“---- quarrelled with you, and threatened all sorts of awful things, I know; uncle Horace told me. But George, you silly old George, don’t you know that after all she’s her _mother_, and do you really believe that when Nouna came to her, flinging her arms about her, worshipping her, and looking upon her as her refuge, her safety--remember that!--that she would, or could undo all the work of her life, and use now to make her daughter miserable means which she would not use before to make her, according to _her_ notions, happy?” George’s face grew lighter; he looked up out of the window and then turned again to the girl. “Certainly--as you put it--it seems possible--” “Of course it is possible, probable, and I will stake my word--true. You men are good creatures, but you can’t reason. Now I will write direct to the mother----” “My dear Ella, I don’t think you must do that. Ask Lady Mill----” “Nonsense. Don’t be old-maidish. To-morrow you shall hear something--something good, I earnestly believe.” “Ella, you are killing me,” said George in a stifled voice. “If you knew--what it is--after these awful days--and nights--to hear----” “A human voice again? I know,” said she, speaking more hurriedly than ever to hide the breaks that would come in her clear tones. “Only don’t trouble, don’t worry yourself. Clarence Massey--bless him!--has been crawling on the ground for me to walk upon him ever since he found I--I--I was coming to--to see you. His grandfather is just dead, and he has come into £4,000 a year, and he wants to bribe all the prison officials with annuities to let you escape. We caught the barrister outside when he left you, and when he said they could not bring it in--the worst----” here her voice gave way, “there was not evidence enough, we could both have kissed him, George; I’m sure we could.” She had talked herself out of breath, and was obliged to stop, panting and agitated through all her hectic liveliness. George himself was speechless and could do nothing but wring her hands, so she went on again after a moment’s pause. “You mustn’t expect to get off altogether, I’m afraid. I dare not speak about this much, because it is so dreadful to us all--everybody. But you must keep a good heart, for you have friends as deep as the sea and as firm as the rocks, George; and as for your little wife, why she shall live among us like a qu--queen in exile until her lord comes back again to make her ha--happy.” The warder had been clicking the keys outside for some minutes; he now gently opened the door and gave a respectful cough. George seized the girl’s hands and pressed upon them kisses that left red marks on the pale flesh before he could let her go. “God bless you, Ella,” he whispered hoarsely, “you have saved my heart from breaking.” The next moment the door shut upon her, but the radiance shed upon the bare walls by the pure sweet woman illumined them still. CHAPTER XXVIII.