"Silence there." snarled a drunken voice in the darkness.

Carolan whispered: "Don't cry. Don't think of it telling it brings it back.”

"But I want to talk to you. I have talked to no one for weeks, and the silence is more than I can bear. I must tell you what I had to suffer here; I must make you understand why I could not be brave. I did not kneel again, after that night. I prayed silently. You see. Carolan.

I denied my God. That's why He had forgotten me.”

Carolan said: "When I was little, my half-sister and I used to go to the curate for Bible lessons; he was the curate to the father of the man I am going to marry. I never listened to those lessons; my cousin Margaret did though.”

"Poor Carolan, then you have been denied the comfort of God.”

"I." said Carolan, 'would rather rely on the comfort of my own ability to stand up to these beasts! Tell me more, if it does not distress you too much.”

They jeered at me, Carolan. That was not all; they ... took my shift, and when I stood before them in terrible shame, they laughed at me.

They touched me, Carolan ... they did obscene things to me, Carolan.

They said things that were coarse and horrible; I cannot talk of them; I cannot tell you. And next night I... did not kneel and pray. They would not give me any clothes to cover me. I have found pieces of old rag and tied them about me, and worn them for a day or so ... perhaps longer ... until they notice and remember, and then the rags have been torn off me...”

"If you have been here a month, you cannot surely stay much longer. You will have to stand for trial surely.”

"Some day, I suppose; I do not know when.”

"How can people be so cruel, one to another? Do you know?”

"I do not, Carolan. But I believe that when life gets too bad something happens to help you along. Today I had felt so weary, so tired, so cold, so hungry; and I have thought of the winter coming on, and I have said to myself: "I cannot bear it. If I could find some means of ending my life, how gladly would I take it!" And then, just as I thought these wicked thoughts, the door opened and you came in, and your courage and the way you held your head made me ashamed of myself.”

Carolan said: "There must be some way of getting a message to my friends!”

"You need money. All the time in Newgate you need money. They say that a stay in Newgate is not too unpleasant if you have money. Money will buy you a separate room, food, coals, candles. Without money you get your pennyworth of bread each day, and water from the pump to drink. That is how things are here on the Common Side.”

"Something will be done!" said Carolan.

"I will see to it. Somehow I will get a message out. Why ... there is Everard! He will surely come for me. There is the squire; when he hears where I am, he will not tolerate that for a day. He has money; he has influence; and so has Everard. They will come for me. I know they will! And listen, Esther. This I swear. I will not leave this place unless you come with me. You are innocent, more innocent than I, for I was a fool, and folly must be paid for. I shall not let them keep you here...!”

Carolan broke off. Esther was kneeling now, with her eyes tightly shut, and the palms of her hands pressed together. Through her closed lids tears trickled down her cheeks. Her lips were moving.

"I thank thee, O Lord!" And Carolan knew that till the end of her days she would remember that scene, the sleeping bodies around her, the wail of a hungry child, the dismal gloom, the hateful stench ... and the kneeling girl, offering thanks to her God.

Carolan could not define her feelings; she was too worn out to cry; she was angry; she was moved; she was full of exaltation, for she was going to help this Esther, as a little while ago she had planned to help her parents; she was, too, full of sorrow and misgivings.

Esther's hands fell to her sides; her face, in the light from the lamp, looked radiant.

"How old are you, Esther?" asked Carolan.

"Sixteen.”

"My poor child!" said Carolan.

"I am seventeen.”

"We are much of an age then," said Esther shyly.

"Yes, but I am older. I am going to try to sleep now. Can you?”

"May I stay near you?”

"Of course. You will join us now, Esther, will you not? We are all friends?”

Esther settled down beside them, and both girls lay for a long time, eyes open, staring at the grim walls enclosing them.

"Esther," said Carolan, 'you must not cry so much.”

"No. I have not cried so much until tonight.”

"You must not cry! You must not cry!" said Carolan, and silently wept.

Morning came, exposing fresh horrors. Now it was possible to see more clearly, the depraved faces of those about her. Carolan kept thinking: I shall wake up. We went to the play last night. This is a nightmare.

