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diff --git a/old/61865-0.txt b/old/61865-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5052f77..0000000 --- a/old/61865-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,25130 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Master of Man, by Hall Caine - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Master of Man - The Story of a Sin - -Author: Hall Caine - -Release Date: April 18, 2020 [eBook #61865] -[Most recently updated: April 13, 2021] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASTER OF MAN *** - - - - - _The Novels of Hall Caine_ - - THE SHADOW OF A CRIME - A SON OF HAGAR - THE DEEMSTER - THE BONDMAN - THE SCAPEGOAT - THE MANXMAN - THE CHRISTIAN - THE ETERNAL CITY - THE WHITE PROPHET - THE PRODIGAL SON - THE WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME - THE MASTER OF MAN - - - - - The Master of Man - - The Story of a Sin - - - - By - - Hall Caine - - - - "_Be sure your sin will find you out_" - - - - Philadelphia & London - J. B. Lippincott Company - 1921 - - - - - The Master of Man - _is published also in_ - ENGLAND - CANADA - AUSTRALIA - FRANCE - DENMARK - HOLLAND - SWEDEN - FINLAND - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1920, 1921, BY SIR HALL CAINE, K.B.E. - - - - _Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company - The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U.S.A._ - - - - - CONTENTS - - - FIRST BOOK - - THE SIN - - 1. The Breed of the Ballamoar - 2. The Boyhood of Victor Stowell - 3. Father and Sons - 4. Enter Fenella Stanley - 5. The Student-at-Law - 6. The World of Woman - 7. The Day of Temptation - 8. The Call of Bessie Collister - 9. The Master of Man - 10. The Call of the Ballamoars - - - SECOND BOOK - - THE RECKONING - - 11. The Return of Fenella - 12. The Death of the Deemster - 13. The Saving of Kate Kinrade - 14. The Everlasting Song of the Sea - 15. The Woman's Secret - 16. At the Speaker's - 17. The Burning Boat - 18. The Great Winter - - - THIRD BOOK - - THE CONSEQUENCE - - 19. The Eve of Mary - 20. Victor Stowell's Vow - 21. Mother's Law or Judge's Law? - 22. The Soul of Hagar - 23. Stowell in London - 24. Alick Gell - 25. The Deemster's Oath - - - FOURTH BOOK - - THE RETRIBUTION - - 26. The Wind and the Whirlwind - 27. The Judge and the Man - 28. The Trial - 29. The Two Women--The Two Men - 30. The Verdict - - - FIFTH BOOK - - THE REPARATION - - 31. "Victor! Victor! My Victor!" - 32. The Voice of the Sea - 33. The Heart of a Woman - 34. The Man and the Law - 35. "And God Made Man of the Dust of the Ground" - 36. Out of the Depths - 37. The Escape - 38. The Grave of a Sin - - - SIXTH BOOK - - THE REDEMPTION - - 39. The Birth of a Lie - 40. The Call of a Woman's Soul - 41. In the Valley of the Shadow - 42. "He Drove Out the Man" - 43. The Dawn of Morning - 44. "God Gave Him Dominion" - - - SEVENTH BOOK - - THE RESURRECTION - - 45. The Way of the Cross - 46. Victory Through Defeat - 47. The Resurrection - - - CONCLUSION - - - - -_AUTHOR'S NOTE_ - -_I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to conversations, many years -ago, with the late Karl Emil Franzos for important incidents in -Chapter Forty-Four, which, founded on fact, were in part incorporated -by the Russo-Jewish writer in his noble book, "The Chief Justice."_ - -_Also I wish to say that Tolstoy told me, through his daughter, that -similar incidents occurring in Russia (although he altered them -materially) had suggested the theme of his great novel, -"Resurrection."_ - -_For as much knowledge as I may have been able to acquire of Manx law -and legal procedure, I am indebted to Mr. Ramsey B. Moore, the -Attorney-General in the Isle of Man, the scene of my story._ - -_H. C._ - - _Greeba Castle, - Isle of Man._ - - - - -The Master of Man - - -_FIRST BOOK_ - - -THE SIN - - -CHAPTER ONE - -THE BREED OF THE BALLAMOAR - -We were in full school after breakfast, when the Principal came from -his private room with his high, quick, birdlike step and almost leapt -up to his desk to speak to us. He was a rather small, slight man, of -middle age, with pale face and nervous gestures, liable to alternate -bouts of a somewhat ineffectual playfulness and gusts of ungovernable -temper. It was easy to see that he was in his angry mood that -morning. He looked round the school for a moment over the silver -rims of his spectacles, and then said, - -"Boys, before you go to your classes for the day I have something to -tell you. One of you has brought disgrace upon King William's, and I -must know which of you it is." - -Then followed the "degrading story." The facts of it had just been -brought to his notice by the Inspector of Police for Castletown. He -had no intention of entering into details. They were too shameful. -Briefly, one of our boys, a senior boy apparently, had lately made a -practice of escaping from his house after hours, and had so far -forfeited his self-respect as to go walking in the dark roads with a -young girl--a servant girl, he was ashamed to say, from the home of -the High Bailiff. He had been seen repeatedly, and although not -identified, he had been recognised by his cap as belonging to the -College. Last night two young townsmen had set out to waylay him. -There had been a fight, in which our boy had apparently used a -weapon, probably a stick. The result was that one of the young -townsmen was now in hospital, still insensible, the other was -seriously injured about the face. Probably a pair of young -blackguards who had intervened from base motives of their own and -therefore deserved no pity. But none the less the conduct of the -King William's boy had been disgraceful. It must be punished, no -matter who he was, or how high he might stand in the school. - -"I tell you plainly, boys, I don't know who he is. Neither do the -police--the townsmen never having heard his name and the girl -refusing to speak." - -But he had a suspicion--a very strong suspicion, based upon an -unmistakable fact. He might have called the boy he suspected to his -room and dealt with him privately. But a matter like this, known to -the public authorities and affecting the honour and welfare of the -college, was not to be hushed up. In fact the police had made it a -condition of their foregoing proceedings in the Courts that an open -inquiry should be made here. He had undertaken to make it, and he -must make it now. - -"Therefore, I give the boy who has been guilty of this degrading -conduct the opportunity of voluntary confession--of revealing himself -to the whole school, and asking pardon of his Principal, his masters -and his fellow-pupils for the disgrace he has brought on them. Who -is it?" - -None of us stirred, spoke or made sign. The Principal was rapidly -losing his temper. - -"Boys," he said, "there is something I have not told you. According -to the police the disgraceful incident occurred between nine and -nine-thirty last night, and it is known to the house-master of one of -your houses that one boy, and one only, who had been out without -permission, came in after that hour. I now give that boy another -chance. Who is he?" - -Still no one spoke or stirred. The Principal bit his lip, and again -looked down the line of our desks over the upper rims of his -spectacles. - -"Does nobody speak? Must I call a name? Is it possible that any -King William's boy can ask for the double shame of being guilty and -being found out?" - -Even yet there was no sign from the boys, and no sound except their -audible breathing through the nose. - -"Very well. So be it. I've given that boy his chance. Now he must -take the consequences." - -With that the Principal stepped down from his desk, turned his -blazing eyes towards the desks of the fifth form and said, - -"Stowell, step forward." - -We gasped. Stowell was the head boy of the school and an immense and -universal favourite. Through the mists of years some of us can see -him still, as he heaved up from his seat that morning and walked -slowly across the open floor in front to where the Principal was -standing. A big, well-grown boy, narrowly bordering on eighteen, -dark-haired, with broad forehead, large dark eyes, fine features, -and, even in those boyish days, a singular air of distinction. There -was no surprise in his face, and not a particle of shame, but there -was a look of defiance which raised to boiling point the Principal's -simmering anger. - -"Stowell," he said, "you will not deny that you were out after hours -last night?" - -"No, Sir." - -"Then it was you who were guilty of this disgraceful conduct?" - -Stowell seemed to be about to speak, and then with a proud look to -check himself, and to close his mouth as with a snap. - -"It was you, wasn't it?" - -Stowell straightened himself up and answered, "So you say, Sir." - -"_I_ say? Speak for yourself. You've a tongue in your head, haven't -you?" - -"Perhaps I have, Sir." - -"Then it _was_ you?" - -Stowell made no answer. - -"Why don't you answer me? Answer, Sir! It _was_ you," said the -Principal. - -And then Stowell, with a little toss of the head and a slight curl of -the lip, replied, - -"If _you_ say it was, what is the use of _my_ saying anything, Sir?" - -The last remnant of the Principal's patience left him. His eyes -flamed and his nostrils quivered. A cane, seldom used, was lying -along the ledge of his desk. He turned to it, snatched it up, and -brought it down in two or three rapid sweeps on Stowell's back, and -(as afterwards appeared) his bare neck also. - -It was all over in a flash. We gasped again. There was a moment of -breathless silence. All eyes were on Stowell. He was face to face -with the Principal, standing, in his larger proportions, a good two -inches above him, ghastly white and trembling with passion. For a -moment we thought anything might happen. Then Stowell appeared to -recover his self-control. He made another little toss of the head, -another curl of the lip and a shrug of the shoulders. - -"Now go back to your study, Sir," said the Principal, between gusts -of breath, "and stay there until you are told to leave it." - -Stowell was in no hurry, but he turned after a moment and walked out, -with a strong step, almost a haughty one. - -"Boys, go to your classes," said the Principal, in a hoarse voice, -and then he went out, too, but more hurriedly. - -Something had gone wrong, wretchedly wrong, we scarcely knew -what--that was our confused impression as we trooped off to the -class-rooms, a dejected lot of lads, half furious, half afraid. - - - -II - -At seven o'clock that night Stowell was still confined to his study, -a little, bare room, containing an iron bedstead, a deal washstand, a -table, one chair, a trunk, some books on a hanging bookshelf, and a -small rug before an iron fender. It was November and the day had -been cold. Jamieson (the Principal's valet) had smuggled up some -coal and lit a little fire for him. Mrs. Gale (the Principal's -housekeeper), bringing his curtailed luncheon, had seen the long red -wheal which the cane had left across the back of his neck, and -insisted on cooling it with some lotion and bandaging it with linen. -He was sitting alone in the half-darkness of his little room, -crouching over the fire, gloomy, morose, fierce and with a burning -sense of outraged justice. The door opened and another boy came into -the room. It was Alick Gell, his special chum, a lad of his own age, -but fair-haired, blue-eyed, and with rather feminine features. In a -thick voice that was like a sob half-choked in his throat, he said, - -"Vic, I can't stand this any longer." - -"Oh, it's you, is it? I thought you'd come." - -"Of course you didn't do that disgraceful thing, as they call it, but -you've got to know who did. It was I." - -Stowell did not answer. He had neither turned nor looked up, and -Gell, standing behind him, tugged at his shoulders and said again, - -"Don't you hear me? It was I." - -"I know." - -"You know? How do you know? When did you know? Did you know this -morning?" - -"I knew last night." - -Going into town he had seen Gell on the opposite side of the road. -Yes, it was true enough he was out after hours. The Principal -himself had sent him! Early in the day he had told him that after -"prep" he was to go to the station for something. - -"Good Lord! Then he must have forgotten all about it!" - -"He had no business to forget." - -"Why didn't you tell him?" - -"Not I--not likely!" - -"But being out after hours wasn't anything. It wasn't knocking those -blackguards about. Why didn't you deny that anyway?" - -"Oh, shut up, Alick." - -Again Gell tugged at his shoulders and said, - -"But why didn't you?" - -"If you must know, I'll tell you--because they would have had you for -it next." - -Mrs. Gale had found the big window of the lavatory open at a -quarter-past nine, and when she sent Jamieson down he saw Gell -closing it. - -"Do you mean that.... that to save me, you allowed yourself to...." - -"Shut up, I tell you!" - -There was silence for a moment and then Gell began to cry openly, and -to pour out a torrent of self-reproaches. He was a coward; a -wretched, miserable, contemptible coward--that's what he was and he -had always known it. He would never forgive himself--never! But -perhaps he had not been thinking of saving his own skin only. - -"That was little Bessie Collister." - -"I know." - -If he had stood up to the confounded thing and confessed, and given -her away, after she had been plucky and refused to speak, and his -father had heard of it.... _her_ father also.... her stepfather.... - -"Dan Baldromma, you know what he is, Vic?" - -"Oh, yes, there would have been the devil to pay all round." - -"Wouldn't there?" - -"The College, too! Dan would have had something to say to old -Peacock (nickname for the Principal) on that subject also." - -Yes, that was what Gell had thought, and it was the reason (one of -the reasons) why he had stood silent when the Principal challenged -them. Nobody knew anything except the girl. The Police didn't know; -the Principal didn't know. If he kept quiet the inquiry would end in -nothing and there would be no harm done to anybody--except the town -ruffians, and they deserved all they got. How was he to guess that -somebody else was out after hours, and that to save him from being -exposed, perhaps expelled, his own chum, like the brick he was and -always had been.... - -"Hold your tongue, you fool!" - -Gell made for the door. "Look here," he said, "I'm going to tell the -Principal that if you were out last night it was on an errand for -him--that can't hurt anybody." - -"No, you're not." - -"Yes, I am--certainly I am." - -"If you do, I'll never speak to you again--on my soul, never." - -"But he's certain to remember it sooner or later." - -"Let him." - -"And when he does, what's he to think of himself?" - -"That's his affair, isn't it? Leave him alone." - -Gell's voice rose to a cry. "No, I will not leave him alone. And -since you won't let me say that about you, I'll tell him about -myself. Yes, I will, and nobody shall prevent me! I don't care what -happens about father, or anybody else, now. I can't stand this any -longer. I can't and I won't." - -"Alick! Alick Gell! Old fellow...." - -But the door had been slammed to and Gell was gone. - - - -III - -The Principal was in his Library, a well-carpeted room, warmed by a -large fire and lighted by a red-shaded lamp. His half-yearly -examination had just finished and his desk was piled high with -examination papers, but he could not settle himself to his work on -them. He was harking back to the event of the morning, and was not -too pleased with himself. He had lost his temper again; he had -inflicted a degrading punishment on a senior boy, and to protect the -good name of the school he had allowed himself to be intimidated by -the police into a foolish and ineffectual public inquiry. - -"Wretched! Wretched! Wretched!" he thought, rising for the -twentieth time from his chair before the fire and pacing the room in -a disorder. - -He thought of Stowell with a riot of mingled anger and affection. He -had always liked that boy---a fine lad, with good heart and brain in -spite of obvious limitations. He had shown the boy some indulgence, -too, and this was how he had repaid him! Defying him in the face of -the whole school! Provoking him with his prevarication, the proud -curl of his lip and his damnable iteration: "If _you_ say so, -Sir...." It had been maddening. Any master in the world might have -lost his temper. - -Of course the boy was guilty! But then he was no sneak or coward. -Good gracious, no, that was the last thing anybody would say about -him. Quite the contrary! Only too apt to take the blame of bad -things on himself when he might make others equally responsible. -That was one reason the under-masters liked him and the boys -worshipped him. Then why, in the name of goodness, hadn't he spoken -out, made some defence, given some explanation? After all the first -offence was nothing worse than being out after hours for a little -foolish sweethearting. The Principal saw Stowell making a clean -breast of everything, and himself administering a severe admonition -and then fighting it all out with the police for school and scholar. -But that was impossible now--quite impossible! - -"Wretched! Wretched! Wretched!" - -He thought of the boy's father--the senior judge or Deemster of the -island, and easily the first man in it. One of the trustees of the -college also, to whom serious matters were always mentioned. This -had become a serious matter. Even if nothing worse happened to that -young blackguard in the hospital the police might insist on -expulsion. If so, what would be the absolute evidence against the -boy? Only that he had been out of school when the disgraceful -incident had happened! The Deemster, who was cool and clear-headed, -might say the boy could have been out on some other errand. Or -perhaps that some other boy might have been out at the same time. - -But that couldn't be! Good heavens, no! Stowell wasn't a fool. If -he had been innocent, why on earth should he have taken his degrading -punishment lying down? No, no, he had been guilty enough. He had -admitted that he was out after hours, and, having nothing else to say -even about that (why or by whose permission), he had tried to carry -the whole thing off with a sort of silent braggadocio. - -"Wretched! Wretched! Wretched!" - -The Principal had at length settled himself at his desk, and was -taking up some of the examination papers, when he uncovered a small -white packet. Obviously a chemist's packet, sealed with red wax and -tied with blue string. Not having seen it before he picked it up, -and looked at it. It was addressed to himself, and was marked "By -Passenger Train--to be called for." - -The Principal felt his thin hair rising from his scalp. Something he -had forgotten had come back upon him with the force and suddenness of -a blow. Off and on for a week he had suffered from nervous -headaches. Somebody had recommended an American patent medicine and -he had written to Douglas for it. The Douglas chemist had replied -that it was coming by the afternoon steamer, and he would send it on -to Castletown by the last train. The letter had arrived when he was -in class, and Jamieson the valet, being out of reach, he had asked -Stowell, who was at hand, to go to the Station for the parcel after -preparation and leave it on his Library table. And then the headache -had passed off, and in the pressure of the examination he had -forgotten the whole matter! - -The Principal got up again. His limbs felt rigid, and he had the -sickening sensation of his body shrinking into insignificance. At -that moment there came a knocking at his door. He could not answer -at first and the knocking was repeated. - -"Come in then," he said, and Gell entered, his face flooded with -tears. - -He knew the boy as one who was nearly always in trouble, and his -first impulse was to drive him out. - -"Why do you come here? Go to your house-master, or to your head, -or...." - -"It's about Stowell himself, Sir. He's innocent," said Gell. - -"Innocent?" - -"Yes, Sir--it was I," said Gell. And then came a flood of words, -blurted out like water from an inverted bottle. It was true that he -was with the girl last night, but it was a lie that he had made a -practice of walking out with her. She came from the north of the -island, a farm near his home, and he hadn't known she was living in -Castletown until he met her in the town yesterday afternoon. They -were on the Darby Haven Road, just beyond the college cricket ground, -about nine o'clock, when the blackguards dropped out on them from the -Hango Hill ruins and started to rag him. It was true he smashed them -and he would do it again, and worse next time, but it was another lie -that he had done it with a stick. _They_ had the stick, and it was -just when he was knocking out one of them that the other aimed a blow -at him which fell on his chum instead and tumbled him over -insensible. The girl had gone off screaming before that, and seeing -the police coming up he had leapt into the cricket ground and got -back into school by the lavatory window. - -"But why, boy .... why .... why didn't you say all this in school -this morning?" - -"I was afraid, Sir," said Gell, and then came the explanation he had -given to Stowell. He had been afraid his father would get to know, -and the girl's father, too--that was to say her step-father. Her -step-father was a tenant of his own father's; they were always at -cross purposes, and he had thought if the girl got into any trouble -at the High Bailiff's and it came out that he had been the cause of -it, her step-father.... - -"Who is he? What's his name?" - -"Dan Collister--but they call him Baldromma after the farm, Sir." - -"That wind-bag and agitator who is always in the newspapers?" - -"Yes, Sir." - -"But, good heavens, boy, don't you see what you've done for -me?--allowed me to punish an innocent person?" - -"Yes, I know," said Gell, and then, through another gust of sobs, -came further explanations. It had all been over before he had had -time to think. The Principal had said that nobody knew, and he had -thought he had only to hold his tongue and nothing would be found -out. But if he had known that Stowell knew, and that he had been out -himself.... - -"And did he know?" - -"Yes, Sir. He saw me with Bessie Collister as he was going to the -station and he thought he couldn't get out of this himself without -letting me in for it." - -"Do you mean to tell me that he took that punishment to .... to save -you from being discovered?" - -Gell hesitated for a moment, then choked down his sobs, and said with -a defiant cry: - -"Yes, he did--to save me, and the school, and .... and you, too, Sir." - -The Principal staggered back a step, and then said: "Leave me, boy, -leave me." - -He did not go to bed that night, or to school next day, or the day -after, or the day after that. On the fourth day he wrote a long -letter to the Deemster, telling him with absolute truthfulness what -had happened, and concluding: - -"That is all, your Honour, but to me it is everything. I have not -only punished an innocent boy, but one who, in taking his punishment, -was doing an act of divine unselfishness. I am humiliated in my own -eyes. I feel like a little man in the presence of your son. I can -never look into his face again. - -"My first impulse was to resign my post, but on second thoughts I -have determined to leave the issue to your decision. If I am to -remain as head of your school you must take your boy away. If he is -to stay I must go. Which is it to be?" - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -THE BOYHOOD OF VICTOR STOWELL - -Deemster Stowell was the only surviving member of an old Manx family. -They had lived for years beyond memory at Ballamoar (the Great Place) -an estate of nearly a thousand acres on the seaward angle of the -Curragh lands which lie along the north-west of the island. The -fishermen say the great gulf-stream which sweeps across the Atlantic -strikes the Manx coast at that elbow. Hence the tropical plants -which grow in the open at Ballamoar, and also the clouds of -snow-white mist which too often hang over it, hiding the house, and -the lands around, and making the tower of Jurby Church on the edge of -the cliff look like a lighthouse far out at sea. - -The mansion house, in the Deemster's day, was a ramshackle old place -which bore signs of having been altered and added to by many -generations of his family. It stood back to the sea and facing a -broad and undulating lawn, which was bordered by lofty elms that were -inhabited by undisturbed colonies of rooks. From a terrace behind, -opening out of the dining-room, there was a far view on clear days of -the Mull of Galloway to the north, and of the Morne Mountains to the -west. People used to say-- - -"The Stowells have caught a smatch of the Irish and the Scotch in -their Manx blood." - -The Deemster was sixty years of age at that time. A large, spare man -with an almost Jovian white head, clean-shaven face, powerful yet -melancholy eyes, bold yet sensitive features and long yet delicate -hands--a strong, silent, dignified, rather solemn personality. - -He was a man of the highest integrity. Occupying an office too often -associated, in his time, with various forms of corruption, the breath -of scandal never touched him. He was a legislator, as well as a -Judge, being _ex officio_ a member of the little Manx Parliament, but -in his double capacity (so liable to abuse) nobody with a doubtful -scheme would have dared to approach him. - -"What does the old Deemster say?"--the answer to that question often -settled a dispute, for nobody thought of appealing against his -judgment. - -"Justice is the strongest and most sacred thing on earth"--that was -his motto, and he lived up to it. - -His private life had been saddened by a great sorrow. He married, -rather late in life, a young Englishwoman, out of Cumberland--a -gentle creature with a kind of moonlight beauty. She died four or -five years afterwards and the Manx people knew little about her. To -the last they called her the "Stranger." - -The Deemster bore his loss in characteristic silence. Nobody -intruded on his sorrow, or even entered his house, but on the day of -the funeral half "the north" lined the long grass-grown road from the -back gates of Ballamoar to the little wind-swept churchyard over -against the sea. He thanked none of them and saluted none, but his -head was low as his coach passed through. - -Next day he took his Court as usual, and from that day onward nobody -saw any difference in him. But long afterwards, Janet Curphey, the -lady housekeeper at Ballamoar, was heard to say in the village -post-office, which was also the grocer's shop, that every morning -after breakfast the Deemster had put a vase of fresh-cut flowers on -the writing-desk in his library under his young wife's portrait, -until it was now a white-haired man who was making his daily offering -to the picture of a young woman. - -"Aw, yes, Mrs. Clucas, yes! And what did it matter to the woman to -be a stranger when she was loved like that?" - -The "Stranger" had left a child, and this had been at once the -tragedy and the triumph of her existence. Although an ancient family -of exceptional longevity the Stowells had carried on their race by a -very thin line. One child, rarely two, never three, and only one son -at any time--that had been all that had stood from generation to -generation between the family name and extinction. After three years -of childlessness the Deemster's wife had realised the peril, and, for -her husband's sake, begun to pray for a son. With all her soul she -prayed for him. The fervour of her prayers made her a devoutly -religious woman. When her hope looked like a certainty her joy was -that of an angel rejoicing in the goodness and greatness and glory of -God. But by that time the sword had almost worn out its scabbard. -She had fought a great fight and under the fire of her spirit her -body had begun to fail. - -The Deemster had sent for famous physicians and some of them had -shaken their heads. - -"She may get through it; but we must take care, your Honour, we must -take care." - -Beneath his calm exterior the Deemster had been torn by the red -strife of conflicting hopes, but his wife had only had one desire. -When her dread hour came she met it with a shining face. Her son was -born and he was to live, but she was dying. At the last moment she -asked for her husband, and drew his head down to her. - -"Call him Victor," she said--she had conquered. - - - -II - -It was then that the lady housekeeper took service at Ballamoar. -Janet Curphey was the last relic of a decayed Manx family that had -fallen on evil times, and having lost all she had come for life. She -quickly developed an almost slave-like devotion to the Deemster -(during her first twenty years she would never allow anybody else to -wait on him at table) as well as a motherly love for his motherless -little one. The child called her his mother, nobody corrected him, -and for years he knew nothing to the contrary. - -He grew to be a braw and bright little man, and was idolized by -everybody. Having no relations of his own, except "mother," and the -Deemster, he annexed everybody else's. Bobbie, the young son of the -Ballamoar farmer (there was a farm between the mansion-house and the -sea) called his father "Dad," so Robbie Creer was "Dad" to Victor -too. The old widow in the village who kept the post-office-grocer's -shop was "Auntie Kitty" to her orphan niece, Alice, so she was -"Auntie Kitty" to Victor also. - -"Everybody loves that child," said Janet. It was true. As far back -as that, under God knows what guidance, he was laying his anchor deep -for the days of storm and tempest. - -During his earlier years he saw little of his father, but every -evening after his bath he was taken into the Library to bid -Good-night to him, and then the Deemster would lift him up to the -picture to bid Good-night to his mother also. - -"You must love and worship her all your life, darling. I'll tell you -why, some day." - -He was a born gipsy, often being lost in the broad plantations about -the house, and then turning up with astonishing stories of the -distances he had travelled. - -"I didn't went no farther nor Ramsey to-day, mother"--seven miles as -the crow flies. - -He was born a poet too, and after the Deemster had made a "Limerick" -on his Christian name, he learnt to rhyme to the same measure, making -quatrains almost as rapidly as he could speak, though often with -strange words of his own compounding. Thus he celebrated his pet -lamb, his kid, his rabbits, the rooks on the lawn, and particularly a -naughty young pony his father had given him, who "lived in the fiel'" -and whom he "wanted to go to Peel," but whenever he went out to fetch -her she "always kicked up her heel." Janet thought this marvellous, -miraculous. It was a gift! The little prophet Samuel might have -been more saintly but he couldn't have been more wonderful. - -Janet was not the only one to be impressed. It is known now that day -by day the Deemster copied the boy's rhymes, with much similar -matter, into a leather-bound book which he had labelled strangely -enough, "Isabel's Diary." He kept this secret volume under lock and -key, and it was never seen by anyone else until years afterwards, -when, in a tragic hour, the childish jingles in the Judge's sober -handwriting, under the eyes that looked at them, burnt like flame and -cut like a knife. - -It was remarked by Janet that the Deemster's affection for the child -grew greater, while the expression of it became less as the years -went on. "Is the boy up yet?" would be the first word he would say -when she took his early tea to him in the morning; and if a long day -in the Courts kept him from home until after the child had been put -to bed, he would never sit down until he had gone upstairs to look at -the little one in his cot. - -In common with other imaginative children brought up alone the boy -invented a playmate, but contrary to custom his invisible comrade was -of the opposite sex, not that of the little dreamer. He called her -"Sadie," nobody knew why, or how he had come by the name, for it was -quite unknown in the island. "Sadie" lived with her mother, "Mrs. -Corlett," in the lodge of Ballamoar, which had been empty and shut up -since "the Stranger" died, when the coachman, who had occupied it, -was no longer needed. On returning from some of his runaway jaunts -the boy accounted for his absence by saying he had been down to the -gate to see "Sadie." He filled the empty house with an entire scheme -of domestic economy, and could tell you all that happened there. - -"Sadie was peeling the potatoes this morning and Mrs. Corlett was -washing up, mamma." - -His pony's name was Molly and by six years of age he had learnt to -ride her with such ease and confidence that to see them cantering up -the drive was to think that boy and pony must be a single creature. -Molly developed a foal, called Derry, which always wanted to be -trotting after its mother. That suited the boy perfectly. Derry had -to carry "Sadie"--a rare device which enabled his invisible comrade -to be nearly always with him. - -But at length came a dire event which destroyed "Sadie." The master -of Ballamoar was rising seven when a distant relative of the Derby -family (formerly the Lords of Man) was appointed Lieutenant-Governor -of the island. This was Sir John Stanley, an ex-Indian officer--a -man in middle life, not brilliant, but the incarnation of -commonsense, essentially a product of his time, firm of will, -conservative in opinions, impatient of all forms of romantic -sentiment, but kindly, genial and capable of constant friendship. - -The Deemster and the new Governor, though their qualities had points -of difference, became good friends instantly. They met first at the -swearing-in at Castle Rushen where, as senior Judge of the island, -the Deemster administered the oath. But their friendship was sealed -by an experience in common--the Governor having also lost a beloved -wife, who had died in childbirth, leaving him with an only child. -This was a girl called Fenella, a year and a half younger than -Victor, a beautiful little fairy, but a little woman, too, with a -will of her own also. - -The children came together at Ballamoar, the Governor having brought -his little daughter, with her French governess, on his first call. -There was the usual ceremonious meeting of the little people, the -usual eyeing of each other from afar, the usual shy aloofness. Then -came swift comradeship, gurgling laughter, a frantic romping round -the rooms, and out on to the lawn, and then--a wild quarrel, with -shrill voices in fierce dispute. The two fathers rose from their -seats in the Library and looked out of the windows. The girl was -running towards the house with screams of terror, and the boy was -stoning her off the premises. - -"You mustn't think as this is your house, 'cause it isn't." - -Janet made peace between them, and the children kissed at parting, -but going home in the carriage Fenella confided to the French -governess her fixed resolve to "marry to a girl," not a boy, when her -time came to take a husband. - -The effect on Victor was of another kind but no less serious. It was -remarked that the visit of little Fenella Stanley had in some -mysterious way banished his invisible playmate. Sadie was -dead--stone dead and buried. No more was ever heard of her, and Mrs. -Corlett's cottage returned to its former condition as a closed-up -gate-lodge. When Derry trotted by Molly's side there was apparently -somebody else astride of her now. But--strange whispering of -sex--whoever she was the boy never helped her to mount, and when she -dismounted he always looked another way. - - - -III - -Four years passed, and boy and girl met again. This time it was at -Government House and the boot was on the other leg. Fenella, a tall -girl for her age, well-grown, spirited, a little spoiled, was playing -tennis with the three young Gell girls--daughters of a Manx family of -some pretensions. When Victor, in his straw hat and Eton jacket, -appeared in the tennis court (having driven over with his father and -been sent out to the girls by the Governor) the French governess told -Fenella to let him join in the game. She did so, taking a racquet -from one of the Gell girls and giving it to the boy. But though -Victor, who was now at the Ramsey Grammar School, could play cricket -and football with any boy of his age on the island, he knew nothing -about tennis, and again and again, in spite of repeated protests, -sent the balls flying out of the court. - -The Gells tittered and sniffed, and at length Fenella, calling him a -booby, snatched the racquet out of his hand and gave it back to the -girl. At this humiliation his eyes flashed and his cheeks coloured, -and after a moment he marched moodily back to the open window of the -drawing-room. There the Governor and the Deemster were sitting, and -the Governor said, - -"Helloa! What's amiss? Why aren't you playing with the girls?" - -"Because I'm not," said the boy. - -"Victor!" said the Deemster, but the boy's eyes had began to fill, so -the matter ended. - -There was a show of peace when the girls came in to tea, but on -returning to Ballamoar the boy communicated to Janet in "open Court" -his settled conviction that "girls were no good anyway." - -Boy and girl did not meet again for yet another four years and then -the boot had changed its leg once more. By that time Victor had made -his boy-friendship. It was with Alick Gell, brother of the three -Gell girls and only son of Archibald Gell, a big man in Manxland, -Speaker of the House of Keys, the representative branch of the little -Manx Parliament. Archibald Gell's lands, which were considerable, -made boundary with the Deemster's, and his mansion house was the next -on the Ramsey Road, but his principal activities were those of a -speculative builder. In this capacity he had put up vast numbers of -boarding-houses all over the island to meet the needs of the visiting -industry, borrowing from English Insurance Companies enormous sums on -mortgage, which could only be repaid by the thrift and forethought of -a second generation. - -Alick knew what was expected of him, but down to date he had shown no -promise of capacity to fulfil his destiny. He had less of his -father's fiery energy than of the comfortable contentment of his -mother, who came of a line of Manx parsons, always shockingly -ill-paid, generally thriftless and sometimes threadbare. Yet he was -a lovable boy, not too bright of brain but with a heart of gold and a -genuine gift of friendship. - -At the Ramsey Grammar School he had attached himself to Victor, -fetching and carrying for him, and looking up to him with worshipful -devotion. Now they were together at King William's College, the -public school of the island, fine lads both, but neither of them -doing much good there. - -It was the morning of the annual prize day at the end of the summer -term. The Governor had come to present the prizes, and he was -surrounded by all the officials of Man, except the Deemster, who -rarely attended such functions. The boys were on platforms on either -side of the hall, and the parents were in the body of it, with the -wives and sisters of the big people in the front row, and Fenella, -the Governor's daughter, now a tall girl in white, with her French -governess, in the midst of them. - -At this ceremony Gell played no part, and even Stowell did not shine. -One boy after another went down to a tumult of hand-clapping and -climbed back with books piled up to his chin. When Stowell's turn -came, the Principal, who had been calling out the names of the -prize-winners, and making little speeches in their praise, tried to -improve the occasion with a moral homily. - -"Now here," he said, making one of his bird-like steps forward, "is a -boy of extraordinary talents--quite extraordinary. Yet he has only -one prize to receive. Why? Want of application! If boys of such -great natural gifts .... yes, I might almost say genius, would only -apply themselves, there is nothing whatever, at school or in after -life...." - -P'shew! During this astonishing speech Stowell was already on the -platform, only a pace back from the Principal, in full view of -everybody, with face aflame and a burning sense of injustice. And, -although, when the interlude was over, and he stepped forward to -receive his Horace (he had won the prize for Classics) the Governor -rose and shook hands with him and said he was sure the son of his old -friend, the Deemster, would justify himself yet, and make his father -proud of him, he was perfectly certain that Fenella Stanley's eyes -were on him and she was thinking him a "booby." - -But his revenge came later. In the afternoon he captained in the -cricket match, with fifteen of the junior house against the school -eleven. Things went badly for the big fellows from the moment he -took his place at the wicket, so they put on their best and fastest -bowlers. But he scored all round the wicket for nearly an hour, -driving the ball three times over the roof of the school chapel and -twice into the ruins beyond the Darby-Haven road, and carrying his -bat for more than sixty runs. Then, as he came in, the little -fellows who had been frantic, and Gell, who had been turning -cart-wheels in delirious excitement, and the big fellows, who had -been beaten, stood up together and cheered him lustily. - -But at that moment he wasn't thinking about any of them. He -knew--although, of course, he did not look--that in the middle of the -people in the pavilion, who were all on their feet and waving their -handkerchiefs, there was Fenella Stanley, with glistening eyes and -cheeks aglow. Perhaps she thought he would salute her now, or even -stop and speak. But no, not likely! He doffed his cap to the -Governor as he ran past, but took no more notice of the Governor's -winsome daughter than if she had been a crow. - - - -IV - -After that--nothing! Neither of the boys distinguished himself at -college. This was a matter of no surprise to the masters in Gell's -case, but in Stowell's it was a perpetual problem. Their favourite -solution was that the David-and-Jonathan friendship between two boys -of widely differing capacity was at the root of the trouble--Gell -being slow and Stowell unwilling to shame him. - -As year followed year without tangible results the rumour came home -to Ballamoar that the son of the Deemster was not fulfilling -expectations. "_Traa de liooar_" (time enough) said Robbie Creer of -the farm; but Dan Baldromma, of the mill-farm in the glen, who prided -himself on being no respecter of persons, and made speeches in the -market-place denouncing the "aristocraks" of the island, and -predicting the downfall of the old order, was heard to say he wasn't -sorry. - -"If these young cubs of the Spaker and the Dempster," said Dan, -"hadn't been born with the silver spoon in their mouths we should be -hearing another story. When the young birds get their wings push -them out of the nest, I say. It's what I done with my own -daughter--my wife's, I mane. Immajetly she was fifteen I packed her -off to sarvice at the High Bailiff's at Castletown, and now she may -shift for herself for me." - -The effect on the two fathers was hardly less conflicting. The -Speaker stormed at his son, called him a "poop" (Anglo-Manx for -numskull), wondered why he had troubled to bring a lad into the world -who would only scatter his substance, and talked about making a new -will to protect his daughters and to save the real estate which the -law gave his son by heirship. - -The Deemster was silent. Term by term he read, without comment, the -Principal's unfavourable reports, with the "ifs" and "buts" and -"althoughs," which were intended to soften the hard facts with -indications of what might have been. And he said not a word of -remonstrance or reproach when the boy came home without prizes, -though he wrote in his leather-bound book that he felt sometimes as -if he could have given its weight in gold for the least of them. - -At seventeen and a half Stowell became head of the school, not so -much by scholastic attainment as by seniority, by proficiency in -games and by influence over the boys. But even in this capacity he -had serious shortcomings. Gell had by this time developed a -supernatural gift of getting into scrapes, and Stowell, as head boy, -partly responsible for his conduct, often allowed himself to become -his scapegoat. - -Then the rumour came home that Victor was not only a waster but a -wastrel. Janet wouldn't believe a word of it, 'deed she wouldn't, -and "Auntie Kitty" said the boy was the son of the Deemster, and she -had never yet seen a good cow with a bad calf. But Dan Baldromma was -of another opinion. - -"The Dempster may be a grand man," said Dan, "but sarve him right, I -say. Spare the rod, spoil the child! Show me the man on this island -will say I ever done that with my own child--my wife's, I mane." - -Finally came a report of the incident on the Darby-Haven road. John -Cæsar, a "lump" of a lad, son of Qualtrough, the butcher (a -respectable man and a member of the Keys), had been brutally -assaulted while doing his best to protect a young nurse-girl from the -unworthy attentions of a college boy. The culprit was Victor -Stowell, and the father of the victim had demanded his prosecution -with the utmost rigour of the law. But out of respect for the -Deemster, and regard for the school, he was not to be arrested on -condition that he was to be expelled. - -For three days this circumstantial story was on everybody's lips, yet -the Deemster never heard it. But he was one of those who learn ill -tidings without being told, and see disasters before they happen, so -when the Principal's letter came he showed no surprise. - -Janet saw him coming downstairs dressed for dinner (he had dressed -for dinner during his married days and kept up the habit ever -afterwards, though he nearly always dined alone) just as old Willie -Killip, the postman, with his red lantern at his belt, came through -the open porch to the vestibule door. Taking his letter and going -into the Library, he had stood by the writing desk under the -"Stranger's" picture, while he opened the envelope and looked at the -contents of it. His face had fallen after he read the first page, -and it was the same as if the sun was setting on the man, but when he -turned the second it had lightened, and it was just as if the day was -dawning on him. - -Then, without a moment's hesitation, he sat at the desk and wrote a -telegram for old Willie to take back. It was to the Principal at -King William's, and there was only one line in it-- - -"Send him home--_Stowell_." - -After that--Janet was ready to swear on the Holy Book to it--he rose -and looked up into the "Stranger's" face and said, in a low voice -that was like that of a prayer: - -"It's all right, Isobel--it is well." - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -FATHERS AND SONS - -Next day the Deemster drove to Douglas to meet his son coming back. -The weather was cold, he had to leave home in the grey of morning, -and he was driving in an open dog-cart, but the Deemster knew what he -was doing. Ten minutes before the train came in from Castletown he -had drawn up in the station yard. The passengers came through from -the platform and saw him there, and he sainted some of them. Cæsar -Qualtrough was among them, a gross-bodied and dark-faced man, darker -than ever that day with a look of animosity and scorn. - -When, at the tail of the crowd, Victor came, in the sour silence of -the disgraced, no longer wearing his college cap, and with his -discoloured college trunk being trundled behind him, the Deemster -said nothing, but he indicated the seat by his side, and the boy -climbed up to it. Then with his white head erect and his strong eyes -shining he drove out of the station yard. - -It was still early morning and he was in no hurry to return home. -For half an hour he passed slowly through the principal thoroughfares -of the town, bowing to everybody he knew and speaking to many. It -was market day and he made for the open space about the old church on -the quay, where the farmers' wives were standing in rows with their -baskets of butter and eggs, the farmers' sons with their tipped-up -carts of vegetables, and the smaller of the farmers themselves, from -all parts of the island, with their carcases of sheep and oxen. -Without leaving his seat the Deemster bought of several of them and -had his purchases packed about the college trunk behind him. - -It was office hours by this time and he began to call on his friends, -leaving Victor outside to take care of the horse and dog-cart. His -first call was on the Attorney-General, Donald Wattleworth, who had -been an old school-fellow of his own at King William's, where forty -odd years ago he had saved him from many troubles. - -The Attorney was now a small, dapper, very correct and rather -religious old gentleman (he had all his life worn a white tie and -elastic side-boots), with the round and wrinkled face that is -oftenest seen in a good old woman. For a quarter of an hour the -Deemster talked with him on general subjects, his Courts and -forthcoming cases, without saying a word about the business which had -brought him to Douglas. But the Attorney divined it. From his chair -at his desk on the upper story he could see Victor, with his pale -face, in the dog-cart below, twiddling the slack of the reins in his -nervous fingers, and when the Deemster rose to go he followed him -downstairs to the street, and whispered to the boy from behind, as -his father was taking his seat in front, - -"Cheer up, my lad! Many a good case has a bad start, you know." - -The Deemster's last call was at Government House, and again Victor, -to his relief, was left outside. But when, ten minutes later, the -Governor, with his briar-root pipe in his hand, came into the porch -to see the Deemster off, and found Victor in the dog-cart, looking -cold and miserable, with his overcoat buttoned up to his throat, he -stepped out bareheaded, with the wind in his grey hair, and shook -hands with him, and said, - -"Glad to see you again, my boy. You remember my girl, Fenella? Yes? -Well, she's at college now, but she'll be home for her holiday one of -these days--and then I must bring her over to see you. Good-bye!" - -The Deemster was satisfied. Not a syllable had he said from first to -last about the bad story that had come from Castletown, but before he -left Douglas that day, it was dead and done for. - -"Now we'll go home," he said, and for two hours thereafter, father -and son, sitting side by side, and never speaking except on -indifferent subjects, followed the high mountain road, with its far -view of Ireland and Scotland, like vanishing ghosts across a broken -sea, the deep declivity of the glen, with Dan Baldromma's flour mill -at the foot of it, and the turfy lanes of the Curraghs, where the -curlews were crying, until they came to the big gates of Ballamoar, -with the tall elms and the great silence inside of them, broken only -by the loud cawing of the startled rooks, and then to Janet, in her -lace cap, at the open door of the house, waiting for her boy and -scarcely knowing whether to laugh or cry over him. - - - -II - -Meantime there had been another and very different homecoming. In a -corner of an open third-class carriage of the train that brought -Victor Stowell from Castletown there was a little servant girl with a -servant's tin box, tied about with a cord, on the seat beside her. -This was Bessie Collister, dismissed from the High Bailiff's service -and being sent home to her people. She was very young, scarcely more -than fifteen, with coal-black eyes and eyebrows and bright -complexion--a bud of a girl just breaking into womanhood. - -Dan Baldromma had no need to say she was not his daughter. Her -fatherhood was doubtful. Rumour attributed it to a dashing young -Irish Captain, who sixteen years before had put into Ramsey for -repairs after his ship, a coasting schooner had run on the Carrick -rock. Half the girls of "the north" had gone crazy over this -intoxicating person, and in the wild conflict as to who should win -him Liza Corteen had both won and lost, for as soon as his ship was -ready for sea he had disappeared, and never afterwards been heard of. - -Liza's baby had been born in the following spring, and two years -later Dan Collister, a miller from "the south" who had not much cause -to be proud of his own pedigree, had made a great virtue of marrying -her, child and all, being, as he said, on "conjergal" subjects a man -of liberal views and strong opinions. - -In the fourteen years that followed Liza had learned the liberality -of Dan's views on marriage and Bessie the strength of his hand as -well as opinions. But while the mother's nerves had been broken by -the reproaches about her "by-child," which had usually preceded her -husband's night-long nasal slumbers, the spirits of the girl had not -suffered much, except from fear of a certain strap which he had hung -in the ingle. - -"The world will never grow cold on that child," people used to say in -her earliest days, and it seemed as if it was still true, even in the -depth of her present trouble. - -The open railway carriage was full of farming people going up to -market, and among them were two buxom widows with their baskets of -butter and eggs on their broad knees and their faces resplendent from -much soap. Facing these was a tough and rough old sinner who -bantered them, in language more proper to the stud and the farmyard, -on their late married lives and the necessity of beginning on fresh -ones. The unvarnished gibes provoked loud laughter from the other -passengers, and Bessie's laugh was loudest of all. This led to the -widows looking round in her direction, and presently, in the -recovered consciousness of her situation, she heard whispers of -"Johnny Qualtrough" and the "Dempster's son" and then turned back to -her window and cried. - -There was no one to help her with her luggage when she had to change -at Douglas, so she carried her tin box across the platform to the -Ramsey train. The north-going traffic was light at that hour, and -sitting in an empty compartment she had time to think of home and -what might happen when she got there. This was a vision of Dan -Baldromma threatening, her mother pleading, herself screaming and all -the hurly-burly she had heard so often. - -But even that did not altogether frighten her now, for she had one -source of solace which she had never had before. She was wearing a -big hat with large red roses, a straw-coloured frock and openwork -stockings, with shoes that were much too thin for the on-coming -winter. And looking down at these last and remembering she had -bought them out of her wages, expressly for that walk with Alick -Gell, she thought of something that was immeasurably more important -in her mind than the incident which had led to all the trouble--Alick -had kissed her! - -She was still thinking of this, and tingling with the memory of it, -and telling herself how good she had been not to say who her boy was -when the "big ones" questioned her, and how she would never tell -that, 'deed no, never, no matter what might happen to other people, -when the train drew up suddenly at the station that was her -destination and she saw her mother, a weak-eyed woman, with a -miserable face, standing alone on the shingly platform. - -"Sakes alive, girl, what have thou been doing now?" said Mrs. -Collister, as soon as the train had gone on. "Hadn't I trouble -enough with thy father without this?" - -But Bessie was in tears again by that time, so mother and daughter -lifted the tin box into a tailless market cart that stood waiting in -the road, climbed over the wheel to the plank seat across it, and -turned their horse's head towards home. - -Dan Baldromma's mill stood face to the high road and back to the glen -and the mountains--a substantial structure with a thatched and -whitewashed dwelling-house attached, a few farm buildings and a patch -of garden, which, though warm and bright in summer under its mantle -of gillie-flower and fuchsia, looked bleak enough now with its row of -decapitated cabbage stalks and the straw roofs of its unprotected -beehives. - -As mother and daughter came up in their springless cart they heard -the plash of the mill-wheel and the groan of the mill-stone, and by -that they knew that their lord and master was at work within. So -they stabled their horse for themselves, tipped up their cart and -went into the kitchen--a bare yet clean and cosy place, with earthen -floor, open ingle and a hearth fire, over which a kettle hung by a -sooty chain. - -But hardly had Bessie taken off her coat and hat and sat down to the -cup of tea her mother had made her when the throb of the mill-wheel -ceased, and Dan Baldromma's heavy step came over the cobbled "street" -outside to the kitchen door. - -He was a stoutly-built man, short and gross, with heavy black -eyebrows, thick and threatening lips, a lowering expression, and a -loud and growling voice. Seeing the girl at her meal he went over to -the ingle and stood with his back to the fire, and his big hands -behind him, while he fell on her with scorching sarcasm. - -"Well! Well!" he said. "Back again, I see! And you such a grand -woman grown since you were sitting and eating on that seat before. -Only sixteen years for Spring, yet sooreying (sweet-hearting) -already, I hear! With no wooden-spoon man neither, like your -father--your stepfather, I mane! The son and heir of one of the big -ones of the island, they're telling me! And yet you're not thinking -mane of coming back to the house of a common man like me! Wonderful! -Wonderful!" - -Bessie felt as if her bread-and-butter were choking her, but Dan, -whose impure mind was not satisfied with the effect of his sarcasm, -began to lay out at her with a bludgeon. - -"You fool!" he said. "You've been mixing yourself up with bad doings -on the road, and now a dacent lad is lying at death's door through -you, and the High Bailiff is after flinging you out of his house as -unfit for his family--that's it, isn't it?" - -Bessie had dropped her head on the table, but Mrs. Collister's -frightened face was gathering a look of courage. - -"Aisy, man veen, aisy," said the mother. "Take care of thy tongue, -Dan." - -"My tongue?" said Dan. "It's my character I have to take care of, -woman. When a girl is carrying a man's name that has no legal claim -to it, he has a right to do that, I'm thinking." - -"But the girl's only a child--only a child itself, man." - -"Maybe so, but I've known girls before now, not much older than she -is, to bring disgrace into a dacent house and lave others to live -under it. 'What's bred in the bone comes out in the flesh,' they're -saying." - -The woman flinched as if the lash of a whip had fallen on her face, -and Dan turned back to the girl. - -"So you're a fine lady that belaves in the aristocracks, are you? -Well, I'm a plain man that doesn't, and nobody living in my house can -have any truck with them." - -"But goodness me, Dan, the boy is not a dale older than herself," -said Mrs. Collister. "Nineteen years at the most, and a fine boy at -that." - -"Chut! Nineteen or ninety, it's all as one to me," said Dan, "and -this island will be knowing what sort of boy he is before he has done -with it." - -The young cubs of the "big ones" began early. They treated the -daughters of decent men as their fathers treated everybody--using -them, abusing them, and then treading on them like dirt. - -"But Manx girl are hot young huzzies," said Dan, "and the half of -them ought to be ducked in the mill pond.... What did you expect -this one would do for you, girl, after you had been colloquing and -cooshing and kissing with him in the dark roads? Marry you? Make -you the mistress of Ballamoar? Bessie Corteen, the by-child of Liza -Collister? You toot! You booby! You boght! You damned idiot!" - -Just then there was the sound of wheels on the road, and Dan walked -to the door to look out. It was the Deemster's dog-cart, coming down -the glen, with father and son sitting side by side. The women heard -the Deemster's steady voice saluting the miller as he went by. - -"Fine day, Mr. Collister!" - -"Middlin', Dempster, middlin'," said Dan, in a voice that was like a -growl. And then, the dog-cart being gone, he faced back to the girl -and said, with a bitter snort: - -"So that's your man, is it--driving with the Dempster?" - -"No, no," said the girl, lifting her face from the table. - -"No? Hasn't he been flung out of his college for it--for what came -of it, I mane? And isn't the Dempster taking him home in disgrace?" - -"It was a mistake--it wasn't the Dempster's son," said Bessie. - -"Then who was it?" - -There was no reply. - -"Who was it?" - -"I can't tell you." - -"You mean you won't. We'll see about that, though," said Dan, and -returning to the fireplace, he took a short, thick leather strap from -a nail inside the ingle. - -At sight of this the girl got up and began to scream. "Father! -Father! Father!" - -"Don't father me! Who was it?" said Dan. - -The blood was rising in the mother's pallid face. "Collister," she -cried, "if thou touch the girl again, I'll walk straight out of thy -house." - -"Walk, woman! Do as you plaze! But I must know who brought disgrace -on my name. Who was it?" - -"Don't! Don't! Don't!" cried the girl. - -The mother stepped to the door. "Collister," she repeated, "for -fourteen years thou's done as thou liked with me, and I've been -giving thee lave to do it, but lay another hand on my child..." - -"No, no, don't go, mother. I'll tell him," cried the girl. "It was -.... it was Alick Gell." - -"You mean the son of the Spaker?" - -"Yes." - -"That's good enough for me," said Dan, and then, with another snort, -half bitter and half triumphant, he tossed the strap on to the table, -went out of the house and into the stable. - -An hour afterwards, in his billycock hat and blue suit of Manx -homespun, he was driving his market-cart up the long, straight, -shaded lane to the Speaker's ivy-covered mansion-house, with the -gravelled courtyard in front of it, in which two or three peacocks -strutted and screamed. - - - -III - -The Speaker had only just returned from Douglas. There had been a -sitting of the Keys that day and he had hurried home to tell his wife -an exciting story. It was about the Deemster. The big man was -down--going down anyway! - -Archibald Gell was a burly, full-bearded man of a high complexion. -Although he belonged to what we called the "aristocracy" of the -island, the plebeian lay close under his skin. Rumour said he was -subject to paralysing brain-storms, and that he could be a -foul-mouthed man in his drink. But he was generally calm and nearly -always sober. - -His ruling passion was a passion for power, and his fiercest lust was -a lust of popularity. The Deemster was his only serious rival in -either, and therefore the object of his deep and secret jealousy. He -was jealous of the Deemster's dignity and influence, but above all -(though he had hitherto hidden it even from himself) of his son. - -Stooping over the fire in the drawing-room to warm his hands after -his long journey, he was talking, with a certain note of -self-congratulation, of what he had heard in Douglas. That ugly -incident at King William's had come to a head! The Stowell boy had -been expelled, and the Deemster had had to drive into town to fetch -him home. He, the Speaker, had not seen him there, but Cæsar -Qualtrough had. Cæsar was a nasty customer to cross (he had had -experience of the man himself), and in the smoking-room at the Keys -he had bragged of what he could have done. He could have put the -Deemster's son in jail! Yes, ma'am, in jail! If he had had a mind -for it young Stowell might have slept at Castle Rushen instead of -Ballamoar to-night. And if he hadn't, why hadn't he? Cæsar wouldn't -say, but everybody knew--he had a case coming on in the Courts -presently! - -"Think of it," said the Speaker, "the first Judge in the island in -the pocket of a man like that!" - -Mrs. Gell, who was a fat, easy-going, good-natured soul, with the -gentle eyes of a sheep (her hair was a little disordered at the -moment, for she had only just awakened from her afternoon sleep, and -was still wearing her morning slippers), began to make excuses. - -"But mercy me, Archie," she said, "what does it amount to after -all--only a schoolboy squabble?" - -"Don't talk nonsense, Bella," said the Speaker. "It may have been a -little thing to begin with, but the biggest river that ever plunged -into the sea could have been put into a tea-cup somewhere." - -This ugly business would go on, until heaven knew what it would come -to. The Deemster, who had bought his son's safety from a blackguard -without bowels, would never be able to hold up his head again--he, -the Speaker never would, he knew that much anyway. As for the boy -himself, he was done for. Being expelled from King William's no -school or university across the water would want him, and if he ever -wished to be admitted to the Manx Bar it would be the duty of his own -father to refuse him. - -"So that's the end of the big man, Bella--the beginning of the end -anyway." - -Just then the peacocks screamed in the courtyard---they always -screamed when visitors were approaching. Mrs. Gell looked up and the -Speaker walked to the window and looked out without seeing anybody. -But at the next moment the drawing-room door was thrust open and -their eldest daughter, Isabella, with wide eyes and a blank -expression was saying breathlessly, - -"It's Alick. He has run away from school." - -Alick came behind her, a pitiful sight, his college cap in his hand, -his face pale, drawn and smudged with sweat, his hair disordered, his -clothes covered with dust, and his boots thick with soil. - -"What's this she says--that you've run away?" said the Speaker. - -"Yes, I have--I told her so myself," said Alick, who was half crying. - -"Did you though? And now perhaps you will tell me something--why?" - -"Because Stowell had been expelled, and I couldn't stay when he was -gone." - -"Couldn't you now? And why couldn't you?" - -"He was innocent." - -"Innocent, was he? Who says he was innocent?" - -"I do, Sir, because .... it was _I_." - -It was a sickening moment for the Speaker. He gasped as if something -had smitten him in the mouth, and his burly figure almost staggered. - -"You did it .... what Stowell was expelled for?" he stammered. - -"Yes, Sir," said Alick, and then, still with the tremor of a sob in -his voice, he told his story. It was the same that he had told twice -before, but with a sequel added. Although he had confessed to the -Principal, they had expelled Stowell. Not publicly perhaps, but it -had been expelling him all the same. Four days they had kept him in -his study, without saying what they meant to do with him. Then this -morning, while the boys were at prayers they had heard carriage -wheels come up to the door of the Principal's house, and when they -came out of Chapel the Study was empty and Stowell was gone. - -"And then," said the Speaker (with a certain pomp of contempt now), -"without more ado you ran away?" - -"Yes, Sir," answered the boy, "by the lavatory window when we were -breaking up after breakfast." - -"Where did you get the money to travel with?" - -"I had no money, Sir. I walked." - -"Walked from Castletown? What have you eaten since breakfast?" - -"Only what I got on the road, Sir." - -"You mean .... begged?" - -"I asked at a farm by Foxdale for a glass of milk and the farmer's -wife gave me some bread as well, Sir." - -"Did she know who you were?" - -"She asked me--I had to answer her." - -"You told her you were my son?" - -"Yes, Sir." - -"And perhaps--feeling yourself such a fine fellow, what you were -doing there, and why you were running away from school?" - -"Yes, Sir." - -"You fool! You infernal fool!" - -The Speaker had talked himself out of breath and for a moment his -wife intervened. - -"Alick," she said, "if it was you, as you say, who walked out with -the girl, who was she?" - -"She was .... a servant girl, mother." - -"But who?" - -"Tut!" said the Speaker, "what does it matter who? .... You say you -confessed to the Principal?" - -"Yes, Sir." - -"Then if he chose to disregard your confession, and to act on his own -judgment, what did it matter to you?" - -"It was wrong to expel Stowell for what I had done and I couldn't -stand it," said the boy. - -"You couldn't stand it! You dunce! If you were younger I should -take the whip to you." - -The Speaker was feeling the superiority of his son's position, but -that only made him the more furious. - -"I suppose you know what this running away will mean when people come -to hear of it?" - -Alick made no answer. - -"You've given the story a fine start, it seems, and it won't take -long to travel." - -Still Alick made no answer. - -"Stowell will be the martyr and you'll be the culprit, and that ugly -incident of the boy with the broken skull will wear another -complexion." - -"I don't care about that," cried Alick. - -"You don't care!" - -"I had to do my duty to my chum, Sir." - -"And what about your duty to me, and to your mother and to your -sisters? Was it your 'duty' to bring disgrace on all of us?" - -Alick dropped his head. - -"You shan't do that, though, if I can help it. Go away and wash your -dirty face and get something on your stomach. You're going back to -Castletown in the morning." - -"I won't go back to school, Sir," said Alick. - -"Won't you, though? We'll see about that. I'll take you back." - -"Then I'll run away again, Sir." - -"Where to, you jackass? Not to this house, I promise you." - -"I'll get a ship and go to sea, Sir." - -"Then get a ship and go to sea, and to hell, too, if you want to. -You fool! You damned blockhead!" - -After the Speaker had swept the boy from the room, his mother was -crying. "Only eighteen years for harvest," she was saying, as if -trying to excuse him. And then, as if seeking to fix the blame -elsewhere, she added, - -"Who was the girl, I wonder?" - -"God's sake, woman," cried the Speaker, "what does it matter who she -was? Some Castletown huzzy, I suppose." - -The peacocks were screaming again; they had been screaming for some -time, and the front-door bell had been ringing, but in the hubbub -nobody had heard them. But now the parlour-maid came to tell the -Speaker that Mr. Daniel Collister of Baldromma was in the porch and -asking to see him. - - - -IV - -Dan came into the room with his rolling walk, his eyes wild and dark, -his billy-cock hat in his hand and his black hair 'strooked' flat -across his forehead, where a wet brush had left it. - -"Good evening, Mr. Spaker! You too, Mistress Gell! It's the twelfth -to-morrow, but I thought I would bring my Hollantide rent to-day." - -"Sit down," said the Speaker, who had given him meagre welcome. - -Dan drew a chair up to a table, took from the breast pocket of his -monkey-jacket a bulging parcel in a red print handkerchief (looking -like a roadman's dinner), untied the knots of it, and disclosed a -quantity of gold and silver coins, and a number of Manx bank notes -creased and soiled. These he counted out with much deliberation amid -a silence like that which comes between thunderclaps--the Speaker, -standing by the fireplace, coughing to compose himself, his wife -blowing her nose to get rid of her tears, and no other sounds being -audible except the nasal breathing of Dan Baldromma, who had hair -about his nostrils. - -"Count it for yourself; I belave you'll find it right, Sir." - -"Quite right. I suppose you'll want a receipt?" - -"If you plaze." - -The Speaker sat at a small desk, and, as well as he could (for his -hand was trembling), he wrote the receipt and handed it across the -table. - -"And now about my lease," said Dan. - -"What about it?" said the Speaker. - -"It runs out a year to-day, Sir, and Willie Kerruish, the advocate, -was telling me at the Michaelmas mart you were not for renewing it. -Do you still hould to that, Mr. Spaker?" - -"Certainly I do," said the Speaker. "I don't want to enter into -discussions, but I think you'll be the better for another landlord -and I for another tenant." - -There was another moment of silence, broken only by Dan's nasal -breathing, and then he said: - -"Mr. Spaker, the Dempster's son has come home in disgrace, they're -saying." - -"What's that got to do with it?" said the Speaker. - -"My daughter has come home in disgrace, too--my wife's daughter, I -mane." - -Mrs. Gell raised herself in her easy chair. "Was it your girl, -then..." she began. - -"It was, ma'am. Bessie Corteen--Collister, they're calling her." - -"What's all this to me?" said the Speaker. - -"She's telling me it's a mistake about the Dempster's son, Sir. It -was somebody else's lad did the mischief." - -"I see you are well informed," said the Speaker. "Well, what of it?" - -"Cæsar Qualtrough might have prosecuted but he didn't, out of respect -for the Dempster," said Dan. - -"So they _say_," said the Speaker. - -"But if somebody gave him a scute into the truth he mightn't be so -lenient with another man--one other anyway." - -The Speaker was silent. - -"There have been bits of breezes in the Kays, they're telling me." - -Still the Speaker was silent. - -"Cæsar and me were middling well acquaint when I was milling at -Ballabeg and he was hutching at Port St. Mary--in fact we were same -as brothers." - -"I see what you mean to do, Mr. Collister," said the Speaker, "but -you can save yourself the trouble. My lad is in this house now if -you want to know, but I'm sending him to sea, and before you can get -to Castletown he will have left the island." - -"And what will the island say to that, Sir?" said Dan. "That -Archibald Gell, Spaker of the Kays, chairman of everything, and the -biggest man going, barring the Dempster, has had to send his son away -to save him from the lock-up." - -The Speaker took two threatening strides forward, and Dan rose to his -feet. There was silence again as the two men stood face to face, but -this time it was broken by the Speaker's breathing also. Then he -turned aside and said, with a shamefaced look: - -"I'll hear what Kerruish has to say. I have to see him in the -morning." - -"I lave it with you, Sir; I lave it with you," said Dan. - -"Good-day, Mr. Collister." - -"Good-day to you, Mr. Spaker! And you, too, Mistress Gell!" said -Dan. But having reached the door of the room he stopped and added: - -"There's one thing more, though. If my girl is to live with me she -must work for her meat, and there must be no more sooreying." - -"That will be all right--I know my son," said the Speaker. - -"And I know my step-daughter," said Dan. "These things go on. A -rolling snowball doesn't get much smaller. Maybe that Captain out of -Ireland isn't gone from the island yet--his spirit, I mane. Keep -your lad away from Baldromma. It will be best, I promise you." - -Then the peacocks in the courtyard screamed again and the jolting of -a springless cart was heard going over the gravel. The two in the -drawing-room listened until the sound of the wheels had died away in -the lane to the high road, and then the Speaker said: - -"That's what comes of having children! We thought it bad for the -Deemster to be in the pocket of a man like Cæsar Qualtrough, but to -be under the harrow of Dan Baldromma!" - -"Aw, dear! Aw, dear!" said Mrs. Gell. - -"He was right about Alick going to sea, though," said the Speaker, -and, touching the bell for the parlour-maid, he told her to tell his -son to come back to him. - -Alick was in the dining-room by this time, washed and brushed and -doing his best to drink a pot of tea and eat a plate of -bread-and-butter, amid the remonstrances of his three sisters, who, -seeing events from their own point of view, were rating him roundly -on associating with a servant. - -"I wonder you hadn't more respect for your sisters?" said Isabella. - -"What are people to think of us--Fenella Stanley, for instance?" said -Adelaide. - -"I declare I shall be ashamed to show my face in Government House -again," said Verbena. - -"Oh, shut up and let a fellow eat," said Alick, and then something -about "first-class flunkeys." - -But at that moment the parlour-maid came with his father's message -and he had to return to the drawing-room. - -"On second thoughts," said the Speaker, "we have decided that you are -not to go to sea. We have only one son, and I suppose we must do our -best with him. You haven't brains enough for building, so, if you -are not to go back to school, you must stay on the land and learn to -look after these farms in Andreas." - -"I'll do my best to please you, Sir," said Alick. - -"But listen to this," said the Speaker, "Dan Baldromma has been here, -and we know who the girl was. There is to be no more mischief in -that quarter. You must never see her or hear from her again as long -as you live--is it a promise?" - -"Yes, Sir," said Alick, and he meant to keep it. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -ENTER FENELLA STANLEY - -The winter passed, the spring came and nothing was done for Victor. -His father made no effort to provide for his future, whether at -another school, at college, or in a profession. - -"I wonder at the Dempster, I really do," said Auntie Kitty. - -"Leave him alone," said Janet--it would all come right some day. - -Left to himself, Victor became the great practical joker of the -countryside. Every prank for which no other author could be found -was attributed to him. If any pretentious person fell into a -ridiculous mare's nest people would say, - -"But where was young Stowell while that was going on?" - -In this dubious occupation of "putting the fun" on folks he soon -found the powerful assistance of Alick Gell. That young gentleman, -for his training on the land, had been handed over to the charge of -old Tom Kermode, the Speaker's steward. But Tom, good man, foresaw -the possibility of being supplanted in his position if the Speaker's -son acquired sufficient knowledge to take it, and therefore he put no -unnecessary obstacles in the way of the boy's industrious efforts not -to do so. On the contrary he encouraged them, with the result that -Alick and Victor foregathered again, and having nothing better to do -than to make mischief, they proceeded to make it. - -How much the Deemster heard of his son's doings nobody knew. Twice a -day he sat at meat with him without speaking a word of reproof. But -Janet saw that when report was loudest he wrote longer than usual in -his leather-bound book before going to bed, and that his head was -lower than ever in the morning. - -At length Janet entered into a secret scheme with herself for lifting -it up again. This consisted in prompting her dear boy to do -something, to make an effort, to justify himself. So making excuse -of the Deemster's business she would take Victor's breakfast to his -bedroom before he had time to get up to it. - -It was a bright room to the north-east, flooded with sunshine at that -season after she had drawn the blind, and fresh, after she had thrown -up the sash, with morning air that smacked of the blue sea (which -came humming down from the dim ghost of Galloway), and relished of -the sandy soil of Man, with its yellowing crops of rustling oats, -over which the larks and the linnets tumbled and sang. - -Victor was always asleep when she went in at eight o'clock, for he -slept like a top, and after she had scolded him for lying late, he -would sit up in bed, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair, to eat -his breakfast, while she turned his stockings, shook out his shirt, -gathered up his clothes (they were usually distributed all over the -room) and talked. - -Victor noticed whatever she began upon she always ended with the same -subject. It was Fenella Stanley. That girl was splendid, and she -was getting on marvellously. Still at college "across"? Yes, -Newnham they were calling it, and she was carrying everything before -her--prizes, scholarships, honours--goodness knows what. - -The island was ringing with her praise but Janet was hearing -everything direct from Miss Green, the Governor's housekeeper, with -whom she kept up a constant correspondence. That woman worshipped -the girl--you never saw the like, never! As for the Governor, it was -enough to bring tears into a woman's eyes to see how proud he was of -his daughter. When he had news that she had taken a new honour it -was like new life to the old man. You would think the sun was -shining all over the house, and that was saying something there--the -Keys being so troublesome. Of course he was "longing" for his -daughter to come home to him, and that was only natural, but knowing -how hard she was working now--six in the morning until six in the -evening, Catherine Green was saying--he was waiting patiently. - -"Aw, yes, yes, that's the way with fathers," said Janet. "Big men as -they may be themselves, they are prouder of their children's -successes than of their own--far prouder." - -The effect of Janet's scheme was the reverse of what she had -expected. By a law of the heart of a boy, which the good soul knew -nothing of, Victor resented the industry, success and reputation of -Fenella Stanley. It was a kind of rebuke to his own idleness. The -girl was a bookworm and would develop into a blue-stocking! He had -not seen her for years and did not want to see her, but in his mind's -eye he pictured her as she must be now--a pale-faced young person in -a short blue skirt and big boots, with cropped hair and perhaps -spectacles! - -Describing this vision to Alick Gell, as they were drying themselves -on the shore after a swim, Victor said with emphasis that if there -was one thing he hated it was a woman who was half a man. - -"Same here," said Alick, who had had liberal doses of the same -medicine at home, less delicately administered by his sister Isabella. - -But where Janet failed, a greater advocate, nature itself, was soon -to succeed. The boys were then in their nineteenth year, a pair of -full-grown, healthy, handsome lads as ever trod the heather, or -stripped to the sea, but there was a great world which had not yet -been revealed to either of them--the world of woman. That world was -to be revealed to one of them now. - - - -II - -It was a late afternoon early in September. The day had been -wonderful. Over the bald crown above Druidsdale the sun came -slanting across the Irish Sea from a crimsoning sky beyond the purple -crests of the Morne mountains. Stowell and Gell had been camping out -for two days in the Manx hills, and, parting at a junction of paths, -Gell had gone down towards Douglas while Stowell had dropped into the -cool dark depths of the glen that led homewards. - -Victor was as brown as a berry. He was wearing long, thick-soled -yellow boots almost up to his knees, with his trousers tucked into -them, a loose yellow shirt, rolled up to the elbows of his strong -round arms, no waistcoat, his Norfolk jacket thrown over his left -shoulder, and a knapsack strapped on his back. - -With long, plunging strides he was coming down the glen, singing -sometimes in a voice that was partly drowned by the louder water -where it dipped into a dub, when, towards the Curragh end of it, on -the "brough" side of the river, he came upon a startling vision. - -It was a girl. She was about seventeen years of age, bare-headed and -bare-footed, and standing ankle-deep in the water. Her lips, and a -little of the mouth at either side, were stained blue with -blackberries--she had clearly been picking them and had taken off -shoes and stockings to get at a laden bush. - -She was splendidly tall, and had bronze brown hair, with a glint of -gold when the sun shone on it. The sun was shining on it now, -through a gap in the thinning trees that overhung the glen, and with -the leaves pattering over her head, and the river running at her -feet, it was almost as if she herself were singing. - -With her spare hand she was holding up her dress, which was partly of -lace--light and loose and semi-transparent--and when a breeze, which -was blowing from the sea, lapped it about her body there was a hint -of the white, round, beautiful form beneath. Her eyes were dark and -brilliantly full, and her face was magnificently intellectual, so -clear-cut and clean. And yet she was so feminine, so womanly, such a -girl! - -She must have heard Stowell's footsteps, and perhaps his singing as -he approached, for she turned to look up at him--calmly, rather -seriously, a little anxiously but without the slightest confusion. -And he looked at her, pausing to do so, without being quite aware of -it, and feeling for one brief moment as if wind and water had -suddenly stopped and the world stood still. - -There was a moment of silence, in which he felt a certain chill, and -she a certain warmth, and both a certain dryness at the throat. The -girl was the first to recover self-control. Her face sweetened to a -smile, and then, in a voice that was a little husky, and yet sounded -to him like music, she said, as if she had asked and answered an -earlier question for herself: - -"But of course you don't know who _I_ am, do you?" - -He did. Although she was so utterly unlike what he had expected -(what he had told himself he expected) he knew--she was Fenella -Stanley. - -As often as he thought of it afterwards he could never be quite sure -what he had said to her in those first moments. He could only guess -at what it must have been by his vivid memory of what she had said in -reply. - -She watched him, womanlike, for a moment longer, to see what -impression she had made upon him, now that she knew what impression -he had made upon her. Then she glanced down at her bare feet, that -looked yellow on the pebbles in the running water, and then at her -shoes and stockings, which, with her parasol, lay on the bank, and -said: - -"I suppose you ought to go away while I get out of this?" - -"Why?" - -He never knew what made him say that, but she glanced up at him -again, with the answering sunshine of another smile, and said: - -"Well, you needn't, if you don't want to." - -After that she stepped out of the river, and sat on the grass to dry -her feet and pull on her stockings. As she did so, and he stood -watching, forgetting (such was the spell of things) to turn his eyes -away, she shot another look up at him, and said: - -"I remember that the last time I was in these parts you ordered me -off, Sir." - -"And the last time I was at Government House you turned me out of the -tennis court," he answered. - -She laughed. He laughed. They both laughed together. Also they -both trembled. But by the time she had put on her shoes he was -feeling braver, so he went down on his knees to tie her laces. - -It was a frightening ordeal, but he got through at last, and to cover -their embarrassment, while the lacing was going on, they came to -certain explanations. - -Yesterday the Governor had telegraphed to the Deemster that he would -like to fulfil his promise to visit Ballamoar and stay the night if -convenient. So they had driven over in the carriage and arrived -about two hours ago, and were going back to-morrow morning. - -"Of course you were not there when we came," she said, "being, it -seems, a gentleman of gipsy habits, so when Janet (I mean Miss -Curphey) mentioned at tea that you were likely to come down the glen -about sunset.... - -"Then you were coming to meet me?" he said. - -She laughed again, having said more than she had intended and finding -no way of escape from it. - -When all was done and he had helped her up (how his fingers tingled!) -and they stood side by side for the first time (she was less than -half a head shorter than himself and her eyes seemed almost on the -level of his own) and they were ready to go, he suddenly remembered -that they were on the wrong side for the road. So if she hadn't to -take off her boots and stockings and wade through the water again, or -else walk half a mile down the glen to the bridge, he would have to -carry her across the river. - -Without more ado she let him do it--picking her up in his quivering -arms and striding through the water in his long boots. - -Then being dropped to her feet she laughed again; and he laughed, and -they went on laughing, all the way down the glen road, and through -the watery lanes of the Curragh, where the sally bushes were singing -loud in the breeze from the sea--but not so loud as the hearts of -this pair of children. - - - -III - -That night, after dinner, leaving the Deemster and the Governor at -the table, discussing insular subjects (a constitutional change which -was then being mooted), Victor took Fenella out on to the piazza, -(his mother had called it so), the uncovered wooden terrace which -overlooked the coast. - -He was in a dark blue jacket suit, not yet having possessed evening -wear, but she was in a gauzy light dress with satin slippers, and her -bronze-brown hair was curled about her face in bewitching ringlets. - -The evening was very quiet, almost breathless, with hardly a leaf -stirring. The revolving light in the lighthouse on the Point of Ayre -(seven miles away on its neck of land covered by a wilderness of -white stones) was answering to the far-off gleam of the light on the -Mull of Galloway, while the sky to the west was a slumberous red, as -if the night were dreaming of the departed day. - -They had not yet recovered from their experience in the glen, and, -sitting out there in the moonlight (for the moon had just sailed -through a rack of cloud), they were still speaking involuntarily, and -then laughing nervously at nothing--nothing but that tingling sense -of sex which made them afraid of each other, that mysterious call of -man to maid which, when it first comes, is as pure as an angel's -whisper. - -"What a wonderful day it has been!" she said, - -"The most wonderful day I have ever known," he answered. - -"And what a wonderful home you have here," she said. - -"Haven't we?" he replied. And then he told her that over there in -the dark lay Ireland, and over there Scotland, and over there -England, and straight ahead was Norway and the North Pole. - -That caught them up into the zone of great things, the eternities, -the vast darkness out of which the generations come and towards which -they go; and, having found his voice at last, he began to tell her -how the island came to be peopled by its present race. - -This was the very scene of the Norse invasion--the Vikings from -Iceland having landed on this spot a thousand years ago. When the -old sea king (his name was Orry) came ashore at the Lhen (it was on a -starlight night like this) the native inhabitants of Man had gone -down to challenge him. "Where do you come from?" they had cried, and -then, pointing to the milky way, he had answered, "That's the road to -my country." But the native people had fought him to throw him back -into the sea--yes, men and women, too, they say. This very ground -between them and the coast had been the battlefield, and it must -still be full of the dead who had died that day. - -"What a wonderful story!" she said. - -"Isn't it?" - -"The women fought too, you say?" - -"Thousands of them, side by side with their men, and they were the -mothers of the Manxmen of to-day." - -"How glorious! How perfectly glorious!" - -And then, clasping her hands about her knee, and looking steadfastly -into the dark of the night, she, on her part, told him something. It -was about a great new movement which was beginning in England for a -change in the condition of women. Oh, it was wonderful! Miss -Clough, the Principal, and all the girls at Newnham were ablaze with -it, and it was going to sweep through the world. In the past the -attitude towards women of literature, law, even religion, had been so -unfair, so cruel. She could cry to think of it--the long martyrdom -of woman through all the ages. - -"Do you know," she said, "I think a good deal of the Bible itself is -very wicked towards women .... That's shocking, isn't it?" - -"Oh, no, no," said Victor--he was struggling to follow her, and not -finding it easy. - -"But all that will be changed some day," said Fenella. - -It might require some terrible world-trouble to change it, some -cataclysm, some war, perhaps (she didn't know what), but it _would_ -be changed--she was sure it would. And then, when woman took her -rightful place beside man, as his equal, his comrade, his other self, -they would see what would happen. - -"What?" - -All the old laws, so far as they concerned the sexes (and which of -them didn't?) would have to be made afresh, and all the old tales -about men and women (and which of them were not?) would have to be -re-told. - -"The laws made afresh, you say?" - -"Yes, and some of the judges, too, perhaps." - -"And all the old tales re-told?" - -"Every one of them, and then they will be new ones, because woman -will have a new and far worthier place in them." - -They had left the stained-glass door to the dining-room ajar, and at -a pause in Fenella's story they heard the voice of the Governor, in -conversation with the Deemster on the constitutional question, saying, - -"Well, well, old friend, I don't suppose either the millennium will -dawn or the deluge come whether the Keys are reformed or not." - -That led Victor to ask Fenella what her father thought of her -opinions. - -"Oh well," she said, "he doesn't agree. But then .... (her voice was -coming with a laugh from her throat now) I don't quite approve of -father." - -This broke the spell of their serious talk, and he asked if she would -like to go down to an ancient church on the seaward boundary of the -old battlefield--it was a ruin and looked wonderful in the moonlight. - -She said she would love to, and, slipping indoors to make ready, she -came back in a moment with a silk handkerchief about her head, which -made her face intoxicating to the boy who was waiting for it, and -feeling for the first time the thrilling, quivering call of body and -soul that is the secret of the continued race. So off they went -together with a rhythmic stride, down the sandy road to the shore--he -bareheaded, and she in her white dress and the satin slippers in -which her footsteps made no noise. - -The ruined church was on a lonesome spot on the edge of the sea, with -the sea's moan always over it, and the waves thundering in the dark -through the cavernous rocks beneath. - -Fenella bore herself bravely until they reached the roofless chancel, -where an elm tree grew, and the moonlight, now coming and going among -the moving clouds, was playing upon the tomb of some old churchman -whose unearthed bones the antiquaries had lately covered with a stone -and surrounded by an iron railing, and then she clutched at Victor's -arm, held on tightly and trembled like a child. - -That restored the balance of things a little, and going home (it was -his turn to hold on now) he could not help chaffing her on her -feminine fear. Was that one of the old stories that would have to be -re-told .... when the great world-change came, the great cataclysm? - -"Oh, that? Well, of course .... (he believed she was blushing, -though in the darkness he could not see) women may not have the -strength and courage of men--the physical courage, I mean...." - -"Only physical?" he asked. - -She stammered again, and said that naturally men would always be men -and women, women. - -"You don't want that altered, do you?" she said. - -"Oh no, not I, not a bit," said Victor, and then