"If I had been alone in the world, Julia, I should have gone years upon years ago; but I felt that I should be committing a breach of trust to take his young, tender child all those thousands of miles across the sea, to a land whose society is wild, and often lawless." "And so you asked papa to give his consent?" "Every time I wrote to him, Julia--letters full of trust in the future, letters filled with the hope I did not feel. I begged him to give me his consent that I might come." "And he has not replied, mother?" "Not yet, my child. Innocent and guilty alike have a long probation to pass through." "But he might have written, dear." "How do we know that, Julia?" said Mrs Hallam, with a shade of sternness in her voice. "I have studied the matter deeply from the reports and dispatches, and often the poor prisoners are sent far up the country as servants--almost slaves--to the settlers. In places sometimes where there are no fellow-creatures save the blacks for miles upon miles. No roads, Julia; no post; no means of communication." "My poor father!" sighed Julia, sinking upon the carpet, half sitting, half kneeling, with her hands clasped upon her knees, and her gaze directed up at the dimly-seen picture on the wall. "Yes, my child, I know all," said Mrs Hallam. "I know him and his pride. Think of a man like him, innocent, and yet condemned; dragged from his home like a common felon, and forced to herd with criminals of the lowest class. Is it not natural that his heart should rebel against society, and that he should proudly make his stand upon his innocency, and wait in silent suffering for the day when the law shall say: `Innocent and injured man, come back from the desert. You have been deeply wronged!'" "Yes, dear mother. Poor father! But not one letter in all these years!" "Julia, my child, you pain me," cried Mrs Hallam excitedly. "When you speak like that, your words seem to imply that he has had the power to send letter or message. He is your father--my husband. Child, you must learn to think of him with the same faith as I." "Indeed I will, dear," cried Julia passionately; and then she started to her feet, for there was a quick, decided knock at the front door. Mrs Hallam hurriedly tried to compose her features; and as Thisbe's step was heard in the passage she drew in her breath, gazed wildly at the picture, just as Julia drew down the blind and blotted it from her sight. Then the door was opened, and their visitor came in the centre of the glow shed by the passage light. "Aha! In the dark!" cried Bayle in his cheery voice, as Thisbe opened the door. "How I wish I had been born a lady! I always envy you that pleasant hour you spend in the half light, gazing into the fire."