The great bubble had burst at last. Those who blew it had worked so hard, and had blown up such a bulky affair that they had really forgotten that it was all wind and suds, a mere baseless fabric which would burst and leave nothing behind it at the first resistance of a solid substance. But so it was. The great Chartist conspiracy had swelled and swelled, unmolested by Government, until, relying upon its bulk, it sought to assert itself. Government stood firm, and the bubble collapsed. The affair, however, had been of too serious dimensions to be altogether passed over, and a few of the most conspicuous among the Chartist leaders were taken, tried, and condemned to transportation. At their trial they found, as conspirators have almost always done, that there had been a traitor in [61] their midst, that the whole details of their intended movements were as well known to the Government as to themselves. Who the traitor was they did not discover. The evidence was ample without calling him personally, but many and deep were the vows of vengeance sworn against him should he ever be discovered. Among the condemned was William Holl, who was sentenced to seven years' transportation. Evan Holl learnt the news one afternoon when he had asked leave to go down to Knightsbridge. He came back before the hour at which he usually returned from his father's. Frank himself let him in.
“You are early, Evan.”
“Yes, sir.”
Frank noticed that the boy did not speak in his usual cheery tone.
“Anything the matter, lad?”
“Yes, sir; there is a terrible upset at home. Mother's crying, and Aunt Bessy's crying fit to break her heart, and everything is upside down.”
“That sounds bad, Evan; come into my room and tell me what is the matter.”
[62]
Prescott was there, as was his custom in the evening, when Frank was at home.
“Now, Evan, tell us all about it.”
“If you please, sir, Uncle Will has got transported.”
“Got transported, Evan! Why, what has your Uncle Will been doing?”
“Please, sir, he's been going and being a Chartist.”
“Oh, is the Holl who was tried to-day your uncle, Evan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Whew,” whistled Frank, “that is a bad business; how the deuce could the man have made such a fool of himself?”
“Please, sir, I don't know,” Evan answered, taking Frank's ejaculation as a direct question addressed to himself.
“No, I don't suppose you do, Evan, and I don't suppose he does himself, which is more to the point. The question is, what is to be done?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Evan said, hesitatingly,—
[63]
“You don't think you could get him off, sir, do you? It will break Aunt Bessy's heart.”
“No, Evan, that is quite out of the question; your uncle is a fool, and must pay for his folly. I could do nothing for him if I wished it ever so much, and I am not sure that I do wish it at all. I have neither patience with nor pity for these men. It is the wife I am thinking of, as he ought to have been, before he ran his head against a wall. Something might be done for her, though I don't plainly see what. There, Evan, go off to bed, I will talk it over with Mr. Prescott.”
The result of the talk was that the friends drove down the following morning to Knightsbridge. Mrs. Holl—her honest face swollen and red from crying—was, as usual, washing. Her sister-in-law sat by the fire in an apathy of sorrow. She could cry no more, and, worn out by her grief, looked the image of despondency. When the young men entered she did not even look up or appear to notice their presence.
“Evan has been telling us, Mrs. Holl,” Frank began, “about this bad affair of your husband's brother. Of course nothing can be done in his case, but we came to ask what his wife intends to do.”
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“Bless the poor creature,” Mrs. Holl said, “she ain't even thought about it. She is grieving too much over that husband of hers. There, I have no patience with him, though he be my John's brother. To think what a tidy chap he were, and what a steady good workman, before he took up with these Chartist goings-on.”
“Yes,” Bessy Holl said, speaking suddenly, and almost startling her listeners, for she had appeared lost in her own thoughts, as indeed she was, having probably but a vague idea of what was being said; “yes, Bill was that; there was not his equal, I've heard say, at planing and grooving, and moulding and tongueing. But there,” and here she broke into a sort of hysterical laughter, “it's the tongueing that's done it, and I knew it would all along. God forgive me!” she again broke out after a pause, “I don't know what I am talking about,” and then she began to cry quietly again, rocking herself to and fro.
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“I will tell you what I thought, Mrs. Holl. You see, when a convict first goes out he is put to work upon the roads. After he has been at that for some time, in proportion to the length of his sentence, he is hired out to one of the farmers, and a year or two afterwards, if his conduct continues good, he gets a ticket-of-leave, and does as he pleases. Now, in the present case, as the sentence is only for seven years, it is probable that your brother will not be kept more than a year upon public work, and will then be hired to a farmer. No disgrace will attach to him afterwards for having been a convict for his political opinions, and he may yet live to make an honest name and a fair position in Australia. Now, my idea is that his wife should sail a year after him and join him there; it is probable that she would find no difficulty in getting employment about the house or dairy wherever he may be. Women are scarce there. The passage money out is about twenty-five pounds, and say another ten pounds for expenses out there until she is settled—thirty-five pounds. Now, Mrs. Holl, I have plenty of money and I don't see that I can do better with it than to lend this money [66] to your sister-in-law. I am a very unsettled man and do not know where I may be at the end of some months, so I have handed over the money to Mr. Prescott here, and at the end of a year, if Mrs. Holl is ready to start to join her husband, he will give it to her.”
As he finished, Bessy Holl rose from her chair and tottered three steps forward, and then fell upon her knees. Then she tried to speak, but tears and sobs choked her, and she could only gasp out, “God bless you! God bless you! to think, only a year—my William, my William!” and she went off in violent hysterics.
The young men assisted Mrs. Holl to raise her, and to carry her into the next room and lay her upon a bed, and then Frank said, “We had better leave her to you, Mrs. Holl; she will soon be better.”
Mrs. Holl turned to him and took his hand, “Young gentleman,” she said, solemnly, “the [67] thought of that poor child's joyful cry will ring in your ears and gladden your heart may be for many a year to come. You will have yo............