there was more -laughter (rather tremulous laughter now) and less talking for the -next five minutes. - -They had got back to the piazza by this time, and knowing that her -face was in the shaft of light that came through the glass door from -the dining-room, Fenella turned quickly and shot away upstairs. - -For the first time in his life Victor did not sleep until after three -o'clock next morning. He saw the moonlight creep across the -cocoa-nut matting on his bedroom floor and heard the clock on the -staircase landing strike every hour from eleven to three. - -Now that he was alone he was feeling degraded and ashamed. Here was -this splendid girl touching life at its core, dealing with the great -things, the everlasting things, attuning her heart to the future and -the big eternal problems .... while he! - -But under all the self-reproach there was something joyous too, -something delicious, something that made him hot and dizzy and would -not let him sleep, because a blessed hymn of praise was singing -within, and it was so wonderful to be alive. - -He could have kicked himself next morning when he awoke late, and -found the broad sunshine in his bedroom, and heard from Janet that -Fenella had been up two hours and all over the stables and the -plantation. - -After breakfast (downstairs for him this time) the Governor's big -blue landau, with two fine Irish bays, driven by an English coachman, -came sweeping round to the front and he went out in the morning -sunshine, with the Deemster and Janet, to see their guests away. - -The Governor shook hands with him warmly, but Fenella (who was -wearing a coat and some kind of transparent green scarf about her -neck, and thanked the Deemster and kissed Janet as she was stepping -into the carriage) looked another way when she was saying good-bye to -him. - -He slammed the door to, and stepped back, and the carriage started, -and (while the other two went indoors) he stood and looked after it -as it went winding down the drive, amid the awakened clamour of the -rooks, until it came to the turn where the trees were to hide it, and -then Fenella faced round and waved a hand to him. At the next moment -the carriage had gone--and then the sun went out, and the world was -dead. - -That night after dinner Victor told his father that he would like to -go into the Attorney-General's office, as a first step towards taking -up the profession of the law. - -"Good--very good," said the Deemster. - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -THE STUDENT-AT-LAW - -Fenella Stanley had not awakened early, as Janet had supposed--she -had never been to sleep. Her bedroom had been to the north-east, and -she, too, had seen the moonlight creep across her floor; and when it -was gone, and all else was dark, she had felt the revolving light -from the stony neck of the Point of Ayre passing every other minute -over her closed eyelids. - -She was too much of a woman not to know what was happening to her, -but none the less she was confused and startled. Do what she would -to compose herself she could not lie quiet for more than a moment. -Her blood was alternately flowing through her veins like soft milk -and bounding to her heart like a geyser. - -As soon as the daylight came and the rooks began to caw she got up -and dressed, and went through the sleeping house, with its drawn -blinds, and let herself out by the glass door to the piazza. - -Of course she turned towards the shore. It was glorious to be down -there alone, on the ribbed sand, with the salt air on her lips and -the odour of the seaweed in her nostrils and the rising sun -glistening in her eyes over the shimmering and murmuring sea. But it -was still sweeter to return by the sandy road, past the chancel of -the old church (how silly to have been afraid of it!) and to see -footsteps here and there--his and hers. - -The world was astir by this time, with the sun riding high and the -earth smoking from its night-long draughts of dew, the sheep munching -the wet grass in the fields on either side, and the cattle lowing in -the closed-up byres, waiting to be milked. But the white blind of -Victor's room (she was sure it was Victor's) was still down, like a -closed eyelid, and she had half a mind to throw a handful of gravel -at it and then dart indoors. - -Back in the house there were some embarrassing moments. Breakfast -was rather a trying time after Victor came down, looking a little -sheepish, and that last moment on the path was difficult, when he was -holding the carriage door open and saying good-bye to her; but she -could not deny herself that wave of the hand as they turned the -corner of the drive--she was perfectly sure he must be looking after -them. - -After that--misery! Every day at Government House seemed to bring -her an increasing heartache, and when she returned to College a -fortnight later, and fell back into the swing of her former life -there (the glowing and thrilling life she had described to Victor) a -bitter struggle with herself began. - -It was a struggle between the mysterious new-born desires of her -awakening womanhood and the task she had supposed to be her duty--to -consecrate her whole life to the liberation of her sex, giving up, -like a nun if need be, all the joys that were for ever whispering in -the ears of women, that she might devote herself body and soul to the -salvation of her suffering sisters. - -Three months passed in which Fenella believed herself to be the -unhappiest girl in the world. Moments of guilty joy and defiance -mingled with hours of self-reproach. And then dear, good people were -sometimes so cruel! Miss Green, her father's housekeeper, never -wrote without saying something about Victor Stowell. He was a -student-at-law now, and was getting along wonderfully. - -Once Miss Green enclosed a letter from Janet asking Fenella for her -photograph. For nearly a week that was a frightful ordeal, but in -the end the woman triumphed over the nun and she sent the picture. - -"Dear Janet," she wrote, "it was very sweet of you to wish for my -photograph to remind you of that dear and charming day I spent at -Ballamoar, so I have been into Cambridge and had one specially taken -for you, in the dress I wore on that lovely August afternoon which I -shall never forget...." - -It had been a tingling delight to write that letter, but the moment -she had posted it, with the new Cambridge photograph, she could have -died of vexation and shame--it must be so utterly obvious whom she -had sent them to. - -As the Christmas vacation approached she began to be afraid of -herself. If she returned to the island she would be sure to see -Victor Stowell (he must be in Douglas now) and that would be the end -of everything. - -After a tragic struggle, and many secret tears, she wrote to her -father to say what numbers of the Newnham girls were going to Italy -for the holidays and how she would love to see the pictures at -Florence. To her consternation the Governor answered immediately, -saying, - -"Excellent idea! It will do you good, and I shall be happy to get -away from 'the Kays' for a month or two, so I am writing at once to -engage rooms at the Washington." - -She could have cried aloud after reading this letter, but there was -no help for it now. - -Truly, the heart of a girl is a deep riddle and only He Who made can -read it. - - - -II - -In the Attorney-General's office Victor Stowell was going from -strength to strength. There was a vast deal of ordinary drudgery in -his probationary stage, but he was bearing it with amazing patience. -His natural talents were recognised as astonishing and he was being -promoted by rapid degrees. After a few months the Attorney wrote to -the Deemster: - -"Unless I am mistaken your boy is going to be a great lawyer--the -root of the matter seems to be in him." - -Not content with the routine work of the office he took up (by help -of some scheme of University extension) the higher education which -had been cut short by his dismissal from King William's, and in due -course obtained degrees. One day, after talking with Victor, the -Bishop of the island was heard to say: - -"If that young fellow had been sent up to Oxford, as he ought to have -been, he might have taken a first-class in _Literae Humaniores_ and -became the most brilliant man of his year." - -The Attorney-General's office was a large one, and it contained -several other students-at-law. Among them now was Alick Gell, who -had prevailed upon his mother to prevail upon his father to permit -him to follow Stowell. - -"God's sake, woman," the Speaker had said, "let him go then, and make -one more rascally Manx lawyer." - -But neither Alick's industrious idleness, nor the distractions of a -little holiday town in its season, could tempt Stowell from his -studies. His successes seemed lightly won, but Alick, who lodged -with him in Athol Street, knew that he was a hard worker. He worked -early and late as if inspired by a great hope, a great ideal. - -His only recreation was to spend his week-ends at home. When he -arrived on the Saturday afternoons he usually found his father, who -was looking younger every day, humming to himself as he worked in an -old coat among the flowers in the conservatory. At night they dined -together, and after dinner, if the evenings were cool, the Deemster -would call on him to stir the peats and draw up to the fire, and then -the old man would talk. - -It was wonderful talking, but nearly always on the same subject--the -great Manx trials, the great crimes (often led up to by great -temptations), the great advocates and the great Deemsters. Victor -noticed that whatever the Deemster began with he usually came round -to the same conclusion--the power and sanctity of Justice. After an -hour, or more, he would rise in his stately way, to go to the blue -law-papers for his next Court which his clerk, old Joshua Scarf, had -laid out under the lamp on the library table, saying: - -"That's how it is, you see. Justice is the strongest and most sacred -thing in the world, and in the end it must prevail." - -But Victor's greatest joy in his weekly visits to Ballamoar was to -light his candle at ten o'clock on the mahogany table on the landing -under the clock and fly off to his bedroom, for Janet would be there -at that hour, blowing up his fire, turning down his bed, opening his -bag to take out his night-gear and ready to talk on a still greater -subject. - -With the clairvoyance of the heart of a woman who had never had a -lover of her own ("not exactly a real lover," she used to say) she -had penetrated the mystery of the change in Victor. She loved to -dream about the glories of his future career (even her devotion to -the Deemster was in danger of being eclipsed by that) but above -everything else, about the woman who was to be his wife. - -In some deep womanlike way, unknown to man, she identified herself -with Fenella Stanley and courted Victor for her in her absence. She -had visions of their marriage day, and particularly of the day after -it, when they would come home, that lovely and beloved pair, to this -very house, this very room, this very bed, and she would spread the -sheets for them. - -"Is that you, dear?" she would say, down on her knees at the fire, as -he came in with his candle. - -And then he, too, would play his little part, asking about the -servants, the tenants, Robbie Creer, and his son Robin (now a big -fellow and the Deemster's coachman) and Alice and "Auntie Kitty," and -even the Manx cat with her six tailless kittens, and then, as if -casually, about Fenella. - -"Any news from Miss Green lately, Janet?" - -One night Janet had something better than news--a letter and a -photograph. - -"There! What do you think of that, now?" - -Victor read the letter in its bold, clear, unaffected handwriting, -and then holding the photograph under the lamp in his trembling -fingers (Janet was sure they were trembling) he said, in a voice that -was also trembling: - -"Don't you think she's like my mother--just a little like?" - -"'Deed she is, dear," said Janet. "You've put the very name to it. -And that's to say she's like the loveliest woman that ever walked the -world--in this island anyway." - -Victor could never trust his voice too soon after Janet said things -like that (she was often saying them), but after a while he laughed -and answered: - -"I notice she doesn't walk the island too often, though. She hasn't -come here for ages." - -"Oh, but she will, boy, she will," said Janet, and then she left him, -for he was almost undressed by this time, to get into bed and dream. - - - -III - -At length, Victor Stowell's term as a student-at-law came to an end -and he was examined for the Manx bar. The examiner was the junior -Deemster of the island--Deemster Taubman, an elderly man with a -yellow and wrinkled face which put you in mind of sour cream. He was -a bachelor, notoriously hard on the offences of women, having been -jilted, so rumor said, by one of them (a well-to-do widow), on whose -person or fortune he had set his heart or expectations. - -Stowell and Gell went up together, being students of the same year, -and Deemster Taubman received them at his home, two mornings running, -in his dressing-gown and slippers. Stowell's fame had gone before -him, so he got off lightly; but Gell came in for a double dose of the -examiner's severity. - -"Mr. Gell," said Deemster Taubman, "if somebody consulted you in the -circumstance that he had lent five hundred pounds on a promissory -note, payable upon demand, but without security, to a rascal (say a -widow woman) who refused to pay and declared her intention of leaving -the island to-morrow and living abroad, what would you advise your -client to do for the recovery of his money?" - -Alick had not the ghost of an idea, but knowing Deemster Taubman was -vain, and thinking to flatter him, he said, - -"I should advise my client, your Honour, to lay the facts, in an _ex -parte_ petition before your Honour at your Honour's next Court" (it -was to be held a fortnight later) "and be perfectly satisfied with -your Honour's judgment." - -"Dunce!" said Deemster Taubman, and sitting down to his desk, he -advised the Governor to admit Mr. Stowell but remand Mr. Gell for -three months' further study. - -Victor telegraphed the good news to his father, packed up his -belongings in his lodging at Athol Street, and took the next train -back to Ballamoar. Young Robbie Creer met him at the station with -the dog-cart, and took up his luggage, but Victor was too excited to -ride further, so he walked home by a short cut across the Curragh. - -His spirits were high, for after many a sickening heartache from hope -deferred (the harder to bear because it had to be concealed) he had -done something to justify himself. It wasn't much, it was only a -beginning, but he saw himself going to Government House one day soon -on a thrilling errand that would bring somebody back to the island -who had been too long away from it. - -Of course he must speak to his own father first, and naturally he -must tell Janet. But seeing no difficulties in these quarters he -went swinging along the Curragh lane, with the bees humming in the -gold of the gorse on either side of him and the sea singing under a -silver haze beyond, until he came to the wicket gate on the west of -the tall elms and passed through to the silence inside of them. - -He found the Deemster in the conservatory, re-potting geraniums, and -when he came up behind with a merry shout, his father turned with -glad eyes, a little moist, wiped his soiled fingers on his old coat -and shook hands with him (for the first time in his life) saying, in -a thick voice, - -"Good--very good!" - -They dined together, as usual, and when they had drawn up at opposite -cheeks of the hearth, with the peat fire between them, the Deemster -talked as Victor thought he had never heard him talk before. - -It was the proper aspiration of every young advocate to become a -Judge, and there was no position of more dignity and authority. -Diplomatists, statesmen, prime ministers and even presidents might be -influenced in their conduct by fears or hopes, or questions of -policy, but the Judge alone of all men was free to do the right, as -God gave him to see the right, no matter if the sky should fall. - -"But if the position of the Judge is high," said the Deemster, "still -higher is his responsibility. Woe to the Judge who permits personal -interests to pervert his judgment and thrice woe to him who commits a -crime against Justice." - -Victor found it impossible to break in on that high theme with -mention of his personal matter, so, as soon as the clock on the -landing began to warn for ten he leapt up, snatched his candle, and -flew off to his bedroom in the hope of talk of quite another kind -with Janet. - -But Janet was not there, and neither was his bed turned down as -usual, nor his night-gear laid out, nor his lamp lighted. He had -asked for her soon after his arrival and been told that she had gone -to her room early in the afternoon, and had not since been heard of. - -"Headache," thought Victor, remembering that she was subject to this -malady, and without more thought of the matter, he tumbled into bed -and fell asleep. - -But the first sight that met his eyes when he opened them in the -morning was Janet, with a face dissolved in tears, and the tray in -her hand, asking him in a muffled voice to sit up to his breakfast. - -"Lord alive, Janet, what's amiss?" he asked, but she only shook her -head and called on him to eat. - -"Tell me what's happened," he said, but not a word would she say -until he had taken his breakfast. - -He gulped down some of the food, under protest, Janet standing over -him, and then came a tide of lamentation. - -"God comfort you, my boy! God strengthen and comfort you!" said -Janet. - -In the whirl of his stunned senses, Victor caught at the first -subject of his thoughts. - -"Is it about Fenella?" he asked, and Janet nodded and-wiped her eyes. - -"Is she--dead?" - -Janet threw up her hands. "Thank the Lord, no, not that, anyway." - -"Is she ill?" - -"Not that either." - -"Then why make all this fuss? What does it matter to me?" - -"It matters more to you than to anybody else in the world, dear," -said Janet. - -Victor took her by the shoulders as she stood by his bed. "In the -name of goodness, Janet, what is it?" he said. - -It came at last, a broken story, through many gusts of breath, all -pretences down between them now and their hearts naked before each -other. - -Fenella Stanley, who, since she left Newnham, had been working (as he -knew) as a voluntary assistant at some Women's Settlement in London, -had just been offered and had accepted the position of its resident -Lady Warden, and signed on for seven years. - -"Seven years, you say?" - -"Seven years, dear." - -The Governor had prayed and protested, saying he had only one -daughter, and asking if she meant that he was to live the rest of his -life alone, but Fenella, who had written heart-breaking letters, had -held to her purpose. It was like taking the veil, like going into a -nunnery; the girl was lost to them, they had seen the last of her. - -"I had it all from Catherine Green," said Janet. - -Willie Killip, the postman, had given her the letter just when she -was standing at the porch, looking down the Curragh lane for Victor, -and seeing him coming along with his high step and the sunset behind -him, swishing the heads off the cushags with his cane. - -"I couldn't find it in my heart to tell you last night, and you -looking so happy, so I ran away to my room, and it's a sorrowful -woman I am to tell you this morning." - -She knew it would be bitter hard to him--as hard as it must have been -to Jacob to serve seven years for Rachel and then lose her, and that -was the saddest story in the old Book, she thought. - -"But we must bear it as well as we can, dear, and--who knows?--it may -all be for the best some day." - -Victor, resting on his elbow, had listened with mouth agape. The -flaming light which had crimsoned his sky for five long years, -sustaining him, inspiring him, had died out in an instant. For some -moments he did not speak, and in the intervals of Janet's -lamentations nothing was audible but the cry of some sea-gulls who -had come up from the sea, where a storm was rising. Then he began to -laugh. It was wild, unnatural laughter, beginning thick in his -throat and ending with a scream. - -"Lord, what a joke!" he cried. "What a damned funny joke!" - -But at the next moment he broke into a stifling sob, and fell face -down on to the pillow and soaked it with his tears. - -Janet hung over him like a mother-bird over a broken nest, her -wrinkled face working hard with many emotions--sorrow for her boy and -even anger with Fenella. - -"Aw, dear! aw, dear!" she moaned, "many a time I've wished I had been -your real mother, dear; but never so much as now that I might have a -right to comfort you." - -At that word, though sadly spoken, Victor raised himself from his -pillow, brushed his eyes fiercely and said, in a firm, decided voice, - -"That's all right, mother. I've been a fool. But it shall never -happen again--never!" - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -THE WORLD OF WOMAN - -Victor Stowell spent his first two hours after Janet left him in -destroying everything which might remind him of Fenella. Her -picture, which Janet had framed and hung over his mantel-piece, he -put face-down in a drawer. The flowers she had placed in front of it -he flung out of the window. A box full of newspaper cuttings and -extracts from books dealing with the hardships of the laws relating -to women (the collection of five laborious years) he stuffed into the -grate and set fire to. - -But having done all this he found he had done nothing. Only once, -since her childhood, had Fenella been to Ballamoar, yet she had left -her ghost all over it. He could not sit on the piazza, or walk down -the sandy road to the sea, without being ripped and raked by the -thought of her. And sight of the turn of the drive at which she had -waved her hand, and turned the glory of her face on him, was enough -to make the bluest sky a blank. - -For a long month he went about with a look too dark for so young a -face and a step too heavy for so light a foot, blackening his fate -and his future. He never doubted that he had lost something that -could never be regained. Without blaming Fenella for so much as a -moment he felt humiliated and ashamed, and like a fool who had built -his house upon the sand. God, how hollow living seemed! Life had -lost its savour; effort was useless and there was nothing left in the -world but dead-sea fruit. - -How much the Deemster had learnt of his trouble he never knew, but -one night, as they drew up to the cheeks of the hearth after dinner, -he said: - -"Victor, how would you like to go round the world? Travel is good -for a young man. It helps him to get things into proportion." - -Victor leapt at the prospect of escaping from Ballamoar, but thought -it seemly to say something about the expense. - -"That needn't trouble you," said the Deemster, "and you wouldn't be -beholden to me either, for there is something I have never told you." - -His mother had had a fortune of her own, and the last act of her -sweet life had been to make it over to her new-born son, at the -discretion of his father, signing her dear will a few minutes before -she died, against every prayer and protest, in the tragic and -unrecognizable handwriting of the dying. - -"It was five hundred a year then," said the Deemster, "but I've not -touched it for twenty-four years, so it's nine hundred now." - -"That's water enough to his wheel, I'm thinking," said Dan Baldromma, -when he heard of it, and Cæsar Qualtrough was known to say: - -"It's a horse that'll drive him to glory or the devil, and I belave -in my heart I'm knowing which." - -Two months later Victor Stowell was ready for his journey. Alick -Gell was to go with him--that gentleman having scrambled through his -examination and prevailed on his mother to prevail on his father to -permit him to follow Stowell. - -"God's sake, woman," the Speaker had said again, "let him go, and -give him the allowance he asks for, and bother me no more about him." - -Turning westward the young travellers crossed the Atlantic; stood in -awe on the ship's deck at their first sight of the new world, with -its great statue of Liberty to guard its portals; passed over the -breathless American continent, where life scours and roars through -Time like a Neap tide on a shingly coast, casting up its pebbles like -spray; then through Japan, where it flows silent and deep, like a -mill race under adumbrous overgrowth; and so on through China, India -and Egypt and back through Europe. - -It was a wonderful tour--to Gell like sitting in the bow of a boat -where the tumult of life was for ever smiting his face in freshening -waves; to Stowell (for the first months at least) like sitting -miserably in the stern, with only the backwash visible that was -carrying him away, with every heave of the sea, from something he had -left and lost. - -But before long Stowell's heavy spirit regained its wings. Although -he could not have admitted it even to himself without a sense of -self-betrayal, Fenella Stanley's face, in the throng of other and -nearer faces, became fainter day by day. There are no more -infallible physicians for the heart-wounds inflicted by women than -women themselves, and when a man is young, and in the first short -period of virginal manhood, the world is full of them. - -So it came to pass that whatever else the young men saw that was -wonderful and marvellous in the countries they passed through, they -were always seeing women's eyes to light and warm them. And being -handsome and winsome themselves their interest was rewarded according -to the conditions--sometimes with a look, sometimes with a smile, and -sometimes in the freer communities, with a handful of confetti or a -bunch of spring flowers flung in their faces, or perhaps the tap of a -light hand on their shoulders. - -Thus the thought of Fenella Stanley, steadily worn down in Victor's -mind, became more and more remote as time and distance separated -them, until at length there were moments when it seemed like a -shadowy memory. - -Stowell and Gell were two years away, and when they returned home the -old island seemed to them to have dwarfed and dwindled, the very -mountains looking small and squat, and the insular affairs, which had -once loomed large, to have become little, mean and almost foolish. - -"Now they'll get to work; you'll see they will," said Janet, and for -the first weeks it looked as if they would. - -For the better prosecution of their profession, as well as to remove -the sense of rivalry, they took chambers in different towns, Stowell -in Old Post Office Place in Ramsey, and Gell in Preaching House Lane -in Douglas---two outer rooms each for offices and two inner ones for -residential apartments. - -But having ordered their furniture and desks, inscribed their names -in brass on their door-posts ("VICTOR STOWELL, Advocate"), engaged -junior assistants to sit on high stools and take the names of the -clients who might call, and arranged for sleeping-out housekeepers to -attend to their domestic necessities (Victor's was a comfortable -elderly body, Mrs. Quayle, once a servant of his mother's at -Ballamoar, afterwards married to a fisherman, and then left a widow, -like so many of her class, when our hungry sea had claimed her man), -they made no attempt to practise, being too well off to take the -cases of petty larceny and minor misdemeanour which usually fall to -the High Bailiff's Court, and nobody offering them the cases proper -to the Deemster's. - -Those were the days of Bar dinners (social functions much in favour -with our unbriefed advocates), and one such function was held in -honour of the returned travellers. At this dinner Stowell, being the -principal speaker, gave a racy account of the worlds they had -wandered through, not forgetting the world of women--the sleepy -daintiness of the Japanese, the warm comeliness of the Italian, the -vivacious loveliness of the French, and above all, the frank -splendour of the American women, with their free step, their upturned -faces and their conquering eyes. - -That was felt by various young Manxmen to be a feast that could be -partaken of more than once, so a club was straightway founded for the -furtherance of such studies. It met once a week at Mount Murray, an -old house a few miles out of Douglas, in the middle of a forest of -oak and pine trees, now an inn, but formerly the home of a branch of -the Athols, when they were the Lords of Man, and kept a swashbuckler -court of half-pay officers who had come to end their days on the -island because the living and liquor were cheap. - -One room of this house, the dining-room, still remained as it used to -be when the old bloods routed and shouted there, though its -coat-of-arms was now discoloured by damp and its table was as -worm-eaten as their coffins must have been. And here it was that the -young bloods of the "Ellan Vannin" (the Isle of Man) held their -weekly revel--riding out in the early evening on their hired horses, -twenty or thirty together, sitting late over their cups and pipes, -and (the last toast drunk and the last story told) breaking up in the -dark of the morning, stumbling out to the front, where a line of -lanterns would be lining the path, the horses champing the gravel and -the sleepy stable-boys chewing their quids to keep themselves awake, -and then leaping into their saddles, singing their last song at the -full bellows of their lungs in the wide clearing of the firs to the -wondering sky, and galloping home, like so many Gilpins (as many of -them as were sober enough to get there at the same time as their -mounts) and clattering up the steep and stony streets of Douglas to -the scandal of its awakened inhabitants. - -Victor Stowell was president of the "Ellan Vannin," and in that -character he made one contribution to its dare-devil jollity, which -terminated its existence and led to other consequences more material -to this story. - - - -II - -In his heavy days at Ballamoar, before he went abroad, his father's -house had been like a dam to which the troubled waters of the island -flowed--the little jealousies and envies of the island community, the -bickerings of church and chapel, of town and country, of town and -town, not to speak of the darker maelstrom of more unworthy quarrels. -While the Deemster had moved through all this with his calm dignity -as the great mediator, the great pacifier, Victor with his quick -brain and wounded heart had stood by, seeing all and saying nothing. -But now, making a call upon his memory, for the amusement of his -fellow clubmen, out of sheer high spirits and with no thought of -evil, he composed a number of four-line "Limericks" on the big-wigs -of the island. - -Such scorching irony and biting satire had never been heard in the -island before. If any pompous or hypocritical person (by preference -a parson, a local preacher, a High Bailiff or a Key) had a dark -secret, which he would have given his soul's salvation not to have -disclosed, it was held up, under some thin disguise, to withering -ridicule. - -A long series of these reckless lampoons Victor fired off weekly over -the worm-eaten table at Mount Murray, to the delirious delight of the -clubmen, who, learning them by heart, carried them to their little -world outside, with the result that they ran over the island like a -fiery cross and set the Manx people aroar with laughter. - -The good and the unco' good were scandalized, but the victims were -scarified. And to put an end to their enemy, and terminate his -hostilities, these latter, laying their heads together to tar him -with his own brush, found a hopeful agency to their hand in the -person of a good-looking young woman of doubtful reputation called -Fanny, who kept a house of questionable fame in the unlit reaches of -the harbour south of the bridge. - -One early morning word went through the town like a searching wind -that Fanny's house had been raided by the police, in the middle of -the night, about the hour when the Clubmen usually clattered back to -Douglas. The raid had been intended to capture Stowell, but had -failed in its chief object--that young gentleman having gone on, when -some of his comrades had stopped, put up his horse at his -job-master's and proceeded to Gell's chambers where he slept on his -nights in town. Others of his company had also escaped by means of a -free fight, in which they had used their hunting crops and the police -their truncheons. But Alick Gell, with his supernatural capacity for -getting into a scrape, had been arrested and carried off, with Fanny -herself, to the Douglas lock-up. - -Next day these two were brought up in the Magistrate's Court, which -was presided over by his Worship the Colonel of the "Nunnery," a -worthy and dignified man, to whom the turn of recent events was -shocking. The old Court-house was crowded with the excited -townspeople, and as many of the Clubmen were present as dare show -their bandaged heads out of their bedrooms. - -When the case was called, and the two defendants entered the dock, -they made a grotesque and rather pitiful contrast--Gell in his tall, -slim, fair-haired gentlemanliness, and Fanny in her warm fat -comeliness, decked out in some gaudy finery which she had sent home -for, having been carried off in the night with streaming locks and -naked bosom. - -In the place of the Attorney-General, the prosecutor was a -full-bodied, elderly advocate named Hudgeon, who had been the subject -of one of the most withering of the lampoons. He opened with bitter -severity, spoke of the case as the worst of the kind the island had -known; referred to the "most unholy hour of the morning" which had -lately been selected for scenes of unseemly riot; said his "righteous -indignation" was roused at such disgraceful doings, and finally hoped -the Court would, for the credit of lawyers "hereafter" make an -example, "without respect of persons," of the representative of a -group of young roysterers, who were a disgrace to the law, and had -nothing better to do (so rumour and report were saying) than to -traduce the good names of their elders and betters. - -When he had examined the constables and closed his case it looked as -if Gell were in danger of Castle Rushen, and the consequent wrecking -of his career at the Bar, and that nothing was before Fanny but -banishment from the island, with such solace as the bribe of her -employers might bring her. - -But then, to a rustle of whispering, Stowell, who was in wig and gown -for the first time, got up for the defence. It had been expected -that he would do so, and many old advocates who had heard much of -him, had left their offices, and filled the advocates' box, to see -for themselves what mettle he was made of. - -They had not long to wait. In five minutes he had made such play -with his "learned friend's" "unholy hour of the morning," "his -righteous indignation" and his "hereafter" for lawyers (not without -reference to a traditional personage with horns and a fork) that the -merriment of the people in Court rose from a titter to a roar, which -the ushers were powerless to suppress. Again and again the writhing -prosecutor, with flaming face and foaming and spluttering mouth, -appealed in vain to the Bench, until at length, getting no -protection, and being lashed by a wit more cutting than a whip, he -gathered up his papers and, leaving the case to his clerk, fled from -the Court like an infuriated bat, saying he would never again set -foot in it. - -Then Stowell, calling back the constables, confused them, made them -contradict themselves, and each other, and step down at last like men -whose brains had fallen into their boots. After that he called Gell -and caused him to look like a harmless innocent who had strayed out -of a sheepfold into a shambles. And finally he called Fanny, and -getting quickly on the woman's side of her, he so coaxed and cajoled -and flattered and then frightened her, that she seemed to be on the -point of blurting out the whole plot, and giving away the names of -half the big men in the island. - -His Worship of the Nunnery closed up the case quickly, saying "young -men will be young men," but regretting that the eminent talents -exhibited in the defence were not being employed in the service of -the island. - -The Court-house emptied to a babel of talking and a burst of -irrepressible laughter, and that was the end of the "Ellan Vannin." -But the one ineffaceable effect of the incident, most material to -this story, was that Alick Gell, who was still as innocent as the -baby of a girl, had acquired a reputation for dark misdoings -(especially with women) whereof anything might be expected in the -future. - -After the insular newspapers had dwelt with becoming severity on this -aspect of the "distressing proceedings," the Speaker walked over in -full-bearded dignity to remonstrate with the Deemster. - -"Your son is dragging my lad down to the dirt," he said, "and before -long I shall not be able to show my face anywhere." - -"What do you wish me to do, Mr. Speaker?" asked the Deemster. - -"Do? Do? I don't know what I want you to do," said the Speaker. - -"I thought you didn't," said the Deemster, and then the full-bearded -dignity disappeared. - -Concerning Victor, although he had made the island laugh (the -shortest cut to popularity), opinions were widely divided. - -"There's only the breadth of a hair between that young man and a -scoundrel," said Hudgeon, the advocate. - -"Lave him rope and he'll hang himself," said Cæsar Qualtrough, from -behind his pipe in the smoking-room of the Keys. - -"Clever! Clever uncommon! But you'll see, you'll see," said the -Speaker. - -"I've not lost faith in that young fellow yet," said the Governor. -"Some great fact will awaken a sense of responsibility and make a man -of him." - -The great fact was not long in coming, but few could have foreseen -the source from which it came. - - - -III - -With the first breath of the first summer after their return to the -island Stowell and Gell went up into the glen to camp. They had no -tent; two hammocks swung from neighbouring trees served them for beds -and the horizontal boughs of other trees for wardrobes. - -There, for a long month, amidst the scent of the honeysuckle, the -gorse and the heather, and the smell of the bracken and the pine, -they fished, they shot, they smoked, they talked. Late in the -evening, after they had rolled themselves into their hammocks, they -heard the murmuring of the trees down the length of the glen, like -near and distant sea-waves, and saw, above the soaring pine-trunks, -the gleaming of the sky with its stars. As they shouted their last -"Good-night" to each other from the depths of their swaying beds the -dogs would be barking at Dan Baldromma's mill at the bottom of the -glen and the water would be plashing in the topmost fall of it. And -then night would come, perfect night, and the silence of unbroken -sleep. - -Awaking with the dawn they would see the last stars pale out and hear -the first birds begin to call; then the cock would crow at old Will -Skillicorne's croft on the "brough," the sheep would bleat in the -fields beyond, the squirrels would squeak in the branches over their -heads and the fish would leap in the river below. And then, as the -sun came striding down on them from the hilltops to the east, they -would tumble out of their hammocks, strip and plunge into the glen -stream--the deep, round, blue dubs of it, in which the glistening -water would lash their bodies like a living element. And then they -would run up to the headland (still in the state of nature) and race -over the heather like wild horses in the fresh and nipping air. - -They were doing this one midsummer morning when they had an -embarrassing experience, which, in the devious ways of destiny, was -not to be without its results. Flying headlong down the naked side -of the glen (for sake of the faster run) they suddenly became aware -of somebody coming up. It was a young woman in a sunbonnet. She was -driving four or five heifers to the mountain. Swishing a twig in her -hand and calling to her cattle, she was making straight for their -camping-place. - -The young men looked around, but there was no escape on any side, so -down they went full length on their faces in the long grass (how -short!) and buried their noses in the earth. - -In that position of blind helplessness, there was nothing to do but -wait until the girl and her cattle had passed, and hope to be -unobserved. They could hear the many feet of the heifers, the -flapping of their tails (the flies must be pestering them) and the -frequent calls of the girl. On she came, with a most deliberate -slowness, and her voice, which had been clear and sharp when she was -lower down the glen, seemed to them to have a gurgling note in it as -she came nearer to where they lay. - -"Come out of that, you gawk, and get along, will you?" she cried, and -Victor could not be quite sure that it was only the cattle she was -calling to. - -At one moment, when they thought the girl and the cattle must be very -close, there was a sickening silence, and then the young men -remembered their breeches which were hanging open over a bough and -their shirts which were dangling at the end of it. - -"Get up, stupid! What are you lying there for?" cried the girl, and -then came another swish of the twig and a further thudding of the -feet of the heifers. - -"The devil must be in that girl," thought Victor, and he would have -given something to look up, but dare not, so he lay still and -listened, telling himself that never before had two poor men been in -such an unfair and ridiculous predicament. - -At length the feet of the cattle sounded faint over the rippling of -the river, and the girl's voice thin through the pattering of the -leaves. And then the two sons of Adam rose cautiously from the -grass, slithered down the glen-side and slipped into the essential -part of their garments. - -Half-an-hour later, the lark being loud in the sky, and the world -astir and decent, they were cooking their breakfast (Gell holding a -frying-pan over a crackling gorse fire, and Stowell, in his -Wellington boots, striding about with a tea-pot) when they heard the -girl coming back. And being now encased in the close armour of their -clothes they felt that the offensive had changed its front and -stepped boldly forward to face her. - -She was a strapping girl of three or four and twenty, full-blooded -and full-bosomed, with coal-black hair and gleaming black eyes under -her sun-bonnet, which was turned back from her forehead, showing a -comely face of a fresh complexion, with eager mouth and warm red -lips. Her sleeves were rolled back above her elbows, leaving her -round arms bare and sun-brown; her woollen petticoat was tucked up, -at one side, into her waist, and as she came swinging down the glen -with a jaunty step, her hips moved, with her whole body, to a rhythm -of health and happiness. - -"Attractive young person, eh?" said Victor. - -But Gell, after a first glance, went back without a word to his -frying-pan, leaving his comrade, who was still carrying his teapot, -to meet the girl, who came on with an unconcerned and unconscious -air, humming to herself at intervals, as if totally unaware of the -presence of either of them. - -"Nice morning, miss," said Victor, stepping out into the path. - -The girl made a start of surprise, looked him over from head to foot, -glanced at his companion, whose face was to the fire, recognised -both, smiled and answered: - -"Yes, Sir, nice, very nice." - -Then followed a little fencing, which was intended by Victor to find -out if the girl had seen them. - -Came up this way a while ago, didn't she? Aw, yes, she did, to take -last year's heifers to graze on the mountains. Seen anything -hereabouts--that is to say on the tops? Aw, no, nothing at all--had -he? Well, yes, he thought he'd seen something running on the ridge -just over the waterfall. - -The girl gave him a deliberate glance from her dark eyes, then -dropped them demurely and said, with an innocent air, - -"Must have been some of the young colts broken out of the top field, -I suppose." - -"That's all right," thought Victor, not knowing the ways of women -though he thought himself so wise in them. - -After that, feeling braver, he began to make play with the girl, -asking her how far she had come, and if she wouldn't be lonesome -going back without company. - -She looked at him quizzically for a moment, and then said, with her -eyes full of merriment, - -"What sort of company, sir?" - -"Well, mine for instance," he answered. - -She laughed, a fresh and merry laugh from her throat, and said, - -"You daren't come home with me, Sir." - -"Why daren't I?" - -"You'd be afraid of father. He's not used of young men coming about -the place, and he'd frighten the life out of you." - -Victor put down his tea-pot and made a stride forward. "Come -on--where is he?" - -But the girl swung away, with another laugh, crying over her shoulder, - -"Aw, no, no, plaze, plaze!" - -"Ah, then it's you that are afraid, eh?" said Victor. - -"It's not that," replied the girl. - -"What is it?" said Victor. - -She gave him another deliberate glance from her dark eyes--he thought -he could feel the warm glow of her body across the distance dividing -them--and said, - -"The old man might be sending somebody else up with the heifers next -time, and then...." - -"What then?" - -She laughed again with eyes full of mischief, and seemed to prepare -to fly. - -"Then maybe I'd be missing seeing something," she said, and shot away -at a bound. - -Victor stood for a moment looking down the glen. - -"God, what a girl!" he said. "I've a good mind to go after her." - -"I shouldn't if I were you," said Gell. "You know who she is?" - -"Who?" - -"Bessie Collister." - -"The little thing who was in Castletown?" - -"Yes." - -"Then I suppose she belongs to you?" - -"Not a bit. I haven't spoken to her from that day to this," said -Gell, and then he told of the promise he had made to his father. - -"But Lord alive, that was when you were a lad." - -"Maybe so, but 'as long as you live'--that was the word, and I mean -to keep it. Besides, there's Dan Baldromma." - -"That blatherskite?" said Victor. - -"He'd be an ugly customer if anything went wrong, you know." - -"But, good Lord, man, what is going to go wrong?" - -When they had finished breakfast and Gell was washing up at the -water's edge, Victor was on a boulder, looking down the glen again, -and saying, as if to himself, - -"My God, what a girl, though! Such lips, such flesh, such...." - -"I say, old fellow!" cried Gell. - -Victor leapt down and laughed to cover his confusion. - -"Well, why not? We're all creatures of earth, aren't we?" - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - -THE DAY OF TEMPTATION - -Fenella Stanley had been two and a half years at the head of the -Women's Settlement. Her work as Lady Warden had been successful. It -had been a great, human, palpitating experience. There were days, -and even weeks, when she felt that it had brought her a little nearer -to the soul of the universe and helped her to touch hands across the -ages with the great women who had walked through Gethsemane for the -poor, despoiled and despairing victims of their own sex. - -But nevertheless it had left her with a certain restlessness which at -first she found it hard to understand. Only little by little did she -come to realise that nature, with its almighty voice, was calling to -her, and that under all the thrill of self-sacrifice she was -suffering from the gnawing hunger of an underfed heart. - -The seven years that had passed since her last visit to the island -had produced their physical effects. From a slim and beautiful -school-girl she had developed into a full and splendid woman. When -the ladies of her Committee (matrons chiefly) saw the swing of her -free step and the untamed glance of her eye they would say, - -"She's a fine worker, but we shall never be able to keep her--you'll -see we shall not." - -And as often as the men of the Committee (clergymen generally, but -manly persons, for the most part, not too remote from the facts of -life) came within range of the glow and flame of her womanhood, they -would think, - -"That splendid girl ought to become the mother of children." - -During the first year of her wardenship her chief touch with home -(her father being estranged) had been through correspondence with his -housekeeper. Miss Green's letters were principally about the -Governor, but they contained a good deal about Victor Stowell also. -Victor had been called to the Bar, but for some reason which nobody -could fathom he seemed to have lost heart and hope and the Deemster -had sent him round the world. - -Fenella found herself tingling with a kind of secret joy at this -news. She was utterly ashamed of the impulse to smile at the thought -of Victor's sufferings, yet do what she would she could not conquer -it. - -Her tours abroad with her father had ceased by this time, but in her -second year at the Settlement she took holiday with a girl friend, -going through Switzerland and Italy and as far afield as Egypt. -During that journey fate played some tantalizing pranks with her. - -The first of them was at Cairo, where, going into Cook's, to enter -her name for a passage to Italy, her breath was almost smitten out of -her body by the sight of Victor's name, in his own bold handwriting, -in the book above her own--he had that day sailed for Naples. - -The second was at Naples itself (she would have died rather than -admit to herself that she was following him), where she saw his name -again, with Alick Gell's, in the Visitors' List, and being a young -woman of independent character, marched up to his hotel to ask for -him--he had gone on to Rome. - -The third, and most trying, was in the railway station at Zurich, -where stepping out of the train from Florence she collided on the -crowded platform with the Attorney-General and his comfortable old -wife from the Isle of Man, and was told that young Stowell and young -Gell had that moment left by train for Paris. - -But back in London she found her correspondence with Miss Green even -more intoxicating than before, and every new letter seemed like a -hawser drawing her home. Victor Stowell had returned to the island, -but he was not showing much sign of settling to work. He seemed to -have no aim, no object, no ambition. In fact it was the common -opinion that the young man was going steadily to the dogs. - -"So if you ever had any thoughts in that direction, dear," said Miss -Green, "what a lucky escape you had (though we didn't think so at the -time) when you signed on at the Settlement!" - -But the conquering pull of the hawser that was dragging her home came -in the letters of Isabella Gell, with whom she had always kept up a -desultory correspondence. - -The Deemster was failing fast ("and no wonder!"); and Janet Curphey, -who had been such a bustling body, was always falling asleep over her -needles; and the Speaker (after a violent altercation in the Keys) -had had a profuse bleeding at the nose, which Dr. Clucas said was to -be taken as a warning. - -But the only exciting news in the island just now was about Victor -Stowell. Really, he was becoming impossible! Not content with -making her brother Alick the scapegoat of his own misdoings in a -disgraceful affair of some sort (her father had forbidden Alick the -house ever since, and her mother was always moping with her feet -inside the fender), he was behaving scandalously. A good-looking -woman couldn't pass him on the road without his eyes following her! -Any common thing out of a thatched cottage, if she only had a pretty -face, was good enough for him now!! The simpletons!! Perhaps they -expected him to marry them, and give them his name and position? But -not he!! Indeed no!! And heaven pity the poor girl of a better -class who ever took him for a husband!!! - -Fenella laughed--seeing through the feminine spitefulness of these -letters as the sun sees through glass. So mistress Isabella herself -had been casting eyes in that direction! What fun! She had visions -of the Gell girls having differences among themselves about Victor -Stowell. The idea of his marrying any of them, and keeping step for -the rest of his life with the conventions of the Gell family, was too -funny for anything. - -But those Manx country girls, with their black eyes and eager mouths, -were quite a different proposition. Fenella had visions of them -also, fresh as milk and warm as young heifers, watching for Victor at -their dairy doors or from the shade of the apple trees in their -orchards, and before she was aware of what was happening to her she -was aflame with jealousy. - -That Isabella Gell was a dunce! It was nonsense to say that the Manx -country girls out of the thatched cottages expected Victor to marry -them. Of course they didn't, and neither did they want his name or -his position. What they really wanted was Victor himself, to flirt -with and flatter them and make love to them, perhaps. But good -gracious, what a shocking thing! That should never happen--never -while she was about! - -Of course this meant that she must go back to save Victor. Naturally -she could not expect to do so over a blind distance of three hundred -miles, while those Manx country girls in their new Whitsuntide hats -were shooting glances at him every Sunday in Church, or perhaps -hanging about for him on week-evenings, in their wicked sun-bonnets, -and even putting up their chins to be kissed in those shady lanes at -the back of Ballamoar, when the sun would be softening, and the -wood-pigeons would be cooing, and things would be coming together for -the night. - -That settled matters! Her womanhood was awake by this time. Seven -years of self-sacrifice had not been sufficient to quell it. After a -certain struggle, and perhaps a certain shame, she put in her -resignation. - -Her Committee did not express as much surprise as she had expected. -The ladies hoped her native island would provide a little world, a -little microcosm, in which she could still carry on her work for -women, (she had given that as one of her excuses), and the gentlemen -had no doubt her father, "and others," would receive her back "with -open arms." - -She was to leave the Settlement at the close of the half year, that -is to say at the end of July, but she decided to say nothing, either -to her father or to Miss Green, about her return to the island until -the time came for it at the beginning of August. - -She was thinking of Victor again, and cherishing a secret hope of -taking him unawares somewhere--of giving him another surprise, such -as she gave him that day in the glen, when he came down bareheaded, -with the sea wind in his dark hair, and then stopped suddenly at the -sight of her, with that entrancing look of surprise and wonder. - -And if any of those Manx country girls were about him when that -happened .... Well, they would disappear like a shot. Of course they -would! - - - -II - -Meantime, another woman was hearing black stories about Victor, and -that was Janet. She believed them, she disbelieved them, she dreaded -them as possibilities and resented them as slanders. But finally she -concluded that, whether they were true or false, she must tell Victor -all about them. - -Yet how was she to do so? How put a name to the evil things that -were being said of him--she who had been the same as a mother to him -all the way up since he was a child, and held him in her arms for his -christening? - -For weeks her soft heart fought with her maidenly modesty, but at -length her heart prevailed. She could not see her dear boy walk -blindfold into danger. Whatever the consequences she must speak to -him, warn him, stop him if necessary. - -But where and when and how was she to do so? To write was impossible -(nobody knew what might become of a letter) and Victor had long -discontinued his week-end visits to Ballamoar. - -One day the Deemster told her to prepare a room for the Governor who -was coming to visit him, and seizing her opportunity she said, - -"And wouldn't it be nice to ask Victor to meet him, your Honour?" - -The Deemster paused for a moment, then bowed his head and answered, - -"Do as you please, Miss Curphey." - -Five minutes afterwards Janet was writing in hot haste to Ramsey. - -"He is to come on Saturday, dear, but mind you come on Friday, so -that I may have you all to myself for a while before the great men -take you from me." - -Victor came on Friday evening and found Janet alone, the Deemster -being away for an important Court and likely to sleep the night in -Douglas. She was in her own little sitting-room--a soft, cushiony -chamber full of embroidered screens and pictures of himself as a -child worked out in coloured silk. A tea-tray, ready laid, was on a -table by her side, and she rose with a trembling cry as he bounded in -and kissed her. - -Tea was a long but tremulous joy to her, and by the time it was over -the darkness was gathering. The maid removed the tray and was about -to bring in a lamp, but Janet, being artful, said: - -"No, Jane, not yet. It would be a pity to shut out this lovely -twilight. Don't you think so, dear?" - -Victor agreed, not knowing what was coming, and for an hour longer -they sat at opposite sides of the table, with their faces to the -lawn, while the rooks cawed out their last congress, and the thrush -sang its last song, and Janet talked on indifferent matters--whether -Mrs. Quayle (his sleeping-out housekeeper) was making him comfortable -at Ramsey, and if Robbie Creer should not be told to leave butter and -fresh eggs for him on market-day. - -But when, the darkness having deepened, there was no longer any -danger that Victor could see her face, Janet (trembling with fear of -her nursling now that he had grown to be a man) plunged into her -tragic subject. - -People were talking and talking. The Manx ones were terrible for -talking. Really, it ought to be possible to put the law on people -who talked and talked. - -"Who are they talking about now, Janet? Is it about me?" said Victor. - -"Well, yes .... yes, it's about you, dear." - -Oh, nothing serious, not to say serious! Just a few flighty girls -boasting about the attentions he was paying them. And then older -people, who ought to know better, gibble-gabbling about the dangers -to young women--as if the dangers to young men were not greater, -sometimes far greater. - -"Not that I don't sympathise with the girls," said Janet, "living -here, poor things, on this sandy headland, while the best of the Manx -boys are going away to America, year after year, and never a man -creature younger than their fathers and grandfathers about to pass -the time of day with, except the heavy-footed omathauns that are -left." - -What wonder that when a young man of another sort came about, and -showed them the courtesy a man always shows to a woman, whatever she -is, when he is a gentleman born--just a smile, or a nod, or a kind -word on the road, or the lifting of his hat, or a hand over a stile -perhaps--what wonder if the poor foolish young things began to dream -dreams and see visions. - -"But that's just where the danger comes in, dear," said Janet. "Oh, -I'm a woman myself, and I was young once, you know, and perhaps I -remember how the heavens seem to open for a girl when she thinks two -eyes look at her with love, and she feels as if she could give -herself away, with everything she is or will be, and care nothing for -the future. But only think what a terrible thing it would be if some -simple girl of that sort got into trouble on your account." - -"Don't be afraid of that, Janet," said Victor in a low voice. "No -girl in the island, or in the world either, has ever come to any harm -through me--or ever will do." - -There came the sound of a faint gasp in the darkness, and then Janet -cried: - -"God bless you for saying that, dear! I knew you would! And don't -think your silly old Janet believed the lying stories they told of -you. 'Deed no, that she didn't and never will do, never! But all -the same a young man can't be too careful!" - -There were bad girls about also--real scheming, designing huzzies! -Some of them were good-looking young vixens too, for it wasn't the -good ones only that God made beautiful. And when a man was young and -handsome and clever and charming and well-off and had all the world -before him, they threw themselves in his way, and didn't mind what -disgrace they got into if they could only compel him to marry them. - -"But think of a slut like that coming to live as mistress here--here -in the house of Isobel Stowell!" - -Then the men folk of such women were as bad as they were. There was -a wicked, lying, evil spirit abroad these days that Jack was as good -as his master, and if you were up you had to be pulled down, and if -you were big you had to be made little. - -"Only think what a cry these people would make if anything happened," -said Janet, "wrecking your career perhaps, and making promotion -impossible." - -"Don't be afraid of that either, Janet. I can take care of myself, -you know." - -"So you can, dear," said Janet, "but then think of your father. -Forty years a judge, and not a breath of scandal has ever touched -him! But that's just why some of these dirts would like to destroy -him, calling to him in the Courts themselves, perhaps, with all the -dirty tongues at them, to come down from the judgment-seat and set -his own house in order." - -"My father can take care of himself, too, Janet," said Victor. - -"I know, dear, I know," said Janet. "But think what he'll suffer if -any sort of trouble falls on his son! More, far more, than if it -fell on himself. That's the way with fathers, isn't it? Always has -been, I suppose, since the days of David. Do you remember his -lamentations over his son Absalom? I declare I feel fit enough to -cry in Church itself whenever the Vicar reads it: 'O my son Absalom! -Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son.'" - -There was silence for a moment, for Victor found it difficult to -speak, and then Janet began to plead with him in the name of his -family also. - -"The Deemster is seventy years old now," she said, "and he has four -hundred years of the Ballamoars behind him, and there has never been -a stain on the name of any of them. That's always been a kind of -religion in your family, hasn't it--that if a man belongs to the -breed of the Ballamoars he will do the right--he can be trusted? -That's something to be born to, isn't it? It seems to me it is more -worth having than all the jewels and gold and titles and honours the -world has in it. Oh, my dear, my dear, you know what your father is; -he'll say nothing, and you haven't a mother to speak to you; so don't -be vexed with your old Janet who loves you, and would die for you, if -she could save you from trouble and disgrace; but think what a -terrible, fearful, shocking thing it would be for you, and for your -father, and for your family, and .... yes, for the island itself if -anything should happen now." - -"Nothing _shall_ happen--I give you my word for that, Janet," said -Victor. - -"God bless you!" said Janet, and rising and reaching over in the -darkness she kissed him--her face was wet. - -After that she laughed, in a nervous way, and said she wasn't a -Puritan either, like some of the people in those parts whom she saw -on Sunday mornings, walking from chapel in their chapel hats, after -preaching and praying against "carnal transgression" and "bodily -indulgence" and "giving way to the temptations of the flesh"--as if -they hadn't as many children at home as there were chickens in a -good-sized hen-roost. - -"Young men are young men and girls are girls," said Janet, "and some -of these Manx girls are that pretty and smart that they are enough to -tempt a saint. And if David was tempted by the beauty of -Bathsheba--and we're told he was a man after God's own heart--what -better can the Lord expect of poor lads these days who are making no -such pretensions?" - -She was only an old maid herself, but she supposed it was natural for -a young man to be tempted by the beauty of a young woman, or the Lord -wouldn't have allowed it to go on so long. But the moral of that was -that it was better for a man to marry. - -"So find a good woman and marry her, dear. The Deemster will be -delighted, having only yourself to follow him yet. And as for you," -she added (her voice was breaking again), "you may not think it now, -being so young and strong, but when you are as old as I am .... and -feeling feebler every year .... and you are looking to the dark day -that is coming .... and no one of your own to close your eyes for you -.... only hired servants, or strangers, perhaps...." - -It was Victor's turn to rise now, and to stop her speaking by taking -her in his arms. After a moment, not without a tremor in his own -voice also, he said, - -"I shall never marry, and you know why, Janet. But neither will I -bring shame on my father, or stain my name, as God is my help and -witness." - -The rooks were silent in the elms by this time, but the gong was -sounding in the hall, so, laughing and crying together, and with all -her trouble gone like chased clouds, Janet ran off to her room to -wipe her eyes and fix her cap before showing her face at supper. - - - -III - -Next morning the Deemster returned from Douglas, and in the -afternoon, the Governor arrived. They took tea on the piazza, the -days being long and the evenings warm. - -The Deemster was uneasy about the case they had tried the day before, -and talked much about it. A farmer had killed a girl on his farm -after every appearance of gross ill-usage. The crime and the motive -had been clear and therefore the law could show no clemency. But -there had been external circumstances which might have affected the -man's conduct. Down to ten years before he had been a right-living -man, clean and sober and honest and even religious. Then he had been -thrown by a young horse and kicked on the head and had had to undergo -an operation. After he came out of the hospital his whole character -was found to have changed. He had become drunken, dishonest, a -sensualist and a foul-mouthed blasphemer, and finally he had -committed the crime for which he now stood condemned. - -"It makes me tremble to think of it," said the Deemster, "that a mere -physical accident, a mere chance, or a mere spasm of animal instinct, -may cause any of us at any time to act in a way that is utterly -contrary to our moral character and most sincere resolutions." - -"It's true, though," said the Governor, "and it doesn't require the -kick of a horse to make a man act in opposition to his character. -The loudest voice a man hears is the call of his physical nature, and -law and religion have just got to make up their minds to it." - -Next morning, Sunday morning, they went to church. Janet drove in -the carriage by way of the high road, but the three men walked down -the grassy lane at the back, which, with its gorse hedges on either -side, looked like a long green picture in a golden frame. The -Deemster, who walked between the Governor and Victor, was more than -usually bent and solemn. He had had an anonymous letter about his -son that morning--he had lately had shoals of them. - -The morning was warm and quiet; the clover fields were sleeping in -the sunlight to the lullaby of the bees; the slumberous mountains -behind were hidden in a palpitating haze, and against the broad -stretch of the empty sea in front stood the gaunt square tower from -which the far-off sound of the church bells was coming. - -Nowhere in the island could they have found a more tragic -illustration of the law of life they had talked about the evening -before than in the person of the Vicar of the Church they were going -to. - -His name was Cowley, and down to middle life he had been all that a -clergyman should be. But then he had lost a son under circumstances -of tragic sorrow. The boy had been threatened with a consumption, so -the father had sent him to sea, and going to town to meet him on his -return to the island, he had met his body instead, as it was being -brought ashore from his ship, which was lying at anchor in the bay. - -The sailors had said that at sight of them and their burthen, Parson -Cowley had fallen to the stones of Ramsey harbour like a dead man, -and it was long before they could bring him to, or staunch the wound -on his forehead. What is certain is that after his recovery he began -to drink, and that for fifteen years he had been an inveterate -drunkard. - -This had long been a cause of grief and perhaps of shame to his -parishioners; but it had never lessened their love of him, for they -knew that in all else he was still a true Christian. If any lone -"widow man" lay dying in his mud cabin on the Curragh, Parson Cowley -would be there to sit up all the night through with him; and if any -barefooted children were going to bed hungry in the one-roomed hovel -that was their living-room, sleeping-room, birth-room and death-room -combined, Parson Cowley would be seen carrying them the supper from -his own larder. - -But his weakness had become woeful, and after a shocking moment in -which he had staggered and fallen before the altar, a new Bishop, who -knew nothing of the origin of his infirmity, and was only conscious -of the scandal of it, had threatened that if the like scene ever -occurred again he would not only forbid him to exercise his office, -but call upon the Governor (in whose gift it was) to remove him from -his living. - -The bells were loud when the three men reached the white-washed -church on the cliff, with the sea singing on the beach below it, and -Illiam Christian, the shoemaker and parish clerk, standing bareheaded -at the bottom of the outside steps to the tower to give warning to -the bell-ringers that the Governor had arrived. - -In expectation of his visit the church was crowded, and with Victor -going first to show the way, the Governor next, and the Deemster -last, with his white head down, the company from Ballamoar walked up -the aisle to the family pew, in which Janet, in her black silk -mantle, was already seated. - -The Deemster's pew was close to the communion rails, and horizontal -to the church with the reading-desk and pulpit in the open space in -front of it, and a marble tablet on the wall behind, containing the -names of a long line of the Ballamoars, going as far back as the -sixteenth century. - -The vestry was at the western end of the church, under the tower, and -as soon as the bells stopped and the clergy came out, it was seen -that the Vicar was far from sober. Nevertheless he kept himself -erect while coming through the church behind his choir and curate, -and tottered into the carved chair within the rail of the communion. - -The curate took the prayers, and might have taken the rest of the -service also, but the Vicar, thinking his duty compelled him to take -his part in the presence of the Governor, rose to read the lessons. -With difficulty he reached the reading-desk, which was close to the -Deemster's pew, and opened the Book and gave out the place. But -hardly had he begun, in a husky and indistinct voice, with "Here -beginneth the first chapter of the Second Book of Samuel" (for it was -the sixth Sunday after Trinity) when he stopped as if unable to go -farther. - -For a moment he fumbled with his spectacles, taking them off and -wiping them on the sleeve of his surplice, and then he began afresh. -But scarcely had he said, in a still thicker voice, "Now it came to -pass" .... when he stopped again, as if the words of the Book before -him had run into each other and become an unreadable jumble. - -After that he looked helplessly about him for an instant, as if -wondering what to do. Then he grasped the reading-desk with his two -trembling hands, and the perspiration was seen to be breaking in -beads from his forehead. - -A breathless silence passed over the church. The congregation saw -what was happening, and dropped their heads, as if knowing that for -their beloved old Vicar this (before the eyes of the Governor) was -the end of everything. - -But suddenly they became aware that something was happening. -Quietly, noiselessly, almost before they were conscious of what he -was doing, Victor Stowell, who had been sitting at the end of the -Deemster's pew, had risen, stepped across to the reading-desk, put a -soft hand on the Vicar's arm, and was reading the lesson for him. - - - "_Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and - in their death they were not divided .... I am distressed for - thee, my brother Jonathan; thy love to me was wonderful, passing - the love of women._" - - -People who were there that morning said afterwards that never before -had the sublime lament of the great King, the great warrior and the -great poet, for his dead friend and dead enemy been read as it was -read that day by the young voice, so rich and resonant, that was -ringing through the old church. - -But it was not that alone that was welling through every bosom. It -was the thrilling certainty that out of the greatness of his heart -the son of the Deemster (of whom too many of them had been talking -ill) had covered the nakedness of the poor stricken sinner who had -sunk back in his surplice to a seat behind him. - -When the service was over, and the clergy had returned to the vestry, -the congregation remained standing until the Governor had left the -church. But nobody looked at him now, for all eyes were on the two -who followed him--the Deemster and Victor. - -The Deemster had taken his son's arm as he stepped out of his pew, -and as he walked down the aisle, through the lines of his people, his -head was up and his eyes were shining. - -"Did thou see that, Mistress?" said Robbie Creer, in triumphant tones -to Janet Curphey, as she was stepping back, with a beaming face, into -her carriage at the gate. - -"Thou need have no fear of thy lad, I tell thee. _The Ballamoar will -out!_" - -But the day of temptation was coming, and too soon it came. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - -THE CALL OF BESSIE COLLISTER - -It was the first Saturday in August, when the throbbing and thunging -of the vast machinery of the mills and factories of the English -industrial counties comes to a temporary stop, and for three days at -least, tens of thousands of its servers, male and female, pour into -the island for health and holiday. - -Stowell and Gell had never yet seen the inrushing of the liberated -ones, so with no other thought, and little thinking what fierce game -fate was playing with them, they had come into Douglas that day, in -flannels and straw hats, in eager spirits and with high steps, to -look on its sights and scenes. - -It was late afternoon, and they made first for the pier, where a -crowd of people had already assembled to witness the arrival of an -incoming steamer. - -She was densely crowded. Every inch of her deck seemed to be packed -with passengers, chiefly young girls, as the young men thought, some -of them handsome, many of them pretty, all of them comely. With -sparkling eyes and laughing mouths they shouted their salutations to -their friends on the pier, while they untied the handkerchiefs which -they had bound about their heads to keep down their hair in the -breeze on the sea, and pinned on their hats before landing. - -The young men found the scene delightful. A little crude, perhaps a -little common, even a little coarse, but still delightful. - -Then they walked along the promenade, and that, too, was crowded. -From the water's edge to the round hill-tops at the back of the town, -every thoroughfare seemed to be thrilling with joyous activity. -Hackney carriages, piled high with luggage and higher still with -passengers, were sweeping round the curve of the bay; windows and -doors were open and filled with faces, and the whole sea-front, from -end to end, seemed to be as full of women's eyes as a midnight sky of -stars. - -For tea they went up to Castle Mona--a grave-looking mansion in the -middle of the bay, built for a royal residence by one of the Earls of -Derby when they were lords of Man before the Athols, but now declined -to the condition of an hotel for English visitors, with its wooded -slopes to the sea (wherein more than one of our old Manx Kings may -have pondered the problems of his island kingdom), transformed into a -public tea-garden, on which pretty women were sitting under coloured -sunshades and a string band from London was playing the latest airs -from Paris. - -The young men took a table at the seaward end of the lawn, with the -rowing boats skimming the fringe of the water in front, the white -yachts scudding across the breast of the bay, the brown-sailed -luggers dropping out of the harbour with the first flood of the -flowing tide; and then the human tide of joyous life running fast on -the promenade below--girls chiefly, as they thought, usually in white -frocks, white stockings and white shoes, skipping along like human -daisy-chains with their arms entwined about each other's waists, and -sometimes turning their heads over their shoulders to look up at them -and laugh. - -The sun went down behind the hills at the back of the town, the -string band stopped, the coloured sunshades disappeared, the gong was -sounded from the hall of the hotel and they went indoors for dinner. - -They sat by an open window of the stately dining-room (wherein our -old Earls and their Countesses once kept court), and being in higher -spirits than ever by this time, they ate of every dish that was put -before them, drank a bottle of champagne, toasted each other and -every pretty woman they could remember of the many they had seen that -day ("Here's to that fine girl with the black eyes who was standing -by the funnel"), and looked at intervals at the scenes outside until -the light failed and the darkness claimed them. - -At one moment they saw the dark hull of another steamer, lit up in -every port-hole, gliding towards the pier, and at the next (or what -seemed like the next), shooting across the white sheet of light from -the uncovered windows of their dining-room, a large blue landau, -drawn by a pair of Irish bays, driven by a liveried coachman. Gell -leapt up to look at it. - -"Vic," he cried, "I think that must be the Governor's carriage." - -"It is," said Stowell. - -"And that's the Governor himself inside of it." - -"No doubt." - -"And the lady sitting beside him is .... yes, no .... yes ..... upon -my soul I believe it was his daughter." - -"Impossible," said Stowell, and, remembering what Janet had told him, -he thought no more of the matter. - -They returned to the lawn to smoke after dinner, and then the sky was -dark and the stars had begun to appear; the tide was up but the sea -was silent; the rowing-boats were lying on the shingle of the beach; -the yachts were at anchor in the bay; the last of the fishing-boats, -each with a lamp in its binnacle, were doubling the black brow of the -head, and from the farthest rock of it the revolving light in the -lighthouse was sweeping the darkness from the face of the town as -with an illuminated fan. The young men were enraptured. It was -wonderful! It was enchanting! It was like walking on the terrace at -Monte Carlo! - - -Then suddenly, as at the striking of a clock, the town itself began -to flame. One by one the façades of the theatres and dancing palaces -that lined the front were lit up by electricity. It raced along like -ignited gunpowder and in a few minutes the broad curve of the bay -from headland to headland, was sparkling and blazing under ten -thousand lights. - -It was now the beginning of night in the little gay town. The young -men could hear the creak of the iron turn-stile to one of the -dancing-halls near at hand, and the shuffling of the feet of the -multitudes who were passing through it, and then, a few minutes -later, the muffled music of the orchestra and the deadened drumming -of the dancing within. - -That was more than they could bear, in their present state of -excitement, without taking part in the scene of it, so within five -minutes more, they were passing through the turn-stile themselves and -hurrying down a tunnel of trees, lit up by coloured lamps, to the -open door of the dancing-hall--deep in a dark garden which seemed to -sleep in shadow on either side of them. - -The vast place, decorated in gold and domed with glass, was crowded, -but going up into the gallery the young men secured seats by the -front rail and were able to look down. What a spectacle! Never -before, they thought, though they had travelled round the world, had -they seen anything to compare with it. To the clash of the brass -instruments and the boom of the big drums, five thousand young men -and young women were dancing on the floor below. Most of the men -wore flannels and coloured waist-scarves, and most of the girls were -in muslin and straw hats. They were only the workers from the mills -and factories of Lancashire and Yorkshire, but the flush of the sun -and the sea was in their faces and the joy and health of young life -was in their blood. - -Stowell felt himself becoming giddy. Waves of perfume were floating -up to him, with the warmth of women's bright eyes, red lips and -joyous laughter. His nerves were quivering; his pulses were beating -with a pounding rush. He was beginning to feel afraid of himself and -he had an almost irresistable impulse to get up and go. - - - -II - -One other person important to this story had come to Douglas that -day--Bessie Collister. During the first three years after her return -home from Castletown she had lived in physical fear of Dan Baldromma; -but during the next three years, having grown big and strong and -become useful on the farm, she had been more than able to hold her -own with him, and he had even been compelled to pay her wages. - -"I don't know in the world what's coming over the girls," he would -say. "In my young days they were content with priddhas and herrings -three times a day, and welcome, but nothing will do now, if it's your -own daughter itself, but ten pounds a year per annum, and as much -loaf bread and butcher's mate as would fill the inside of a lime -kiln." - -"Aw, but the girl's smart though," Mrs. Collister would answer. - -"I'm saying nothing against her," Dan would reply. "A middling good -girl enough, and handy with the bases, but imperent grown--imperent -uncommon and bad with the tongue." - -There was scarcely a farmer on the island who would not have given -Bessie twice the wages Dan paid her, but she remained at home, partly -for reasons of her own and partly to protect her mother from Dan's -brutalities by holding over his head the threat of leaving him. - -Mrs. Collister, who had been stricken with sciatica and was hobbling -about on a stick, had by this time taken refuge from her life-long -martyrdom in religion, having joined the "Primitives," whose chapel -(a whitewashed barn) stood at the opposite angle of the glen and the -high road. She had tried to induce her daughter to follow her there, -but Bessie had refused, having come to the conclusion that the -"locals" on the "plan-beg," whose favourite subject was the -crucifixion of the flesh, were always preaching at her mother, or -pointing at her. - -So on Sunday mornings when the church bells were ringing across the -Curragh, and the chapel-going women of the parish were going by with -their hymn-books in their handkerchiefs, and old Will Skillicorne, -who was a class-leader, was coming down from his thatched cottage in -his tall beaver, black frock coat and black kid gloves, Bessie, in -her sunbonnet and a pair of Dan's old boots, and with her skirt -tucked up over her linsey-wolsey petticoat, would be seen feeding the -pigs or washing out a bowl of potatoes at the pump. - -And on Sunday evenings, while the Primitives were singing a hymn -outside their chapel before going in for service, she would be -tripping past, lightly shod, and wearing a hat with an ostrich -feather, on her way to town, where a German band played sacred music -on the promenade, and young people, walking arm-in-arm, laughed and -"glimed" at each other under the gas-light. - -"I wonder at herself though, bringing up her daughter like a haythen -in a Christian land," old Will would say. "But then what can you -expect from a child of sin and a son of Belial"--the latter being a -dig at Dan, whose lusty voice could always be heard over the singing, -reading aloud to himself in the kitchen the "Rights of Man" or "The -Mistakes of Moses." - -Bessie was a full-developed and warm-blooded woman by this time, -living all day and every day in the natural world of the farmyard, -ready to break loose at the first touch of the hand of a live man if -only he were the right one, and having no better relief for the fever -of her womanhood than an occasional dance in the big barn at Kirk -Michael Fair. - -But then came her adventure with Stowell and Gell in the glen and it -altered everything. Running down in her excitement she told her -mother what had happened, and her mother, in a moment of tenderness, -told Dan, and Dan, in the impurity of his heart, drew his own -conclusions. - -"It's the Spaker's son again," he said, making a noise in his -nostrils. - -The young men had camped out there expressly to meet Bessie, and it -wasn't the first time the girl had gone up to them. - -"Goodness sakes, man veen, how do thou know that? And what's the -harm done anyway?" said Mrs. Collister. - -"Wait and see what's the harm, woman. Girls is not to trust when a -wastrel like that is about. We've known it before now, haven't we?" - -To one other person Bessie told the story of the glen, and that was -her chief friend, Susie Stephen, the English barmaid at the Ginger -Hall Inn--a girl of fair complexion and some good looks who had -shocked the young wives of the parish by wearing short frocks, -transparent stockings and a blouse cut low over the bosom. - -It was at closing-time a few nights after the event, and as the girls -stood whispering together by the half-open door, with the lights put -out in the bar behind them, they squealed with laughter, laid hold of -each other and shuddered. - -The young men had gone from the glen by that time, but the August -holidays were coming, so they decided to go up to Douglas on the -Saturday following to dance off their excitement. - -At five o'clock that day, having milked her cows, and given a drink -of meal and water to her calves, Bessie was in her bedroom making -ready for her journey. - -It was a stuffy little one-eyed chamber over the dairy, entered from -the first landing of the stairs, open to the whitewashed scraas -(which gave it a turfy odour), having a skylight in the thatch, a -truckle bed, a deal table for wash-stand and a few dried sheepskins -on the floor for rugs. - -Bessie threw off the big unlaced boots and the other garments of the -cow-house, kicking the one into a corner and throwing the others in a -disorderly mass on to the bed over her pink-and-white sunbonnet, -washed to the waist and then folded her arms over each other in their -warmth and roundness and laughed to herself in sheer joy of bounding -health and conscious beauty. - -While doing so she heard her step-father's voice in the kitchen -below, loud as usual and as full of protest, but she had a matter of -more moment to think of now--what to wear out of her scanty wardrobe. - -The question was easily decided. After putting on white rubber shoes -and white stockings, she drew aside a sheet on the wall that ran on a -string and took down a white woollen skirt and a new cream-coloured -blouse cut low at the neck like Susie's. - -But the anchor of her hope was her hat, which she was to wear for the -first time, having bought it the day before in Ramsey. It was shaped -like a shell, with a round lip in front, and to find the proper angle -for it on her head was a perplexing problem. So she stood long and -twisted about before an unframed sheet of silvered glass which hung -by a nail on the wall, with a lash comb in her hand, a number of -hat-pins across her mouth, while the floor creaked under her, and the -conversation went on below. - -She got it right at last, just tilted a little aside, to look pert -and saucy, with her black hair, which was long and wavy, creeping up -to it like a cushion. And then, standing off from her glass to look -at it again over her shoulder, with eyes that danced with delight, -she turned to the door and walked with a buoyant step downstairs. - - - -III - -Dan Baldromma also had made an engagement for that day, handbills -having been distributed in Ramsey during the morning saying that "Mr. -Daniel Collister of Baldromma" would deliver an address in the -market-place at seven o'clock in the evening. - -At five Dan had strapped down the lever which stopped the flow of -water on to his overshot wheel and stepped into the dwelling-house, -where Liza, his wife, had laid tea for two and was blowing up a fire -of dry gorse to boil the kettle. - -"Tell your girl to put a lil rub on my Sunday boots," he said. - -"But she's upstairs dressing for Douglas," said Mrs. Collister. - -"You don't say?" said Dan. "So that's the way she's earning her -living?" - -"Chut, man," said Mrs. Collister. "If a girl's in life she wants -aisement sometimes, doesn't she? And her ragging and tearing to keep -the farm going, and a big wash coming on next week, too." - -"Well, that's good! That's rich! I thought it was myself that was -keeping the farm going. Douglas, you say? Well, well! I wonder at -you, encouraging your girl to go to such places, and you a bound -Methodist. Tell her to put a rub on my boots, ma'am." - -"I'll do it myself, Dan," said Mrs. Collister. "It's little enough -time the girl will have to catch the train, and her fixing on her new -hat, too." - -"New hat, eh?" - -"Aw, yes, man, the one she bought at Miss Corkill's yesterday." - -"What a woman! And you telling me, when you got five goolden -sovereigns out of me on Monday that she was for wearing it at the -Sulby Anniversary. I wonder you are not afraid for your quarterly -ticket." - -"But it was only the girl's half year's wages, and the labourer is -worthy of his hire. Thou art always saying so at the Cross anyway." - -"Hould thy tongue, woman, and don't be milking that ould cow any -more--it's dry, I tell thee." - -It was at this moment that Bessie came downstairs, and Dan, who was -on the three-legged stool before the fire, making wry faces as he -dragged off his mill-boots with a boot-jack, fell on her at first -with his favourite weapon, irony. - -"Aw, the smart you are in your new hat, girl--smart tremenjous!" - -"I didn't think you'd have the taste to like it," said Bessie, -sitting at the table. - -"Taste, is it?" said Dan. "Aw, the grand we are! The pride that's -in some ones is extraordinary though. There'll be no holding you! -You'll be going up and up! Your mother has always been used of a -poor man's house and the wind above the thatch. But you'll be -wanting feather beds and marble halls, I'm thinking." - -"They won't be yours to find then, so you needn't worry," said Bessie. - -"You think not? I'm not so sure of that. Man is born to trouble as -the sparks fly upwards .... So you're for Douglas, are you?" - -"Yes, I am, if you'll let me take my tea in time for the train." - -"Aisy, bogh, aisy!" said Mrs. Collister. - -"Well, you're your own woman now, so I suppose you've got lave to -go," said Dan. - -And then rising to his stockinged feet, his face hard and all his -irony gone, he added, "But I'm my own man, too, and this is my own -house, I'm thinking, and if you're not home for eleven o'clock -to-night, my door will be shut on you." - -Bessie leapt up from the table. - -"Shut your door if you like. There'll be lots of ones to open -theirs," she cried, and swept out of the house. - -"There you are, woman!" said Dan. "What did I say? Imperent -uncommon and dirty with the tongue! She'll have to clane it this -time though. If she's not back for eleven she'll take the road and -no more two words about it." - -Mrs. Collister struggled to her feet and followed Bessie, pretending -she had forgotten something. - -"Bessie! Bessie!" - -Bessie stopped at the end of the "street" and her mother hobbled up -to her. - -"Be home for eleven, bogh," she whispered. "It's freckened mortal I -am that himself has some bad schame on." - -"What schame?" asked Bessie. - -"I don't know what, but something, so give him no chance." - -"What do I care about his chance?" - -"Aw, bolla veen, bolla veen, haven't I enough to bear with thy father -and thee? Catch the ten train back--promise me, promise me." - -"Very well, I promise," said Bessie, and at the next moment she was -gone. - -Five minutes later, arm-in-arm with Susie, she was swinging down the -road to the railway station for Douglas. - -The little gay town, when they reached it, was at full tide, with -pianos banging in the open-windowed houses, guitars twanging in the -streets, and lines of young men marching along the pavements and -singing in chorus. The girls, fresh from their twinkling village by -the lonely hills, with the river burrowing under the darkness of the -bridge, were almost dizzy with the sights and sounds. - -When they came skipping down the steep streets to the front, and -plunged into the electric light which illuminated the bay, they could -scarcely restrain themselves from running. And when, bubbling with -the animal life which had been suppressed, famished and starved in -them, they passed through the turn-stile to the dancing-palace and -hurried down the tunnel of trees, lit by coloured lamps, and saw the -stream of white light which came from the open door, and heard the -crash of the band and the drumming of the dancers within, their feet -were scarcely touching the ground and they felt as if they wanted to -fly. And when at last, having entered the hall, the whole blazing -scene burst on them in a blinding flash, they drew up with a -breathless gasp. - -"Oh! Oh!" - -One moment they stood by the door with blinking and sparkling eyes, -their linked arms quivering in close grip. Then Bessie, who was the -first to recover from the intoxicating shock, looked up and around, -and saw Stowell and Gell sitting in the gallery. - -"Good sakes alive," she whispered, "they're there!" - -"Who? The gentlemen?" - -"Yes, in the front row. Be quiet, girl. They see us. Don't look -up. They might come down." - -And then the girls laughed with glee at their conscious make-believe, -and their arms quivered again to the rush of their warm blood. - - - -IV - -"Alick, isn't that our young friend of the glen?" - -"Bessie Collister? Where?" - -"Down there, standing with the fair girl, just inside the door." - -"Well, yes, upon my word, I think it is!" - -"I've a great mind to go down to them. Let us go." - -"No? Really? In a place like this?" - -"Why not, man?" - -"Well, if you don't mind, I don't." - -A few minutes later, in an interval between the dances, Victor, -coming behind Bessie, touched her on the shoulder. - -"How are those sweet-smelling heifers----still grazing on the -mountains?" - -Bessie, who had watched the young men coming downstairs, and felt -them at her back, turned with a look of surprise, then laughed -merrily and introduced Susie. For a few nervous moments there were -the light nothings which at such times are the only wisdom. Then the -violins began to flourish for another dance, and the two couples -paired off--Victor with Bessie and Susie with Gell. - -Victor took Bessie's hand with a certain delicacy to which she was -quite unaccustomed and which flattered her greatly. The dance was a -waltz, and she had never waltzed before, so they had to go carefully -at first, but when the dance was coming to an end she was swinging to -the rhythm of the orchestra as if she had waltzed a hundred times. - -In the interval the two couples came together again, and there was -much general chatter and laughter. Gell joined freely in both, and -if at first he had had any backward thoughts of the promise he had -given to his father they were gone by this time. - -Another dance began and without changing partners they set off -afresh, Stowell taking Bessie's hand with a firmer grasp and Bessie -holding to his shoulder with a stronger sense of possession. His -nerves were tingling. Turning round and round among women's smiling -faces, and with Bessie's smiling face by his side, he had the sense -of sweeping his partner along with an energy of physical power he had -never felt before. - -When the orchestra stopped the second time and they went in search of -their companions, they discovered Susie on a seat, panting and -perspiring, and Gell fanning her with the brim of his straw hat. - -Victor's excitement was becoming feverish. He wanted Bessie to -himself, and during the third dance he felt himself dragging her to -the opposite side of the hall. She knew what he was doing, and found -it enchanting to be carried off by sheer force. - -When the dance came to an end Victor put Bessie's moist hand through -his arm and walked up and down with her. Her throat was throbbing -and her breast rising and falling under her low-cut blouse. They -spoke little, but sometimes he turned his head to look at her, and -then she turned her eyes to his. He thought her black eyes were -looking blacker than ever. - -The evening was now at its zenith, and the orchestra was tuning up -for the "shadow-dance." The white lights on the walls went out, and -over the arc lamps in the glass roof a number of coloured disks were -passed, to throw shadows over the dancers, as of the sunrise, the -sunset, the moon and the night with its stars. The dance itself was -of a nondescript kind in which at intervals, the man, with a whoop, -lifted his partner off her feet and swung her round him in his -arms--a sort of symbol of marriage by capture. - -When the shadow-dance ended there was much hand-clapping among the -dancers. It had to be repeated, this time with a more rapid movement -and to the accompaniment of a song, which, being sung by the men in -chorus, made the hall throb like the inside of a drum. Many of the -dancers fell out exhausted, but Victor and Bessie kept up to the last. - -Then the big side doors were thrown open, and amid a babel of noise, -cries and laughter, nearly all the dancers trooped out of the hall -into the garden to cool. Victor gave his arm to Bessie and they went -out also. - -Lights gleamed here and there in the darkness of the trees, throwing -shadows full of mystery and charm. After a while the orchestra -within was heard beginning again, and most of the dancers hastened -back to the hall, but Victor said, - -"Let us stay out a little longer." - -Bessie agreed and for some minutes more they wandered through the -garden, in and out of the electric light, with the low murmur of the -sea coming to them from the shore and the muffled music from the hall. - -She was breathing deeply, and he was feeling a little dizzy. They -found themselves talking in whispers, both in the Anglo-Manx, and -then laughing nervously. - -"Did you raelly, raelly see the young colts racing on the tops, -though?" - -"'Deed no, not I, woman. But I belave in my heart I know who did." - -"Who?" - -"Why you!" - -At that word, and the touch of his hand about her waist, she made a -nervous laugh, and turned to him, her eyes closed, her lips parted -and her white teeth showing, and they drew together in a long kiss. - -At the next moment a clock struck coldly through the still air from -the tower of a neighboring church and Bessie broke away. - -"Gracious me, that must be ten o'clock. I have to catch the ten -train home." - -"You can't now. It's impossible," he said, and he tried to hold her. - -"I must--I promised," she cried, and she bounded off. He called and -followed a few steps, but she was gone. - -Feeling like a torn wound he returned to the dancing-hall. The scene -was the same as before but it seemed crude and tame and even dead to -him now. Where was Gell? He must have gone to see the fair girl off -by the ten train. He would come back presently. - -Victor returned to the hotel. To compose his nerves while he waited -he called for another half bottle of wine, and drank it, iced. The -music was still murmuring in his ears. After a while it stopped; -there were a few bars of the National Anthem, and then the pattering -like rain of innumerable feet on the paved way from the dancing-hall -to the promenade. It was now a few minutes to eleven, and -remembering that that was the hour of the last train to the north he -walked up to the station. - -A noisy throng was on the platform, chiefly young Manx farming people -of both sexes, returning to their homes in the country. The open -third-class carriages were full of them, all talking and laughing -together. - -Victor walked down the line of the train and looked into each of the -dim-lit carriages for Bessie, thinking it impossible that she could -have caught the earlier one. Not finding her, he inquired if the ten -train had left promptly and was told it had been half-an-hour late. -She must have gone. - -He got into an empty first-class compartment, folded his arms and -closed his eyes and the train started. While it ran into the dark -country the farming people, being unable to talk with comfort, sang. -Over the rolling of the wheels their singing came in a dull roar, and -when the train stopped at the wayside stations it went up in the -sudden silence in a wild discord of male and female voices. - -Victor was beginning to feel cold. He put up the window. His brain -which had been blurred was becoming lucid. He recalled the scenes he -had taken part in and some of them seemed to him now to have been -crude and common and even a little vulgar. He thought of Bessie and -felt ashamed. - -When the train drew up at the station for the glen he turned his face -from the direction of the mill, and to defeat a desire to look at it -he opened the window at the other side of the carriage and put out -his head. - -The free air was refreshing to body and brain, but when his eyes had -become accustomed to the darkness he saw the broad belt of the trees -of Ballamoar. That brought a stabbing memory of Janet and the -promise he had given her, and then of the Deemster and his -conversation with the Governor. - -He began to shiver, and to feel as if he were awakening from a fit of -moral intoxication. To-morrow he would go home, and since he could -not trust himself any longer, he would put himself out of the reach -of temptation by living at Ballamoar in future. - -When the train drew up at Ramsey it was half-past twelve. As he -walked out of the quiet station into the echoing streets of the -sleeping town he was drawing a deep breath and saying to himself: - -"Thank God!" - -It was all over. