She responded with a little laugh which was not
unlike his, but there was something more: that old sweet sprightliness of
her youth, shot through with a haunting modulation,--almost pensiveness,
but her face was self-possessed. She drew near, pressed the old man's
hand, and spoke softly. Presently she saw that he was asleep.
She sat for some time, not stirring. At last she was about to rise and
take him to his room, but hearing noises in the street she stepped to the
window. There were men below, and this made her apprehensive. She
hurried over, kissed the old man, passed from the room, and met her old
servant Hulm in the passage, who stretched out her hand in distress.
"What is it, Hulm?" she asked, a chill at her heart. "Oh, how can I tell
you!" was the answer. "Our fleet was beaten, and--and my master is a
prisoner." The wife saw that this was not all. "Tell me everything,
Hulm," she said trembling, yet ready for the worst.
"Oh, my dear, dear mistress, I cannot!"
"Hulm, you see that I am calm," she answered. "You are only paining me."
"They are to try him for his life!" She caught her mistress by the
waist, but Jessica recovered instantly.
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