Bishop shook his head sagely.
“I doubt you bruised it getting out of the window,” he said. “Well, well, miss; live and learn. Another time you’ll be wiser, I hope; and not do such things.”
She did not answer, and the chaise passing by Plumgarth began to descend into the wide stony valley. Below them the white-washed walls and slated roofs and mills of Kendal could be seen clustering about the Castle Bow and the old grey ruin that rises above the Ken river. On either hand bleak hills, seamed with grey walls, made up a landscape that rose without beauty to a lowering sky. There were few trees, no hedges; and somewhere the cracked bell of a drugget factory or a dye-works was clanging out a monotonous summons. To Henrietta’s eye—fresh from the lake-side verdure—and still more to her heart, the northern landscape struck cold and cheerless. It had given her but a sorry welcome had she been on her way to seek the hospitality of the inn. How much poorer was its welcome when she had no prospect before her but the scant comfort and unknown hardships of a gaol!
The chaise did not enter the town, but a furlong short of it turned aside and made for a group of windowless buildings, which crowned a small eminence a bow-shot from the houses. As the horses drew the chaise up the ascent to a heavy stone doorway, Henrietta had time to see that the entrance was mean, if strong, and the place as unpretending as it was dull. Nevertheless, her heart beat almost to suffocation, as she stepped out at a word from Bishop, who had alighted at once and knocked at the iron-studded door. With small delay a grating was opened, a pale face, marked by high, hollow temples, looked out; and some three or four sentences were exchanged. Then the door was unlocked and thrown open. Bishop signed to her to enter first and she did so—after an imperceptible pause. She found herself in a small well-like yard, with the door and window of the prison-lodge on her left and dead walls on the other sides.
Two children were playing on the steps of the lodge, and some linen, dubiously drying in the cold winter air, hung on a line stretched from the window to a holdfast in the opposite wall. Unfortunately, the yard had been recently washed, and still ran with water; so that these homely uses, and even the bench and pump which stood in a corner, failed to impart much cheerfulness to its aspect. Had Henrietta’s heart been capable of sinking lower it had certainly done so.
The children stared open-mouthed at her: but not with half as much astonishment as the man in shirt sleeves who had admitted her. “Eh, sir, but you’ve brought the cage a fine bird,” he said at last. “Your servant, miss. Well, well, well!” with surprise. And he scratched his head and grinned openly. “Debtors’ side, I suppose?”
“Remand,” Bishop answered with a wink and a meaning shake of the head. “Here’s the warrant. All’s right.” And then to Henrietta—“If you’ll sit down on that bench, miss, I’ll fix things up for you.”
The girl, her face a little paler than usual, sat down as she was bidden, and looked about her. This was not her notion of a prison; for here were neither gyves nor dungeons, but just a slatternly, damp yard—as like as could be to some small backyard in the out-offices of her brother’s house. Nevertheless, the gyves might be waiting for her out of sight; and with or without them, the place was horribly depressing that winter afternoon. The sky was grey above, the walls were grey, the pavement grey. She was almost glad when Bishop and the man in shirt-sleeves emerged from the lodge followed by a tall, hard-featured woman in a dirty mob-cap. The woman’s arms were bare to the elbow, and she carried a jingling bunch of keys. She eyed Henrietta with dull dislike.
“That is settled, then,” Bishop said, a little overdoing the cheerfulness at which he aimed. “Mother Weighton will see to you, and ’twill be all right. There are four on the debtors’ side, and you’ll be best in the women-felons’, she thinks, since it’s empty, and you’ll have it all to yourself.”
Henrietta heaved a deep sigh of relief. “I shall be alone, then?” she said. “Oh, thank you.”