But the cruellest question of all, and the hardest to answer, was whether after all, even now that he was free, he had any right to ask Fenella to become his wife? He, a sin-soiled man, and she a stainless woman! He felt as if he ought to purge his soul by telling Fenella everything. Yet how could he do that without inflicting an incurable wound on her faith in him? And then what had the Governor said? "Never under any circumstances." As he walked up the carriage drive to Government House he saw the Governor's tall figure, and the Attorney-General's short one, through the windows of the smoking-room. The Governor came to the door to meet him. "The very man we were talking about. Come in! Sit down. We have something to propose to you." The Governor was going up to London on urgent business at the Home Office and the Attorney had to go with him. In these circumstances it had been necessary to arrange that the Court of General Gaol Delivery (interrupted by the Deemster's death, but now summoned to resume) should sit without the Governor, and the Attorney had been suggesting that Stowell should represent him in an important case. "What is it, Sir?" asked Stowell. "Murder again, my boy; but of a different kind this time." A Peel fisherman had killed his wife with shocking brutality, yet everybody seemed to sympathise with him, and there was a danger that a Manx jury might let him off. "Splendid opportunity to uphold law and order! You'll take the case?" "With pleasure!" "Good! The Attorney will send you the papers. And now, I suppose, you would like to see Fenella?" "May I?" "Why not? You'll find her in the drawing-room." On his way to the drawing-room Stowell met Miss Green coming out of it. She smiled at him, and said, in a half-whisper, "I think you are expected." When he opened the door he saw Fenella sitting with her back to him at a little desk on one side of the bay window, with a glint of its light on her bronze-brown hair. "Who is it?" she said as he entered. But at the next moment she seemed to know, and, rising, she turned round to him and smiled. He thought she had never looked so beautiful. He wanted to crush her in his arms, and at the same time to fall at her feet and kiss the hem of her dress. There was a moment of passionate silence. He stepped towards her but stopped when two or three paces away. A riot of conflicting emotions were going on within him. He felt strong, he felt weak, he felt brave, he felt cowardly, he felt proud, he felt ashamed. Still nothing was said by either of them. Her eyes were glistening, she was breathing quickly and her bosom was heaving. He saw her moving towards him. Her hand was trailing along the desk. He felt as if she were drawing him to her, and by a nervous, but irresistible impulse he held out his arms. "Fenella," he said, hardly audibly.