What unimagined horrors did she suffer day after day in that accursed prison-house?
How did she bear her torments?
Was she well or ill?
What brutality might she not be subjected to?
He pictured her face wasted with secret tears, those eyes which were the light of his soul fixed on the walls of the cell, hour after hour, in changeless despair, the fire of passionate resentment feeding at her life's core.
The night became calmer.

The rained ceased, and a sudden gleam made him look up, to behold the moon breaking her way through billows of darkness..