I breakfasted somewhat late next morning, and whilst the cloth was still on the table my maid announced Will. I sprang up to greet him and gave him a hearty hug. He had grown during his absence into a handsome, fine young fellow. His eyes seemed to sparkle with the gleams of the sea; he was coloured a rich, manly brown, and no young fellow that ever I remember had so completely the look of a saucy and spirited young English sailor. The sight of him so near, and in my room, dimmed my eyes. I thought of our holiday rambles when Tom was by my side, when all was music and laughter and the sweetness of flowers, and sleep filled with soft dreams. ‘Mother and father met me, after all, Marian,’ said he, throwing his cap on to a sofa. ‘They are waiting for me at the ship’s berth. But what terrible news! Poor Marian!’ And in the fulness of his heart, unable to say more just then, he came across and kissed me. I sobbed aloud even while I felt the comfort of his sympathy. ‘But he never did it, Marian. Father told me the whole story. They’ve got a paper containing the trial at home, and I read it carefully through last night. Rotch and Nodder are villains. If Captain Butler had been tried by a judge and jury of sailors he’d have been acquitted.’ ‘He’s as innocent as you, Will.’ ‘And sentenced to fourteen years’ transportation! Why, that’s almost a life-sentence at his age. Where is he now?’ ‘In the _Warrior_ hulk, off Woolwich.’ ‘Were you coming from him when I saw you yesterday?’ ‘Yes, dear.’ ‘Poor Marian! Father fears he’s guilty; but he’s not--I’ll swear it. Why, I have his face before me now,’ he cried with his eyes kindling. ‘He could not do a wrong. And how he loved you, Marian! But what’s to be done?’ He walked with a rolling gait about the room. ‘I’d do anything to make you happy. Little I guessed what had happened when I asked you yesterday if you were married to him.’ ‘I shall follow him to Australia, Will.’ ‘Mother says that’s your idea. But what will you do when you get there? He’ll be as much a prisoner in Australia as here, won’t he?’ ‘No. I’ve read and found out. I’ve learned all I wanted to know from Mr. Woolfe,’ said I, naming the sharp young attorney that had been a clerk to my uncle. ‘Certainly, a man is still a convict when he arrives, and he remains a convict; but he’s not locked up in hulks and jails. The Government puts the men into barracks when they arrive, and lends them out to those who want labourers and servants and help. Tom will rank as a gentleman convict; he’s good with his pen and he’s a scholar, Will; they may make him a clerk. He is not a mechanic, and he’s too good to send to the roads.’ ‘How do you know all this, old woman?’