nothing."

"Oh yes, yes, it is horrible! it is horrible!"

"Hush, hush, dear! try to be composed."

"Black night! fire! blood! Oh, what a terror!"

"It was only a dream, dear. It is over now, and you are awake. Look up!"

"Oh, no! no dream, Beatrix! an awful, an overwhelming reality!"
exclaimed the awakened sufferer. Then suddenly, with a shriek, she threw
her hands to her head and fell into spasms.

"For heaven's sake run and fetch a doctor," exclaimed Beatrix, in the
utmost distress, appealing to the terrified warden.

He immediately hurried from the room to procure the necessary medical
attendance.

Beatrix ran after him, calling loudly:

"Send for her husband and her old nurse from Black Hall, also. I know it
is after hours, but I believe she is dying."

The warden nodded assent, and hurried away, leaving Miss Pendleton in
attendance upon the agonized woman, who recovered from one convulsion
only to fall into another and severer one.

* * * * *

It was midnight, and a sorrowful and anxious group were gathered in
Sybil's cell. She lay upon her bed, writhing with agony, and upon the
very verge of death.

Near her stood her old family physician Dr. Hart, her old nurse Mrs.
Winterose, and her faithful attendant Miss Tabby.

In the lobby, outside the cell door, sat her husband, with his face
buried in his hands, wrestling in prayer with heaven.

What was he praying for? That his idolized young wife should be spared
in this mortal peril? No, no, and a thousand times no! With all his
heart and soul he prayed that she might die--that she might die e'er
that dread warrant, which had arrived from Richmond only that morning,
and which fixed her execution for an early day, could be carried out!

This agony of prayer was interrupted. The doctor came out of the cell,
and whispered:

"It is over. She is the mother of a little girl."

There was no expression of parental joy or thankfulness on the father's
part. Only the breathless question:

"And she? Can she survive?"

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE GREAT VALLEY STORM.

"Then hurtles forth the wind with sudden burst,
And hurls the whole precipitated clouds
Down in a torrent. On the sleeping vale
Descends infernal force, and with strong gust
Turns from the bottom the discolored streams
Through the black night that broods immense around,
Lashed into foam, the fierce contending falls
Swift o'er a