"I hate to mention her in this connection—Fenella."
"Fenella? Why, what on earth has Fenella...."
And then Stowell told him.
Having interested herself in this case, Fenella was hunting down the guilty man that he might be exposed and punished—punished by public obloquy if he could not be punished by law.
"If she finds him before the trial how can I possibly sit? Whatever happens it will be coloured by her knowledge of the truth. If the girl is acquitted she will think I have helped her to escape punishment in order to salve my conscience or cover my share in her crime. And if she is condemned what happiness can there be for either of us after that?"
He had spoken with emotion, but the Governor, who had recovered from his surprise, replied impatiently,
"Aren't you crossing the bridge before you come to the river?"
Stowell made no answer, and at the next moment there was the sound of carriage wheels coming up the drive.
"It's Fenella," said the Governor, looking out of the window. "I'll ask you to say nothing to her about the subject of our conversation. And listen" (he was re-lighting his pipe and puffing at it with lips that smacked angrily; Stowell's hand was on the door), "don't let my girl make a damned fool of you."
II