I shall wake up in my bed.

But she could not go on indefinitely thinking it was a dream. Soon that other life, the serene, happy, free life would seem the dream, and this horror the reality.

Kitty was sick that morning, and the irons cut into her flesh; she cried with the pain. She was not sure where they were yet, and Carolan was glad of this.

"Carolan, how my back hurts! It's bruised. This bed is so hard.

Carolan, where are we? There is something horrible near me... something dead; I smell it.”

Carolan sent Millie for water, and Millie got it ... with Esther's help. Kitty drank, and Carolan bathed her face and then Kitty fell into a deep but troubled sleep.

"She will recover." said Esther.

"She is healthy ... that much I see. She has had enough to eat; it is those who come in starving, who are quickly starved to death. I wish we could loosen those irons; they are too tight. See how the flesh is swollen...”

"What can I do about that?" demanded Carolan.

"Cannot the irons be taken off? There is no fear of Mamma's trying to escape.”

"They could be bought off... all save one." An assistant keeper came in; he was carrying ale and bread which he had bought for a prisoner who had had a little money sent in to her.

Carolan went to him.

"My mother's irons must be removed. Otherwise I fear there will be trouble.”

Bleary eyes studied her. Her clothes were good.

"One set "as to remain," said the man, 'but...”

"Money, I suppose!" said Carolan. Then I have none. You will do this for the sake of decency!”

He chortled.

"Decency, eh?" He scratched his head.

"Now I can't say as how I've heard of irons being struck off for decency. Money's the only thing that'll strike off irons, my lady. And then the one must be left. Fair's fair... that's what we say in Newgate. One pair has to stay on.”

"I will get money... somewhere!" said Carolan.

But the man was no longer interested; he had passed on.

"I cannot endure this!" cried Carolan, returning to her mother.

"She still sleeps," said Esther.

"And look. She is smiling in her sleep. That means good dreams.”

Carolan said angrily: "I will not stay here! I will get out! But shall I? How do I know? Everything I have done since I have been in this accursed city has made trouble. I am more likely to lead you into trouble than get you out of it. Millie! Why don't you reproach me? I brought you into this. You... my mother... my father... myself I It was my folly. I do not think I shall ever get out. I shall stay here for the rest of my days ... for I am a fool... a crazy fool who not only brings trouble on herself, but on all those around her!”

Millie stared, open-mouthed. Esther sought to comfort her, and Esther could do that, for when Carolan looked through her tears at the sweet face of the girl, so pale and thin, she wondered how she could speak of her misfortune when before her was the greater one of Esther.

The day began to wear on. Now the door was unlocked, and the prisoners had the use of one of the yards. The scene was more sordid by daylight than it had been by the light of the whale-oil lamps. The faces of the women were more clearly seen, and in consequence more horrible. But already Carolan was not feeling the horror of the place so acutely; her eyes had grown accustomed to the sight of vermin; her, ears to the obscenity of the conversation in which these creatures seemed to find some relief from their misery; she did not feel now that the smell of the place would make net retch. She had learned that the feeling one may have for a fellow being is in some strange way a more precious thing than it would otherwise have been, if that friendship is nurtured in misery shared. She was drawn to Esther more than she had ever been drawn to anyone in so short a time. Esther was so weak, and that pioneer spirit in Carolan, that leadership which was so essentially a part of her character, was stimulated.

Carolan found that she could not eat the bread that was given her.

Esther ate hers ravenously; so did Millie. Millie was like an animal, adaptable, accepting the cruelty of life as her natural due.

"You must eat," said Esther.

"I cannot!" said Carolan.

"It is filthy stuff.”

"It is all we shall get. Only those who have money can eat better food.”

"I would rather starve than eat that.”

"Save it," said Esther.

"You will be glad of it later.”

"It will be crawling with maggots by that time. You and Millie eat it between you.”

Millie's eyes glistened hungrily; Esther tried to prevent hers from doing the same; and Carolan broke the loaf in two and gave them half each. She felt rather sick to see the eagerness with which they consumed the mouldy stuff.