“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.
Kitty stirred. She murmured, “Carolan, is that you? Don’t draw the curtains … How my head aches! I will have my chocolate now.”
Carolan bent over her.
“Mamma… you are not at home now.”
Kitty opened her eyes very wide. Memory came back. She tried to raise herself.
“Carolan, what is this…? Why, Carolan…”
Kitty had raised her head and was looking about her.
“Oh…” she said.
“I… remember…”
“We are in Newgate, Mamma. You remember what happened last night?”
“Darrell…” said Kitty, and began to cry.
“Mamma, Mamma, you must have courage. We will get out of here. Then we will avenge him! I will get a message out to Everard and … the squire… We shall get out, never fear!”
Kitty said: “My darling, of course we shall get out. But … your father … Oh; Carolan, I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it! That man … that vile beast… and I thought … it was my folly…”
“Listen, Mamma! We were foolish, all of us. We are paving for our folly now. Let us not look back. My father would not have wanted us to do that.”
There was no comforting Kitty. She wept bitterly and her sorrow was great, for she did not even notice that her clothes were torn and her body bruised, though now and then her hand as though unconsciously, strayed down to where the irons cut into her flesh.
Esther whispered: “Poor, lovely lady! How unhappy she is! And you see, her sorrow for her husband wipes out all other pain. She does not feel her own sickness; she does not feel the pain that iron is giving her; she only feels one sorrow, and that is the loss of her husband. That is proof of the goodness of God.”
Carolan, sick with grief like a wounded animal, spoke sharply to the girl.
“Do not talk to me of God. What have any one of us done that we should suffer in this way! That is what I should like to know!”
“Hush!” said Esther.
“Oh, hush!” And she looked so calm, so serene, that it was Carolan’s turn to be comforted. Carolan had physical strength; Esther had spiritual strength. They could lean on each other; they had much to give, and much to take.
With the passing of the day their spirits rose a little. Kitty’s natural optimism was fighting its way to the surface. This, she said, was not the sort of thing that could happen to people like them. What had they done to deserve it? The thing to do was to get a message through to Squire Haredon and Everard Orland. She tried to walk out into the yard with the young people, but she walked painfully and each step made the irons cut more severely into her leg. She was horrified at the discoloration which was already beginning to show itself.
“They must be removed at once,” she said.
“As soon as we can get some money they shall be,” Carolan assured her.
Kitty pointed out her grievance to one of the guards, showing him her swollen ankle. Queer, thought Carolan, how naturally the role of coquette came to Kitty; she would play it even in her moments of direst misery. But the man was dour; he shook his head. Irons could be bought off; he had never heard of them coming off for any other reason. Kitty was shocked at the refusal of her request, but the man’s indifference acted like a douche of cold water in her face. She brightened. Of course, she was looking frightful! Carolan seemed to see her reasoning to herself… Her cloak was torn, her skin scratched, her hair .. oh, her beautiful hair! These things could be remedied… and when had Kitty ever failed to get what she wanted from mankind? Carolan’s heart was filled with pity for this poor foolish Mamma.
During the second day a turnkey came into the prison room and called: “Haredon! Who is Haredon here?”
Carolan started to her feet.
“Carolan Haredon,” he said.
“Are you the one?”
“I am,” said Carolan.
“Then you had better come with me.”
“Why?” said Carolan.
The turnkey shrugged his shoulders.
“Orders was to bring you; not to tell what you’re wanted for.”
“Suppose I refuse to go!” cried Carolan, incensed by the cruel eyes of the man, and of all these men who found amusement in the torture, both mental and physical, of their fellow beings.