An ordinary woman would have shrunk from the misery which surrounded her, but she never did. All the sorrow, the discontent, which so often troubled her, ceased to be as she stood beside her husband in that narrow cell. With strong hands, helped by Reginald, she arranged his bed; she spoke to him, she comforted him; even in his delirium he knew her and clung to her. That he was desperately ill she saw at a glance, but even the doctor, a rough, hard man, when he came to visit him, grew soft in Mistress Newbolt's presence.
"Madam," he said, "I cannot tell whether he will live or die. His life is in your hands."
"Not in mine," said Mistress Newbolt, "but in God's."
"We do not hear much of God here," said the doctor roughly. "It is verily a God-forsaken place; but your presence is potent, your care may save him."
"I can only stay here a few hours," she answered, "at least, so I am told. I will do what I can."
"You may stay here as long as you choose," said the doctor. "I will speak to the governor."
And so it came to pass that Mistress Newbolt was established at Newgate. That first night her husband was seized with such violent delirium that it required two men to hold him down.
Reginald therefore remained till early morning, when, exhausted, the patient dropped into a deep sleep. Then his mother bade him go and rest.
"You have your duties to attend to; you have Ann to see after," she said. "I am sufficient here."
"Will you not be afraid to remain here alone, Mother?" asked Reginald.