Fast bound in misery and iron.
You in misery and he only in iron.

You two poor children." His strong face worked, and for a moment he shaded it with his hand.
Then he looked keenly at Fay.
"And you have come to me to ask me to advise you how to set Michael and yourself free ?" "Yes," whispered Fay.
"It was time to come." There was a short silence.
"And you understand, my dear, dear child, that you can only rescue Michael by taking heavy blame upon yourself, blame first of all for having a clandestine meeting with him, and then blame for letting him sacrifice himself for your good name, and lastly blame for keeping an innocent man in prison so long." Fay shook like a leaf.
The Bishop took her lifeless hands in his, and held them.

He made her meet his eyes.

Stern, tender, unflinching eyes they were, with a glint of tears in them.
"You are willing to bear the cross, and endure the shame ?" he said.
Two large tears gathered in Fay's wide eyes, and rolled down her bloodless cheeks.
You could not look at her, and think that the poor thing was willing to endure anything, capable of enduring anything.
The Bishop looked at her, through her.
"Or would you rather go home and wait in misery a little longer, and keep him in his cell a little longer: another week--another month--another _year_! You know best how much longer you can wait." Silence.
"And Michael can wait, too." "Michael must come out," said Fay, with a sob.

"He was always good to me." "Thank God," said the Bishop, and he rose abruptly and went to the window.
Magdalen and Fay did not move.