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - -THE MASTER OF MAN - -Dan Baldromma's meeting in the market-place had not been the success -he had expected. Standing on the steps of the town lamp, between the -Saddle Inn and the Ship Store, he had discoursed on the rights of the -labourer to the land he cultivated. - -The Earth was the Lord's, and the fulness thereof. Therefore it -could not belong to the big ones who were adding field to -field--least of all to their wastrels of sons who were doing nothing -but hang about the roads and the glens to ruin the daughters of -decent men. The moral of this was that the land belonged to the -people and the time was coming when they would pay no rent for it. - -Dan's audience of Manx farmers had listened to this new gospel with -Manx stolidity, but a group of young English visitors, clerks from -the cotton factories, looking down from the balcony of the Saddle -Inn, had received it with open derision. - -Dan had ignored their opposition as long as possible, merely saying, -when his audience laughed at their sallies, - -"We must make allowance for some ones, comrades--children still, -they've not been rocked enough." - -But when at length they had called him Bradlaugh Junior and Ingersoll -the Second and told him to keep his tongue off better men, Dan had -looked up at the balcony and cried, - -"If you're calling me by them honoured names I'm taking my hat off to -you" (suiting the action to the word), "but if you're saying you are -better men we'll be going into a back coort somewheres and taking off -our jackets and westcots." - -To preserve the peace the police had had to put an end to the -meeting, whereupon Dan, spitting contemptuously and snorting about -"The Cottonies" and "the Cotton balls," had harnessed his horse at -the Plough Inn and driven home in a dull rage. - -It had been ten o'clock when he got back to Baldromma, and after -unharnessing his horse in his undrained stable, and wiping his best -boots with a wisp of straw, he had stepped round to the kitchen. - -His wife was there, beating time on the hearthstone to a long-drawn -Methodist hymn while she stirred the porridge in a pot that hung over -a slow peat fire. - - "_Tell me the old, old story, .... - Of Jesus and His love._" - - -"Your daughter isn't back then?" said Dan with a growl. - -"Be raisonable, man," said Mrs. Collister. "Eleven o'clock thou -said, and it's only a piece after ten yet." - -She poured out the porridge and hobbled to the dairy for a basin of -milk, and then Dan, after a sour silence, sat down to his supper. - -"They were telling me in Ramsey," he said, making noises with his -spoon, "that the Spaker's son went up to Douglas to-day." - -"Like enough!" said Mrs. Collister. - -"I'll go bail your girl went up to meet him." - -"Sakes alive, man veen, what for should thou be saying that?" - -"She's fit enough for it anyway." - -"But what has the girl done? Twenty-four years for Spring and not a -man at her yet." - -"Chut! Once they cut the cables that sort is the worst that's going. -She'd be an angel itself though to stand up against a waistrel like -yander." - -"Bessie will be home for eleven," said Mrs. Collister. - -"She'd better, or she'll find Dan Baldromma a man of his word, ma'am." - -After that there was another sour silence in which both watched the -open-faced clock whose pendulum swung by the wall. Tick, tick tick, -said the clock. To the man it was going slowly, to the woman it -seemed to fly. But hardly had the fingers pointed to eleven, or the -chain begun to shake for the first stroke of the hour, when Dan was -at the door, bolting and locking it. - -"Will thou not give the girl a few minutes' grace, even?" - -"Not half a minute." - -"But the ten train hasn't whistled at the bridge yet." - -"I've nothing to do with trains, Misthress Collister. Eleven -o'clock, I said, and now it's eleven and better." - -"But surely thou'll never shut thy door on a poor girl in the middle -of the night?" - -"There's others that's open to her--she said so herself, remember. -She's not for coming home to-night, so take your candle and get to -bed, woman." - -"But the train must be late--I'll wait up myself for her." - -"You might burn your candle to the snuff--she's not for coming, I -tell you." - -"But she promised me--faithfully promised me...." - -"Get to bed, ma'am. I wonder you're not thinking shame, making -excuses for the bad doings of your by-child, and you a Methodist." - -The woman was on the verge of tears. - -"Shame enough it is, Dan Collister, when a mother has to shut her -heart to her own child if she's not to show disrespect to her -husband." - -In the intimacy of the bedroom Dan threw off all disguise. Winding -his silver-lever watch and hanging it with its Albert on a hook in -the bed-post, and then sitting on the side of the bed to undress, he -almost crowed over his prospects. That son of the Speaker would have -to pay for his whistle this time! Baldromma would be his by -heirship, and a father had a right to damages for the loss of the -services of his daughter. - -"There'll be no more rent going paying by me, I'm thinking," said Dan. - -So that was his scheme! Mrs. Collister stood long in her cotton -nightdress, fumbling with the strings of her night-cap, and wondering -if she could ever lie down with the man again. - -"Are you never for putting out that candle and coming to bed, woman?" - -Half-an-hour passed and the mother lay still and listened. Dan was -asleep by this time and breathing audibly, but there was no sound -outside save the slipping of the water from the fixed wheel and the -stamping of the horse in the stable. At last came the whistling of -the train, and a few minutes later, Bessie's step on the "street" and -then the rattling of the latch of the kitchen door. - -Mrs. Collister tried to slip out of bed without awakening Dan, but -her sciatica had made her limbs stiff and she knocked over the -candlestick that stood on a chair beside her. This awakened her -husband, and hearing the noise downstairs, he rolled out of bed, -saying, in a threatening voice, - -"Lie thou there--I'll settle her." - -He went out to the stairhead, slamming the bedroom door behind him, -threw up the sash of a window on the landing, and shouted into the -darkness: - -"Who's there?" - -"Me, of course," cried Bessie. - -A fierce altercation followed, in which Dan's voice was harsh and -coarse, and Bessie's shrill with anger. - -"Then find your bed where you've found your company," shouted Dan. -And shutting down the window with a crash he returned to the bedroom. - -The mother heard Bessie going off, and the fading sound of the girl's -footsteps tore her terribly. But after a few minutes more Dan was -making noise in his nostrils again and she got up and crept -downstairs to the kitchen (where the dull red of the dying turf left -just enough light to see by), slid the bolts back noiselessly, opened -the door and called in a whisper: - -"Bessie!" - -No answer came back to her, so she stepped out to the end of the -cobbled way, barefooted and in her nightdress and nightcap, and -called again: - -"Bessie! Bessie!" - -Still there was no reply; so she returned to the kitchen, leaving the -door on the latch, and sat for a long hour in a rocking chair by the -hearth (souvenir of the days when Bessie was a child, and she had -rocked her to sleep in it), fighting, in the misery of her heart, -with the black thought which Dan had put there. - -At length she remembered Susie and persuaded herself that Bessie must -have gone to the Ginger Hall to sleep. - -"Yes, Bessie must have gone to Susie." - -Being comforted by this thought, and feeling cold, for the fire had -gone out, she crept upstairs. It was hard to go by Bessie's room on -the landing. Every night for years she had stopped there on her way -to bed. And in the winter, when the wind in the trees in the glen -made a roar like the sea, she had called through the closed door: -"Art thou warm enough, Bessie, or will I bring thee my flannel -petticoat?" And now the door was open and the room was empty! - -Dan was still asleep when she got back to the bedroom and her -approach did not awaken him, so she fumbled her way to the bed -(knowing where she was when her feet touched the warm sheepskin that -lay by the side of it) and then opened the clothes and crept in. - -The cold air she brought with her awakened Dan, and he turned on the -pillow and said, - -"You've not been letting in that girl of yours, have you?" - -"No!" - -Dan made a grunt of satisfaction, and then said, with his face to the -wall, - -"Remember, you'll have to be up early to milk for yourself in the -morning." - -"Yes." - -Then came a yawn, and then a snore, and then silence fell on the -little house. - - - -II - -Bessie had run all the way to the station and then found that the -train had nearly half-an-hour to wait for the passengers by the last -of the day's steamers. The carriages were full of English visitors, -but there were very few Manx people and she could not see Susie -anywhere. This vexed her with the thought of having to tear herself -away a good hour earlier than anybody else. It was all her mother's -fault--getting her to make that ridiculous promise. - -From such thoughts, as the train ran into the country, her mind swung -back to the memory of Stowell. She recalled his looks, his smile, -his whole person, and every word he had said to her down to the -moment of that burning kiss. - -What pleased her most was the certainty that he had never kissed a -girl before. The trembling of his lips, when they were lip to lip, -told her that. And in spite of all that had been said of him she was -sure he had never had a woman in his arms until to-night--never! - -And she? Well, she had never before been kissed by a man. Alick -Gell? She was only a child then. Kiss-in-the-ring at Michael Fair? -Chut! A girl felt that no more than the wind blowing over her bare -cheek. - -By the clocks at the wayside stations she saw she was going to be -late getting home, but she didn't care. Dan Baldromma wasn't fool -enough to shut her out. But let him if he liked to! Where would he -go to get another girl to work for her wages--summer and winter, as -if the creatures had been her own, up all hours calving, and out -before the dawn in the lambing season, when the hoar-frost was on the -fields? - -It was twenty minutes past eleven when she got down at the glen -station, and there was Susie getting down also! Susie was in the -sulks. Not only had Bessie deliberately lost her in the -dancing-hall, but after she had hurried away to catch the ten train, -knowing Bessie had promised to return by it, she had had to come back -alone! - -This added to Bessie's vexation, and when she reached the house, and -found the door locked on her, it expressed itself in her hand when -she rattled the kitchen latch. - -Then came the scene with Dan Baldromma who shouted down at her from -the upper window as if she had been a thief--it was suffocating! And -when he said, "Find your bed where you've found your company," and -banged down the sash on her, she flung away, crying, as well as she -could for the anger that was choking her, - -"So I will, and you'll be sorry for it some day." - -At that moment she meant to sleep with Susie at the Ginger Hall Inn, -and offer herself next day to one or other of the farmers who had so -often asked for her. But she had not gone many steps before she -reflected that all the farmers' houses would be full now and nobody -could take her in until Michaelmas. - -No matter! She might have been no better off. Those old farmers -were all the same. If it wasn't the bullying of brutes like Dan -Baldromma it was the meanness of old hypocrites like Teare of -Lezayre, who laid foundation stones, and put purses of money on top -of them, and then went home and gave his girls cold potatoes and salt -herrings for supper! - -That made her think of young Willie Teare. She had met him in Ramsey -the day before, when he had said he was tired of slaving for his -father, and meant to set up in a farm for himself as soon as he could -find the right wife. But no thank you, no marrying with a farmer for -her! After a woman had worn herself to the bone, keeping things -together and gathering the stock, and she was doubled up with -sciatica, and ought to be in bed, with somebody to wait on her, the -husband was nagging and ragging her from morning to night. That was -marriage! Hadn't she seen enough of it? - -Bessie had reached the Ginger Hall by this time, and, seeing a light -in Susie's window, she was about to call up when (with Dan's insult -'Find your bed, etc.' still rankling in her mind) a startling thought -seized her and made her heart leap and the hot blood to rush through -and through her. There was one way to escape from Dan Baldromma and -his tyrannies--Mr. Stowell! - -Mr. Stowell would return by the last train to Ramsey, having bachelor -rooms there, in which he lived alone--so people were saying. If she -were to meet him on his arrival and tell him what had happened he -would find some way out for her. Of course he would! She was sure -he would! - -Ashamed? Why should she be? People had said all they could say -about a girl like her while she was a baby in arms, and who was there -to say anything now? - -And then Mr. Stowell wouldn't care either. He was rich, therefore he -had no need to be afraid of anybody. And if he were fond of a girl -he would stand up for her and defy the whole island--that was the -sort of young man he was! - -The last train could not reach Ramsey before midnight, and it might -be later. It was only half-past eleven yet. There was still time. -Why shouldn't she? - -"'Find your bed,' indeed! We'll see! We'll see!" - -Three-quarters of an hour later she was approaching Ramsey. The -stars had gone out; the night was becoming gloomy; she was tired and -her spirit of defiance was breaking down under a chilling thought. -What if Mr. Stowell did not want her? It was one thing for a young -man to amuse himself with a girl in the glen or in a dancing-hall, -but to become responsible for her.... - -"If he felt like that and found me in Ramsey what would he think?" - -Afraid and ashamed she was slowing down with the thought of returning -to the Ginger Hall when she heard the train whistle behind her, and -looking back, saw its fiery head forging through the darkness. That -sent the hot blood bounding to her heart again, and within a few -minutes she was walking slowly down the main street of the town, -which was all shut up and silent. - -She knew where Mr. Stowell's rooms were--in Old Post Office -Place--and that he would have to come this way to get to them. She -heard the train drawing up in the station, the passengers trooping -out, parting in the square and shouting their good-nights as they -went off by the streets to the north and south. One group was coming -behind, on the other side of the way, laughing over something they -had seen at a place of entertainment. They passed and turned down a -side street and the echo of their voices died away at the back of the -houses. - -Then came a few moments of sickening silence. Bessie, as she walked -on, could hear nothing more, and another chilling thought came to -her. What if Mr. Stowell had not returned by the train and were -sleeping the night in Douglas? - -All her courage and defiance ebbed away, and she saw herself for the -first time as she was--a miserable girl, cast out of her -step-father's house, in which she had worked so hard but in which -nothing belonged to her, homeless, penniless (for she had spent her -half-year's wages on her clothes) without a shelter, in the middle of -the night, alone! - -It was beginning to rain and Bessie was crying. All at once she -heard a firm step behind her. It was he! She was sure of it! Her -heart again beat high and all her nerves began to tingle. He was -overtaking her. She turned her head aside and wiped her eyes. He -was walking beside her. She could hear his breathing. - -"Bessie!" - -"Mr. Stowell!" - -"Good gracious, girl, what are you doing here?" - -And then she told him. - - - -III - -"The brute! The beast! Did you tell him your train was late?" - -"No. He ought to have known that for himself." - -"So he ought. You are quite right there, Bessie. But didn't your -mother...." - -"Mother is afraid of her life of the man. She daren't say anything." - -"Was there any other house he might have thought you would go to--any -neighbour's, any relation's?" - -"I have no relations, Sir." - -"Ah! .... Then he deliberately shut you out of his house in the -middle of the night, knowing you had nowhere else to go to?" - -"Yes!" - -"The damned scoundrel!" - -Bessie, who had been crying again, was looking up at him with wet but -shining eyes. - -"Well, what are you going to do now? Do you know anybody in town who -can take you in for to-night?" - -"No." - -"Then I must knock up one of the Inns for you. Here's the old -Plough--what do you say to the Plough?" - -"Dan Baldromma goes there--Mrs. Beatty would get into trouble." - -"The Saddle then?" - -"I go there myself, every market-day, with butter and eggs--people -would be talking." - -There was only the Mitre Hotel left, and Stowell himself shrank from -that. To go to the Mitre with a girl at this time of night would be -like shouting into the mouth of a megaphone. Within twenty-four -hours the whole town would hear the story, with every explanation -except the right one. - -"But, good heavens, girl, I can't go home and go to bed and leave you -to walk about in the streets." - -"I'll do whatever you think best, Sir," said Bessie, crying again and -stammering. - -They were at the corner of Old Post Office Place by this time, and, -after a moment's hesitation, he took the girl's hand and drew it -through his arm and then turned quickly in the opposite direction, -saying: - -"Come, then, let us think." - -It was still raining but Stowell was scarcely aware of that. With -the girl walking close by his side he was only conscious of a return -of the faint dizziness he had felt in the garden at Douglas. To -conquer this and to keep up his indignation about Dan Baldromma, -while they walked round the square of streets, he asked what the man -had said when he finally shut down the window. - -"He said I was to find my bed where I had found my company," said -Bessie, stammering again and with her head down. - -"Meaning that you had been in bad company?" - -"Yes." - -"The foul-minded ruffian!" - -His nerves were quivering, and he knew that the hot tide of his -indignation was ebbing rapidly. Suddenly an idea came to him and he -felt an immense relief--Mrs. Quayle! She was a good, religious -woman, who had seen sorrow herself, and that was the best kind to go -to in a time of trouble. She would take Bessie in for to-night, and -to-morrow they would all three go back together to Baldromma, and -then--then he would tell that old blackguard what he thought of him. - -"That's it, Bessie! I wonder why in the world I didn't think of it -before?" - -Bessie was answering "Yes" and "Yes," but her beaming eyes were -looking sideways up at him, and the blood was pounding through his -body with a rush. - -They had got back to the corner of Old Post Office Place when Stowell -stopped and said: - -"Wait! Mrs. Quayle's house is rather a long way off--one of the -little fishermen's cottages on the south beach, you know. I'm not -quite sure that she has a second bed. And then she might be alarmed -if two of us turned up at this time of night. What if I run over -first and make sure?" - -Again Bessie answered "Yes" and "Yes." - -"But it's raining heavily now, and, of course, you can't stay out in -the streets any longer. Here are my rooms--just here. Why shouldn't -you step in and wait? I shall have to go upstairs for an overcoat -anyway." - -Bessie showed no embarrassment, and Victor felt at first that what he -was doing was something a little courageous and rather noble. But as -soon as they reached the door, and he began to fumble with his key to -open it, he became nervous and a voice within him seemed to say, -"Take care!" - -"Come in," he said bravely, but when Bessie brushed him on entering -the house he trembled, and from that moment onwards he was conscious -of a struggle between his blood and his brain. - -As he was closing the door on the inside he saw that there was a -letter in the letter-box at the back of it, but he left it there, and -held out his hand to Bessie to guide her up the stairs, saying: - -"It's dark here. Give me your hand. Now come this way. Don't be -afraid. You shan't fall. I'll take care of you." - -There were two short flights and then a landing, from which a door -opened on either side--on the right to Victor's offices, on the left -to his living-rooms. He opened the door on the left, leaving Bessie -to stand on the landing until he had found matches and lit the gas. - -He was long in finding them, and while rummaging in the dark room he -heard the girl's quick breathing behind him. - -"Ah, here they are at last!" he cried in a tremulous voice, and then -he lit up a branch under a white globe on one side of the mantelpiece. - -"Now you can come in," he said, and turning to the window he loosened -the cord of the Venetian blind and it came clattering down. - -Bessie stepped into the room. It was a warm and cosy chamber, with a -thick Persian carpet, two easy chairs, an open bookcase full of law -books, a desk-table with ink-stand, writing-pad and reading-lamp -(looking so orderly as to suggest that no work was done there) and a -large pier-glass with a small bust of a pretty Neapolitan girl and a -little silver-cased clock in front of it. The clock was striking one. - -"One o'clock! It was stupid to stay out in the streets so long, -wasn't it?" - -"Yes." - -"Your hat is dripping. Hadn't you better take it off for the few -minutes you'll have to stay?" - -"Should I?" - -"Do; and I'll light the gas-fire--a bachelor has to have gas-fires, -you know." - -While he was down on his knees lighting the fire, and regulating its -burning from blue to red, Bessie, with trembling fingers, was drawing -the pins out of her hat--the wonderful new hat of a few hours ago, -now wet and bedraggled. In doing so she pulled down her hair and -made a faint cry, - -"Oh!" - -"Don't mind that at this time of night," said Victor. But at sight -of the girl's face, now framed in its shower of waving black hair, -his nervousness increased. He had always thought her a good-looking -girl, but he had never known before that she was beautiful. - -"My coat is wet, too. I must change it," he said, getting up and -going towards his bedroom door. "It would be foolish to put an -overcoat over a wet jacket, wouldn't it?" - -"Yes." - -"But your blouse seems to be soaking. Why shouldn't you take it off -and dry it at the fire while I'm away at Mrs. Quayle's?" - -"Should I?" - -"Why not?" - -While he was in the inner room, opening and closing his wardrobe, and -changing his wet coat for a dry one, he kept on talking. Mrs. Quayle -was a good creature who had lost her husband in that January gale a -few years ago. She would take Bessie in--he was sure she would. But -this was only to drown the clamour of two voices within himself, one -of which was saying, "Must you go?" and the other "Certainly you -must! Be a man and play the game, for God's sake." - -When he returned to the sitting-room the breath was almost smitten -out of his body by what he saw. Bessie had taken off her blouse, and -was kneeling by the fire to dry it. She did not raise her eyes to -his, and after a first glance he did not look at her. Opening the -outer door to the landing, where the hat-rail stood, he pulled on a -cap and dragged on an ulster, saying, in a nervous voice, - -"It's only a hop-skip-and-a-jump to Mrs. Quayle's. I shall be back -presently." - -Suddenly there came a flash of lightning which lit up the dark -bedroom, and then a clap of thunder, loud and long, which rattled the -window frames. - -"It would be foolish to go out in a storm like that, wouldn't it?" he -said. - -"'Deed it would," said Bessie. She had risen with a start, but now -she knelt again and held her steaming blouse before the fire. - -Stowell took off his cap and ulster and dropped them on to a chair. -Then he walked about the room, trying to keep his eyes from the girl, -and to fill the difficult silence by talking on indifferent -subjects--other storms he had seen in other countries. - -After a while the thunder went off in the direction of Ireland, its -echo becoming fainter and fainter in the sonority of the sea. - -"It's gone--now I can go," he said. - -But hardly had he taken up his cap again when the rain, which had -ceased for a moment, came in a sudden torrent. - -"Only a thunder shower--it will soon be over," he said. - -But the rain went on and on. Good Lord, were the very forces of -nature conspiring to keep him there all night? - -It was half-past one by the clock on the mantelpiece, and the rain -was still pelting on the pavement of the street outside with a sound -like that of an army in retreat. Stowell was feeling alternately hot -and cold, and the voice within him was saying, "Must you go? You -would be drenched through before you got back from Mrs. Quayle's, and -the girl would be as wet in getting there as if you had dropped her -into the sea." After a few minutes more he said, - -"Bessie, I'm afraid we shall have to give up the idea of going to -Mrs. Quayle's." - -"Yes?" - -"But you can stay here, and I can go over to the Mitre." - -"No, no." - -"It's nothing--only two yards away." - -Johnny Kelly, the boots, slept on the ground floor--he could get him -up without ringing the bell. Of course he would have to tell the old -man some cock-and-bull story--that he had lost his key or something. - -"But it's the very thing. I wonder I didn't think of it before." - -He half hoped and half feared she might make some further protest. -But she did not, so he picked up his cap and ulster and was making -for the door when he thought of the gas. Would Bessie, who had been -brought up in a thatched cottage, know how to put it out? - -"Well, no, no," she stammered. - -"It's quite simple. You turn the tap, so...." - -He had to kneel by her side to show her, and he was feeling the warm -glow he had felt in the glen. - -"But not being used of it...." - -"Then I know--the reading-lamp!" - -He leapt up to light it, and having done so, he turned out the branch -under the white globe, saying, with a laugh, it was lucky he had -thought of the lamp, for if old Johnny had seen the light in the -window the story of the key would have sounded thin, wouldn't it? - -Then she laughed too, and they laughed together, but their laughter -broke into a sharp and breathless silence. - -He carried the lamp into the bedroom, put it on the table by the -bedside and then pulled down the white window-blind, breaking the -cord by the tug of his trembling fingers. He was feeling as if -another storm, a storm of emotions, were now thundering within him. -"Must you go?" "You must! You shall! Good Lord, could a man of any -conscience .... Never! Never!" - -When he returned to the sitting-room Bessie had risen to her feet. -She was standing at the opposite side of the mantelpiece and the -intoxicating red light of the fire was over her. Stowell thought he -had never seen anything so beautiful. But he could not trust himself -to look twice. - -"You'll be all right here, Bessie," he said, in a loud voice, -snatching up his coat and cap and making for the door. "You can let -yourself out of the house as early as you like in the morning; and if -you decide to go back to that damned old devil at Baldromma you can -tell him from me where you passed the night, and I'll stand up for -you--why shouldn't I?" - -Then he heard a breathless cry behind him, and then the words, - -"Must you go?" - -He stopped and turned. Was it Bessie who had spoken? She had taken -a step towards him, was breathing irregularly and looking at him with -gleaming eyes. - -He felt as if the floor were rocking under his feet, as if the walls -were reeling round him, as if he were seeing the face of woman for -the first time. - -At the next moment they were clasped in each other's arms. - - - - -CHAPTER TEN - -THE CALL OF THE BALLAMOARS - -"What a mistake! What a hideous blunder!" - -Stowell, who had slept little, was awakening as from a bad dream. A -dull lead-coloured light was filtering through the white window-blind. - -He could not help seeing it--Bessie was not as pretty as he had -thought. There was something common about her beauty when she was -asleep which had been effaced by her eyes while she was awake. - -Ashamed to look any longer he stepped into the sitting-room. A close -odour hung in the air. The gas fire was still burning, and Bessie's -blouse was lying, where she had flung it, on the floor. With a sense -of moral and physical suffocation, he went downstairs and out into -the streets. - -The morning was fine and the dawn was breaking, but the town was -still asleep. So great was the upheaval within himself that in some -vague way he expected everything to look changed. But no, everything -was the same--the shops, the signs, the lamps, which had not yet been -put out. There was no sound except that of his own footsteps on the -pavement, and to deaden this he walked in the middle of the streets. - -He wanted to be alone, to leave the town behind him. Turning -northward he crossed the harbour bridge and made for the red pier -which stood out into the bay with a light-house at the end of it. - -The tide hummed far off on the shore. It was the bottom of the ebb. -Trading schooners were lying half on their sides in the mud. -Seagulls were calling over it. Sand, slime, sea-wrack and the broken -refuse of the town lay uncovered at the harbour's mouth, and the last -draught of the ebbing water was playing about them with a guttural -sound. - -When he came to the light-house he saw that some fragments of stone -and glass were lying about, but his mind was too confused to ask -itself what had happened. He sat down on the light-house steps, -looked down into the harbour-basin and tried to think. - -Good Lord, what a fool he had been! To ask the girl into his rooms, -being who and what she was, alone, in the middle of the night, just -after he had formed the resolution to go home and put himself out of -the reach of temptation .... what a fool! - -He thought of the stories people had told of him and how he had -justified the very ugliest and worst of them .... what a fool! - -He remembered what he had said to Janet, that no girl on the island -or in the world had ever come to any harm through him, or ever -should. That was only a little while ago and now .... what a fool! - -He recalled the white heat of his indignation against Dan Baldromma -for what he had done to his step-daughter. That was only last night, -and now he himself .... what a fool! What a fool! - -Then the sense of his folly gave way to a sense of shame. Down to -yesterday he had lived a decent life. Reckless, heedless, careless, -stupid perhaps, but decent anyway. And now .... what shame! - -The light was then clearing, and raising his eyes he saw on the south -beach a one-story fisherman's cottage from which the smoke was -rising. It was Mrs. Quayle's cottage. She was making her early -breakfast, and presently she would go to his room to make his. He -shuddered at a vision of what she would find there--the close air, -the gas fire, the girl's blouse on the floor, the girl herself .... -how degrading it all was! - -He saw Dan Baldromma ferreting out the facts (as of course he would, -having to find excuses for his own barbarity), and then blazoning -them abroad to his own disgrace and the discredit of his class. Or -worse--a hundredfold worse--holding them as a threat over his father. -What a disgusting bog he had strayed into! - -He saw the truth leaking out one way or other and putting an end to -his career at the bar. It was not the same here as in the greater -communities, where a man might commit a fault and then submerge it in -the fathomless tide of life. In this little island, where everybody -knew everybody, it was the man himself who was submerged. - -If the story of last night became known to anyone it would become -known to everyone, from the Governor himself to the meanest beggar on -the roads. No position of honour or authority would ever be possible -to him after that. The black fact would be a clanking chain which he -would have to drag after him as long as he lived. - -When he thought of this--that the event of one night might alter the -whole course of his life, and bring scandal upon the Deemster, and -that it was due to a miserable accident in the first instance--the -accident of meeting Bessie on the streets after midnight--he was -filled with a fierce and consuming rage, and for one bad moment he -had an almost uncontrollable desire to return to his rooms and drive -her out of them. - -That horrified him. He hated himself for it, and after a while his -self-pity gave place to pity for the girl. - -"Good heavens, what are my risks compared to hers?" he asked himself. - -The poor girl had so many excuses. Back in the past, before she was -born even, she had been condemned and branded, and the damned -hypocritical world had been deepening the injury every day since. If -he had found her in the streets it was only because her brutal -step-father had turned her from his door. And if she had come into -his rooms it was because she had no other shelter. - -She had been a good girl too. No other man had been allowed to lead -her astray. He could hear her voice still, repeating his own words -after him: "You _will_ stand up for me, won't you?" and he had -promised that he would. He could not cast her off now without being -a scoundrel. Could the son of Deemster Stowell be a scoundrel? - -"No, by God!" - -A few minutes later he saw himself going back to Bessie and saying, -"Look here, my dear girl. It was neither your fault nor mine, but -take this, and this, and remember if you ever find it is not enough, -there'll be more where that comes from." - -But no, he could not do that either. If he made the girl take money -he would put her in the position of a harlot; and once a woman -accepted that position there was no bottom to the unguessed depths to -which she might descend. - -Bessie's future stood up before him like a spectre. Other men, each -more brutal than the last, quarrels, violence, all the miseries of -such a life--until some day, perhaps, some hideous fact with which he -had had nothing to do, would look at him with accusing eyes and say, - -"You are responsible for this, because you were the first." - -Down to that moment he had been thinking of the event of last night -as a blunder, but now he saw it as a crime. To prevent the possible -consequences of that crime he must keep the girl with him, take care -of her, protect her as the saying was. - -But no, that was impossible also. Justification for such a relation -there might be--no doubt was--where law or custom or other impediment -were keeping apart a man and woman who belonged together. But to put -a girl into the position of a mistress, because she was unworthy to -be a wife, and to hide her away behind a curtain of duplicity and -lies, was to destroy her body and soul. - -Again Bessie's future stood up before him as a spectre--that -high-spirited girl who, but for him, might have married a decent man -of her own class, and held her head proud, declining, after a few -vain months of fine clothes and idleness, to the condition of a -slattern, and going down to the dirt and degeneration of drink. - -And then he saw that what had happened last night was not merely a -crime--it was a sin. - -But what was he to do? What? What? - -Just at that moment the sun had come up out of the sea in crimsoning -clouds, and the white mist that is the shroud of night had risen -above the houses of the town, the steeples of the churches, the hills -and the mountain tops, and was vanishing away in that new birth of -morning light that is the world's daily resurrection. - -"I know! I know!" he thought, and he leapt to his feet. - -He had remembered something that Janet had said about the men of his -family--that it had always been a kind of religion with them to do -the right. Four hundred years of the Ballamoars and not a stain on -the name of any of them! That was something to be born to, wasn't -it? It was worth all the titles and honours the world had in it. - -And then, in that moment of strange and solemn splendour, when the -things of the other world appear to be as real as the things of this -one, it seemed as if the Ballamoars were calling to him! Four -hundred years of the dead Ballamoars were calling to the last of -their sons--"_Do the right!_" - -"I must marry that girl," he told himself. - -But at the next moment there came, with the shock of a blow, the -memory of his mother. - -Marriage had always been associated in his mind with such different -conditions. Such a different woman; somebody who would be your -equal, perhaps your superior; somebody who would sustain and inspire -you; somebody who would help you feel the throbbing pulse of life, -and listen to all the suffering hearts that beat; somebody who, if -she had to go before you, would leave behind her, for as long as your -life should last, the fragrance of flowers and the halo of a holy -saint. - -That was marriage as he had always thought of it. And now this -girl--illiterate, inadequate, with that mother, that father .... in -the presence of the Deemster .... the home of Isobel Stanley .... Oh, -God! - -Then a mocking voice seemed to say, - -"Good Lord, what a joke! If every man who ever made a tragic blunder -(there have been hundreds of thousands of you) had acted on your -exaggerated sense of responsibility, what a mess the old world would -be in by this time! Why, there is scarcely a man alive who would not -laugh at you and call you a fool." - -"Let them," he thought, for louder at that moment than any other -voice was the voice that cried, - -"_Do the right!_" - -The marriage need not take place immediately. Bessie could be -educated. She was bright; there was no saying how quickly she might -develop. That would soften the blow to his father, and anyhow the -Deemster would see that he was trying to be true to his blood, his -race. - -"Yes, yes, I must do the right; whatever it may cost me." - -But then came another chilling thought. Love! There could be no -love in such a marriage. This brought, with the pain of a bleeding -wound, the memory of Fenella. - -In spite of all he had said to himself through so many years he had -never really been reconciled to the loss of her. Down in some dark -and secret chamber of his consciousness there had always been a -phantom hope that notwithstanding her devotion to her work for women, -and the dedication to celibacy (as stern as the consecration of the -veil) which she believed to be demanded by it, Fenella would return -to the island, and his great love would be rewarded. - -That had been the real cause of his idleness. He had been waiting, -waiting, waiting for Fenella to come back and make it worth while -.... and now .... by his own act .... the consequences of it .... Oh, -God! Oh, God! - -For the first time, save once since he was a child, he felt tears in -his eyes, but he brushed them away impatiently. - -"It's too late to think of that now," he thought. - -A duty claimed him. He must put such dreams away. Besides where was -the merit of doing the right if you had not to sacrifice something? -Love might be the light of life, but men and women all the world over -had for one reason or other to marry without it. Millions of hearts -in all ages were like old battlefields, with dead things, which -nobody knew of, lying about in the dark places. And yet the world -went on. - -He might have struggles, heart-aches, heart-hunger, and more than he -could do to keep the pot boiling, with the fire out and the hearth -cold, but nobody need know anything about that. This girl need never -know. Fenella need never know. Nobody need know. It was a matter -for himself only. - -"Yes, yes, I must do the right," he kept on saying, "whatever it may -cost me." - -Having arrived at this decision he felt an immense relief and got up -to go back. - -The windows of the town were reflecting the morning sun and the smoke -was rising from the chimneys. He saw an elderly woman, with a little -shawl pinned over her head and under her chin, trudging along past -the storm-cone station on the other side of the harbour. It was Mrs. -Quayle, on her way to his rooms. But he shuddered no longer at the -thought of her. She was a good creature and when she heard what he -meant to do she would help him with the care of Bessie. - -As he walked towards the town he told himself he had another reason -now for setting to work in earnest--he had to justify what he was -going to do in the eyes of the island and of the Deemster. Therefore -the event of last night might be a good thing after all, little as he -had thought so. - -At the mouth of the bridge he met the harbour-master, whose face wore -a look of dismay. - -"This is a ter'ble shocking thing that has happened in the night, Mr. -Stowell." - -Stowell caught his breath and asked "What?" - -"Why, the light-house. Struck by lightning in the storm. Didn't you -see it, Sir?" - -"Oh yes, of course, certainly." - -"I'm just after telegraphing to the Governor and the -Receiver-General. The old light has gone out with the tide, Sir, and -it will be middlin' bad for the boats coming in at night until we get -a new one." - -"It will, Captain, it will. Good-morning!" - -His eyes were positively shining with joy as he walked sharply -through the town, and as he opened his door he was saying to himself -again, - -"I must do the right, _whatever_ it may cost me." - -He was closing the door on the inside when he saw in the letter-box -the letter which had caught his eye last night. Now he could open it. - -It was marked "Immediate." Recognising the Ballamoar crest and -Janet's handwriting, he trembled and turned pale. - - - "A line in frantic haste, dear, to say I have just heard from - Miss Green that Fenella is crossing by the steamer due to arrive - at eight o'clock this evening. She has left her Settlement and - is coming back to stay in the island for good. I thought you - might like to go up to Douglas to meet her. Trust me, dear, she - will be simply delighted. - - "Robbie Creer is taking this into town by hand, so that you may - receive it at the earliest possible moment. I am frightfully - excited, and oh, so glad and happy." - - -Stowell reeled and laid hold of the hand-rail. And when at length he -went upstairs he staggered as if he were carrying a crushing load. - - -END OF FIRST BOOK - - - - -_SECOND BOOK_ - -THE RECKONING - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN - -THE RETURN OF FENELLA - -"Fate has played me a scurvy trick," thought Stowell. "No matter! -I'll go on." - -Within an hour he settled Bessie Collister temporarily with Mrs. -Quayle. He told her they were to be married ultimately, but meantime -(that she might feel more comfortable in her new condition) he -intended to find some suitable place in which she would complete her -education. - -He tried to say this tenderly so as not to hurt the girl's pride, and -even affectionately, so as to convey the idea that it was she who -would be doing the favour. But a certain shallowness in Bessie's -nature disappointed him. While he unfolded his plans she said "Yes" -and "yes," looking alternately surprised and startled, but it was -with a troubled face, rather than a glad one, that she went off with -Mrs. Quayle, whose own face was grave also. - -Two days later Stowell went up to see Gell. He had determined to say -nothing about his intimate relations with Bessie. Why should he? If -it was his duty to marry the girl, it was equally his duty to protect -her honour--the honour of the woman who was to become his wife. - -Gell was astounded. He listened, with a twinkling eye, to Stowell's -story of how he had come upon Bessie in the street, after midnight, -friendless and homeless, being shut out by her abominable father, and -how he had taken her to Mrs. Quayle's. But when Stowell went on to -say that, feeling a certain responsibility for the girl's misfortune, -having been a principal cause of it (by keeping her out too late at -night) and having seen something of her since, he had come to like -and even to love her, and had made up his mind to marry her, Gell -broke into exclamations of astonishment which cut Stowell to the -quick. - -"But Bessie? Bessie Collister? Do you really mean it?" - -"Why not?" - -"Well .... it is not for me to say why not. She was a sort of old -flame of my own, you know." - -Stowell flinched at this, but went on with his story. For Bessie's -sake he had decided to put back the marriage until she could be -educated a little. And if Gell knew of any school, not too well -known, and far enough away.... - -"Why, yes, of course I do," said Gell. - -It was that of the Misses Brown at Derby Haven--a remote village at -the south of the island. Two old maids who had formerly been -governesses to his sisters. Only yesterday the elder of them had -written asking if there was anything he could put in her way. It -looked like the very thing. At all events he would go down and see. -And if Stowell wished to keep things quiet for a while, as of course -he would, if it was only for the sake of the Deemster, he was ready -to act as go-between. - -"What a good fellow you are, Alick!" - -"Not a bit! It's no more than you would have done for me--less than -you've done already." - -Next day Stowell had a letter from Gell saying he had arranged -everything. The Misses Brown, who had no other pupil at present, -would be only too delighted. Bessie might be sent up at any time and -he would see her to her destination. - -Within a week the girl was despatched to Douglas, with such -belongings as Mrs. Quayle had bought for her, and in due course -Stowell had a second letter from Gell, saying, - -"It's all right. I've delivered the goods! Of course I made no -unnecessary explanations, and old Miss Brown, smelling a secret, -thinks I am to be the happy man. What larks! But I don't mind if -you don't. Bessie looked a little wistful when I came away, so I had -to promise to run down and see her sometimes. That's all right, I -suppose?" - -Then Stowell set to work. Letting it be known that he was willing to -accept cases of all kinds it was not long before he was fully -occupied. Common assault, drunkenness, petty larceny--he took -anything and everything that came his way. He did his work well. In -a little while people began to whisper that he was a chip of the old -block and to employ the Deemster's son was to ensure success. - -Meantime he saw nothing of Fenella. Having made up his mind to do -the right thing he tried his best to banish all thought of her. But -everybody was talking of the Governor's daughter. She was beautiful; -she was charming; she was wonderful! Oh, the joy of it all! But the -pain and the misery of it, also! - -One day he met Janet driving in the street, and after she had asked -if he had received her letter, and he had answered no, it had arrived -too late, she said, - -"But of course you'll call, dear. I'm sure she'll expect it." - -The Governor sent out invitations to a garden-party in honour of his -daughter's return home, but Stowell excused himself on the ground of -urgent work. A little later Fenella herself issued invitations to a -meeting towards the establishment of a League for the Protection of -Women, but again Stowell excused himself--a case in the Courts. - -Still later he went out to Ballamoar to see his father, whom he had -neglected of late, and the Deemster (who looked older and feebler and -had a duller light in his great but melancholy eyes) flamed up with a -kind of youth when he talked of Fenella. - -"It's extraordinary," he said. "Do you know, Victor, she is the only -woman I have ever met who has reminded me of your mother? And if I -close my eyes when she is speaking, I can almost persuade myself it -is the same." - -Stowell began to think he hated the very name of Fenella. But there -were moments when he felt that he could have given the whole world, -if he had possessed it, just to look upon her face. - -One day Gell came to "report progress" about Bessie. She was getting -on all right, but "longing" a little in those unaccustomed -surroundings, so he had to go down in the evenings sometimes to take -her out for walks. - -"We'll have to be careful about that, though," he said, "for what do -you think?" - -"What?" - -"Dan Baldromma suspects _me_, and is having me watched." - -Stowell was startled and ashamed. Where had his head been that he -had not thought of this before? He had got up from his desk and was -looking vacantly out of the window when he became aware that the -Governor's big blue landau was drawing up in the street below. - -At the next moment there was a light step on the stairs, and at the -next the door of his room was opened by his young clerk, and through -the doorway came someone who was like a vision from a thousand of his -dreams, but now grown in her stately height out of the beauty of a -bewitching girl into the full bloom of womanly loveliness. - -It was Fenella Stanley. - - - -II - -"You wouldn't come to see me, so I've come to see you." - -Stowell never knew what answer he made when he took her outstretched -hand; but after a moment he said, - -"You know my friend Gell?" - -"Indeed I do .... And how's Isabella? .... And Adelaide? .... And -Verbena?" - -While Fenella was talking to Gell, Stowell had time to look at her. -She was the most beautiful woman in the world! Those dark eyes, -beaming with bluish opal; those lips like an opening rose; that -spacious forehead, with its brown hair shot with gold--they had not -told him the half. - -Gell made shift to answer for the sisters he had not seen for months, -and then went off. - -And then Fenella, taking the chair that Stowell had set for her, and -dropping her voice to a deeper note, said, - -"And now to business. You know we've established on the island a -branch of the Women's Protection League?" - -"I know." - -"One of its objects is to protect women from the law." - -"The law?" - -"Yes, sir, the law," said Fenella smiling. "Your law can be very -cruel sometimes--especially to women. But our first case is not one -of that kind. It is a case in which the law, if rightly guided, can -best do justice by showing mercy." - -A young wife in Castletown had killed her husband. She had already -appeared at the High Bailiff's Court and been committed for trial to -the Court of General Gaol Delivery--the Manx Court of Assize. - -"There seems to be no question of her guilt," said Fenella, "so we -can neither expect nor desire that she should escape punishment -altogether. The poor thing--she's scarcely more than a girl--will -say nothing in self-defence, but when we remember how the soul of a -woman shrinks from a crime of that kind we feel that she must have -suffered some great injustice, some secret wrong, which, if it could -be brought out in Court...." - -"I see," said Stowell. - -Fenella paused a moment and then said, in a voice that was becoming -tremulous, - -"Therefore we have thought that for this case we need an advocate who -loves women as women and can see into the heart of a woman when she's -down and done, because God has made him so. And that's why...." - -"Yes?" - -"That's why I've brought this first case to you." - -Stowell could scarcely speak to answer her. But after a moment he -stammered that he would do his utmost; and then Fenella brought out -of her hand-bag some printed papers that were a report of the -preliminary inquiry. - -"I'll read them to-night," he said, putting them into his breast -pocket. - -"Of course you'll require to see the prisoner?" - -"Yes." - -"She hasn't opened her lips yet, but you must get her to speak." - -"I'll try." - -"That's all for the present," said Fenella, rising; and at the next -moment she was smiling again, and her eyes were beginning to glow. - -"So this is where you live?" - -"No, this is my office; I live at the other side of the house." - -"Really? I wonder...." - -"You would like to see my living rooms?" - -"I'd love to. I've always wanted to see how young bachelors live -alone." - -"Come this way then." - -Stowell had not realised what he was doing for himself until he was -on the landing, with the key in the lock, and Fenella behind him, but -then came a stabbing memory of another woman in the same position. - -"Come in," he cried (his voice was quivering now), and drawing up the -Venetian blind he let in a flood of sunshine and the soft song of the -sea. - -"What a comfy little room!" said Fenella. - -As she looked around her eyes seemed to light up everything. - -"It's easy to see that you've been racing all over the earth, sir. -That Neapolitan girl on the mantelpiece came from Rome, didn't she?" - -"She did." - -"And that lamp from Venice, and that silver bowl from Cairo, and that -cedar-wood photograph frame from Sorrento?" - -"Quite right." - -"Books! Books! Books! All law books, I see. Not a human thing -among them, I'll be bound. And yet they're all terribly, fearfully, -tragically human, I suppose?" - -"That's so." - -"Gas fire? So you have a gas fire for the cold wet nights?" - -"Yes, a bachelor has to have...." But another stabbing memory came, -and he could get no further. - -"And so this is where you sit alone until all hours of the -night--reading, reading, reading?" - -He tried to speak but could not. She glanced at the bedroom door -which stood open, and said, with eyes that seemed to laugh, - -"Is that your....?" - -He nodded, breathing deeply, and trying to turn his eyes away. - -"May I perhaps....?" - -"If you would like to." - -"What fun!" - -She stood in the doorway, looking into the room for a moment, with -the sunlight on her bronze-brown hair, and then, turning back to him -with the warmer sunshine of her smile, she said, - -"Well, you young bachelors know how to make yourselves comfortable, I -must say. But I seem to scent a woman about this place." - -He found himself stammering: "There's my housekeeper, Mrs. Quayle. -She comes every morning...." - -"Ah, that accounts for it." - -She walked downstairs by his side, and said, as he opened the -carriage door for her, - -"You'll do your best for that poor girl?" - -"My very best." - -"And by the way, the Deemster has invited the Governor and me to -Ballamoar. We go on Monday and stay a week. Of course you'll be -there?" - -"I'm afraid...." - -"Oh, but you must." - -"I'll .... I'll try." - -"Au revoir!" - -He stood, after the carriage had gone until it had crossed to the -other side of the square, where, from the shade of the inside (it had -been closed in the meantime) Fenella reached her smiling face forward -and bowed to him again. Then he went back to his room--now empty, -silent and dead. - -Oh, God, why had that senseless thing been allowed to happen! Lord, -what a little step in front of him on life's highway a man was -permitted to see! - -Stowell did not return to his office that afternoon. His young clerk -locked up, left the keys, went downstairs and shut the door after -him, but still he sat in the gathering darkness like a man nursing an -incurable wound. He would never forgive himself for allowing Fenella -to come into his rooms--never! - -"You fool!" he thought, leaping up at last. "What's done is done, -and all you've got to do now is to stand up to it." - -Then he lit the gas and taking the report out of his pocket he began -to read it. What a shock! As, little by little, through the -thick-set hedge of question and answer, the story of the wretched -young wife came out to him, he saw, to his horror, that it was the -story of Bessie Collister as he had imagined it might be if he -deserted her. - -What devil out of hell had brought this case to him as a punishment? -By the hand of Fenella, too! No matter! If the unseen powers were -concerning themselves with his miserable misdoings perhaps it was -only to strengthen him in his resolution--to compel him to go on. - -Suffer? Of course he would suffer! It was only right that he should -suffer. And as for the haunting presence of Fenella's face in that -room, there was a way to banish that. - -So, sitting at his desk, he wrote, - - - "DEAR BESSIE,--Please go into Castletown to-morrow and have your - photograph taken, and send it on to me immediately." - - -After that he felt more at ease and sat down before the fire to study -his case. - - - -III - -"I must not go to Ballamoar while she's there. It would be madness," -thought Stowell. - -To escape from the temptation he made a still deeper plunge into the -cauldron of work, going to Courts all over the island and winning his -cases everywhere. - -Twice he went to Castle Rushen to see the young wife in her cell. -What happened there was made known to the frequenters of the "Manx -Arms" by Tommy Vondy, the gaoler. Tommy, who had been coachman at -Ballamoar in the "Stranger's" days, and appointed to his present post -by the Deemster's influence, was accustomed to scenes of loud -lamentation. But having listened outside the cell door, and even -taken a peep or two through the grill, he was "free to confess" that -"the young Master" could not get a word out of the prisoner. - -As the week of Fenella's visit to Ballamoar was coming to a close, -Stowell's nervousness became feverish. One day, as he was walking -down the street, a dog-cart drew up by his side and a voice called, - -"Mr. Stowell!" - -It was Dr. Clucas, a jovial, rubicund full-bearded man of middle age, -not liable to alarms. - -"I've just been out to Ballamoar to see the Deemster, and I think -perhaps you ought to keep in touch with him." - -"Is my father....?" - -"Oh no, nothing serious, no immediate danger. Still, at his age, you -know...." - -"I'll go home to-morrow," said Stowell. - -On the following afternoon he walked to Ballamoar. It was a bright -day in early September. There was a hot hum of bees on the gorse -hedges and the light rattle of the reaper in the fields, but inside -the tall elms there was the usual silence, unbroken even by the -cawing of the rooks. - -The house, too, when he reached it, seemed to be deserted. The front -door was open but the rooms were empty. - -"Janet!" he cried, but there came no answer. Then he heard a burst -of laughter from the back, and going through the dining-room to the -piazza, he saw what was happening. - -The yellow corn field which had been waving to a light breeze when he -was there a fortnight before, was now bare save for the stooks which -were dotted over part of it, and in the corner nearest to the mansion -house a group of persons stood waiting for the cutting of the last -armful of the crop--the Deemster, leaning on his stick; the Governor -smoking his briar-root pipe; Parson Cowley, with his round red face; -Janet in her lace cap; the house servants in their white aprons; -Robbie Creer, in his sleeve waistcoat; young Robbie, stripped to the -shirt; a large company of farm lads and farm girls, and--Fenella, in -a sunbonnet and with a sickle in her hand. It was the Melliah--the -harvest home. - -"Now for it," cried Robbie, "strike them from their legs, miss." And -at a stroke from her sickle Fenella brought the last sheaf to the -ground. - -Then there was a shout of "Hurrah for the Melliah!" and at the next -moment Robbie was dipping mugs into a pail and handing them round to -the males of the company, saying, when he came to the Parson, - -"The Parson was the first man that ever threw water in my face" -(meaning his baptism), "but there's a jug of good Manx ale for his -own." - -The rough jest was received with laughter, and then the Deemster, -being called for, spoke a few words with his calm dignity, leaning -both hands on his stick: - -"'Custom must be indulged with custom, or custom will weep.' So says -our old Manx proverb. The sun is going west on me, and I cannot hope -to see many more Melliahs. But I trust my dear son, when he comes -after me, will encourage you to keep up all that is good in our old -traditions." - -Then there was another shout, followed by some wild horseplay, with -the farm-boys vaulting the stocks and the girls stretching straw -ropes to trip them up, while the Deemster and his company turned back -to the house. - -Fenella, coming along in her sun bonnet (a little awry) and with her -sheaf over her arm, was the first to see Victor, and she cried, - -"At last! The Stranger has come at last!" - -Janet was in raptures, and the Deemster said, while his slow eyes -smiled, - -"You are sleeping at home to-night, Victor?" - -"Yes, father." - -"Good!" - -After saluting everybody Victor found himself walking by Fenella's -side, and she was saying in a low voice, with a side-long glance, - -"And how do you like me in a sun bonnet, sir? You rather fancy sun -bonnets, I believe." But at that moment a wasp had settled on her -arm and he was too busy removing it to reply. - -At dinner that night Stowell found himself drawn into the home -atmosphere as never before since his days as a student-at-law. The -dining-table was bright with silver and many candles, and the wood -fire, crackling on the hearth, filled the low-ceiled room with the -resinous odour of the pine. - -Everybody except himself and the doctor (who had arrived as they were -sitting down) had dressed. The beauty of Fenella, who came in with -the Deemster, seemed to be softened and heightened by her pale pink -evening gown--like the beauty of a flower-bud when it opens and -becomes a rose. - -With Janet's complete approval Fenella had taken control of -everything, and as Victor entered she said, - -"That's your place, Mr. Stranger," putting him at the end of the -table, with Janet and the doctor on either side. - -She herself sat by the Deemster, whose powerful face wore an -expression of suffering, although, as often as she spoke to him, he -turned to her and smiled. - -"She's lovelier than ever, really," whispered Janet, and then (with -that clairvoyance in the heart of a woman which enables her to read -mysteries without knowing it), "What a pity she ever went away!" - -As a sequel to the Melliah the talk during dinner was of the ancient -customs and old life of the island. The Deemster, who could have -told most, said little, but the Governor spoke of the riots of the -Manx people (especially the copper riot when they wanted to burn down -Government House), and Janet of the roysterers and haffsters of the -Athols who kept racehorses and fought duels--her mother in her -girlhood had seen the blue mark of the bullet on the dead forehead of -one of them. - -Such sweetness, such nobility, the men, the women, and the manners! -Fenella joined in the talk with great animation, but Stowell was -silent and in pain. Here they were, his family and friends, without -a suspicion that some day, perhaps soon, he would bring quite another -atmosphere into this house, this room. Visions of the mill, the -miller, his wife and his daughter rose before him, and he felt like a -traitor. - -But it was not until they went into the library (it was library and -drawing-room combined) that he knew the full depth of his -humiliation. The Deemster, who was by the fire, asked Fenella to -sing to them, and she did so, sitting at the piano, with Doctor -Clucas (who in his youth had been the best dancer in the island) -tripping about her with old-fashioned gallantry to find the music and -turn over the leaves. - -"This is for the Stranger," she said (cutting deeper than she knew), -and then followed a series of old Manx ballads, some of them like the -wailing of the wind among the rushes on the Curraghs, and some like -the dancing of the water in the harbour before a fresh breeze on a -summer day. - -Then the doctor brought out from a cupboard a few faded sheets -inscribed "Isobel Stowell," and Fenella sang "Allan Water" and "Annie -Laurie." And then the Deemster closed his eyes, and it seemed to -Victor who sat on a hassock by his side, that his father's -blue-veined hands trembled on his knees. - -"And this is for myself," said Fenella, dropping into a deeper tone -as she sang: - - _Less than the weed that grows beside thy door.... - Even less am I._" - - -Victor wanted to fly out of the room and burst into tears. But just -then the clock on the landing struck, and Fenella rose from the piano. - -"Ten o'clock! Time to go upstairs, Deemster." - -The old man seemed to like to be controlled by the young woman, and -leaning on her arm, he bowed all around in his stately way, and -permitted himself to be led from the room. - -Then the Governor (being a privileged person) lit his pipe with a -piece of red turf from the fire, and Janet whispered to the maid who -had come back for the coffee-tray, - -"See that Mr. Victor's night-things are laid out, Jane." - -But Victor himself was in the hall, helping the Doctor with his -overcoat, and saying, - -"Can you take me back to town with you?" - -"Certainly, if you'll wait at the lodge while I look in on the -cowman's wife." - -"Why, what's this mischief you are plotting?" It was Fenella coming -downstairs. - -The doctor explained, and Victor said, - -"There's that case. It comes on soon. I must see the poor woman -again in the morning." - -"Well, if you must, you must, and I'll go down to the gate with you," -said Fenella. And putting something over her head she walked by his -side (the doctor having gone on), taking his arm unasked and keeping -step with him. - -"I was just wanting a word with you." - -"Yes?" - -"It's about your father. You must really come back to live with him." - -"Has he asked...." - -"Not to say asked! 'Victor doesn't come to see me very -often'--that's all." - -"After this case is over I'll...." - -"Do. You can't think how much it will mean to him." - -On the way back to Ramsey, with the lamps of the dog-cart opening up -the dark road in front of them, Stowell was silent, but the doctor -talked continuously, and always on the same subject. - -"I've seen something of the ladies in my time, Mr. Stowell, sir, but -I really think .... yes, sir I really do think...." and then -rapturous praises of Fenella. They rang like joy-bells in Stowell's -ear but struck like minute-bells also. - -When he closed the street door to his chambers he found a large -envelope in the letter-box behind it. Bessie's photograph! As he -held it under the gas globe in his cold room the pictured face gave -him a shock. Beautiful? Yes, but there was something common in its -beauty which he had never observed before. - -His first impulse was to hide the photograph out of sight. But at -the next moment he tore open the cedar-wood frame on the mantelpiece, -removed the portrait it contained, inserted Bessie's in its place, -and then put it to stand on the table by the side of his bed. - -"There! That shall be the last face I see at night and the first I -see in the morning!" - -But oh vain and foolish thought! With the first sleep of the night -another face was in his dream. - - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE - -THE DEATH OF THE DEEMSTER - -The Deemster had not intended to sit at the next Court of General -Gaol Delivery, and had already arranged for the second Deemster to -take his place, but when, next morning at breakfast, he heard from -Fenella that Victor was to plead, he determined to preside. - -"I must hear Victor's first case at the General Gaol," he said. - -"We shall have to be careful, then," said Dr. Clucas. "No -excitement, your Honour! No more heart-strain!" - -On the morning of the trial he was up early. Janet heard him humming -to himself in the conservatory as he cut the flowers for the vase in -front of his young wife's picture. When he was ready to go she -helped him on with his overcoat, turning up the collar and putting a -muffler about his neck. And when young Robbie came round with the -dog-cart he stepped up into it with surprising strength. - -And then Janet, who had smuggled a brandy-flask into the luncheon -basket at the back of the dog-cart, stood with a swollen heart and -watched the old man as he went off in the morning mist, with the -awakened rooks cawing over the unseen tops of the trees. - -Three hours later, the Deemster arrived at Castletown. The sun was -up, and there was a crowd at the castle gate. All hats were off as -he passed through the Judge's private passage-way to the dark -robing-room with its deeply recessed window. The Governor, in -General's uniform, was there already, for he sat also in the high -court of the island. - -A few minutes later they were in the Court-house. It was densely -crowded, and all rose as they entered. But at that moment the -Deemster was conscious of one presence only--his own youth in wig and -gown (himself as he used to be forty years before) in the curved -benches for the advocates immediately below. It was Victor. - -Then the prisoner was brought in--a forlorn-looking creature of three -or four-and-twenty, not without traces of former comeliness, but now -a rag of a woman, ill-clad and slatternly. - -When asked to plead she said nothing, therefore the customary plea of -Not Guilty was made for her, and without more ado the -Attorney-General embarked on the history of her crime. - -It was not a case for refinement; the crime was palpable; it had no -redeeming feature, and for the protection of life in the island it -called for the extreme penalty of the law. - -Then, with the usual long pauses, the woman's story was raked out of -the witnesses--her neighbours in the low streets that crept under the -Castle walls, the police and the doctor. She had been an orphan from -her birth, brought up at the expense of the parish by a woman who had -ill-treated her. As a young servant-girl she had been "taken -advantage of" in the big house she lived in, perhaps by the footman, -more probably by an officer of the regiment then garrisoned in the -town. Finally she had married the dead man, lived a cat-and-dog life -with him (there was a dark record of drink and assaults) and at last -stabbed him to the heart in a fatal quarrel and been found standing -over his body with a table-knife in her hand. - -Stowell's cross-examination consisted of three questions only. When -the dead man was found had he anything in his hand? "Yes, a poker," -said the policeman. When the prisoner was arrested were there any -wounds on her? "Yes, three on the head," said the doctor. Were -there any wounds on the dead man's body except the heart-stab from -which he died? "None whatever." - -"Ah!" said the Deemster, and he reached forward to make a note. - -When the Court adjourned for luncheon, the case for the Crown was -over, and it almost seemed as if the rope of the hangman were already -about the prisoner's neck. - -Stowell did not leave the Court-house. He sat in his place with -folded arms and closed eyes. Tommy Vondy, the gaoler, looked in on -him sitting alone, and presently returned (from the direction of the -Deemster's room) with a plate of sandwiches and something in a glass, -but he sent back both untouched. - -When the Court resumed it appeared to be still more crowded and -excited than before. As the Deemster took his seat, he saw that his -son's face was strongly illumined by the sun (which was now streaming -from a lantern light in the roof) and that it was pale and drawn. -Immediately behind Victor a lady was sitting--it was Fenella Stanley. - -Then Stowell rose for the defence. There was a hush, and the -Deemster found himself breathing audibly and wishing that he could -pour something of himself into his son--himself as he used to be in -the old days when God had given him strength. - -But that was only for a moment. Stowell began slowly, almost -nervously, but was soon speaking with complete command, and the -Deemster, who had been bending forward, leaned back. - -He did not intend to call witnesses. Neither would he put the -prisoner into the box. He would content himself with the evidence -for the Crown. He knew no more about the crime than the jury did. -The accused had told him nothing, and degraded as they might think -her, he had not thought it right to invade the sanctity of a woman's -soul. That she had killed her husband was clear. If killing him was -a crime she was guilty. But was it a crime? To answer that let the -jury follow him while he did his best to piece together, from the -evidence before them, the torn manuscript of this poor creature's -story. - -Then followed such speaking as none could remember to have heard in -that court before. Flash after flash of spiritual light seemed to -recreate the stages of the prisoner's life. First, as the child, who -should have been happy as the birds and bright as the flowers, but -had never known one hour of the love and guidance of her natural -protectors. Next, as the young girl, pretty perhaps, with the light -of love dawning on her, but betrayed and abandoned. Next, as the -deserted creature, braving out her disgrace with "Wait! only wait! -My gentleman will come back and marry me yet!" Next, as the badgered -and shame-ridden woman, with all hope gone, saying to her despairing -heart, "What do I care what happens to me now? Not a toss!" and then -marrying (as the last cover for a hunted dog) the brute who -afterwards had beaten her, brutalized her, cursed her, taught her to -drink, and brought her down, down, down to .... what they saw. - -Kill him? Yes, she had killed him--there couldn't be a doubt about -that. But if she had three wounds on her body, and he had only the -wound from which he died, was it not clear as noonday that she had -been the victim of a murderous assault, and had struck back to save -her life? If so her act was not murder and the only righteous -verdict would be Not Guilty. - -For the last passage of his defence Stowell faced full upon the jury, -and spoke in a ringing and searching voice: - -"Long ago, in Galilee, out of the supreme compassion which covered -with forgiveness the transgressions of one who had sinned much but -loved much, it was said, 'Let him that is without sin among you cast -the first stone.' We have all done something we would fain forget, -and when we lay our heads on our pillow we pray that the darkness may -hide it. But does anybody doubt that if the all-seeing Justice could -enter this Court this day another figure would be standing there in -the dock by the side of that unhappy woman--a man in scarlet uniform -perhaps, with decorations on his breast, and that the Deemster would -have to say to him, 'You did this, for you were the first.' Mercy, -then--mercy for the beaten, the broken, the scapegoat, the sinner." - -People said afterwards that Stowell was a full half minute in his -seat before anybody seemed to be aware that he was no longer speaking. - -The spectators had listened without making a sound; the jury (a panel -of stolid Manx farmers) had sat without moving a muscle; the prisoner -had raised her head for the first time during the trial and then -dropped it lower than before and her shoulders had shaken as if from -inaudible sobs; the Governor, who had all day been drawing -geometrical patterns on the sheet of foolscap in front of him, had -let his pencil fall and stared down at the paper, and the Deemster -had looked up at the lantern light from which the sunlight (it had -moved on) was now streaming upon his face, showing at last a solitary -tear that was rolling slowly down his cheek to the end of his -firm-set mouth. - -Then there was a rustle, as if the windows of a room on the edge of -the sea had suddenly been thrown open. The Attorney-General was -speaking again. After the defence they had just listened to (there -being no evidence to rebut) he would waive his right of reply--the -Crown desired justice, not revenge. - -The Deemster's summing-up was the shortest that had ever been heard -from him. There were legal reasons which justified the taking of -human life, but the cases to which they applied were few. If the -jury thought the prisoner had wilfully killed her husband they would -find her Guilty. If they were satisfied from what they had heard -that she had reasonable grounds for thinking that a felony was being -committed upon her which endangered her own life they would find her -Not Guilty. - -Without leaving their box the jury promptly gave a verdict of Not -Guilty; and then the Deemster in a loud, clear, almost triumphant -voice said: - -"Let the prisoner be discharged." - -A few minutes later there was a scene of excitement on the green -within the Castle walls. The spectators, being turned out of the -Court-house with difficulty, were waiting for the chief actors in the -life-drama to come down the stone steps, and from the private door to -the Deemster's room. - -"Wonderful! He snatched the woman out of the jaws of death, Sir!" -"The Deemster's a grand man, but he'll have to be looking to his -laurels!" "Man alive, that was a speech that must have been dear to -a father's heart, though!" - -Stowell was one of the first to appear. He looked pale, almost ill, -and was carrying his soft felt hat in his hand, for the Courthouse -had been close and there was perspiration on his forehead still. A -way was made for him and he passed through the courtyard without -speaking or making sign, until he came under the arch of the -Portcullis and there he was stopped by someone. It was Fenella. She -was waiting for the Governor and hoping she might come upon Stowell -also. Her eyes were red and swollen. - -"How magnificent you were!" she said. And then with a half-tremulous -laugh: "But how could you see into a woman's heart like that? I -shall always be afraid of you in future, Sir!" - -The Deemster came next. He was muffled in his great-coat and scarf, -and was walking heavily on his stick, but there was a proud look in -his uplifted face. With his left hand he grasped Victor's right, but -he did not look at him, and he passed on without a word. Fenella -followed, offering her arm, but he insisted on giving his--the grand -old gentleman to the last. - -But this time the Attorney-General had taken possession of Stowell. -He had lost his case, but one of his "boys" had won it. "I've just -been telling your father I always knew the root of the matter was in -you," he said, and then others gathered around. - -The Governor came last, having had documents to sign, and taking -Stowell's arm, he carried him away, saying, "Come along--they'll kill -you." - -The Deemster's dog-cart had now gone, but the Governor's carriage was -at the gate, with Fenella inside. - -"Don't forget your promise about Ballamoar," she said. - -"I'm going to-morrow," said Stowell. - -Just then there was a commotion among the crowd. The liberated woman -was coming out of the Castle, surrounded by a tumultuous company of -her friends from the back streets. She saw Stowell by the carriage -door, and breaking away from her companions she rushed up to him, -threw herself at his feet, laid hold of his hand and covered it with -kisses. - -"That settles it," said Fenella, in a thick voice, after the woman -had been carried off. "Now you know what the future of your life is -to be--that of the champion of wronged and helpless women." - -At the railway station, and in the railway carriage, Stowell's fellow -advocates overwhelmed him with congratulations, but he hardly heard -them. At last he folded his arms and closed his eyes, and, thinking -he was tired, they left off troubling him. - -On arriving at Ramsey his pulses were beating fast, and on going down -the High Street, past the Old Plough Inn, he hardly felt the ground -under his feet. - -Clashing his door behind him he went into his bedroom and threw -himself down on his bed. An immense joy had taken possession of him. -Ambition, dead so long, had been restored to vivid life under -Fenella's last words. - -And then came a shock. Turning to the table by his bedside, his eyes -fell on the photograph that stood upon it. - -Bessie Collister! - - - -II - -The Deemster had a cheerful homegoing. Young Robbie Creer said -afterwards that he had never seen the old man so strong and hearty. -Driving himself, he saluted everybody on the roads, always by name -and generally in the Anglo-Manx. All the way back it was "How do, -John?" or "Grand day done, Mr. Killip." - -Janet was waiting for him at the porch of Ballamoar. - -"You must be tired after your long day, your Honour?" - -"Not at all!" - -"And Victor--how did he get on, Sir?" - -"Wonderfully! Won his case and covered himself with honour." - -At dinner (he insisted on Janet dining with him) he talked of nothing -but Victor and the trial. - -"He has got his foot on the ladder now, Miss Curphey, and there is no -height to which he may not ascend." - -Janet could do nothing but wipe her shining eyes and say, - -"Aw, well now! Think of that now!" And then, with a wise shake of -her old head, "But nobody can say I didn't know he would make us -proud of him some day." - -Night fell. Janet began to be afraid of the Deemster's excitement. -She remembered Doctor Clucas's order (privately given to her) to -knock at the Deemster's door between six and seven every morning, -and, if she got no answer, to go into the room. She would do so -to-morrow. - -After Janet had gone to bed the Deemster sat at his desk in the -Library and wrote for a long time in his leather-bound book. When he -rose the clock on the landing was striking twelve. - -He closed the book, but instead of putting it under lock and key, as -he had always done before, he left it open on the desk, merely -shutting the lid on it. Then with a long look round the room he put -out the lamps and turned to go upstairs. - -The reaction had begun by this time, and he staggered a little and -laid hold of the handrail. He paused three times on the stairs, but -his weakness did not frighten him. Lighting his candle on the -landing, he wound the clock, extinguished the lamp that stood by it -and faced the last flight with a smile. All was silent in the house -now. - -On reaching his own bedroom he paused again, and then stepped down -the corridor to Victor's. The door was ajar. He pushed it open, -took a step into the empty room and looked round--at the cocoa-nut -matting, the rugs, the bed in the shadow, the discoloured school -trunk in the corner. And then he smiled again. But he was breathing -deeply at intervals and had the look of a man who knew that he was -doing familiar things for the last time. - -The window in his own room was open, and the smell of tropical plants -(especially the magnolia, with its sleep-inducing odour) was coming -up from the garden. He remembered that his own father had brought -them from the East long ago, when he was himself a boy. - -The sky was dark, but the hidden moon broke through silvery clouds -for a moment, and, looking through the surrounding blackness, he saw -the bald crown of Snaefell, far beyond the trees and above the glen. -He remembered that he had seen it so all the way up since he was a -child. - -He closed the curtains slowly and taking his candle again he walked -around the room and looked long at the pictures on the walls. They -were chiefly portraits or miniatures of Victor, at various periods of -childhood and youth--the latest being a photograph sent home to him -from abroad. - -That was the last oscillation of the pendulum. When he was about to -prepare for bed he found his strength exhausted, and he was compelled -to sit several times while he undressed. But he continued to smile, -and when he lay down at length and put his head on the-pillow he did -it with a will. - -Then he closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath, as one who has gone -through a long day's labour but has seen it finish up well at the -end. And then he closed his eyes and the surge of sleep passed over -him. - -Outside the house everything seemed to slumber. It was a night -strangely calm and dark. The tall elms stood like soundless -sentinels in the darkness. Not a leaf stirred. The rivers flowed -without noise, as if a supernatural hand had been laid on them to -silence them. The only sound was the slow boom of the sea, which -seemed to come up out of the ground and to be the pulse of the earth -itself. The deep mystery of night was over all. - -Towards morning there was a faint waft of wind in the trees and along -the grass. Was it the movement in the earth's bosom of the new day -about to be born? Or some invisible presence striding along with -noiseless footsteps? - -Within the house everything seemed to sleep. But the Deemster lay -dead. - - - -III - -"Mr. Victor, Sir! Mr. Victor!" - -It was Robbie Creer, who, after knocking in vain at Stowell's door in -the grey hours of morning, was shouting up at his window. He had -driven into town in the dog-cart and the little mare was steaming -with perspiration. - -Stowell threw up the window and heard the dread news. After a moment -he answered, in a voice that sounded strange in Robbie's ears: - -"Wait for me. I will go back with you." - -When he was ready to go he wrote a message to Fenella, and left it -for Mrs. Quayle to send off as soon as the telegraph office opened: - -"_He has gone, heaven, forgive me. I am going home now._" - -It was Sunday morning, and the sleeping streets echoed to the rattle -of the flying wheels. When they got into the country (they were -taking the shortest cuts) the farms were lying idle and quiet. -Stowell sat with folded arms while they raced past the whitewashed -cottages with thatched roofs, and scattered flocks of geese that went -off with screams and stretched necks. - -On arriving at Ballamoar he paused before entering the house. The -pastoral tranquillity of the place was heart-breaking. The sun had -risen, the rooks were cawing, the linnets were twittering in the -eaves, a kitten was playing with a butterfly in the porch--it was -just as if nothing had happened during the night. - -Janet was in his father's room, with red eyes and a handkerchief in -her hand. She did not speak, but her silence seemed to say, "Why -didn't you come before?" - -Stowell advanced to the side of the bed. The august face on the -pillow, in the majesty and tranquillity of death, had never before -looked so calm and noble, but that also seemed to say: "Why didn't -you come before?" He reached over and put his lips to the cold -forehead. And then, with head down, he hurried from the room. - -He could never afterwards remember what he did during the rest of -that day--only that to escape from the vague cheerfulness, the hushed -bustle, the half-smothered hysteria, which come to a house after a -death, he had strolled along the shore and past the ruined church in -which he had walked with Fenella. - -At length Janet came to him in the library to say "Good-night" and to -sob out something about not grieving too much. And then he was left -alone. - -Sitting at the desk, where his father had sat the night before, he -took up the leather-bound book and read it from end to end--not -without a sense of looking into the sanctuary of another soul, where -only God's eyes should see. - -It was a large volume, of some five hundred quarto pages, with -"Isobel's Diary" inscribed on its first page, and these words below: - - - "Inasmuch as I cannot believe that my beloved companion who has - died to-day is lost to me even in this life, and being convinced - that the divine purpose in leaving me behind is that I may care - for and guard her child, I dedicate this book to the record of my - sacred duty." - - -Then followed, in the Deemster's steady handwriting, a daily entry, -sometimes only a phrase or a line, sometimes a page, but always about -his son: - - - "This morning in the library, making my desk under your portrait - his altar, Parson Cowley baptised your boy--Janet Curphey - standing godmother, and the Attorney his other sponsor. We - called him Victor, so the last of your dear wishes has been - fulfilled." - - -Stowell looked up and around him. He was on the very spot of that -scene of so many years ago. Then came records of his childhood, his -childish talk, his childish rhymes, his childish ailments: - - - "Your boy contracted a cold yesterday, and fearing it might - develop into bronchitis, I sat up most of the night that I might - go into the nursery at intervals to mend the fire under the steam - kettle, Janet being worn out and sleepy. Thank God his breathing - is better this morning!" - - -Stowell felt as if he were choking. Then came the records of his -school-days; his expulsion; the slack times before he set to work; -the bright ones when he was a student-at-law; the dark ones when he -was going headlong to the dogs. After these latter entries it would -be: - - - "A son is a separate being, Isobel. I can only stand and wait." - - -Or sometimes, as if for comfort, a line from one of the great books, -not rarely the Bible: - - - "Thy way is in the sea, and thy path is the great waters, and thy - footsteps are not known." - - -It was now the middle of the night. A dog was howling somewhere in -the farm. Stowell paused and thought of the superstition about a -howling dog and a dead body. When he resumed his reading he turned -the pages with a trembling hand: - - - "It is six months since Victor returned to the island and he has - only been here twice. I had hoped he would come to live with me - at Ballamoar. But I must not complain. Nature looks forward, - not backward. No son can love his father as the father loves the - son. That is the law of life, Isobel, and we who are fathers - must reconcile ourselves to it." - - -Stowell felt his head reel and his eyes swim. If he had only known. -If somebody had only told him! - -The fire behind him had gone out by this time and he had begun to -shiver. But he turned back to the book for the few remaining pages. -And then came a shock. They were all about Fenella, and the -Deemster's hope that she and his son would marry. - - - "Never were two young people better matched to the outer eye, - Isobel--that splendid girl with her conquering loveliness or your - son with his mother's face. Her influence on him seems to be - wonderful. She has only been a month back from London, but he is - like a new man already." - - -Overwhelmed with confusion Stowell tried to close the book, but he -could not do so. - - - "A man looks for a woman who is a heroine, and a woman for a man - who is a hero, and please God these two have found each other." - - -Then came a glowing account of the trial at Castle Rushen, and then: - - - "So it's all well at last, Isobel. Your son can do without me - now. He needs his father no longer. With that fine woman by his - side he will go up and up. They will marry and carry on the - tradition of the Ballamoars. It is the dearest wish of my heart - that they should do so." - - -There was only one entry after that, and it ran: - - - "I am tired and my work is done. Now I can rejoin you, having - waited so long. When I close my eyes to-night I shall see your - face--I know I shall. So Good-night, Isobel! Or should I say, - Good-morning?" - - -The clock on the landing was striking three--the most solemn hour of -day and night, for it is the hour between. Stowell, with a heavy -heart, the book in one hand and his candle in the other, was going to -bed. Reaching the door of his father's room he dropped to his knees. - -"Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive me!" - -But after a while a light seemed to break on him. Where his father -now was he would know that there was no help for it--that he, too, -must follow the line of honour. - -"Yes," he thought, rising and going on to his own room. "I must do -the right, whatever it may cost me." - - - -IV - -On the morning of the burial, Stowell received a letter from Bessie -Collister: - - - "Dere Victor, - - "I am sorry to here from Alick about the death of the Deemster - you must feel it verry much the loss of such a good kinde father - everrybody is talking about him and saying he was the best - gentleman that everr was thank you for the nice cloths Mrs. - Quayle bought me. Alick is very kinde-- - - "Bessie." - - -The poor, illiterate, inadequate, ill-spent message made Stowell's -heart grow cold, and with a certain shame he read it by stealth and -then smuggled it away. - -The news of the Deemster's death had fallen on the Manx people like a -thunder-bolt. The one great man of Man had gone. It was almost as -if the island had lost its soul. - -No work was done on the day of the funeral. At ten o'clock in the -morning the whole population seemed to be crossing the Curragh lanes -to Ballamoar. By eleven the broad lawn was covered with a vast -company of all classes, from the officials to the crofters. A long -line of carriages, cars and stiff carts, lined the roads that -surrounded the house. - -The day had broken fair, with a kind of mild brightness, but out on -that sandy headland the wind had risen and white wreaths of mist were -floating over the land. It was late September and the leaves were -falling rapidly. - -Nobody entered the house. According to Manx custom all stood -outside. At half-past eleven the front door was opened and the body -was brought out, under a pall, and laid on four chairs in front of -it. A moment later Victor Stowell came behind, bare-headed and very -pale. A wide space was left for him by the bier. A creeper that -covered the house was blood-red at his back. - -Somebody started a hymn--"Abide with me"--and it was taken up by the -vast company in front. The rooks swirled and screamed over the heads -of the singers. The bald head of old Snaefell looked down through -the trees. - -Then the procession was formed. It took the grassy lane at the back -by which the Deemster had always gone to church. Everybody walked, -and six sets of bearers claimed the right "to carry the old man home." - -They sang two hymns on the way: "Lead, Kindly Light" and "Rock of -Ages." Between the verses the wind whistled through the gorse hedges -on either side. Sometimes it raised the skirt of the pall and showed -the bare oak beneath. - -When they reached the cross roads in front of the church the bell -began to toll. At that moment a white mist was driving across the -church tower and almost obscuring it. - -The Bishop of the island was at the gate, waiting for the procession, -but Parson Cowley, pale and trembling, was also there, and he would -have fought to the death for his right to bury the Deemster. - -"I am the Resurrection and the Life," he began in his quavering -voice, as the procession came up, and at the next moment the mists -vanished. The little churchyard with its weather-beaten stones, -seemed to look up at the wonderful sky and out on the sightless sea. -The bearers had to bend their knees as they passed through the low -door. - -Every seat in the body of the church was occupied, and great numbers -had to remain outside. But Victor Stowell sat alone in the pew of -the Ballamoars with the marble tablet on the wall behind him--four -hundred years of his family and he the last of them. During the -reading of the Epistle the lashing and wailing of the wind outside -almost drowned the Bishop's voice. - -The service ended with the singing of another hymn, "O God our help -in ages past." Everybody knew the words, and they were taken up by -the people outside: - - "_Time, like an ever-rolling stream, - Bears all its sons away._" - - -Thus far Victor Stowell had gone through everything in a kind of -stupor. He was conscious that the island was there to do honour to -her greatest son, but that was nothing to him now. When he came to -himself he was standing by the open vault of the Stowells. A line of -stones lay over the closed part of it, some of them old and worn and -with the lettering almost obliterated. But a cross of white marble, -which had been dislodged from its place, lay at his feet, and it bore -the words: - - - "_To the dear memory of Isabel, the beloved wife of Douglas - Stowell, Deemster of this Isle._" - - -Victor's throat was throbbing. He was losing (what no man can lose -twice) his father and greatest friend, whose slightest word and wish -should be as sacred to him as his soul. - -He heard the words "dust to dust" and they were like the -reverberation of eternity. Then came a dead void, after Parson -Cowley's voice had ceased, and it was just as if the pulse of the -world had stopped. - -And then, at that last moment as he stepped forward and looked down, -and everybody fell back for him, and only the sea's boom was audible -as it beat on the cliffs below, somebody (he did not turn to look, -for he knew who it was) coming up to his side, and putting her arm -through his, said in a tremulous voice, - -"He is better there. In their death they are not divided." - -It was Fenella. - -At the next moment, something he could not resist, something -unconquerable and overwhelming, made him put his arms about her and -kiss her. