The year of mourning was permitted to pass, and then John Lyon Howe, having, according to the conditions of the marriage contract, assumed the name and arms of Berners, was united in marriage to the beautiful Sybil. And they set out on their bridal tour as Mr. and Mrs. Lyon Berners. And now we will again look in upon them as they linger over their tea-table in the old inn at Norfolk, where we first introduced them to our readers. CHAPTER IV. THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER. "From the glance of her eye Shun danger and fly, for fatal's the glance." Very happy were the married lovers as they sat over their tea, even though the scene of their domestic joy was just now but an inn-parlor. Both the young people had good appetites: gratified love had not deprived them of that. They talked of their homeward journey and how pleasant it would be in this glorious autumn weather, and of their home and how glad they would be to reach it--yes, how glad! For, paradoxical as it may seem to say so, there is no happiness so perfect as that which looks forward to something still more perfect, if such could be possible in the future. They talked of the Black Valley, and how beautiful even that would look in its gorgeous October livery. Suddenly in the midst of their sweet converse they heard the sound of weeping--low, deep, heart-broken weeping. Both paused, looked at each other and listened. The sound seemed to come from a room on the opposite side of the passage to their own apartment. "What is that?" inquired Sybil, looking up to her husband's face. "It seems to be some woman in distress," answered Lyon. "Oh! see what it is, dear, will you?" entreated Sybil. She was herself so happy, that it was really dreadful to be reminded just then that sorrow should exist in this world; at all. "Oh, go and see what is the matter. Do, dear," she insisted, seeing that he hesitated. "I would do so, dear, in a moment, but it might be indiscreet on my part. The lady may be a party to some little domestic misunderstanding, with which it would be impertinent in any stranger to interfere," answered the more thoughtful husband. "A domestic misunderstanding! O, dear Lyon, that such things should be! Fancy you and I having a misunderstanding!" exclaimed Sybil, with a shiver. "I cannot fancy anything of the sort, my darling; Heaven forbid that I could!" said Lyon, fervently. "Amen to that! But listen! Ah! how she weeps and wails! Oh, Lyon, how I pity her! Oh, how I wish I could do something for her! Oh, Lyon, are you sure it would be improper for me to go and see if I can relieve her in any way?" pleaded Sybil.