“We were obliged to move her, after she was sentenced, but the doctor said one of those cells down stairs would be certain and quick death for her, with her lungs in such a condition; so we put her in the smallest room on this floor; the last one at the end of the corridor.  It is only a closet it is true, but it is right in the angle, and has two narrow slits of windows, one opening south, the other west, and the sunshine gets in.  The day after her trial ended, she sent for the sheriff, who happened to be here, and asked him if solitary confinement was not considered a more severe penalty than any other form here?  When he told her it was, she said:  Then it could not be construed into clemency or favoritism if you ordered me into solitary confinement?  Certainly not, he told her.  Whereupon she begged him to allow her to be shut up away from the others, as she would sooner sit in the dark and see no human being, than be forced to associate with the horrible, guilty outcasts down stairs.  While he and Ned were consulting about her case, she was taken very ill.  Of course you know Ned has a good deal of latitude and discretion allowed him, and the doctor is on our side, but even at best, the rules are stern.  She takes her meals alone, and the only place where she meets the other convicts—­isn’t it a shame to call her one!—­is the chapel; and even there she is separated, because Ned has given her charge of the organ.  Everybody under sentence is obliged to work, but she does not go down into the general sewing room.  The superintendent of that department apportions a certain amount of sewing, and her share is sent up daily to her.  She really is not able to work, but begged that we should give her some employment.”

“She consented to see Mr. Prince Darrington?”

“Oh, no!  It was the merest accident that he succeeded in speaking to her.  He happened to come the day that I took her out for the first time in the garden, for a little fresh air in the sunshine; and we met him and Ned on the walk.  O, Mr. Dunbar!  It was pitiful to see her face, when the young man took off his hat, and said: 

“‘I am General Darrington’s adopted son.’

“She was so weak she had been leaning on me, but she threw up her head, and her figure stiffened into steel.  ’You imagine that I am the person who robbed you of Gen’l Darrington’s fortune?  I suffer for crimes I did not commit; and am the innocent victim selected to atone for your injuries.  My wrongs are more cruel than yours.  You merely lost lands and money.  Can you, by the wildest flight of fancy conjecture that aught but disgrace and utter ruin remain for me?’ Ned and I walked away; and when we came back she had stepped into the hall, and drawn the inside door between them.  He was standing bareheaded, gazing up at her, and she was looking down at him through the open iron lattice, as if he were the real culprit.  That night she had a nervous chill that lasted several hours, and we promised that no one should be allowed to see her.  Of course the inspectors go everywhere, and when Ned opened her door, I was with her, giving her the tonic the Doctor ordered three times a day.  I had prepared her for their visit, but when the gentlemen crowded in, she put her hands over her face and hid it on the table.  There was not a syllable uttered, and they walked out quickly.”