"Katharine, you know how deeply your father and I feel; this. Cannot you realize that we know better than you do?”

"No, Mamma, you do not know better. It is for each person to manage his own life, surely. Because you made a good job of yours, it doesn't follow that you can make a good job of mine. Mamma, I do not want to go on deceiving you.”

"Oh no? You did that very successfully, for how many years?”

"Only because it was necessary. Please give your consent to our marriage, Mamma ... darling Mamma! We have loved each other so much, you and Papa and all of us. I am going to marry Henry; let us be happy about it.”

"My dear child, you talk romantic nonsense. It is your happiness we think of. You know how that boy has been brought up. You know what his father is a convict!”

"Mamma!”

"I was different, I tell you. It was a mistake. Good gracious, child, do you believe your own mother to be a felon?”

"No, no. Mammal Dearest Mamma...”

"It is very different with him. He was a thief. He was here before.

He escaped and was sent back again. I know his record.”

"His record, Mamma, is his affair. It is Henry I propose to marry.”

"But he is Henry's father!”

"Mamma, if you had done something terrible, you would not expect people to blame me!”

What did she mean? What did she know? It was that wicked old Margery.

Did she feel ghosts in this house?

"Oh, Mamma, I know you will be reasonable. You won't blame Henry because of what his father did?”

"I will never give my consent to your marriage with that boy.”

"You must know that we shall never give each other up.”

"I should advise you not to do anything rash. You are our daughter; you are seventeen years old; your father could have him sent to prison for abducting you.”

"Oh, Mamma, you could not be so cruel, so... so wicked!”

"There are many things I would do if I were driven to them ...”

"Mamma, you frighten me.”

"Ridiculous child! Why should I frighten you?”

"You must not be cruel to Henry, Mamma!”

"I hope you will be sensible, darling. You have no notion of how exciting life in London can be, if you have money and position. Suppose your father insisted on your marriage to Sir Anthony! You would be grateful to him to the end of your days.”

"If Papa knew how unhappy I should be, married to Sit Anthony, he would never force me to it... unless you insisted.”

"My dear child, do not stare at me like that.”

'you look different...”

"Stupid! Well, leave me now. It is for your father to decide.”

"No. Mamma, it is you who decide. You could persuade him, and I know he would want me to be happy. You could tell him how there is one way of making me happy.”

You ate stubborn, Katharine. Go to your room. My head aches. Think of what I have said to you. Think of what will be best for us all.”

Katharine went to the door. She looked dazed, as though she were seeing Henry dragged from her. Van Diemen's Land! It's hell on earth, and hell on earth is surely as bad as hell in belli "Audrey!" Carolan called, when Katharine had gone.

"My head aches. Sprinkle a little perfume on a handkerchief, and lay it across my forehead." Audrey gently did so. Thank you, Audrey.”

Sleepily she smiled, and thought of Gunnar, the cold man whom it was so easy to rouse to sudden passion, even now. Queer faithful Gunnar. She had chosen him and the house with its comforts. She had turned away from the station, back of beyond, and quick hates and quicker love. And she did not know now whether she had chosen the right way. No way is right -perhaps that is the answer. Here she was, a beauty at thirty-six; she did not eat recklessly of the sweets of life, as poor Kitty had done; she was plump, bat not over-fat. How would she have grown in the station? A slattern? That wild life would make demands on a woman, take toll of her beauty. And Marcus ever had a roving eye.

He would never have been true, and she would have hated him for that, and perhaps she would not have been true either, for she was hot-tempered and impulsive, and would have wanted to pay him back in his own coin.

How should you know which was the right road for you and no road was sunshine all the way I But she wanted so desperately to have done something fine with her life. She was full of memories tonight. There was something Esther once said about her being a pioneer; and she had answered that she would have liked to have been the Good Samaritan, but she greatly feared that she would have passed by on the other side of the road. It was only when she fell among thieves that she cared about other victims. And yet a woman had walked into that den of savages, and she had smiled, and her smile was the smile of an angel, and her dress rustled like the wings of an angel, and she picked up a naked child, suffering from some hideous disease. Without feat she had done these things, and only a saint could go among those caged beasts and be without fear. What power had she?

