Lyon encouraged her as much as he possibly could, but he had his own private subject of anxiety. He had not of course told any one of his intention to go abroad. Every one believed that, having sold out his load, he would return home; but he was obliged to stay in the city until the sailing of the ship, and he wanted a fair excuse to do so. That evening the weather changed, and the sky clouded over, and the next morning it rained, and it continued to rain for three days. "This here will make them there roads so bad that we shan't be able to travel for a week, even if it does clear up soon," grumbled and growled the self-styled farmer, feeling glad all the while of an excuse to stay until the ship should sail. "No, that you won't," echoed his friend the landlord, glad to retain a guest with whom he was pleased. On the third day of the rain, the sky showing signs of clearing, Lyon Berners went over to Portsmouth to hear at what precise time the Enterprise would sail for Liverpool. When he returned he had good news for Sybil. "The Ship will sail on Saturday! That is the day after to-morrow, dear Sybil. And we may go on board to-morrow night." "Oh! I am so glad!" exclaimed Sybil, clapping her hands for joy. And she began to pack up immediately. "Moreover, I have sold my wagon and horses to a party at Portsmouth. And so we can put our luggage into it and drive off as if we were going home; but we can go down to the river instead, and take it across in the ferry-boat. Then I can have our effects put upon shipboard, and then deliver the team to its purchaser and receive the price," added Lyon. "Oh, but I am so delighted with the bare fact of our getting away so soon, that all things else seem of no account to me!" joyously exclaimed Sybil, going on with her packing. The next morning Lyon went out alone to make a few more purchases for their voyage. While he was going around, he also bought all the daily papers that he could get hold of. He returned to Sybil at an early hour of the forenoon. He found her sitting down in idleness. "Got entirely through packing, my darling?" he inquired cheerfully. "Oh, yes, and I have nothing on earth to do now. How long this last day will seem! At what hour may we go on board, this evening?" "At sundown." "Oh, that it were now sundown! How shall we contrive to pass the time until then?" "This will help us to pass the day, dear wife," he answered, laying the pile of newspapers on the table between them. Each took up a paper and began to look over it. Lyon was deep in a political article, when a cry from Sybil startled him. "What is the matter?" he inquired, in alarm. She did not answer. Her face was pale as ashes, and her eyes were strained upon the paper. "What do you see there?" again inquired her husband. "Oh, Lyon! Lyon! we are lost! we are lost!" she cried in a voice of agony. In great anxiety he took the paper from her hand, and read the paragraph to which she pointed. It ran thus: