"God forbid it!" said the priest.
"She is alone in her misery, with none to help and none to pity her," said Jason.
"Where is she?" said the priest.
"At Husavik," said Jason.
"But what is her message to me?"
"That you should allow her husband to come to her."
The old priest lifted his hands in helpless bewilderment, but Jason gave him no time to speak.
"Only for a day," said Jason, quickly, "only for one day, an hour, one little hour. Wait, your reverence, do not say no. Think, only think! The poor woman is alone. Let her sins be what they may, she is penitent. She is calling for her husband. She is calling on you to send him. It is her last request—her last prayer. Grant it, and heaven will bless you."
The poor old priest was cruelly distressed.
"My good lad," he cried, "it is impossible. There is a ship outside to watch us. Twice a day I have to signal with the flag that the prisoner is safe, and twice a day the bell of the vessel answers me. It is impossible, I say, impossible, impossible! It cannot be done. There is no way."