All But Lost: A Novel. Vol. 2 of 3

by G. A. Henty

“I will tell you what I thought, Mrs. Holl. You see, when a convict first goes out he is put to work upon the roads. After he has been at that for some time, in proportion to the length of his sentence, he is hired out to one of the farmers, and a year or two afterwards, if his conduct continues good, he gets a ticket-of-leave, and does as he pleases. Now, in the present case, as the sentence is only for seven years, it is probable that your brother will not be kept more than a year upon public work, and will then be hired to a farmer. No disgrace will attach to him afterwards for having been a convict for his political opinions, and he may yet live to make an honest name and a fair position in Australia. Now, my idea is that his wife should sail a year after him and join him there; it is probable that she would find no difficulty in getting employment about the house or dairy wherever he may be. Women are scarce there. The passage money out is about twenty-five pounds, and say another ten pounds for expenses out there until she is settled—thirty-five pounds. Now, Mrs. Holl, I have plenty of money and I don't see that I can do better with it than to lend this money to your sister-in-law. I am a very unsettled man and do not know where I may be at the end of some months, so I have handed over the money to Mr. Prescott here, and at the end of a year, if Mrs. Holl is ready to start to join her husband, he will give it to her.”

As he finished, Bessy Holl rose from her chair and tottered three steps forward, and then fell upon her knees. Then she tried to speak, but tears and sobs choked her, and she could only gasp out, “God bless you! God bless you! to think, only a year—my William, my William!” and she went off in violent hysterics.

The young men assisted Mrs. Holl to raise her, and to carry her into the next room and lay her upon a bed, and then Frank said, “We had better leave her to you, Mrs. Holl; she will soon be better.”

Mrs. Holl turned to him and took his hand, “Young gentleman,” she said, solemnly, “the thought of that poor child's joyful cry will ring in your ears and gladden your heart may be for many a year to come. You will have your reward, as the good book says. I am a rough woman, sir, and can no more thank you than that poor creature there, but my prayers can do you no harm, and you will have them, sir. May God in heaven bless you, sir, and make you a very happy man, as you deserve to be!”

It was two days later that Sarah and Bessy Holl were shown into the waiting-room of the prison where William Holl was confined. He was to be taken to Portland, whence he was in a short time to be shipped for Australia. It was a small room, and after they were ushered into it they sat for nearly five minutes in silence before the door was opened. Bessy was calm and composed now; her face was sad but no longer hopeless; perhaps, indeed, if she could have read her own heart she would have found that she was really happier than she had been for months past. Her life, indeed, had lately been one long anxiety and care. She had seen ruin gradually coming upon them; her husband, from being one of the best of workmen and the most cheerful of husbands, had become an idle, moody man; her home had been broken up, and she herself had suffered the actual pangs of hunger. And never for a moment had Bessy believed in her husband's schemes and aspirations, but had all along had a prison, or perhaps a gallows, before her eyes as the end which must sooner or later befall him. Now all this weary strain of thought and care was over. Her husband would, indeed, be separated from her for a year—but what was a year? At the end of that time there was a future before them, a fresh home in a new country, honest labour and contentment and happiness, and William would yet again be the William she had loved and married.

Thoughts something like these were running in her mind, when the door opened and her husband entered. He was already in convict attire, and all Bessy's glad thoughts faded, and she gave a little cry as she looked at his pale, haggard face. She tottered forward and fell half fainting on his neck.

“My poor girl,” he said, softly, “my poor girl, and I have brought you to this; this is the end of all my hopes and plans.”

Sarah Holl went to the barred window and looked out into the narrow court. She so pitied Bessy, and was so out of all patience, as she said herself, with her husband that she could not bring herself to speak kindly to him. Yet, for Bessy's sake, she would not embitter their last meeting. So she looked steadily out of the window, and stood there alternating between anger and pity, now longing to turn round and upbraid William Holl for his madness and folly, now crying quietly to herself in relenting sorrow.

William Holl placed his wife in a chair and then knelt down beside her.

“Oh Bessy, Bessy! what can I say, how can I ask you to forgive me? I have destroyed your life, Bessy, and yet I would have given mine to make you happy. When I think, Bessy, how happy we were, how bright and gay you were only a year ago and see what I have brought you to, I could die, Bessy—oh! how gladly—if I could recall the past and have never seen you. I see now how right you were, and how mad I have been—how miserably mad—to think that all the idle hands who were willing to spend their time in talking and drinking, and making speeches, were patriots ready to die for the cause of freedom. I have been a fool, Bessy, but, oh, that I could have my punishment alone! Why must I drag you down to misery too? Even had things been as I thought them, what right had I to devote myself, as I thought, to my country, and to sacrifice my wife? Oh, Bessy! you may forgive me, but I never can forgive myself.”