For a moment longer the older woman took quiet stock of Molly: the roughly shorn hair, the thin figure that was still very seemly even wrapped in a threadbare shawl which Tilly had intended throwing out, and that hauntingly lovely face with its strong lines and big, expressive eyes. There was something very special about Molly. In spite of everything – the many weeks on the road, the suffering she had been through and the illness that had taken its toll – there was still something at the core of Molly’s being that was strong, determined and most admirable.

While musing to herself and thinking on Molly’s particular character, it came to Tilly how she was reminded of another such creature; one who had been ‘used’ by others and thrown to the wolves, as it were. One who had suffered more than any other woman she had ever known, and yet had risen above it all to emerge even stronger and wiser. That woman was Emma Grady – now Emma Tanner. That one, and this one, known as Molly. They were two of a kind. Like peas out of the same pod!

Tilly Watson’s conscience had long since bothered her where Emma Grady was concerned, for she knew beyond a doubt that it was her own testimony that had helped to convict Emma Grady and consequently get her transported to the far side of the world. And all for shameful greed. For the taking of a cash-box belonging to Emma’s ma-in-law on the night her son was killed – ‘murdered’ by Emma and the woman who was Emma’s only friend. O’ course, it were more of an accident than murder. But at the time, it suited Tilly Watson to claim how she had ‘seen it all!… He were pushed, Your Honour. Murdered right before me eyes!’

The bank notes which Tilly had taken secretly from the tin-box were long ago spent; most of them on furnishing this very house and affording a set of nice clothes for her and her entire brood. Because of them bank notes, the pantry had never been bare. Oh, the money was long gone now, but it had set the Watson family up well enough, and buried the old man in a decent fashion. Now, what with Joe fetching home a good wage, they managed well enough and, compared to other unfortunates, they had few worries.

The only worry that plagued Tilly was her conscience. She was beset by nightmares about having helped to convict a young, innocent creature who had no parents and was cursed with more enemies than friends. Yet it was a long, long time ago. Too many years had fled, and too much water had passed under the bridge for her to make amends.

All the same, it had eased Tilly’s mind when Emma had returned home, a wealthy and influential woman. She might have gone to her there and then and confessed her wickedness. But what good would it have done? It was too late. Emma had endured her ordeal with courage and had done well. Tilly accepted that she too must endure her own particular ordeal of guilt, for it was self-imposed. Apart from which, she had come to believe that it was wiser to keep her own counsel than to foolishly reveal how she had deliberately lied to the courts. Emma’s own uncle was a Justice! You had to be very careful with the likes o’ them, because they’d clap you in jail soon as wink at you! On top of which, that Marlow Tanner adored Emma, and though he was well known as a likeable and fair-minded fellow, there was no doubt he’d be up in arms at how Tilly Watson had put the finger on his Emma. No. It were always wisest to keep your own counsel in such cases.