The General turned upon him fiercely.
"Was not this morning fixed for the—is this not the twenty-fifth?" he said. "What do you mean?"
There was a moment's silence, during which he read the answer to his question in Hubert's melancholy eyes. Miss Vane held her breath; she saw her brother stagger as if a sudden dizziness had seized him; he caught at the back of an antique heavily-carved oak chair for support. In the pause she noted involuntarily the beauty of the golden sunshine that filled every corner of the luxuriously-appointed room, intensifying the glow of color in the Persian carpet, illuminating as with fire the brass-work and silver-plate which decorated the table and the sideboard, vividly outlining in varied tones of delicate hues the masses of June roses that filled every vase and bowl in the room. The air was full of perfume—nothing but beauty met the eye; and yet, in spite of this material loveliness, how black and evil, how unutterably full of sadness, did the world appear to Leonora Vane just then! And, if she could have seen into the heart of one at least of the men who stood before her, she would almost have died of grief and shame.
"You don't mean," stammered the General, "that the ruffian who murdered my brother—has been—reprieved?"
"It is said, sir, that imprisonment for life is a worse punishment than death," said Hubert gently. The face of no man—even of one condemned to life-long punishment—could have expressed deeper gloom than his own as he said the words. Yet mingling with the gloom there was something inflexible that gave it almost a repellent character. It was as if he would have thrown any show or pity back into the face of those who offered it, and defied the world to sympathise with him on account of some secret trouble which he had brought upon himself.
"Worse than death—worse than death!" repeated the old man. "I do not know what you mean, sir. I shall go up to town at once and see Harbury about this matter. It is in his hands——"
"Not now," interposed Hubert. "The Queen——"
"The Queen will hear reason, sir! I will make my way to her presence, and speak to her myself. She will not refuse the prayer of an old man who has served his country as long and as faithfully as I have done. I will tell her the story myself, and she will see justice done—justice on the man who murdered my brother!"
His voice grew louder and his breath came in choking gasps between the words. His face was purple, the veins on his forehead were swollen and his eyes bloodshot; with one hand he was leaning on the table, with the other he gesticulated violently, shaking the closed fist almost in Hubert's face, as if he mistook him for the murderer himself. It was a pitiable sight. The old man had completely lost his self-command, and his venerable white hairs and bowed form accentuated the harrowing effect which his burst of passion produced upon his hearers. Hubert stood silent, spell-bound, as it seemed, with sorrow and dismay; but Miss Vane, shaking off her unwonted timidity, went up to her brother and laid her hand upon his outstretched quivering arm.
"Richard, Richard, do not speak in that way!" she said. "It is not Christian—it is not even human. You are not a man who would wish to take away a fellow-creature's life or to rob him of a chance of repentance."