And as the senses were unexercised, thought worked on memory till the brain seemed gnawing itself, as a shipwrecked man might assuage his thirst at his own veins.

Then imagination, the magician, lovely in weal but terrible in woe, began to weave his spell, and visions arose of dear loved ones agonising beyond the prison walls, to whom my heart yearned through the dividing space with an intense passion that seemed as though its potency might almost annihilate our barriers.

Alas! hearts yearn in vain.

Nothing avails but strength, and what we cannot achieve the Fates never bestow.

My cell walls stood cold and impassable around me, like sentinels of destiny, too vigilant for evasion and too strong for resistance.