Julia looked wistfully at her mother, whose face was transfigured by the joy that illumined it once more, though it had no reflection in her child’s face, which was rendered sad by the traces of the tears that she had lately shed.
“Your husband is well?” said Bayle at last, for Mrs Hallam was looking at him reproachfully.
“Yes, oh yes, he is quite well,” she said proudly; and something of her old feeling seemed to come back, for the eyes that looked from Sir Gordon to Bayle gave a defiant flash.
“Well?” she said impatiently, as if weary of waiting to be questioned.
“Do you wish your friends to know the contents of your husband’s letter?”
“Yes!” she cried; “all that is not of a private nature.”
Bayle paused again. Then his lips parted, but no words came; and Sir Gordon saw that there was a tender, yearning look in his eyes, a pitying expression in his face.
Then he seemed to recover himself. He moistened his feverish lips, and said in a low, pained voice:
“Then the term of his imprisonment is over? He is coming back?”
“My poor husband was sentenced to exile for life,” said Mrs Hallam, with her head erect, as if she were defending the reputation of a patriot.