As Julia watched the door the remembrance of the stern, handsome face of her childhood seemed to come up from the past--that face with the profusion of well-tended, wavy black hair, brushed back from the high, white forehead; the bright, piercing eyes that were shaded by long, heavy lashes; the closely-shaven lips and chin, and the thick, dark whiskers--the face of the portrait in their little London home. And it seemed to her that she would see it again directly, that the old sternness would have given place to a smile of welcome, and as her heart beat fast her eyes filled with tears, and she was gazing through a mist that dimmed her sight. The door was thrown open; the tramp of the footsteps ceased, and as the door was abruptly closed, mother and daughter remained unmoved, clinging more tightly together, staring wildly through their tear-blinded eyes at the gaunt convict standing there with face that seemed to have been stamped in the mould of the poor wretch's they had so lately seen: closely-cropped grey hair, stubbly, silvered beard, and face drawn in a half-derisive smile. "Well!" he said, in a strange, hoarse voice that was brutal in its tones; and a sound issued from his throat that bore some resemblance to a laugh. "Am I so changed?" "Robert! husband!" The words rang through the cell-like room like the cry of some stricken life, and Millicent Hallam threw herself upon the convict's breast. He bent over her as he held her tightly, and placed his mouth to her ear, while the beautiful quivering lips were turned towards his in their agony of longing for his welcoming kiss. "Hush! Listen!" he said, and he gave her a sharp shake. "Have you brought the tin case?" She nodded as she clung to him, clasping him more tightly to her heaving breast. "You've got it safely?" She nodded quickly again. "Where is it?" She breathed hard, and attempted to speak, but it was some time before she could utter the expected words. "Why don't you speak?" he said in a rough whisper. "You have it safe?" She nodded again. "Where?" "It--it is at--the hotel," panted Mrs Hallam. "Quite safe?" "Yes." "Unopened?" "Yes." "Thank God!" His manner seemed to change, his eyes brightened, and his brutalised countenance altogether looked less repellent, as he uttered those words. As he stood there at first, his head hung, as it were, forward from between his shoulders, and his whole attitude had a despicable, cringing, trampled-down look that now seemed to pass away. He filled out and drew himself up; his eyes brightened as if hope had been borne to him by the coming of wife and child. It was no longer the same man, so it seemed to Julia as she stood aloof, trembling and waiting for him to speak to her.