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN - -THE SAVING OF KATE KINKADE - -The Governor was waiting for Stowell at the side gate to Ballamoar. - -"You look ill, my boy, and no wonder," he said. "Fenella and I are -to take a short cruise in the yacht before the autumn ends. You must -come along with us." - -For the farmers and fishermen who had travelled long distances a meal -had been provided in the barn--a kind of robustious after-wake for -the Deemster, presided over by the elder and younger Robbie Creers. - -Alick Gell alone returned with Stowell to the house. In his black -frock coat and tall silk hat he had walked back from the Church by -Stowell's side, snuffling audibly but saying nothing. To Stowell's -relief he was still silent through luncheon and for several hours -afterwards. It was not until they were in the porch, and Gell was on -the point of going, that anything of consequence was said. - -"What about Bessie?" asked Stowell. - -"Oh, Bessie?" said Gell (he looked a little confused) "Bessie's all -right, I think. But there's trouble coming in that quarter, I'm -afraid." - -"What trouble?" - -"As we were walking along Langness yesterday--I went down to tell her -about the Deemster--we met Cæsar Qualtrough coming from the farm." - -"Qualtrough?" - -"You know--father of the young scoundrel who got us into that scrape -at King William's." - -"I remember." - -"He's a friend of Dan Baldromma's, and Dan is a tenant of my father's -and .... But good Lord, what matter! I've worse things than that to -worry about." - -As Gell was going out of the gate, the night was falling and the -stars were out, and he was saying to himself, "Does he really care -for the girl, or is it only a sense of duty?" - -And Stowell, as he closed the door and went back into the house -(empty and vault-like now, as a house is on the first night after the -being who has been the soul of it has been left outside) was -thinking, "I can't allow Alick to be my scapegoat any longer." - -But at the next moment he was thinking of Fenella. With mingled -shame and joy he was asking himself what was being thought of the -incident in the churchyard--by Fenella herself, by the Governor, by -everybody. - -Next day the Attorney-General came with the will. Except for a few -legacies to servants, the Deemster had left everything to his son. - -"So, with your mother's fortune, you are one of the rich men of the -island, now, Victor. A great responsibility, my boy! I pray God you -may choose the right partner. But" (with a meaning smile) "that will -be all right, I think." - -During the next days Stowell occupied himself with Joshua Scarff, the -Deemster's clerk (a tall, thin, elderly man wearing dark spectacles) -in paying-off the legacies. Only one of these gave him any anxiety. -This was Janet's, and it was accompanied by a pension, in case Victor -should decide to superannuate her. Against doing so all his heart -cried out, but something whispered that if Janet were gone it might -be the easier for Bessie. - -Janet was in floods of tears at the possibility. - -"I couldn't have believed it of the Deemster!" she said. "I really -couldn't! You can keep the legacy, dear. I have no use for it -except to give it back to you. But I won't leave Ballamoar. 'Deed, -I won't! Not until another woman comes to be mistress in it, and -wants me to go. And she never will, the darling--I'll trust her for -that, anyway." - -A day or two later Stowell was in his father's room, when he came -upon an envelope inscribed: "_To be opened by my son._" It contained -a ring, a beautiful and valuable gem, with a note saying: - - -"_This was your mother's engagement ring. I wish you to give it to -Fenella Stanley. Take it yourself._" - - -Stowell was stupefied. Struggling with a sense of his duty to the -girl whom he had sent to Derby Haven he had been telling himself that -he must never see Fenella again. But here was a sacred command from -the dead. - -For three days he thought he could not possibly go to Government -House. On the fourth day he went. - -The beauty and charm of the atmosphere of Fenella's home were -heart-breaking. And Fenella herself, in a soft tea-gown, was almost -more than he could bear to look upon. - -She, too, seemed embarrassed, and when Miss Green (an English -counterpart of Janet) left them alone with each other, and he gave -her the ring, saying what his father had told him to do with it, her -embarrassment increased. - -She held it in her fingers, turned it over and looked at it, and -said, "How lovely! How good of him!" And then, trembling and -tingling, and with a slightly heightened colour, she looked at -Stowell. - -Suddenly a thought flashed upon him. Why had his father told him to -take the ring to her himself? The answer was speaking in Fenella's -eyes--that, at the topmost moment of their love, he should put it on. - -At the next instant the Governor entered the drawing-room, and -Fenella, holding up her hand (she had put the ring on for herself by -this time) cried: - -"See what the Deemster has left to me!" - -"Beautiful!" said the Governor, and then he looked from Stowell to -his daughter. - -Stowell rose to go. He had the sense of flying from the house. -Fenella must have thought him a fool. The Governor must have thought -him a fool. But better be a fool than a traitor! - -A week passed and then an idea came to him. He would tell the truth -to Bessie's people--the whole truth if necessary. That would commit -him once for all to the line of honour. Having taken that public -plunge there could be no looking back, and the bitter struggle -between his passion and his duty would then be over. - -With a certain pride at the thought of being about to do an heroic -thing he set out one day for Ramsey, intending to return by -Baldromma. But on entering his outer office his young clerk told him -that Mr. Daniel Collister was in his private room, that he had been -waiting there for two hours, and refusing to go away. - -Dan, with his short, gross figure, was standing astride on the -hearthrug, and without so much as a bow he plunged into his business. - -A respectable man's house was in disgrace. His step-daughter had run -away. Been carried off by a scoundrel--there couldn't be a doubt of -it. A month gone and not the whisper of a word from her. The mother -was broken-hearted, so he had been traipsing the island over to find -the girl. - -"I belave I'm on the track of her at last though. She's down -Castletown way, and the man that's been the cause of her trouble -isn't far off, I'm thinking." - -"And whom do you say it is, Mr. Collister?" - -"Somebody that's middling close to yourself, sir--Mr. Alick Gell, the -son of the Spaker." - -"No, no, no!" - -"Who else then?" - -Stowell tried to speak but could not. - -"Wasn't he the cause of her disgrace at the High Bailiff's? And -hasn't he been keeping up his bad character ever since--standing by -the side of disorderly walkers in the Douglas Coorts, they're saying?" - -He must have promised to marry the girl. But he hadn't. He (Dan) -had been to the Registrar's at Douglas and found that out. - -"The toot! The boght! The booby! I was warning her enough. The -man that takes advantage of a dacent girl isn't much for marrying her -afterwards." - -Remembering Dan's share in the catastrophe, Stowell was feeling the -vertigo of a temptation to take the gross creature by the neck and -fling him through the window. - -"Why do you come to me?" he asked. - -"To ask you to tell your friend that he's got to make an honest woman -of the girl." - -"Is that all you are thinking about?" - -Dan drew a quick breath, then dug both hands into the upright pockets -of his trousers, thrust forward his thick neck, with a gesture -peculiar to the bull, and answered: - -"No, I'm thinking of myself as well, and what for shouldn't I? I'm -going to stand up for my own rights, too. The man that treats my -girl like that has got to marry her, and I'm not going to be -satisfied with nothing less." - -Then picking up his billycock hat and making for the door he said: - -"I lave it with you, Mr. Stowell, Sir. If the Dempster was the grand -gentleman people are saying, his son will be seeing justice done to -me and mine. If not, the island will be too hot for the guilty man, -I'm thinking." - -When Dan had gone Stowell felt sick and dizzy, and as if he were -drawing back from the edge of a precipice. His heroic act of -self-sacrifice had dwindled to a ridiculous weakness. - -This man, with his blatant vulgarity of mind and soul, at Ballamoar! -His father-in-law! A member of his family! Riding over him with a -degrading tyranny! In the dining-room, with his broad buttocks to -the fire--never, never, never! - -Hardly had Dan's footsteps ceased on the stair when the young clerk -came from the outer office in great excitement. - -"His Excellency is here. He's coming upstairs, Sir." - - - -II - -"Helloa, I've found you." - -The Governor was in yachting costume. - -"Well, the yacht is lying outside, and Fenella and I are doing a -little circumnavigating of the island, so come along." - -Stowell tried to excuse himself, but the Governor would listen to no -excuses. - -"Everybody says you are looking like a ghost these days, and so you -are. Therefore come, let's get a breath of sea-air into you." - -"But your Excellency...." - -"I've brought one of the ship's boys ashore for your bag, so pack it -quick...." - -"But really...." - -"Where's your bedroom and I'll pack it myself." - -"No, no! But if I must...." - -"That's better! I'll smoke a pipe and wait for you." - -"After all, why not?" thought Stowell, as he packed his bag and put -on flannels and a blue jacket. This flying away from Fenella was -unworthy of a man. It was cowardly, contemptible. He must learn to -resist temptation. - -Half an hour later he was riding with the Governor in a dinghy over -the fresh waters of the bay towards a large white yacht, "The -Fenella," with the red ensign fluttering over her. The gangway was -open and as Stowell stepped on to the spotless deck of the ship, her -namesake, also in yachting costume, was waiting to receive him. - -The mainsail, mizzen and jib being set, the grey-bearded captain, in -blue with brass buttons, called on his boys to swing the dinghy up to -the davits and haul in the anchor. In a few minutes more, to the -hiss and simmer of the sea, the yacht was running free before the -wind, leaving the town to the south behind it. - -The bell rang for luncheon, and with the Governor and Fenella, -Stowell crossed to the companion and went down to the saloon. Books -and field-glasses were lying about the sofas and the table was -glistening with silver and glass. Blue silk curtains, with the -sunlight shining through them, were fluttering over the skylight and -the port-holes. How fresh! How charming! - -When they came up on deck an hour afterwards they were doubling the -Point of Ayre, and the lighthouse at the northernmost end of it was -looking like a marble column with a glittering eye. Towards six -o'clock they cast anchor for the night off Peel. - -The sun was then setting, and the herring fleet (a hundred boats) -going out for the night were passing in front of the red sky like a -flight of black birds. By the time dinner was over the drowsy spirit -of the sunset had died over the waters behind them, the twilight had -deepened to a ghostly grey, and the moon had risen over the little -fishing town in front and the gaunt walls of the ruined Peel Castle -which stands on an island rock. - -The Governor, who had sent ashore for the day's newspapers, remained -in the cabin to read them. But Stowell and Fenella sat on deck under -the moon and the stars. The air had become very quiet. There was no -sound anywhere except the tranquil wash of the waves against the -yacht and the whispering of the sea outside. - -Fenella talked and laughed. Stowell laughed and talked. They found -it so easy to talk to each other. - -The night wore on. The moon going westward made the broken walls of -the Castle stand up black above the shore, with its empty -window-sockets like eyes looking from the lighter sky. - -Stowell talked of the old ruin and its legendary and historical -associations--St. Patrick, the spectre hound (_the Mauthe Doa_), the -ecclesiastical prison and the graves in the roofless Cathedral. - -"But I'll tell you a story that beats all that," he said. - -"About a woman of course?" said Fenella. - -"Yes--a fallen woman." - -"Ah!" - -"Her name was Kate Kinrade. She gave birth to an illegitimate child, -and the Bishop--he was a saint--thinking that her conduct tended to -the dishonour of the Christian name, ordered that, for the saving of -her soul, she should be dragged after a boat across the bay of Peel -on the fair of St. Patrick at the height of the market." - -"And was she?" - -"The fishermen refused at first to carry out the censure, and then -excused themselves on the ground that St. Patrick's day was too -tempestuous. But being threatened with fines, they did it at -last--in the depth of winter." - -Fenella's gaiety had gone. Stowell gazed at her face in the -moonlight. It was quivering and her bosom was heaving. - -"And the Bishop was a saint, you say?" - -"If ever there was one." - -"He ordered the woman to be dragged through the sea at the tail of a -boat?" - -"Yes." - -"And what did he do to _the man_?" - -Stowell gasped. There was silence for a moment, and then the -Governor's voice came from the skylight of the cabin: - -"Are you people never going to turn in?" - -"Presently." - -"I am, anyway." - -It was late. The lights of the little town had blinked out one by -one. Only the red light on the stone pier was burning. - -Fenella recovered her gaiety after a while, shouted for echoes to the -Castle rock, and then took Stowell's arm to go down the companion. - -On reaching the darkened saloon she stepped on tiptoe and dropped her -voice under pretence of not disturbing her father, who would be -asleep. At the door of her cabin she ceased laughing and said, - -"Hush! I'm going to say something." - -"What?" - -"I don't know if you're aware of it, but ever since I came home -you've been calling me 'Miss Stanley,' and I've been calling -you--anything." - -"Well?" - -"We used to call each other by our Christian names before. Couldn't -we go back to that?" - -"Would you like to?" - -There was a pause, and then, in a whisper, - -"Victor!" - -"Fenella!" - -"Good-night!" - -It had been like a kiss. - -Stowell went to his cabin in rapture, in pain, with a delicious -thrill and a sense of stifling hypocrisy. What a hypocrite he had -been! It was not to resist temptation but to dally with it that he -had come on this cruise. - -He was there under false pretences. He had pledged himself to the -girl at Derby Haven, and yet.... - -Thank God, he had gone no farther! There was only one way of escape -from the perpetual fire of temptation--to hasten his marriage with -Bessie Collister. He must see her as soon as possible and suggest -that they should marry immediately. It was heart-breaking, but there -was no help for it, if he was to stand upright as an honourable man. - -Dan Baldromma? Well, what of him? He could shut the door on Dan--of -course he could! - -Next morning Stowell was the first on deck. The air was salt and -chill; the day had not yet opened its eyes; there was a whirring of -wings and a calling of sea-birds; and through a sleepy white mist, -that might have been the smoke of the moon, the herring fleet were -coming like pale ghosts back to harbour. - -A fresh breeze sprang up with the sunrise and the Captain lifted -anchor and stood out towards the south. Sheep were bleating on the -head-land of Contrary, and as they opened the broad bay of the -Niarbyl the thatched cottages under the cliffs were smoking for -breakfast. - -When they reached Port Erin the Governor came up and ordered anchor -to be cast again, saying they would lie there and go out with the -herring fleet in the evening. - -Seeing his opportunity, Stowell said he would like to go ashore for a -few hours--a little business. - -"Mind you're back by four o'clock then--we'll sail at high-water." - -As Stowell was being sculled ashore in the dinghy he was saying to -himself: - -"No Kate Kinrade for me--never, never!" - - - -III - -An hour later Stowell was in Derby Haven, a little fishing village, -smelling of sea-wrack and echoing with the cry of gulls. - -The Misses Brown, in their oiled ringlets and faded satin dresses, -received him, in their old maids' sitting-room, with much ceremony, -and he speedily realised that Gell, in trying to shield him, had gone -farther than he expected. - -"You wish to see Miss Collister? Well, since you are such a close -friend of Mr. Gell there can be no objection.... Bessie! A -gentleman to see you." - -Stowell heard Bessie coming downstairs with great alacrity, but on -seeing him she drew up with a certain embarrassment. - -"Oh, it's you?" - -She was shorter than he had thought, and the impression made by her -photograph of something common in her beauty was deepened by the -reality. - -"Should we take a walk?" he said. - -She hesitated for a moment, then went upstairs and returned presently -in a round hat and a close-fitting costume which sat awkwardly upon -her. What a change! Where was the free, warm, natural, full-bosomed -girl with bare neck and sunburnt arms who had fascinated him in the -glen? - -They took the unfrequented path on the western side of Langness--a -long serpentine tongue of land which protruded from the open mouth of -the sea. He tried to begin upon the subject of his errand but found -it impossible to do so. - -"Bye and bye," he thought, "bye and bye." - -Bessie kept step with him, but was almost silent. He asked if she -was comfortable in her new quarters, and she said they were lonesome -after the farm, but old Miss Brown was a dear and Miss Ethel a "dozey -duck." - -The common expression humiliated him. He inquired if she had been -able to relieve her mother's anxiety, and she answered no, how could -she, without letting her stepfather know where she was? - -"They're telling me he's travelling the island over looking for me, -but I don't know why. He was always dead nuts on me when I was at -home." - -Again he felt ashamed. He found it impossible to keep up a -conversation with the girl. To attempt to do so was like throwing a -stone into the sand--no echo, no response. - -Only once did Bessie say anything for herself. She was walking on -the landward side of the path, and seeing an old man, with a pair of -horses, grubbing a hungry-looking field, with a cloud of sea-gulls -swirling behind him, she said it was dirty land, full of scutch, and -the farmer was laying it open to the frosts of winter. - -Stowell was feeling the sweat on his forehead. How was it possible -to lift up a girl like this? She would be the farm girl to the last. -Good Lord, what magic was there in marriage to change people and -ensure their happiness? - -Ballamoar? That lonesome place inside the tall trees! He might shut -out her family, but would not she--illiterate, uninteresting, -inadequate--shut out his friends? And then, he and she together -there, with nothing in common, alone, in the long nights of winter -.... Oh God! - -Ashamed of thinking like that of the girl, and having reached the -lighthouse by this time, he drew her arm through his and turned to go -back. The warmth of the contact revived a little of the former -thrill, and he laughed and talked. - -The voice of the sea was low that day, and across the bay came shouts -and cheers in fresh young voices--the boys of King William's were -playing football. That brought memories to both of them and he began -to talk about Gell. - -"Dear old Alick, he's such a good fellow, isn't he?" - -"'Deed he is," said Bessie. - -"By the way, he's a sort of old flame of yours, I believe," said -Stowell, looking sideways at the girl, and Bessie blushed and -laughed, but made no answer. - -Those black eyes, those full red lips. Yes, this was the girl who.... - -But the idea of a marriage founded on the passion which had brought -them together revolted him now, and he let Bessie's arm fall to his -side. - -When they got back to the old maid's cottage he had still said -nothing of what he had come to say. "Later on," he was telling -himself, but a secret voice inside was whispering, "Never! It is -impossible!" - -The elder of the Miss Browns followed him to the gate to ask if he -did not see a great improvement in her charge, and when he said that -Bessie seemed to be a little subdued, she cried: - -"Bessie? Oh dear no, not generally! Ask Mr. Gell." - -Perhaps the girl was not well to-day--they had thought she had not -been very well lately. - -"And how is she getting on with...." (the word stuck in his throat) -"with her lessons?" - -"Wonderfully! Of course she has long arrears to make up, but the way -she works to fit herself for her new station .... well, it's enough -to make a person cry, really." - -Stowell felt as if something were taking him by the throat. - -"In fact my sister and I used to wonder and wonder what she did with -her bedroom candles until we found out she was sitting up after -everybody had gone to sleep to learn her grammar and spelling." - -Stowell felt as if something had struck him in the face. Every hard -thought about Bessie seemed to be wiped out of his mind in a moment. - -Going back to Port Erin (he walked all the way) he could think of -nothing but that girl sitting up in her bedroom to educate herself, -in her poor little way, that she might become worthy to be his wife. - -If he disappointed her now what would become of her? Would she kill -herself? Would the world kill her? Kate Kinrade? The days of the -Bishop and the woman were not over yet. - -No, he must keep his pledge, and make no more wry faces about it. If -it had been his duty before it was more than ever his duty now. - -But Fenella? - -He must put her out of his mind for ever. He would be the most -unhappy man alive, but then his own happiness was not the only thing -he had to think about. He could not live any longer under false -pretences. He must find some way of telling Fenella that he had -engaged himself while she was away--that he was a pledged man. - -But what then? There would be nothing more between them as long as -they lived--not a smile or the clasp of a hand! She whom he had -loved so long, never having loved anybody else! It would be like -signing his death-warrant. - -The dead leaves from the roadside were driving over his feet; his -eyes ached and his throat throbbed, but he gulped down his emotion. -After all he would be the only sufferer! Thank God for that anyway! - -As he reached Port Erin, he saw the white sails of the yacht against -the blue sea and sky. - -"Yes, I must tell Fenella--I must tell her to-night," he thought. - - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN - -THE EVERLASTING SONG OF THE SEA - -"Ah, here you are at last! Just in time! A breeze sprang up an hour -ago, and the Captain would have gone without you but for me. The -herring fleet have gone already. Look, there they are, sailing into -the sunset." - -Fenella was in high spirits. Having prevailed upon the Governor to -let them have a real night with the herrings (turning the yacht into -a fishing boat) she had borrowed a net and hired fishermen's -clothes--oilskins and a sou'-wester for herself and a "ganzy" and big -boots for Stowell. - -It was impossible to resist the contagion of Fenella's gaiety. "Why -try?" thought Stowell. It would be his last night of happiness. -To-morrow he would have to bury it for ever. - -In a few minutes, having cleared the harbour, they had opened the -land on either side and were standing out for the fishing ground. -Within two hours, in the midst of the fleet, they were sailing over -the Carlingford sands, midway between the island and Ireland, and the -sea-birds skimming above the water were showing them the shoal. - -Dinner was over, and Stowell, in jersey and big boots up to his -thighs, saw Fenella come on deck in her oilskin coat and -sou'-wester--with the new and surprising beauty which fresh garments, -whatever they are, give to every woman in the eyes of the man who -loves her. - -What shouts! What laughter! Stowell kept saying to himself: - -"Why not? It will soon be over." - -They slackened sail and waited for the sun to go down before shooting -their nets. Presently the great ball of flame descended into the -sea, the admiral of the fleet ran his flag to his masthead, and the -Captain cried, "Shoot!" - -Then the brown net, with its floats, was dropped over the stern -(Fenella taking a hand and shouting with the men), the foresail was -hauled down, and the mizzen set to keep the ship head to the wind. -And then, all being snug for the night, came the fisherman's prayer: - -"_Dy hannie Patrick Noo shin as nyn maaty_" (May St. Patrick bless us -and our boat) with something about the living and the dead--the crew -and the fish. - -After that came the throwing of the salt, a more robustious and less -religious ceremony, which threw Fenella into fits of laughter. - -"What does it mean?" she asked. - -"Goodness knows!" - -"How delightful!" - -The grey twilight came down from the northern heavens, and then night -fell--a dark night without moon but with a world of stars. Stowell -and Fenella were leaning over the side to watch the phosphorescent -gleams which, like flashes of light under the surface, came from the -fish that were darting away from the prow. - -"Isn't it wonderful--the fish going on and on to the goal of their -perpetual travels?" said Fenella. - -"They always come back to the place they were spawned, though," said -Stowell. - -"Like humans, are they? You remember--'Back to the heart's place -here I keep for thee.'" - -Stowell felt as if a hand were at his throat again. "Bye and bye," -he thought. Before they turned in for the night he would tell her -everything. - -Suddenly there was a crash at the stern--the anchor had been lifted -up and then banged down on the deck. - -"What's that?" cried Fenella. - -"They're proving the nets to see if the fish are coming," said -Stowell, and hurrying aft together they found the water milky white -and full of irridescent rays. - -A couple of warps of the net were hauled aboard, and twelve or -fifteen herring fell on to the deck. Fenella picked them up, -wriggling, cheeping and twisting in her hands and threw them into a -basket--she was in a fever of excitement. - -After that several of the boats that were fishing alongside called -across to know the result of the proving, and the Captain answered -them in Manx, with the crude symbolism of the sea. - -"Let me do it next time," said Fenella. - -"Do you think you can, miss?" asked the Captain. - -"She can do anything," said Stowell, and when the next boat called, -Fenella (with Stowell to prompt her) stood ready to reply. - -"_R'ou promal, bhoy?_" cried the voice out of the darkness. - -"What's he saying? Quick!" - -"He's asking were you proving, boy. Say '_Va_--I was.'" - -Fenella put her open palms at each side of her mouth, under her -sou'-wester, and cried, "_Va!_" - -"_Quoid oo er y piyr?_" - -"He asks what you found in your net. Say '_Pohnnar_--a child.'" - -"Oh my goodness! _Pohnnar_," cried Fenella. - -"_Cre'n eash dy pohnnar?_" - -"He asks what is the age of your child. Say '_Dussan ny -quieg-yeig_--twelve to fifteen.'" - -"My goodness gracious! _Dussan ny quieg-yeig_," cried Fenella. - -By this time everybody was in convulsions of laughter, and Stowell -could scarcely resist the impulse to throw his arms about Fenella and -kiss her. "Soon! Soon! I must tell her soon!" he thought. - -The wind had dropped and a great stillness had fallen on the sea. -The glow from the lights of the Dublin was in the western sky; the -revolving light of the Chicken Rock (the most southerly point of Man) -was in the east; and for two miles round lay the herring boats, with -their watch-lights burning on the roofs of their net houses, and -looking like stars which had fallen from the darkening sky on to the -bosom of the sea. - -Fenella began to sing, and before Stowell knew what he was doing he -was singing with her: - - She: _Oh Molla-caraine, where got you your gold?_ - He: _Lone, lone, you have left me here._ - - -It was entrancing--the hour, the surroundings, the charm and sonority -of the sea! "But this is madness," thought Stowell. It would only -make it the harder to do--what he had to do. - -Nevertheless he went on, and when they came to the end of another -Manx ballad _Kiree fo naightey_ (the sheep under the snow) he said: - -"Would you like to know where that old song was written?" - -"Where?" - -"In Castle Rushen--by a poor wretch whose life had been sworn away by -a vindictive woman." - -"And what had he done to her? Betrayed her, and then deserted her -for another woman, I suppose. That's the one thing a woman can never -forgive--never should, perhaps." - -"I must tell her soon," thought Stowell. But he could think of no -way to begin--no natural way to lead up to what he had to say. - -The night was now very dark and silent. The majesty and solemnity -around were grand and moving. Fenella, who had been laughing all the -evening, was serious enough at last. - -"It's almost as if the sea, grown old, had gone to sleep with the -going down of the sun, isn't it?" she said. - -"The sea isn't always like this, though," said Stowell. - -"No, it can be very cruel, can't it? Rolling on and on, with its -incessant, monotonous roar through the ages! What heartless things -it has done! Millions and millions of women have prayed and it has -no heed to them." - -"How can I do it? How can I do it?" Stowell was asking himself. - -"Oh, what a thing it is to be a sailor's wife!" said Fenella. "Only -think of her with her little brood, in her cottage at Peel, perhaps, -when a sudden storm comes on! Giving the children their supper and -washing them and undressing them, and hearing them say their prayers -and hushing them to sleep, and then going downstairs to the kitchen, -and listening to the roar of the sea on the castle rocks, and -thinking of her man out here in the darkness, struggling between life -and death." - -Stowell knew, though he dare not look, that she was brushing her -handkerchief over her eyes. - -"Victor," she said, "don't you think women are rather brave -creatures?" - -"The bravest creatures in the world!" he answered. - -"I knew you would say that," said Fenella, in a low voice. "And -that's why I always think of you as their champion, fighting their -battles for them when they are wronged and helpless." - -Stowell felt as if he were choking. He could not go on with this -hypocrisy any longer. He must tell her now. It would be like -committing suicide, but what must be, must be. - -"Fenella...." - -But just then the loud voice of the Captain cried "Strike!" and at -the next moment Fenella was flying aft, to tug at the net and shake -out the herrings that came up with it. - -What shouts! What screams! What peals of laughter! - -It was midnight before the joy and bustle of the catch were over, and -the net was shot again. The Governor was then smoking his last pipe -in the Captain's cabin, and Stowell, with Fenella on his arm, was -walking to and fro on the deck. - -"Need I tell her at all?" he was thinking. - -He felt as if he were being swept along by an irresistible flood. He -could not doom himself to death. With Fenella by his side he could -think of nobody and nothing but her. Sometimes, when they crossed -the light from the skylight, they turned their faces towards each -other and smiled. - -After a while Stowell found himself bantering Fenella. Catching a -flash of her ring (his mother's ring) on the hand that was on his -arm, he pretended it was gone and asked if it had fallen off while -she was pulling at the net. - -"Gone! The ring you ga-- .... I mean the Deemster gave me! No, here -it is! What a shock! I should have died if I had lost it." - -She was radiant; he was reckless; the little trick had uncovered -their hearts to each other. - -They heard a step on the other side of the deck. - -"Fenella!" - -It was the Governor going down the companion. "Time to turn in, -girl! We are to breakfast at Port St. Mary at nine in the morning, -you know." - -"I'm coming, father." - -"Good-night, Stowell!" - -"Good-night, Sir!" - -But he could not let Fenella go. It was a sin to go to bed at all on -such a heavenly night. At last, at the top of the companion, he -loosed her arm, with a slow asundering, and said, - -"The Governor says we are to breakfast at Port St. Mary--do you think -we shall if this calm continues?" - -She laughed (her laugh seemed to come up from her heart) and said, -"I'm not worrying about that." - -"No?" - -"When a woman has all she wants in the world in one place why should -she wish to go to another?" - -"And have you?" - -"Good-night!" she said, holding out both hands. - -He caught them, and the touch communicated fire. At the next moment -he had lifted her hands to his lips. - -She drew them down, and his hands with them, pressed them to her -breast and then broke away, and was gone in an instant. - -Stowell gasped. "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" - -Nothing else mattered! Let the world rip! - - - -II - -Stowell did not go below that night. For two hours he tramped the -deck, laughing to himself like a lunatic. - -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" - -When the watch had to be changed at two o'clock he sent the man to -his berth and took his place. And when the dawn broke and the lamps -of the fishing fleet blinked out, and the boats showed grey, like -ghosts, on the colourless waste around, and the monotonous chanting -of the crews far and near told him the nets were being hauled in, he -shouted down the fo'c'sle for the men. And when they came on deck he -helped them to haul in their own net and to empty their catch (it was -the Governor's order) into the first "Nickey" that came along. - -The grey sky in the east had reddened to a flame by this time. Then -up from the round rim of the sea rose the everlasting sun, and lo, it -was day! God, what an enchanted world it was! All the glory and -majesty of the sea seemed to be singing hymns to the same tune as -that of his own heart: - -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" - -A light wind sprang up, a cool blowing from the south, just enough to -ripple the surface of the water. Already some of the fishing boats -had swung about and were standing off for home. Stowell helped to -haul the mainsail, and shouted with the men as they pulled at the -ropes and the white canvas rose above them. - -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" - -Within half an hour the wind had freshened to a summer gale and they -were running before a roaring sea. The sails bellied out, the yacht -listed over, the scuppers were half full of water, but Stowell would -not go below. For a long hour more he held on and looked around at -the fishing boats as they flew together in the brilliant sunshine -between the two immensities of sky and sea. - -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" - -Helloa! Here was his own little island with the sun riding over the -mountain-tops! The plunging and rearing of the yacht gave the notion -that the mountains were nodding to him. "Good morning, son." What -nonsense came into a man's head when his heart was glad! - -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" - -Ah, here were the cliffs of the Calf, with their hoary heads in the -flying sky and their feet in the thunder of the sea! And here was -the brown-belted lighthouse of the Chicken Rock, which Fenella and he -had picked up last night! And here was the shoulder of Spanish Head, -and here was the belly of the Chasms, ringing with the cry of ten -thousand sea fowl! - -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" - -Suddenly there came a shock. They were opening the bay of Port St. -Mary, with the little fishing town lying asleep along its sheltered -arm, when he saw across the Poolvaish (the pool of death) the grey -walls of Castle Rushen, and the long reach of Langness. And then -memory flowed back on him like a tidal wave. - -Derby Haven! The old maids' house! The girl burning her candle in -her bedroom to educate herself that she might become worthy to be his -wife! - -"Oh God! Oh God!" - -If Fenella loved him he had stolen her love. He had no right to it, -being married already, virtually married--bound by every tie that -could hold an honourable man. - -He felt like a traitor--a traitor to Fenella now. He recalled what -he had said last night. One step more and---- - -Thank God, he had gone no farther! If he had allowed Fenella to -engage herself to him, and then the facts about Bessie Collister had -become known, as they might have done through Dan Baldromma---- - -He must go. He must go immediately. His miserable mistake must not -bring disgrace on Fenella also. - -The yacht was sliding into the slack water of the bay, and the -row-boats of the fish-buyers, each flying its little flag, were -coming out to meet the fishing boats, when Stowell went down to the -saloon--still dark with its blue silk curtains over skylight and -portholes. - -He took off his fisherman's clothes, put on his own, and sat down at -the table to scribble a note to the Governor: - - - "Excuse me! I must go up to Douglas by the first train. Have - just remembered an important engagement. - - Hope to call at Government Office to-morrow." - - -As he was leaving the saloon he looked back towards the cabin in -which Fenella lay asleep. His eyes were wet, his heart throbbed -painfully, he felt as if he were being banished from her presence as -by a curse. Renunciation--life-long renunciation--that was all that -was left to him now. - -The fleet were in harbour when he went on deck, a hundred boats -huddled together. And when he stepped ashore the fish salesmen were -selling the night's catch by auction, and the bronze-faced and -heavy-bearded fishermen, in their big boots, were counting their -herrings in mixed English and Manx: - -"Nane, jeer, three, kiare, quieg .... warp, tally!" - - - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN - -THE WOMAN'S SECRET - -When Stowell awoke next morning at Ballamoar a flock of sheep, -liberated from a barn, were bleating before a barking dog. He had -passed a restless night. All his soul revolted against the -renunciation he had imposed upon himself. It was like life-long -imprisonment. Yet what was he to do? He must decide and decide -quickly. - -Suddenly he thought of the Governor. The strong sense and practical -wisdom of the Governor might help him to a decision. But Fenella's -father! How could he tell his story to Fenella's father? - -At last an idea came to him whereby he could obtain the Governor's -counsel without betraying his secret. He was at the crisis. On what -he did now the future of his life depended. And not his own life, -only, but Fenella's also, perhaps, and .... Bessie Collister's. - -At three o'clock he was at the Government offices in Douglas. Police -inspectors were at the door and moving about in the corridors. One -of them took him up to the Governor's room--a large chamber -overlooking the street and noisy from the tram-cars that ran under -the windows. The Governor's iron-grey head was bent over a -desk-table. - -"Sit down--I shall not be long." - -Stowell felt his heart sink in advance. Never would he be able to -say what he had come to say. - -"Well, you gave us the slip nicely, didn't you?" said the Governor, -raising his head from his papers. - -"I'm sorry, Sir," said Stowell (he felt his lip trembling). "It was -an important matter, and I've come to town to-day to ask your advice -on it." - -"Something you've been consulted about?" - -"Well .... yes." - -"I'm no authority on law, you know." - -"It's not so much a matter of law, Sir, as of morality--what an -honourable man ought to do under difficult circumstances." - -The Governor looked up sharply. Stowell struggled on. - -"A client .... I should say a friend .... engaged himself to a young -woman awhile ago, and now, owing to circumstances which have arisen -since, he finds it difficult to decide whether it is his duty to -marry her." - -"Manxman?" - -"Yes." - -"What class?" - -Stowell felt his voice as well as his lips trembling. "Oh, good -enough class, I think." - -The Governor picked up his pipe from the table, charged it, lighted -it, turned his chair towards the fireplace, threw his leg over the -rail-fender and said: - -"Fire away." - -Then trembling and ashamed, but making a strong call on his -resolution, Stowell told his own story--as if it had been that of -another man. - -When he had come to an end there was a long silence. The Governor -pulled hard at his pipe and there was no other sound in the room -except the rattle of the tram-cars in the street. - -Stowell felt hot, his lips felt dry, and pushing back his black hair, -he found sweat on his forehead. - -"It was a shocking blunder, of course," he said. "My man doesn't -defend himself. Still he thinks the circumstances...." - -"You mean it wasn't deliberate?" - -"Good Lord, no!" - -"In fact a kind of accident?" - -"One might say so." - -"Any harm done?" - -"Harm?" Stowell turned white and began to stammer. "I .... no, that -is to say .... no, I've never heard...." - -"And yet he promised to marry the girl?" - -"He felt responsible for her. He couldn't be a scoundrel." - -"Did he care for her--love her?" - -"I can't say that, Sir. He might have thought he did." - -"And now he loves another woman?" - -"With all his heart and soul, Sir." - -"But" (the Governor was puffing placidly) "he has promised to marry -the little farm girl, and she's away somewhere educating herself to -become his wife?" - -"That's it, Sir," said Stowell (his head was down), "and now he is -asking himself what it is his duty to do. I have told him it is his -duty as a man of honour to carry out his promise--to marry the girl, -whatever the consequences to himself. Am I right, Sir?" - -There was another moment of silence, and then the Governor, taking -his pipe out of his mouth, and bringing his open palm down on the -table, said: - -"No!" - -"No?" - -"It would be marrying the wrong woman, wouldn't it?" - -"Well .... yes, one might say that, Sir." - -"Then it would be a crime." - -"A crime?" - -"A three-fold crime." - -The Governor rose, crossed the floor, then drew up in front of -Stowell and spoke with sudden energy. - -"First, against the girl herself. She's an attractive young person, -I suppose, eh?" - -Stowell nodded. - -"But uneducated, illiterate, out of another world, as they say?" - -Stowell nodded again. - -"Then does your man suppose that by sending her to school for a few -months he will bridge the gulf between them? Is that how he expects -to make her happy? Ten to one the girl will be a miserable outsider -in her husband's house to the last day of her life. But that's not -the worst, by a long way." - -"No?" - -"If he marries her it will out of a sense of duty will it not?" - -"Ye-es." - -"Well, what woman on God's earth wants to be married out of a sense -of duty? And if he loves another woman do you think his wife will -not find it out some day? Of course she will! And when she does -what do you think will happen? I'll tell you what will happen. If -she's one of the sensitive kind she'll feel herself crushed, -superfluous, and pine away and die of grief and shame, or perhaps -take a dose of something .... we've heard of such happenings, haven't -we? And if she's a woman of the other sort she'll go farther." - -"You mean...." - -"Suspicion, jealousy, envy! She may not care a brass farthing about -her husband, but her pride as a wife will be wounded. She won't give -him a day's peace, or herself either. He'll never be an hour out of -her sight but she'll think he's with the other woman. And -then--what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander! If he has -another woman as likely as not she'll have another man--we've heard -of that, too, haven't we?" - -Stowell dropped his head. His heart was beating high, and he was -afraid his face was betraying it. The Governor touched him on the -shoulder, and continued, - -"In the next place, it would be a crime against the man himself. -He's a young fellow of some prospects, I suppose?" - -"I .... I think so." - -"And the girl has some family, hasn't she?" - -"Yes." - -"They may be good and worthy folk of whom he would have no reason to -be ashamed. But isn't it just as likely that they are people of -quite another kidney? Sisters and brothers and cousins to the tenth -degree? Some vulgar and rapacious old father, perhaps, who hasn't -taken too much trouble to keep the girl out of temptation while she -has been at home, but freezes on to her fast enough after she has -made a good marriage. Possible, isn't it?" - -"Quite possible, sir." - -"Well, what are your man's own friends going to do with him with a -menagerie like that at his heels? No, he has fettered himself for -life to failure as well as misery, and while his wife is railing at -him about the other woman he is reproaching her with standing in his -light. So the end of his noble endeavour is that he has set up a -little private hell for himself in the house he calls his home." - -Stowell was wincing at every word, but all the same he knew that his -eyes were shining. The Governor looked sharply up at him for a -moment, lit his pipe afresh and said, - -"Then there's the other woman. I suppose her case is worthy of some -consideration?" - -"Indeed, yes." - -"If she cares for the man...." - -"I can't say that, Sir." - -"Well, if she does, she too will suffer, will she not? And what has -she done to deserve suffering? Nothing at all! She's the innocent -scapegoat, isn't she?" - -"That's true." - -"Fine woman, I suppose?" - -"The finest woman in the world, Sir." - -"Just so! But your man would doom her to renunciation--a solitary -life of sorrow and regret. And so the only result of his -praiseworthy principles, his sense of duty, as you say, and all the -rest of it, is that he will have ruined three lives--the life of the -woman he marries and does not love, the life of the woman he loves -and does not marry, and his own life also." - -"Then you think, Sir .... you think he should stop even yet?" - -"Even at the church door, at the altar-steps--if there's no harm -done, and he is sure she is the wrong woman." - -Stowell felt as if the vapours which had clouded his brain so long -had been swept away as by a mountain breeze, but he thought it -necessary to keep up the disguise. - -"I feel you must be right, sir," rising to go. "At all events I -cannot argue against you. But I think you'll agree that .... that if -my man can wipe out this bad passage in his life without injury to -anybody and without scandal .... I think you will agree that his -first duty is to tell the woman he loves...." - -"Eh? What the deuce .... Good heavens, no!" - -"But surely he couldn't ask a pure-minded girl...." - -"To take the other woman's leavings? Certainly he couldn't if she -knew anything about it. But why should she? Why should a -pure-minded girl, as you say, be told about something that happened -before she came on to the scene?" - -Stowell's scruples were overcome. He had argued against himself, but -he knew well that he had wished to be beaten. He was going off when -the Governor, following him to the door, laid a hand on his shoulder -and said, - -"When a man has done wrong the thing he has got to do next is to say -nothing about it. That's what your man has got to do now. It's the -woman secret, isn't it? Very well, he must never reveal it to -anybody--never, under any circumstances--never in this world!" - - - -II - -Next day, at Ballamoar, after many fruitless efforts to begin, -Stowell was writing to Bessie Collister. - - - "DEAR BESSIE,--I am sorry to send you this letter and it is very - painful for me to write it. But I cannot allow you to look - forward any longer to something which can never happen. - - "The truth is--I must tell you the truth, Bessie--since you went - to Derby Haven I have found that I do not love you as I ought, to - become your husband. That being so, I cannot do you the great - wrong of marrying you. It would not be either for your good or - for mine. And since I cannot marry you I feel that we must part. - I am miserable when I say this, but I see that in justice to you, - as well as to myself, nothing else can be...." - - -He could go no further. A wave of tenderness towards Bessie came -over him. He had visions of the girl receiving and reading his -letter. It would be at night in her little bedroom, perhaps--the -room in which she burnt her candle to learn her lessons. - -No, it would be too cruel, too cowardly. He would not write--he -would go to Derby Haven and break the news to the girl himself. - -But that evoked other and more fearful visions. They would be -walking along the sandy path at Langness with the stark white -lighthouse at the end of it. "Bessie," he would be saying, "We must -part; it will be better for both of us. It has all been my fault. -You have nothing to reproach yourself with. But you must try to -forget me, and if there is anything else I can do...." And then the -reproaches, the recriminations, the tears, the supplications, the -appeals: "Don't throw me over! You promised to stand up for me, you -know. I will be good." - -It would be terrible. It would make his heart bleed. Nevertheless -he must bear it. It was a part of his punishment. - -He had torn up his letter and was putting his hand on the bell to -order the dog-cart to be brought round to take him to the railway -station, when a servant came into the room and said, - -"Mr. Alick Gell to see you, sir." - -Gell came in with a gloomy and half-shamefaced look. His tall figure -was bent, his fair hair was disordered, and his voice trembled as he -said, - -"Can't we take a walk in the wood, old fellow? I have something to -say." - -"I don't know how to tell you," he began. They were crossing the -lawn towards the plantation. "Its about Bessie." - -"Bessie?" - -"I .... I'm madly in love with her." - -Stowell stopped and looked without speaking into Gell's twitching -face. - -"I knew you wouldn't be able to believe it, but don't look at me like -that." - -"Tell me," said Stowell. - -And then, stammering and trembling, Gell told his story. He didn't -know how it began. Perhaps it was pity. He had been sorry for the -girl, over there in that lonely place, so he went down at first just -to cheer her up. Then he had found himself going frequently, buying -her presents and taking her out for walks. When he had realised how -things were he had tried to pull up, but it was too late. He had -struggled to be loyal--to strengthen himself by talking of -Stowell--praising him to the girl, excusing him for not coming to see -her--but it was useless. His pity had developed into love, and -before he had known what he was doing Bessie was in his arms. At the -next instant he had felt like a traitor. He was frantically happy -and yet he wanted to kill himself. - -"It was terrible," he said. "I couldn't sleep at night for thinking -of it. Bessie wanted you to be told. In fact she wrote you a -letter, saying we couldn't help loving each other, and asking you to -release her. But I couldn't let her go that far. 'Then go to -Ballamoar and tell him yourself,' she said. And at last I've come. -And now .... now you know." - -Stowell listened in silence. His first feeling was one of wounded -pride. He had really been a great fool about the girl! What -fathomless depths of conceit had led him to think she would break her -heart if he gave her up? And then the long struggle between his love -and his duty--what a mountebank Fate seemed to have made of him! But -his next feeling was one of relief--boundless, inexpressible relief. -The iron chain he had been dragging after him had been broken. He -was free! - -Gell, who was breathing hard, was watching Stowell from under his -cap, which was pulled down over his forehead. They were walking in a -path that was thick with fallen leaves, and there was no sound for -some moments but that of the rustling under their feet. - -"Why don't you speak, old fellow? I've behaved like a cad, I know. -But for God's sake, don't torture me. Strike me in the face with -your fist. I would rather that--upon my soul, I would." - -"Alick," said Stowell, putting his arm through Gell's. "I'm going to -tell you something." - -"What?" - -"Do you know what I was on the point of doing when you came? Going -down to Derby Haven to ask Bessie to let me off." - -"Is that true? You're not saying it merely to .... But why?" - -"Because what's happened to her has happened to me also--I love -somebody else." - -"No? Really? .... But who .... who is the other girl? .... Is it -.... It's Fenella, isn't it?" - -"Yes." - -"How splendid! I'm glad! And of course I congratulate you .... No? -.... You've not asked her yet? But that will be all right--of course -it will!" - -Taking off his cap to fan himself with, Gell broke into fits of half -hysterical laughter. Then he said: - -"You don't mind my saying something now that it's all over? No? -Well, to tell you the truth I could never believe you really cared -for Bessie. I thought you were only marrying her as a sort of duty, -having got her into trouble with Dan Baldromma. And it was -so--partly so--wasn't it? That didn't excuse me, though, did it? -Lord, what a relief! I feel as if you had lifted ten tons off my -head." - -A dark memory came to Stowell. "Has she told him?" - -"Bessie will be relieved, too, and just as glad as I am. Do you -know, there's a heart of gold in that girl. She's never had a dog's -chance yet. Not much education, I admit, but such spirit, such -character! Such a woman too--you said so yourself, remember." - -A still darker memory of something the Governor had said came to -Stowell. "Didn't you say Bessie had written to me?" he asked. - -"Yes, she did, yesterday; but I destroyed her letter." - -"Do you know, I wrote to Bessie to-day, and I destroyed my letter -also." - -"No? What fun if your letters had crossed in the post," said Gell, -and tossing his cap into the air, he broke into still louder peals of -laughter. - -Again Stowell felt immense relief. It was impossible that Bessie -could have told him. And if she hadn't, why should he? Why injure -the girl in Gell's eyes? Why tarnish his faith in her? It was the -woman's secret, therefore he must never reveal it--never in this -world. - -They were walking on. Gell with a high step was kicking up the -withered leaves. - -"What about your people?" asked Stowell. - -"Ah, that's what I've got to find out. I'm going home now to tell -them. My mother is always advising me to marry and settle down, but -of course she'll jib at Bessie, and the sisters will follow suit. As -for my father, he has only one son, as he says, and I must have a -better allowance. He cut it down after that affair in the Courts, -you know." - -They were at the gate to the road, and pulling it open, Gell said: - -"Phew! How different I feel from what I did when I was coming in -here half an hour ago! I thought you would kick me out the minute I -had told you. But now we're going to be better friends than ever, -aren't we?" - -"Good-bye and good luck, old fellow," said Stowell. - -"Good-bye, and God bless you, old chap," said Gell. - -Stowell stood at the gate and watched him going off with long -strides, his shoulders working vigorously. - -"Never again! We can never be the same friends again," thought -Stowell, as he turned back to the house. - -He was feeling like a man who in a moment of passion has secretly -wronged his life-long friend and can never look straight into his -eyes again. - -But the sense of a barrier between Gell and himself was soon wiped -out by the memory of Fenella. He was free to love her at last! No -more hypocrisy! No more self-denial! No more struggles between -passion and duty! The past was dead. Life from that day forward was -beginning again for all of them. - -"Was that Alick Gell in the wood with you?" asked Janet, who had come -to the door to call Stowell in to tea. - -"Yes." - -"Goodness me! He must be a happy boy. He was laughing enough, -anyway." - - - -III - -Stowell went to bed early that night, slept soundly and was up with -the coming of light in the morning. - -The farm lads were not yet astir, but going round to the stable he -saddled a horse for himself (a young chestnut mare that had been born -on one of his own birthdays) and set off for a ride to relieve the -intoxication of his spirits. - -The air was keen, but both he and his horse sniffed it with delight. -As they passed out of Ballamoar the sun rose and played among the red -and yellow leaves of the plantation, for the summer was going out in -a blaze of glory. They crossed the Curragh, dipped into the glen, -and climbed the corkscrew path to the mountain. - -Stowell thought he had never felt so well. And the little mare, -catching the contagion of his high spirits, snorted and swung her -head at every stride and dug her feet into the ringing ground. - -"Helloa, Molly, here we are at the top!" - -Looking hack he saw the flat plain below, dotted over with farms, -each with its little farmhouse surrounded by its clump of sheltering -trees. God, how good to think that every one of them was a home of -love! Love! That was the great uniter, the great comforter, the -great liberator, the great redeemer! - -And to think that all this had been going on since the beginning of -the world! That generation after generation some boy had come up -this lovely glen to court his girl! Lord, what a glorious place the -world was, after all! - -His eyes were beaming like the sunshine, and to make his joy complete -he galloped over the mountain-tops until he came to a point at which -he could look down on Douglas and catch a glimpse of Fenella's home -in the midst of its trees. - - "_Peace in her chamber, wheresoe'er it be, - A holy place...._" - - -Then back to Ballamoar at a brisk canter, with the air musical with -the calls of cattle, the bleating of sheep and the songs of birds. -And then breakfast for a hungry man--cowrie and eggs and fresh butter -and honey and junket, which the Manx called pinjean. - -At three o'clock in the afternoon he was on his way to Government -House, and by that time the intoxication of his high spirits had -suffered a check. - -What had Fenella thought of his flight from the yacht? Had she -believed his excuse for it? What interpretation had she put upon his -intention of calling at Government Offices the following day? And -the Governor--had he seen through the thin disguise of that story? - -But the cruellest question of all, and the hardest to answer, was -whether after all, even now that he was free, he had any right to ask -Fenella to become his wife? He, a sin-soiled man, and she a -stainless woman! - -He felt as if he ought to purge his soul by telling Fenella -everything. Yet how could he do that without inflicting an incurable -wound on her faith in him? And then what had the Governor said? -"Never under any circumstances." - -As he walked up the carriage drive to Government House he saw the -Governor's tall figure, and the Attorney-General's short one, through -the windows of the smoking-room. The Governor came to the door to -meet him. - -"The very man we were talking about. Come in! Sit down. We have -something to propose to you." - -The Governor was going up to London on urgent business at the Home -Office and the Attorney had to go with him. In these circumstances -it had been necessary to arrange that the Court of General Gaol -Delivery (interrupted by the Deemster's death, but now summoned to -resume) should sit without the Governor, and the Attorney had been -suggesting that Stowell should represent him in an important case. - -"What is it, Sir?" asked Stowell. - -"Murder again, my boy; but of a different kind this time." - -A Peel fisherman had killed his wife with shocking brutality, yet -everybody seemed to sympathise with him, and there was a danger that -a Manx jury might let him off. - -"Splendid opportunity to uphold law and order! You'll take the case?" - -"With pleasure!" - -"Good! The Attorney will send you the papers. And now, I suppose, -you would like to see Fenella?" - -"May I?" - -"Why not? You'll find her in the drawing-room." - -On his way to the drawing-room Stowell met Miss Green coming out of -it. She smiled at him, and said, in a half-whisper, - -"I think you are expected." - -When he opened the door he saw Fenella sitting with her back to him -at a little desk on one side of the bay window, with a glint of its -light on her bronze-brown hair. - -"Who is it?" she said as he entered. But at the next moment she -seemed to know, and, rising, she turned round to him and smiled. - -He thought she had never looked so beautiful. He wanted to crush her -in his arms, and at the same time to fall at her feet and kiss the -hem of her dress. - -There was a moment of passionate silence. He stepped towards her but -stopped when two or three paces away. A riot of conflicting emotions -were going on within him. He felt strong, he felt weak, he felt -brave, he felt cowardly, he felt proud, he felt ashamed. - -Still nothing was said by either of them. Her eyes were glistening, -she was breathing quickly and her bosom was heaving. He saw her -moving towards him. Her hand was trailing along the desk. He felt -as if she were drawing him to her, and by a nervous, but irresistible -impulse he held out his arms. - -"Fenella," he said, hardly audibly. - -At the next moment, as in a flash of light, she sprang upon his -breast, and at the next her arms were about his neck, his own were -around her waist, her mouth was to his mouth, and the world had -melted away. - -Ten minutes later, with faces aflame, they went, hand in hand, into -the smoking-room. The Governor wheeled about on his revolving chair -to look at them. - -"Well," he said, "it's easy to see what you two have come about. But -not for six months! I won't agree to a day less, remember." - - - - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN - -AT THE SPEAKER'S - -Before Alick Gell reached his father's house another had been there -on the same errand. - -Earlier in the afternoon Dan Baldromma, while running his hands -through the ground flour in the mill, with the wheel throbbing and -the stones groaning about him, had been struck by a new idea. - -"Liza," he said, returning to the dwelling house and standing with -his back to the fire and his big hands behind him, "that young -wastrel ought to be freckened into marrying the girl, and I'm -thinking I know the way to do it, too." - -"It's like thou do, Dan," said Mrs. Collister. - -Dan's device was of the simplest. It was that of sending the mother -of Bessie Collister to the mother of Alick Gell to threaten and -intimidate her. - -"But sakes alive, man, that's an ugly job, isn't it?" - -"It's got to be done, woman, or there'll be worse to do next, I tell -thee. Thou don't want to see thy daughter where her mother was -before her." - -"Well, well, if I must, I must," said Mrs. Collister. "But, aw dear, -aw dear! If thou hadn't thrown the girl into the way of temptation -by shutting the door on her...." - -"Hould thy whist, woman, and do as I tell thee, and that will be the -best night's work I ever done for her." - -Half an hour later, having swept the earthen floor, hung the kettle -on its sooty chain, and laid the table for Dan's tea, Mrs. Collister -toiled upstairs to dress for her journey, and came down in the poke -bonnet and satin mantle which she wore to chapel on Sunday. - -Meantime Dan had harnessed the old mare to the stiff cart and brought -it round to the door. Having helped his wife over the wheel and put -the rope reins in her hands, he gave her his parting instructions. - -"See thou stand up for thy rights, now! This is thy chance and -thou's got to make the best of it!" - -"Aw well, we'll see," said the old woman, and then the stiff cart -rattled over the cobbled "street" on its way to the Speaker's. - -In her comfortable sitting-room, thickly carpeted and plentifully -cushioned, Mrs. Gell was awakened from her afternoon nap by the -scream of the peacocks. - -"It's Mistress Daniel Collister of Baldromma to see you, ma'am," said -the maid. - -At the next moment, Mrs. Collister, with a timid air, hobbled into -the room on her stick, and the two mothers came face to face. - -"You wish to speak to me," said Mrs. Gell. - -"If you plaze, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister, huskily. - -Isabella Gell, a sour-faced young woman, came into the room and stood -behind her mother's chair. Mrs. Collister took the seat that was -assigned to her, and fumbled the ribbons of her bonnet to loosen them. - -"It's about my daughter, ma'am." - -"Well?" - -"My daughter and your son, ma'am." - -"Eh?" - -"Cæsar Qualtrough of the Kays has seen them together. They're living -down Castletown way, they're saying." - -"Living .... my son and your daughter?" - -"So they're saying, ma'am." - -"I don't believe it! I don't believe a word of it!" - -"I wish in my heart I could say the same, ma'am. But it's truth -enough, I'm fearing." - -"And if it is--I don't say it is, but if it is--why have you come to -me?" - -Then trembling all over, Mrs. Collister continued her story. Her -poor girl was in trouble. When a girl was in trouble the world could -be cruel hard on her. Nobody would think the cruel hard it could be. -If a girl did wrong it was because somebody she was fond of had -promised to marry her. What else would she do it for? When a young -man had behaved like that to a poor girl he ought to keep his word to -her. And if he had a mother, and she was a good Christian woman.... - -Mrs. Gell, who was beating her foot on the carpet, broke in -impatiently. - -"In short, you think my son ought to marry your daughter?" - -"It's nothing but right, ma'am." - -"And you've come here to ask me to tell him to do so?" - -"If you plaze, ma'am." - -"Well, I never!" said Isabella. - -"She's a mother herself, I was thinking, and if one of her own girls -was in the same position...." - -"The idea!" said Isabella. - -"Mrs. Collister," said Mrs. Gell, with a proud lift of her head, "I -was sorry when I heard of the trouble your daughter had brought on -you, but what you are doing now is a piece of great assurance." - -"But Bessie is a good girl, ma'am. And if she married your son you -would never have raison to be ashamed of her." - -"Good indeed! If a girl isn't ashamed to be living with a young man -the less said about her goodness the better." - -"Aw well, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister (her faltering tongue had -become firmer and her timid eyes had begun to flash), "if she's -living with the young man, he's living with her, and the shame is the -same for both, I'm thinking." - -Mrs. Gell drew herself up in her chair. - -"I'm astonished at you, Mrs. Collister! A woman yourself, and not -seeing the difference." - -"Aw yes, difference enough, ma'am! And when a young man doesn't keep -his word it's the woman that's knowing it best by the trouble that's -coming on her." - -Mrs. Gell, whose anger was rising, lifted her chin again and said, -"If your daughter is in trouble, Mrs. Collister, how are we to know -that she had not brought it on her own head, just to get Alick to -marry her?" - -"The creature!" said Isabella. - -"And how are we to know that you and your husband have not encouraged -the girl in her wickedness just to get our son for your son-in-law?" - -"Aw well, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister (she was fumbling at the -strings of her bonnet to tighten them), "if you are thinking as bad -of me as that...." - -"You talk of the danger to your daughter if my son doesn't marry -her," said Mrs. Gell. "But what of the danger to my son if he does? -His life will be ruined. He will never be able to raise his head in -the island again. His father will disown him. Marry your daughter -indeed! Not only will I not ask him to marry her, but if I see the -slightest danger of his doing anything so foolish I will do -everything I can to prevent it." - -"Aw well, we'll say no more, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister, and she -shuffled to her feet. - -But Mrs. Gell was up before her. - -"Alexander Gell, son of the Speaker and grandson of Archdeacon -Mylechreest, married to the step-daughter of Dan Baldromma and the -nameless offspring of Liza Collister.... - -"Ma'am!" - -Mrs. Collister had hobbled to the door, and was going out, humbled -and beaten, when Mrs. Gell's last words cut her to the quick. For -more than twenty years she had taken the punishment of her own sin -and bowed her head to the lash of it, but at this insult to her child -the weak and timid creature turned about, as brave as a lion and as -fierce as a fury. - -"I'm not your quality, I know that, ma'am," she said, breathing -quickly, "but a day is coming, and maybe it's near, when we'll be -standing together where we'll both be equal. Just two old mothers, -and nothing else between us. If you've loved your son, I've loved my -daughter, whatever she is, ma'am. And when the One who reads all -hearts is after asking me what I did for my child in the day of her -trouble, I'll be telling Him I came here to beg you on my knees to -save her from a life of sin and shame, and you wouldn't, because your -worldly pride prevented. And then it's Himself, ma'am, will be -judging between us!" - - - -II - -There had been a sitting of the Keys that day, and when the Speaker -returned home he found his wife on the sofa with a damp handkerchief -over her forehead and a bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. She -told him what had happened. - -"Well, well," he said, "so that's what it means. But there's no -knowing what hedge the hare will jump from." - -His figure was less burly than before, his head was more bald and his -full beard was whiter, but his eyes flashed with the same -ungovernable fire. - -"That girl must be a thoroughly bad one," said Mrs. Gell. "It's not -the first time she has got our Alick into trouble, remember. We must -save our son from the designing young huzzy." - -"Tut! It's not the girl I'm troubling about." - -"Who else, then?" - -"The man! I might have expected as much, though!" - -Coming home in the train he had had some talk with Kerruish, his -advocate and agent. Dan Baldromma, who was back with his rent, was -refusing to pay, and saying "Let the Spaker fetch me to Coort, and -I'll tell him the raison." - -"Then can't you settle with the man, Archie?" - -"Settle with Dan? I'll settle with Alick first, Bella, and if he has -given that scoundrel the whip hand of me I'll break every bone in his -body." - -"But it may not be true. It cannot be true. Unless Alick tells me -so himself I'll never believe a word of it." - -They were at tea in the dining-room, country fashion, the Speaker at -the head of the table with a plate of fish before him, and his wife -and daughters at either side, when Alick entered. - -"Helloa!" he cried, with a forced gaiety. But only his mother -responded to his greeting and made room for him by her side. She saw -that he was paler and thinner, and that his hand trembled when he -took his cup. - -The Speaker, who had turned his rough shoulder to his son, tried to -restrain himself from breaking out on him until the meal would be -over and he could take him into his own room, but before long his -impatience overcame him. - -"What's this we're hearing about you--that you are carrying on with a -girl?" - -"Do you mean Bessie Collister, Sir?" said Alick. - -"Certainly I mean Bessie Collister. And I thought you gave me your -word that you would see no more of her." - -"But that was the promise of a boy, Sir. Did you expect it to bind -the man also?" - -"The man? The man!" said the Speaker, mimicking his son's voice in a -mincing treble. "Do you call yourself a man, bringing disgrace on -your name and family." - -"What disgrace, Sir?" - -"What disgrace? All the island seems to have heard of it. Is it -necessary to tell you? Living secret, so they say, with a woman who -isn't fit company for your mother and sisters." - -"If anybody told you that, Sir," said Alick (his lower lip was -trembling), "he told you a lie--a damned lie, Sir!" - -"There!" cried Mrs. Gell, turning to her husband. "What did I say? -It isn't true, you see." - -"Of course it isn't true, mother; and the best proof that I'm not -behaving dishonourably to Bessie Collister is that I intend to marry -her." - -It was a sickening moment for Mrs. Gell, and the Speaker, for an -instant, was dumbfounded. - -"Eh? What? You intend to marry...." - -"Yes, Sir; and that's why I'm here to-day--to bring you the news, and -to ask you to restore the allowance you cut down in the spring, you -know." - -"That .... that .... that bast--...." - -"Archie!" cried Mrs. Gell, indicating their daughters. - -"Bessie is a good girl, father," said Alick. "What happened before -she was born wasn't her fault, Sir." - -"So you've come to bring us the news and to ask me to double your -allowance? - -"If you please, Sir. You couldn't wish your son and his wife...." - -"His wife! There you are, Bella! That's what I've been working day -and night thirty years for--to see my son throw half my earnings--all -that I can't will away from him--into the hands of a man like Dan -Baldromma!" - -"But Alick will be reasonable," said Mrs. Gell. "He'll give the girl -up." - -"He'll have to do that, and quick too, or I'll cut off his allowance -altogether." - -"Do you mean it, Sir?" said Alick--he was pushing his chair back. - -"Do I mean it? Certainly I mean it. You'll give the girl up or -never another penny of mine shall you see as long as I live!" - -"All right," said Alick, rising from the table, "I'll earn my own -living." - -The Speaker broke into a peal of scornful laughter. "You earn your -living! That's rich!" - -"Give her up?" cried Alick. "I'll break stones on the highway or -porter on the pier before I'll give up her little finger!" - -"You fool! You confounded fool! But no fear! She'll give you up -when she finds you've lost your income." - -"Will she? I'll trust her for that, Sir." - -"Then get away back to her--you'll not be the first by a long way." - -Alick, who had been trying to laugh, stopped his laughter suddenly, -and said, "What do you mean by that, Sir?" - -"Mean? Do you want me to tell you what I mean?" - -"Archie," cried Mrs. Gell, and again she indicated their daughters. - -"Get out of this, will you?" cried the Speaker to the girls, who had -been sitting with their noses in their teacups. - -The girls fled from the room, but stood outside to listen. - -"Father," said Alick, "you must tell me what you mean." - -"Mean! Mean! Don't stand there cross-examining your own father. -You know what I mean! If half they say about the young b-- .... is -true she's fit enough for it, anyway." - -"If any other man had said that," said Alick, quivering, "I should -have knocked him down, Sir." - -"What's that? You threaten me?" cried the Speaker. His voice was -like the scream of a sea-gull, and making a step towards Alick he -lifted his clenched fist to him. - -Mrs. Gell intervened, and Alick retreated a pace or two. - -"Take care, Sir," he said. "You can't treat me like that now. I'm -not a child any longer." - -"Then get away to your woman .... and to hell, if you want to." - -"There was no need to tell me twice, Sir. I'm going. And as God is -my witness, I'll never set foot in this house again." - -At the next moment the peacocks were screaming outside, and the -Speaker, who had thrown up the window, was shouting through it in a -broken roar, - -"Alick! Alick Gell! Come back, you damned scoundrel! Alick! -Alexander...." - -They had to carry him upstairs and send for Dr. Clucas. It had been -another of his paralysing brain-storms. It was not to be expected -that he could bear many more of them. