“Yes—­stuck hard and fast; so my dear little woman, don’t you go back on your wedding-day promises, but just lend a helping hand.  I don’t know what is to be done with that poor young woman in No. 19.  One of the under-wardens, Jarvis, sleeps this week right under her cell, and he tells me that all night long she tramps up and down, without cessation, like some caged animal.  This is her third day in, and she has not touched a morsel; though at Judge Dent’s request I ordered some extras given her.  Jarvis said she was not sullen, but he thought it proper to report to me that she seemed to act very strangely; so I went up to see after her.  When I opened the door she was walking up and down the floor, with her hands locked at the back of her head, and I declare, Susie, she looks five years older than when she came here.  There are great dark hollows under her eyes, and two red spots like coals of fire on her cheeks.  I said:  ’Are you sick, that you reject your meals?’ To which she replied:  ’Don’t trouble yourself to send me food; I cannot eat!’ Then I told her I understood that she was restless at night, and I advised her to take a mixture which would quiet her nerves.  She shook her head, and I could not bear to look at her; the eyes seemed so like a wounded fawn’s, brimful of misery.  I asked her if there was anything I could do, to make her more comfortable; or if she needed medicine.  All this time she kept up her quick walk to and fro, and she answered:  ‘Thank you.  I need nothing—­but death; and that will come soon.’  Now what could I say?  I felt such a lump in my throat, that if Solomon had whispered to me some kind speech, I could not have uttered it, so I got out of the room just as fast as possible, to dry the tears that somehow would blur my eyes.  When they are surly, or snappish, or violent, or insolent, I know exactly what to do, and have no trouble; but hang me, if I can cope with this lady—­there it is out!  She is a lady every inch, and as much out of place here as I should be in Queen Victoria’s drawing-room.  Men are clumsy brutes, even in kid gloves, and bruise much oftener than they heal.  Whenever I am in that girl’s presence, I have a queer feeling that I am walking on eggs, and tip-toe as I may, shall smash things.  If something is not done, she will be ill on our hands, and a funeral will balk the bloodhounds.”

“O, hush, Ned!  You give me the shivers.  My heart yearns toward that beautiful young creature, and I believe she is as innocent as my baby.  It is a burning shame to send her here, unless there is no doubt of her guilt.  Judge Dent is too shrewd an old fox to be baited with chaff, and I am satisfied from what he told you, that he believes her statement.  There is nothing I would not do to comfort her, but I would rather have my ears boxed than witness her suffering.  The day I carried to her a change of clothes, until her own could be washed, and sewed up her dress sleeve.  I did nothing but cry.