ibly have served her, he could only clasp
her closer to his heart, and consider what was to be done.

At length he looked up at the sheriff's officer, and said:

"I wish to have a word alone with my wife, if you will permit me."

The man hesitated.

"You can do it with perfect safety. We cannot possibly escape from this
ship, you know; and besides, you can keep us in sight," he added.

Still the man hesitated, and at length inquired:

"Why do you wish to speak with her alone?"

"To try to soothe her spirits. I know it would be quite useless to tell
you how entirely innocent this lady is of the heinous crime imputed to
her; for even if you should believe her to be so, you would have to do
your duty all the same."

"Yes, certainly; and a most distressing duty," put in the officer.

"This arrest has come upon her so suddenly, and when she is so utterly
unprepared to meet it, that it has quite overcome her, as you see; but
leave her alone with me for a few minutes, and I will try to calm her
mind, and induce her to yield quietly to this necessity," added Lyon.

"Well, sir, I am indeed very willing to do all in my power to make this
sad affair as little distressing to the lady as possible," answered the
officer as he touched his companion on the shoulder, and they both
walked off to some little distance.

As their retreating steps sounded upon the deck, Sybil raised her head
from Lyon's breast and looked around with an expression half-frightened,
half-relieved, and murmured:

"They are gone! They are gone!"

Then clasping her husband suddenly around the neck, and gazing wildly
into his eyes, she exclaimed:

"You can save me, Lyon, you can save me from this deep dishonor that no
Berners ever suffered before! There is but one way, Lyon, and there is
but one moment. You have a small penknife; but it is enough. Open it,
and strike it _here_, Lyon. One blow will be enough, if it is firmly
struck! Here--Lyon! here, strike here!" And she placed her hand on her
throat, under her ear, and gazed wildly, prayerfully in his face.

"_Oh, Sybil!_" he groaned, in an agony of despairing love.

"Quick! quick! Lyon! We have but this moment! Strike here now--now, this
instant! Strike first, and then kiss me! kiss me as I die!"

"Sybil! Sybil, darling you wring my heart."

"I am not afraid of death, Lyon; I am only afraid of shame. Kill me, to
save me, Lyon! Be a Roman husband. Slay your wife, to save her from
shame!" she c