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - -THE BURNING BOAT - -Two days later, Gell was stepping into the train for Castletown on -his way to Derby Haven. - -"Give me up because my income is gone? Not Bessie! Not Bessie -Collister!" - -But Bessie had gone through deep waters since he had seen her last. - -From the first Victor Stowell had disappointed her. To live in the -dark--hidden away, unrecognised, suppressed--it had not been -according to her expectations. Her pride, too, had been wounded by -being sent back to school. It was true that without being asked, Mr. -Stowell had promised to marry her at some future time, but perhaps -that was only because he was the son of the Deemster and therefore -afraid of her step-father and of the cry there would be all over the -island if anything became known. - -If it had only been Alick! Alick would not have been ashamed of her. -He would have taken her just as she was and never seen any -shortcomings. - -After the first days at Derby Haven she had found herself looking -forward to Alick's visits. When she knew he was coming everything -brightened up in her eyes and even her tiresome lessons became -delightful. Before long she felt her heart leap up whenever the -Misses Brown called, "Bessie, a gentleman to see you!" - -It is easy to kindle a fire on a warm hearth. Alick had been -Bessie's first sweetheart, perhaps her only one. Suddenly a -wonderful thing happened to her. She found herself in love. She had -thought she had always been in love with somebody, but now she -realized that she had never been in love before. She was in love -with Alick Gell. And she wished to become his wife. - -That altered everything. She began to see how ignorant she was -compared with Alick and how much she was beneath him. She remembered -his three tall sisters who held their heads so high at anniversaries -and bazaars, and thought what a shocking thing it would be if they -were able to look down on her. How she worked to be worthy of him! - -She had no qualms about Stowell. Her only anxiety was about Alick. -She was certain that he loved her, yet what a fight she had for him! -He was always talking about Stowell, and praising him up to her. -When he excused his friend for not coming to see her she was quite -sure it was all nonsense. And when he gave her presents and said -they were from Stowell she knew where they came from. - -One day he brought a wrist-watch with the usual message, and after he -had put it on (how his hands were trembling!) she tried to thank him, -but didn't know how to do so. - -At last an idea occurred to her. They were walking on the Langness, -just by the ruin of a windmill, whose walls and roof had been carried -away by a gale. - -"Alick," she said, "I wonder if my new watch is right by the clock at -Castle Rushen?" - -Alick put his hands to his eyes like blinkers (for the sun was -setting) and looked across the bay. While he did so, Bessie slipped -off on tiptoe and hid behind the walls of the windmill. As soon as -she was missed there was a laugh and a shout and then a chase. -Bessie dodged and Alick doubled, Bessie dodged again, but at length -she slipped into a hole, and at the next moment Alick caught her up -and kissed her. - -"Now, what have you done?" she said, and her face was suffused with -blushes. - -After that there could be no disguise between them. Bessie felt no -shame, and it never occurred to her that she had been guilty of -treason. But Gell talked about disloyalty and said he would never be -at ease until she had made a clean breast of it to Stowell. - -"Then go and tell him we couldn't help loving each other," she said. - -When he was gone she was very happy. Mr. Stowell would give her up. -Of course he would. What had happened between them was dead and -buried. Whatever else he was Victor Stowell was a gentleman. He -would say nothing to Alick. - -Then came a shock. On the following morning she felt unwell. She -had often felt unwell since she came to Derby Haven, and the Misses -Brown, simple old maids, seeing no cause except the change in the -girl's way of life, wanted to send for a doctor. But doctors were -associated in Bessie's mind with death. If you saw a doctor going -into a farmhouse one day you saw a coffin going in the next. - -Chemists were not open to the same objection. Often on market days, -after she had sold out her basket of butter and eggs, she had called -at the chemist's at Ramsey for medicine for her mother. So, saying -nothing to her housemates, she slipped round to the chemist's at -Castletown and asked for a bottle of mixture. - -The chemist, an elderly man with a fatherly face, smiled at her, and -said: - -"But what is it for, miss?" - -Bessie described her symptoms, and then the smiling face was grave. - -"Are you a married woman, ma'am?" asked the chemist. - -Bessie caught her breath, stared at the man for a moment with eyes -full of fear, and then turned and fled out of the shop. - -All that day she felt dizzy and deaf. The earth seemed to be -slipping from under her. Memories of what she had heard from older -women came springing to the surface of her mind, and she asked -herself why she had not thought of this before. For a long time she -struggled to persuade herself that the chemist was wrong, but -conviction forced itself upon her at last. - -Then she asked herself what she was to do, and remembering what she -had learned as a child at home of her mother's miserable life before -her marriage, she found only one answer to that question. She must -ask Mr. Stowell to marry her. The thought of parting from Alick was -heart-breaking. But the most terrible thing was that she found -herself hoping that Stowell would refuse to release her. - -It had been a wretched day, dark and cheerless, with driving mist and -drizzling rain. Towards nightfall the old maids lighted a fire for -her in the sitting-room, which was full of quaint nicknacks and old -glass and china. The tide, which was at the bottom of the ebb, was -sobbing against the unseen breakwater, and the gulls on the cobbles -of the shore were calling continually. - -Bessie was crouching over the fire with her chin in her hand when she -heard the sneck of the garden gate, a quick step on the gravel, a -light knock at the front door, a familiar voice in the lobby, and -then old Miss Ethel saying behind her: - -"A gentleman to see you, Bessie." - -Her heart did not leap up as before, and she did not rise with her -former alacrity, but Alick Gell came into the room like a rush of -wind. - -"What's this--unwell?" he cried. - -"It's nothing! I shall be better in the morning," she said. - -"Of course you will." - -And then, after a kiss, Gell sat on a low stool at Bessie's feet, -stretched his long legs towards the fire, and began to pour out his -story. - -He had seen Stowell and the matter had turned out just as she had -expected. Splendid fellow! Best chap in the world, bar none! - -"But what do you think, Bess? The most extraordinary coincidence! -Dear old Vic, he has been busy falling in love, too! Fact! Fenella -Stanley, daughter of the Governor! Magnificent girl, and Vic is -madly in love with her! So there's to be no heart-breaking on either -side, and that's the best of it. Makes one think there must be -something in Providence, doesn't it?" - -He was laughing so loud that the china in the room rang, but Bessie -was turning cold with terror. - -"And .... what about your father?" she faltered. - -"My father?" - -"Well .... to tell you the truth there was a bit of a breeze there," -he said, and then followed the story of the scene at the Speaker's. - -"But no matter! I'm not without money, so we can be married at once, -and the sooner the better." - -"But Alick," she said (he was stroking her hand and she was trying to -draw it away), "do you think it's best?" - -"Best? Why, of course I think it's best. Don't you?" - -She did not reply. - -"Don't you?" he said again, and then, getting no answer, he became -aware that she, who had been so eager for their marriage before he -went to Ballamoar, was now holding back. - -"Bessie," he said, "has anything happened while I've been away?" - -"No! Oh no!" - -"You're .... you're not thinking of the loss of the income, are you?" - -"No, no; 'deed!, no!" - -"I knew you wouldn't. When my father taunted me with that, saying -you would give me up as soon as you knew my allowance was gone, I -said, 'Not Bessie! I'll trust her for that, Sir.'" - -Bessie began to cry. Alick was bewildered. - -"What is it, then? Tell me! Are you .... are you thinking of -Stowell?" - -At that name she was seized by the mad impulse which comes to people -on dizzy heights when they wish to throw themselves over--she wanted -to blurt out the truth, to confess everything. But before she could -speak Alick was saying, - -"I shouldn't blame you if you were. I'm not his equal--I know that, -Bessie. But even if he were free I shouldn't give you up to him now. -No, by God, not to him or to anyone." - -His voice was breaking. She looked at him. There were tears in his -eyes. She could bear up no longer. With the cry of a drowning soul -she flung her arms about him and sobbed on his breast. - -An hour later, having comforted and quietened her, Gell was going off -with swinging strides through the mist to catch the last train back -to Douglas. - -"She was thinking of me--that was it," he was telling himself. -"Thought I would come to regret the sacrifice and wanted to save me -from being cut off by my family. So unselfish! Never thinking of -herself, bless her!" - -And Bessie, in her bedroom was saying to herself, "He's that fond of -me that he'll forgive me, whatever happens." - -She lay a long time awake, with her arms under her head, looking up -at the ceiling. - -"Yes, Alick will forgive me, whatever happens," she thought. - -And then she blew out her candle, buried her head in her pillow, and -fell asleep. - - - -II - -When Gell reached the railway-station he found the carriages waiting -at the platform, half-full of impatient passengers. A trial, which -was going on in the Castle, was nearing its close, and the -station-master had received orders that the last train to town was to -be kept back for the Judges and advocates. - -"The Peel fisherman," thought Gell. And, remembering that this was -the case in which Stowell was to represent the Attorney-General, he -walked over to the Court-house, whose lantern-light was showing like -a hazy white cloud above the Castle walls. - -The little place was thick with sea mist, hot with the acid odour of -perspiration, and densely crowded but breathlessly silent. The trial -was over, the prisoner had been found guilty, and the Deemster (it -was Deemster Taubman, sitting with the Clerk of the Rolls as Acting -Governor) was beginning to pronounce sentence: - -"Prisoner at the bar, it will be my duty to communicate to the proper -quarter the Jury's recommendation to mercy, but I can hold out no -hope that it will be of any avail. You have been found guilty of the -wilful murder of your wife, therefore I bid you prepare...." - -And then followed those dread words in that dead stillness, which -bring thoughts of the day of doom. - -Gell caught one glimpse of the prisoner, as he stood in the dock, in -his fisherman's guernsey, looking steadfastly into the face of his -Judge, and another glimpse as a way was cleared through the -spectators and he walked with a strong step to the door leading to -the cells. - -Then the court-house cleared to a low rumble that was like the -muffled murmuring that is heard after a funeral. - -Gell asked for Stowell, and was told that his friend had gone down to -the Deemster's room with one of the advocates for the defence to draw -up the terms of the recommendation. Therefore he returned to the -station with a group of his fellow advocates, and on the way back he -heard the story of the trial--little knowing how close it was to come -to him. - -The prisoner (his name was Morrison) had married the murdered woman -in the winter. She had been a comely girl who had always borne a -good character. On their wedding morning they had received many -presents, one of them being a fishing-boat. This had been the gift -of a distant relation of the bride's, a middle-aged man who had since -married a rich widow. - -At Easter, Morrison had gone off with the fleet to the mackerel -fishing at Kinsale, and while there he had received an anonymous -letter. It told him that his young wife had given birth, less than -six months after their marriage, to a still-born child. - -Morrison had said nothing about the letter, but he had made inquiries -about the man who had given him the boat, and been told that he had -borne a bad reputation. - -At the end of the mackerel season Morrison had returned to the island -with the rest of the fleet, and for everybody else there had been the -usual joyful homecoming. - -It had been late at night on the first of June, when the stars were -out and the moon was in its first quarter. As soon as the boats had -been sighted outside the Castle Rock the sound signal had gone up -from the Rocket House, and within five minutes the fishermen's wives -had come flying down to the quay, with their little shawls thrown -over their heads and pinned under their chins. - -Then, as the boats had come gliding into harbour, there had been the -shrill questions of the women ashore and the deep-toned answers of -the man afloat: - -"Are you there, Bill?" "Is it yourself, Nancy?" - -Some of the younger women, who had had babies born while their -husbands had been away, had brought them down with them, and one -young wife, holding up her little one for her man to see, by the -light of the moon and the harbour-master's lantern, had cried: - -"Here he is, boy! What do you think of him?" - -Almost before the boats could be brought to their moorings the -fishermen had leapt ashore in their long boots and gone off home with -their wives, laughing and talking. - -Morrison had not gone. His wife had not been down to meet him. -Somebody had shouted from the quay that she was still keeping her bed -and was waiting at home for him. But he had been in no hurry to go -to her. When everything was quiet he had shouldered his boat to the -top of the harbour, unstepped her mast, and run her ashore on the dry -bank above the bridge. - -Then going back to the quay, which was now deserted, he had broken -the padlock of an open yard for ship's stores, taken possession of a -barrel of pitch, rolled it down to the bank by the bridge, fixed it -under his boat, pulled out its plug, applied a match to it, and then -waited until both barrel and boat were afire and burning fiercely. - -After that he had walked home through the little sleeping town to his -house in the middle of a cobweb of streets at the back of the beach. -Opening the door (it had been left on the latch for him) he had -bolted it on the inside, and then going to the bedroom and finding -his young wife in bed, with a frightened look under a timid smile, he -had charged her with her unchastity, compelled her to confess to it, -and then strangled her to death with his big hands--the marks of his -broad thumbs, black with tar, being on her throat and bosom. - -In the middle of the night the fishermen who lived in the streets -nearest to the harbour, awakened by a red glow in their bedrooms, had -said to their wives: - -"What for are they burning the gorse on Peel hill at this time of the -year?" - -But others, who were neighbours of Morrison's, having heard cries -from his house in the night, had gathered in front of his door in the -morning, and, getting no answer to their knocking, had burst it open -and found the woman lying dead on the bed and the man huddled up on -the floor at the foot of it. And when they had pushed him and roused -him he had lifted his haggard face and said, - -"I've killed my sweetheart." - -Such was the fisherman's story, and when the defence had concluded -their case, asking for an acquittal on the ground of unbearable moral -provocation, and saying that never could there have been better -grounds for the application of the unwritten law, the Jury was -obviously impressed, and somebody at the back of the court was saying, - -"If they hang him for that they'll hang a man for anything." - -Against this sympathy for the accused, Stowell had risen to make his -reply for the Crown. - -He did not deny the dead woman's transgression. It was true that she -must have known when she married the prisoner that she was about to -become the mother of a child by another man. But if that moral fact -could be urged against the wife, was there nothing of the same kind -that could be advanced in her favour? - -She had been cruelly betrayed and abandoned. Looking to the future -she had seen the contempt of her little world before her. What had -happened? In the dark hour of her desertion the prisoner had come -with the offer of his love and protection. It was in evidence that -for a time she had held back and that he had pressed himself upon -her. None could know the secret of the dead woman's soul, but was it -unreasonable to think that standing between the two fires of public -scorn and the prisoner's affection she had said to herself, as poor -misguided women in like cases did every day: "He loves me so much -that he will forgive me whatever happens." - -But had he forgiven her? No, he had killed her, wilfully, cruelly, -brutally, not in the heat of blood, but after long deliberation--he, -the big powerful brute and she the weak, helpless, half-naked -woman--the woman who had been faithful to him since the day he -married her, the woman he had sworn to love and cherish until death -parted them. - -No, the plea of moral justification was rotten to the heart's core, -and had nothing to say for itself in a Court of Law. The defence had -urged that it was founded on the laws of nature--that marriage -implied chastity on the woman's part, and this woman had come to her -husband unchaste. On the contrary, it was founded on the barbarous -law of man--the infamous theory that a wife was the property of her -husband and he was at liberty to do as he liked with her. - -A wife was not the property of her husband. He was not at liberty to -do as he liked with her. There was no such thing as the unwritten -law. What was not written was not law. And if, as the result of the -verdict in that court, it should go forth that any man had a right to -kill his wife in any circumstances--to be judge and jury and accuser -and executioner over her--the reign of law and order in this island -would be at an end, no woman's life would be secure, the daughter of -no member of that jury would any longer be safe, and human society -would dissolve into a welter of civilised savagery--the worst -savagery of all. - -The effect of Stowell's reply had been overwhelming. The jury had -either been frightened or convinced, and even the prisoner himself, -during the more intimate passages, had held down his head as if he -felt himself to be the vilest scoundrel on earth. - -Among the advocates (they had reached the station by this time, got -into their carriages, and lit up their pipes) opinion was more -divided. The younger men were enthusiastic, but some of the older -ones thought the closing speech for the Crown had been false in logic -and bad in law. - -One of the latter, with a special cock of the hat, (it was old -Hudgeon, the young men called him "Fanny" now), sat with his shaven -chin on the top of his stick and said: - -"Well, it's a big gospel the young man has got to live up to, with -all his tall talk about women. But we'll see! We'll see!" - -Gell, who was wildly excited by his friend's success, was walking to -and fro on the platform waiting for Stowell's arrival. When he came -(he was the last to come) he had a graver look on his face than Gell -had ever seen there before, except once, and he seemed to be -painfully preoccupied. - -"Ah, is it you?" he had said, when Gell laid hold of him--he had -started as if he had seen a ghost. - -They got into the train together and had a carriage to themselves. -Gell began with his congratulations, but Stowell brushed them aside, -and said: - -"What happened with your father?" - -Gell told his story as he had told it at Derby Haven--that the -Speaker had cut up badly and turned him out of the house. - -"But what do I care? Not a ha'porth! Best thing that ever happened -to me, perhaps." - -"And Bessie?" - -"Oh, Bessie? Well, that's all right now. A bit troubled at first -about my being cut off by the family and losing my income. Just like -a woman! So unselfish!" - -There was silence for some time after that save for the rumble of the -carriage wheels. Then Gell said he was sorry he had told Bessie -about the loss of the income. She would always be thinking he would -regret the sacrifice he had made for her. If he could only find some -way of showing her it didn't matter, because he could always get -plenty of money.... - -"And why can't you?" said Stowell. - -"How?" - -"It's two pounds a week you draw on me for Miss Brown, isn't it?" - -"Yes." - -"Then I'll make it ten on condition that you don't pay me back a -penny until I ask for it." - -"What a good chap...." But Gell could get no farther--his eyes were -full and his throat was hurting him. - -On arriving at Douglas he saw Stowell across the platform to the -northern train, and just as it was about to start, he said: - -"By the way, old man, you don't mind my saying something?" - -"Not a bit! What is it?" - -"You've hanged that poor devil of a Peel fisherman, and I suppose he -deserved it. But I caught a glimpse of him as he was going down to -the cells, and I thought he looked a fine fellow." - -"He _is_ a fine fellow." - -"Do _you_ say that? He made a big mistake in killing the wife, -though, didn't he? If I had been in his place do you know what _I_ -should have done?" - -"What?" - -"_Killed the other man._" - -Stowell drew back in his seat and at the next moment the train -started. - -As it ran into the country a black thought, a vague shadow of -something, was swirling like a bat in the darkness of Stowell's -brain. That was not the first time it had come to him. It had come -to him in Court, while he was speaking, startling him, stifling him, -almost compelling him to sit down. - -"But Bessie's case was different," he thought. "She was not -deserted. She sent Alick to me herself. Therefore it's impossible, -quite impossible." - -Nevertheless, he slept badly that night, and as often as he awoke he -had the sense of a red glow in his bedroom and of being blinded by -the fierce glare from a burning boat. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - -THE GREAT WINTER - -"Come in, my boy. Sit down. Take a cigarette. I have important -news for you." - -The Governor had returned from London and was calling Stowell into -his smoking-room. - -"First, about that recommendation to mercy. It has gone through. -The death sentence has been commuted to ten years' imprisonment." - -"I am glad, Sir--very glad." - -"Next, your speech, deputizing for the Attorney, was reported--part -of it--in the London newspapers and made a good impression." - -"I'm very proud, Sir." - -"I dined with the Home Secretary the following night, and the Lord -Chief Justice, who was among the guests, was warm in his approval. -Acid old fellow with noisy false teeth, but quite enthusiastic about -your defence of law and order. Crime was contagious like disease, -and there was an epidemic of violence in the world now. If society -was to be saved from anarchy then law alone could save it. Some of -their English courts--judges as well as juries--had been criminally -indulgent to crimes of passion. Our little Manx court had shown them -a good example." - -"That is very encouraging, Sir." - -"Very! And now the last thing I have to tell you is that Tynwald -Court this morning voted a sum for a memorial to your father, leaving -the form of it to me. I've decided on a portrait by Mylechreest, -your Manx artist, to be hung in the Court-house at Castle Rushen. -Mylechreest knew the Deemster (saw him at his last Court, in fact) -and thinks he can paint the portrait from memory. But if you have -any photographs let him have them without delay. And now off you go! -Somebody's waiting for you in the drawing-room." - -During the next six months Stowell worked as he had never worked -before. Four hours a day at his office or in the Courts, and -uncounted hours at home. Janet used to say she could never look out -of her bedroom window at night without seeing his light from the -library on the lawn. - -Nevertheless he was at Government House every day, and Fenella and he -had their cheerful hours together. - -Winter came on. It was such a winter as nobody in the island could -remember to have seen before. First wind that lashed the sea into -loud cries about the coast, blew over the Curraghs with a perpetual -wailing, ran up the glen with a roar, and brought the "boys" out of -their beds to hold the roofs on their houses by throwing ropes over -the thatch and fastening them down, with stones. - -Then rain that deluged the low-lying lands, so that women had to go -to market in boats; and then mist that hid the island for a week and -brought more ships ashore than anybody had seen since the days of the -ten black brothers of Jurby who (long suspected of wrecking) were -caught stuffing the box tombs in the churchyard with rolls of Irish -cloth. - -But neither wind, nor rain, nor mist, kept Stowell from Fenella. - -Clad in boots up to his thighs, with an oilskin coat tightly belted -about the waist and a sou'wester strapped down from crown to chin, he -would cross the mountains on his young chestnut mare, with the island -roaring about him like a living thing, and arrive at Fenella's door -with his horse's flanks steaming and his own face ablaze. - -After the wind and the rain came a long frost, which laid its unseen -hand on the rivers and waterfalls, making a deep hush that was like a -great peace after a great war. In the middle of the island (the -valley of Baldwin) there was a tarn into which the mountains drained, -and as soon as this was frozen over Stowell and Fenella skated on it. - -What a delight! The ice humming under their feet like a muffled -drum; the air ringing to their voices like a cup; the sun sparkling -in the hoar frost on the bare boughs of the trees; the blue sky -sailing over the hilltops, capped with white clouds that looked like -soft lamb's wool. - -God, how good it was to be alive! - -Then came a great snow that brought a still deeper silence, broken at -Ballamoar only by the skid of the steel runners of the stiff carts, -whose wheels had been removed, and the smothered calling of the -cattle which had been shut up in the houses. - -But what rapture! Every morning the farmers looked out of their -windows, thick with ice, to see if the snow had gone, but as Stowell -drew his blind and the snow light of the winter's sun came pouring in -upon him, he thought only of another joyous day with Fenella. - -Then up to Injebreck in white sweaters and woollen helmets to fly -down the long slopes on ski, with all the world around them robed and -veiled like a bride. - -There was a broad ridge on the top, a great divide, separating the -north of the island from the south, and as they skimmed across it -from sight of eastern to sight of western sea, it was just as if they -were sailing through the sky with the white round hills for clouds -and the earth lying somewhere far below. - -They were doing this one day when Stowell came upon a place where the -snow was honeycombed with holes. - -"Helloa! There's something here!" he cried. - -Digging into the snow he found a buried sheep, still alive but unable -to stand. So, taking it by its front and back legs he swung it over -his head on to his shoulders and carried it to a shepherd's hut a -mile away, where a turf fire was burning, and dogs, with snow on -their snouts, were barking about a pen of bleating sheep that had -been similarly recovered. - -His delight at this rescue was so boisterous that he went back and -back for hours and brought in other and other sheep. - -Fenella, who followed him with his ski staffs, was in raptures. This -was a new side of Victor Stowell, and she had a woman's joy in it. -He was not only clever, he was strong. He could not only make -speeches (as nobody else in the world could), he could ride and skate -and ski, and (if he liked) he could lift a woman in his arms and -throw her over his shoulder. Something would come of this some -day--she was sure it would. - -They were at the top of the pass, stamping the snow off their ski, -and shaking it out of their gloves, before going down to the -Governor's carriage which (also on runners) was waiting for them at -the inn at the bottom of the hill. The sun was setting and the red -light of it was flushing Fenella's face. She looked sideways at -Stowell with a mischievous light in her eyes and said, - -"Now I know what you are, Sir." - -"Yes?" - -"You are not a lawyer, really." - -"No?" - -"You're an old Viking, born a thousand years after your time." - -"You don't say." - -"Yes," she said, making ready for flight, "one of those sea robbers -you told me of, who came to take possession of the island and capture -its women." - -"Really?" - -"I dare say you're sorry you're not back with your ridiculous old -ancestors, catching a woman for your wife." - -"Not a bit! I've caught one already." - -"Eh? What? If you mean .... Don't be too sure, Sir! You've not -caught me yet!" - -"Haven't I? Look out then--I'm going to catch you now." - -"Catch me!" she cried, and away she flew down the slopes, laughing, -screaming, rocking, reeling, and leaping over the drifts, until at -length she tumbled into a deep one, with head down and ski in air, -and came up half blind, with Stowell's arms about her and his lips -kissing the snow off her chin and nose. - -What a winter! Could there be any sorrow or sin or crime in the -world at all? And what did it want its prisons and courts for? - -But the thaw came at length, and then the noises of the garrulous old -island began again with the rattle of the cart wheels, the rumble of -the rivers running to the sea, and the mooing and bleating of the -liberated cattle and sheep, coming out of their Ark and going back to -the discoloured grass of the fields. - -Stowell and Fenella felt as if they were descending to a world of -reality from a world of dreams. - -"Good-night!" - -They were in the porch at Government House after the last of their -winter expeditions. He was crushing her in his arms again, to the -ruin of her beautiful hair, and whispering of the time that was -coming when there would be no need for such partings. - -"Three months yet, Sir!" - -"Heavens, what an age!" - -And then home to Ballamoar, with his young chestnut under him -sniffing the night air, and over his head a paradise of stars. - - - -II - -"_Come immediately. Important news for you._" - -It was a telegram from the Governor, who had been in London again. -Stowell went up to Douglas by the first train. - -"It's about the Deemstership." - -"Ah!" - -"Old Taubman, as you know, has been complaining of overwork ever -since your father died. The winter had crippled him and he is down -with rheumatism. Fortnightly courts being postponed, cases in -arrears--it was necessary to do something. So I went up to Whitehall -last week and told them a successor would have to be appointed. They -asked me to recommend a name and I recommended yours." - -"Mine, Sir?" - -"Yours! It was all right, too, until I had to tell them your age, -and then--phew! A judge and not yet thirty! I stood to my ground, -said this was the age of youth, quoted the classical examples. -Anyhow, there was my recommendation--take it or leave it." - -"And what was the result, Sir?" - -"The result was that the Lord Chief was consulted, and then our -insignificance saved us. Yes, there was precedent enough for young -judges in colonies and dependencies. And this being a case of a -worthy son succeeding a worthy father .... and so on and so forth." - -"Well?" - -"Well, the end of it is that you are to go up to see the Home -Secretary after the House has risen at Easter." - -Stowell's heart was beating high, yet he hardly knew whether he was -more proud than afraid. He mumbled something about the claims of his -seniors at the bar. - -"Oh yes, I know! All the old stick-in-the-muds! But keep your end -up in London and I'll keep mine up here." - -"You are very good, Sir. You have always been good to me." - -The Governor, who had been rattling on, in a rush of high spirits, -suddenly became grave and spoke slowly. - -"Not at all," he said. "And I'm not thinking of you as .... what you -are going to be. I'm thinking of you as your father's son, and -expecting you to live up to your traditions. We want the spirit of -the great Deemster in the island these days. Violence! Violence! -Violence! I agree with the Lord Chief. It seems as if the world is -getting out of hand. Justice is the only thing that can save it from -anarchy--utter anarchy and ruin. Let's have no more recommendations -to mercy! When people commit crime let them suffer. When they take -life--no matter who or what they are--let them die for it." - -"And by the way" (Stowell was leaving the room), "your father's -portrait is finished. We must unveil it before you go up to London." - -Trembling all over, Stowell went into the library to tell Fenella. - -"How splendid!" she said. She was glowing with excitement. "You've -done magnificent work for women as an advocate, but only think what -you will be able to do as a judge! There isn't a poor, wronged girl -in the island who won't know that she has a friend on the Bench!" - - -END OF SECOND BOOK - - - - -_THIRD BOOK_ - -THE CONSEQUENCE - - -CHAPTER NINETEEN - -THE EVE OF MARY - -Bessie Collister had passed through a very different winter. - -When she read in the insular newspaper the long report of the trial -of the Peel fisherman she was terrified. Men did not forgive their -wives, then, in such cases? On the contrary the more they loved them -the less they forgave them. - -Gell came bounding into the sitting-room while she had the newspaper -in her hand and before she had time to hide it away he saw what she -had been reading. - -"Terrible, isn't it?" he said. "Poor devil, I was sorry for him. -When a woman deceives a man like that the law ought to allow him to -put her away. He did wrong, of course, but he had no legal -remedy--not an atom. Old Vic made out a magnificent case for the -woman, but she deserved all she got, I'm afraid." - -Bessie gave a frightened cry, and then Gell said, as if to conciliate -her. - -"I'll tell you what, though. If the woman was guilty there was -somebody else who was ten times guiltier, and that was the other man. -The scoundrel! The treacherous, deceitful scoundrel, skulking away -in the dark! I should like to choke the life out of him. That's -what I said to Stowell going up in the train. 'If I had been in the -husband's place do you know what I should have done?' I said. 'I -should have killed the other man.'" - -Bessie's terror increased ten-fold. Dread of what Gell might do sat -on her like a nightmare. To marry him seemed to be impossible, yet -not to marry him, now that she loved him so much, seemed to be -impossible also. - -A secret hope came to her. It was early days yet. Perhaps something -would happen to her bye-and-bye, which, being over and done with, -would leave her free to marry Alick with a clean heart and conscience. - -To help it to come to pass, she stayed indoors, took no exercise, and -ate as little as possible. Her health declined, and her face in the -glass began to look peaky. She took a fierce joy in these signs of -increasing weakness. The Miss Browns kept a few chickens in their -back garden, and one morning, after the snow had begun to fall, they -found Bessie in bare feet going out to feed them. - -"Bessie, what are you doing?" they cried. - -"It's nothing," she said. "I'm used of it, you know. I was eight -years old before I wore shoe or stocking." - -Meantime she was putting Gell off and off. "Time enough yet, boy," -she would say as often as he asked her. - -"She's thinking of me again," thought Gell, and he began on a long -series of fictions to account for his new-found prosperity. He was -getting along wonderfully in his profession, and was better off now -than he had been before he lost his allowance. But still it was -"Bye-and-bye! Time enough yet, boy!" - -One day Gell came with an almost irresistible story. He had bespoken -a house in Athol Street. It was just what they wanted. Close to the -Law Library and nearly opposite the new Court House. Two rooms on -the ground floor for his offices, two on the first floor for their -living apartments, and two on the top for the kitchen and for the -maid. - -It is the temptation that no woman can resist--the desire to have a -home that shall be all her own--and for a few weeks Bessie fell to -it. Evening after evening, she and Alick sat side by side in the -sitting-room making catalogues of all they would require to set up a -household. Gell took charge of the tables and chairs and -side-boards. Bessie was the authority on the blankets and linen. It -was such a delight to construct a home from memory! And then what -laughs and thrills and shamefaced looks when, in spite of all their -thinking, they remembered some intimate and essential thing which -they had hitherto forgotten. - -"Sakes alive, boy, you've forgotten the bedstead." - -"Lord, so I have. We shall want a bedstead, shan't we?" - -But even this fierce gambling with her fate broke down at last with -Bessie. The certainty had fallen on her. The natural strength of -her constitution had withstood all the attacks she had made upon it. -Whether she married Gell, or did not marry him, there was nothing -before her except suffering and disgrace. How could she keep his -love against the shame that was striding down on her? - -Christmas had come. It was Christmas Eve. The Manx people call it -Oie'l Verry (the Eve of Mary), and during the last hour before -midnight they take possession of their parish churches, over the -heads of their clergy, for the singing of their ancient Manx carvals -(carols). The old Miss Browns were to keep Oie'l Verry at their -church in Castletown. They had always done so, and this time Bessie -was to go with them. - -It was a clear cold winter's night with crisp snow underfoot, and -overhead a world of piercing stars. - -As the two old maids in their long black boas, and Bessie in a -fur-lined coat which Gell had sent as a Christmas present, crossed -the foot-bridge over the harbour and walked under the blind walls of -the dark castle, the great clock in the square tower was striking -eleven. But it was bright enough in the market place, with the light -from the church windows on the white ground, and people hurrying to -church at a quick trot and stamping the snow off their boots at the -door. - -It was brighter still inside, for the altar and pulpit had been -decorated with ivy and holly, and, though the church was lit by gas, -most of the worshippers, according to ancient custom, had brought -candles also. - -The church was very full, but the old Miss Browns, with Bessie behind -them, walked up the aisle to the pew under the reading-desk which -they had always rented. The congregation about them was a strangely -mixed one, and the atmosphere was half solemn and half hilarious. - -The gallery was occupied by farm lads and fisher-lads chiefly, and -they were craning their necks to catch glimpses of the girls in the -pews below, while the girls themselves (as often as they could do so -without being observed by their elders) were glancing up with -gleaming eyes. In the body of the church there were middle-aged -folks with soberer faces, and in the front seats sat old people, with -slower and duller eyes and cheeks scored deep with wrinkles--the -mysterious hieroglyphics of life's troubled story, sickness and -death, husbands lost at half-tide and children gone before them. - -An opening hymn had just been sung, the last notes of the organ were -dying down, the clergyman, in his surplice, was sitting by the side -of the altar, and the first of the carol singers had risen in his -pew, candle in hand, to sing his carval. - -He was a rugged old man from the mountains of Rushen, half landsman -and half seaman, and his carol (which he sang in the Manx, while the -tallow guttered down on his discoloured fingers) was a catalogue of -all the bad women mentioned in the Bible, from Eve, the mother of -mankind, who brought evil into the world, to "that graceless wench, -Salome." - -After that came similar carols, sung by similar carol-singers and -received by the boys in the gallery with gusts of laughter which the -Clerk tried in vain to suppress. But at last there came a carval -sung in chorus by twelve young girls with sweet young voices and -faces that were chaste and pure and full of joy--all carrying their -candles as they walked slowly up the aisle from the western end of -the church to the altar steps. - -Their carol was an account of the Nativity, scarcely less crude than -the carols that had gone before it, though the singers seemed to know -nothing of that--how Joseph, being a just man, had espoused a virgin, -and finding she was with child before he married her, he had wished -to put her away, but the angel of the Lord had appeared to him and -told him not to, and how at last he had carried his wife and child -away into the land of Egypt, out of reach of the wrath of Herod the -King, who was trying to disgrace and destroy them. - -A little before midnight the clergyman rose and asked for silence. -And then, while all heads were bowed and there was a solemn hush -within, the great clock of the Castle struck twelve in the darkness -outside. After that the organ pealed out "Hark, the herald angels -sing," and everybody who had a candle extinguished it, and all stood -up and sang. - -The bells were ringing joyfully as the congregation trooped out of -the church, but for some while longer they moved about on the -crinkling snow in front of it, saluting and shaking hands, everybody -with everybody. - -"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to yea." - -"Same to you, and many of them." - -They saluted and shook hands with Bessie also. - -Then the Verger put out the lights in the church behind them, and in -the sudden darkness the crowd broke up, one more Oie'l Verry over, -and under the slow descent of the starlight the cheerful voices and -crinkling footsteps went their various ways home. - -Back at Derby Haven, Bessie, who had been on the point of crying -during the latter part of the service, ran up to her room, flung -herself face down on her bed and burst into a flood of tears. - -If she, too, could only fly away, and stay away, until her trouble -was over! But how could she do that? And where could she go to? - - - -II - -Two months passed. Bessie's time was fast approaching, and the -nearer it came the more she was terrified by the signs of it. The -symptoms of coming maternity which are a joy and a pride to married -mothers were a dread and a terror to her. Had she brought herself so -low that she could not live through the time that was before her? At -one moment she thought of going to Fenella. Everybody said how good -Miss Stanley was to girls in trouble. But when she remembered -Fenella's relation to Stowell, and Stowell's to Gell, and her own to -all three, she told herself that Fenella Stanley was the one woman in -the world whom she must never come face to face with. - -At length, thinking death was certain, she saw only one thing left to -do--to go back to her mother. It was not thus that she had expected -to return, but nothing else was possible now. In her helplessness -and ignorance, having no one to reassure her, the high-spirited girl -became a child again. Twenty years of her life slipped back at a -stride, and she felt as she used to do when she ran bare-foot on the -roads and fell and bruised her knees, or tore her little hairy legs -in the gorse and then went home to lie on her mother's lap and be -rocked before the fire and comforted. - -But going home had its terrors also. There was Dan Baldromma! What -could she do? Was there no way out for her? - -One day the elder of the Miss Browns (she gave music lessons to old -pupils at their own homes) came back from Castletown with a "shocking -story." It was about a witch-doctor at Cregnaish--a remote village -at the southernmost extremity of the island, where the inhabitants -were supposed to be descended from a crew of Spanish sailors who had -been wrecked on the rocky coast below. - -The witch-doctor was a woman, seventy years of age, and commonly -called Nan. Hitherto she had lived by curing ringworms on children -and blood-letting in strong men by means of charms that were half in -Latin and half in Manx. But now young wives were going to her to be -cured of barrenness, or for mixtures to make their husbands love -them; and worst of all, the young girls from all parts of the island -were flocking to her to be told their fortunes--whether their boys at -the mackerel fishing were true to them, or going astray with the -Irish girls of Kinsale and Cork. - -"It's shocking, this witchcraft," said old Miss Brown. "In my young -days it was given for law that the women who practised such arts -should stand in a white sheet on a platform in the marketplace with -the words _For Charming_ and _Sorcery_ in capital letters on their -breasts." - -Bessie said nothing, but next day, after breakfast, making excuse of -her need of a walk, she hurried out, took train to Port Erin, and -climbed, with many pauses, the zigzag path up the Mull Hills to where -a Druids' circle sits on the brow, and Cregnaish (like a gipsy -encampment of mud huts thatched with straw) sprawls over the breast -of them. - -It was a fine spring morning, with the sea lying still on either side -of the uplands, and the sun, through clouds of broken crimson, -peering over the shoulder of the Calf like a blood-shot eye. - -Bessie had no need to ask her way to the witch-doctor's house, for -troops of young girls were coming down from it, generally in pairs, -whispering and laughing merrily. At length she came upon it--a -one-storey thatched cottage with a queue of girls outside. - -When the last of the girls had gone, and Bessie still stood waiting -on the opposite side of the rutted space which served for a road, a -wisp of a woman, with hair and eyebrows as black as a shoe, but a -face as wrinkled as the trunk of the trammon tree, came to the door -and said, - -"Come in, my fine young woman. There's nothing to be freckened of." - -It was Nan, the witch-doctor, and Bessie followed her into the house. - -The inside was a single room with a fire at one end and a bed at the -other. The floor was of hardened clay and the scraas of the roof -were so low overhead that a tall man could scarcely have stood erect -under them. Bundles of herbs hung from nails in the sooty rafters -and when the old woman closed the door, Bessie saw that the _Crosh -cuirn_ (the cross of mountain ash) was standing at the back of it. - -"I'm in trouble, ma'am," said Bessie, who was on the verge of tears, -"and I'm wanting to know what to do and what is to happen to me." - -The witch-doctor, whose quick eyes had taken in the situation at a -glance, said, - -"Aw yes, bogh, trouble enough. But knock that cat off the cheer in -the choillagh and sit down and make yourself comfortable." - -Bessie loosened her fur-lined cloak and sat in the ingle, with the -fire at her feet and a peep of the blue sky coming down on her from -the wide chimney. - -"They were telling me a fine young woman was coming," said the -witch-doctor (she meant the invisible powers), "and it was wondering -and wondering I was would she have strength to climb the brews. But -here you are, my chree, and now a cup o' tay will do no harm at all." - -Bessie tried to refuse, but the old woman said, - -"Chut! A cup o' tay is nothing and here's my taypot on the warm turf -and the tay at the best, too." - -While Bessie sipped at her cup the witch-doctor went on talking, but -she took quick glances at the girl from time to time and sometimes -asked a question. - -At length she bolted the door, drew a thick blind over the window, -knelt before the hearth, and called on Bessie to do the same, so that -they were kneeling side by side, with no light in the darkened room -except the red glow from the fire on their faces and the blue streak -from the sky behind the smoke from the chimney. - -After that the witch-doctor mumbled some rhymes about St. Patrick and -the blessed St. Bridget, then put her ear to the ground, saying she -was listening to the _Sheean ny Feaynid_, the invisible beings who -were always wandering over the world. And then she began on the -fortune, which Bessie, who was trembling, interrupted with -involuntary cries. - -"There's a fair young man in your life, my chree (_Yes_) and if -you're not his equal you're the apple of his eye. There's a poor -ould woman, too, and she praying and praying for her bogh-millish to -come home to her (_Oh!_) and the longing that's taking the woman at -times is pitiful to see. 'Where is my wandering girl to-night,' -she's singing when she's sitting by her fireside; and when she's -going to bed she's saying, 'In Jesu's keeping nought can harm my -erring child.'" - -At this Bessie broke down utterly, and the witch-doctor had to stop -for a moment. Then she began again in a different strain, - -"There's an ould man too .... yes .... no .... (_Yes, yes!_) as -imperent as sin and as bould as a white stone, and with a vice at him -as loud as a trambone. Aw, yes, woman-bogh, yes, there's trouble -coming on you, but take heart, gel, for things will come out right -before long and it's a proud woman you're going to be some day. But -you must go home to the mother, my chree, and never take rest till -you're laying your head under the same roof with her." - -"And will the young man be true to me whatever happens?" - -"True as true, my chree, and his heart that warm to you at last that -it will be like gorse and ling burning on the mountains." - -"And will the old man be able to do him any injury?" - -"Lough bless me, no! Neither to him nor you, gel. Roaring and -tearing and mad as a wasp, maybe, but nothing to do no harm at all." - -Bessie had crossed the old woman's palm with sixpence as she came -into the house, but she emptied her purse into it going out, and then -went down the hill with a light step and a lighter heart. - -Alick Gell was at Derby Haven when she got back, having been waiting -for more than an hour. Seeing her coming down the road with her face -aglow, he dashed off to meet her, and broke into a flood of joyous -words. - -"Helloa! Here you are at last! Looking as fresh as a flower, too? -What did I say? Didn't I tell you that you had only to get about and -take exercise and you would be as right as rain in no time? But, -look here, Bess" (he had drawn her arm through his), "you've kept me -waiting all winter and now that you're getting better I'm going to -stand no more nonsense." - -Bessie was laughing. - -"I'm not! Upon my soul, I'm not! You wouldn't let me put up the -banns at Malew, thinking Dan Baldromma would hear of them through -Cæsar Qualtrough, and come here making a noise at Miss Brown's, -though he has no more right over you than the Coroner, and no more -power over me than a tomtit. But there are other ways of marrying -besides being called in church, and one of them is by Bishop's -licence." - -"Bishop's licence?" - -"Certainly! You just go up to the Registrar's in Douglas, sign your -names in a book, pay a few pounds, get the Bishop's certificate, and -then you can be married wherever you like and as quietly as you -please. And that's what we're going to do now." - -"Now? You mean to-day?" - -"Well, no, not to-day. I have to go to the Castle this afternoon. -They're unveiling a portrait of the old Deemster. And what do you -think, Bess?" - -"What?" - -"There's a whisper that Stowell is to be made Deemster in succession -to his father. Glorious, isn't it? Splendid chap! Straight as a -die! Rather young, certainly, but there's not one of the old gang -fit to hold a candle to him. He's to go up to London to-morrow, so I -want to see the last of him. But I'll be down by the first train -after the boat sails in the morning, and then we'll go back to -Douglas together." - -They had reached the gate of the old maid's house by this time and -Gell was looking at his watch. - -"Pshew! I must be off! Ceremony begins at three and it's that -already. Wouldn't miss it for worlds. By-bye! ... Another one! .... -Oh, but you must, though." - -Bessie looked after him as he hurried down the road, swinging his -arms and pitching his shoulders, as he always did when his heart was -glad. Then she went indoors, ran upstairs and set herself to think -things out. - -She must go before Alick could get back. When he arrived to-morrow -she must be on her way to her mother's. It was earlier than she had -intended, but there was no help for that now. And then it would be -all right in the end--the _Sheean ny Feaynid_ (the Voices of -Infinity) had said so. - -After her child had been born her mother would take it and bring it -up as her own--she had heard of such things happening in Manx houses, -hadn't she? And when all was over and everything was covered up, she -would come back, and then .... then Alick and she would be married. - -In the light of what the witch-doctor had said it seemed to her so -natural, so simple, so sure. But later in the evening, it tore her -heart woefully to think of Alick coming from Douglas on the following -day and finding her gone. So she wrote this note and stole out and -posted it: - - - "Don't come to-morrow. I'll be writing again in the morning, - telling you the reason why." - - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY - -VICTOR STOWELL'S VOW - -The old Court-house at Castle Rushen was full to overflowing. Nearly -all the great people of the island were there--the Legislative -Council, the Keys, the leaders of the Bar, the more prominent members -of the clergy, the long line of insular officials, with their wives -and daughters. - -A pale shaft of spring sunshine from the lantern light was on the new -portrait of the Deemster, which had been hung on the eastern wall and -was still covered by a white sheet. - -The time of waiting for the proceedings to begin was passed in a low -buzz of conversation, chiefly on one subject. "Is it true that he is -to follow his father?" "So they say." "So young and with so many -before him--I call it shocking." "So do I, but then he's the son of -the old Deemster, and is to marry the daughter of the Governor." - -At the last moment Stowell and Fenella arrived and were shown into -seats reserved for them at the end of the Jury-box. Then the -conversation (among the women at least) took another turn. "Well, -they're a lovely pair--I will say that for them." - -The Governor, accompanied by the Bishop and the Attorney-General, -stepped on to the crimson-covered dais, and the proceedings commenced. - -The Governor's own speech was a short one. They had gathered to do -honour to the memory of one of the most honoured of their countrymen. -The memory of its great men was a nation's greatest inheritance. If -that was true of the larger communities it was no less true of the -little realm of Man. - -"Hence the island," said the Governor, "is doing a service to itself -in setting up in this Court-house, the scene of his principal -activities, the memorial to its great Deemster which I have now the -honour to unveil." - -When the Governor pulled a cord and the white sheet fell from the -face of the picture there was a gasp of astonishment. The impression -of reality was startling. The Deemster had been painted in wig and -gown and as if sitting on the bench in that very Court-house. The -powerful yet melancholy eyes, the drawn yet firm-set mouth, the -suggestion of suffering yet strength--it was just as he had been seen -there last, summing up after the trial of the woman who had killed -her husband. - -As soon as the spectators, who had risen, had resumed their seats, -the Governor called on the Attorney-General. - -The old man was deeply moved. The Deemster had been his oldest and -dearest friend. It was difficult for him to remember a time when -they had not been friends and impossible to recall an hour in which -their friendship had been darkened by so much as a cloud. If it was -true that the memory of its great men was a nation's greatest -inheritage, the island had a great heritage in the memory of Deemster -Stowell. He had been great as a lawyer, great as a judge, great as a -gentleman, as a friend, as a lover, as a husband, and (with a glance -in the direction of the jury-box) as a father also. - -"I pray and believe," said the Attorney, "that this memorial to our -great Deemster may be a stimulus and an inspiration to all our young -men whatsoever, particularly to such as are in the profession of the -Bar, and especially to one who bears his name, has inherited many of -his splendid talents, and may yet be called, please God, to fill his -place and follow in his footsteps." - -When the old man sat down there was general applause, a little -damped, perhaps, by the last of his references, and then followed the -event of the afternoon. - -By the blind instinct that animates a crowd, all eyes turned in the -direction of Victor Stowell. He sat by Fenella's side, breathing -audibly with head down and hands clasped tightly about one of his -knees. - -There was a pause and then a low stamping of feet and Fenella -whispered, - -"They want you to speak, dear." - -But Stowell did not seem to hear, and at length the Governor called -on him by name. - -When he rose he looked pale and much older, and bore a resemblance to -the picture of his father on the opposite wall which few had observed -before. - -He began in a low tense voice, thanking His Excellency for asking him -to speak, but saying he would have given a great deal not to do so. - -"The only excuse I can have for standing here to-day," he said, "is -that I may thank you, Sir, and this company, and my countrymen and -countrywomen generally, in the name of one whose voice, so often -heard within these walls, must now be silent." - -After that he paused, as if not quite sure that he ought to go -further, and then continued, - -"If my father was a great Judge, it was chiefly because he was a -great lover of Justice. Justice was the most sacred thing on earth -to him, and no man ever held higher the dignity and duty of a Judge. -Woe to the Judge who permitted personal motives to pervert his -judgment, and thrice woe to him who committed a crime against -justice. Therefore, if I know my father's heart and have any right -to speak for him, I will say that what you have done this afternoon -is not so much to perpetuate the memory of Douglas Stowell, Deemster -of Man, as to set up in this old Court-house, which has witnessed so -many tragic scenes, an altar to the spirit of Justice, so that no -Judge, following him in his place, may ever forget that his first and -last and only duty is to be just and fear not." - -He paused again and seemed to be about to stop, but, in a voice so -low as to be scarcely audible, he said, - -"As for myself I hardly dare to speak at all. What my dear master -has said of me makes it difficult to say anything. Some people seem -to think it is a great advantage to a young man to be the son of a -great father. But if it is a great help it is also a great -responsibility and may sometimes be the source of a great sorrow. I -never knew what my father had been to me until I lost him. I had -always been proud of him, but I had rarely or never given him reason -to be proud of me. That is a fault I cannot repair now. But there -is one thing I can do and one thing only. I can take my solemn -vow--and here and now I do so--that whatever the capacity in which my -duty calls me to this place, I will never wilfully do anything in the -future, with my father's face on the wall in front of me, that shall -be unworthy of my father's son." - -There were husky cheers and some clapping of hands when Stowell sat -down, but most of the men were clearing their throats and wiping the -mist off their spectacles, and nearly all of the women were coughing -and drying their eyes. - -Others were to have spoken but the Governor closed up the proceedings -quickly, and then there was a general conversazione. - -The officials were talking in groups:--"Wonderful! The Governor and -the old Attorney were grand, but the young man was wonderful!" "We -might go farther and fare worse." "Like his father, you say?" (it -was the Attorney-General) "so like what his father was at his age -that sometimes when I look at him I think I'm a young man myself -again, and then it's a shock to go home and see an old man's face in -the glass." - -A group of old ladies had gathered about Fenella, whose great eyes -were ablaze. - -"It was beautiful, my dear, but there was just one other person who -ought to have been here to hear it." - -"Who?" - -"The old Deemster himself, dear." - -"But he was," said Fenella. - -The Governor drew Stowell aside. "It's all right, my boy! Must have -been instinct, but you touched your people on their tenderest place. -Pretty hard on you, perhaps, but I knew what I was doing. The -opposition in the island is as dead as a door nail already. Get into -the saddle in London and you'll never hear another word about it." - -There were only two dissentients. - -"Aw well, we'll see, we'll see," said the Speaker--he was going out -of the Castle (head down and his big beard on his breast), with old -Hudgeon the advocate. - -As he passed through the outer gate his son Alick came running -hotfoot up to it. - -It was a cruel moment. - - - -II - -Victor Stowell left the island for London at nine o'clock next -morning. The first bell of the steamer had been rung, the mails were -aboard, and the more tardy of the passengers were hurrying to the -gangway, with their porters behind them, when the Governor's carriage -drew up and Stowell leapt out of it. - -A large company of the younger advocates (all former members of the -"Ellan Vannin") were waiting for him. - -"Come to see me off? Yes? Jolly good of you," said Stowell, and he -stood talking to them at the top of the pier steps till the second -bell had been rung. - -Down to that moment nobody had said a word about the object of his -journey, although every eye betrayed knowledge of it. But just as he -was crossing the gangway to the steamer one of the advocates (a -little fat man with the reputation of a wag) cried, with a broad -smatch of the Anglo-Manx, - -"Bring it back in your bres' pockat, boy"--meaning the King's -commission for the Deemstership. - -"You go bail," said Stowell, and there was general laughter. - -He was settling himself with his portmanteau in the deck cabin that -had been reserved for him when somebody darkened the doorway. - -"Helloa!" - -It was Gell. His cheeks were white, his face looked troubled, and he -was breathing rapidly as if he had been running. - -"What's amiss?" said Stowell. "Something has happened to you. What -is it?" - -Gell stepped into the cabin, and with a suspicion of tears both in -his eyes and voice, told his story. - -It was Bessie again. He didn't know what had come over the girl. -She had been holding off all winter. First one excuse, then another. - -"I've done all I can think of. Taken a house in Athol Street and -furnished it beautifully (thanks to you, old fellow), but it's no -use, seemingly." - -"When did you see her last?" - -"Yesterday, and I thought I had settled everything at last. She -wouldn't be called in church, so I arranged that I was to go down to -Derby Haven this morning, as soon as your boat sailed, and we were to -come up to the Registrar's to sign for a Bishop's license. And now, -by the first post .... this." - -With a trembling hand Gell took out of his pocket the letter which -Bessie had written the night before and handed it to Stowell. - -With a momentary uneasiness Stowell read the letter. - -"Reason? What is it likely to be, think you?" - -"I don't know. I can't say. It's a mystery. I've racked my brains -and can only think of one thing now." - -"And what's that?" - -"That she finds out at last that she doesn't care enough for me to -marry me." - -"Nonsense, old fellow." - -"What else can it be? There can be nothing else, can there?" - -Stowell's uneasiness increased. "What do you intend to do?" - -"Go down just the same. I've been telegraphing saying I'm coming. -That's why I'm late getting down to the boat." - -"And if she persists?" - -"Give her up and clear out, I suppose." - -"You mean leave the island?" - -"Why shouldn't I? I've only been a stick-in-the-mud here and -couldn't do much worse anywhere else, could I? Besides" (his voice -was breaking) "there's my father. You remember what he said. I -couldn't face it out if the girl threw me over." - -"She's not well, is she?" - -"Not very." - -"Nothing serious?" - -"No--nothing, the Miss Browns think, that we might not expect after -such a change in her life and condition." - -"Then that's it! Cheer up, old man! It will all come right yet. -Women suffer from so many things that we men know nothing about." - -"If I could only think that...." - -"You may--of course you may." - -"Victor," said Gell, taking Stowell's hand, "will you do one thing -more for me?" - -"Certainly--what is it?" - -"Nobody can read a woman as you can--everybody says that. If Bessie -gives me the same answer to-day will you go down to Derby Haven with -me when you come back, and find out what's amiss with her?" - -"Assuredly I will .... that is to say .... if you think...." - -"Is it a promise?" - -"Undoubtedly. It shall be the first thing I do when I return to the -island." - -"All ashore! All ashore!" - -A sailor was shouting on the deck outside the cabin door, and the -third bell was ringing. - -Gell was the last to cross the gangway. - -"Good-bye and God bless you, and good luck in London! You deserve -every bit of it!" - -At the next moment the gangway was pulled in, the ropes were thrown -aboard, and the steamer was gliding away. - -The young advocates on the pier-head were beginning to make a -demonstration. One of them (the wag of course) was singing a -sentimental farewell in a doleful voice and the others were joining -in the chorus: - - "_Better lo'ed ye canna be, - Will ye no come back again?_" - - -Some of the other passengers (English commercial travellers -apparently) were looking on, so to turn the edge of the joke Stowell -sang also, and when his deep baritone was heard above the rest there -was a burst of laughter. - -"Good-bye! Good-luck! Bring it back, boy!" - -Gell was standing at the sea-end of the pier, waving his cap and -struggling to smile. At sight of his face Stowell felt ashamed of -his own happiness. A vague shadow of something that had come to him -before came again, with a shudder such as one feels when a bat -strikes one in the dusk. - -At the next moment it was gone. The steamer was swinging round the -breakwater and opening the bay, and he was looking for a long white -house (Government House) which stood on the heights above the town. -He had slept there last night, and this morning Fenella, parting from -him in the porch, while the Governor's high-stepping horses were -champing on the gravel outside, had promised to signal to him when -she saw the steamer clearing the harbour. - -Ah, there she was, waving a white scarf from an upper window. -Stowell stood by the rail at the stern and waved back his -handkerchief. Fenella! He could see nothing but her dark eyes and -beaming smile, and Gell's sad face was forgotten. - -It was a fine fresh morning, with the sun filtering through a veil of -haze and the world answering to the call of Spring. As the boat -sailed on, the island seemed to recede and shrink and then sink into -the sea until only the tops of the mountains were visible--looking -like a dim grey ghost that was lying at full stretch in the sky. - -At length it was gone; the sea-gulls which had followed the steamer -out had made their last swirl round and turned towards the land, but -Stowell was still looking back from the rail at the stern. - -The dear little island! How good it had been to him! How eager he -would be to return to it! - -The sun broke clear, the waters widened and widened, the glistening -blue waves rolled on and on, the ship rose and fell to the rhythm of -the flowing tide, the throb of the engines beat time to the deep -surge of the sea, and the still deeper surge of youth and love and -health and hope within him. - -Dear God, how happy he was! What had he done to deserve such -happiness? - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - -MOTHER'S LAW OR JUDGE'S LAW? - -Bessie had passed a miserable night. Having been awake until after -five in the morning she was asleep at nine when somebody knocked at -her bedroom door. It was old Miss Ethel with a telegram. Bessie -opened it with trembling fingers. - - - "_Nonsense dear am coming up as arranged Alick._" - - -With fingers that trembled still more noticeably Bessie returned the -telegram to its envelope and slid it under her pillow, saying (with a -twitching of the mouth which always came when she was telling an -untruth), - -"It's from Mr. Gell. He wants me to meet him in Douglas. I am to go -up immediately." - -"That's nice," said Miss Ethel. "The change will do you a world of -good, dear. I'll run down and hurry your breakfast, so that you can -catch the ten-thirty." - -Bessie dressed hastily, put a few things into a little handbag, and -then sat down to write her promised letter. It was a terrible -ordeal. What could she say that would not betray her secret? At -length she wrote: - - - "DEAR ALICK,--Do forgive me. I must go away for a little while. - It is all my health. I have been ill all winter and suffered - more than anybody can know. But God is good, and I will get my - health and strength back soon, and then I will return and we can - be married and everything will be alright. Do not think I do not - love you because I am leaving you like this. I have never loved - you so dear as now. But I am depressed, and I cannot get away - from my thoughts. And please, Alick dear, don't try to find me. - I shall be quite alright, and I shall think of you every night - before I go to sleep, and every morning when I awake. So now I - must close with all my love and kisses. - - --BESSIE, xxxxx" - - -Having written her letter, and blotted it with many tears, she pinned -it to the top of her pillow, without remembering that the telegram -lay underneath. Then she hurried downstairs, swallowed a mouthful of -breakfast standing, said good-bye to her old housemates with an -effort at gaiety, and set off as for the railway station. - -She had no intention of going there. The morning haze was thick on -the edge of the sea, and as soon as she was out of sight of the house -she slipped across the fields to a winding lane which led to the open -country. - -During the night, crying a good deal and stifling her sobs under the -bed-clothes, she had thought out all her plans. It was still two -months before her time, and to be separated from Alick as long as -that was too painful to think about. It was also too dangerous. -Long before the end of that time he would search for her and find -her, and then her secret would become known, and that would be the -end of everything. - -She had been to blame, but what had she done to be so unhappy? Why -should Nature be so cruel to a girl? Was there no way of escape from -it? - -At length a light had dawned on her. Remembering what she had heard -of women doing (wives as well as unmarried girls) to get rid of -children who were not wanted, she determined that her own child -should be still-born. Why not? It threatened to separate her from -Alick--to turn his love for her into hatred. Why should it come into -the world to ruin her life, and his also? - -Yes, she would tire herself out, expose herself to some great strain, -some fearful exhaustion, and thereby bring on a sudden and serious -illness. Instead of taking the train she would walk all the way home -to her mother's house--twenty odd miles, fifteen of them over a steep -and rugged mountain road. It would be dangerous to a girl in her -condition, but not half so dangerous as marrying Alick now, and -running the risk of an end like that of the poor young wife of the -Peel fisherman. - -And then it would be so much fairer. If her fault, her misfortune, -could be wiped out before she married Alick, nobody could say she had -deceived her husband. - -Such was the wild gamble with life and death which Bessie had decided -upon at the prompting of love and shame and fear. The consequences -were not long in coming. - -The winding lane had to cross the railway line near to a village -station before it reached the open country, and coming sharply upon -the level-crossing at a quick turning she found the gates closed and -a train drawing up at the platform. - -She knew at once that this must be the train from Douglas which Alick -Gell was to travel by, and in a moment she saw him. He was sitting -alone in a first-class carriage, looking pale and troubled. In the -next compartment were four or five young advocates from the south -side of the island, who had been up to see Stowell off by the -steamer. They were smoking and laughing, and one of them, who -appeared to have been drinking also, seeing Bessie coming up to the -gate, dropped his window and swung off his hat to her. - -Bessie dropped back to the partial cover of the fence. Only her fear -of attracting attention restrained her from flying off altogether. -Alick had not yet seen her. It tore her terribly to see how ill he -looked. He was only three or four yards away from her. His head was -down. At one moment he took off his cap and ran his fingers through -his fair hair as if his head were aching. She could scarcely resist -an impulse to pass through the turnstile and hurry up to him. One -look, one smile, one word, and she would have thrown everything to -the winds even yet. - -But no, the guard waved his flag, the engine whistled, the train -jerked backward, then forward, and at the next instant it had slid -out of the station. Alick had not seen her. He was gone. It had -been like a stab at her heart to see him go. - - - -II - -Half an hour later she was on the rugged mountain road that led to -her mother's house in the north of the island. Her first fear was -the fear of being overtaken and carried back. At Silverburn, where a -deep river gurgles under the shadow of a dark bridge, she heard the -crack of whips, the clatter of horses' hoofs and the whoop of loud -voices. - -It was nothing. Only two farm shandries, the first containing a -couple of full-blooded farm girls, and the second a couple of lusty -farm lads, racing home after market, laughing wildly and shouting to -each in the free language of the countryside. It was like something -out of her former life--one of the outbreaks of animal instinct that -had brought her to where she was. - -But no matter! She would be a proud and happy woman yet--the _Sheean -ny Feaynid_ had said so. - -After the fear of being pursued came the fear of being lost--becoming -an outcast and a wanderer. She had toiled up to the Black Fort on -the breast of the hill. The morning haze had vanished by this time, -the sun had come out, the larks were singing in the cloudless sky, -the smell of spring was rising from the young grass in the fields, -the roadsides were yellow with primroses and daffodils, and the whole -world was looking glad with the promise of the beautiful new year -that was already on the wing. It was heart-breaking. - -Feeling hot and tired after her climb, she sat on a stone. The sea -was open from that point, and on the farthest rim of it she could see -a red-funnelled steamer and two black shafts of smoke. Stowell! -Never before had she thought bitterly of him. But he was there, -going up to London in comfort, in luxury, while she.... - -It was cruel. But crueller than her bitter thoughts of Stowell were -her tender thoughts of Gell. He would be at Derby Haven now, reading -(with that twitching of the lower lip which she knew so well) the -letter she had left behind for him, while she was here, running away -from the arms of the man who loved her. But no matter about that, -either! One day, two days, three days, a week perhaps, and she would -return to him. She was to be a proud and happy woman yet--the -_Sheean ny Feaynid_ had said so. - -Hours passed. The road stretched out and out, became steeper and -steeper. Bessie felt more and more tired. She was often compelled -to sit by the wayside, and sometimes, being worn out by the want of -sleep, she fell into a doze. The sky darkened and dropped; the sun -went down behind the mountains to the west with a straight black bar -across its face that was like a heavy lid over a sullen eye. Would -she be able to reach home that night? She would! She must! Alick -was waiting for her to come back. She dare not keep him long. - -Evening had closed in before she reached the top of the hill. It was -a long waste of bracken and black rock, with no farms anywhere, and -only a few thatched cottages that crouched in the sheltered places -like frightened cattle in a storm. Feeling weak and faint from long -climbing and want of food, she was about to sit down again and cry, -having lost hope of reaching her mother's house that night, when she -came upon a little lamb, scarcely a month old, which had strayed away -from the flock and was too tired to go farther. - -The poor creature bleated piteously into her face, and she lifted it -up in her arms and carried it a long half mile (the lost carrying the -lost, the desolate comforting the desolate) until she came to a high -gate at which a mother sheep was plunging furiously in her efforts to -get out to them. Bessie put the lamb to its feet, and it clambered -through the bars, plucked at the teat, and then there was peace and -silence. - -This strengthened her and she went on for some time longer with a -cheerful heart. Yes, she must reach home that night. And if it was -as late as midnight before she got there, so much the better! Nobody -must see her come, and then her mother would be able to conceal -everything. - -Night fell. It began to rain and the wind to rise. She had never -been afraid of darkness or bad weather, but now she took a wild -delight in them. Remembering what other women had done, she took off -her shoes and walked on the wet roads in her stockings. It was risky -but she cared nothing about that. It might bring on a fever, but she -was strong--she would soon get over it. - -Farmers returning empty from market offered her a lift, but she -declined and toiled on. The lighted windows of the farmhouses, -gleaming through the darkness, called her into warmth and shelter, -but she struggled along. The soles of her stockings were soon worn -to shreds and the stones of the roads were beginning to cut her feet, -but she would not put on her shoes. In her frenzy she hardly felt -the pain. And besides, what she was suffering for Alick was as -nothing compared to what Alick had suffered for her. Only one night! -It would soon be over. - -She had walked at her slow pace down a deep descent and through a -long valley when she came upon an inn and a big barn that was a scene -of great festivity. She knew what it was. It was one of the -"Bachelors' Balls" which, beginning with _Oiel Thomase Dhoo_ (the Eve -of Black Thomas) and going on through the spring of the year, the -unmarried men in remote places gave to the unmarried girls of the -parish. - -The rain was now falling in torrents and the wind had risen to the -strength of a gale, but it must have been close and hot inside the -barn, for as Bessie passed on the other side of the way, the doors -were thrown open. The rude place was densely crowded. Stable lamps -hung from the rough-hewn rafters. At one end the musicians sat on a -platform raised on barrels; at the other end girls in white blouses -were serving tea from a long plank covered with a table-cloth and -resting on trestles. In the space between, a dense group of young -men and women were dancing with furious energy. - -This, too, was like something out of her own life. Ah, if somebody -had only told her .... - -But what matter! She would be a proud and happy woman yet--the -_Sheean ny Feaynid_ had said so. - -It was now midnight by the wrist-watch that Alick had given her, and -she had still another hill to climb, steeper than the last if -shorter. While she was going up the rain flogged her face as with -whipcord, and, when she reached the top, the wind, sweeping across -the low-lying lands from the sea, tore at her skirts as if it were -trying to strip her naked. At one moment it brought her to her -knees, and she thought she would never be able to rise to her feet -again. It was very dark. She was feeling weak and helpless. - -Once more she remembered Stowell. He would be on his way to London -now. She could see him (Alick had often painted such pictures) -sitting in a brightly-lit first-class railway carriage, smoking -cigarettes and sipping coffee. - -At this thought her whole soul rose in revolt. Why was he there -while she was here? She had never loved him; he had never loved her; -they had both done wrong. But why for the same fault should there be -such different punishment? - -People who went to churches and chapels talked of nature and God. -They said God was good and He was the God of nature. It was a lie--a -deception! If God was good He was not the God of nature. If He was -the God of nature He was not good. Nature was cruel and pitiless. -Only to a man was it kind. If you were a woman it had no mercy on -you. It never forgot you; it never forgave you. Therefore a woman -had a right to fight it, and when it threatened to destroy her -happiness, and the happiness of those who loved her, she had a right -to kill it. - -That was what she was doing now. Perhaps she had done it already. -The heavy burden that had been lying so long under her heart had -given no sign of life for hours. So much the better! That passage -in her life must be dead and buried. Victor Stowell must be wiped -out for ever. Then she could marry Alick Gell with a clean heart and -conscience. - -Therefore, courage, courage! She would be a proud and happy woman -yet--the _Sheean ny Feaynid_ had said so. - -Only the great thing was to get home before daybreak, so that nobody -might see her until all was over. - -Somewhere in the dead and vacant dawn a pale, forlorn-looking woman, -whom nobody could have known for Bessie Collister, was approaching -the village of the glen. She had been eighteen hours on her journey, -most of the time on her feet. Her fur-lined cloak was sodden and -heavy. Her black hair had been torn from its knot and was hanging -dank over her neck and shoulders. Her feet, in her dry boots, were -cold and bleeding. A silk scarf which had been tied over her -closely-fitting fur cap was dripping, and a little bag on her arms -was wet through with all that was contained in it. - -She had expected to arrive before break of day, but nobody in the -village was yet stirring. In the long street of whitewashed houses -all the window blinds were still down and looking like closed -eye-lids. - -She tied up her hair, removed the scarf and put on a veil from her -handbag, drew it closely over her face, and then walked with head -down and a step as light as she could make it, through the sleeping -village. - -She met nobody. Not a door was opened; not a blind was drawn aside; -she had not been seen. She drew a long breath of relief. But -suddenly, with the first sight of the mill, came a stab of memory, - -Dan Baldromma! - -Since the witch-doctor had told her that though Dan might rage and -tear he could do no harm to her or to Alick she had ceased to think -of him. But why had she not thought of the harm he might do to her -mother? All the way up since she was a child she had seen the -tyrannies he had inflicted upon her mother through her. What fresh -tyranny would he inflict on her now?--now that she was coming home -like this to be a burden to.... - -For a moment Bessie told herself she must go back even yet. But she -was too weak and too ill to go one step farther. All the same she -could not face her step-father in her present condition. If she -could only get upstairs to her bedroom and sleep--sleep, sleep! - -She listened for the mill-wheel--it was not working. She looked at -the mill-door--it had not yet been opened. It was impossible that -Dan could be in bed--he was such an early riser. He must have gone -up the brews to look at the heifers in the top fields. - -With a slow step she went over to the dwelling-house. The door was -shut, but she could hear sounds from the kitchen. There was the -shuffling of slow feet, accompanied by the tap of a walking-stick; -then the blowing and coughing of bellows and the crackling of burning -gorse; and then the measured beating of a foot on the hearthstone, -keeping time to a husky and tremulous voice that was singing-- - - "_Safe in the arms of Jesus, - Safe in His tender care._" - - -With a palpitating heart Bessie lifted the latch, pushed the door -open and took one step into the kitchen. Her mother, who was still -wearing her night-cap, was sitting on the three-legged stool in the -choillagh, stirring porridge in the oven-pot that hung from the -slowrie. She had heard the click of the latch and was looking round. - -There was silence for a moment. Bessie tried to speak and could not. -The old woman rose on rigid limbs and her hand on the handle of her -stick was trembling. It was just as if the spirit of someone she had -been thinking about had suddenly appeared before her. - -"Is it thyself, girl?" she said, in a breathless whisper. - -"Mother!" cried Bessie, and she took another step forward. - -Again there was a moment of silence. With her heart at her lips -Bessie saw that her mother's eyes were wandering over her figure. -Then the stick dropped from the old woman's hand to the floor and she -stretched out her arms, and her thin hands shook like withered leaves. - -"Bolla veen! bolla veen!" she cried, in a low voice that was a sob. -"It's my own case over again." - -And then the girl fell into her mother's arms and buried her head in -her breast and cried, as only a suffering child can cry, helplessly, -piteously. - -A moment later, there was a heavy footstep outside, and the ring of -an iron tool thrown down on the "street." The old woman raised her -face with a look of fear. - -"It's thy father," she whispered. - - - -III - -Dan Baldromma had risen earlier than usual that morning. For more -than a week there had not been water enough to his mill-wheel for his -liking, and suspecting the cause of the shortage he had put a pick -over his shoulder and walked up the glen. - -There was a little croft on the top of the brews half a mile nearer -to the mountain. It was called Baldromma-beg (the little Baldromma) -and its occupants (sub-tenants of Dan Baldromma) were a quaint old -couple--Will Skillicorne, a long, slow-eyed, slow-legged person who -was a class-leader among the "Primitives," and his wife, Bridget, a -typical little Manxwoman of her class, keen-eyed, quick-tongued, -illiterate and superstitious. - -Their croft was thirsty land, though water in abundance was so near, -and to every request that it should be laid on in pipes from the -glen, Dan had said, "Let your wife carry it---what else is the woman -there for?" - -Bridget had carried it for ten years. Then her anger getting the -better of her, she put on a pair of her husband's big boots and -rolled two great boulders into a neck of the river, with the result -that a deep stream of sweet water came flowing down to her house and -fields. - -This was just what Dan had suspected, and coming upon the new-made -dam, he stretched his legs across it, swung his pick and sent the -boulders tumbling down the glen, with a torrent of water from -Baldromma-beg at the back of them. - -But Bridget, also, had risen earlier than usual that morning, and, -hearing the sound of Dan's pick, she went out to him at his bad work -and fell on him with hot reproaches. - -"Was there nothing doing down at the mill, Dan Collister," she cried, -"that thou must be coming up here to put thy evil eye on other -people's places?" - -"Get thee indoors, woman," growled Dan, "and put thy house in order." - -"My house in order? Mine? And what about thine? Thine that is a -disgrace to the parish and the talk of the island." - -"Keep a civil tongue in thy head, Mrs. Skillicorne, or maybe I'll be -showing thee the road at Hollantide." - -"Turn me out of the croft, will thou? Do it and welcome! I give -thee lave. It would be middling aisy to find a better farm, and -Satan himself couldn't find a worse landlord. But set thou one foot -on this land until my year is over and if there's a bucket of dirty -water on the cowhouse floor I'll throw it over thee. Put my house in -order indeed! Where's thy daughter, eh? Where's thy daughter, I -say?" - -"I've got no daughter, woman, and well thou knows it," said Dan. - -"'Deed I do. No wonder the Lord wouldn't trust thee with a daughter -of thy own, the way thou's brought up this one. The slut! The -strumpet! Away with thee and look for her--it will become thee -better." - -But Dan having finished his work was now plunging down the glen and -old Will Skillicorne had come out of his house half dressed, with his -braces hanging behind him. - -"Come in, woman--lave the man to God," said Will. - -"God indeed! The dirt! The ugly black toad! God wouldn't bemane -Himself talking to the like." - -"Thou's done it this time, though, I'm thinking. Thou heard what he -said about Hollantide?" - -"Chut! Get thee back to bed. What's thou putting thy mouth in for? -Who knows where the man himself will be by that time?" - -With a face like a black cloud after this encounter, Dan threw down -his pick on the cobbles of the street and went into the kitchen to -work off his anger on his wife. - -"That's what thou's done for me, ma'am! There's not a trollop in the -parish that isn't throwing thy daughter's bad doings in my face." - -The kitchen was full of smoke, for the porridge in the oven-pot had -been allowed to burn, and it was not until he was standing back to -the fire, putting his pipe in the pocket of his open waistcoat, that -Dan saw Bessie where she had seated herself, after breaking out of -her mother's arms, by the table and in the darkest corner. - -He took in the girl's situation at a glance, but after the manner of -the man he pretended not to do so. - -"God bless my soul," he cried. "Back, is she? Well, well! But what -did I say, mother? 'No need to send the Cross Vustha (the fiery -cross) after her, she'll come home.' And my goodness the grand -woman's she's grown! Fur caps and fur-lined cloaks and I don't know -the what! Just come to put a sight on the mother and the ould man, I -suppose. No pride at all at all! I wouldn't trust but there's a -grand carriage waiting for her at the corner of the road." - -"Aisy, man, aisy," said Mrs. Collister, picking up her stick, "don't -thou see the girl has walked?" - -"Walked, has she?" said Dan, raising his thick eyebrows in pretended -astonishment. "You don't say! All the way from Castletown? Well, -well! So that's how it is, is it? The young waistrel has thrown her -over, has he?" - -Bessie had to put her hand to her throat to keep back the cry that -was bubbling up. - -"Aisy, man, aisy with the like," said the old woman. But Dan was for -showing no mercy. - -"Goodness me, the airs she gave herself going away! I might shut my -door on her, but there would be others to open theirs. And now they -have opened them, and shut them too, I'm thinking." - -Bessie, crushed and silent, was clutching the end of the table. Dan -stepped over to her, laid hold of her left hand, lifted it up, as if -looking for her wedding ring, and then flung it away. - -"Nothing!" he said. "She's got nothing for it neither. I might have -followed her to Castletown, but I didn't. 'I'll lave her to it,' I -thought. 