It was two days later that Sarah and Bessy Holl were shown into the waiting-room of the prison where William Holl was confined. He was to be taken to Portland, whence he was in a short time to be shipped for Australia. It was a small room, and after they were ushered into it they sat for nearly five minutes in silence before the door was opened. Bessy was calm and composed now; her face was sad but no longer hopeless; perhaps, indeed, if she could have read her own heart she would have found that she was really happier than she had been for months past. Her life, indeed, had lately been one long anxiety and care. She had seen ruin gradually coming upon them; her husband, from being one of the best of workmen and the most cheerful of husbands, had become an idle, moody man; her home had been broken up, and she herself had suffered the actual pangs of hunger. And never for a moment had Bessy believed in her husband's schemes and aspirations, but had all along had a prison, or perhaps a gallows, before her eyes as the end which must sooner or later befall him. Now all this weary strain of thought and care was over. Her husband would, indeed, be separated from her for a year—but what was a year? At the end of that time there was a future before them, a fresh home in a new country, honest labour and contentment and happiness, and William would yet again be the William she had loved and married.
Thoughts something like these were running in her mind, when the door opened and her husband entered. He was already in convict attire, and all Bessy's glad thoughts faded, and she gave a little cry as she looked at his pale, haggard face. She tottered forward and fell half fainting on his neck.
“My poor girl,” he said, softly, “my poor girl, and I have brought you to this; this is the end of all my hopes and plans.”
Sarah Holl went to the barred window and looked out into the narrow court. She so pitied Bessy, and was so out of all patience, as she said herself, with her husband that she could not bring herself to speak kindly to him. Yet, for Bessy's sake, she would not embitter their last meeting. So she looked steadily out of the window, and stood there alternating between anger and pity, now longing to turn round and upbraid William Holl for his madness and folly, now crying quietly to herself in relenting sorrow.