Silently, an attendant conducted Tessibel through the long stone corridors to the prison hospital.
As she passed, eager eyes watched her from the rows of cots against the wall. She was piloted to a bed near the end of the room.
"Here's your company, Bennet," said the officer.
The figure on the bed turned and pain-ridden eyes peered up. Tess felt her throat throb with sympathy.
"What do ye want, miss?" growled a weak voice.
Tess smiled and bent over the bed. "I want to talk to you," she said. "May I?"
Bennet's face softened immediately. He thought a beautiful angel had dropped from Heaven to the side of his prison bed.
"Yep," he whispered, blinking at her. "There air somethin' under the bed to set on, ma'am."
Drawing forth a stool, Tess raised the lowered back and sat down.
In the presence of such misery, she had almost forgotten her little friend in the cell outside. Just then, she wanted to comfort Owen Bennet, to say something which would take away that writhing expression of suffering.