She expected Stowell to come to her as soon as his Court was over. Again and again she raised her head from her wet pillow to listen for the sound of his car on the drive. Yet when a knock came at her door and her maid announced the arrival of the Deemster (never dreaming that the injunction against callers had been intended to apply to him) her first impulse was to send him away. "Say I'm unwell and can't see him," she cried from her bed. But at the next moment she was up and whispering at the door, "Show Mr. Stowell into the library and tell him I shall be down presently." Her voice was hoarse; her face was aflame; her eyes were red from persistent weeping. No water could sponge away those marks of her emotion. Never mind! He should see how he had made her suffer. She would go downstairs and charge him, face to face, with his deceit and hypocrisy, and then--then fling herself into his arms. But when she opened the library door and saw him standing on the hearthrug, with head down and a look of utter abasement, her courage failed her. She dare not look twice at his ravaged face, so she sank on to the sofa and covered her eyes with her hands. Several minutes passed in which neither of them spoke. There was no sound except that of his laboured breathing and of the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. "If he does not speak soon," she thought, "I shall break into tears and fly out of the room." But she did not move, and at last came his voice, humble and broken, and thrilling through and through her: "Fenella!" She did not answer; she could not; and again, after another moment of silence, he said, "Fenella, I have come to ask you to forgive me." She wanted to burst out crying, and to prevent herself from doing so she broke into a flood of wrath. "Forgive you?" she said. "Ask that poor creature in Castle Rushen to forgive you--that poor girl whom you have just condemned for a crime that is the consequence of your own sin." He did not reply for a moment, and then came the same humble, unsteady voice, saying, "No doubt you are quite right, quite justified, but if you knew everything--that I could not help myself--that it was the law...." "Oh, I know nothing about your laws," she cried, leaping up and crossing the room, "but they are unjust and barbarous and against reason and humanity if they allow a girl to be condemned to death for a crime like that while the Judge who was the first cause of it sits in judgment on his own victim." "You are right there too," said Stowell, "but if you knew how I tried to avoid sitting on the case, and only allowed myself to do so at last in the hope of seeing justice done and thereby making some sort of amends.... "Amends!" cried Fenella. "What amends can there be for a wrong like that? Oh, I hate people who think they can make amends for one fault by committing another." There was silence again for a moment and then Stowell said,