'Maybe the girl's cleverer than we thought, and will come -home mistress of Baldromma and a thousand good acres besides.' But -no, not a ha'porth! And now she has come back to ate us up for the -rest of our lives! The toot! The boght! The booby!" - -"Dan Collister," said the old woman, "don't thou see the girl is ill?" - -"Ill, is she?" said Dan. "I wouldn't trust but she is, ma'am. So -it's worse than I thought, and maybe before long there'll be another -mouth to feed." - -Bessie dropped her head on the table. - -"But not in this house, if you plaze, miss. It happened here once -before, and the island would be having a fine laugh at me if it -happened again." - -Once more Dan stepped over to Bessie and touched her arm. - -"You're like a dead letter, you've come to the wrong address, -mistress. It wasn't Dan Baldromma's thatched cottage you were -wanting, but the big slate house down the road where the paycocks are -scraming. I'll trouble you to go there." - -"Sakes alive, man," cried the old woman, "thou'rt not for turning the -girl out of doors?" - -"I am that, ma'am," said Dan, going over to the door. "No trollop -shall be telling me again that my house is the disgrace of the parish -and the talk of the island." - -Then throwing the door wide and rattling the catch of it, he said, - -"Out of my house, miss! Out of it! Out of it!" - -Bessie, who had been sitting motionless, raised her head and rose to -go, although scarcely able to take a step forward, when she felt a -hand that was trembling like a leaf laid on her shoulder. - -"Stay thou there, and leave this to me." - -It was the old woman who had been crouching over the fire on the -three-legged stool and had now risen, thrown her stick away as if she -had no longer any need of it, and was facing her husband with blazing -eyes. - -"Thou talks and talks of this house as thine and thine," she said. -"What made it thine?" - -"The law, if thou wants to know, woman," said Dan. - -"Then the law is a robber and a thief." - -Dan looked at his wife in astonishment, and then burst into a fit of -forced laughter. - -"Well, that's good! That's rich! That's wonderful! What next, I -wonder?" - -"Do you want me to tell thee the truth, Dan Collister? Before the -girl, too? Then there's not a stick or a stone in the place that in -the eyes of heaven does not belong to me." - -"What?" - -"Not a stick or a stone, except the landlord's, that wasn't bought -with my father's money--John Corteen, a man of God, if ever there was -one." - -"Pity his daughter didn't take after him, then." - -"Pity enough, Dan Collister. But when I brought shame into his house -he forgave me. And when the finger of death was on the man the only -trouble he had in life was what was to become of his girl when he was -gone." - -"Truth enough, ma'am, he had to find thee a husband, hadn't he?" - -"He hadn't far to look, though. And if thou had nothing in thy -pocket and not much on thy back thou had plenty in thy mouth to make -up for it. Thou were not afraid of scandal! Thou didn't mind -marrying a girl who had been talked of with another man!" - -"And I did, didn't I?" - -"Thou did, God forgive thee! But not till the man's trembling hand -had reached up to the hole in the thatch over his bed for his -stocking purse and counted the money out to thee. Three hundred good -Manx pounds he had worked thirty years for and saved up for his -daughter. And then thou swore on the Holy Book to be good to his -girl and her baby, and the man's dying eyes on thee. And now--now -thou talks of turning my girl out of the house--this house that would -have been her house some day if thou had not come between us. But -no! Thou shan't do that." - -"Shan't I?" - -"'Deed thou shan't! She may have done wrong, but if she has it's no -more than her mother did before her, and if _I_ daren't turn her out -for it thou shalt not." - -"We'll see, ma'am, we'll see," said Dan. He was buttoning up his -waistcoat and putting on his coat. - -"It's no use talking to a woman. There's not much sense to be got -out of the like anyway. But when a man marries, the property of the -wife becomes the property of the husband--that's Dempster's law, -isn't it? And standing up for your legal rights, and not being -forced by your wife, or anybody else, to find maintenance for another -man's offspring when it comes--that's Dempster's law too, I belave." - -"Yes," said the old woman, "and standing up for your own flesh and -blood when she's sick and weak and the world is going cold on her and -she has nowhere else to lay her head in her trouble--that's Mother's -law, Dan Collister, and it's older than the Dempster's, I'm thinking." - -"Do as you plaze, ma'am," said Dan. "If you want more noising about -the bad doings of your daughter it's all as one to me." - -He took his billycock hat down from the "lath" under the ceiling and -continued, - -"I'll hear what the Speaker has to say about this, though. His wife -wasn't for doing much for thee when the honour of this house was in -question, but maybe she'll alter her tune now that it's the honour of -her own." - -He drew his whip from its nail over the fireplace and stepped to the -door. - -"And if this matter ends as I expect I'll be hearing what the Coorts -have to say about it, too. Young Mr. Sto'll is to be made Dempster -they're telling me. They're putting him in for it, anyway, and he is -bosom friend to the Spaker's son. But friend or no friend," he said, -with his hand on the hasp, and ready to go, "maybe his first job when -he comes back to the island will be to send his Coroner to this house -to turn the man's mistress and her by-child into the road." - -"Tell him to send her coffin at the same time, then," cried the old -woman, almost screaming. "Mine too, Dan Collister. That's the only -way he'll turn my daughter out of this house, I promise thee." - -But the old woman collapsed the moment her husband had gone, and -staggering to the rocking-chair she dropped into it and cried. Then -Bessie, who had not yet spoken, rose and said, crying herself, - -"Don't cry, I'll go away myself, mother." - -But the old woman was up again in a moment. - -"No, thou'll not," she said. "Thou'll go up to thy bedroom in the -dairy loft--the one thou had in the innocent old times gone by. -Come, take my arm--my good arm, girl. Lean on me, woman-bogh." - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - -THE SOUL OF HAGAR - -Two hours had passed. Bessie was in her bedroom--the little one-eyed -chamber (entered from the first landing on the stairs) in which she -had dressed for Douglas. But the sheet of silvered glass on the -whitewashed wall which had shone then with the light of her beaming -eyes was now reflecting her broken, tear-stained, woebegone face. - -She knew that her journey had been in vain, that her sufferings had -been wasted. Her child was not to be stillborn. Through the closed -door she heard Dan Baldromma going off in the stiff cart. He was -going to the Speaker, to threaten him with the shame of her unborn -child, and to call upon him to compel his son to marry her. - -Wild, blind error! But what would be the result? Alick would hear -of her whereabouts and learn of her condition and that would be the -end of everything between them. All her secret scheme to wipe out -her fault, to keep her name clean for Alick, to preserve his -beautiful faith in her, would be destroyed, and he would be dead to -her for ever. - -But no, come what would that should not be! And if the only way to -prevent it was to make away with her child when it came she must do -so. Only nobody must know--not even her mother. - -Time and again the old woman came hobbling upstairs, bringing food -and trying to comfort her. - -"Will I send for Doctor Clucas, Bessie?" - -"No, no. I shall be better in the morning." - -The day passed heavily. She could not lie down. Sometimes she sat -on the edge of the bed; sometimes stood and held on to the end of it; -and sometimes walked to and fro in the narrow space of her bedroom -floor. Having no window in her room her only sight of the world -without was through the skylight in the thatch, which showed nothing -but the sky. The only sound that reached her was the squealing of a -pig that was being killed at a neighbouring farm. - -At length darkness fell. Hitherto she had been thinking of her -unborn child with a certain tenderness, even a certain pity. But -now, in the wild disorder of her senses, she began to hate it. It -seemed to be some evil spirit that was coming into the world to -destroy everybody. Why shouldn't she kill it? She would! Only she -must be alone--quite alone. - -Shivering, perspiring, weak, dizzy, she was sitting in the darkness -when her mother came to say good-night. - -"Here are a few broth. Take them. They'll warm thee." - -"No, no." - -"Come, let me coax thee, bogh." - -Bessie refused again, and the old woman's eyes began to fill. - -"Will I stay up the night with thee, Bessie?" - -"Oh, no, no!" - -"I'll leave my door open then, and if thou art wanting anything -thou'll call." - -"Yes, yes." - -"Thy father isn't home yet, and if thou'rt no better when he goes by -thy door thou must tell him and he'll let me know." - -Bessie raised her eyes in astonishment, and the old woman, with a -shamefaced look, began to apologize for her husband. He was not so -bad after all, and when a woman had taken a man for better or -worse.... - -"Do you say that, mother?" - -Something quivered in the old woman's wrinkled throat. - -"Well, we women are all alike, thou knows." - -"Good-night and go to sleep, mother." - -Bessie hustled her mother out of the room, but hardly had she gone -than she wanted to call her back. - -"Mother! Mother!" she cried in the sudden access of her pain, but -though her door was ajar her mother, who was going deaf, did not hear -her. - -At the next moment she was glad. Her mother believed in God and -religion. To burden her conscience with any knowledge of what she -meant to do would be too cruel. - -But Bessie's terror increased at every moment. The night outside was -quiet, yet the air seemed to be full of fearful cries. At the -bidding of some instinctive impulse she blew out the candle, and -then, in the darkness and solitude, a great terror took hold of her. - -"Alick! Alick!" she cried, but only the deep night heard her. At -last, in the paroxysm of her pain, she fell back on the bed--she was -unconscious. - -When she came to herself again she had a sense of blessed ease, like -that of sailing into a quiet harbour out of a tempestuous sea. -Before she opened her eyes she heard a faint cry. She thought at -first it was only a memory of the bleating of the lost lamb on the -mountains. But the cry came again and then she knew what had -happened--her child had been born! - -Time passed--how long or what she did in it, she never afterwards -knew. Her weakness seemed to have gone and she had a feeling of -surprising strength. The bitterness of her heart had gone too, and a -flood of happiness was sweeping over her. - -It was motherhood! To Bessie too, in her misery and shame, the -merciful angel of mother-love had come. Her child! Hers! Hers! -Make away with it? Kill it? No, not for worlds of worlds! - -It was a boy too! Thank God it was a boy! A woman was so weak; she -had so much to suffer, so many things to think about. But a man was -strong and free. He could fight his own way in life. And her boy -would fight for her also, and make amends for all she had gone -through. - -It was the middle of the night. The glimmering and guttering candle -on the wash-table (she had been up and had lit it afresh) was casting -dark shadows in the room. Only a little dairy loft with the turfy -thatch overhead, and the sheepskin rugs underfoot, but oh, how it -shone with glory! - -Bessie was singing to her baby (words and tune springing to her mind -in a moment) when suddenly she heard sounds from outside. They were -the rattle of cart wheels and the clatter of horse's hoofs on the -cobbles of the "street." - -Dan Baldromma had come home! - -Her heart seemed to stop its beating. She blew out her candle and -listened, scarcely drawing breath. She heard her step-father tipping -up his stiff-cart and then shouting at his horse as he dragged off -its harness in the stable. After that she heard him coming into the -house and throwing his heavy boots on to the hearthstone. Then she -heard the thud, thud, thud of the old man's stockinged feet on the -kitchen floor--he was about to come upstairs. - -At that moment the child, who had been asleep on her arm, awoke and -cried. Only a feeble cry, half-smothered by the closeness of the -little mouth to her breast, but in Bessie's ears it sounded like -thunder. If her step-father heard it, what would he do? -Involuntarily, and before she knew what she was doing, she put her -hand over the child's mouth. - -Then thud, thud, thud! Dan Baldromma was coming upstairs. Bessie -could hear his thick breathing. He had reached the landing. He -seemed to stop for a moment outside her door. But he passed on, went -up the second short flight, pushed open the door of her mother's room -and clashed it noisily behind him. - -Then Bessie drew breath and turned back to her child. She was -shocked to find that in her terror she had been holding her trembling -hand tightly down on the child's mouth. It had only been for a -moment (what had seemed like a moment), but when she took her hand -away and listened, in the throbbing darkness, for the child's soft -breathing, no sound seemed to come. - -With shaking fingers she lit her candle again, and then held the -light to the baby's face. - -The little, helpless, innocent face lay still. - -"Can it be possible .... no, no, God forbid it!" - -But at length the awful truth came surging down on her. She had -killed her child. - - - -II - -When Bessie awoke the next day the sun was shining on her eye-lids -from the skylight in the thatch. She had some difficulty in -realising where she was. Before opening her eyes she heard the -muffled lowing of the cows in the closed-up cow-house, and had an -impulse to do as she had done in earlier days--get up and milk them. -At the next moment she heard her mother's shuffling step on the -kitchen floor, and then the tide of memory swept back on her. - -But she was a different woman this morning. She had no remorse now, -no qualm, no compunction. What she had done, she had done, and after -all it was the best thing that could have happened--best for her, -best for Alick, best for everybody. - -Her child being dead she no longer loved it. All she had to do was -to bury it away somewhere, and then everything would go on as she had -intended. Meantime (before going to sleep) she had taken her -precautions. Nobody must know. If there had been reasons why she -should not take her mother into her confidence last night they were -now increased tenfold. - -After a while her mother came up with her breakfast. A veil seemed -to dim the old woman's eyes--she looked as if she had been crying. - -"How are thou now, bogh?" - -"Better! Much better! I told you I should be better in the morning." - -The old woman was silent for a moment and then said, - -"Thou were not up and downstairs in the night, Bessie?" - -"'Deed no! Why should you think so?" - -"Because I shut the wash-house door when I went to bed and it was -open when I came down in the morning." - -Bessie's lips trembled, but she made no answer. - -A little later she heard her step-father talking loudly in the -kitchen. He had seen the Speaker, having waited all day for him. -There had been a stormy scene. The big man had foamed at the mouth, -talked about blackmail, threatened to turn him out of the farm at -Hollantide, and finally shouted for Tom Kertnode, his steward, to -fling him into the road. - -"I lave it with you, Sir," Dan had answered. "If you prefer the new -Dempster, when he comes, to see justice done to the girl, it's all as -one to me." - -Bessie could have laughed. Wicked, selfish, scheming--how she was -going to defeat it! - -All morning she lay quiet, thinking out her plans. Half a mile up -the glen there was a large stone of irregular shape, surrounded by a -wild tangle of briar and gorse. The Manx called it the -_Claghny-Dooiney-marroo_--the dead man's stone, the body of a -murdered man having been found on it. By reason of this gruesome -association of the bloody hand upon it, few approached the stone by -day and the bravest man (unless he were in drink) would hesitate to -go near it by night. - -Bessie decided to bury her child under the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_. It -would lie hidden for ever there; nobody would find it. - -The day was long in passing, for Bessie was waiting for the night. -She heard the young lambs bleating in the fields and the cocks -crowing in the haggard. A linnet perched on the ledge of her -skylight (her mother had opened it) and looked in on her and sang. - -At length the sky darkened and night fell. The moon (it was in its -first quarter) sailed across her patch of sky and disappeared. Once -or twice the skylight was aglow with a palpitating red light--someone -was burning gorse on the mountains. But the fires died down and then -there was nothing save the sky with its stars. - -Her mother came again to say good-night. She had the pitiful look of -a woman who was struggling to keep back her tears. - -"Wilt thou not sit up, Bessie, while I make thy bed for thee?" - -Bessie started and then stammered: "Oh, no! I mean .... it will do -in the morning." - -The old woman looked down at her with eyes which seemed to say, "Can -thou not trust thy mother, girl?" But she only sighed and went off -to bed. - -Somewhere in the early morning (Dan having gone to bed also) Bessie -got up to make ready. She found herself very weak, and it took her a -long time to dress. When she was about to put on her shoes she -remembered that they were new and told herself they would creak as -she went downstairs, so she decided to go barefoot again. - -Having finished her dressing she took from under the bed-clothes what -she had hidden there, and began to wrap it in a large silk scarf. It -was the scarf she had worn in the storm--a present from Alick; with -"Bessie" stamped on one corner. - -Seeing her name at the last moment, she tore a strip of the scarf -away, and threw it aside (intending to destroy it in the morning), -opened her door, listened for an instant and then crept downstairs -and out of the house. - -The night was chill and the ground struck cold into her body. It was -very dark, for the moon and stars had gone out, and there was no -light anywhere except the dull red of the gorse fires on the -mountains, which had sunk so low as to look like a dying eye. But -Bessie could have found her way blindfolded. - -Carrying her burden she crossed the wooden bridge and reached the -path that went up the glen. Just as she did so she heard the sound -of singing, of laughter and of carriage-wheels on the high road. A -company of jolly girls and boys were driving home after one of their -Bachelor Balls in a neighbouring parish. That cut deep, but Bessie -thought of Alick and the wound passed away. She would return to him -in a few days; they would be married soon, and then she, too, would -be glad and happy. - -How dark it was under the trees, though! She had left it late. The -dawn was near, for the first birds were beginning to call. - -"It must be here," she thought, and she slipped down from the path to -the bed of the glen. - -But the trees were thicker there, and, being already in early leaf, -they obscured the little light that was left in the sky. Where could -the stone be? The briars were tearing at her dress and the tall -nettles were stinging her hands. She was feeling weak and lost and -had begun to cry. How the dogs howled at her stepfather's farm! - -Suddenly a breeze rose and fanned the gorse fires on the mountains to -a crackling glow. And then a red flame rent the darkness and lighted -up the valley from end to end, making it for a few moments almost as -clear as day. - -Bessie was terrified. Here was the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_ almost at her -feet, but this bright light was like an accusing eye from heaven -looking down on her and pointing her out. - -For a moment she wanted to drop down among the briars and hide -herself. But making a call on her resolution she crept up to the big -stone, stooped, pushed her burden under the overlapping lip of it, -and then rose, turned about and ran. - -Trembling and weeping she stumbled her way home. It was lighter now. -The day was coming rapidly and the small spring leaves were shivering -in the cold wind that runs over the earth before the dawn. The lambs -were bleating in the unseen fields, and the newly-born ones were -making their first pitiful cry. It sounded like the cry of her child -as she had heard it last night, and it tore her terribly. - -The little face, the little hands, the little feet she had left -behind--why had she not been brave and strong and faced the world -with them? - -Should she stop and go back! She tried to do so but could not. The -more she wanted to return the faster she ran away. - -Her strength was failing her, and she was scarcely able to put one -foot before another. Often she stumbled and fell and got up again. -Was she going the right way home? - -"Alick! Alick!" she cried, and the hot tears fell over her cold -cheeks. - -At last she saw the dark roof of the mill-house against the leaden -grey of the sky. She had reached the bridge over the millrace when -she felt a light on her face and saw a figure approaching her. -Somebody was coming up the glen and the lantern he carried was -swinging by his side as he walked. - -Then the instinct of self-preservation took possession of her. -Dizzy, dazed, breathing rapidly and trembling in every limb, she -crossed the bridge quickly, crept up to the door of the dwelling -house, stumbled upstairs to her room, tore off her outer garments, -dropped back on to her bed, and then fell (almost in a moment) into -the sleep of utter exhaustion. - - - -III - -Bridget Skillicorne had had a cow sick that night. It had been -suffering from a colic, probably due to grazing among the rank grass -which had been lying under the water that had been drained away. But -Bridget was sure that "that dirt Baldromma" had "wutched" it -(bewitched it) just to spite her for what she had said. - -She had tried a hot bran mash in vain. The cow still writhed and -roared, so nothing remained, if they were not to lose their creature, -but that Will should go to the Ballawhaine (a witch-doctor who lived -nine or ten miles away on the seaward side of the Curragh) and get a -charm to take off the witching. - -Old Will, being a class-leader, was well aware that such sorcery was -the arts of Satan. But if the cow died it would make a big hole in -their stocking-purse to buy another, so his conscience compounded -with his pocket, and he agreed to go. - -"Aw well, a few good words will do no harm at all," he said, and -carrying his stable lantern he set out towards nine o'clock on his -long journey. - -Then Bridget, taking another lantern, a half-knitted stocking and a -three-legged stool, went into the cow-house to sit up with her cow -and watch the progress of its malady. - -Towards midnight the creature became easier, and, gathering her legs -under her, lay down to sleep. But Bridget remained three hours -longer in the close atmosphere of the cow-house, waiting for old Will -but thinking of Dan, and making her needles go with a furious click -at the thought of his threat to evict her. - -The upper half of the cow-house door stood open, and somewhere in the -dark hours towards dawn she was startled by a bright light and the -hissing and crackling of a sudden fire outside. She knew what it was -(such fires on the mountains were not uncommon), but nevertheless she -stepped out to see. - -She saw more than she had expected. In the glen below her brew, -where every bush and tree stood out for a moment in the flare of the -burning gorse, she saw the figure of a woman. The woman was standing -by the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_. She had something white under her arm. -After a moment she knelt, put her parcel under the lip of the stone -and then hurried away. - -Who was she? In her present mood, with her mind running on one -subject, Bridget could have no uncertainty. It was the Collister -girl! It must be! What had she been doing down there? In her own -walk through life Bridget had never stepped aside, therefore she was -severe on those who had. There was only one thing that could bring a -girl out of bed in the middle of the night to a place like that. The -slut! The strumpet! - -When Will Skillicorne reached home half-an-hour afterwards he was -carrying a wisp of straw. With this he was to make the sign of the -cross on the back of the sick cow, and say some good words about St. -Patrick and St. Bridget, giving it at the same time a hot drink of -meal and water. - -"But the craythur is better these three hours," said Bridget. - -"Praise the Lord!" said Will. "That must have been the very minute -the good man came down from his bed to me in his flannel drawers!" - -"But did thou meet anybody as thou was coming up the glen?" - -"Maybe I did." - -"Was it a woman?" - -"It's like it was, now." - -"Did she go into the mill-house?" - -"I believe in my heart she did, though." - -Bridget was triumphant. - -It was the Collister girl! There could not be a doubt about it. And -at break of day she would go down to the glen and see what she had -left under the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_. - -"Show me the road at Hollantide, will he? The dirt! The dirty black -toad! We'll see! We'll see!" - - - -IV - -Bessie's sleep of exhaustion deepened to delirium and for a long day -she lay in the grip of it. When she floated out of her -unconsciousness, she had a sense of confusion. A babel of -meaningless voices, like the many sounds of a wild night, were -clashing in her brain. A man and a woman were in her bedroom, -talking like somnambulists. - -"Her feet have been bleeding. Where has she been, think you?" - -The man's voice must be that of Doctor Clucas, and then came some -vague answer in the woman's voice, with a thick snuffle and a -suppressed sob--her mother's. - -Bessie heard no more. A cloud passed over her brain that was like -the rolling mist that alternately reveals and conceals a bell-buoy at -sea. When it cleared she heard a strange woman's voice outside the -house--her bedroom door had been left open that her mother might hear -her if she called. - -"I didn't know thy daughter had come home, Liza Collister." - -"And how dost thou know now, Bridget Skillicorne?" - -"How? There's someones coming will tell thee how, woman." - -Bessie felt as if somebody had struck her in the face. Had anything -become known? Later she heard her step-father speaking in the -kitchen. - -"Is she herself yet." - -"Not yet." - -"Better she never should be." - -"Sakes alive, man, what art thou saying?" - -"I'm saying that old trollop on the brews is after finding something -under the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_ and sending her man to the police to -fetch it." - -"Fetch what?" - -"Just a parcel in a silk scarf with a lil arm sticking out--that's -all, ma'am." - -The doctor at the hospital had been holding a post-mortem, and now -Cain, the constable, was to make a house to house visitation of the -parish to find the mother of the child. - -Bessie covered her mouth to suppress a scream. But something -whispered, "Hush! Keep still! They know nothing!" - -Early next day she was awakened by the sound of many men's voices -downstairs, and her mother's voice in angry protestation. - -"I tell thee, I know nothing about it. The girl came home to me -three days ago, and I put her to bed, and she has never since been -out of it." - -"They all say that, ma'am," said one of the men. It was Cain, the -constable. - -A little later, while Bessie lay with closed eyes and her face to the -wall, she became aware of several persons in her bedroom, and one of -them leaning over her. She knew it was Cain--she could hear his -asthmatical breathing. - -"Is she really unconscious, doctor?" - -"Undoubtedly she is. You can leave her for a few days anyway. -She'll not run away, you see." - -After that, listening intently, Bessie heard the constable ranging -the room as if examining everything. - -"What's this?" he asked. - -Bessie drew a quick breath, but dared not look around. - -"Only a remnant seemingly," said the doctor. - -"We'll be taking it with us, though," said the constable, and then -the rolling mist of unconsciousness covered everything again. - -When it passed Bessie knew that the police were suspecting her. They -thought they had found her out, and they were going to bring the -whole machinery of the law to punish her. What a wicked thing the -law was! She had injured nobody--nobody that anybody had ever seen -in this world. She had only tried to save somebody she loved from -shame and pain. And yet the constables, the courts and the coroners -were all in a conspiracy to crush one poor girl! No matter! She -would deny everything. - -Next day was Sunday. Bessie heard the church bells ringing across -the Curragh, and, before they stopped, the singing of a hymn. The -Primitives were holding a service at the corner of the high road -before going into their chapel. After the hymn somebody prayed. It -was Will Skillicorne. Bessie (listening through her open skylight) -recognised the high pitch of his preaching voice. He would be -standing on the chapel steps. - -There was a great deal about "carnal transgression," about "brands -plucked from the burning," about "the judgments of the Lord," and -finally about the "conscious sinner," throwing herself upon her -Saviour and repenting of "the sin she had committed against God." At -the close of his prayer Will gave out the first two lines of another -hymn-- - - "_I was a wandering sheep, - I did not love the fold._" - - -Bessie knew whom all this was meant for. The Primitives were -torturing her. But they were torturing somebody else as well. -Through the singing and praying she heard her mother's sighs -downstairs, and the beating of her foot on the hearthstone, as she -sat by the fire and listened to the service for her guilty child. - -What a cowardly thing religion was! Sin? What sin had she -committed? She had never intended to do wrong, and only those who -had gone through it could know what she had suffered. Anyway, such -as she was God had made her. She would admit nothing. Nothing -whatever. - -Two days passed. Bessie's heart softened and became calm. The -police were leaving her alone--they must have given up that nonsense -about punishing her. Everything was going to turn out as she had -expected. - -On the third day, her mother, coming into her bedroom, found her with -widely-opened eyes and all her face a smile. Yes, she was herself -once more. In fact there had not been much amiss with her. Only, -never having been ill before, she had been frightened and had come -home to be nursed by her mother. But now she was better and must -soon go back .... back to where she came from. - -She told her mother about Alick and how fond he was of her--parting -from his father and sisters and even his mother for her sake. It was -quite a mistake to suppose that Alick had refused to marry her. He -would have married her long ago, and it was she who had been holding -back. Why? She wished to be strong and well first. It wasn't fair -to a man to let him marry a sick wife--was it? - -The old woman, with a broken face, looking sadly down at the girl, -said, "Yes, bogh! It's like it isn't, bogh," and turned her eyes -away. - -On the fourth day Bessie got out of bed and moved about the room just -to show how strong she was. - -"See what a step I have now. I could walk miles and miles, mother." - -The moral of that was that she must go back to Derby Haven without -more delay. Alick was waiting for her and he would be growing -anxious. She must take the first train in the morning. - -"It's rather early, but never mind about breakfast. A cup of tea and -a piece of barley bonnag--that will do." - -Late that night, when Mrs. Collister, going to bed with a heavy -heart, looked in to say good-night, Bessie asked to be called in good -time in the morning. - -"Don't forget to waken me. I used to be the first up, you know, but -now I'm a sleepy-head." - -And then she kissed her mother (never having kissed her since she was -a child) and the old woman's eyes overflowed. - -Left alone, in the dark, she began to think how good God had been to -her after all. Only those who had sinned and suffered knew how good -He could be. She remembered the text about the friend who, when all -earthly friends forsake you, sticketh closer than a brother. Also, -with a certain shame, she recalled the hymn the Primitives had sung -on Sunday morning, and, covering her head in the bedclothes, she sang -two lines of it-- - - "_But now I love my Father's voice, - I love my Father's home._" - - -How happy she was! At that time to-morrow she would be in bed at -Derby Haven, having seen Alick and arranged everything. - -Next morning, when she awoke, she was startled to find the sun -pouring into the room. She knew by the line it made on the wall that -the first train must have gone. The chickens, too, were clucking at -the kitchen door, and they never came round before breakfast. - -She had risen on her elbow intending to call, when she heard the roll -of a van-like vehicle drawing up in front of the house, and -immediately afterwards, a man's husky, asthmatical voice in the -kitchen, mingling with her mother's shrill treble. - -"Go upstairs and tell her to make ready, ma'am." - -"No, no; the girl's not fit for it, I tell thee." - -"She's fit enough for the prison hospital, anyway." - -"She has never been out of my door since she came into it." - -"We'll lave that to the High Bailiff and the Dempster, if you plaze." - -Bessie, supporting herself on her trembling arm, could scarcely -restrain herself from screaming. One moment she sat and gasped, and -then, grasping her head with both hands, she turned about and fell -forward and buried her face in her pillow. - -At the next moment she was conscious of somebody coming into her -room, and at the next, from somewhere at the foot of the bed, she -heard her mother say, in a strange voice she had never known -before--throbbing, choking, scarcely audible-- - -"They have come for thee, Bessie." - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - -STOWELL IN LONDON - -Victor Stowell had been more than a week in London. Fortune had -favoured him from the first. The Home Secretary (a tall, spare, -elderly man, with a clean-shaven face of rather severe expression) -rose when Stowell entered his room as if a spirit had appeared before -him. "My youth again," the young man thought, but it was a different -matter this time. - -"Has anybody ever told you that you resemble your father, Mr. -Stowell?" - -It turned out that the old Deemster and the Home Secretary (a -barrister before he became a statesman) had been in chambers together -in the Middle Temple while reading for the bar, and that the -politician had never lost respect for the man who, in spite of -brilliant promise of success in England (he might have become an -English High Court Judge with six times his Manx salary), had -returned to the obscurity of his little island and the service of his -own people. - -"You have high traditions to live up to, young man. Sit down." - -Then came the subject of the interview. The authorities had -satisfied themselves that on the score of legal capacity the -Governor's recommendation was not unjustified. The only serious -difficulty was Stowell's youth. The principles on which the Crown -selected elderly and even old (sometimes very old) men for the -positions of Judges were simple and sound. First, seniority of -service, and next, maturity of character, so as to avoid the dangers -that come from the temptations, the trials, even the turbulent -emotions of early life, which might easily conflict with the calm of -the judicial office. Still, these principles could be too rigidly -followed--particularly in remote colonies and small dependencies -where the range of suitable selection was limited. - -After this came a personal catechism, the old man looking at the -young one over the rims of his tortoise-shell spectacles. Married? -Not yet. Expect to be? Yes, Sir. Soon? Not, not for a long time. -How long? Six weeks at least, Sir. - -The ends of the severe mouth rose perceptibly, and in any other face -they might have broken into a smile. - -Daughter of the Governor, isn't she? Yes, but that isn't her chief -characteristic, Sir. What is? That she is the loveliest and noblest -woman in the world. - -"Oh!" - -Again the severe mouth relaxed, and the Home Secretary asked Stowell -where he was staying. Stowell told him (the Inns of Court Hotel, -Holborn) and he made a note of it. - -"Remain there until you hear from me again, Mr. Stowell, and meantime -say nothing about this interview to anybody." - -"Not anybody whatever, Sir?" - -The Home Secretary's stern old face became genial and charming as he -rose and held out his hand. - -"Well, that supreme being, perhaps .... Good day!" - - -"So here I am, my dear Fenella," wrote Stowell, "back in the bedroom -of my hotel, telling you all about it. How long I may have to remain -in London, goodness knows, therefore I propose to tell you something -about my ways of life while I wait. - -"Such a change in me! When I was in London last (with Alick Gell, -you remember) I spent my days and nights in the hotels, restaurants, -theatres and music-halls that are the lovely and beloved world of -woman. It is the world of woman still, but quite another realm of it. - -"Two nights ago I strolled westward along Oxford Street, and thought -(with a lump in my throat) about De Quincey and his Ann. Then, -cutting through Clare Market to the Temple and finding the gate -closed, I tipped the porter to let me walk through the Brick Court, -and stood a long half hour before a house in the silent little -square, thinking of the day when the women of the town sat on the -stairs while poor Noll (Oliver Goldsmith) lay dead in his rooms -above. And then, coming out into Fleet-street (midnight now) where -the big printing presses were throbbing behind dark buildings, I -tried to think I saw the great old Johnson, God bless him, picking up -the prostitute from the pavement, carrying her home on his back and -laying her on his bed. - -"Last night I strolled eastward to look at the outside of the -Settlement in which you used to be Lady Warden (in the unbelievable -days before you came back to Man), and returning by a dark side -street, I came upon a queue of women crouching in the cold before the -doors of a Salvation Shelter. They were waiting for four in the -morning when they would have a fighting chance of one of the beds -(_i.e._, boxes like open coffins lying cheek by jowl on the floor of -a big hall) after the washerwomen who were then asleep in them would -get up and go to work. - -"But the climax came this morning (Sunday morning) when I went to -service at the Foundling Hospital. Such a sweet scene--at first -sight at all events. The little women, like little nuns, in their -linen caps and aprons, singing like little angels in their sweet -young voices. But my God, what tragedy lurked behind that picture -also! - -"I did not hear much of the sermon for thinking of the mothers of -these 'children of shame' and the conditions under which they must -have given birth to them--sometimes in a garret, in secret, alone, -driven to dementia by a sense of impending shame. How often a poor -miserable girl in the degradation of childbirth (which should be the -crown of a woman's glory) must have been tempted to kill her child in -fear of the fate that awaited both it and her! And to think of the -giant arm of the mighty law coming down on a creature like that to -punish her! Lord, what crimes are committed in the name of Justice! - -"There you are now! That's what you've done for me. 'Deed you have -though. It's truth enough, girl. You've opened my ears to the cry -of the voice of suffering woman, and that is the saddest sound, -perhaps, that breaks on the shores of life. And the moral of it all -is that if I do become a Judge (God knows I'm almost afraid to hope -for it) you must be my helper, my inspirer, the tower of my strength. - -"Oh, my darling, how much I love you! It seems to me that I lost all -my life until I came to love you. How well I recall the blessed day -when I loved you first! It was the first time I saw you--the first -time really. Don't you remember? In the glen, that glorious autumn -afternoon. The vision has followed me ever since and I wish I could -blot out every day of my life when I have not thought of you. - -"There you are again! You see what you've done, ma'am. But I'm not -always on the heights. What do you think? I've bought a motor car, -and every morning I go up to Hampstead with a teacher to learn to -drive. - -"It is for our honeymoon. You called me a Viking once, and I'm not -going to be a Viking for nothing. As soon as you are mine, mine -wholly, I am going to pick you up and carry you off to all the -inaccessible places in the island--the bent-strewn plains of Ayre, -where a lighthouse-man lives alone with his wife and nothing else -save the sea for company; the shepherd's hut on Snaefell, where there -is nothing but the sky, and the sandy headlands of the Calf with the -mists of the Atlantic sweeping over them. - -"Meantime, think of me in a box of a bedroom five storeys up, with -the roaring tide of London traffic running, like a Canadian river, -sixty feet below, and write--write, write! Tell me what is happening -in the 'lil islan'' which is lying asleep to-night in the Irish Sea. -God bless it, and all the kind and cheery souls in it! God bless it -for evermore! - -"STOWELL." - - - -II - -"MY DEAR VICTOR,--You cannot imagine what a joy your letter was. Do -you know it was my first love-letter? Of course I behaved like a -dairymaid--took it up to bed, put it on my pillow and said, 'You are -Victor, you know,' and laid my cheek on it. - -"Whatever have you done to make me so foolish? Was it only half of -you (the physical half) that went away, leaving the spirit half with -me? I want the other half, though, the substantial half, so tell -your Home Secretary (I like him) to hurry up and send you home. - -"You do wrong not to see the beautiful women, dear. The woman who is -afraid of her husband looking at other women is building her house on -the sand. I should like to say to myself, 'He has seen the loveliest -women in the world, yet he comes back to me.' - -"All the same I love you for looking at the darker side of woman's -life. It is more apparent in the greater communities, but it is -here, too, and that is why I am looking eagerly forward to your -appointment as Deemster, which will make you a creator of the law as -well as an administrator of it. You must have no misgivings, though. -Why should you? A man who has a stainless scutcheon is just what -women want for their champion. And if I may help you how happy I -shall be! - -"You ask what is happening in the island. Well, apart from politics -(of which I know nothing except that they seem to be always the same -story) the only thing of consequence is the case of a young woman -charged with the murder of her illegitimate child. - -"She is a country girl who, having run away from home some months -ago, returned recently very ill and was put to bed, and remained -there until arrested. But in the meantime the body of a new-born -infant was found under a large stone half a mile away, and it is said -to have been hers. - -"She denies all knowledge of the child, but the medical testimony -seems to be sadly against her, and there is some direct evidence -also, though it is not above the suspicion of being tainted by malice. - -"She has been up before the High Bailiff and committed to the next -sitting of the General Gaol Delivery, so you are likely to hear more -of the case. Poor thing, whatever her sin, she has already had a -fearful punishment, for she is very ill, having apparently exposed -herself to dreadful sufferings in the hope of preventing her baby -from being born alive. - -"She is now in the prison hospital, and this morning I drove over to -see her. A good-looking girl, almost beautiful (with the sort of -beauty which attracts the less worthy side of a certain type of man), -but her cheeks are now terribly thin and pale, and her big black eyes -(her finest feature) have that wild look which one sees in a captured -animal that gazes and gazes. - -"I liked the girl, but she did not seem to like me. In fact she -shrank from me (the only girl who ever did so) and when I tried to be -nice to her, and asked her to trust me, and to tell me who was -responsible for her condition, so that I might find him and fetch him -to her, she broke into a flood of fierce denial. - -"Either the girl is a great story-teller or she is a great heroine, -and I am half inclined to think she may be both. My guess would be -that she is trying to shield the guilty man. The clothes she had -worn were better than a farm girl could afford to buy, and that -suggests that her fellow-sinner belongs to a class above her. - -"Isn't it shocking that the law provides no punishment for the man -who ruins a girl's life--ruining her soul at the same time, for that -is what it often comes to. But, please God, you will be on the -bench, so she is sure to have justice. - -"Our Society has decided to undertake her defence, but we are at a -loss whom to employ. We cannot afford a high fee either--ten or -fifteen guineas at the outside. Can you suggest anybody? - -"I intend to be present at the trial, and to stand by the girl's -side, for she will have nobody else, poor creature. But oh, how I -wish I might plead for her! Although her fellow-sinner will not -stand for judgment, how I should like to tear the mask from his face -and cry in open court, 'Thou art the man!' - -"Good-night, dear! It's 10 p.m., and such delicious dreams are -waiting for me upstairs. Bring your motor-car back, and when the -time comes (I shall not keep you long) you may carry me off to -wherever you please. - -"Listen, I am going to say something. There is not much in the heart -of a woman that you don't know already, but I am about to let you -into a secret. The woman who does not want her husband (if only he -loves her) to control her, command her, and do anything and -everything he likes with her, isn't really a woman at all--she's only -a mistake for a man! - -"Victor, after that burst of nonsense I cannot conclude without -telling you again how much I love you. I love you for yourself, just -yourself alone, quite apart from anything you may do or have done, -whether good or bad, right or wrong, and I shall go on loving you -whatever may happen to you in the future, whether you become Deemster -or not, go up or go down. - -"But when I think of the life that is so surely before you, and that -I shall walk through it by your side, perfectly united with you, -sharing the same hopes and aims and desires, enjoying the same -sunshine and weathering the same storms, I have a vision of happiness -that makes me cry for joy. - -"Come back to me soon, dearest. The spring is here in all her -youthful beauty; the daffodils are nodding; the gorse on the hedges -is a blaze of gold; the sky is blue; the sea is lying asleep under a -divine shimmer of sunshine, and your island--your island that is -going to be so proud of you--is waiting to clasp you to her heart. - -"And so am I, my Victor! - -"FENELLA." - - - -III - -"MY OWN DEAR FENELLA,--I am so troubled about the young woman who is -to be charged with the murder of her child that (time being short) I -must write at once on the subject. It looks like a case of the -temporary mania which so often prompts women to take life (their own -or their children's) in the hope of avoiding shame. - -"God, when I think of it, that in all ages of the world tens of -thousands of women have gone through that fiery furnace and that -never one man since the days of Adam has come within sight of it, I -want to go down on my knees to the meanest and lowest of them as the -martyrs of humanity. - -"Infanticide is of course a serious crime in any country, and -especially serious in the Isle of Man now, when the Governor has made -up his mind to show no mercy to persons guilty of fatal violence. -But the killing of a new-born child is usually treated as felonious -homicide. Therefore, if you carry out your intention of standing by -the girl's side, you may safely tell her (in order to save her from -possible shock) that even a verdict of guilty will not mean death. - -"How I wish you could plead for the poor thing! But instruct counsel -for the defence and you will really be pleading, and I, for one, if I -am present, will hear your quivering voice in every word he says. - -"As for the choice of an Advocate--why not Alick Gell? He has not -had too many chances, poor chap, and it will hearten him (he was -rather down when I saw him last) to be entrusted with a serious case -like this. - -"Tell him to look up Galabin and Murrell on Forensic Medicine--he'll -find both in the Law Library. The first step is to make sure that -the poor creature (I assume she is not too well educated) has not -mistaken infanticide for concealment; and the next, to insist on -proof of 'a live birth,' which it is practically impossible to -establish (except on the girl's confession) in a case of solitary -delivery. - -"Yes, you are almost certainly right in thinking she is trying to -shield the guilty man, and, criminal though she is, she may be (as -you say) an absolute heroine. In that event I trust it may not fall -to my lot to try her. God save me from sitting in judgment on a -woman who stands silent in her shame to shield the honour of the man -she loves! - -"But as for hunting down the guilty man, that (don't you think so?) -is perhaps another matter. If it has to be done at all it is only a -woman--a pure and stainless woman--who has a right to do it. No man -who knows himself, and how near every mother's son of us has been to -the verge of the pit, will be the first to throw a stone. You -remember--'But for the grace of God there goes John Wesley.' Oh, my -darling, how can I ever be grateful enough for what you have done for -me.... - -* * * * * * * - -"Helloa! The page boy has just been up with a letter from the Home -Secretary. 'I have the pleasure to inform you that the King has been -pleased to approve of your appointment to the position of the -Deemster of the Isle of Man....' - -"How glorious! Here I have been all day saying to myself, 'Who, in -God's name, are you that you should be Judge over anybody?' and now -I'm glad--damned glad, there is no other word for it. - -"I shall telegraph the news to you in a few minutes, but I feel as if -I want to take the first boat home and become my own messenger. That -is impossible, for I have to call on the Lord Chancellor to-morrow -about my Commission. And then I have to see to the transport of my -car, and the purchase of my Judge's wig and gown. But wait, only -wait! Three days more I shall have you in my arms. - -"My respectful greetings to the Governor. Say I know how much I owe -to him for this unprecedented appointment. Say, too, I shall hold -myself in readiness for the ceremony of the swearing-in, whenever he -desires it to take place; also for the next Court of General Gaol -Delivery if Deemster Taubman is still down with his rheumatism. - -"And now bless you again, dearest, for all your beautiful faith in -me. God helping me, I'll do my best to deserve it. But you must be -my guardian watcher, my sentinel, my star. - -"What a dear old world it is, darling! It seems as if there ought to -be no suffering of any kind in it now--now that the sky is so bright -for you and me. - -"VICTOR." - -"P.S. _Important_. Don't forget to employ Gell in that case of the -girl who killed her baby. Alick's her man. _Mind you, though--he -must compel her to tell him everything._" - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - -ALICK GELL - -For ten days Alick Gell had been searching for Bessie Collister. -When he first read her letter on reaching Derby Haven (he read it a -hundred times afterwards) he remembered something his father had said -in taunting him--"You'll not be the first by a long way!" Then he -recalled the case of the Peel fisherman and a black thought came -hurtling down on him. At the next moment he hated himself for it. - -"What devil out of hell made me think of that?" he asked himself. - -But why had Bessie run away from him? The only explanation he could -find was the one Stowell had given on the steamboat--women had -illnesses which men knew nothing about, and in the throes of their -mania they sometimes hid themselves, like sick animals, from their -friends--most of all from those they loved. Were not the newspapers -full of such cases? - -"That's it! That's it! My poor girl!" - -Having arrived at this explanation of Bessie's flight, he had no -compunction about going in search of her. Her malady might be only -temporary, but, while it lasted, Heaven alone knew what dangers she -might expose herself to. - -At first it occurred to him to call in the assistance of the police. -But no, that would lead to publicity, and publicity to -misunderstanding. Bessie would get better; he must keep her name -clear of scandal. His voice shook and his lip trembled as he told -the Misses Brown to say nothing to anybody. His warning was -unnecessary. The terrified old maids, who had at length begun to -scent the truth, had decided to keep their own counsel. - -Within half an hour Alick was on the road. He had no doubt of -overtaking Bessie--she was only half an hour gone. But which way -would she go? It was easier to say which way she would not go. She -would not go to the north of the island where she would be known to -nearly everybody. Above all, she would not go home--the home of Dan -Baldromma. - -All that day he wandered through Castletown--every street and alley. -At nightfall he was back at Derby Haven. Had Bessie returned? No! -Had anything been heard of her? Nothing! - -Next day he set out on a wider journey--all the towns and villages of -the south, Port St. Mary, Port Erin, Fleswick, Ballasalla, Colby, -Ballabeg and Cregneash. He walked from daylight to dark, and asked -no questions, but at every open door he paused and listened. When he -saw a farm-house that stood back from the high road he made excuse to -go up to it--a drink of milk or water. - -Day followed day without result. His heart was sinking. More than -once he met somebody whom he knew and had to make excuse for his -rambling. Wonderful what a walking tour did to blow the cobwebs from -a fellow's brain after he had been shut up too long in an office! -His friends looked after him with a strange expression. He had been -something of a dandy, but his hair was uncombed and his linen was -becoming soiled and even dirty. - -At length he became a prey to illusions. He always slept in the last -house he came to, and one night, in a fisherman's cottage near -Fleswick, he was awakened by the wind blowing over the thatch. He -thought it sounded like the voice of Bessie, and that she was -wandering over the highway in the darkness, alone and distraught. - -Next day he began to inquire if anything had been seen of such a -person. He was told of a young woman who, found walking barefoot on -the lonely road to Dreamlang, had been taken to the asylum, and he -hurried there to inquire. No, it was not Bessie. Some poor young -wife who (only six months married and beginning to be happy in the -prospect of a child) had lost her husband in an accident at the mines -at Foxdale. - -The dread of suicide took hold of him. One day a fish-cadger on the -road told him that a young woman's body had been washed ashore at -Peel. Again it was nothing--nothing to him. The wife of the captain -of a Norwegian schooner which had been wrecked off Contrary--with her -eyes open and her baby locked in her rigid arms. - -Alick's heart was failing him. Do what he would to keep down evil -thoughts they were getting the better of him. Sometimes he rested on -the seat that usually stands outside the whitewashed porch of a Manx -cottage, and although he thought he said so little he found that the -women (especially such of them as were mothers of grown-up girls) -seemed to divine the object of his journey. - -"Aw, yes, that's the way with them, the boghs, especially when -there's a man bothering them. Was there any man, now...." - -But Alick was up and gone before they could finish their question. - -Thus ten days passed. Absorbed in his search, perplexed and -tortured, he had seen no newspaper and heard nothing of what was -happening in the island. Suddenly it occurred to him that Bessie -could not have left him so long without news of her. She could not -be so cruel; she must have written, and her letter must be lying at -his office. - -People who knew him, and saw him return to Douglas, could scarcely -recognise him in the pale, unwashed, unshaven man who climbed the -steps from the station, looking like a drunkard who had been sleeping -out in the fields. - -His chambers, when he turned the key (he had no clerk now), were -stuffy and cheerless. The ashes of his last fire were on the hearth, -and his desk was covered with dust. Behind the door (he had no -letter-box) a number of circulars and bills lay on the ground, but, -running his trembling fingers through them, he found no letter from -Bessie. - -There was a large and bulky envelope, though, with the seal of -Government House, and marked "Immediate." What could it be? On the -top of a thick body of folio paper he found a letter. It was from -Fenella Stanley. - - - "DEAR MR. GELL,--At the suggestion of Mr. Stowell, who is still - in London, I am writing on behalf of the Women's Protection - League, to ask you if you can undertake the defence of the young - woman in the north of the island who is to be charged with the - murder of her new-born child." - - -Alick paused a moment to draw breath. - - - "You will see by the report of the High Bailiff's inquiry and the - copy of the Depositions which I enclose that the girl denies - everything, and that her mother supports her, but the evidence is - only too sadly against her--particularly that of the doctors and - of two neighbours who live higher up the glen." - - -Alick felt his heart stop and his whole body grew cold. - - - "Her step-father...." - - -The letter almost dropped from his fingers. - - - "Her step-father has not been asked by the prosecution to depose, - and it is doubtful if the defence ought to call him." - - -He was becoming dizzy. The lines of the letter were running into -each other. - - - "Innocent or guilty, the girl has suffered terribly. She has - been several days in hospital at Ramsey, but she was to be - removed to Castle Rushen this morning. Her case is to come on - next week at the Court of General Gaol Delivery, so perhaps you - will send me a telegram immediately saying if you can take up the - defence. - - "As you see the poor creature is herself an illegitimate - child--the name by which she is commonly known being Bessie - Collister." - - -Alick shrieked. He had seen the blow coming, but when it came it -fell on him like a thunderbolt. - -It was all a lie--a damned lie! Nobody would make him believe it. -Bessie arrested for the murder of her child! She had never had a -child. - -He leapt to his feet and tramped the room on stiffened limbs and with -a heart throbbing with anger. Then, half afraid, but doing his best -to compose himself, he took the report and the Depositions out of the -big envelope, and, sitting before the dead hearth with his shaking -feet on the fender, and holding the folio pages in his dead-cold -hands, he read the evidence. - -As he did so he shrieked again, but this time with laughter. What a -tissue of manifest lies! The Skillicornes and their quarrel with Dan -Baldromma--what a malicious conspiracy! Lord, what blind fools the -police could be! And the Attorney, had he come to his second -childhood? - -Again and again Alick thumped the desk with his fist and filled the -air of the room with the dust that rose in the sunshine which was now -pouring through the windows. - -There was a photograph of Bessie on the mantelpiece--a copy of the -same that she had sent to Stowell. He snatched it up and kissed it. -Never had Bessie been so dear to him as now--now when she was in -prison under a false accusation. And the best of it was that he was -to get her off. He must see her at once, though. - -"My poor girl! In Castle Rushen!" - -The first thing to do was to wash and change (he cut himself badly in -shaving), but in less than half-an-hour he was at the Post-office -telegraphing to Fenella. - -"Gladly." - -Brief as the message was, the clerk at the counter could hardly -decipher the agitated handwriting. - -A few minutes later he was at the Police-office, asking the Chief -Constable for an order to allow him, as Bessie's advocate, to see her -alone in her cell. - -At two o'clock he was back at the railway-station, taking the train -for Castletown. As he stepped into his carriage the newsboys were -calling the contents of the evening paper: - -_Victor Stowell appointed Deemster._ - -Glorious! Bessie would have a human being on the bench. Thank God -for that anyway! - - - -II - -"I don't know what you are talking about--I really don't. You make -me laugh. Whatever will you say next! I was ill and I came home to -have my mother nurse me, and that was all I knew until Cain, the -constable, came to bring me here." - -It was Bessie before the High Bailiff. Her face was thin and pale, -and she was clutching the rail of the dock in an effort to keep -herself erect, while her shrill voice echoed to the roof. - -The magistrate was about to commit her to prison when Dr. Clucas rose -in the body of the Court-house. - -"Your worship," he said (his voice was husky and his eyes had a look -of tears), "the defendant is suffering from the temporary mania which -is not unusual in such cases. I suggest that she should be sent to -the hospital." - -Bessie fainted. The next thing she knew was that she was in bed in a -hospital ward, and that another doctor (a younger man with thin hair -and a large pugnacious mouth) was leaning over her, and laying his -hand on her breast. She pushed it off, and then he said, in an -authoritative tone, - -"My good woman, if you are innocent, as you say, the best proof you -can give is that of a medical examination." - -At this Bessie broke into fierce wrath. - -"If you touch me again," she cried, "I'll tear your eyes out!" - -Then she fainted once more, and for two days lay in a strong -delirium. When she came to herself a nurse with a kind face was by -her side, saying "Hush!" and doing something at her breast with a -glass instrument. - -She knew she had been delirious (having a vague memory of crying -"Alick! Alick!" as she returned to consciousness) and was in fear of -what she might have said. - -"Is it morning?" she asked. - -"Yes, dear." - -"Then it's the next day?" - -"The next but one." - -"Have I been wandering?" - -"A little." - -"Did I call for anybody?" - -"Yes." - -She dare not ask whom, but lay wondering if Alick knew where she was -and what had happened to her. After a while she said, - -"Is it in the papers?" - -The nurse nodded, and after a moment, with her eyes down, Bessie said, - -"Has anybody been here to ask for me?" - -"Yes, your mother--she comes night and morning." - -"Nobody else?" - -"Nobody." - -Bessie broke into sobs and turned her face to the wall. Alick knew! -He had given her up! She had lost him! - -When she recovered from an agony of tears her eyes were glittering -and her heart was bitter. What did she care what became of her now? -They might do what they liked with her. Deny? What was the good? -She would deny no longer. She would tell the truth about everything. - -Then Fenella Stanley came. Bessie thought she liked Miss Stanley -better than any woman, except her mother, she had ever known. But -that only made it the harder to hold to her resolution, for if she -told the truth she would surely hurt Fenella. "Oh, why do you come -to torture me?" she cried, when Fenella asked who was her "friend." -And not another word would she say. - -Two days later, before breakfast, Cain, the constable, came with a -sergeant of police to take her to Castle Rushen. She did not care! -Why should she? But as she was leaving the hospital the nurse with -the kind face whispered, - -"Good-bye, dear. You're all right now. I'm going away and will say -nothing." - -It was a cruelly beautiful morning, with a golden shimmer from the -rising sun upon a tranquil sea. The railway station was full of -townspeople going up to Douglas (it was market day there), so Bessie -was hurried into the last compartment. - -When the train ran into the country a flood of memories swept over -her and she found it hard to keep back her tears. The young lambs -were skipping on the hill-sides; the sheep were bleating; girls in -sun bonnets were coming from the whitewashed outhouses to drive the -cattle into the fields. - -When they drew up at the station for the glen the shingly platform -was crowded with passengers waiting for the train--rosy-faced women -with broad open baskets of butter and eggs, and elderly farmers -smoking their strong thick twist and surrounded by their panting -dogs. Bessie knew them all. At the last moment a young woman in a -low cut blouse ran up--it was Susie Stephen. - -Bessie crept into a corner of the carriage and closed her eyes. But -she could not shut out everything. Over the rumble of the wheels, -when the train started again, she heard shrieks of laughter from the -compartment in front. The elderly men were jesting in their free way -with the girls, and the girls, nothing loth, were answering them back. - -At the junction of St. John's, the train had to stop for carriages -from Peel to be linked on to it, and while the coupling was going on -one of the passengers strolled along the platform. It was Willie -Teare, who had wanted to marry Bessie, and he saw her behind the -constables. At the next moment a throng of girls gathered outside -her window, but the constables pulled down the blinds. - -"Take your seats! Take your seats!" - -The train went on. There was no more laughter from the passengers in -the compartment in front. Bessie understood--they were whispering -about her. - -Her heart was becoming hard. Sitting in the darkened carriage, with -spears of sunlight flashing from the flapping blinds, she heard the -constables talking about Mr. Stowell. It was reported that he had -been made Deemster. He would make a good Deemster, too. - -"A taste young, maybe, but clever--clever uncommon." - -On reaching Douglas, where they had to change into the train for -Castletown, Bessie was being hustled across the platform, between the -constables, when she became aware of a crowd of women and girls who -were crushing up to stare at her. There was a whispering and -muttering. - -"There she is!" "Serve her right, _I_ say!" - -Half-an-hour later she was in Castle Rushen. The darkness within was -blinding after the sunshine without. A woman with short and -difficult breathing was moving about her. It was Mrs. Mylrea, the -female warder. She took off Bessie's cloak and hat, and, leaving her -a brown blanket and a hard pillow, went away without speaking a word. - -But then came Vondy, the head jailer, with words enough for both of -them. Bessie did not know she was crying until the old man, in his -blundering way, began to comfort her. - -"Tut, tut, gel! They're not for hanging you yet at all. While -there's life there's hope!" - -Left alone at last, and her eyes accustomed to the darkness, she saw -where she was--in a stone vault that had a small grill in the door -(behind which a candle was burning) and a barred and deeply-recessed -window, near the ceiling, through which a dull ray of borrowed light -was coming, for the prison overlooked the harbour on the west of the -Castle. - -By this time her tears were turned to gall. A frightful revulsion -had come over her soul. What had she done to deserve all this? The -injustice of it, the cruelty, the barbarity, the hypocrisy! - -Men were all alike. Go on, she knew what men were! A man only -wanted one thing of a girl, and when he got that he forgot all about -her. Alick Gell was the best of them, yet even he had forsaken her -now that she was in trouble. - -She had never intended to do harm to anybody, and yet there she was, -and would remain, until they came to take her to the Court-house on -the other side of the Castle-yard. Then hundreds of eyes would be on -her (women's eyes too) and when she raised her own she would see Mr. -Stowell on the bench. - -What a mockery! Mr. Stowell her judge! What would he do? His -"duty" of course. All right, let him do it! Only she, too, would do -something. After he had tried her and sentenced her and finished -with her, she would tell him something. Why shouldn't she? And what -did she care what happened to anybody else? Fenella Stanley was -nothing to her. - -Suddenly she thought again about Alick Gell. If she did what she -intended to do (tell everything) Alick also would be disgraced. The -shame of her misfortune would follow him to the last day of his life. -Even his own father would cast it up to him. Hadn't she done enough -harm to Alick already? If he had deserted her, she had deceived him. -And yet she had deceived him only because she loved him. - -"Alick! Alick! Alick!" - -Her heart was crying. She was wishing she were dead. - -She had flung herself down on her plank bed, with her face to the -blank wall, when she heard the dead beating of footsteps in the -corridor outside. At the next moment the door of her cell was opened -and Tommy Vondy, the jailer, was saying, - -"Mr. Alexander Gell, the advocate, to see you alone." - - - -III - -"Bessie!" - -The jailer had gone. Alick was breathing quickly in the darkness by -the door, and Bessie was huddled up on the bed, with the dull ray of -reflected light upon her from the wall above. - -"Bessie!" - -His voice was low and full of tears. At first she did not answer. - -"It's Alick. Won't you speak to me?" - -"Go away!" - -He could hear that she was crying. - -"You won't send me away, Bessie. I have been looking for you all -over the island. It was only to-day I heard where you were and what -had happened. I have come to help you--to save you." - -He saw the dark form rising on the bed. - -"Do you know what they say I did?" - -"Yes, I know everything." - -"And you don't believe it?" - -"Not one word of it." - -"You think I am innocent?" - -"I am sure you are." - -"Alick!" - -With a great sob that shook her whole body she rose to her feet and -flung herself upon him. For a long time they stood clasped in each -other's arms, and crying like children. Then they sat down side by -side on the plank bed. His arm was about her, and her head was on -his shoulder. - -He was trying to make his voice cheerful, though it cracked sorely, -while he reproved her for her tears. She would soon be free to leave -that place. There was really nothing against her. Never had there -been such a trumped-up case. The police must be crazy. - -She clung to him with a frightened tenderness while he told her of -the letter from Fenella Stanley asking him to take up the defence on -behalf of the Society. - -"Of course I should have taken it up in any case, you know. And now -you must authorise me to defend you." - -She was startled. In the half darkness he saw her pale face (so pale -and so thin) raised to his with a frightened look. - -"You?" - -"Why not, dear? I'm an advocate. You don't suppose I'm going to -leave your defence to anybody else, do you?" - -"No, no! You must not!" - -"But why? Can't you trust me, Bess?" - -"It isn't that." - -"What then?" - -Bessie did not answer him, and he went on talking, though his voice -was breaking again. He knew he was not a born lawyer and a great -speaker like Stowell, but the facts were so clear that he had only to -state them and they would speak for themselves. - -A fierce struggle was going on in Bessie's soul. He whom she had -wronged (never having wronged anybody else), he for whom she had -committed her crime, wanted her to authorise him to stand up in Court -and say she had not committed it. She had deceived him once--could -she deceive him again? - -"No, no, no! I cannot!" - -Alick was puzzled. "What do you mean, Bessie? Why shouldn't I be -your advocate?" - -"I don't want any advocate." - -"But you must have one. It isn't enough to be not guilty--we must -prove you're not. Why shouldn't I do so?" - -At length she was forced to make some explanation. The police were -determined to have her condemned; therefore he would lose his case -and that would go against him. - -"Good gracious, girl, what nonsense! Anybody may lose a case. The -greatest lawyers have lost cases. But it's impossible that I should -lose this one. And even if I lose it--do you know what I shall do?" - -"What?" - -"Wait outside the prison door until you come out and marry you the -same day to show that I believe in you still." - -At that Bessie was in floods of tears again. And again they cried in -each other's arms like children. - -Then Alick, after drying his eyes in the darkness, put on a brave -air, and told her what she had to do. - -"Listen to me now. This is a low conspiracy, but if we are to defeat -it, you must stick to your story. I shall have to put you in the -box, for you must leave the Court without a stain on your character. -First of all you must say...." - -And then sitting by Bessie's side in the dark cell, with only the -candle looking in on them from the outside ledge of the grill, he -rehearsed the facts as they were to be given in Court--how by the -cruelty of her step-father she had been shut out of the house late at -night and had had to go elsewhere; how she had returned, being -unwell, and wishing her mother to nurse her, and how she had been put -to bed and had never left it until the constables came to take her -away. - -Bessie listened in silence, gazing before her like a captured sheep, -and answering only by a nodding of her head. - -"If the Attorney asks you anything else--no matter what--you must say -you know nothing about it---do you understand?" - -"Yes." - -"Say it after me then--'I know nothing about it.'" - -Bessie repeated the words like a woman talking in her sleep---"'I -know nothing about it.'" - -"That's all right. Leave the rest to me." - -"You think I shall get off?" - -"I'm sure of it. If the General Gaol is held next week, we'll be -married the week after." - -"But, Alick?" - -"Yes." - -"Your father and sisters, will they not always cast it up at you that -your wife has been tried for...." - -"Let them! If they do the Isle of Man will be dead to me for ever. -We'll go abroad--to America perhaps--and leave everything and -everybody behind us." - -Bessie was crying once more, and Alick, to conceal his own tears, was -going off with great bustle. - -"Good-bye! I'll be here again to-morrow. And oh, what do you think, -Bess? Great news! Stowell has been made Deemster. So if the good -Lord in Heaven will only keep that damned old Taubman in bed a little -longer with his rheumatism, Stowell will be on the bench and you'll -have a fair trial at all events. Good-bye!" - -For the next half-hour Bessie sobbed with joy. Tell the truth and -destroy Alick's faith in her? Never! Never in this world! - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - -THE DEEMSTER'S OATH - -It was the morning of the day of the swearing-in of the new Deemster -at Castle Rushen. The Bishop had asked permission to solemnise the -ceremony with a religious service--a custom long unobserved. - -The service was held in a groined chamber of moderate size within -walls thirty feet thick, once the banqueting-hall of the Kings of -Man, now the jail chapel, with an atmosphere that seemed to be -compounded equally of the intoxicated laughter of the old revellers -and the moans of the condemned prisoners. - -For the event of the day the chill place had been suitably decorated. -Flags hung on the tarred walls, red cushions from the neighbouring -church had been laid on the bare benches; a carpet had been stretched -down the aisle of the flagged floor; a white embroidered altar-cloth -covered the plain communion table, from which the light of four -candles in silver candlesticks flickered on the faces of the small -congregation--chiefly officials, with their wives and daughters. - -Shortly before eleven, the hour fixed for the service, Stowell -entered, wearing for the first time the wig and gown of a judge, and -he was led to one of three arm-chairs at the front. A little later -there came through the thick walls the sound of soldiery clashing -arms outside the Castle, and at the next moment the Governor arrived -in General's uniform of red and gold, with Fenella behind him in a -large spring hat (her face glowing with animation), and they took the -two remaining chairs. Then the Bishop in his scarlet robes came in, -preceded by his crozier, and the service began. - -It was short but solemn. First a psalm of David ("He shall judge thy -people with righteousness and thy poor with judgment"); then an -epistle to the Romans ("Owe no man anything"); and then an improvised -prayer by the Bishop, asking the Almighty to grant His strength and -wisdom to His servant who was shortly to take the solemn oath of his -great office, that he might deliver the poor and needy, deal -faithfully with all men, and show mercy to such as had erred and -sinned. Then came the hymn "Thou Judge of quick and dead," and -finally the Benediction. - -Stowell was strongly affected. He knelt at the prayer, and when the -service was at an end and it was time to go, Fenella had to touch his -shoulder. - -The sun was bright outside, and they blinked their eyes as they -crossed the courtyard to the Court-house. - -The stately little chamber was full, save for the seats that had been -reserved for the officials. There was a flash of faces, a waft of -perfume, a flutter of handkerchiefs and a hum of whispering as the -Governor stepped up to the scarlet dais, with Stowell following him -and taking for the first time the seat of the Judge. - -People who had been talking of the youth of the new Deemster were -heard to say that in his judge's wig he seemed older than they had -expected and so like the portrait on the wall that one could almost -fancy that his father was looking through the windows of his eyes. - -The proceedings began with the Governor calling upon Stowell for his -Commission, and then reading it aloud--"Our trusty and well-beloved -Victor Stowell to be Deemster of this isle." - -After that everybody stood while the new Judge took the oath of -fealty to the King. Then the Deemster's clerk, Joshua Scarff, in his -coloured spectacles, handed up a quarto copy of the Bible and a deep -hush fell on the assembly, for the time had come for the Deemster's -oath. - -The Governor and Stowell rose again, but all others remained seated. -Each laid one hand on the open Book, and the Governor read the oath, -clause by clause in loud, strong tones that seemed to smite the walls -as with blows. And, clause by clause, Stowell repeated it after him -in a lower voice that was sometimes barely audible: - -"_By this Book and the holy contents thereof...._" - -"_By this Book and the holy contents thereof...._" - -"_And by all the wonderful works which God hath miraculously wrought -in heaven and on the earth beneath in six days and seven nights, I, -Victor Christian Stowell...._" - -"_I, Victor Christian Stowell, do swear that I will, without respect -or fear or friendship, love or gain, consanguinity or affinity, envy -or malice, execute the laws of this isle justly betwixt our Sovereign -Lord the King and his subjects within the isle, and betwixt party and -party, man and man, man and woman...._" - -"_.... man and woman ...._" - -"_.... as indifferently as the herring bone doth lie down the middle -of the fish._" - -There was a deep silence until the oath was ended and then a general -drawing of breath. - -The Governor and the new Deemster sat and the Clerk of the Rolls -handed up the Liber Juramentorum, the Book of Oaths, a large volume -in faded leather with leaves of discoloured parchment. - -It was observed, and afterwards remarked upon, that when Stowell took -up the pen to sign he hesitated for a moment, and then wrote his name -rapidly and nervously, and that, in the silence, a diamond ring which -he wore on his right hand (it was a present from Fenella) clashed -with a discordant sound against the glass tray as he threw the pen -back. - -The business being over, the Bishop gave out the hymn that is sung at -the close of nearly all Manx festivals, "O God, our help," and all -rose and sang. - -Stowell rose with the rest, but he did not sing. He was no longer -conscious of the eyes that were on him. The emotion which he had -been struggling to repress had at length conquered his self-control. -While the Court-house throbbed with the singing he was thinking of -the Judges who had stood in the same place and taken that oath before -him. There had been a thousand years of them. - -He turned to the eastern wall and his father's melancholy eyes seemed -to look at him. "Yes, you too," they seemed to say, "must now do the -right, whatever it may cost you. You are no longer yourself only. -The souls of all your predecessors have this day entered into your -soul. You must consider yourself no more. You must be just--or -perish." - -The hymn came to an end and there was a shuffling of feet like the -pattering of water in the harbour at the top of the tide. The next -thing Stowell knew was that he was unrobed and going down the -Deemster's private staircase to the Court-yard of the Castle. - -A large company was there waiting to congratulate him. Janet (he had -ordered that a front seat should be reserved for her) was holding a -little court of elderly ladies, to whom she was relating wonderful -stories of his childhood. She broke away from them to kiss him. And -then she kissed Fenella also and whispered, - -"Don't forget to send him home in time, dear." - -"I'll not forget," said Fenella. - -And then she, on her part, with a face aflame, whispered something to -the Governor, who, shaking hands all round, was making ready to go. - -"What? You want to return in the automobile? Very well, off you go! -The Attorney will take pity on your forsaken father." - -Outside the gate there was a great crowd, behind a regiment of -red-coated soldiers, and when the Governor and the Attorney-General -drove off they broke into a cheer which drowned the clash of steel -and the first bars of the National Anthem. - -But that was as nothing compared with the demonstration when Stowell -went off in his car, sitting at the wheel, with Fenella beside him. - -"Long live the new Deemster--hip, hip--hip!" - -The great shout, the mighty roar of voices, brought a surging to -Stowell's throat and a tightening to his breast. It followed his -car, going off in the sunshine, until it shot over the bridge that -crossed the harbour, and there Fenella turned back her glistening wet -eyes and bowed. - -* * * * * * * - -Others heard it. The prisoners in their dark cells, rising from -their plank beds and hunching their shoulders in the chill air, -listened to the joyous sounds from without, which broke the usual -silence of their gloomy walls, and said to themselves, - -"What are they doing now, I wonder?" - -There were seven prisoners in the Castle that day. One of them was -Bessie Collister. - - - -II - -"Addio! See you at supper!" - -Fenella was waving to the Governor and the Attorney, and laughing at -their slow speed, as she and Stowell shot past them before they had -left the town. - -The morning was beautiful, the sky blue, the sea glistening under a -fresh breeze. They were running, bounding, leaping along the roads, -and talking loudly above the hum of the car. Stowell had caught the -contagion of Fenella's high spirits and awakened from his long trance. - -"Well, what did you think of it?" - -"The ceremony? Lovely!" - -"But you were crying all the time!" - -"It must have been through looking at you, then. There was everybody -doing you honour, and you looked like a man going to execution." - -He laughed; she laughed; they laughed together, but they had their -serious moments for all that. One of them came when she spoke of the -Oath, saying how quaint and amusing it was. - -"A little frightening, though," said Stowell. - -"Frightening?" - -"Well, yes, I thought so. Made one feel as if old Job had had -something to say for himself. Who was I to judge others, having done -wrong myself?" - -"Really! You wicked fellow! I wasn't aware you had so many sins to -answer for. But _I_ know!" - -And then, in flash after flash, each sparkling like a diamond, came -pictures of his predecessors. The solemn judge; the jesting judge; -the judge who suspected all men of lying; the judge who believed -everybody told the truth; the sour, dour, swearing and hanging judge, -who served Justice as if she had been a Juggernaut, and the gay Judge -who bought and sold her as he did his mistresses. - -"What a procession! And the question was, which kind were you going -to belong to--eh?" - -Again he laughed; they both laughed; and the car flew on. Another -serious moment came. He mentioned the Book of Oaths, saying that -while turning over its leaves with their faded ink he had been seized -with a sudden fear of writing his name, whereupon Fenella, with a -mischievous look of gravity, cried again, - -"_I_ know. You thought you were signing your death-warrant." - -Yet another serious moment came when she asked him if he had not been -proud of the send-off his countrymen had given him at the Castle -gate. He replied that he would have been so but for the wretched -thought that if anything happened to him their love would as suddenly -turn to hate, and they would howl as loudly as they had cheered. - -"But what nonsense!" cried Fenella. "Love--what I call love--is not -like that. It never dies and never changes." - -"Never?" - -"Never! If I loved anybody and anything happened, I should fight the -world for him." - -"Even if he were in the wrong?" - -"Goodness yes! Where would be the merit of fighting for him if he -were in the right?" - -"Darling!" cried Stowell, and, the road being clear, and nobody in -sight, he had to slow down the car to kiss her. - -After that he threw off the solemnity of the ceremony and gave -himself up to the intoxication of love. With Fenella by his side, -looking up at him with her beaming eyes, and laughing with her gay -raillery, what else could he think about? A few miles out of -Castletown he said, - -"Let us take the old road back--it's longer." - -"Yes, it's longer." - -Every fresh mile was a fresh delight. How the Spring was coming on! -Look at the gorse, already in its glory! And the lambs just born and -still trembling on their doddering limbs! And the tragic old hens -with their fluffy yellow broods! And then the cottages, half buried -in their big fuchsias! And the farmers whitewashing their farmhouses -to wipe out the stains of winter! - -"What a jolly old world it is, isn't it?" he cried. - -"Isn't it?" she answered, and without looking to see if the way was -clear, he had to slow down the car and kiss her again. - -A few miles south of Douglas they turned into a road that ran like a -shelf along the edge of the cliffs, with the sea surging on the grey -rocks below, and nothing but its round rim against the sky. The -breeze was stronger out there, but every gust was a joy. Stowell -took off his hat and threw it to the bottom of the car. Fenella -unpinned hers and held it on her knee. His black hair tumbled over -his forehead, and her bronze-brown hair, loosened from its knot, flew -about her head like a flag. - -More than ever now they had the sense of flying. The sun danced on -the breakers; the foam floated in trembling flakes into the blue sky; -the sea-fowl screamed about them. With the taste of the brine on -their lips, and the sting of it in their blood, they shouted at every -sight and sound. - -"Look at that white horse down there! See how he rears his head and -plunges forward. Ah, he has had enough! No, he's coming on again -with a roar!" - -"But look at the sea-holly and the wild thyme! And the rabbits -scuttling into their holes! And the goats on the peaks of the -cliffs!" - -"Lord! What a jolly old world it is, though!" - -"Didn't you say that before, Victor?" - -"Did I? Well, I'm going to say it every blessed day of my life to -come." - -"No, no! Take care! We're on the edge of the cliff. We'll be over!" - -"No matter--another kiss!" - -The wind was from the south, and the sea, breaking along the broken -line of the coast, was making a sound like that of the ringing of -bells. It was the phenomenon of nature which gave rise to the -tradition that a town lies buried under the sea at that point, so -that Manx fishermen, coming back from their fishing-ground at -sunrise, will sometimes say, "The wedding bells are ringing!" - -Stowell heard them now, over the roar of the waves in their mad -welter, and he cried, - -"Listen to the bells!" - -"What bells?" - -"Our bells!" he cried. - -And then at the full power of their lungs, over the hum of the engine -and the boom of the breakers, they sang a verse of the song of the -submerged city: - - "_Here where the ocean is whitened with foam, - Here stood a city, an altar, a home. - Hark to the bells that ring under the sea, - Salve Regina! Salve Regina! - Love is the Queen for you and for me, - Salve, Salve Regina!_" - - -After that they laughed again, and in sheer gaiety of heart, sang -every nonsensical thing they could think about, until, being -breathless and hoarse and compelled to stop, Fenella said, - -"I wonder what those people in the Court-house would think if they -could see their great man now! But I suppose there has never been a -great man since the beginning of the world but some woman has known -him for what he really is--just a big boy!" - -At three o'clock in the afternoon luncheon was over at Government -House; the Governor and the Attorney-General had gone off to smoke; -Miss Green, like a wise woman, had betaken herself to her room, and -Fenella and Stowell were alone. - -"Now you must get away to Ballamoar. I promised Janet to send you -back in time. Some kind of welcome home, you know." - -But Stowell stood over her (she was at the piano) and whispered, - -"When?" - -She pretended not to understand him, and again, and in a more -emphatic voice, he demanded, - -"When?" - -She was compelled to comprehend at last, and said that if all went -well, and he behaved himself, and her father approved, a month that -day, perhaps .... no, two months.... - -"Done!" - -A few minutes later they were in the porch for their last parting. -He was holding her in a long embrace. He felt like Jacob who had -waited so long for Rachel. He would never be entirely happy until -she was wholly his. - -She laughed--a nervous and palpitating laugh. - -"Rachel indeed? Take care it isn't Leah in the morning, Sir." - -But seeing the cloud that crossed his face at that word, she kissed -him of herself, saying they belonged to each other already and -nothing could ever separate them. - -"Nothing?" - -"Nothing!" - -And then a long tremulous kiss and he was gone. - - - -III - -Home! - -He had reached the top of the mountain road, and the setting sun was -striking him full in the face. To right and left, before and behind, -across the broad waters, stood the dim ghosts of England, Scotland, -Ireland and Wales. But what did he care for these greater scenes? -Down yonder was Ballamoar, and to him, as to his father, it was -enough to be Deemster of Man and Judge of his own people. - -News of his home-coming had been telegraphed from Douglas, and when -his car shot out of the glen the church bells were ringing all over -the Curagh. People working in the fields climbed the hedges to wave -as he went by, and feeble old men came to the doors of the cottages -to lift up the hooked handles of their sticks to him. - -On reaching the entrance to Ballamoar he found a crowd waiting at the -gate, and a streamer from post to post, saying-- - - WELCOME TO - HIS FATHER'S SON. - - -The hum of the automobile awakened the colony of rooks in the tall -trees, and, swirling above the lawn, they raised a deafening clamour. -This brought from the porch Janet (back from Castletown) with a -flutter of black frocks and white aprons behind her. - -A great company of the people of the parish were at tea in the hall, -chiefly women, but of all classes, from the nervous wife of the Vicar -to the widow of the cowman. - -"Don't get up," cried Stowell. - -He had entered with a shout, tossing his hat on to the settle and -saluting everybody by name, just as he used to do when he was a boy -and annexed them all for relations. - -"Sit here, Auntie Kitty. This is your seat, Alice. Parson, won't -you take the bottom of the table? And, Dad" (this to Robbie Creer in -his Sunday homespun), "take my place by Mrs. Creer while I help Jane -with the teacups." - -"Did thou hear that, mistress?" said Robbie behind his hand to Janet, -who was turning the tap of the tea urn. "They may make him Dempster, -but he doesn't forget his old friends for all." - -In a moment everybody was talking and laughing. It was just as if a -fresh breeze had come down from the mountains on a hot day in harvest. - -During tea Joshua Scarff arrived with a green portfolio under his arm. - -"I've brought some documents you'll wish to look at before the Court -sits, your Honour." - -"Good! Put them on the desk in the library and then come back and -have some tea." - -The twilight deepened and the company prepared to go. Stowell stood -at the door, with Janet beside him, while the young girls of the -choir of the Methodist chapel ranged themselves in front of the house -and sang in their sweet young voices, which floated through the -gathering gloom, "God be with you till we meet again." - -"Good-night, all!" - -"Good-night, your Honour!" - -Night! The great day had dropped asleep; the clock on the landing -was striking nine; dinner was over; Janet (she had "a head") had gone -to her room, and Stowell was stepping on to the piazza. - -The wind had fallen and the night was silent, almost breathless. The -revolving light on the Point of Ayre was answering to the gleam on -Galloway; and the moon, which was almost at the full, was glistening -on the waters that rolled between. - -How beautiful, how limpid! It was just such a night as that on which -Fenella and he had sat out there together. He could still see her as -she was then--the slim young girl in a white dress and satin -slippers, with her intoxicating face in the frame of the silk -handkerchief which she had bound about her head. And now she was to -become his wife! - -A great new vista was opening out to him. Life was about to begin in -earnest. With that splendid woman by his side he was going to rise -(if God would be so good to him) out of the muddy imperfections of -his lower nature. His breast swelled; his throat tightened; his -heart sang; he was entirely happy. - -Suddenly he remembered Alick Gell. He had not seen him at Castletown -that day, or at all since he returned from London. Why was that? -Could it be possible that the matter they had spoken about on the -steamer .... - -No, no! Still he must fulfil his promise. He would step into the -library and write a line saying he was ready to go down to Derby -Haven if necessary. - -As he passed through the dining-room he framed the words of his -letter: "Where were you, you old scoundrel, that you were not at the -Swearing-in? I suppose the matter you mentioned has righted itself -since I went away, but if not and you still want me...." - - - -IV - -The house was very quiet. He felt an unaccountable chill coming over -him. On the threshold of the library he paused. He had the sense of -a mysterious presence in the room. The log fire had burnt low; the -lamp on the desk, under his mother's portrait, had been turned down; -deep shadows lay around. - -Making an effort he entered, stepping softly, yet hardly knowing why -he did so. On reaching the desk he turned up the light and then his -eye fell on the green portfolio which he had last seen under Joshua -Scarff's arm. It bore a label on which was written: - - - "_Calendar of Cases to be tried at the Spring Session of the - Court of General Gaol Delivery. Presiding Deemster_--DEEMSTER - VICTOR STOWELL." - - -Then came a moral thunderclap. Opening the Calendar he read these -words on the first page of it: - - _REX _v._ CORTEEN - FOR MURDER - DEPOSITIONS._ - - - _That Elizabeth Corteen, commonly called Bessie Collister, on or - about the fifth day of April--in the parish of Ballaugh, in the - Isle of Man, feloniously, wilfully, and of her malice - aforethought, did kill and murder a certain male child, contrary - to the form of the Statute in such cases made and provided, and - against the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King, his Crown and - dignity._ - - -A mist rose before Stowell's eyes. He could not read any more, but -stood for a moment looking down at the writing. Life seemed to run -out of him in a pounding rush. The walls of the room, and -particularly the picture of his mother, began to reel about in a -rapidly increasing vertigo. He put his hand on a chair but felt -nothing. At the next moment darkness came and he knew no more. - - - -END OF THIRD BOOK - - - - -FOURTH BOOK - -THE RETRIBUTION - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - -THE WIND AND THE WHIRLWIND - -Next day the insular newspapers announced that the new Deemster, on -his return home from Castletown, after the ceremony of his -swearing-in, had had a sudden seizure. A heavy fall had been heard -by the servants, and they had found their master lying on the floor -of the library, unconscious. - -Early in the morning Robbie Creer had driven into town for Dr. -Clucas, who had ordered rest--absolute rest. - -"We must have three full days in bed, Mr. Stowell, Sir. And if it is -necessary to postpone the Court of General Gaol Delivery, I think -.... I really think we must ask his Excellency to do so." - -Stowell drew a deep breath and fell asleep. When he awoke it was -mid-day. He was in bed in his father's bedroom and Fenella was -sitting by his side, holding his hand. After he had opened his eyes -she leaned over him and kissed him, saying in a soft voice that he -would soon be better. - -"It was that oath-taking, dear. I could see you were taking it too -seriously." - -His heart was still warm with the embraces of yesterday, yet he tried -in vain to kiss her back. But he laughed a little and made light of -his seizure. It was nothing, but a little dizziness; he would be -about again in a day or two. - -"Would you like me to stay and nurse you?" - -"No, no! .... I mean you needn't...." - -His stammering broke down and his face gloomed, but with a quick -smile she said, - -"Oh, very well, Sir, if you won't have me, Janet will take care of -you, and send me a telegram night and morning to say how you are. -Won't you, Janet?" - -From some unseen place behind the curtains of the four-poster, Janet, -snuffling and blowing her nose, answered that she would. - -"And now I'll be wishing you good-morning, Sir," said Fenella, making -(after another kiss) a stately curtsey to him as he lay in bed. - -The sounds of the wheels of the Governor's carriage having died off -on the drive, Stowell found himself alone and face to face with a -tragic problem--what was he to do about the trial of Bessie Collister? - -This, then, was the case Fenella had written about while he was in -London. Why had he not thought of it before? He could not pretend -that he had never had misgivings. Again and again the evil shadow of -a dread possibility had crossed his mind like a vanishing dream at -the moment of awakening. - -He had put it aside, banished it, explained it away to himself. In -the fullness of his happiness he had even forgotten it altogether. -But Nature did not forget. And now his sin had fallen on him like an -avalanche--fallen as only an avalanche falls, when the sky is blue, -the air is warm and the sun is shining. - -He had no doubt about Bessie's guilt. But what about his own? And -if he were guilty (in the second degree), being the first cause of -the girl's crime, how could he sit in judgment upon her? - -To try his own victim, to question her, to go through the mockery of -weighing the evidence against her, to condemn her, to sentence -her--it would be impossible, utterly impossible, contrary to all -legal usage, a violation of the spirit if not the letter of his oath -in his first hour as a Judge. - -And then the human side of it--the terror, the peril! That poor girl -in the dock, in the depths of her shame and the throes of her -temptation, while he, her fellow sinner.... - -No, no, no! It would not only be a crime against Justice; it would -be a sin against God. - -Joshua Scarff came in the afternoon. Standing by the bed, and -looking down through his dark spectacles, he said, - -"This is a pity, your Honour! A great pity! Such interesting cases! -Your Honour must have wished to study them before sitting in Court." - -"Joshua," said Stowell (he was breathing hard and speaking with -difficulty), "go to Deemster Taubman, tell him what has happened, and -say that if, as a great favour, he can take the Court next week, I -shall be eternally grateful." - -The Deemster's clerk was almost speechless with dismay. His Honour's -first Court! Pity! Great pity! - -But Stowell felt an immense relief. Thank God, there was another -Deemster to fall back upon. He need not break the spirit of his -oath. Bad as the event was at the best, at least there need be no -Conflict between his private interests and his public duty. - - - -II - -Stowell, in spite of Dr. Clucas, got up next morning. He was sitting -before the fire in the library when Janet came in to say that Mrs. -Collister of Baldromma was asking to see the Deemster. She had come -to plead for her daughter--that girl who was to be tried for killing -her baby. - -"I told her she shouldn't have come here and that the old Deemster -would never have seen her. But it's pitiful to see the poor thing. -She is lame, too, and has walked all the way. What am I to say to -her?" - -Stowell struggled with himself for a moment, and then, with an -embarrassed utterance said, - -"Let her come in." - -"This is very wrong of you, Mrs. Collister" (he was trying to keep a -firm lip and to speak severely); "you know it is against all rule." - -The old woman, trembling and wiping her eyes, said she knew it was, -but she had known his father. There had been none like him--no, not -the whole island over. He had been every poor person's friend. If -anybody had been injured she had only to draw to him for refuge and -he had protected her. And if any poor girl had gone wrong, and -broken the law, perhaps, it was the big man himself who was always -there to show her mercy. - -"That's why I thought maybe his son, if he had his father's heart -.... and people are saying he has too .... maybe his son wouldn't -send a poor mother away when she's in trouble and has nobody else to -go to." - -"Sit down, Mrs. Collister." - -The old woman sat in the chair which Janet turned for her, and began -on her story. - -"It's about Bessie." - -She had always been a good girl. No mother ever had a better. And -if people were saying she had been in trouble before, might the Lord -forgive them when their own time came, for it was lies they were -putting on the girl. - -"And if she's in trouble now, your Honour, it's like it's not all her -own fault neither." - -First there was her father. He had been shocking hard on the girl, -shutting her out of the house in the dark of night and so throwing -her into the way of temptation. - -"Until they lay me under the sod I'll never get it out of my ears, -Sir---the sound of her foot going off on the street." - -And when the girl came home again, looking that weak that it seemed -as if the world wasn't willing to stand under her, the father had -taunted her with coming back to eat them up, and maybe bringing -another mouth to feed. - -"So if she did the terrible shocking thing they're saying .... I -don't know if she did, your Honour .... I don't know if she ever left -the dairy loft from the minute I took her up to it until Cain the -constable (may the Lord forgive him!) came dragging her down .... but -if she did, it's like it was because the poor child was alone in the -dark midnight, and out of herself entirely, and not knowing what she -was doing, and perhaps freckened of what the old man would be saying -in the morning." - -Stowell was silent. The old woman cried softly to herself for a -moment and then said, - -"Nobody knows what that is, your Honour, except them that has gone -through it." - -Then she wiped her eyes, one after another, and said she could not -sleep "a wink on the night," lying in her white bed and thinking of -Bessie where she was now. And having read "in class" last evening -how the Lord heard the cry of Hagar for her son in the wilderness she -had thought his Honour might hear her cry for her daughter. - -Stowell knew that his feelings as a man were getting the better of -his duty as a Judge, so he tried to be severe with the old woman, -telling her she had no right to come to him, and that he had done -wrong to listen to her. - -"In fact I could not have received you at all but for one thing--I am -not going to try your daughter's case." - -The old woman was appalled. - -"Do you mean, Sir, that you'll not be trying Bessie?" - -"No, Deemster Taubman will probably do so." - -At that the old woman broke into a flood of tears. - -"Aw dear! Aw dear! And me praying on my knees on the kitchen floor -that the Lord would bring you back in time from London--someones -being so hard on poor girls in trouble!" - -Again Stowell was silent, and for some moments nothing was heard but -the woman's broken sobs. At length, unable to bear any longer the -sight of the old mother's disappointment, he said he would do what he -could for her. If he could not sit on her daughter's case he would -write to Deemster Taubman, explaining her condition and describing -her temptations. - -"God bless you for that," cried the old woman. And then Janet said -it was time to go, his Honour being unwell. - -"May the Lord give him health and strength and long life, ma'am!" - -People were right when they were telling her he had his father's -heart. He had too. She was going out of the room with hope kindled, -when she said, - -"You must excuse a poor woman if she did wrong in coming to you, Sir." - -"We'll say no more about that now," said Stowell. "Go home and rest, -mother." - -At that word the old woman broke down utterly. But after a moment -her weak eyes shone and she said, - -"Bessie is not your quality, Sir, but if she gets off she'll write to -thank you." - -"No, no! She must never do that," said Stowell. - -"Come now, Mrs. Collister," said Janet. - -But having reached the door, the old woman turned her wet face, and -seeing the portrait of Stowell's mother on the wall, and mistaking it -for that of Fenella, she said, - -"They're telling me you're to be married soon, your Honour. May the -Lord give you peace and love in your own home, and that's better than -gold or lands, Sir." - -Stowell tried to reply, but he could only wave his hand and turn to -the window as the old woman left the room. - -Why not? What sin against God would it be to unite this suffering -woman to her suffering daughter, if he could do so without wronging -Justice? - -A moment afterwards Janet came back wiping her eyes. - -"Oh, these mothers! They're fit enough to break one's heart, Victor." - - - -III - -Stowell was in the dining-room next day when he heard the clatter of -a horse's hoofs on the drive, and, a moment later, a voice in the -hall, saying, - -"The Deemster will see _me_, Jane." - -It was Alick Gell. His tall figure was more bent than usual; his -hair was disordered; his eyes glittered; he was deeply agitated. - -"Excuse me, old fellow. You know why I've not been here before. -It's Bessie. I'm busy every hour, getting up her case. Awful, isn't -it? I can't make myself believe it even yet. Sometimes in the -middle of the night I hear myself crying 'Good God, it can't be -true!'" - -Stowell could scarcely find voice to reply. He remembered what he -had advised Fenella to get Gell to do. Had Bessie told him?" - -"I received Fenella's letter and of course I am taking up the -defence. I've seen Bessie, too, and arranged everything. She's -innocent and I'll fight for her to the last breath in my body. But -look here--read this," he said, dragging a crumbled newspaper from -his pocket, and handing it to Stowell with a trembling hand. - -It was a copy of the day's insular paper containing a paragraph which -said that the continued illness of the new Deemster would probably -prevent him from presiding at the forthcoming sitting of the Court of -General Gaol Delivery. - -"That's the first edition. When it was published at twelve o'clock I -couldn't wait until the afternoon train, so I hired a horse from -Fargher, the jobmaster, and I've galloped all the way. Don't tell me -it's true." - -Stowell answered in a low tone that perhaps it might have to be, -whereupon Gell made a cry of dismay. - -"Then God help my poor girl! It will be Taubman, and she'll not have -a dog's chance with him." - -Taubman was a