"Why are you here, Carolan?”

"On a false charge," burst out Carolan.

"I would not have believed there was such wickedness in the world!”

Esther touched Carolan's shoulders timidly, "Do not despair.”

Despair!" cried Carolan angrily.

"How can one but despair of this wicked place; in the country it was so different ..." She stopped. Was it so different? She thought of Jim Bennett, the farm labourer who had stolen a rabbit from Squire Haredon's fields. What had happened to him? She had heard vague talk of fourteen years ... Transportation of course; there had seemed nothing unusual about that; she had not given the matter a thought.

There was a sob in her throat now.

"I have been blind," she said.

"Blind!" She cried out: "Do not talk of me! Later I will tell you; but now I would hear of you. What brought you here? You stole nothing! You did no crime!”

"It is good of you to believe that, and even before I have said a word.”

"I am no fool!" said Carolan, and laughed inwardly at herself, for was she not the biggest, the most easily duped of all fools who had ever led themselves and others to destruction!

"I would like to tell you of myself," said Esther.

"It is an ordinary enough little story, I fear. My father was a curate, and we were very, very poor. There were six of us. But he taught me, and when I was sixteen I was given a post as governess in the family of a squire... and the squire had a son." She looked down at her hands, and Carolan was aware of the deep shame that beset her.

"He ... made advances ... which I could not accept, and that made him very angry. I did not know what to do, and I sought the protection of his parents. They did not believe me ... and when the squire's lady lost a valuable ring she accused me ... and the ring was found in my room, and I was brought here. But I swear I knew nothing of the ring!”

"But did you not explain?”

The ring was found in my room.”

"She put it there that wicked mother of a wicked son! Oh, how I hate this world!”

"Whom the Lord loveth He chasreneth. We must bear our sufferings with fortitude. That is what my father used to say. They were sent us for a purpose. We must be meek, for it is the meek who inherit the earth.”

"That is a doctrine I will never accept. I will tell you something; I am going to marry a man who is a parson.”

"Oh!" Esther exclaimed with delight.

"I am glad ... Carolan.”

"But," said Carolan, 'there are matters on which we cannot agree. I do not think we should accept our sufferings and the sufferings of others.

Everard and I almost quarrelled about that. He said I was headstrong, illogical. He believes that people should be contented with their lot in life because that lot has fallen to them through God's will. I do not! I never will!”

"Godliness," said Esther, 'is humility!”

"Then I'll have none of it!" cried Carolan.

"When I think of what has happened to me ... and my poor darling Mamma ... and Millie there ... and what has happened to you, I want to set faggots in this place, and pour oil on them, and I want to see this evil place go up in smoke. And yes ... I would throw Jonathan Crew, who betrayed my father, into the flames ... and with him your wicked squire's son and his mother ...”

"Ah, Carolan, you must not say such things, for truly it is the will of God that we are here.”

"Since you are obviously a saint, you had better steer clear of me.” said Carolan.

"I love the fire in you. It warms me. And I am so cold, so lonely and so frightened! I am wicked too, for I have had more comfort from your presence than from my prayers. There! That shows how wicked I am, does it not? Are you crying too? We must not cry, Carolan. This is our cross, and we must bear it. You see, I who have been so wretched, Carolan have had my prayers answered. I have now a friend, someone who talks to me, listens to me, who doesn't laugh at me, who does not pinch me and kick me and scratch me, who gives me clothes to covet me.”

"Why did they take your clothes ... all your clothes?" demanded Carolan. The others have some rags to cover them.”

"When I came in," said Esther, 'they cried at me, as they do to all, "Garnish!" I had no garnish. I had nothing ... nothing but the clothes in which I stood. What could I do, therefore? They tore them from me as they did from your mother. But they left me my shift. And that night I knelt down and prayed, because my father has always said to me, "Never mind where you are, whatever you are doing, you must always kneel down and say your prayers." I always had; and I did. And as I prayed they crept closer to me. Carolan, I am so feeble; I have no godliness in me, though I try to be good like my father. I knelt over there; you see, near the sill there. Through my closed lids I was aware of the flickering light from the whale oil lamp, and, Carolan, I tried so hard to go on with my prayers and not notice them. But I was afraid; I was more afraid than I had ever been before in the whole of my life. I could feel them creeping up to me; I did not know what they would do to me. I could smell their mingled breaths very close to me, and it was horrible, horrible, Carolan. You who are so brave could have no idea. Closer, they came; they were all round me; then one of them laughed. It was terrible laughter, Carolan. I trembled; I stopped praying; I covered my face with my hands, for I knew that the most terrible moment I had ever known was upon me. There I knelt in my shift, saying under my breath, as my father had taught me, "Courage, O Lord; give me courage!" Then they started." She stopped, and covered her face with her hands; she began to sob.

"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.”