“Are you coming?” cried Hallam, after a few minutes, and as he flung back the door, that of the bedroom was heard to open, and Mrs Hallam and Julia came down, both very pale, but with a firmness in their countenances that sent a thrill of joy through Thisbe.
“There you are then,” cried Hallam, as they stood before him. “Ah! I’ve a good mind to—”
He raised his hand and made a feint as if to strike the pale, suffering woman. With a cry of horror, Julia flung herself between them, her eyes flashing, her dread gone, and in its place, indignant horror sweeping away the last feeling of pity and compunction for the brutalised man to whom she owed her birth.
“Now then,” cried Hallam. “You’ve both had your fool’s game out, so put on your bonnets and come home.” Mrs Hallam passed her hand round Julia and remained silent.
“Do you hear?” cried Hallam. “I say, put on your things and come home. As for you, madam, you shall have a home of your own, and a husband, before you know where you are. Come; stir!” he cried, with a stamp. “This is my home,” said Mrs Hallam, sternly. “What!”
“Robert Hallam, the last thread that bound me to you is broken,” she continued, in a calm, judicial voice. “We are separated for ever.”
“You’re mad,” cried Hallam, with a laugh. “Come, no nonsense, ma’am! Don’t make a scene, for I’m not in the humour to put up with much. Come out of this house or—”
He made a step or two towards the door, for Thisbe had thrown it open, having seen Bayle pass the window with Sir Gordon. Then he seized the door to fling it in their faces; but Thisbe held it firmly, and they walked in, Hallam himself giving way.
“Coward!” snarled Crellock in his ear, as he started up, whip in hand.
“Mrs Hallam,” said Sir Gordon, “you must forgive this intrusion. I am sure we are wanted here.”