"Audrey! Audrey! Come here.”

Audrey came and stood by the bed.

"Bring a chair, Audrey, and sit down. I would hear more of this Mrs.

Fry.”

Audrey kept telling the story of her coming. It was like a miracle.

Dead silence, and her standing there. An angel. And she picked up the little child. And he was naked and his face was half eaten away ...

Only those who had lived in Newgate could understand that that was a miracle. Carolan, her face pressed against her pillow, saw it clearly, as though she had been there when it happened.

Audrey stumbled over her words, but she gave a picture of a changing Newgate. People who were taken in now did not suffer quite so intensely, as Carolan had suffered. Change had been worked by an angel in a Quaker gown. Audrey talked of the readings, of the sewing; how it was possible to earn money while you were in Newgate. There had been the visitation of this angel, and she had spread her wings over the prison and given her loving care to those sad people.

Tell me about her! Tell me about her! What does she look like?”

"I couldn't say ... She's different ... M'am. That's all you know...”

"Different? Different from me? Different from you?”

"She makes you feel you ain't all bad, M'am. She makes you feel you might have a chance." A chance? A chance? that's how she makes you feel.

"What sort of chance?”

"I dunno. Just a chance She's different.”

"Is she beautiful?”

"Not like you, M'am. Not that sort of beautiful. She's different ...

I dunno. She makes you feel you've got a chance.”

"Why did you not tell me about her before?"

 "I dunno, M'am. You didn't ask. She come to us, Ma'm, when we was waiting on the ship, to sail, and she talked to us ... she talked lovely.”

"What did she say?”

"I dunno. She made you feel you wasn't all bad. She made you feel you'd got a chance ... And it was 'cos of her we'd come down closed, they said. She wanted us closed in. She said it ought to be ...”

Carolan said: "Leave me now, Audrey. I want to sleep. I have a headache." And Audrey went.

It was all coming back vividly. The arrival in Newgate, the fight, the talk, the smell, the ride to Portsmouth. Mamma, Millie, Esther so young and pure, praying in that foul place and the whale-oil lamp flickering in the opening high in the wall. The ship. The deck. Hot morning, and coloured birds of brilliant plumage, and the horrible man with the eyeglass, and Gunnar... What was the good of having lived I wanted to be a saint. I wanted to be like Mrs. Fry. I would have gone there; I would have been unafraid. I would have picked up the little child. I... I... I could have made them feel there was still a chance. But what have I done with my life? What indeed!

She began to shiver.

"You should have been a pioneer. You could have been, Carolan!" No, Esther, no! I should have passed by on the other side of the road.

But I wasn't all bad. I should have been a good wife to Everard. I should have cared for the poor and I should have understood their troubles and helped them. Perhaps if I had married Everard I should have been different. I might have been good -not wicked. I might even have been like you, Mrs. Fry.

"Marcus!" she cried.

He leaped from his saddle and tied his horse to the tree. She noticed his hands; they were brown with the weather.

He said: "I knew you would come!" with all the old confidence, and as though years had not passed since their last meeting.

"Carolan! Carolan! Why, you have scarcely changed at all!”

"Rubbish!" she said.

"I am years older. I am the mother of six children.”

"Well, Carolan, Carolan!”

She remembered his old habit of repeating her name; it still had power to move her.

This is a great day in my life!”

The old flattery that meant nothing. He would flatter old Margery just because he could not help flattering women.

"Are you glad to see me, Carolan? Do you find me changed?" He had come forward; he had taken her hands; his eyes were older, with experience, with weather; but the charm persisted.

"Naturally! Since I have come a fair ride to see you. But we did not come to talk of ourselves.”

"Did we not?" He was still holding her hands.

"Not such an uninteresting subject! Carolan, how has life been treating you, Carolan?”

"Very well, thanks. You too, I think.”

Very badly, Carolan, since I lost you.”

"Oh, Marcus, you are too old for that sort of talk, and I am too wise to listen to it. It is of our children that we must talk.”