brute--especially in cases of this kind. What did -people say about him--that when he saw a woman in the dock he was -like a cat who had seen a rat? It was true. He was always bullying -the juries who showed humanity to girls in trouble. - -"The infernal old blockhead! He has rheumatism in the legs, they -say. I wish to heaven he had it in his throat, and it would choke -him." - -And then the barbarous old Statute! Practically repealed in every -other country, but still capable of operation in the Isle of Man. -Think of it! Five years, ten years, fifteen years--even death -itself, perhaps! - -"Stowell, we are old chums .... it's not right of me, I know that -.... but for the sake of our old friendship, sit on Bessie's case -yourself." - -Stowell felt as if he were on the edge of a precipice. Abysmal -depths lay before him at the next step. With an awful secret in his -heart he felt that it was almost impossible to speak one word more -without betraying himself. He was silent, for a moment while Gell -stood over him with wild eyes which he had never seen before. At -length he said, - -"Bessie is to plead Not Guilty?" - -"Certainly." - -"Will she stick to that?" - -"Undoubtedly. Why shouldn't she? Besides, she has given me her -promise." - -Again Stowell was silent for a moment; then he said, - -"I cannot promise to conduct the Court, but if Taubman will do so, -and I'm fit to sit with him, I'll .... I'll see she has a fair trial." - -Gell made a shout of joy. - -"That's good enough for me. Just like you, old fellow." - -He snatched up his cap--a different man in a moment. - -"I must get back to town now. I have the witnesses to arrange for. -Not too many of them unfortunately. There's the mother, she's all -right, but not likely to be good in the box. I'm not calling the -step-father. It seems he's giving the case away in the glen. The -damned old blackguard! I should like to break his ugly neck. I -jolly well will, too, one of these days. But Bessie will clear -herself. Since she's going to be my wife she must leave the Court -without a stain. Good-bye and God bless you, old chap! .... No, no, -don't come to the door." (Stowell was for seeing him out.) "Take -care of yourself. Good men are scarce. And then you've got to be -fit for the Court, you know. By-bye!" - -Stowell watched him from the window as he rode down the drive on his -tired horse, patting its neck and encouraging it with cheery cries. - -Now he understood why Bessie had held off while Gell had wished to -marry her. It had been a case of the wife of the Peel fisherman over -again, with the difference that Bessie (to avoid the danger of -deceiving her husband) had made away with her child before marriage -instead of after it. Wild, foolish, frantic scheme! Yet what -courage! What strength! What affection! - -But if, under Taubman's searching questions, the conspiracy of love -should fail, and Bessie's defence should collapse, and Gell should -see that she had deceived him, and that _he_ too.... - -No, no, that must not be! After all, what outrage on Justice would -it be to keep a case like this out of the hands of a cold-blooded -inhuman legal machine who would commit more crime than he punished? - -Still standing by the window, Stowell heard the clatter of a horse's -hoofs on the high road. Gell, in high spirits, was galloping home. - - - -IV - -Later in the day Stowell was alone in the library reading the -Depositions. In his secret heart he knew that a wicked temptation -had come to him--the temptation to get Bessie off, and to stop the -flood of evil which would surely follow if Deemster Taubman tried her -and she were condemned. But all the same he was struggling to drown -his qualms in contempt of the case against her. - -How little there was to it! The direct evidence was almost childish. -The medical testimony was the only thing of consequence, but how -sloppy, how inconclusive! Was there anything against Bessie which -he, if he had been the advocate for the defence, could not have -riddled with as many holes as there were in a cullender? Then why -shouldn't he sit on her case? - -Guilty? Perhaps she was; but, even so, was it not the theory of the -law that she had to be proved guilty--that a prisoner should have a -fair legal trial and be convicted or acquitted according to the -evidence before the Court? Why shouldn't he? - -Suddenly he became aware of a tumult at the front door. Somebody was -bawling in a loud voice, - -"I'll see the Dempster if I have to shout the house down." - -It was Dan Baldromma. Stowell stepped into the hall and said to the -housemaid, who was barring the door against the intruder, - -"Let him come in, Jane." - -Dan, with his short, gross figure, rolled into the house without -remembering to take his hat off. - -"Well, what do you want?" said Stowell--he was quivering with anger. - -"I want to know what is to be done for me?" said Dan. - -"For you?" - -"For my daughter then--my step-daughter, I mane." - -When he had seen Mr. Sto'll last--it was at his office in Ramsey--he -had warned him that the man who had got his daughter into disgrace -had got to marry her. But had he? No! He had refused--he must have -done. And that was the reason why she did what they say. But, -behold you, who was being blamed for it? Himself! Yes, people were -looking black at him and saying he had thrown the girl into the way -of temptation. - -That was not the worst of it either. He had expected dacent -tratement about the farm when he became father-in-law to the man who -would come into it by heirship. But now the girl was in Castle -Rushen, and if they sent her over the water the Spaker would be -turning him out of house and home. - -"He's after threatening it already--to show me the road at Hollantide -.... What's that you say, Sir? Thinking of myself, am I? Maybe I -am, then, and what for shouldn't I? Near is my shirt but nearer is -my skin, they're saying." - -Stowell, swept by gusts of passion, was doing his best to control -himself. - -"Well, what have you come to me for?" he asked. - -Dan thrust forward his thick neck with his bull-like gesture, and -said, - -"To tell you to get her off." - -"Even if she is guilty?" - -"Chut! Who's to know that if the Coorts acquit her? They are wayses -and wayses. Lawyers are mortal clever at twisting the law when -they're wanting to. You're Dempster now; and the bosom friend of the -man that got my girl into this trouble has got to get her out of it." - -"So," said Stowell, breathing hard, "you have come to ask me to -degrade Justice" (Dan made a grunt of contempt), "not to save the -girl but to protect you--you and your rag of a character?" - -Dan drew himself up with a short laugh, half bitter and half -triumphant. - -"Rag, is it? Take care what you're saying, Mr. Sto'll, Sir. You may -be a big man in the island now, but there's them that's bigger and -that's the people." - -Stowell pointed with a quivering hand to the clock on the landing, -and said, - -"Look at that clock. If you're not out of this house in one -minute...." - -Dan's laugh rose to a cry of derision. - -"So that's it, is it? That's what the first Justice of the Peace in -the Isle of Man is, eh? Son of the ould Dempster too! The grand -ould holy saint as they're...." - -But before he could finish, Stowell, with a shout that drowned Dan's -laugh as if it had been the whimper of a baby girl, laid hold of the -man by the collar of his coat and the slack of his trousers and flung -him out of the open door and clashed it after him. - -Dan, who had rolled and tossed and bumped on the path like a fat -hogshead kecked from the tail of a cart, picked himself up and went -staggering down the drive, shaking his fist at the house and pouring -his maledictions upon it in a voice that was like the broken howl of -a limping dog. - -Janet came running from her room, and seeing Stowell with his eyes -aflame and panting for breath, said, - -"Oh dear! Oh dear! Now you'll be worse." - -"On the contrary, I'll be better--better in every way," he said. - -His resolution was taken. Never would he sit on Bessie's case. -Nothing should tempt him to do so. - -But Fate had not yet done with him. - - - -V - -On the afternoon of the following day Stowell walked for a long hour -on the shore, trying to deaden the tumult in his brain in the loud -surge of the sea. Returning to Ballamoar he found the Governor's -carriage outside the house. Had the Governor come to see him? It -was Fenella. She was at tea with Janet in the library. - -Although she rose to greet him with all the sunshine of her smile he -could see that her face was feverish. - -"I've come to the north on three errands," she said. - -"So?" - -"First to see yourself, of course, and I find that, in spite of -doctor's orders, you have already resumed your gypsy habits." - -"He _would_ go out, dear," said Janet. - -"Next, to deliver a message from the Governor." - -"Yes?" - -"He has postponed the Court for three days in the hope that you may -be able to sit then." - -"Ah!" - -"My last errand was to see the mother of that poor girl who is to be -charged with the murder of her child." - -"The mother?" - -"Yes, I've just left her. She still says she knows nothing. It's -pitiful! A simple, sincere, religious old soul, who has seen trouble -of her own apparently. I don't think for a moment she would tell an -untruth, yet it is easy to see that in her heart she believes her -daughter to be guilty." - -"Guilty?" - -"Yes, but there's somebody guiltier than the girl--the man." - -Stowell was silent; but he felt his face twitching. - -"That's why I am so anxious that you should sit on this case if you -can, Victor, not leave it to Deemster Taubman. Old Judges often -refuse to investigate collateral facts, and so the woman is punished -and the man goes free." - -"They can't do otherwise, dear. They can't try the man." - -"Not if he has been a party to the crime?" - -"A party...." - -"Yes! I'm satisfied that in this case he is, too." - -The girl might be guilty, but she could not have done all she was -charged with. It was physically impossible. Somebody must have -helped her. And that somebody (the old mother having to be ruled -out) must be the man who had it to his interest to save his miserable -character by concealing the fact that the girl had given birth to a -child at all. - -Stowell had as much as he could do to cover his embarrassment. He -lowered his voice and said, - -"That's a blind alley. I've read the Depositions. I'm sure it is, -dear." - -"Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't," said Fenella. "I intend to follow -it up anyway." - -"How?" said Stowell, but rather with his mouth than his voice. - -"I'm already on the track of something." - -"On the track...." - -"Yes. It seems that somebody has been telling the mother that on the -night when the girl left home (shut out by her abominable -step-father, you know) she went to the house of a Mrs. Quayle, living -on the south shore in Ramsey." - -Stowell's heart thumped and his lips quivered. - -"Mrs. Quayle?" - -"Why, that must be the housekeeper at your chambers, dear," said -Janet, busy with her teacups. - -"You know her? .... But then everybody knows everybody in the Isle of -Man," said Fenella. - -With a sense of duplicity, Stowell found himself saying, "Well?" - -"Well, I'm going to see this Mrs. Quayle on my way home to Government -House. She'll be able to tell me how long the girl stayed with her, -who took her away, and where she went to." - -Stowell dropped his head, feeling that he wanted to escape from the -room, and Fenella (indignantly, passionately, vehemently) went on to -denounce the guilty man. - -"Of course the girl is shielding him. A woman always does that. I -should do it myself if I were in the same position. But oh, how I -should like to find him out! Even if he has taken no part in the -actual crime, how I should like to punish him--to expose him! You -must sit on this case--you really must, dear." - -When the time came for Fenella to go Janet took her upstairs to look -at some new decorations that had been made in the room that was to be -her boudoir. Stowell remained in the library, and the sound of -Fenella's step on the floor above beat on his stunned brain with the -drumming noise of a train in a tunnel. - -He had a sense of cowardice which he had never felt before. At one -moment he wanted to tell Fenella everything, thinking that would be -the end of his tortures. But at the next he reflected that it would -be the beginning of hers--inflicting an incurable wound upon her -affection. And then if Bessie were going to be acquitted, as seemed -possible (the evidence being so unconvincing), why should he enlarge -the area of the shameful secret? - -When Fenella returned (saying, as she came downstairs, how beautiful -her room was and how proud she would be of it) he took her out to the -carriage. - -"Do you remember," she whispered (she had recovered her gay spirits, -the coachman was on the box), "do you remember the first time you saw -me off from here?" - -He nodded and tried to smile. - -"I was too bashful to shake hands and you were too shy to look at me." - -And being seated in the carriage and the door closed on her, she said, - -"By the way, wouldn't you like to drive over with me to Mrs. Quayle -if I brought you home again?" - -"No, no .... I mean...." - -She laughed merrily. "Oh, very well! You've refused me again! I'll -remember it, Sir." - -After the carriage had disappeared at the turn of the drive, Stowell -went up to his room, shut the door behind him and covered his face in -his hands. - -Fenella hunting him down! Blindly, unconsciously, innocently, while -urging him, entreating him, almost compelling him to sit on the case. -The woman he loved and who loved him was trying to destroy him. Was -this to be his punishment? - -Mrs. Quayle? No, she would say nothing. If she thought it would -injure his mother's son no power on earth would prevail upon her to -speak. But sooner or later, by one means or other, Fenella would -find out, and then.... - -"God be merciful to me, a sinner!" he moaned, smothering the sound of -the words behind his hands. - -Could he sit in judgment on Bessie Collister's case with all the -forces of the defence (inspired by Fenella) directed towards branding -the Judge as the real criminal? Impossible! Yet what could he do? - -At length an idea occurred to him. He would go up to Government -House, tell the whole truth to the Governor and ask to be relieved of -his duty. It would be a terrible ordeal, but there was no escape -from it. - -"Yes, I will go up to the Governor in the morning." - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - -THE JUDGE AND THE MAN - -"Helloa! Glad to see you about again. Fenella has gone off to the -south of the island somewhere, but she'll be home for luncheon. Take -a cigar? No? Not smoking yet? I must anyway." - -"I've come to see you on a serious matter, Sir," said Stowell--he -felt his lips trembling. - -"So?" - -The Governor glanced up quickly, charged his pipe and then settled -himself to listen. - -"You will remember the story I told you--about the man who had -promised to marry a girl and then fallen in love with somebody else?" - -"Perfectly." - -Stowell paused a moment. His lips became pale and his hands -contracted. - -"Well?" - -"That was my own story, Sir." - -There was another moment of silence. Stowell had expected an -exclamation of surprise, a clang of astonishment, but the Governor's -face was still to the fire and the only sound he made was the -swivelling of the pipe between his teeth. - -"You advised me to break off the engagement and I did so." - -"What was the result?" - -"The girl was relieved." - -"Relieved?" - -"Yes, because she, too, had in the meantime fallen in love with -somebody else--my friend Gell." - -"How fortunate!" - -"It seemed so at first. I thought Providence had stepped in to help -her out. But Fate has kept a terrible reckoning, Sir." - -"What has happened?" - -"The girl has committed a crime. She is in Castle Rushen awaiting -her trial for the murder of her new-born child." - -"The woman Collister?" - -"Yes. And now I'm a Judge and in ordinary course it is my duty to -try her." - -There was another period of silence, broken only by the rapid puffing -of the Governor's pipe. - -"But that's not all, Sir. Being in this frightful position -everything is tempting me to corrupt Justice. First, my natural -desire to influence the trial in favour of the girl--perhaps to get -her off altogether. Next, pity for her poor mother who has been -pleading for mercy. Then, friendship for Gell who has been begging -me to try the case because the old Statute is severe and my colleague -cruel. And last of all the step-father of the girl who has been -trying to intimidate me." - -"Well?" - -"I think you will see it is impossible for me to sit on a case in -which my private interest and my public duty conflict--utterly -impossible. It would be against all usage, all justice." - -The Governor removed his pipe. His face had become cold and hard. -"You speak of your colleague--have you done anything with him?" - -"Yes. I've asked him to sit instead of me." - -"What if he cannot?" - -"Then I will ask you, Sir, to send for another Judge from across the -water." - -Stowell had struggled through to the end, although perspiration had -been breaking out on his forehead. When he had finished the Governor -sat for some time without speaking. - -Obscure motives were operating within him. In the depths of his mind -(scarcely known to himself) he was asking himself, "How will all -this, if I allow it to go farther, affect Fenella? Will it stop her -marriage, disturb her happiness, destroy her life?" But on the -surface of his mind he was only aware of considerations of public -welfare. He was irritated by what had occurred. It was an -impediment in his path which he wished to kick out of the way. - -He rose, laid his pipe on the mantelpiece, and standing with his back -to the fire and his hands behind him, his chin firm and his mouth set -hard, he said, with sudden energy, - -"Now listen to me. I always knew that was your own story." - -"Yes?" - -"What I did not know was that any harm had been done. Did you?" - -"Indeed no." - -"Did the girl?" - -"It is incredible." - -"Do you know that she has killed her child?" - -"Not certainly. She denies it, and the evidence is not too -convincing." - -"Do you know that she ever had a child?" - -"No .... I can't say .... She denies that also, and the medical -testimony is far from conclusive." - -"Do you know--are you satisfied--that if she had a child, and killed -it, the child was yours?" - -Stowell, with a gulp, stammered something about Bessie having been a -good girl before he met her. - -"But do you know _anything_?" - -"Well, no .... I can't say...." - -"Then, good heavens, what are you thinking about? Knowing nothing, -nothing really, you are acting, and asking me to act, on a cloud of -conjectures. I'll not do it." - -Stowell drew his breath with a gasp of relief. It was just as if he -had been living for days in the stuffy atmosphere of a sealed room -and somebody had broken open a window. His head was down; the -Governor touched his shoulder. - -"My friend, you are doing that poor girl a cruel injustice." - -Stowell was startled and looked up. - -"In your own mind you are finding her guilty before she has been -tried." - -"Ah!" - -"You are doing yourself an injustice, too. Even if the girl -committed this crime--I say _if_--_you_ are not responsible for it." - -Stowell began to stammer again. "I .... I did wrong in the first -instance, Sir, and nothing but wrong...." - -But the Governor said sharply, "Of course you did wrong in the first -instance. But that has nothing to do with the wrong which she (if -she is guilty) has done since. It can't be supposed that you had any -sympathy with her act, can it?" - -"God forbid!" - -"Did you desert her? Did you leave her to the mercy of the world? -Has she ever been in want? Was she in any danger of being unable to -provide for her offspring when it came?" - -"No .... I cannot say...." - -"Then what folly to think you are responsible for what she did in -taking the life of her child--if she did take it. No, other facts -and motives operated with the girl. And whatever those facts and -motives were, you, so far as I can see, had nothing to do with -them--nothing whatever." - -Stowell's pulse was beating high. He tried to say something about -his moral responsibility, but again the Governor cut him short. - -"Your moral responsibility!" he said, with a ring of sarcasm. "I'm -sick of this sentimental talk about moral responsibility--man's -responsibility for the conduct of woman, and all the rest of it. The -person who commits the crime is the criminal--that's the only -foundation of law and order." - -"Then you think, Sir," said Stowell, "that since I...." - -"I think," said the Governor, "that the whole thing is unfortunate, -damnably unfortunate, but since you are not responsible for the -girl's crime, if she committed a crime at all, and knew nothing about -it, and have no sympathy with it, you ought to go on doing your duty. -Why shouldn't you? .... Interested? Of course you are interested. -In a little community like this a Judge is nearly always interested. -Isn't that what your Deemster's oath is intended to provide for?" - -Stowell muttered something about being afraid, and again the Governor -caught him up. - -"Afraid? What are you afraid of? The public? Doesn't it occur to -you that the only risk you run in that direction is not the risk of -sitting on this case but of not sitting on it? There must be people -who have seen you coming here this morning, and if you are not in -Court on the appointed day, aren't they likely to ask why?" - -"There's Gell...." - -"Certainly there's Gell .... When the marriage was broken off you -didn't tell him anything, did you?" - -Stowell shook his head. "How could I?" - -"Yes, how could you? And now he wishes you to sit, and, if you -don't, isn't he likely to suspect the reason?" - -"There .... there's Baldromma." - -"That wind-bag! Likely to make a cry against the administration of -justice, is he? Well, the surest way to squelch such people is to -walk over them." - -"There's the girl herself." - -"Of course, there's the girl herself. But if she is guilty and has -held her tongue thus far, she'll probably continue to do so." - -The Governor made a turn across the room and then drew up sharply. - -"There's myself, too. I suppose I deserve some consideration?" - -"Indeed yes." - -"Then go on with your duty--that's all I ask of you." - -With a thrill of relief Stowell rose to go. But oh, misery of the -heart, he had kept his most searching objection to the last. - -"There is somebody else, your Excellency." - -"Who else?" asked the Governor, laying down the pipe he had taken up. - -"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 - -"Victor, I have something to tell you," said Fenella. - -"Yes?" - -They were in the library. She was looking feverish; he was feeling -ashamed, embarrassed and afraid. - -"I have found out who was the friend of that poor girl." - -He gazed at her without speaking. - -"It will be a great shock to you--it was Alick Gell." - -"No, no!" - -"I'm sorry, dear. I knew you would be unable to believe it. But -it's true--terribly true." - -Mrs. Quayle, the evening before, had said very little. Nobody had -called to see the girl while she stayed at her house, and nobody had -come to take her away. She, herself, had seen her off by the train, -and all the girl had told her was that she was going to a school at -Derby-Haven. - -"But that was enough for me," said Fenella. "This morning I went -down to Derby-Haven and found there was only one school there. It is -kept by two maiden ladies named Brown. Simple old things, very timid -and old-fashioned. They were thrown into terrible commotion by my -call, and having read the reports in the newspapers they were at -first afraid to say anything. But after I had promised that they -should not be mixed up in the matter in any way, I got them to speak. -Mr. Alick Gell had brought the girl to their house. He had paid for -her, and they had always looked upon him as her intended husband. So -it's a certainty, you see--a shocking certainty." - -Stowell was breathless. - -"But my dear Fenella," he said, "this is a mistake. You are drawing -a false inference...." - -But Fenella only shook her head. - -"Yes. I knew your loyalty to your friend would compel you to say so. -But what do you think? I have since found that the fact is common -knowledge." - -Returning in the train she had occupied a compartment with two -men--the strangest looking creatures she had ever seen in a -first-class carriage. One of them turned out to be the girl's -stepfather and the other a member of the House of Keys. - -"Cæsar Qualtrough?" - -"Cæsar? Yes, that was the name. They talked about the forthcoming -trial and didn't seem to mind my hearing them--perhaps wished me to. -The step-father (he spoke as if the whole case had been got up to -disgrace him) was complaining that he had not been called by either -side. But no matter, he would force himself upon the Court and -expose the real criminal--the Speaker's son. It was all a trick. -But it should not succeed. He would put the saddle on the right -horse, he would. And then they talked about you." - -"What .... what about me?" - -"That the report of your being too ill to sit was a lie. You were -not ill at all and never had been--the step-father knew better. You -were merely shirking your duty to save your friend in some way. But -that trick shouldn't succeed either, or the people should know what -Judges in the Isle of Man were. So you see you must sit on this -case, dear--if you are fit for it. You can't afford to have it said -that you have sacrificed your duty as a Judge to your personal -interests. At your first Court, too." - -Stowell was in torture. In spite of the Governor's warning, an -almost overpowering impulse came to him to confess, to make a clean -breast of everything, there and then, and once for all. - -"Fenella," he began (his breath was coming and going in gusts), "who -knows if the guilty man is Gell? It may be somebody else." - -"Who else can it be?" - -He tried to say "It is I," but hesitated--he could not shatter in a -word the whole world he lived in. At the next moment she was -praising his fidelity, which would not allow him to think ill of his -life-long friend. - -"But he has no such delicacy," she said. "Knowing what he knows he -is still going to defend the girl, and that's equal to defending -himself, isn't it? How shocking!" - -Stowell's shame at his moral cowardice reached the point of -abasement, and he dropped his head. Then, carried away by her own -pleading, Fenella put her arms about his neck, tenderly and -caressingly, and told him she knew well what a hard thing she was -asking him to do--to sit in judgment on his friend also, for that was -what it would come to. But she would love him for ever if he would -do it. It would be like the crown of all her hopes, the fulfilment -of all she had worked for, if in some way (he would know best how) a -poor girl who had sinned and suffered should have mercy shown to her, -and not be left alone in her shame, but have the partner of her sin -(no matter who he was or how near he came) standing side by side with -her. - -There was a moment of silence. Stowell was like a man groping in the -dark of a black midnight. At length a light seemed to dawn on him. -If he sat on this case he could save an innocent man at all events. - -"You _will_ sit, will you not?" - -"Yes." - -And then she kissed him. - - - -III - -Back at Ballamoar, Stowell found the Deemster's clerk waiting for him. - -It had taken Joshua three days to see Deemster Taubman, and when at -length he was admitted to the big man's presence he had found him in -bed, with his shaggy head and unshaven face on the pillow and his -lower extremities through the legs of a cane-bottomed chair which -supported his bed-clothes. - -"What? What's that?" he had roared. "Sit at the General Gaol? Go -back to your master and tell him I'm lying here in the tortures of -the damned, not able to put a foot to the ground." - -Stowell drew a long breath. Fate had spoken its last word! It was -now certain that he must sit on the case of Bessie Collister. - -His spirits rose and he began to see things more clearly. Had he not -exaggerated his own importance in this affair? He had been thinking -of his part in the forthcoming trial as if the issue of Bessie's fate -depended upon him. But not so. It depended upon the Jury. Guilty -or not Guilty,--he had nothing to do with that. Therefore, in the -deeper sense, Bessie would not be tried by him at all. Why had he -been frightening himself? - -Had a Judge, then, no power, no voice, no influence? Thank God, yes! -It was for the Judge to direct the jury on questions of law, to see -that they had a right understanding of it and that their verdict -corresponded with the evidence. What an important -function--especially in a case like this! What a mercy old Taubman -was unable to sit on it! - -He thought again of Bessie's position. Pitiful, most pitiful! But -the law was no Juggernaut, intended to crush the life out of a poor -unfortunate girl. Mercifully administered it was rather her -Sanctuary to which she might fly for refuge. And it should be -mercifully administered. - -Why not? Good heavens, why not? What wrong would it be to temper -Justice with mercy--even to strain the law a little in the prisoner's -favour? No one but himself would know. And if it were suspected -that he was showing favour to the prisoner, people would consider him -deserving of praise rather than censure for trying to snatch a young -and helpless creature from the clutches of a cruel old Statute. - -Besides, was it not one of the higher traditions of the bench that -the Judge was first Counsel for the accused? Judges had not always -acted on that principle. Some of them, in times past, had hunted -their wretched prisoners gallowswards with gibes. Taubman was still -like that. He thought sympathy with such women as Bessie Collister -was sentimental weakness, that to deal mercifully with them was to -encourage them, and thereby do a wrong to public morality. - -"God bless me, yes! _I_ know Taubman," he told himself. - -Then he thought of Gell. Whatever Bessie might be, Gell was -innocent, and after the girl herself the greatest sufferer. Should -he suffer further from an unfounded suspicion? God forbid! It would -be his duty as Judge to see that no blustering person in Court -bellowed accusations which, once out, might stick to an innocent man -for the rest of his natural life. - -After that he thought of himself. The only risk he ran was from -Bessie's despair. If Gell were falsely accused she might break -silence and tell the truth to save him. What a vista! Bessie, Gell, -himself, Fenella! But no, that should not be! The law was no -thumb-screw; a law-court was no torture-chamber. It would be his -duty as Judge to protect the girl against any form of legal -provocation. - -Last of all, with a thrill of the heart, he thought of Fenella. She -had drawn him on, constrained and compelled him to promise to sit on -Bessie's case. But she had only wished, out of the greatness of her -pity, to see that the poor girl should have a just trial. She should -too! It would be his duty as Judge to see to that. - -"Good Lord, yes! And what a mercy the case is not coming before -Taubman." - -Thus in the scorching fire of his temptation he tried to stand erect -in the belief that he had sunk himself in his high office--that he -was about to become the champion and first servant of Justice. But -well he knew in his secret heart that in the fierce struggle which -had been going on within him between the Judge and the Man, the Man -had conquered. - -During the next two days he worked day and night in the library, -looking up authorities and verifying references. On the third day he -set out in his car for Castletown. Janet saw him off in the mist of -early morning. He was very pale; he had eaten scarcely any -breakfast. She looked anxiously after him until he disappeared -behind the trees. There was the odour of fresh earth in the air and -the rooks were calling. It was like an echo from the past. - -When he arrived at Castle Rushen there was a crowd at the gate, and -all hats were off to him, as they had been to his father, when he -passed through the Judge's private entrance. - -Inside the courtyard, where the steps go up to the public part of the -Court-house, there was another crowd and a certain commotion. The -police were pushing back a tumultuous person who in a raucous voice -was demanding to be admitted although the place was full. - -It was Dan Baldromma. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - -THE TRIAL - -For a good hour before the arrival of the Deemster, Castle Rushen had -been full of activity. In the Court-house itself, warm with sunshine -from the lantern light, Robbie Stephen, the chief Coroner of the -island, who looked like a shaggy old sheep-dog, had been selecting -candidates for the Jury-box. - -Seventy-two of them had been summoned, six from each of twelve -parishes, and now he was reducing the number to thirty-two, twelve -for the Jury and twenty more to meet the contingency of arbitrary -challenging. - -Everybody claimed exemption, but the Coroner listened to none. -Standing back to the empty bench, swelling with importance and with -his seventy-two men huddled together like sheep at one side of the -chamber, he called them out at his discretion and with a wave of the -hand passed them over to the other side to wait for the trial. - -"Now, then, Willie Kinnish, thou'rt a good man; over with thee." -"No, no, Mr. Stephen, you must excuse me to-day, Sir." "Tut, tut! -You Maughold men haven't served on a jury these seven years." "But I -have fifty head of sheep going to Ramsey mart this morning, and -what's to pay my half year's rent if I'm not there to sell them?" -"Chut, man! Lave that to herself. She's thy better half, isn't she?" - -Meantime, in the chill corridors underground the jailer and his -turnkey were rattling their keys, opening the doors of the cells and -shouting to the prisoners to make ready for the Court. - -"Patrick Kelly! Charles Quiggin! Nancy Kegeen! John Corlett! -Cæsar Crow! Robert Quine! Elizabeth Corteen!" - -Hearing her name called, Bessie, having no fear, got up from her -plank bed, and when Mrs. Mylrea, the woman warder, with her short, -loud, difficult breathing, brought back her cloak and fur hat, she -put them on leisurely. - -"Quick, girl!" said the warder. "You don't want to keep the Dempster -waiting, do you?" - -Bessie laughed, but made no answer. At the next moment she was in -the darkness of the corridor, walking at the end of a short -procession of other prisoners, and at the next she was drawn up, with -her prison companions, into the blinding sunlight of a little paved -quadrangle which was surrounded by high walls and had the sound of -the sea coming down into it from the free world outside. - -By this time the Court-house upstairs was in a state of yet greater -activity. The thirty-two possible jurymen, having reconciled -themselves to being "trapped," were standing under the jury-box, -talking of the weather which was bringing the crops on rapidly and -would increase the price of early potatoes. Inspectors of police -were bustling about; Joshua Scarff was laying a green portfolio with -paper, pens and ink, on the bench in front of the Deemster's scarlet -armchair, and a number of advocates were coming in laughing by a door -which communicated with their room off the ramparts. - -The last of the advocates to enter was Alick Gell. He took a seat -immediately in front of the empty dock, looking pale and worn and -scarcely able to hold the papers which he carried in his nervous -hands. A little later the Attorney-General, who was to prosecute for -the Crown, came in with a grave face, followed by old Hudgeon, his -junior, with a sour one. And shortly before eleven (the hour -appointed for the beginning of the trial) a lady was brought by an -Inspector from the door to the Judge's room and seated beside Gell in -front of the dock. It was Fenella. - -Then the outer doors to the court-yard were thrown open and the -public admitted. They rushed and tore their way into the -Court-house, men and women together, talking and laughing loudly. -The big clock in the Castle tower was heard to strike, and the -Inspector, standing near the dais, cried in a loud voice, - -"Silence in Court!" - -The babel of voice subsided and everybody rose who had been seated. -Then the Court came in and took their seats on the bench of -judgment--the Governor in his soldier's uniform, and Stowell and the -Clerk of the Rolls in their Judges' wigs and gowns. - -It was remarked that the new Deemster looked ill and almost old. A -wave of sympathy went out to him from the first. It was whispered -among the spectators that he had come straight from a sick-bed, and -that the Governor insisted on his presence, saying he must have him -"dead or alive." - -"Coroner, fence the Court," said the Governor, and then old Stephen, -who had already taken his place in the Coroner's box, raising the -pitch of his voice, recited the ancient formula: - - -"_I do hereby fence this Court in the name of our Sovereign Lord the -King. I charge that no person shall quarrel, bawl or molest the -audience, that all persons shall answer to their names when called. -I charge this audience to witness that this Court is fenced; I charge -this audience to witness that this Court is fenced; I charge this -whole audience to witness that this Court is fenced._" - - -Everybody knew that it was for the Deemster to speak next, but for a -sensible moment he did not do so. Then he said, almost beneath his -breath, - -"Let the prisoners be brought in." - -In the continued silence there came the sound of bustle outside, with -the patter of feet on the pavement below, and then a shuffling of -steps on the stairs. The prisoners were coming up, but the police -had difficulty in clearing a passage for them. The voice of the -jailer, Tommy Vondy, was heard to cry, "Make way!" There was a -period of waiting. At one moment the people in court caught the -sound from the staircase of a scarcely believable thing--the laugh of -a woman? Who could she be? - -At length the prisoners were brought in, pushed through the throng -that stood thick at the back, and hurried into the dock, which was -like a long pew behind the circular seats of the advocates and -directly in front of the bench. - -There were seven of them, a sorry company, two women and five men, -with nothing in common save the pallid, almost pasty complexions -which had come of the dank air they had been living in. - -There was another moment of silence. It was time for the Deemster to -take the pleas, but again he did not speak immediately. He had the -look of a man who was struggling against physical weakness. The -blood rushed to his pale face and as quickly disappeared. "He's not -fit for it to-day," people whispered. - -But at the next moment, in a low voice, and with the appearance of -one who was making an effort to command his strength, the Deemster -was reading the indictments. - -He took the prisoners in the order in which they stood before him, -beginning with the one on the extreme left. He was a very young man, -almost a boy, with a face that might have been that of his mother -when she was a girl. His name was Quiggin; he had been a bank clerk -and was charged with embezzlement. He pleaded Guilty and looked down -as if he expected the earth to open under his feet. - -The next was a gross, fat, middle-aged woman with red cheeks and many -heavy gold rings on her stubby fingers. Her name was Kegeen, and she -was charged with robbing drunken sailors in a house she had kept in -an alley off the south quay. In a torrent of words she denied -everything and accused the police of black-mailing her. - -The last was Bessie Collister and the Deemster paused perceptibly -when he came to her. - -She had carried herself straight when she entered the Court and was -now sitting with her head thrown back. But, seeing that of all the -prisoners she was the one on whom the eyes of the spectators were -fastened, she had reached up her hands to a veil which was wrapped -about her fur hat and drawn it down over her face. Observing this at -the last moment, and thinking it the cause of the Deemster's silence, -the jailer said in an audible whisper, - -"Put up your fall, Bessie." - -She did so, disclosing her thin white face and large eyes. And then -in a voice so low that it would have been scarcely audible but for -the strained silence in the court-house, the Deemster said, - -"Elizabeth Corteen, stand up." - -Bessie rose without embarrassment and fixed her eyes on the Deemster. -And then he charged her. - -"It is charged against you that on or about the fifth day of -April--in the parish of Ballaugh, in the Isle of Man, feloniously, -wilfully and of your malice aforethought, you did kill and murder a -certain male child, contrary to the form of the Statute in such case -made and provided, and against the peace of our Sovereign Lord the -King, his Crown and dignity. How say you, are you guilty or not -guilty?" - -Without hesitation or halting, looking straight into the eyes of the -Judge and speaking in a voice so clear that it resounded through the -silent Court-house, Bessie answered, - -"Not Guilty." - -Her tone and bearing had gone against her. "The huzzy!" whispered -one of the female spectators. "She might have more shame for her -position, anyway. And did you see the way the forward piece looked -up at the Deemster?" - - - -II - -It was not until Stowell had stepped on to the bench that he had -realized what he had done for himself. - -When he had asked for the prisoners to be brought in, and Bessie had -come at the end of the short line and taken her place in the dock -with the constable behind her, he had been seized with a feeling of -choking shame. - -That woman, looking so much older, with pallid cheeks sucked in by -suffering, could she be the same? All the barrage he had built up -for the protection of his position as Judge seemed to have gone down -at the first sight of the girl's face. What a scoundrel he had been! - -From that moment a whirl of confused emotions had held possession of -him. When the time came to charge the prisoner he had felt as if he -were reading out his own indictment. And when she had looked up -fearlessly into his face and pleaded Not Guilty it was the same as if -she were accusing himself. - -After that he had a sense of acting as a detached person. In a -strange voice, which did not seem to be his own, he heard himself -asking the Attorney-General which case he wished to take first. The -Attorney answered, "The murder case," and after the Clerk of the -Rolls had read out the names of the jurymen, and they had taken their -places in the jury-box, he heard himself, in the same strange voice, -swearing them on the holy evangelists to "a true verdict give, -according to the evidence and the laws of this isle." - -When he turned his eyes back, Bessie was alone in the dock, save for -the woman warder (with blue lips and a look of suffering) who sat at -the farther end of it. She was still looking fearlessly up at him, -and in front of her sat two others whose eyes were also fixed on his -face--Alick Gell and Fenella. At that sight a terrible feeling took -hold of him--that these three were the real judges in this trial and -he was the prisoner at the bar. - -He did not recover from the shock of this feeling until the -Attorney-General began on the prosecution. - -The Attorney, usually so kindly, was bitterly severe. The time had -gone by when it could be said with truth that crime was practically -unknown in the Isle of Man. Here, as elsewhere, crimes of all kinds -were only too common, and not least common was the crime of -infanticide. - -The present case was one of peculiar atrocity. The prisoner was a -young woman who might be said, not uncharitably, to have inherited a -lawless disposition. After a reckless girlhood she had disappeared -from her home, for no apparent reason, rather less than a year ago -and remained away (nobody knew where or in what company) until a few -weeks ago. She had then been ill and was put to bed in a condition -which gave only too much reason for the belief that she was about to -become a mother. That was on the fifth of April and two days later -the body of a new-born infant had been found in a remote place, -wrapped up and hidden away. - -It would be established by witnesses that the infant had been born -alive, that it had died by suffocation, and that the prisoner -(incredible as it might appear) had been seen to bury it. - -"Such," said the Attorney-General, "are the facts of this most -unhappy case, and though the prisoner pleads Not Guilty, the evidence -which I shall now call will leave no doubt that the child was her -child and that it died by her hands. Therefore I ask (as well for -the sake of humanity as for the good name of this island) that the -Jury shall give such a verdict against the prisoner as will act as a -deterrent on the heartless women, unworthy of the name of mothers, -who, to save themselves from the just consequences of their evil -conduct, are taking the innocent lives which under God they gave." - -There had been a tense atmosphere in the Court-house during the -Attorney-General's speech, and when it was over there were -half-suppressed murmurs, hostile to the prisoner. - -Looking towards the dock Stowell saw that Bessie was quite unmoved, -but that Fenella, in front of her, was flushed and hot, and Gell's -lower lip was trembling. Stowell was conscious of a complicated -struggle going on within him and then of a blind and headlong -resolution. He was going to save that girl--he was going to save her -at all costs! - -The first witness was the constable, a middle-aged man with a sour -expression. After he had been sworn by the Deemster, the -Attorney-General examined him. - -His name was Cain and he was constable for the parish in which the -crime had been committed. On the morning of April the seventh he -received an information from Old Will Skillicorne of Baldromma-beg -that something had been seen under the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_. He had -gone there and found the body of a new-born child, and had taken it -to Dr. Clucas, who had made an examination. Later the same day he -had taken statements from Old Will and his wife, relating to the -prisoner, and had sent them up to the Chief Constable of the island -at Douglas. The Chief Constable had ordered him to make a -house-to-house visitation through the parish to see if any other -woman might have been the mother of the child. He had done so with -the result that the prisoner was the only person who had come under -suspicion. She was then ill in bed, but in due course he had -arrested her, and charged her before the High Bailiff, who had -committed her for trial at that court--sending her to the hospital in -the meantime. - -With obvious nervousness Gell rose to cross-examine the witness. - -"How far is it from the prisoner's home to the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_?" - -"Half a mile, maybe." - -"What kind of road would you call it?" - -"Rough and thorny, most of it." - -Gell sat with a look of satisfaction, and the Deemster leaned forward. - -"Constable," he said, "when you made your house-to-house visitation -did you go beyond the boundary of your parish?" - -"No, your Honour." - -"Where is the boundary?" - -"The glen is the boundary--the western side of it, Sir." - -"How near to the western boundary are the nearest houses in the next -parish?" - -"Four hundred yards, perhaps." - -"How many of them are there?" - -"Fifteen or twenty, your Honour." - -"Yet, though you visited the prisoner's home, which was half-a-mile -from the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_, you did not visit--you were not told to -visit--the fifteen or twenty houses which were only four hundred -yards away?" - -"They were not in my parish, your Honour." - -There was audible drawing of breath in court. Fenella, who had been -reaching forward, dropped back, and Gell's pale face was smiling. - -The next to be called was Dr. Clucas. His hands were twitching and -his rubicund face was moist with perspiration--he was obviously an -unwilling witness. - -Yes, when the constable brought the body of the child he made a -post-mortem examination. Applying the usual medical tests he came to -the conclusion that the child had been born alive and had died of -suffocation. On the morning of the following day he had been called -in to see the prisoner. She was suffering from extreme exhaustion--a -condition not inconsistent with the idea of recent confinement. - -Gell, gathering strength but still agitated, rose again. - -"How long had the child lived?" - -"An hour or two, probably." - -"And how long had it been dead?" - -"Twenty-four to thirty hours at the outside." - -"Is it your experience that within twenty-four to thirty hours after -confinement a woman can walk half-a-mile along a rough and thorny -road and carry a burden?" - -"It certainly is not, Sir." - -Gell sat with a piteous smile of triumph on his pale face, and the -Deemster leaned forward again. - -"Doctor," he said, "you speak of applying the usual medical -tests--are they entirely reliable?" - -"They are not infallible, your Honour. They have been known to fail." - -"Then this child may have breathed and yet not had a separate -existence?" - -"It may--it is just possible, Sir." - -"And the unhappy mother, whoever she may be, though obviously guilty -of concealing its birth, may not have been guilty of the much greater -crime of killing it?" - -"That's so .... she may not, your Honour." - -There was a still more audible drawing of breath in court when the -doctor stood down. Fenella's eyes were shining and Gell's were -sparkling with excitement. - -The next witness was Bridget Skillicorne. She wore a big poke bonnet -and a Paisley shawl which smelt strongly of lavender. She was very -voluble (provoking ripples of laughter by her broad Manx tongue) and -the Attorney-General had more than he could do to restrain her. - -Aw, 'deed yes, she remembered the night of the sixth-seventh April, -for wasn't it the night she had a cow down with the gripes? Colic -they were calling it, but wutching it was, and she believed in her -heart she knew who had wutched the craythur. So she sent her ould -man over to the Ballawhaine for a taste of something to take off the -evil eye. And while she was sitting in the cowhouse itself, waiting -for the man to come home (it was terr'ble slow the men were, both in -their heads and their legs), she saw the light of a fire that had -blown up on the mountains. "Will it reach the hay in my haggard?" -she thought, and out she went to look. And, behold ye, what did she -see but the glen as light as day and a woman on her knees putting -something under the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_. Who was she? The Collister -girl of course. Sure? Sarten sure! And as soon as it was day she -went down to the stone to see what the girl had left there. What was -it? A baby--what else? Lying there in a scarf, poor bogh, like a -little white mollag. - -"What's mollag?" (Bridget's Manx had gone beyond the Attorney, but -the jurymen were smiling.) "Ask them ones--_they_ know." - -Gell, with a newspaper-cutting in his hand, rose to cross-examine the -old woman. - -"You and your husband are sub-tenants of the prisoner's step-father, -isn't that so?" - -"Certainly we are--you ought to know that much yourself, Sir." - -"I see you told the High Bailiff you were on bad terms with your -landlord." - -"Bad terms, is it? I wouldn't bemane myself with being on any terms -at all with the like." - -"He threatened to turn you out of your croft at Hollantide, didn't -he?" - -"He did, the dirt!" - -"And you said you'd see him thrown out before you?" - -"It's like I did, and it's like I will, too, for if your father, the -Spaker...." - -The Attorney-General rose in alarm. "Is it suggested by these -questions that the witness has an animus against the prisoner's -family and is conspiring to convict her?" - -"That," said Gell, in a ringing voice, "is precisely what is -suggested." - -"What?" cried Bridget, bobbing her poke bonnet across at Gell. "Is -it a liar you're making me out? Me, that has known you since you -were a loblolly-boy in a jacket?" - -The Deemster intervened to pacify the old woman, and then took her in -hand himself. - -"Bridget," he said, "how far is it from your house on the brews down -to the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_? Is it three or four hundred yards, think -you?" - -"Maybe it is. But it's yourself knows as well as I do, your Honour." - -"Is your sight still so good that you can see a woman to know her at -that distance?" - -"Aw, well, not so bad anyway. And then wasn't it as bright as day, -Sir?" - -"Listen. This court-house is not more than fifteen yards across, and -less than ten to any point from the box in which you stand. Do you -think you could recognise anybody you know in this audience?" - -"Anybody I know? Recognise? Why not, your Honour?" - -"You know Cain the constable?" - -"'Deed I do, and his mother before him. A dacent man enough, but -stupid for all...." - -"Well, he is one of the three constables who are now standing at this -end of the jury-box--which of them is he?" - -"Which? Do you say which, your Honour?" said Bridget, screwing up -her wrinkled face. "Why, the off-one, surely." - -There was a burst of irrepressible laughter in court--Bridget had -chosen wrongly. - -The next witness was old Will Skillicorne. He was wearing his chapel -clothes, with black kid gloves, large and baggy, and was carrying a -silk hat that was as straight and long and almost as brown as a -length of stove-pipe. When called upon to swear he said he believed -the old Book said "Swear not at all," and when asked what he was he -answered that he believed he was "a man of God." - -Aw, yes, he believed he remembered the night of the six-seventh of -April, and he was returning home from an errand into Andreas when the -prisoner passed him coming down the glen. - -"At what time would that be?" asked Gell. - -"Two or three in the morning, I belave." - -"Then it would be still quite dark?" - -"I was carrying my lantern, I belave." - -"What was the prisoner doing when she passed you?" - -"Covering her eyes with shame, I belave, as well she might be." - -"Then you did not see her face?" - -"I belave I did, though." - -"Believe! Believe! Did you or did you not--yes or no?" - -"I belave I did, Sir." - -"Mr. Skillicorne," said the Deemster, "you attach importance to your -belief, I see." - -The old man drew himself up, and answered in his preaching tone, - -"It's the rock of my salvation, Sir." - -"Your wife told us that your errand into Andreas was to see the -Ballawhaine about your sick cow. Is that the well-known -witch-doctor?" - -"I .... I .... I belave it is, Sir." - -"And what did he give you?" - -"A .... a wisp of straw and a few good words, Sir." - -"Then you believe in that too--that a wisp of straw and a few good -words...." - -But the Deemster could not finish--a ripple of laughter that had been -running through the Court having risen to a roar which he did not -attempt to repress. "He has made up his mind about this case," said -someone. - -The Attorney-General, who was looking hot and embarrassed, called the -last of his witnesses. This was the house-doctor at the hospital, -the young man with the thin hair and pugnacious mouth. - -Asked if he remembered the prisoner being brought into hospital he -said "Perfectly." Had he formed any opinion of her condition? He -had. What was it? That she had been confined less than five days -before. What made him think so? First her unwillingness to be -examined and then.... - -"She refused?" - -"She did, your Honour, and threatened violence, but she became -unconscious soon afterwards and then...." - -"Stop!" said the Deemster, and looking down at the Attorney he asked -if the High Bailiff, in committing the prisoner, had ordered that she -should be examined. - -The Attorney-General shook his head helplessly, whereupon the -Deemster, with a severe face, turned back to the witness. - -"You are a qualified medical practitioner?" - -"I am," said the witness, straightening himself. - -"Then of course you know that for a doctor to examine a woman against -her will and without a magistrate's order is to commit an offence for -which he may be severely punished?" - -The pugnacious mouth opened like a dying oyster. - -"Y-es, your Honour." - -"Therefore you did not examine her?" - -"N-o, your Honour." - -"And you know nothing of her condition?" - -"No----" - -"Stand down, Sir." - -There was a commotion in the court-house. The prisoner's face was -still calm, but Fenella's was aglow and Gell's was ablaze. - -"Mr. Attorney," said the Deemster quietly, "have you any further -evidence?" - -The Attorney, who had been whispering hotly to Hudgeon, said, - -"No, there was a nurse who might have given conclusive evidence, but, -thinking the doctor's would be sufficient, my colleague has allowed -her to leave the island. No, that is my case, your Honour." - -Stowell, secretly glad at the turn things had taken, was about to put -an end to the trial, when Gell, intoxicated by his success, leapt up -and said, - -"I might ask the Court to dismiss this case immediately on the ground -that there is nothing to put before the jury. But the wicked and -cruel charge may follow the accused all her life, therefore I -propose, with the Court's permission, to waive my right of reply and -call such positive evidence of her innocence as will enable her to -leave this court without a stain on her character." - -"The fool!" thought Stowell. But just at that moment the clock of -the Castle struck one, and the Governor said, - -"The Court will adjourn for luncheon and resume at two." - -As Stowell stepped off the bench his eye caught a glimpse of the -inscription on a brass plate which had lately been affixed to the -wall under his father's portrait-- - - - "_Justice is the most sacred thing on earth._" - - -His head dropped; he felt like a traitor. - - - -III - -When the trial was resumed the Attorney-General had not returned to -court, so Hudgeon represented the Crown. He was offensive from the -first, but Gell, whose spirits had risen perceptibly, was not to be -put out. - -The witness he called first was Mrs. Collister. The old mother had -to be helped into the witness-box. Her poor face was wet with recent -tears, and in administering the oath Stowell hardly dared to look at -her. Remembering the admissions she had made to him at Ballamoar he -knew that she had come to give false evidence in her daughter's cause. - -She made a timid, reluctant and sometimes inaudible witness. More -than once Hudgeon complained that he could not hear, and Gell, with -great tenderness, asked her to speak louder. - -"Speak up, Mrs. Collister. There's nothing to fear. The Court will -protect you," he said. But Stowell, who saw what was hidden behind -the veil of the old woman's soul, knew it was another and higher -audience she was afraid of. - -With many pauses she repeated, in answer to Gell's questions, the -story she had told before--that her daughter had returned home ill on -the fifth of April, that she had put her to bed in the dairy-loft and -that the girl had never left it until Cain the constable came to -arrest her. - -"You saw her day and night while she was at your house?" - -"Aw, yes, Sir, last thing at night and first thing in the morning." - -"And you know nothing that conflicts with what she says--that she -never had a child and therefore could not have killed it?" - -"'Deed no, Sir, nothing whatever." - -She had answered in a tremulous voice which the Deemster found deeply -affecting. Once or twice she had lifted her weak eyes to his with a -pitiful look of supplication, and he had had to turn his own eyes -away. "I should do it myself," he thought. - -"And now, Mrs. Collister," said Gell, "if you were here this morning -you heard what the Attorney-General said--that your daughter had been -of a lawless disposition and had run away from home without apparent -reason. Is there any truth in that?" - -"Bessie was always a good girl, Sir. It was lies the gentleman was -putting on her." - -"Is the prisoner your husband's daughter?" - -"No, Sir," the old woman faltered, "his step-daughter." - -"Is it true that her step-father has always been hard on her?" - -The old woman hesitated, then faltered again, "Middling hard anyway." - -"Don't be afraid. Remember, your daughter's liberty, perhaps her -life, are in peril. Tell the Jury what happened on the day she left -home." - -Then nervously, fearfully, looking round the Court-house as if in -terror of being seen or heard, the old woman told the story of the -first Saturday in August. - -"So your husband deliberately shut the girl out of the house in the -middle of the night, knowing well she had nowhere else to go to?" - -"Yes, if you plaze, Sir." - -"It's a lie--a scandalous lie!" cried somebody at the back of the -court. - -"Who's that?" asked the Governor, and he was told by the Inspector of -Police (who was already laying hold of the interrupter) that it was -the husband of the witness. - -"A respectable man's character is being sworn away," cried Dan. "Put -me in the box and I'll swear it's a lie." - -In the tumult that followed the Deemster raised his hand. - -"This Court has been fenced," he said severely, "and if anybody -attempts to brawl here...." - -"Then let me be sworn. I'm only a plain Manxman, blood and bone, but -I can tell the truth as well as some that make a bigger mouth." - -"Behave yourself!" - -"Give me a chance to save my character and fix the disgrace of these -bad doings where it belongs." - -"I give you fair warning...." - -"Put the saddle on the right horse, Dempster. He's near enough to -yourself, anyway." - -"Silence!" - -"Why doesn't he come out into the open, not hide behind the skirts of -a girl with a by-child?" - -"Remove that man to the cells, and keep him there until the trial is -over." - -"What?" cried Dan, in a loud voice. - -"Remove him!" cried the Deemster, in a voice still louder, and at the -next moment, Dan, shaking his fist at the prisoner and cursing her, -was hustled out of Court. - -When the tempestuous scene was over and silence had been restored, -the witness was trembling and covering her face in her hands and -Hudgeon was on his feet to cross-examine her. - -"I think your father was the late John Corteen, the Methodist?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"He was a good man, wasn't he?" - -"As good a man as ever walked the world, Sir." - -"He had a reputation for strict truthfulness--isn't that so?" - -"'Deed it is, Sir. The old Dempster would take his word without -asking him to swear to it." - -"You were much attached to him, were you not?" - -The old woman wiped her eyes, which were wet but shining. - -"That's truth enough, Sir." - -"And now he's dead and I daresay you sometimes pray for the time when -you'll see him again?" - -"Morning and night, every day of my life since I closed the man's -dying eyes for him." - -The advocate turned his gleaming eyes to the Jury and the side of his -powerful face to the witness. - -"You are a Methodist yourself, aren't you?" - -"Such as I am, Sir." - -"And as a Methodist you are taught to believe that truth is sacred -and that a lie (no matter under what temptation told) is a thing of -the devil and no good can come of it?" - -The old woman faltered something that was barely heard, and then the -big advocate turned quickly round on her, and said in a stern voice, -looking full into her timid eyes, - -"Mrs. Collister, as you are a Christian woman and expect to meet your -father some day, will you swear that when your daughter returned home -on the fifth of April you did not see at a glance that she was about -to become a mother of a child?" - -The old woman shuddered as if she had been smitten by an invisible -hand, breathed audibly, tried to speak, stopped, then closed her -eyes, swayed a little and laid hold of the bar in front of her. - -"Inspector, see to the witness quickly," cried the Deemster. - -At the next moment the old woman was being helped out of the -witness-box and borne towards the door, where, realising what she had -done for her daughter, she broke into a fit of weeping, which rent -the silence of the Court until the door had closed behind her. - -"In that cry," said the advocate, "the Jury has heard the answer to -my question. It is proof enough that the prisoner had a child, and -that her mother knew it." - -"If so, it is proof of something else," cried Gell (he had leapt to -his feet and was speaking in a thrilling voice), "that a strong man -can find it in his heart to use his great forensic skill to crush a -poor weak woman who is fighting for the life of her child. All his -life through he has been doing the same thing--driving people into -prison and dragging them to the gallows. He has made his name and -grown rich and fat on it. God save me from a life like that! I am -only a young lawyer and he is an old one, but may I live in poverty -and die in the streets rather than outrage my humanity and degrade my -profession by using the lures of the procurator and the arts of the -hangman." - -There was a sensation in Court. One of the younger advocates was -heard to say, "My God, who thought Alick Gell was a fool?" And -another who remembered the "Fanny" case in the Douglas police-courts, -said, "He's got a bit of his own back, anyway." - -When the commotion subsided, Hudgeon, with a face of scarlet, -appealed to the Court: - -"Your Honour, I ask your protection against this outrageous slander." - -"Since you appeal to me," said the Deemster (whose own face was -aflame), "I can only say that you deserved every word of it." - -Hudgeon tried to speak, but could not, his voice being choked in his -throat. And seeing that the Attorney-General had come back to Court -(he had just returned with Cain the constable, who was carrying a -parcel) he picked up his bag and fled. - -Gell's time had come at last--the great moment he had been waiting -for so long. Although he had been shaken for an instant by Mrs. -Collister's silence he was not afraid now. He was going to play his -last and greatest card--put the prisoner in the box to demolish for -ever the monstrous accusation that had been intended to ruin the life -of an innocent woman. The Deemster trembled as he saw Gell look -round the Court with a confident smile before he called his witness. - -Bessie, whose big eyes had flamed with fury during her mother's -cross-examination, passed with a firm step from the dock to the -witness-box. In answer to Gell's questions she repeated the evidence -she had given before the High Bailiff, only more emphatically and -with a certain note of defiance. - -When the Attorney-General rose to cross-examine her, it was observed -that he, too, had an air of confidence, as if something had become -known to him since morning. - -"Do you adhere to your plea?" he asked. - -"Indeed I do. Why shouldn't I?" said Bessie. - -"Think again before it is too late. Do you still say that you have -never had a child, and therefore never killed and never buried one?" - -"Certainly I say so," said Bessie. "I don't know what you are -talking of." - -"Constable," said the Attorney, turning to Cain, "open your parcel." - -There was a whispering among the spectators in Court, while the -constable was cutting the string and opening the brown-paper parcel. -The Deemster was shuddering, Gell's lower lip was trembling, and -Fenella (who was sitting, as before, in front of the dock) was -breathing deeply. The prisoner alone was unmoved. The sun (it was -now going round to the West) was shining down on her from the lantern -light. It lit up with pitiful vividness her thin white face with its -look of confidence and contempt. - -"Do you know what this is?" asked the Attorney, holding up a portion -of a white silk scarf. - -Bessie started as if she had seen a ghost. Then, recovering herself -and turning her eyes away, she said, remembering what Gell had told -her, - -"I know nothing about it." - -"You have never seen it before?" - -"I know nothing about it." - -The Attorney-General put the scarf outstretched on the table in front -of him, and held up a narrower strip of the same material. - -"Do you know anything about this, then?" - -Bessie gasped and was silent for a moment. Then she said again, but -with a stammer, - -"I know nothing about it." - -"Will you swear that it never belonged to you?" - -A stabbing memory came back to Bessie. She remembered what she had -heard about "a remnant" when the constables were ranging her room, -and seeing no way of escape by further denial she said, - -"Oh yes, I remember it now. I found it on the road when I was on my -way home and bound it about my hat to keep it from blowing off in the -wind." - -The silence which had fallen upon the Court was broken by an audible -drawing of breath. Gell, who had risen and leaned forward, dropped -back. - -"But if you found it on the road, how do you account for the fact -that it has your name stamped on the corner of it? See--_Bessie_." - -Bessie was speechless for another moment. Then she said, - -"Bessie is a common name, isn't it?" - -"But how do you account for the further fact that these two pieces -fit each other exactly?" asked the Attorney--laying the narrow strip -by the broader portion. - -Bessie became dizzy and confused. - -"I can't account for it. I know nothing about it," she said. - -The Deemster, who was breathing with difficulty, asked the Attorney -what he suggested by the exhibits. The Attorney answered, - -"The larger piece, your Honour, is the scarf which the body of the -child was found in, while the narrower one was discovered in the -prisoner's room, and the suggestion is that, taken together, they -form a chain of convincing evidence that she is guilty of the crime -with which she is charged." - -Gell leapt to his feet. He had recognised the scarf as a present of -his own on Bessie's last birthday, and his great faith in the girl -was breaking down, yet in a husky voice he said, - -"Give her time, your Honour. She may have some explanation." - -The Deemster signified assent, and then Gell, stepping closer to the -witness-box, said, - -"Be calm and think again. Don't answer hastily. Everything depends -on your reply. Are you sure the scarf was not yours and that you -lost the larger piece of it? Think carefully, I beg, I pray." - -The advocate was losing himself, yet nobody protested. At length -Bessie, with the wild eyes of a captured animal, broke into violent -cries. - -"Oh, why are you all torturing me? Wasn't it enough to torture my -mother? I know nothing about it." - -Gell dropped back to his seat. There was a profound silence. The -great clock of the Castle was heard to strike four. The Deemster -felt as if every stroke were beating on his brain. At length he said, - -"A new fact has been introduced by the prosecution and it is only -right that the defence should have time to consider it. It is now -four o'clock. The Court will adjourn until morning. It is not for -me to anticipate the evidence which the accused may give when the -Court resumes, but if in the interval she can remember anything which -will put a new light on the serious fact the Attorney-General has -just disclosed, nothing she has said in her agitation to-day shall -prejudice what she may say to-morrow." - -He paused for a moment and then (with difficulty maintaining an equal -voice) he added, - -"It sometimes happens that a young woman in the position of the -accused mistakes concealment for the much more serious crime of -murder." - -He paused again and then said, - -"Whatever the facts in this unhappy case may prove to be, if I may -speak to that mystery of a woman's heart which is truly said to be -sacred even in its shame, I will say, 'Tell the truth, the whole -truth; it will be best for you, best for everybody.'" - -"The Court stands adjourned until eleven in the morning," said the -Governor. "Meantime, let the advocate for the defence see the -accused and give her the benefit of his legal advice and assistance. -Jailer, look to the Jury that they are properly lodged in the Castle, -and see that they hold no communication with persons outside." - - - -IV - -The Judges, the advocates and the spectators were gone, and Gell was -alone in the Court-house. He was like a drowning man in an empty -sea, clinging to an upturned boat. - -Time after time he gathered up his papers and put them in his bag, -then took them out again and spread them before him. At length, -rising with a haggard face, he went downstairs with a heavy step. - -At the door to the private entrance he came upon Fenella, who was -waiting for her father. Her eyes were red as if she had been -weeping, but they were blazing with anger also. - -"Are you going down to her as the Governor suggested?" - -"I cannot! I dare not!" he replied. And then, as if struck by a -sudden thought he said, "But won't you go?" - -"You wish me to speak to her instead of you?" - -"Won't you? If she has anything to say she'll say it more freely to -a woman." - -Fenella looked at him for a moment. - -"Very well, I'll go if you are willing to take the consequences." - -"The consequences? To me? That's nothing--nothing whatever. Go to -her, for God's sake. I'll wait here for you." - -In the Deemster's room the Governor was putting on his military -overcoat. He was not too well satisfied with himself, and as the -only means of self-justification he was nursing a dull anger against -Stowell. - -"Well, we can only go on with it. There's nothing else to do now. -Unfortunate--damnably unfortunate!" - -A few minutes later, Stowell, sitting at the table in wig and gown, -heard the clash of steel outside (a company of the regiment quartered -in the town were acting as a guard of honour) and saw through the -window the Governor's big blue landau passing over the bridge that -crossed the harbour. - -Gell would be with Bessie in her cell by this time. She was guilty. -He must see that she was guilty. What a shock! What a -disillusionment! All his high-built faith in the girl wrecked and -broken! - -At last he unrobed and went down the empty staircase. On opening the -door to the court-yard he was startled to see Gell pacing to and fro -with downcast head among the remains of some tombs of old kings which -lay about in the rank grass. - -"Ah, is it you?" said Gell, looking up at the sound of Stowell's -footsteps. "You were good to her, old fellow. I can't help thanking -you." - -Stowell mumbled some reply and then said he thought Gell would have -been with Bessie. - -"I daren't go," said Gell. "But Fenella has gone instead of me." - -"Fenella?" - -Stowell felt as if something were creeping between his skin and his -flesh. Fenella and Bessie--those two and the dread secret! - -"My poor girl!" said Gell. "If she has anything to say--to -confess--it won't hurt so much to say it to somebody else. But of -course she hasn't--she can't have." - -Stowell felt as if he had been suddenly deprived of the power of -speech. Yes, Bessie would confess everything to Fenella. Not merely -the birth of her child but also the name of her -fellow-sinner--Fenella's desire to punish the guilty man would drag -that out of her. Perhaps the confession was going on at that very -moment. What a shock for Fenella too! All her high-built faith in -him wrecked and broken! - -"Well, let us hope...." - -"Yes, that is all we can do." - -And then the two men parted, Gell returning to his pacing among the -tombs of the dead kings and Stowell going out by the Deemster's door. - -A few of the spectators at the trial were waiting to see the Deemster -off, but he scarcely saw their salutations and did not respond to -them. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - -THE TWO WOMEN--THE TWO MEN - -On being taken back to her cell Bessie had burst into a fit of -hysteria. - -"The brutes! They're only trying to catch me out that they may kill -me. Why don't they do it then? Why don't they finish me? This -waiting is the worst." - -Her face was blue with rage, her voice was coarse and husky, her -mouth was full of ugly and vulgar words--all the traces of her common -upbringing coming uppermost. - -At length, out of breath and exhausted, she broke into sobs. This -quietened her and after a while she asked what had become of her -mother. - -Fenella, who was alone with her (the woman warder having gone home -ill), answered that some good women had carried her mother away and -were going to take care of her. - -"And where is...." - -"Mr. Gell? Upstairs. He sent me down to speak to you." - -"I won't speak to anyone. They're all alike. They're only torturing -me." - -Fenella reproved the girl tenderly. Could she not see that the -Deemster himself was trying to help her? He had adjourned the Court -to give her another chance, and if she could only explain away the -evidence of the scarf.... - -"I won't explain anything. Why can't you leave me be?" - -"You heard what the Deemster said, Bessie? Tell the truth; the whole -truth; it will be best for you; best for everybody." - -After that Bessie became calmer, and then Fenella (little knowing -what she was doing for herself) pleaded with the girl to confess. - -"I think I understand," she said. "Sometimes a girl loves a man so -much that she cannot deny him anything. Thousands and thousands of -women have been like that. Not the worst women either. But the dark -hour comes when the man does not marry her--perhaps cannot--and then -she tries to cover up everything. And that's your case, isn't it?" - -"Don't ask me. I can't tell you," cried Bessie. - -Fenella tried again, still more tenderly. - -"And sometimes a girl who has done wrong tries to shield somebody -else--somebody who is as guilty as herself, perhaps guiltier. -Thousands of women have done that too, ever since the world began. -They shouldn't, though. A bad man counts on a woman's silence. She -should speak out, no matter who may be shamed. And that's what you -are going to do, aren't you?" - -But still Bessie cried, "I can't! I can't!" - -"Don't be afraid," said Fenella. "The Deemster is not like some -other judges. He has such pity for a girl in your position that he -will do what is right by her whoever the man may be." - -"Oh, why do you torture me?" cried Bessie. - -"I don't mean to do that," said Fenella. "But a girl has to think of -her own position in the long run, and it's only right she should know -what it is. If she is charged with a terrible crime, and there is -evidence against her which she cannot gainsay, the law has the power -to punish her--to inflict the most terrible punishment, perhaps. -Have you thought of that, Bessie?" - -Bessie shuddered and laid hold of Fenella by both hands. - -"On the other hand if she can explain .... if she can say that her -child was born dead and that she merely concealed the birth of it, or -that she killed it by accident, perhaps, when she was alone and -didn't know what she was doing...." - -Bessie was breathing rapidly, and Fenella (still unconscious of the -fearful game the unseen powers were playing with her) followed up her -advantage. - -"You can trust the Deemster, Bessie. He will be merciful to a girl -who has stood silent in her shame to save the honour of the man she -loves--I'm sure he will. And the Jury too, when they see that you -did not intend to kill your child, they may .... who knows? .... they -may even acquit you altogether." - -Bessie was silent now, and Fenella could see, in the half darkness of -the cell, that the girl's big pathetic eyes were gazing up at her. - -"And then the people who have been thinking hard of you, because you -have deceived them, will soften to you when they see that what you -did, however wrong it was and even criminal, was done perhaps for -somebody you loved better than yourself." - -Suddenly Bessie dropped to her knees at Fenella's feet and cried, - -"Very well, I will confess. Yes, it's true. I had a child, and I -.... I killed it. But I didn't mean to--God knows I didn't." - -"Tell me everything," said Fenella. And then, burying her face in -Fenella's lap and clinging to her, Bessie told her story, mentioning -no names, but concealing and excusing nothing. - -Before she had come to an end, Fenella, who had been saying "Yes" and -"Yes," and asking short and eager questions (the two women speaking -in whispers as if afraid that the dark walls would hear), felt -herself seized by a great terror. - -"Then it was not Mr. Gell who took you into his rooms when your -father shut you out?" - -"No, no! Would to God it had been!" - -"Then who was it?" - -"Don't ask me that. I cannot answer you." - -"Who was it? Tell me, tell me." - -"I can't! I can't!" - -"Was it in Ramsey--his chambers?" - -"Yes." - -"Is he? .... is he anything to me?" - -Bessie dropped her head still deeper into Fenella's lap and made no -answer. - -"Is he?" said Fenella, and in her gathering terror, getting no reply, -she lifted Bessie's head and looked searchingly into her face, as if -to probe her soul. - -At the next moment the dreadful truth had fallen on her. The girl's -fellow-sinner, the man she had been hunting down to punish him, to -shame him, to expose him to public obloquy, was Victor Stowell -himself! - -At the first shock of the revelation the woman in Fenella asserted -itself--the simple, natural, deceived and outraged woman. This girl -had gone before her! This common, uneducated creature of the fields -and the farmyard! For one cruel moment she had a vision of Bessie in -Stowell's arms. This was the face he had loved! These were the lips -he had kissed! And she had thought he had loved her only--never -having loved anybody else! - -A feeling of disgust came over her. The girl had not even had the -excuse of caring for Stowell. She had been thinking merely of a way -of escape from the tyrannies of her step-father. Or perhaps an -admixture of sheer animal instinct had impelled her. How degrading -it all was! - -Bessie, who had begun to realise what she had done, tried to take her -hand, but Fenella drew back and cried, - -"Don't touch me!" - -All the thoughts of years about woman as the victim seemed to be -burnt up in an instant in the furnace of her outraged feelings. An -almost unconquerable impulse came to leave Bessie to her fate. Let -her pay the penalty of her crime! Why shouldn't she? - -But after a while a great pity for the girl came over her. If she -had sinned she had also suffered. If she was there, in prison, it -was only because she had been trying in her ignorant way to wipe out -her fault. - -But she herself .... her hopes gone, her love wasted.... - -Fenella bursted into a flood of tears. And then Bessie (the two -women had changed places now) began to comfort her. - -"I'm sorry. I didn't think what I was doing. Don't cry." - -At the next moment they were in each other's arms, crying like -children--two poor ship-broken women on the everlasting ocean of -man's changeless lust. - -Bessie was the first to recover. She was full of hope and -expectation, and visions of the future. Now that she had confessed -everything the Deemster would tell the Jury to let her off, and then -Alick would forgive her also. - -"He _will_ forgive me, will he not?" - -She was like a child again, and Fenella found a cruel relief in -humouring her. - -"Yes, yes," she answered. - -"When I leave this place I'm going to be so good," said Bessie. "I -will make him such a happy life. We'll be married immediately--by -Bishop's licence, you know--and then leave the Isle of Man and go to -America. He often spoke of that, and it will be best .... After all -this trouble it will be best, don't you think so?" - -"No doubt, no doubt," said Fenella. - -At length she remembered that Gell would be waiting for her. She -must go to him. When she reached the corridor she paused, wondering -what she was to say and how she was to say it. While she stood there -she heard sounds from the cell behind her. Bessie was singing. - -Meantime Gell had been fighting his own battle. The black thought -which had come hurtling down on him at Derby Haven, when he first -read the letter which Bessie had left behind her, was torturing him -again. It was about Stowell, and to crush it he had to call up the -memory of the long line of good and generous things that Stowell had -done for him all the way up since he was a boy. - -When at last he saw Fenella approaching he searched her face for a -ray of hope, but his heart sank at the sight of it. - -"Well?" - -"She has confessed." - -"She had a child?" - -"Yes." - -"It was born dead?" - -"No, she killed it." - -"God in heaven!" said Gell, and it seemed to Fenella that at that -moment the man's heart had broken. - -She knew she ought to say more, but she could not do so--nothing -being of consequence except the one terrible fact of the man's -betrayal. - -"God in heaven!" said Gell again, and he turned to leave her. - -"What are you going to do in the morning?" - -"I don't know .... yet." - -"Where are you going to now?" - -"To .... Ballamoar." - -Again she knew that she ought to say more, but again she could not. - -Gell was making for the gate, and Fenella, bankrupt in heart herself, -wanted to comfort him. - -"Mr. Gell," she said, "I have been doing you a great injustice. I -ask you to forgive me." - -With his hand on the bolt he turned his broken face to her. - -"That's nothing--nothing now," he said. - -And again she heard "God in heaven!" as the gate closed behind him. - - - -II - -"Ah, here you are, dear!" - -It was Janet who had heard the hum of Stowell's car on the drive and -had come hurrying out to meet him. - -"You've had a tiring day--I can see that," she said, as she poured -out a cup of tea for him. "Ah, these high positions! 'There's -nothing to be got without being paid for,' as your father used to -say." - -To escape from Janet's solicitude and to tire himself out so that he -might have a chance of sleeping that night, he walked down to the -shore. - -A storm was rising. The gulls were flying inland and their white -wings were mingling with the black ones of the rooks. The fierce sky -to the south, the cold grey of the sea to the north, the bleak church -tower on the stark headland, looking like a blinded lighthouse--they -suited better with his mood. - -Fenella! She must know everything by this time. How was he to meet -her eyes in the morning? - -Gell! He, too, must know everything now. How every innocent thing -he had done to help his friend would look like cunning bribery and -cruel treachery! - -It was a lie to say that a sin could be concealed. An evil act once -done could never be undone; it could never be hidden away. A man -might carry his sin out to sea, and bury it in the deepest part of -the deep, but some day it would come scouring up before a storm as -the broken seaweed came, to lie open and naked on the beach. - -The sky darkened and he turned back. On the way home he met Robbie -Creer, and they had to shout to each other above the fury of the -wind. The farmer had been over to the Nappin (the fields above the -Point) and found hidden fissures in the soil three feet deep. They -would lose land before morning. - -At dinner Janet did her best to make things cheerful. There was the -sweet home atmosphere--the wood fire with its odour of resin and -gorse, the snow-white table-cloth, the silver candlesticks, all the -old-fashioned daintiness. But Stowell was preoccupied and hardly -listened to Janet's chattering. So she went early to her room, -saying she was sure he wished to be alone--his father always did, -during the adjournment of a serious case. His father again! How her -devotion to his father drove the iron into his soul! - -It was late and the rain had begun to slash the window-panes when he -heard the front door bell ringing. After a few moments he heard it -ringing again, more loudly and insistently. Nobody answered it. The -household must be asleep. - -Then came a hurried knocking at the window of the dining-room and a -voice, which was like the wind itself become articulate, crying out -of the darkness, - -"Let me in!" - -It was Gell. For the first time in his life Stowell felt a spasm of -physical fear. But he remembered something which Gell had said at -the door of the railway carriage in Douglas on the day of the trial -of the Peel fisherman ("I should have killed the other man"), and -that strengthened him. Anything was better than the torture of a -hidden sin--anything! - -"Go back to the door--I'll open it," he called through the closed -window, and then he walked to the porch. - -His heart was beating hard. He thought he knew what was coming. But -when Gell entered the house he was not the man Stowell had -expected--with flaming eyes and passionate voice--but a poor, broken, -irresolute creature. His hair was disordered, his step was weak and -shuffling, and he was stretching out his nervous hands on coming into -the light as if still walking in the darkness. - -"I had to come and tell you. She's guilty. She has confessed," he -said. - -And then he collapsed into a chair and broke into pitiful moaning. -It was too cruel. He could have taken the girl's word against the -world, yet she had deceived him. - -"Did she say .... who...." - -"No." - -"No?" - -"I didn't ask. Some miserable farm-hand, I suppose--some brute, some -animal. Damn him, whoever he is! Damn him! Damn him to the devil -and hell!" - -Stowell felt a boundless relief, yet a sense of sickening duplicity. - -"But what matter about the man?" said Gell. "It's the girl who has -deceived me. I daresay I'm not the first either. Perhaps her -step-father didn't turn her out for nothing. There may have been -something to say for the old scoundrel." - -Choking with hypocrisy, Stowell found himself pleading for the girl. -Perhaps .... who could say? .... perhaps she had been more sinned -against than sinning. - -"Then why didn't she tell me?" said Gell. His voice was like a wail. - -"Who can say...." (Stowell felt a throb in his throat and was -speaking with difficulty), "who can say she wasn't trying to save you -pain .... knowing how you believed in her and cared for her?" - -"But if she had only told me," said Gell. "If she had only been -straight with me!" - -Stowell felt himself on the edge of terrible revelations. But he -controlled himself. If Bessie had concealed part of the truth what -right had he to reveal it? After a moment of silent terror he asked -Gell what he meant to do in the morning. - -"Advise her to amend her plea and cast herself on the mercy of the -Court." - -"Yes, that is the only proper course now," said Stowell, and then -Gell rose to go. - -It was a wild night. The wind was higher than ever by this time and -the rain on the windows was rattling like hail. Stowell asked Gell -to sleep the night at Ballamoar, secretly hoping he would refuse. He -did. He had bespoken a bed at the Railway Inn near to the -station--he must go up by the first train in the morning. - -Stowell saw him to the door, and held it open with his shoulder -against the wind, which swirled through the hall, making the flame of -the lamp on the landing to flame up in its funnel. Outside there was -the slashing of leaves and the crackling of boughs among the elms -around the lawn. - -"Well, good-night," said Gell, and turning up the collar of his coat, -he went off in the darkness and the rain. - -Stowell turned back into the house with a sense of degradation he had -never felt before. Oh, what a miserable coward a hidden sin made of -a man! Sooner or later it would be revealed and then .... what then? - -Suddenly he was startled by a new thought. Bessie's confession would -give the trial an entirely different turn. If she pleaded guilty in -the morning there would be nothing for the Jury to do. Either they -would have to be dismissed or instructed to bring in a formal -verdict. The verdict against the prisoner would depend upon the -Judges. That is to say, Bessie's fate would depend upon him--upon -him alone! - -The first shock of this thought was terrible, but after a while he -told himself that it came to the same thing in the end. The real -responsibility was with the law. A judge was only the law's -spokesman. For a given crime a given punishment. A judge did not -make the sentence on a prisoner--he had only to pronounce it. - -Strengthening himself so, he went to bed. For a long time he lay -awake, listening to the many sounds of the storm. In the middle of -the night he was startled out of his troubled sleep by a loud crash -in the distance. - -The morning broke fair, with a clear sky and the sea lying under the -sunshine like a sleeping child. But as he drove off, after a scanty -breakfast, he found the carriage-drive strewn with young leaves, the -torn bough of an old elm stretching across his path, and a number of -dead rooks lying about the lawn. - -Outside the big gates he met Robbie Creer, who was riding barebacked -on a farm horse. The farmer had been over to the Nappin and seen -what he had expected. The headland was down; there was a Gob (a -mouth) where the Point had been, and the sea was flowing between two -cliffs that had been torn asunder. - -Driving hard, Stowell arrived early at Castletown and found a crowd -at the Castle gate, waiting for the trial as for a show. He was -passing through the Deemster's private entrance when he had a vision -of a scene which the spectators could not be counting upon. What if -the prisoner, while making her confession, accused her Judge? - -Joshua Scarff, in his coloured spectacles, was waiting at the door to -the Deemster's room. - -"I'm afraid your Honour is not well this morning," said Joshua. - -"A little headache, that's all," said Stowell. - -But he had stumbled on the threshold (a bad omen) and was wondering -what would happen before he came out again. