may be my last hour of freedom in this world!" murmured Sybil to
herself, as, preceded by the waiter and attended by her escort, she went
up stairs.

The door of a private parlor was thrown open, and Sybil Berners entered
and stood before her judge.

CHAPTER XII.

A WISE AND GOOD OLD MAN.

A just judge; by the craft of the law,
Ne'er seduced from its purpose.--SOUTHEY.

The room was a private parlor, furnished something like a lawyer's
office.

In an ample cushioned chair, beside a large desk laden with books and
papers, sat a venerable old gentleman of a portly form, fine features,
fresh complexion, and long silvery white hair. He was dressed in jet
black cloth and snow-white linen. His whole appearance expressed great
power, benevolence, and equanimity.

This was Judge Joseph Ruthven, the learned jurist and eminent
philanthropist, who had succeeded the lately deceased judge, on the
bench of the criminal court.

He arose, with a suave and stately courtesy, to receive his lady
visitor.

As the waiter withdrew and closed the door, Sybil approached the judge,
and lifted her veil.

"Sybil, my child! Mrs. Berners!" he said, suppressing with his habitual
self-control, the exclamations of astonishment that arose to his lips.

He had been the life-long intimate friend of her father. He had known
her from her birth, and in her childhood he had held her on his knee a
hundred times. It was horrible to see her there before him, and to
_foresee_ what must follow. Who can blame him, if at that moment he
wished her thousands of miles away from him, with the ocean rolling
between them?

"I have come, your honor, to give myself up to justice, trusting that
justice indeed may be meted out to me," said Sybil, as she sank
trembling into the chair that he placed for her. He was scarcely less
agitated than herself.

"I am guiltless of the crime with which I stand charged; and I can no
longer bear the hiding and hunted life of a criminal! I now freely offer
myself for trial, come what will of it! It is better to die a guiltless
death than to live an outlawed life!" Sybil repeated, her flesh
trembling, but her spirit firm.

Still the judge did not speak, but gazed on her with infinite
compassion.

"It is a painful office, I know, Judge Ruthven," said Sybil, her eyes
filling and her lip quivering, "a painful office, to consign your old
friend's child to a prison, and a more trying duty may follow; but the