“Then will you do me one last favor?” she appealed.
“Be your fate what it will,” said he, “I am still your slave.”
“Marry Paul and me,” she pleaded, as though upon the answer depended her life or death.
“Dare you ask this of me?”
“I do, and pray you ask me not why.”
“I have not the courage nor the strength,” said he, suddenly, filled up with a great weakness.
“Have I naught to suffer?” she said, in great grief. “Will you compel me to go through it all alone?”
“I’ll do it,” said he. “I cannot enter deeper into the vale of suffering than I am now. You have stolen from me the power of resistance. Now, I pray you, let me go.”
As the preacher passed from her, Paul returned, looking dark and gloomy.