A craving for Denham had him next in its grasp. If Denham had but been arrested too—had but come with him! But this unworthy wish lasted not ten seconds. Upon it followed a nobler rush of gladness that Denham was not here. The worn face came up before Roy, as he had seen it last at Verdun; and below his breath he sobbed in an ecstasy of thankfulness that at least Denham would be in comparative comfort, that at least Denham had not to be in this dungeon.
"Think how your mother will be praying for you."
Was Denham speaking? Roy seemed to hear the words, not only with his mind, but with his bodily ears.
He sat up and looked round upon the slumbering throng—looked with smarting eyes into the gloom. He gazed into the blackness overhead, where a stone roof shut him pitilessly in.
Was his mother praying for him then? Would God hear her petitions?
Denham's voice, deep and quiet, seemed again to breathe around him—"Remember! God is over all!" How long ago was it that he had said those words? Was it—when he was ordered off to Valenciennes?
God over all! Ay, even here; even in this dungeon.
Roy dropped down again, face foremost; and through heaving sobs, not one of which was allowed to make itself heard, he joined his prayers to those of his mother.