His thoughts were fixed upon one place; a great longing drew him forth, into the darkness and the rain of the streets, onwards in a fixed direction.

It brought him to Westminster, and to the gate of Tothill Fields Prison.

The fetters upon the great doors were hideous in the light of the lamps above them; the mean houses around the gaol seemed to be rotting in its accursed shadow.

A deadly stillness possessed the air; there was blight in the dropping of the rain.
He leaned against the great, gloomy wall, and thought of Ida.

At this hour she was most likely asleep, unless sorrow kept her waking.