"His life—his life!" cried, instantly, Maisie and Kate together.
The latter rose to her feet, letting all her white bravery of seamstressing slip unheeded to the ground. Maisie, on her part, turned a pale and tear-stained face eagerly up to her husband.
"Yes," said Barra, swiftly, eager to tell the story first, "it is true—his life; for Walter Gordon, being in company at the place I have mentioned with a light woman, brawled and insulted those who sat near him, offering to assert and defend her virtue at the sword's point. Then when he was withstood and threatened with arrest by my officers, as their duty was, he turned fiercely upon them and upon others, the supporters of law and order, and now he lies in prison awaiting trial for murder!"
Kate caught the table with her hand at the last terrible word, which Barra hissed out with concentrated fury and hatred.
"Is this true?" she said, in a low voice, making a great effort to regain her calmness. She turned to Will Gordon as she spoke.
"Nay," said Will, "indeed I know nothing of the cause of the quarrel. But certain it is that there has been a most fierce brawl, and that in the affray certain men have been grievously wounded, if not killed."
"And is our Wat in prison?" demanded Maisie, fiercely.
"He lies in the military prison of the city awaiting his trial by court-martial!" replied the provost.
Maisie turned her about and caught her husband by the braid of his coat.
"Go you to him at once—you must! Tell him it is all our fault—we have been unhappy and to blame, Kate and I—ask him to forgive."