e sat with that same look of
agony turned to marble, on her face. Some one came up and invited her to
join in the promenade. Scarcely recognizing the speaker, or
comprehending what he said, she arose, more like an automaton than a
living woman, and let herself be led away to join the march.

But her looks had now attracted very general attention, and occasioned
much comment. More than one indiscreet friend or acquaintance had
remarked to Mr. Berners:

"Mrs. Berners looks quite ill. I fear the fatigue of this masquerade has
been too much for her," or words to that effect.

"Yes," Lyon Berners invariably replied, "she is quite indisposed this
evening, suffering indeed; and I have begged her to retire, but I cannot
induce her to do so."

"She is too unselfish; she exerts herself too much for the entertainment
of her guests," suggested another.

And so the rumor went around the room that Mrs. Berners was suffering
from severe illness. And this explanation of her appearance was very
generally received; for the outward and silent manifestations of mental
anguish are not unlike those of physical agony.

And so, after another quadrille and another waltz, and the final
Virginia reel, the company, in consideration of their hostess, began to
break up and depart. Some few intimate friends of the family, who had
come from a distance to the ball, were to stay all night at Black Hall.
These upon their first arrival had been shown to the chambers they were
to occupy, and now they knew where to find them. And so, when the last
of the departing guests had taken leave of their hostess, and had gone
away, these also bade her good-night and retired.

And Sybil remained alone in the deserted drawing-room.

It is sometimes interesting and curious to consider the relative
position of the parties concerned, just before the enactment of some
terrible tragedy.

The situation at Black Hall was this: The guests were in their chambers,
preparing to retire to bed. The servants were engaged in fastening up
the house and putting out the lights, only they refrained from
interfering with three rooms, where three members of the family still
lingered.

In the first of these was the mistress of the house, who, as I said,
remained alone in the deserted drawing-room. Sybil stood as if turned to
stone, and fixed to the spot--motionless in form and face, except that
her lips moved and a hollow monotone issued from them, more like the
moan of a lost