That was it! He was finding a solid legal ground on which the prisoner could be liberated, and when he had convinced the law officers of the Crown that this was a proper case for the exercise of mercy, he would come up to her and say, "Bessie Collister is free!--the barrier between us is broken down." For a full day after that her heart was at ease. Nay more, she was almost happy, for hidden away in some secret place of semi-consciousness was the thought that the measure of Stowell's efforts for Bessie Collister was the meter of his love for herself. At length her impatience got the better of her tranquillity and she became eager to know what was going on. There was only one person who could tell her that--her father. Coming down to breakfast on the sunny morning after the storm, she saw, among the letters by the Governor's plate, a large envelope superscribed, "_HOME SECRETARY_." When her father had opened it she said, as if casually, "Any news yet about that poor thing in Castle Rushen?" "Yes, there's something here." "Of course she's pardoned?" "On the contrary, her death-sentence has been confirmed." "Confirmed?" "Yes, she's to die, and it only remains for me to fix the date of the execution." The sun went out as before a thunderstorm, and, rising from her unfinished breakfast, Fenella fled from the room. A great wave of pity seemed to sweep down every other feeling. She determined to go to Castle Rushen again and break the news tenderly to the unhappy woman. On her way to the railway station her mind swung back to Stowell. After all he could have done nothing to save the girl's life. It was inconceivable that the authorities in London could have been indifferent to the opinion of the Judge who had tried the case. "No, he can have done nothing--nothing whatever." Then came a shock to her also. As her carriage dipped into the hill going down to the station she saw Stowell coming up from the bridge with rapid strides. Something told her that, having heard the news, he was going to Government House to protest. But what was the good of going now? Useless! Worse than useless! One glance she got of his face before she dropped her own. It was whiter and thinner than before, as if from sleepless nights and suffering. She wanted to stop; she wanted to go on; she did not know what she wanted. At the next moment her coachman, who had seen nothing of Stowell, being occupied with the difficulties of the hill, had swept into the station-yard. When she got out of the carriage her heart was burning with the pangs of mingled love and rage. "If that girl dies in prison there shall never be anything between us--never," she thought. But deep in her heart, almost unknown to herself, there was a still more poignant cry, "He does not care for me--he cannot." CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR THE MAN AND THE LAW