“Yes, Mercedes——”
“Hush! You must not call me that, now; not yet.”
“I have seen your brother, Tom, and he told me about it—and yet, he does not suspect that I know that you are his sister.”
“He is well? And happy? And—good?” she asked breathlessly, and in a tone which seemed to demand that the answers to her questions should be in the affirmative. And Nick replied in a gentle tone:
“Yes, he is well. I do not think he is quite happy; how could he be so, away from the sister he loves so dearly? And—he is trying to be good, I think.”
“Where is he?” she asked, and Nick smiled kindly as he replied:
“You are asking questions of me instead of permitting me to ask some that are important, but I think I may promise you that he is not far away—that he is watching over your safety at this moment in a manner and under advantages which I could not obtain, however hard I might try—and that he is not very far away from you.”
“Then he is—free?” she exclaimed, with a glad cry.
“Free! Yes. Why do you ask that?”
“Because I was told—oh, kind Heaven, must I confess it?—that he was a prisoner for life in a French prison. A prisoner for life! Think of it.”