The old man swallowed something in his throat and answered,
"Nothing seems impossible to love, my son."
"But tell her that no good woman can live all her life with a dishonoured man like me."
Again the old parson cleared his throat.
"I know one who has been doing so for forty years, Sir."
Stowell fell back on his chair and dropped his head over his arms on the table. Parson Cowley, unable to bear more, slipped out of the cell and pulled the door behind him.
Fenella and Stowell were then alone. She knew that her last chance had come. She had to conquer him now or lose him for ever. It was the primitive man against the primitive woman, only their age-long positions were reversed, and with all the battery of her womanhood she meant to win him. Stepping closer she said, in a caressing voice,
"Victor, you won't send me away from you, will you?"
"I shall always love you, Fenella," said Stowell, whose head was still down. "I shall love you as an angel."
"But forgive me, dear, I am only a woman, and I want to be loved as a woman first."