Julia lingered near the grating, for the gleams of sunshine that shot into the broad hall beyond, whenever the outer door was opened to allow access and egress to the officers, had something cheerful in it that filled her with hope. The child, too, felt this pleasant influence, and his prattle, now and then broken with a soft laugh, was music to the poor girl.
"Come, love—come, let us go away. People are at the door!" she cried all at once, striving to lead the child away.
"No—no. It is brighter here, I will stay," answered the little fellow, leaping roguishly on one side. "It's only the matron; don't you hear her keys jingle? She will take me up into her pretty room, and you as well. Just wait till I ask her."
The door opened and a black-eyed little woman, full of animation and cheerful energy, stepped into the passage. She paused, for Julia stood in her way, making gentle efforts to free her dress from the grasp which the little boy had fixed upon it. The beauty of the young girl, her shrinking manner, and the crimson that came and went on her sweet face, all interested the matron at once. She smiled a motherly, cheering smile, and said at once—
"Ah, you have found one another out. George is a safe little playmate—ain't you, darling? Come, now, tell me what her name is, that's a man."
"She hasn't told me yet," lisped the child, freeing Julia from his grasp, and nestling himself against the matron.
"My name is Julia—Julia Warren, ma'am," said the young prisoner, blushing to hear the sound of her name in that place.
"I thought so; I was sure of it from the first; there, there, don't be frightened, and don't cry. Come up to my room—come, George! Tell your young friend that somebody is waiting for her up there—some one that she will be very glad to meet."
"Tell me—oh! tell me who!" cried the poor girl, breathlessly.