"You know that you have only to speak and I shall do all you wish; but let us sit down, and talk calmly and dispassionately about this letter. There, I will be only the true, candid friend. I do not attempt to fight against your present feeling; I only ask you to wait, to give the matter quiet consideration for a few days. It seems impertinent of me to speak of rashness; but before you decide to give up your little home--" "Hush!" said Mrs Hallam firmly; and the bright light in her daughter's eyes died out. "Do not speak to me like this. No consideration, no time could change me. Christie Bayle, think for a moment. For twelve long years I have been praying for this letter. From my heart I felt it hopeless to expect my husband's pardon. Now the letter has come, you ask me to wait--to consider--to give up this plan--to refuse to obey these commands. Of what kind do you think my love for my husband?" Bayle drew a long breath, and remained silent for quite a minute, while Julia watched him with a strange wrinkling of her broad, fair brow. The silence was painful, but at last he broke it, speaking as if the question had been that moment put. "As of the love of a true wife. Yes, I will help you to the end. Tell me what you wish me to do?" Julia turned away her face, for the tears were falling softly down her cheeks, but they were not seen by the other occupants of the room. "I knew I could count upon you," said Mrs Hallam eagerly, and as if in hot haste. "I know it will be a bitter pang to part from where I have spent these--yes, happy years; but it is our duty, and I will not waste an hour. I am only a helpless woman, Mr Bayle, so I must look to you." He nodded quickly. "My husband bids me part with everything that remains of my little property." "Did he say that?" said Bayle dryly. "He said, part with everything, take passage in the first ship, and come and join me." Bayle nodded. "Then we shall pack up just sufficient necessaries for our voyage, Julie and I; and everything else must be sold. I shall realise enough to pay our passage from my furniture." "Oh, yes, certainly," said Bayle quickly; "and you will have to spare." "And the ship; what am I to do? Oh! here is Sir Gordon, he will know." There was the tap of the ebony cane upon the pavement, a well-known knock, and, looking very wrinkled and careworn, Sir Gordon came in, glancing suspiciously from one to the other. "Not the time to call, perhaps. I'm not Bayle here; but I've not had a wink of sleep all night, thinking of that outrageous letter, and so I came up at once to tell you, my dears, that it's all outrageous madness. He--he must be out of his mind to propose it. I'll--I'll do anything! I'll see the Secretary of State! I'll try for a remission--a pardon! but you two girls--you children--you cannot, you shall not go out there!"