His wife sat watching with breathless expectation, feeling convinced that at length there was news.
"Are they safe?" she asked, when she had followed her husband's eye to the conclusion of the lengthy epistle.
"They are safe, for the present."
"Thank Heaven!" she exclaimed, giving way to woman's great relief—tears.
"But where are they?" she continued a minute afterwards.
"At Marseilles, where they have been for some time, so the British consul tells me, and where they are likely to be till we go to release them."
"Release them! What do you mean? Don't keep back anything from me, dear husband."
"Well, if you must know the worst, they are in prison, on a charge of coining."
"What an infamous charge to make against them?" exclaimed a couple of indignant feminine voices, belonging to little Emily and Paquita, who had just come into the room.
"Husband, you don't believe our boy to be guilty of such a crime?"