lone by herself in the dead of night to the lonesome
church-yard--that I don't. And I's afeard as the ghostesses have
spirited her away."

"Preposterous, Joe! Have you lived in an intelligent family, and in a
Christian community all your life, to believe in 'ghostesses,' as you
call them? Are you such a big fool as all that, at your time of life?"

"Yes, marster, I's jest sich a big fool as all that, at my time of life.
And I want to go out and sarch for my young mistess," said Joe, in the
spirit of "dogged persistence," as he began to gather himself up.

"Stop, stay where you are. If one of us must go, it must be myself,"
said Mr. Berners.

"Which would be a heap the most properest proceedings, any ways,"
muttered Joe, sulkily settling himself in his seat again, in a manner
that seemed to say, "And I wonder why you didn't do it before."

"She really ought to be back by this time, even if she went out but the
moment before we returned; and she may have gone out before that,"
murmured Mr. Berners, with some little vague uneasiness, as he arose and
buttoned his overcoat, and went into the church-yard.

The day was dawning, and the old tombstones gleamed faintly from their
bushes, in the pale gray light of early morning.

"She cannot have gone far; she would not venture; she must be very
near," he said to himself, and he murmured softly:

"_Sybil! Sybil!_ where are you, love?"

There was no answer, and he raised his voice a little.

"Sybil, Sybil, my darling!"

Still there was no response. His vague uneasiness became anxiety, and he
called aloud:

"SYBIL! SYBIL!"

But nothing came of it, and his anxiety grew to terror, and he ran
wildly about shouting her name till all the mountain rocks and glens
echoed and reechoed:

"SYBIL! SYBIL!"

And now he was joined by Joe, whose faithful and affectionate heart was
wrung with anxiety and distress for his beloved and missing young
mistress.

"You can't find her? Oh, Marster, where is she gone? What have become of
her? Oh, what shall we do?" he cried, wringing his hands in great
trouble.

"We must search for her, Joe. This is very strange, and very alarming,"
said Mr. Berners, striking off into the path that led to the fountain,
and shouting her name at every step.

But only the mountain echoes answered. In an agony of anxiety they beat
about the woods and thickets, and climbed the rocks and went down into
the glens, still shouting--always shouting her name.