The sight of the capital letters in the Telegraphic Despatches, coupling her name with a heinous and revolting crime, seemed to stab her eyes with red-hot thrusts; and shivering from head to foot, she slowly realized the suspicious significance of the disappearance of the will, which was the sole obstacle that debarred her from her grandfather’s wealth.  Although sustained by an unfaltering trust in the omnipotence of innocence, she was tormented by a dread spectre that would not “down” at her bidding; how could she prove that the money and jewels had been given to her?  Would the shock of the tidings of her arrest kill her mother?  Was there any possible way by which she might be kept in ignorance of this foul disgrace?

Beryl hid her face in her hands, and tried to think, but the whole universe appeared spinning into chaos.  She had opposed the trip South so steadily and vehemently:  had so sorrowfully and reluctantly yielded at last to maternal solicitation, and had been oppressed with such dire forebodings of some resultant evil.  So bitter was her repugnance to the application to her grandfather, that she had set out on her journey feeling as though it were a challenge to fate; and this was the answer?  The vague distrust, the subtle sombre presentiment, the haunting shadow of an inexplicable ill, had all meant this; this bloody horror, dragging her fair name down to the loathsome mire of the slums of crime.  Had some merciful angel leaned from the parapets of heaven and warned her; or did her father’s spirit, in mysterious communion of deathless love and prescient guardianship, stir her soul to oppose her mother’s scheme?  Sceptical and heedless Tarquins are we all, whom our patient Sibylline intuitions finally abandon to the woes which they sought to avert.

In the maddening rush and whirl of Beryl’s reflections, her mother’s image was the one centre around which all things circled; and at length, rallying her energies, she turned to her captor.

“You intend to take me to prison?”

“I am obliged to detain and deliver you to the officer who has come from X—–­with the warrant, and who will carry you back there for trial.  He knew from the detentions along the route, that he could easily overhaul you here, so he went straight to Trenton with a requisition from the Governor of his State upon Governor Mansfield, for your surrender.  It is but a short run to the Capital, and he expects to get here in time to catch the train going South to-day.  We had a telegram a while ago, saying the papers were all right, and that he would meet us at the train, as there will be only a few moments to spare.”

“But I must first see my mother.  I must give her the money and explain—­”

“The money will be claimed by the officer who takes charge of you.”

“Have you no mercy?  My mother is ill, destitute; and she will die unless I can go to her.  Oh!  I beg of you, for the sake of common humanity, carry me home, if only for five minutes!  Just let me see mother, let me speak to her!”