"There was not much to say, therefore, when my Mother understood her errand. My Mother's word had weight, and in a few hours she had procured a permit for Rachel to see her husband, provided the interview was in her presence. "It was a noisome place, she said--many persons crowded together like cattle in dungeons, with scant light or air, and none to wait on them but each other. Job was on some straw in a corner, looking sorely altered--his strong limbs limp and emaciated, and his eye languid. But it was wonderful how his face lighted up when he saw Rachel. "'I thought thee would come', said he, 'though I bid thee not. I knew thee had learned how "all things are possible."' "My Mother's intercessions procured for them the great favour of a cell, which, though narrow, low, damp, and underground, they were to have to themselves. And before she left, Rachel's neat hands had made the straw and matting look like a proper sick-bed, while her presence had lighted the cell into a home. "Then my Mother went to see Roger Drayton. His wound was not so severe as Job's, and his lodging was better, though wretched enough. Great complaints were made about the prisons. But, I fear, all war-prisons, suddenly and not very tenderly arranged, are hard enough. "'Have you seen Job Forster?' was his first question after greeting her. "She told him what had been done. "'I begged hard to be allowed to share his prison. But they would not let me,' said Roger. "Roger, though far less suffering, looked less tranquil than Job, my Mother said. He did not ask for me until he had read Olive's letter, and then he said abruptly,-- "'Olive says she has written to Mistress Lettice.' And his face flushed deeply as he added, 'Olive is but a child in such things, Lady Lucy, and cannot know the hard laws of war. You will not be offended if she pleads, fancying you could do anything for us. You must not let anything she says trouble you, you are so kind. For I know nothing can be done.' "'Only one thing troubles me,' my Mother said, evasively, 'I would give much if _that_ could be changed.' "She did not think it generous to say more, but he understood, and answered,-- "'_That_ can _not_ be changed, unless all could be changed. It makes me restless enough to be shut up here, Lady Lucy, but it does not make me _doubt_.' "'Those Draytons are like rocks--as firm, and almost as hard. No, not hard. Nothing they ought not to be, if only they were on the right side! "And Roger called Olive a child. I wonder, then, what he thinks me, who am two years younger! "However, my Mother thinks something can be done for Roger. Exchanges can be made. Little comfort in that. He is less dangerous to himself and every one else where he is, than in the field again. Yet my Mother says the air and food of the prison are none of the most wholesome. And, of course, Olive wants to have him free. These are most perplexing times. One cannot even tell what to wish.