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY - -THE VERDICT - -When the Court resumed Gell rose, with a haggard face, to make an -announcement. - -In accordance with the suggestion of his Excellency, the accused had -been seen during the adjournment (though not by him), with the result -that she had confessed to having given birth to a child and being the -cause of its death. - -"In these circumstances," he said, speaking in a husky voice, "I have -taken the only course open to me--that of advising her to revise her -plea, and with the permission of the Court she will now do so." - -There was a moment of agitation in which the Court was understood to -assent, and then Bessie was called upon to plead again. But hardly -had she risen at the call of the Deemster when she broke down utterly -and sob followed sob at every question that was put to her. At -length she bowed her head and that was accepted as her plea of guilty. - -Then Gell rose again and said, - -"Although the prisoner pleads guilty to causing the death of her -child, she says she did not so wilfully. Therefore I propose to put -her back in the box to prove extenuating circumstances." - -Once more the Court agreed, but when Bessie was removed from the dock -to the witness-box she broke down again and not a word could be got -out of her. - -"It is only natural," said Gell, "that she should feel shame at -having to take back what she said yesterday." - -The Deemster bowed, and speaking with an obvious effort he appealed -to the girl to answer the questions of her advocate. But still -Bessie sobbed and made no answer. - -"The Court has nothing left to it but to go on to judgment," said the -Attorney-General. - -At that moment, when the trial seemed to be brought to a standstill, -Fenella (sitting near to the witness-box) was seen to lean over and -whisper to Gell, who rose and asked to be allowed to make a -suggestion--that inasmuch as the accused was unable to answer for -herself, somebody else, who knew what she wished to say, should be -empowered to answer for her. - -The Deemster, seeing what was coming, seemed to catch his breath, but -after a moment he agreed. The course proposed, although unusual, was -not contrary to the interests of justice or altogether without -precedent--a deaf and dumb witness always giving evidence by a -speaking proxy. Therefore if the Attorney-General did not object.... - -"Not at all," said the Attorney. - -"In that case," said Gell, "I will ask the lady who received the -prisoner's confession to speak on her behalf--Miss Stanley." - -It was said afterwards, when the events of that day had a fierce -light cast back upon them, that when Fenella stepped up to the -witness-box, and stood side by side with the prisoner, ready to take -her oath, the Deemster seemed scarcely able to recite the familiar -words to her. - -"Please tell the Court, as nearly as possible in her own words, what -the prisoner told you," said Gell. - -There was a deep and concentrated silence. Never before had anybody -witnessed so strange a scene. Speaking calmly and firmly, Fenella -told Bessie's story as Bessie herself had told it--her journey from -the south of the island, the birth and death of her child, and the -burying of it under the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_. - -When she had finished, and Bessie, who was stifling her sobs, had -bowed her head in reply to a question from Gell that she assented to -what had been said on her behalf, the Attorney-General rose to -cross-examine. - -"Does the prisoner deny," he said, "that when she returned home she -told her mother of her condition?" - -"Yes, her mother knew nothing about it." - -"Does she deny that by keeping her condition secret from the person -most proper to know of it, she deliberately intended to put her child -away by violence?" - -"No, she does not deny that, but says that when her baby came the -instinct of motherhood came too, and from that moment onward the idea -of taking its life was far from her heart." - -"Does the prisoner wish the Court to believe that--in spite of her -subsequent conduct in concealing the birth and death of her child and -in secretly burying it?" - -"Yes, she does, and if a court of men cannot believe it, a court of -women would, because...." - -But the Attorney-General, with a look of triumph, sat down quickly, -and Fenella, flushing up to her flaming eyes, stopped suddenly. - -There was another moment of deep silence in Court, and then Gell, who -had to struggle with his emotion, rose to re-examine. - -"Does the prisoner say that when she killed her child she did so -unconsciously and under the influence of fear?" - -"Yes, under the influence of fear--fear of her step-father who had -behaved like a brute to her." - -"Does she think that, however lamentable her act, she was moved to it -by pardonable motives?" - -"Not pardonable motives merely," said Fenella, flaming up again, "but -nobly unselfish ones." - -"Nobly unselfish motives!" said the Attorney-General, rising again. -"Will the witness please tell the Court what she means by nobly -unselfish motives in a case like this?" - -"I mean," said Fenella, hesitating for a moment, looking up at the -Deemster and then (before she could be stopped) speaking with passion -and rapidly, "I mean that this girl was betrayed at the time of her -sorest need by one who should have protected her, not taken advantage -of her. I mean that, falling in love afterwards with another man--a -good man who was willing to make her his wife--she committed the -crime solely and only in an effort to cover up her fault and to save -her honour in the eyes of the man who loved her. I mean, too, that -the real guilt lies not so much with this poor creature who sits here -in her shame, as with the man who used her, caring nothing for her, -and then left her to bear the consequences of their sin alone. Shame -on him! Shame on him! May no good man own him for a friend! May no -good woman take him for a husband! May he live to...." - -The irregular outburst was interrupted by a cry from the advocates' -benches. Gell had risen with wild eyes. He seemed to be trying to -speak. His mouth opened but he said nothing, and after looking first -at Fenella and then at the Deemster he sank back to his seat. And -then Fenella, as if realising what she had done, sat also. - -There were some moments of uneasy silence, and then the -Attorney-General rose for the last time. - -"It is impossible," he said, "not to be moved by what we have just -heard, however improper on legal grounds it may have been. But the -Court will not allow themselves to be carried away by their feelings. -It is the natural consequence of great crimes that they should bring -great suffering. The prisoner has confessed to a great crime. She -has failed to establish proof of extenuating circumstances. -Therefore, for the protection of human life, as well as the good name -of this island, I ask for the utmost penalty of the law." - -After that there was a long pause, broken only by some whispering on -the bench. It was observed that the Deemster took no part in it, -except to bend his head when the Governor and the Clerk of the Rolls -leaned across and spoke to him. At length, with a manifest effort, -and in a low voice (so low that the people in Court had to lean -forward to hear him) he began to address the Jury. - - - -II - -"When a prisoner pleads Guilty," he said, "it is usual for the Court -to proceed at once to the sentence. But in the present unhappy case -it has been thought right that the Judge, in directing the Jury to -find a formal verdict, should indicate the grounds on which the Court -has based its judgment. - -"The prisoner has pleaded guilty to taking the life of her new-born -child. She has confessed that down to the hour of its birth she had -the deliberate intention of making away with it, and the Court is -unhappily compelled to find in her conduct only too many evidences of -that design. - -"But she has also said that after her child's birth, under the divine -love and compassion of awakened motherhood, she repented of her -intention of killing it, and that it came to its death by -accident--the accident of semi-consciousness and the consequences of -her fear. The Court would gladly accept this explanation if it could -be corroborated by the evidence. Unfortunately it cannot. On the -contrary the prisoner's subsequent behaviour points to an entirely -different conclusion. Therefore the Court has nothing before it but -the prisoner's confession that she intended to take the life of her -child, and the fact that she did indeed take it." - -The Deemster paused (Gell had risen and was seen crushing his way out -of Court); then he continued, - -"How her child came by its death is between God and her conscience. -It is not for me, or perhaps for any man, to read the secret of a -woman's heart in the dark hour of the birth of her misbegotten child. -Into the cloud of that mystery only the eye of Heaven can follow her. -But I should fail in my duty as a Judge if I did not try to show that -the Court is fully conscious of the physical weaknesses and spiritual -temptations which lie in the way of a woman who is in the position of -the accused." - -Then followed, during some breathless moments, such speaking as -nobody present had ever heard before except from Stowell himself, and -only from him on the day when he snatched from the gallows the rag of -a woman who had killed her husband. - -It was a contrast of the conditions attending the birth of a child -born in wedlock, and of a child born illegitimate. They all knew the -first. The beloved young wife watching with a thrilling heart for -the signs of that coming event which was to complete her joy; the -happy months in which she is shielded from all harm; the tender -solicitude of her husband; her own sweet and secret preparations for -the little stranger who is to come; the guesses as to its sex; the -discussions as to its name--until at length, in the fulness of its -appointed time, the child born in wedlock comes, like an angel -floating out of the sunrise, into a world that is waiting for it to -take it into its arms. - -But the child born out of wedlock--what of that? The poor mother, -betrayed perhaps, abandoned perhaps, bereft of the love she counted -upon, living for months in fear of every accusing eye, in dread of -the being under her heart who is coming to shame her, to drive her -from her home, to make her an outcast and a byword among women--until -at last she creeps away to hide herself in some secret place, where, -alone, in the darkness of night, distraught, amid the groans as of a -thunderstorm, she faces death to bring her fatherless babe into a -world that wants it not. - -"What wonder if sometimes," said the Deemster, "in the pain of her -body and the disorder of her soul, a woman (all the more if she has -hitherto borne a good character) should be tempted to escape from her -threatening disgrace by killing the child who is the innocent cause -of it?" - -But rightly or wrongly, the law could take no account of such -temptations. In the great eye of Justice the issues of life and -death were in God's hands only. Life was sacred, and not more sacred -was the life that came in the palace, with statesmen waiting in the -antechamber, the life of the heir to a throne, than the life that -came in the hovel and under the thatch, the life of the bastard who -was to run barefoot on the roads. - -"It may be thought to be a hard law which takes no account of -temptations to which women are exposed when nature demands that -penalty from them which it never demands from men. But we who sit -here have nothing to do with that. Judges are sworn to administer -the law as they find it, whatever their own feelings may be. -Therefore the Court has now no choice but to direct the Jury to find -a verdict of guilty against the prisoner." - -There was a deep drawing of breath in Court, and everybody thought -the Deemster had finished, but after another short pause, in a -tremulous voice which vibrated through all hearts, he continued, - -"But the Jury has a right which the Judges cannot exercise--they can -go beyond the law. And if, having heard the evidence in this case, -and having God and a good conscience before them, the Jury, in -finding their formal verdict, can come to a conclusion favourable to -the prisoner's story, they may recommend her to the mercy of the -Crown, and thereby lead, perhaps, to the lessening of her punishment, -and even to the wiping of it out altogether. If not, the law must -take its course, at the discretion of the Governor as the -representative of the King." - -When the Deemster's tremulous voice had ceased the jurymen put their -heads together for a moment. Then one of them rose to ask if they -might retire to their own room to consider the point left to them by -His Honour. - -"The Court agrees," said the Governor, and the jurymen trooped out. - -The Judges and the advocates went out also, and the prisoner (who had -been clinging to Fenella's hand) was removed. Only die spectators -remained in their places. They were afraid to lose them for the -concluding scene. - - - -III - -In a small unventilated room overlooking the Keep the Jury considered -their share of the verdict. - -"Gentlemen," said one (he was an auctioneer and a Town Commissioner), -"you heard what the Deemster said. We can't let her off but we can -recommend her to mercy." - -"Why should we?" said another, a tall landowner with a bad reputation -about women. "She killed her child. Let her swing, I say." - -"But she said she didn't intend to and that she was out of herself -and frightened by her step-father," said a third--a fat butcher who -was sitting astride on a chair and making it creak under him. - -"Chut! That was only an after-thought," said a fourth--a little -bald-headed English grocer. - -"Still and for all we know what Dan Baldromma is," said the butcher, -"an infidel who believes neither in God nor the devil." - -"He's devil enough himself," said the grocer. "His father was the -'angman." - -"That was his uncle," said the butcher. - -"No, but his father. They called him Dan the Black, and after the -'anging of Patrick Kelly of Kentraugh...." - -"Question! Question!" cried the Town Commissioner. "Let's keep to -the point, gentlemen." - -"Let's get finished and away," said the grocer. "I've 'ad an -addition to my family, I may tell you. A son at last after four -daughters. My wife's getting up to-day and we're to 'ave a turkey -for dinner. Let the woman off, I say." - -"But we can't, man. Didn't you hear what the Deemster said?" - -"Then let the 'uzzy 'ang." - -"Are we to recommend the girl to mercy--that's the question," said -the Town Commissioner. - -"Why shouldn't we?" said the butcher. "Hundreds and tons of girls -have done as bad before now, and nobody a penny the wiser. Why make -flesh of one and fowl of another?" - -"If we show mercy to women of this sort we'll only encourage them in -their bad conduct," said the landowner. - -This led to a random discussion on the question of Women or Men, -which were the worst? The landlord was loud in denunciation of -women, the butcher was more indulgent. - -"Look here," said the butcher, "this isn't a game a woman can go into -a corner and play all by herself, you know. For every bad woman -there's a bad man knocking about somewhere." - -"A man isn't always filling his house with by-children anyway," said -the landowner. - -"No," said the butcher, "but he is sometimes filling other people's -though." - -"That's personal, and I won't stand it," cried the landowner, and -then there were loud shouts with much smiting of the table. - -In the midst of the tumult a quiet voice was heard to say, - -"Hadn't we better lay this matter before the Lord, brothers?" - -It was a northside farmer and local preacher, who (not always to his -financial advantage) had made it the rule of his life, whether in the -reaping of his corn or the sowing of his turnips, to wait for Divine -guidance. In another moment he was on his knees, and one by one his -fellow-jurymen, including the long landowner, had slithered down -after him. - -When they rose they were apparently of one opinion--that inasmuch as -nobody except God knew why Bessie had killed her child (being alone -and under the cloud of night) the only thing to do was to leave her -to the Lord. - - -Meantime Gell, with restless and irregular footsteps, was striding -about in the court-yard. Fenella's outburst had fallen on him like a -flash of lightning in the darkness. Everything had suddenly become -clear--all the vague fears that had haunted him so long, the -suspicions he had thrust behind his back, the facts he had been -unable to understand. What a blind fool he had been! - -Stowell! His life-long friend, on whose word he would have staked -his soul! There must have been a conspiracy to deceive him. Both -Stowell and Bessie had been in it--Stowell to get rid of the girl he -no longer wanted, and Bessie to cover up her disgrace by marrying -him. What a plot! The woman he had loved and the man he had -worshipped! He saw himself hoodwinked by both of them, lied to, -perhaps laughed at. His life, his faith, his love had crashed down -in a moment. It was too cruel, too damnable! - -The air was chill, though the sun was shining, but Gell took off his -wig and carried it in his hand, for his head seemed to be afire. - -After a time the hatred he had felt for Bessie became centred, with a -hundredfold intensity, upon Stowell. Even if Bessie had begun with -an intention of betraying him, she must have repented of it -afterwards, and committed her crime, poor girl, because (as Fenella -had said) she had come to love him. But Stowell had carried on his -deception to the last moment. He was carrying it on now, when he was -sitting in judgment on his own victim. He meant to sentence her to -death, too. Yes, under all his fine phrases it was easy to see that -he meant to sentence her. But if he did so Gell would murder him. - -"Yes, by God, I'll murder him," he thought. - -In the darkness of her cell, with no light on her tortured face -except that of the candle behind the grill, Bessie, breaking into -another fit of hysteria, was reproaching Fenella with deceiving her. - -"You told me that if I confessed the Deemster would let me off. But -he is going to condemn me. Why couldn't you let me be? What for did -you come here at all? I didn't ask you, did I?" - -"Be calm," said Fenella, "and I will explain everything." - -After awhile Bessie regained her composure and then she asked for -forgiveness. - -"I beg your pardon. Sometimes I don't know what I am saying. It has -been like that all through the time of my trouble. It was very wrong -to forget how you spoke up for me in Court. You'll forgive me, won't -you?" - -And then Fenella, though sorely in need of comfort herself, comforted -the girl and reassured her. The Court might be compelled to sentence -her, as it had sentenced other girls for similar crimes, but the -sentence would not be carried out. It never was in these days. - -"Besides," she said, "the jury will recommend you to mercy, and then -the Judges will exercise their discretionary power to reduce your -punishment." - -Bessie's eyes began to shine. - -"You must really forgive me .... And Alick--do you think Alick will -forgive me too?" - -"Yes, when he sees that what you did was done out of your love for -him." - -"How good you are! .... And shall we be able to leave the Isle of Man -and go away somewhere?" - -"Perhaps .... some day." - -"Oh, how good you are! I don't know what I've done for you to be so -good to me. I didn't think anybody except a girl's mother could be -so good to her." - -She was like a child again. Her face, though still wet, was beaming. -In the selfishness of her suffering it had not occurred to her before -that her comforter had been suffering also, but now, in some vague -way, she became aware of it. - -"If they ask me who he was," she said, in a whisper (meaning who had -been her fellow-sinner), "I'll never tell them--never!" - -Fenella's humiliation was abject. "When we go back to Court," she -said, "you must be brave, whatever happens." - -"Will you let me hold your hand?" said Bessie. - -And Fenella, scarcely able to speak, answered, - -"Yes." - -In the Deemster's room there was a painful silence. The Clerk of the -Rolls was under the deeply-recessed window, turning over the -crinkling folios of the Depositions in the case to be taken next. -The Governor, stretched out in the leathern bound armchair before the -empty fireplace, was smoking hard and trying to justify himself to -his own conscience. Stowell was sitting at the end of the long -table, with his head in his hands, gazing down at the red -blotting-pad in front of him. - -No one spoke. Occasionally there came from without the mournful cry -of the gulls flying over the harbour, and, at one moment, the -ululation of a crew of Irish sailors who were weighing anchor on a -schooner in the bay. - -The profound silence around only made louder the thunder in Stowell's -soul. He knew he was at the crisis of his life. On what he did now -the future of his life depended. - -The address to the Jury had been a fearful ordeal, but the sentence -would be terrible. To sentence Bessie Collister, having been the -first cause of her crime--could he do it? It might only be a formal -sentence (the Crown being certain to commute the punishment), but the -awful words prescribed by the Statute--would they not choke in his -very throat? - -And then Fenella! Her voice was ringing in his ears still: - -"Shame on him! Let no good man own him for a friend! Let no good -woman take him for a husband!" - -"And what will be the end?" he asked himself. - -He heard the door open behind him. A low hum of voices came down the -staircase from the Court-house. There was a footstep on the carpeted -floor. Somebody by his side was speaking. It was Joshua Scarff. - -"The Jury are ready to return to Court, your Honour." - - - -IV - -When Stowell resumed his seat on the bench, and the buzz of -conversation had subsided, he was conscious of the presence of only -three persons besides himself--Bessie in the dock with Fenella by her -side, and Alick Gell, with distorted face and wig a little awry, in -the bench in front of them. - -The Jurymen filed back. The Clerk of the Rolls read out their names -and then asked for their formal verdict. - -"You find the prisoner Guilty, according to the instructions of the -Court?" - -"Aw, yes, guilty enough, poor soul," said the foreman (it was the -northside farmer), "but lave her to the Lord, we say." - -There was a titter at this quaint finding, but it was quickly -suppressed. Then the Clerk of the Rolls said, - -"I assume that means that you recommend her to mercy?" - -"Aw, yes, mercy enough too," said the foreman, "for when the sacrets -of all hearts are revealed it's mercy we'll all be wanting." - -After that Stowell was conscious of a still deeper hush in Court. He -saw Bessie, in the full glare of her shame, standing in the dock, -holding the rail with one hand and clinging to Fenella with the other. - -He heard himself asking her if she had anything to say why judgment -should not be pronounced upon her. She made no answer, but there was -a strange expression of frightened hope in her face. He -understood--she was expecting that he would save her even at the last -moment. - -At that sight there came to him one of those frightful impulses which -tempt people on dizzy heights, from sheer fear of danger, to fling -themselves into the abyss below. - -"Prisoner at the bar," he said, "it has been said on your behalf that -you were first led to do what you did by the act of one who remains -unpunished while you have to bear the full weight of your fall. If -you think it will lessen the burden of your crime to plead this as an -extenuating circumstance speak--it is not too late to do so." - -Bessie made no reply, and Stowell, who felt Fenella's eyes fixed on -him, continued, - -"Don't be afraid. If you think it will lighten your guilt in the -eyes of the Court to mention that man's name, mention it." - -Bessie swayed a little, as if dizzy, looked round at Fenella, and -then turned back to the bench and shook her head. - -The hush in Court was broken by a rustle of astonishment. Had the -Deemster lost himself? Stowell was conscious of a movement by his -side and of the Governor saying, in an angry whisper, - -"Go on, for God's sake!" - -At length, in a voice so low as to be only just heard even in the -breathless silence, he said, - -"Elizabeth Corteen, you have pleaded guilty to the charge of taking -the life of your innocent child, the little helpless babe who had no -other natural protector than the mother who bore it on her bosom. By -this act you have brought yourself under the condemnation of the law, -and it is for the law to punish you. But out of regard to your -sufferings and the uncertainty as to your motives, the Jury have -recommended you to mercy, and it will be my duty to see that their -prayer is sent, through His Excellency the Governor, to the high and -proper authority, in the hope that the measure of pardon which, in -all but exceptional cases, is granted to persons in your position, -may be extended to you also." - -The tears were rolling down Bessie's cheeks, but Stowell saw that she -was still looking up at him with the same expression. - -"Meantime," he continued, "and however that may be, the Court has no -choice but to condemn you to the punishment prescribed by law. We -who sit here must act according to our oath and our duty. Justice" -(he was pointing with a trembling hand to the motto under his -father's picture) "is the most sacred thing on earth, and even .... -even if your fellow-sinner himself sat on this bench, his first duty -would be to Justice, for Justice is above all." - -Then lowering his head and speaking rapidly, in a muffled and -indistinguishable whisper, Stowell pronounced the sentence of death. -None of it seemed to be clearly heard until he reached the last words -("and may God have mercy on your soul"), and then there came a loud -scream from the dock. - -Bessie, who had been leaning forward and listening intently (the look -of hope and expectation on her face darkening to dismay and terror), -had dropped back, and would have fallen but for Fenella, who had -leapt up and caught her. - -"Remove the prisoner," said the Governor sharply, and at the next -moment the constables were carrying the girl out of Court screaming -and sobbing. - -But before she had gone there was a movement in the benches of the -advocates. Alick Gell had risen again, with wild eyes, and he was -shouting after her: - -"Never mind, Bessie! I would rather be you than your Judge." - -There was consternation in Court. Everybody was on his feet to look -after the prisoner, and at Gell, who was being hustled out after her. -But hardly had the door closed behind them, when there was another -cry in Court: - -"The Deemster!" - -Stowell had risen also. He had stood looking after the prisoner -until her last cry had died away in the corridor. Then he had turned -about, as if intending to leave the bench, taken a step forward, -stumbled, and dropped to one knee. - -The Governor rose and reached forward to help him. But he recovered -himself immediately. His face was very pale, but he smiled, a -pitiful smile, as if saying, "A little dizziness, nothing more," and -waved off assistance. - -Bracing himself up, he stood aside for the Governor to go before him, -and then walked out of Court with a firm step. The ring of his tread -was plainly heard as he passed through the green baize door that led -to the Deemster's room. - -The spectators looked into each other's faces as if bewildered by -what they had seen and heard. Although the business of the day was -not yet over most of them trooped out, feeling that they had been -witnessing a drama whereof only a part had been revealed to them--as -by dark shadows on a white blind. - - - -END OF FOURTH BOOK - - - - -_FIFTH BOOK_ - -THE REPARATION - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - -"VICTOR! VICTOR! MY VICTOR!" - -"Good heavens, how was I to know that things would turn out so badly?" - -It was the Governor, alone with Stowell in the Deemster's room, at -the end of the second day of the Court of General Gaol Delivery. - -"As for you, what have you to reproach yourself with? So far as this -case is concerned you have done nothing that is wrong or irregular. -The girl was guilty. You gave her a fair trial. The law required -that she should be condemned. You had to condemn her. Then why take -things so tragically?" - -"But Fenella?" - -"She will get over it. Of course she will. What sensible woman is -going to throw away the happiness of a life-time because of something -that happened before she came on to the scene?" - -"You heard what she said, Sir?" - -"I did, and thought it nonsense. I heard what you said also, and -thought it madness. What a providential escape! Thank God it is all -over! The miserable case is at an end. Let us think no more about -it." - -An Inspector of Police cams into the room to say that Miss Stanley -had left the Castle at the close of the murder trial and asked him to -tell her father that she was going home by train. The Governor, with -knitted eyebrows and a frown, dismissed the Inspector, and then said -to Stowell, as he turned to go, - -"All the same I am bound to say the whole thing has been -unfortunate--damnably unfortunate!" - -Stowell continued to sit for some minutes in his robes after the -Governor had left him. Joshua Scarff came with a glass of brandy. - -"Take this, your Honour. It will strengthen your nerves for your -drive home. I could see you were not well when you arrived this -morning." - -Stowell had drunk the brandy and was setting down the tumbler when -the Inspector came back to say that after the murder trial he had -liberated Dan Baldromma, but had just been compelled to arrest -somebody else. - -"Who else?" - -"Mr. Gell. The gentleman seems to have gone clean off it, Sir. It's -the loss of his case, I suppose." - -Ever since the Court had risen he had been demanding to be allowed to -see the Deemster and threatening what he would do to him. So to -prevent the Advocate from doing a mischief the police had put him in -the cells. - -"Set him at liberty at once," said Stowell. - -"Before your Honour leaves the Castle?" - -"Instantly." - -The Inspector being gone (with the intention of disobeying the -Deemster's command in order to ensure his safety), Joshua Scarff -proceeded to read Gell's conduct by quite a different light. It was -easy to see now that Mr. Gell had been the girl's fellow-sinner and -therefore the cause of her crime. - -"Pity! Great pity!" said Joshua, as he helped Stowell to unrobe. -"But such connections always begin to end badly." - -There were still a few of the spectators at the gate, waiting to see -the Deemster away, and when he came out, with his white face, another -wave of sympathy went out to him. - -"They've been putting the young colt into the shafts too soon--that's -what it is, I tell thee." - -Driving over the harbour bridge in his automobile Stowell began to -feel better. The fresh air from the sea, after the close atmosphere -of the Court-house, brought the blood back to his brain, and he -thought he saw things more clearly. - -The Governor had been right. He could not have acted otherwise -without being false to his oath as a Judge. And if the miserable -fact remained that he should never have been the Judge in this case -at all, it was Fenella herself, above everybody else, who had thrust -him into the furnace of that position. Surely she would remember -this, and it would plead in her heart for him? - -Half-a-mile beyond the town he passed the Governor's big blue landau, -and realised that by some half-conscious impulse he was taking the -road to Government House instead of the direct way home. So much the -better! He must see Fenella at the first possible moment, and find -out what his fate was to be. - -His spirits rose as he bounded along. Granted he had done wrong in -the first instance, terribly and cruelly wrong, hadn't he had many -excuses? If Bessie Collister had told her everything, surely Fenella -would see this, too, and seeing it, would understand? - -But the great fact of all was that (except for the first catastrophe) -his love of Fenella had been the root cause of all that had happened. -If he had not loved Fenella with that deep, unconquerable, -unquenchable love which had swept everything else away (all qualms -and perhaps all conscience), nothing worse could have occurred. He -would have married that poor girl now lying in prison. Yes, whatever -the consequences to himself, he would have married her before Gell -came back into her life, and further complications ensued. But after -Fenella returned to the island no other woman had been possible to -him. Surely she would see this also? And, if she did, nothing else -would matter to either of them--nothing in this world. - -Presently, driving at high speed, he realised that the half-conscious -impulse which had carried him on to the road to Government House was -sweeping him on to the rocky shelf on the coast along which he had -driven with Fenella on the day he took his oath. - -How fortunate! What was that she had said, then, as they sang -together in the fulness of their joy over the hum of the engine and -the boom of the sea?--that love, what she called love, never died and -never changed, and if she loved anybody, and anything happened to -him, she would fight the world for him, even though he were in the -wrong! - -Even though he were in the wrong! - -She would do it now! He was sure she would! Yes, the first shock of -the wretched revelation being over, she would see how he had -suffered, and how he had striven to do the right, and then--then -everything would be well. - -Thus, as he flew over the roads, he built himself up in the hope of -Fenella's forgiveness. But as he approached Government House his -heart failed him again. Something whispered that the excuses he had -been making for himself were no better than a pretence--that Fenella -would see him now for the first time as the man he really was, not -the man she had imagined him to be. - -And then--what would happen then? - - - -II - -As soon as the trial was over and Bessie, weeping bitterly, was taken -back to the cells, Fenella had left Castle Rushen. She was ashamed. -Remembering her wild outburst under the Attorney-General's -examination, she was reproaching herself bitterly. - -Whatever Victor Stowell had done, what right had she to denounce him? -She of all others! In open Court too! - -And then Gell! Although nobody else had understood her, he had done -so. He might have been living in a fool's paradise, but was it for -her her to reveal the awful truth to him? In public, too, and at -that harrowing moment? - -To escape from the pain of self-reproach she kept on telling herself, -as she went back in the train, that Stowell had deceived her. Oh, if -he had only confessed, at any rate to her, she thought she could have -forgiven him in spite of all. But no, he had hidden everything down -to the last moment, and left her to find him out. - -On reaching home she excused herself to old Miss Green and hurried up -to her bedroom. Her head ached and her heart was sore--the young -woman she had been working for had been found guilty and condemned. -She told her maid she was tired, and if anybody asked for her she was -not to be disturbed. - -Two hours passed. Her heart was going through a wild riot of mingled -anger and love. It was like madness. She loved Stowell; she hated -him; she worshipped him; she despised him. At one moment she -recalled with a bitter laugh the mockery of his questioning of Bessie -Collister in the dock; at the next she remembered with scorching -tears the pathos of his sentencing her. - -Obscure motives were operating in her soul to intensify her pain. -Jealous? She, jealous of that illiterate country girl who had -murdered her illegitimate child--what nonsense! No, her idol was -broken. She had set it so high and now it was in the dust. - -She expected Stowell to come to her as soon as his Court was over. -Again and again she raised her head from her wet pillow to listen for -the sound of his car on the drive. Yet when a knock came at her door -and her maid announced the arrival of the Deemster (never dreaming -that the injunction against callers had been intended to apply to -him) her first impulse was to send him away. - -"Say I'm unwell and can't see him," she cried from her bed. - -But at the next moment she was up and whispering at the door, - -"Show Mr. Stowell into the library and tell him I shall be down -presently." - -Her voice was hoarse; her face was aflame; her eyes were red from -persistent weeping. No water could sponge away those marks of her -emotion. Never mind! He should see how he had made her suffer. She -would go downstairs and charge him, face to face, with his deceit and -hypocrisy, and then--then fling herself into his arms. - -But when she opened the library door and saw him standing on the -hearthrug, with head down and a look of utter abasement, her courage -failed her. She dare not look twice at his ravaged face, so she sank -on to the sofa and covered her eyes with her hands. - -Several minutes passed in which neither of them spoke. There was no -sound except that of his laboured breathing and of the ticking of the -clock on the mantelpiece. "If he does not speak soon," she thought, -"I shall break into tears and fly out of the room." - -But she did not move, and at last came his voice, humble and broken, -and thrilling through and through her: - -"Fenella!" - -She did not answer; she could not; and again, after another moment of -silence, he said, - -"Fenella, I have come to ask you to forgive me." - -She wanted to burst out crying, and to prevent herself from doing so -she broke into a flood of wrath. - -"Forgive you?" she said. "Ask that poor creature in Castle Rushen to -forgive you--that poor girl whom you have just condemned for a crime -that is the consequence of your own sin." - -He did not reply for a moment, and then came the same humble, -unsteady voice, saying, - -"No doubt you are quite right, quite justified, but if you knew -everything--that I could not help myself--that it was the law...." - -"Oh, I know nothing about your laws," she cried, leaping up and -crossing the room, "but they are unjust and barbarous and against -reason and humanity if they allow a girl to be condemned to death for -a crime like that while the Judge who was the first cause of it sits -in judgment on his own victim." - -"You are right there too," said Stowell, "but if you knew how I tried -to avoid sitting on the case, and only allowed myself to do so at -last in the hope of seeing justice done and thereby making some sort -of amends.... - -"Amends!" cried Fenella. "What amends can there be for a wrong like -that? Oh, I hate people who think they can make amends for one fault -by committing another." - -There was silence again for a moment and then Stowell said, - -"You are right there also. There is a kind of wrongdoing that cannot -be atoned for. I see that now. But if you knew how I have suffered -for it and still suffer.... - -"Suffer? Why shouldn't you suffer? Isn't that poor girl suffering? -Hasn't she suffered all along? And whatever you do for her now, -won't she go on suffering to the last day and hour of her life?" - -He dropped his head still lower under the lash of Fenella's scorn. - -"That is not all either," she said in a broken voice, sitting on the -sofa again and brushing her handkerchief over her eyes. "Perhaps -that girl is not the only one who is suffering. I wanted to think so -well of you, to be so proud of you. You were to be the defender of -women, fighting their battle for them when they were wronged and -helpless. And when you became a Judge .... Oh, I cannot bear to -think of it. You have disappointed and deceived me. You are not the -man I took you to be." - -Outside the sun was setting. A dull ray from it was falling on his -haggard face and brushing her bronze-brown hair. - -"I thought you loved me too. It was so sweet to think you loved -me--me only--never having loved anybody else. Every woman has felt -like that, hasn't she? I have anyway. Other men might be faithless, -but not you, not Victor Stowell. And yet, for the sake of your poor -fancy for this country girl...." - -"Fenella!" - -"Oh, what a fool I've been," she cried, leaping up again and dashing -the tears from her eyes. "Forgive you? Never while that girl lies -in prison as the consequence of your sin." - -Stowell could bear no more. Stepping forward, he laid hold of -Fenella by the shoulders, and approaching his face to her face he -said, - -"Listen to me, Fenella. I have done wrong--I know that. I am not -here to excuse or defend myself, and if your heart does not plead for -me I have nothing to say. But I swear before God that I have loved -you with all my soul and strength, and if it hadn't been for that...." - -"Loved me!" cried Fenella, between a laugh and a sob. And then in -the wild delirium of the sheer woman, she said, - -"What proof of your love have you given to me compared to the proof -you have given to that girl? Oh, when I think of it I could almost -find it in my heart to envy her. I do envy her. Yes, degraded and -shamed and condemned and in prison as she is, I envy her, and could -change places with her this very minute. I would have given you -anything in the world rather than this should be--anything, my -honour, myself...." - -"Fenella!" - -"Let me go! You are driving me mad. Leave me. I hate you. I -despise you. You have broken my heart. I thought you were brave and -true, but what are you but a common...." - -"Fenella!" - -"Coward! Hypocrite! Let me go!" - -But she had no need to wrench herself away from him. His hands fell -from her shoulders like lead, and at the next moment she was gone -from the room. - -He stood for a while where she had left him with the echo of her -stinging words ringing in his ears. Bitter, unjust and cruel as they -had been, he was struggling to excuse her. She did not understand. -Bessie had not told her all. Presently she would come back and ask -his pardon. - -But she did not come, and after a while (it seemed like an eternity), -feeling crushed, degraded, trampled upon, dragged in the dust and -wounded in his tenderest affections, he left the room and the house. - -Outside, where his automobile was standing, he still lingered, -expecting to be called back. It was impossible that Fenella would -let him part from her like this. He knew where she was--in the -Governor's smoking-room which overlooked the drive. At the last -moment she would knock at the window and cry, "Stay!" - -Slowly he moved around his car, opening the bonnet, touching the -engine, starting it, pulling on his long driving gloves. But still -she gave no sign, and at length he prepared to step into his seat. -Was this to be the end--the end of everything? - -Meantime, Fenella, alone in her father's room and recovering from the -storm of her anger, was beginning to be afraid. She wanted to go -back to Stowell and say, "I was mad. I didn't know what I was -saying. I love you so much." - -But her pride would not permit her to do that, and she waited for -Stowell to do something. Why didn't he burst through the door, throw -his arms about her, and compel her to forgive him? - -She listened intently for a long time, but there came no sound from -the adjoining room. What was he doing? Presently she heard him -coming out of the library, walking with a firm step down the corridor -to the porch, opening the front door and closing it behind him. - -Was he leaving her? Like this? Then he would never come back. She -heard his footstep on the gravel and looking through the window she -saw him, with his white face, raising his soft hat to wipe his -perspiring forehead, and then climbing into the car. Could it be -possible that he was going away without another word? - -In spite of her jealousy and rage, she felt an immense admiration for -the man who, loving her as she was sure he did, was yet so strong -that he could leave her after she had insulted and humiliated him. -She wanted to throw up the window and cry, "Wait! I am coming out to -you." - -But no, her pride would not permit her to do that either, and at the -next instant the car was moving away. - -She watched it until it had disappeared behind the trees. Then she -turned to go back to her bedroom. At the foot of the stairs she met -Miss Green who, shocked at the sight of her disordered face, said, - -"My goodness, Fenella! What has happened?" - -In the plaintive voice of a crying child, Fenella answered, - -"He has gone. I have driven him away." - -Then she stumbled upstairs, locked the door of her room on the -inside, threw herself face down on the bed, burst into a flood of -tempestuous tears, and cried aloud to Stowell, now that he could no -longer hear her-- - -"Victor! Victor! My Victor!" - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - -THE VOICE OF THE SEA - -"Forgive you? Never while that girl lies in prison as the -consequence of your sin." - -The words beat on Stowell's brain with the paralysing effect of a -muffled drum. He was driving up the mountain road. Char-à -bancs, -full of English visitors (who were laughing and singing in chorus), -were coming down. The drivers shouted at him from time to time. -This irritated him until he realised that his motor-car was -oscillating from side to side of the road. - -When he reached the top, where the road turns towards the glen, all -the heart was gone out of him. The great scene no longer brought the -old joyousness. With love lost and hope quenched the soul of the -world was dead, and the heavens were dark above him. - -At the bottom of the glen, where it dips into the Curragh, he came -upon a group of bare-headed women, with their arms under their -aprons, surrounding a little person with watery eyes, in a poke -bonnet and a satin mantle. Mrs. Collister had returned from -Castletown, and her neighbours were taking her home. - -"Never mind, woman! It will be all set right at the judgment. And -then the man will be found out and punished, too!" - -At the corner of the cross roads Dan Baldromma threw himself in front -of the car, to draw it up, and in his raucous voice he fell on -Stowell with a torrent of abuse. - -"You've been locking up a respectable man, Dempster, but you can't -lock up his tongue, and the island is going to know what justice in -the Isle of Man can be." - -Stowell made no answer. Any poor creature could insult him now. - -Janet was waiting for him at Ballamoar, with a fire in the library, -and the tea-tray ready. But the sweet home atmosphere only made him -think of the happiness that had been so nearly within his reach. - -Seeing that something was amiss, Janet assumed her cheeriest tone, -brought out two patterns of damask, laid them over chairs, and asked -which Fenella would like best for her boudoir. - -"I don't know. I can't say. But .... it doesn't matter now." - -Janet gathered up her patterns and went out of the room without a -word. - -"Forgive you? Never while that girl lies in prison." The stinging -words followed him to his bedroom. They broke up his sleep. They -rang like the screech of an owl through the darkness of the night. - -Next day, not trusting himself to drive his car, he returned to -Castletown by train. There were only two first-class compartments -and both were full. He was about to step into a third-class carriage -when a voice cried, - -"This way, Deemster. Always room enough for you." - -There was to be a sitting of the Keys that day and the compartment -was full of northside members. The talk was about yesterday's trial, -and Stowell realised that his management of the case had created a -favourable impression. Merciful to the prisoner? Yes, until her -guilt was established, but then just, even at the expense of -friendship. - -This led to talk about Gell as the girl's fellow-sinner. - -"Shocking! But it's not the first time he has been mixed up with a -woman." - -Stowell felt an intolerable shame at Gell's undeserved obloquy and -his own unmerited glory, but he could say nothing. - -"It will kill the old man," said one of the Keys. The train had -drawn up at a side station and his voice was loud in the vacant air. - -"Hush!" - -The Speaker was in the next compartment. - -When the train started again a little man with the face of a ferret -began to make facetious references to "Fanny." Stowell's hands were -itching to take the ribald creature by the throat and fling him out -of the window, but something whispered, "Who are you to be the -champion of virtue?" - -At Court that day, and the day following, he found it hard to -concentrate. At one moment an advocate said, - -"Perhaps your Honour is not well this morning?" - -"Oh no! I heard you. You were saying...." - -The rapidity of his mind enabled him to make up for his lapses in -attention, and when his time came to sum up he was always ready. - -He was indulgent to the accused. All the other prisoners were -acquitted--the fat woman for the reason that, bad as her character -might be, the characters of her drunken sailors were yet worse -(therefore no credit could be attached to their evidence), and the -boy who had embezzled on the ground that his superiors at the bank -had been guilty of almost criminal negligence, and the four months he -had been in prison already were sufficient to satisfy the claims of -justice. - -The boy's mother, who was standing at the back, threw her arms about -him and kissed him when he stepped out of the dock, and then, turning -her streaming face up to the bench, she cried, - -"God bless you, Deemster! May you live long and every day of your -life be a happy one." - -Back at home, Stowell plunged into the task of drawing up the report -for the English authorities which was to accompany the recommendation -to mercy. In two days (having his father's library to fall back -upon) he knew more about the grounds upon which the prerogative of -the Crown could properly be exercised than anybody in the island had -ever before been required to learn, and when he had finished his task -he had no misgivings. - -Bessie's sentence would be commuted to imprisonment. And then (life -for the poor soul being at an end in the Puritanical old island) he -must find some secret means of sending her away. - -"Never while that girl...." But wait! Only wait! - -Being legislator as well as Judge, he attended the first meeting of -Tynwald Court after his appointment. The Governor administered the -oath to him in a private room, and then, taking his arm, led the way -to the legislative chamber. - -"Do you know it's six days since you were at Government House, my -boy? What is Fenella to think of you?" - -"Has she .... has she been asking for me, Sir?" - -"Well, no, not to say asking, but still .... six days, you know." - -Stowell sat on a raised daïs between the Attorney-General and -Deemster Taubman, who was sufficiently recovered to hobble in on two -sticks. The proceedings were of the kind that is usual in such -assemblies, the Manx people being the children of their mothers, -loving to talk much and about many things. - -He found it difficult to fix his attention, and was watching for an -opportunity to slip away, when the vain repetitions which are called -debate suddenly ceased and the Governor called on an Inspector by -Police to carry round a Bill which had to be signed by all. - -In the interval of general conversation that followed, Deemster -Taubman, a gruff and grizzly person, leaned back in his seat, put his -thumbs in the armholes of his soiled white waistcoat and talked to -Stowell. - -"You did quite right in that case of the girl Collister, Sir. In -fact you were only too indulgent. I have no pity for the huzzies who -run away from the consequences of their misconduct. Murder is -murder, and there is no proper punishment for it but death." - -"But the Jury recommended the girl to mercy, and her sentence will be -commuted," said Stowell. - -"Eh? Eh? Then you haven't heard what has happened?" - -"What?" - -"The Governor has reported against the recommendation." - -"Reported against it?" - -"Certainly. And as the authorities in London are not likely to read -the report and are sure to act on the Governor's advice, the girl -will go to the gallows." - -Stowell felt as if he had been struck over the eyes by an unseen -hand. As soon as he had signed the Bill (in a trembling scrawl) he -whispered to the Attorney-General that he was unwell and fled from -the chamber. - -"Humph!" said Taubman, looking after him. "That young man is going -to break down, and no wonder. His appointment as Deemster was the -maddest thing I ever knew." - - - -II - -"No, Mr. Stowell, no! You must stay in bed for the next two days at -least. I must really insist this time. No work, no excitement, no -heart-strain. Remember your father, and take my advice, Sir." - -It was Doctor Clucas, who, sent for by Janet, had arrived at -Ballamoar before Stowell got out of bed in the morning. - -With closed eyes Stowell reviewed the situation. It was shocking, -horrible, intolerable. Not for fifty years had a woman suffered the -full penalty of such a crime. He must find some way to prevent it. - -But after a while a terrible temptation came to him. "Why can't I -leave things alone?" he asked himself. - -He had done all he could be expected to do. If the Crown, acting on -the advice of the Governor, refused to exercise its prerogative of -mercy, what right had he to interfere? - -It might be best for himself, too, that the law should take its -course--best in the long run. If Bessie's sentence were commuted to -imprisonment what assurance had he that on coming out of prison she -would allow him to send her away from the island? On the contrary -she might refuse to be banished, and if she found that the blame of -her misfortune had fallen on Gell she might tell the truth to free -him. - -What then? _He_ would be a dishonoured man. His position as a Judge -would be imperilled; his marriage with Fenella would be impossible, -and his whole life would crash down to a welter of disgrace and ruin. -But if Bessie were gone there would be no further danger. And after -all, it would not be he but the law that had taken her life. - -"Then why can't I leave things alone?" he thought. - -He decided to do so, but his decision brought him no comfort. -Towards evening he got up and went out to walk in the farmyard. -There he met Robbie Creer, who was just home from the mill with his -head full of a pitiful story. - -It was about Mrs. Collister. Since her daughter's trial the old -woman had fallen into the habit of walking barefoot in the glen, -chiefly at midnight, and generally in the neighbourhood of the -_Clagh-ny-Dooiney_. At first she had seen a light. Then she had -heard a pitiful cry. She was certain it was the cry of a child, a -spirit-child, unbaptised and therefore unnamed, and for that reason -doomed to wander the world, because unable to enter Paradise. At -length she had taken heart of God and going out in her nightdress she -had called through the darkness of the trees, "If thou art a boy I -call thee John. If thou art a girl I call thee Joney." After that -she had heard the cry no more, and now she knew it had been Bessie's -child, and the bogh-millish was at rest. - -This story of the old mother's developing insanity rested heavily on -Stowell's heart and went far to shake his resolution. - -After a day or two he began to find his own house and grounds -haunted. He could not go into the library without the kind eyes in -his mother's picture following him about the room with a pleading -look. He could not sit in the dining-room after dinner without -remembering his week-ends as a student-at-law, when his father and he -would draw up at opposite cheeks of the hearth, and the great -Deemster would talk of the great crimes, the great trials and the -great Judges. - -But his worst ordeal was with Janet. Not a word of explanation had -passed between them, yet he was sure she knew everything. One -evening, going into her sitting-room, he found her with her knitting -on her lap, and a copy of the insular newspaper on the floor, looking -out on the lawn with a far-off expression. That brought memories of -another evening when he had told her that no girl on the island had -ever fallen into trouble through him, or ever should do. - -"Ah! Is that you, Victor?" she cried, recovering herself and making -her needles click, but he had gone, and her voice followed him from -the room. - -Still wrestling with his temptation to stand aside and let the law -take its course, Ballamoar became intolerable to him. On the lame -excuse of his fortnightly court in the northside town he decided to -go to Ramsey, and wrote to Mrs. Quayle to get his old rooms ready. - -But going from Ballamoar to his chambers was like leaping out of the -fire into the furnace. When he opened a disordered drawer up came -the Castletown portrait of Bessie Collister like a ghost out of the -gloom. When he went for a walk to tire himself for the night his -steps involuntarily turned towards the pier where the lighthouse had -been shattered by lightning. When he returned and was putting the -key in the lock of his outer door he had the tingling sense of a -woman's warm presence behind him. When he pulled down his bedroom -blind the broken cord brought a stabbing memory. And when he awoke -in the morning he felt that he had only to open his eyes to see a -girl's raven black hair on the pillow beside him. - -But Mrs. Quayle's presence was the keenest torment of all. The good -old Methodist moved about him at breakfast without speaking, but one -morning, fumbling with her bonnet strings before going, she said, - -"Deemster, have you remembered this case of Bessie Collister in your -prayers?" - -He removed to Douglas--the Fort Anne Hotel, a breezy place, which -sits on the ledge of the headland and just over the harbour. At -first the babble and movement of the hotel distracted him, but after -a day or two he was drawn back into the maelstrom of his own thoughts. - -Having a private sitting-room he borrowed law books from the Law -Library and sat far into the night to read them. He selected the -treatises on Infanticide--those bitter records of the age-long strife -between the laws of man and of God. Particularly he read the charges -of the British Judges (Scottish too frequently), the bewigged -ruffians who, in the abomination of their Puritanical tyranny, and -the brutal lust of their judicial vengeance, had hounded poor women -to the gallows in the very nakedness of shame. - -"Damn them! Damn them!" he would cry, leaping up with a desire to -trample on the dead Judges' graves. But then the same persistent -voice within would say, "Wait awhile! Who are you to stand up for -justice and mercy?" - -Crushed and ashamed he would creep up to bed through the silent -house, and thinking of the girl whose dark eyes had intoxicated him -in the glen (the girl he had afterwards held in his arms) he would -say, - -"Is it possible that I can stand by and see her given over to the -hangman?" - -That terrified him. In the darkness he pictured to himself the scene -of Bessie's death and burial, and thought of his after-life as a -Judge, when he would have to go to Court to try other such cases--and -Bessie lying out there in the prison-yard. - -After Ballamoar, with its pastoral tranquillity, the twittering of -birds and the sleepy singing of the streams, Fort Anne was sometimes -a tempestuous place, with the wash of the waves in the harbour, the -monotonous moan of the sea outside and the melancholy wail of the -gulls. He thought he heard Bessie's cry in the voice of the sea--her -piercing cry when she was being carried out of Court after he had -sentenced her. - -One night he thought Bessie was dead. He was dead too. They were -standing side by side in an awful tribunal and she was accusing him -before God. - -"He let me die! He killed me! He is my assassin!" - -The sound of his own voice awakened him. A dream! It was the grey -of dawn; a storm had risen in the night; the white sea was rolling -over the breakwater and the sea-fowl were screaming through the mist -and roar. - -No, by God! If it was a question of Bessie witnessing against him in -this world or in the next, he had no longer any doubt which it should -be. No more temptations! No more hypocrisy and self-doubt! No more -wandering about like a lost soul! - -He would go up to the Governor. He would call upon him to withdraw -his objection to the Jury's recommendation. And if he refused .... -he should see what he should see. - -At eight o'clock in the morning he was walking down the quay in the -calm sunshine, looking at the activities of the harbour, and nodding -cheerfully to the fishermen as he passed. He was on his way to -Government House, and his conscience, with which he had wrestled so -long, was triumphant and erect. - -Then came a shock. - -He was crossing the stone bridge that leads up to the town when he -saw the Governor's blue landau coming down in the direction of the -railway station. It was open. Fenella was sitting in it. - -Stowell was certain she saw him. But she only coloured up to the -eyes and dropped her head. At the next instant her carriage had -crossed in front of him and swept into the station-yard. - -Something surged in his throat; something blinded his eyes. But -after a moment he threw up his head and walked firmly forward. - -"Wait! Only wait! We'll see!" - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - -THE HEART OF A WOMAN - -Meanwhile Fenella had been going through her own temptation. On the -night after the trial, having bathed her swollen eyes, she went down -to dinner. Her father looked searchingly at her for a moment, and, -as soon as they were alone, he said, - -"Was it Stowell I saw driving towards the mountain road as I came up?" - -"Perhaps it was," said Fenella. - -"Then why didn't he stay to dinner?" - -"Because .... I told him to go." - -"Why?" - -Fenella gulped down the lump that was rising in her throat and said, - -"I have been deceived in him. He is not the man I supposed him to -be." - -"Don't be a fool, my dear. I understand what you mean. It is his -conduct as a man, not as a Judge you are thinking of. But if every -woman in the world thought she had a right to make a scrutiny into -her husband's life before she married him there would be a fine lot -of marriages, wouldn't there?" - -Crude and even coarse as Fenella thought her father's moral -philosophy, she found her self-righteousness shaken by it. Perhaps -she had been unfair to Stowell. But why didn't he come and plead his -own cause? She couldn't talk to her father, but if Victor came and -told his own story.... - -Victor did not come. For two days her pride fought with her love and -she thought herself the unhappiest woman in the world. Then to -escape from the pains of self-reproach she conceived the idea of a -fierce revenge upon Stowell. She would devote herself to his victim! -Yes, she would make it her duty to lighten the lot of the poor -creature he had ruined and deserted. - -After a struggle, and many shameful tears, she went back to Castle -Rushen, little knowing what a scorching flame she was to pass through. - -By this time Bessie was feeling no bitterness against Stowell. The -jailer had told her that the Deemster could not have acted otherwise. -The law compelled him to condemn her. But he had told the Jury to -recommend her to mercy, and now he would be writing to the King to -ask him to let her off. - -"Aw, he's good, miss--he's real good for all." - -"Do you say that, Bessie? After he has betrayed you?" said Fenella, - -"Betrayed? I wouldn't say that, miss." - -"But he .... he took you to his rooms?" - -"What else could he do, miss? All the inns were shut and it was -raining, and I had nothing in my pocket." - -"But .... having taken advantage of your homelessness and poverty, he -afterwards cast you off?" - -A mysterious wave of injured vanity struggled with Bessie's shame and -she said, - -"'Deed he didn't, then. He wanted to marry me." - -"Marry you .... did you say marry...." - -"Yes, he did, and that was why he sent me to school." - -"But afterwards .... afterwards he changed his mind and turned you -off .... I mean turned you over to somebody else?" - -"'Deed no," said Bessie, with her chin raised. "It was me that gave -him up after I found I was fonder of Alick." - -Breathing hard, scarcely able to speak, with the hot blood rushing to -her cheeks, Fenella compelled herself to go on. - -"Did he know then that you...." - -"No, miss, and neither did I, nor Alick, nor anybody." - -"And when .... when was it that you went...." - -"To his rooms in Ramsey? The first Saturday in August, miss." - -Fenella went home, happy, miserable, tingling with shame and yet -thrilling with love also. Stowell's victim had brought her heart -back to him. - -It was just because he had loved her more than he had loved that girl -in prison that the worst had happened. It was just because she -herself had persuaded, constrained and almost compelled him that he -had sat on the case, not fully knowing what was to be revealed by it. - -This lasted her half-way home in the train, and then her wounded -pride rose again. After all Victor had been faithless to the love -with which she had inspired him. If a man loved a woman it was his -duty to keep himself pure for her. Victor had not done so, therefore -she would never forgive him--never! - -The Governor's carriage met her at the Douglas station, and when -(wiping the scorching tears from her eyes) she reached Government -House, she found another carriage standing by the porch. - -"Miss Janet Curphey is here to see you, miss," said the maid. - - - -II - -From the day of the trial, when Victor had returned home with a white -face and said, "It doesn't matter now," Janet had known what had -occurred. - -That Collister girl had corrupted Victor. She had always feared it -would be so since "Auntie Kitty" had whispered over her counter that -that "forward thing" of Liza Corteen's was boasting that Mr. Stowell -had been "sooreying" with her in the glen. And now she had brought -him under the very shadow of shame itself, just when life looked so -bright and joyful. - -Then came the insular newspaper with an account of Fenella's outburst -at the trial. That was the cruellest blow of all. She had loved -Fenella, and had always thought there would be nothing so sweet as to -spread her wedding-bed for her, but now that she had taken sides -against Victor and publicly denounced him, Janet's blood boiled. She -would go up to Government House and give Fenella a piece of her mind. -Why shouldn't she? - -It was a dull afternoon when she set off for Douglas, and as she -drove along the coast road she rehearsed to herself the sharp things -she was going to say. - -But when Fenella came into the drawing-room, looking so pale as to be -scarcely recognisable as the radiant girl she used to be, and kissed -her and sat by her side, Janet could scarcely say anything. - -At length (Miss Green, who had been sitting at tea with her, having -gone) Janet braced herself, and said, not without a tremor, - -"I've come about Victor." - -"Then he has told you?" said Fenella. - -"'Deed he hasn't, and you needn't either, because I know." - -Fenella drew her hand away and dropped her head. - -"I don't say he hasn't done wrong," said Janet, "but you seem to -think he's the only one who is to blame." - -"Oh no! I see now that the girl in Castle Rushen...." - -"The girl? I'm not thinking about the girl. Of course she is to -blame. But is there nobody else to blame also?" - -"Who else?" - -"Yourself." - -"Janet!" - -"Oh, I'm telling you the truth, dear. That's what I've come for." - -"But it all happened before I returned to the Island." - -"That's why. If you hadn't stayed away so long it wouldn't have -happened at all." - -Then up from the sweet and sorrowful places of Janet's memory came -the story of Stowell's love for Fenella--how he had worked for her -and waited for her through all his long years as a student-at-law. - -"It's me to know, my dear. He used to come home every week-end, and -his poor father thought it was to see him, but I knew better. 'Any -fresh news?' he would say, and I knew what news he wanted. When your -photo came he held it under the lamp and said, 'Don't you think she's -like my mother, Janet--just a little like?' And I told him yes, and -that was to say you were like the loveliest woman that ever walked -the world--in this island anyway." - -Fenella was struggling to control herself. - -"Poor boy, how he worked and worked for you! Jacob never worked -harder or waited longer for Rachel. And what was his reward? You -signed on at your ridiculous Settlement for seven years and sent word -you would never marry. I had it from Catharine Green and it was a -sorrowful woman I was to break the news to him. He looked at me with -his mother's eyes, and it was fit enough to break my heart to see how -he cried with his face on the pillow. But it was with his father's -eyes he rose and said, 'It shall never happen again, mother.' He -called me mother too, God bless him!" - -Fenella was smothering her mouth in her handkerchief. - -"If he went wrong after that, was it any wonder? Young men are young -men, and the Lord won't be too hard on them for being what He has -made them. Some people seem to think when trouble comes between a -young man and a young woman that the young woman is the only one to -be pitied. Well, I'm a woman and I don't. And when a young man has -been cut off from the love that would have kept him right and the -heavens have gone dark on him...." - -"But I loved him all the time, Janet." - -"Then why didn't you come back, instead of leaving him to the mercy -of these good-looking young vixens who will run any risks with a -young man if they can only get him to marry them?" - -Fenella's eyes were down again. - -"But that's not all. Not content with deserting him for so many -years, you must try to disgrace him also." - -"Janet!" - -"Oh, I saw what you said at the trial." - -"But nobody knows whom I...." - -"Don't they indeed! The men may not--most of them are so stupid. -They may even think you meant somebody else. But you can't deceive -the women like that. And then he knew that you intended it for him. -Just when you were about to become his wife, too, and you were the -only woman in the world to him!" - -"I was so shocked. I thought he wasn't the man I had taken him for." - -"Perhaps he wasn't, perhaps he was, but thousands of women have lost -faith in their men and clung to them for all that, and they're the -salt of the earth, I say. I'm only an old maid myself, but to stand -up for your husband, right or wrong, that's what _I_ call being a -wife, if you ask me." - -Fenella could bear up no longer. She flung her arms about Janet's -neck and buried her face in her breast. - -The darkness was gathering before they broke from their embrace and -then it was time for Janet to smooth out her silvery hair and go. -Fenella saw her to the carriage and whispered as she kissed her, - -"Tell him to come back to me." - -And then Janet went home with shining eyes. - - - -III - -Day after day Fenella waited at home for Victor, denying herself to -everybody else. Every afternoon she dressed herself in some gown he -had said he liked her in. She dressed her hair, too, in the way he -liked best. But still he did not come. - -At length she determined to write to him. Writing was a terrible -ordeal. Her pride fought with her love and she could never satisfy -herself with her letters. First it was-- - - - "DEAR VICTOR,--Don't you really think you've stayed away long - enough? Remember your 'Manx ones'--especially your lovely and - beloved Manx women--won't they be talking?" - - -But no, that was too much like threatening him, so she began again-- - - - "DARLING,--Did you really think I meant all I said that day? - Don't you know a woman better than that? I suppose you think I - am very hard-hearted and can never forgive, but...." - - -No, that was wrong, too. - - - "VICTOR,--Don't you think I have been punished enough? It has - been very hard for me, yet I love you still...." - - -But the trembling of her handwriting betrayed the emotion she wished -to conceal. At last, after a long day of solitude and abandonment, -two little lines-- - - - "Vic,--I am so lonely. Come to me. Your - broken-hearted--FENELLA." - - -But all her letters, with their cries and supplications, were torn up -and thrown into the fire. - -Why did he stay away? Did he expect her to bridge all the gulf -between them? At length she thought he must be ill. The idea that -he could be suffering (for her sake perhaps) swept down all her -pride, and she determined to go to him. - -But just as she was setting out for Ballamoar somebody brought word -that Stowell was staying at Fort Anne. That quenched her humility. -So near, yet never coming to see her! Oh, very well! Very well! - -For two days she felt crushed and abased. Then she heard that -Stowell was constantly to be seen at the Law Library, and that -brought a memory and an explanation. She remembered that she had -said (in that wild moment when she didn't know what she was saying) -that she would never forgive him while the girl Bessie lay in prison. - -That was it! He was finding a solid legal ground on which the -prisoner could be liberated, and when he had convinced the law -officers of the Crown that this was a proper case for the exercise of -mercy, he would come up to her and say, "Bessie Collister is -free!--the barrier between us is broken down." - -For a full day after that her heart was at ease. Nay more, she was -almost happy, for hidden away in some secret place of -semi-consciousness was the thought that the measure of Stowell's -efforts for Bessie Collister was the meter of his love for herself. - -At length her impatience got the better of her tranquillity and she -became eager to know what was going on. There was only one person -who could tell her that--her father. - -Coming down to breakfast on the sunny morning after the storm, she -saw, among the letters by the Governor's plate, a large envelope -superscribed, "_HOME SECRETARY_." When her father had opened it she -said, as if casually, - -"Any news yet about that poor thing in Castle Rushen?" - -"Yes, there's something here." - -"Of course she's pardoned?" - -"On the contrary, her death-sentence has been confirmed." - -"Confirmed?" - -"Yes, she's to die, and it only remains for me to fix the date of the -execution." - -The sun went out as before a thunderstorm, and, rising from her -unfinished breakfast, Fenella fled from the room. A great wave of -pity seemed to sweep down every other feeling. She determined to go -to Castle Rushen again and break the news tenderly to the unhappy -woman. - -On her way to the railway station her mind swung back to Stowell. -After all he could have done nothing to save the girl's life. It was -inconceivable that the authorities in London could have been -indifferent to the opinion of the Judge who had tried the case. - -"No, he can have done nothing--nothing whatever." - -Then came a shock to her also. - -As her carriage dipped into the hill going down to the station she -saw Stowell coming up from the bridge with rapid strides. Something -told her that, having heard the news, he was going to Government -House to protest. But what was the good of going now? Useless! -Worse than useless! - -One glance she got of his face before she dropped her own. It was -whiter and thinner than before, as if from sleepless nights and -suffering. She wanted to stop; she wanted to go on; she did not know -what she wanted. - -At the next moment her coachman, who had seen nothing of Stowell, -being occupied with the difficulties of the hill, had swept into the -station-yard. - -When she got out of the carriage her heart was burning with the pangs -of mingled love and rage. - -"If that girl dies in prison there shall never be anything between -us--never," she thought. - -But deep in her heart, almost unknown to herself, there was a still -more poignant cry, - -"He does not care for me--he cannot." - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - -THE MAN AND THE LAW - -When Stowell reached Government House he found the Governor in the -garden, bareheaded and smoking a cigar of which he was obviously -trying to preserve the ash, while he watched his gardener at his work -of repairing the ravages of last night's storm among the flower-beds. - -"Ah, you've come at last! But you have just missed Fenella. She has -gone to Castletown--that girl again, I suppose." - -"I know. I saw her. That's the matter I've come to speak about." - -"So? Oblige me then by walking here so that I may keep an eye on the -gardener." - -Stowell winced, but stepped to and fro on the path by the Governor's -side while in a low tone he broached his business. - -"Deemster Taubman told me at Tynwald that you had reported against -the Jury's recommendation." - -"Well?" - -"I thought perhaps you would permit me to explain the exact legal -position." - -"Yes?" - -"It is fifty years at least since the prisoner has been executed on -this island for that crime." - -"Fifty, is it?" - -The Governor blew his light blue smoke into the lighter blue air and -watched it rising. - -"Deemster Taubman seems to think that a prisoner who has wilfully -taken life is necessarily a murderer. That is wrong, Sir." - -"Wrong?" - -"Quite wrong. It is established by the laws of this and every -civilised country that it is the reason of man which makes him -accountable for his action and the absence of reason acquits him of -the crime." - -"And is there any ground for thinking that this girl was not -responsible?" said the Governor. - -"Every ground, Sir. No woman in her position ever was or can be -responsible." - -"No? .... Gardener, don't you think those tulips...." - -"That's why the law of England," continued Stowell, "has ceased to -look upon infanticide as a crime punishable by death. In some -foreign countries it is not looked upon as a crime at all. The woman -who kills her child within five days after its birth is thought to be -suffering from temporary mania and therefore not guilty of murder. -Besides...." - -"Besides--what?" - -Stowell breathed heavily and then said, - -"There are exceptional circumstances in this case which call for -merciful treatment." - -"You mean...." - -"I mean," said Stowell, speaking rapidly and in a vibrating voice, -"that the girl had no bad motives such as usually inspire murder--no -greed, no lust, no desire for revenge. In fact, she meant no harm to -anybody. On the contrary it is conceivable that she meant good--good -even to her child--to save it from a life of suffering in a world in -which it would have no father, no family, and nobody to care for it -but its shamed and outcast mother." - -The Governor looked at Stowell for a moment and thought. - -"He's ill, and he's trying to unload his conscience." - -Then he said aloud, - -"So you've come to ask me to...." - -"I've come to ask you, Sir, to withdraw your objection to the -recommendation to mercy, so that the death sentence may be commuted -to imprisonment." - -Again the Governor looked at Stowell's heated face and thought, "Yes, -he'll ill, and doesn't see that I am fighting his own battle. - -"Do it, Sir," said Stowell. "Do it, for God's sake, before it is too -late, and there is such an outcry throughout the kingdom as will -shake the very foundations of justice in the island." - -The Governor was still smoking leisurely and keeping his eye on his -flower-beds. - -"Gardener, don't you think that bed of geraniums...." he began, but -Stowell could bear no more. - -"Good God, Sir, isn't this matter of sufficient importance to merit -your attention?" - -The Governor turned sharply upon him, threw away his half-smoked -cigar and said, - -"Come this way." - -Not another word was spoken until, returning to the house with a -certain pomp of stride, with Stowell behind him, the Governor reached -his room and closed the door behind him. Then, unlocking his desk, -he took out a large envelope (the same that Fenella had seen at -breakfast) and handed the contents of it to Stowell, saying, - -"Look at that." - -Stowell saw at a glance what it was and uttered a cry of astonishment. - -"Then it's done." - -"Yes, it's done. And now sit down and listen to me." - -But Stowell continued to stand with the paper crinkling in his -trembling fingers. - -"You say Taubman told you I reported against the Jury's -recommendation. Quite true! As President of the Court and head of -the Manx judiciary, I told the Home Secretary I saw no justification -for it--no justification whatever." - -Stowell was silent. - -"You say it is fifty years since such a crime has been punished by -death. Perhaps it is, but the fact that the Statute remains is proof -enough that the law contemplates cases in which it may properly be -exercised. This in my view was such a case and I had every right to -say so." - -Still Stowell remained silent. - -"You say the prisoner may have acted from a good motive. I see no -good motive in a mother who takes the life of her child. You speak -of her shame, but shame is no excuse for crime. Why shouldn't such -women suffer shame? Shame is the just consequence of their evil -conduct, and to try to escape from it by making away with their -misbegotten children is crime." - -Stowell was trembling but still silent. - -"Pity for women of that sort is sentimental weakness. Worse, it is a -danger to public safety. The sooner such people are put out of the -world the better for the public good." - -There was a palpable silence on both sides for some moments. The -Governor glanced at Stowell's twitching face and began to be sorry -for him. "Good Lord!" he thought, "why can't the man see that it's -best for himself that the girl should die? As long as she lives the -wretched scandal may break out again and his own share in it may come -to light. And then Fenella! How could I allow her to marry him with -that danger hanging over his head?" - -Stowell's fingers were contracting over the paper that crinkled in -his hand. At length he threw it on the desk and said, - -"Your Excellency, if you carry out that sentence you will be -committing a crime--a monstrous judicial crime." - -The Governor returned the paper to his desk, and then rose and said, -with a ring of sarcasm in his voice, - -"So I am the criminal, am I? Well, I am responsible for public -security in this island, and as long as I am here I am going to see -that it is preserved. Offences of this kind have been too frequent -of late and they can only be put down by law. The prisoner in the -present case has been justly tried and rightly condemned, and it -shall be my business to see that she pays the penalty of her crime." - -Stowell's pale face had become scarlet, his lower lip was trembling. -Outside the sea was sparkling in the sunlight; a band was playing far -off on the promenade. - -"Your Excellency," said Stowell, quivering all over, "it will be a -life-long grief to me to resist your authority, but I must tell you -at once that if you order that girl's execution it shall never be -carried out." - -"What do you say?" - -"I say it shall never be carried out." - -"Why not?" - -"Because _I_ shall prevent it." - -The Governor rose. His face was red, his throat had swelled; his -lips were compressed. - -"Do you mean that you will go over my head...." - -"I do...." - -The Governor brushed Stowell aside in making for the bell. - -"There's no heed for that. I'm going, Sir," said Stowell, and at the -next moment the Governor was alone in his room, speechless with -astonishment and wrath. - -Going down the corridor Stowell passed the open door of the -library--the room in which he had parted from Fenella. In -quarrelling with her father had he burnt the last bridge by which -Fenella and he could come together? - -"But, God forgive me, I could do nothing else--nothing whatever." - - - -II - -Fenella found that the tragic news had reached Castle Rushen before -her. - -Bessie had received it at first with incredulity. Her expectation of -pardon had reached the point of conviction, and every morning as she -rose from her plank bed, she had said to herself, "It will came -to-day." - -When Tommy Vondy went into the condemned cell, blowing his nose -repeatedly and talking about death, how it came to everybody sooner -or later, Bessie looked at him with terror and screamed, "Oh, God -help me! God help me!" - -For a while she raved like a madwoman. Everybody had lied to her and -deceived her, and the Deemster had done nothing to save her, because -he wanted her out of the way. - -But after a while an idea occurred to her and she became calm. Alick -Gell! If Alick would go up to London and see the King and tell him -that she had never intended to kill her baby he would forgive her. -And then Alick would come galloping back, at the last moment perhaps, -waving a paper over his head and crying, "Stop!" - -She had seen such things in her illustrated Weekly Budget--the story -paper she used to read on Sunday mornings at home, while the dinner -was cooking in the oven-pot and her mother was singing hymns in the -Primitive chapel and her father was poring over the "Mistakes of -Moses." - -But would he do it? She had deceived him twice. And then his -sisters had always been trying to drag him away from her. - -All at once, like the echo of a bell through a thick mist over the -sea, came the memory of his cry as she was being carried out of -Court: "Never mind, Bessie, I would rather be you than your Judge!" - -Yes, he loved her still, and (out of the cunning which the air of a -prison breeds) a scheme flashed upon her. She would write a letter -to Alick Gell, not telling him what she wanted him to do, but plainly -pointing to it. - -Fenella was amazed to find Bessie apparently reconciled to her end. -She had expected torrents of tears and even the coarse language of -the farmyard. - -"The suspense was the worst. I shall be glad when it's all over," -said Bessie. - -The only thing that troubled her was to die while Alick was thinking -so hard of her, and if her hand did not shake so much she would write -to ask for his forgiveness. - -"I'll write for you," said Fenella. - -"And will you give the letter into his own hands, miss, so that his -sisters may not see it?" - -"I'll try, dear." - -Sitting by the door of the cell, under the light from the grill, -Fenella wrote with the prison paper on her lap, while Bessie, without -a vestige of colour in her forlorn face, dictated from the bed: - - - "DEAR ALICK,--You will have heard what they are going to do to - me. It is dreadful, isn't it? I thought perhaps you would have - written me a few lines, though I know it is too much to expect - after all the sorrow and shame I have brought on you. - - "Oh, if I could only have lived to make it up to you! We could - have gone away, as you always said, to America or somewhere. I - should have been so good, and we should have been so happy and - nobody to cast all this up to us. - - "What I did was very wrong, but I don't see what good it will do - to the King to take my life, and me a poor girl he never saw in - the world. I still think if there were anybody to speak for me - he would forgive me even yet and everything would be all right. - But that's more than anybody would do for me now, I suppose--even - you, though I have always loved you so dear." - - -Bessie paused. - -"Is that all?" asked Fenella, in a husky whisper. - -"Not quite," said Bessie, and she began again. - - - "Mother was here last week and brought me your photo. It got wet - in my bag on the way from Derby Haven, and it is cracked and - smudged. But I kiss it constant and it is such company. - - "Good-bye, Alick! My last thoughts will be of you and my last - prayer that God will bless you. If I could only see you for a - minute I think I should be satisfied. But if you can't come, - write and say you forgive me. It has been all through my love - for you that I am here, so think the best of me." - - -Bessie signed the letter, filling up the remaining space with -crosses, and then wrote with her own hand-- - - - "P.S.--It's a weak to-day, so if anything is to be done there's - no time to lose." - - -Fenella saw through the girl's pitiful subterfuge, but knew well that -Gell could do nothing. There was only one man in the island who -could have saved Bessie, and that was the Judge who had tried her. - -Why hadn't he? - -All the way home in the train Fenella asked herself this question. -The only answer she could find was that Stowell was afraid of -offending the Governor, owing so much to him. But oh, if he had only -resisted her father in this case--standing up against him and fearing -no one--how she would have loved him! - -She found Government House shuddering with awe, as if a tornado had -swept through it and gone. At length Miss Green explained what had -happened. Mr. Stowell had called to see the Governor and been turned -out of the house! - -Hardly had she reached her room when her father followed her into it. - -"I suppose you know that Stowell has been here?" he said. - -"Yes. What did he come for?" - -"To threaten me--that's what he came for. To threaten me that if I -attempted to carry out the sentence of the law on that girl in Castle -Rushen he would prevent it." - -Fenella tried to conceal the joy that was rising within her. - -"What do you think he intends to do?" she asked. - -"Appeal to the Home Secretary against me, I suppose. I shouldn't -wonder if he leaves the island in the morning. And if he does, and -brings back a pardon, it will be a vote of censure upon me--nothing -short of it." - -The Governor strode across the room in his wrath, and then suddenly -drew up on seeing that Fenella was smiling. - -"But I see who is the cause of the man's insane conduct," he said. - -"Who?" - -"You! You've broken with him, haven't you? Because he had the -misfortune to encounter that woman long ago you hold him responsible -for everything she has done since. So to satisfy your ridiculous -qualms he falls back upon me. The fool! The damned fool! And you -are no better! I don't know what's taking possession of women in -these days. I'm sick to death of their feminist imbecilities and the -braying of their male asses!" - -"But father...." - -"Don't talk to me," said the Governor, and with blazing eyes he swept -out of the room. - -Then Victor _had_ done something! He _did_ care for her! And now he -was going to take some great risk to save the life of the girl in -prison. - -A momentary qualm about her duty to her father was swept down by the -tide of her love for Stowell. After all, he was the man she had -thought him to be! God bless and speed him! - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - -"AND GOD MADE MAN OF THE DUST OF THE GROUND" - -Stowell had travelled far by this time. - -When he left Government House in the heat and flame of his anger he -was at war with God and man. There was a kind of self-defence in -thinking that, however deep his own wrong-doing, the whole world was -full of infamy. - -He found that news of the forthcoming execution had reached Fort Anne -before he returned to it. To avoid the whispering groups in the -public rooms he packed his bag and took the afternoon train to -Ballamoar. - -Alone in the railway carriage he had time to review the situation. -His visit to the Governor had been a wretched failure. But even if -it had been a success what would have been the result to Bessie -Collister? Substitution of the jail for the gallows. Instead of -death, three years, five years, perhaps ten years' imprisonment. -Thank God he had not succeeded! - -"But what am I to do now?" he asked himself. - -Appeal to London? Useless! The Home officials would support the -resident authority, and, having made a hideous error, they would be -reluctant to correct it. - -"Then what can I do?" he thought. - -Suddenly he saw that every argument he had used with the Governor -against putting Bessie to death applied equally to keeping her in -prison. This was not a question of degrees of guilt--of murder or -manslaughter. Either Bessie was guilty of murder and ought to be -executed or she was not guilty (not being responsible) and ought to -be set at liberty. - -"Then the law under which she has been condemned is a crime," he -thought. - -This terrified him. All his inherited instinct of reverence for the -justice and majesty of the law revolted. - -"The law a crime! Good heavens, what am I thinking about?" - -And yet why not? Why had there been so much misery in the world? -Was it because of the crimes committed against the law? No, but -chiefly because of the crimes committed by the law. Yes, that was -the real key to the long martyrdom of man throughout the ages. - -"If a law is a crime it ought to be broken," he told himself. - -But how! There was only one proper way in a free country--through -Parliament and by the slow uprising of the human conscience. But -that was a long process, and meantime what would happen in this case? -Bessie would be dead and buried! That must not be! No, the law that -had condemned Bessie Collister must be broken at once--now! - -"But who is to break it?" - -He trembled at that question, but found only one answer. It shivered -at the back of his mind like the white water over a reef at the neck -of a narrow sea, and it was not at first that he dared to think of -it. But at length he saw that since he had been the instrument of -the law in dooming Bessie to death it was he who must set her free. - -When he reached this point on his dark way he was horrified. - -"What? A Judge break the law!" - -He thought of his oath as Deemster and of the execration that would -fall on him if found out. He remembered his father's motto: "Justice -is the most sacred thing on earth." No, no, it was impossible! His -honour as a Judge forbade it. - -But, as the train ran on, the call of nature conquered and he asked -himself what, after all, was his honour as a Judge compared with that -poor girl's life? - -"Nothing! Nothing!" - -Bessie Collister must not die! She must not remain in prison! She -must escape! He must help her to do so. Secretly, though, nobody -knowing, not even the girl herself or Fenella. - -At St. John's, a junction between the north of the island and the -south, the Bishop of the island stepped into Stowell's compartment. -He had been holding a confirmation service at a neighbouring church, -and a company of young girls, in white muslin frocks, were seeing him -off from the platform. While the carriages were being coupled he -stood at the open door and said good-bye to them. - -"And now go home, dear children, and have your suppers and get to -bed. Home, sweet home, you know!" - -But the children would not go until they had sung again in their -sweet young voices the hymn they had just been singing in -church--"Now the day is over." By the time the engine whistled and -the train was moving out of the station, they had reached the verse-- - - "_Comfort every sufferer, - Watching late in pain, - Those who plan some evil - From their sin restrain._" - - -Stowell dare not look at them. He was thinking of the girl in Castle -Rushen and picturing to himself a similar scene of joy and innocence -which might have taken place only a few years before in the station -by the glen. - -"Ah!" said the Bishop, settling himself in his seat. - -He was a short, dapper, almost dainty little man, who talked -continually like the brook that often runs behind a Manx cottage and -fills it with cheerful chatter. - -"I suppose you've heard the news, Deemster?" - -He produced a small evening newspaper. - -"That poor young person in Castle Rushen is to be executed after all! -Terrible, isn't it?" - -Stowell bent his head. - -"I really thought that after your address to the Jury she would have -been pardoned. But who am I to set up my opinion against that of the -King's advisers? And then think of the effect of bad example! Those -dear children, for instance, they are not too young to remember. And -if that unhappy girl had got off who knows what effect...." - -Stowell, nursing the fires of his rebellion, hardly heard the running -stream of commonplace. - -"And then Holy Wedlock! I always say that every act of carnal -transgression is a sin against the marriage altar." - -The train was running along the western coast; the sun was setting; -the Irish mountains were purple against the red glow of the sky -behind them. - -"And then think of the poor soul herself! It may be best for her -too! God knows to what depths she might have descended!" - -Stowell wanted to burst out on the Bishop, but a secret voice within -him whispered, "Hold your tongue! Say nothing!" - -"All the same, I'm sorry for the poor creature, and only yesterday I -was using my influence to get her into a Refuge Home for Fallen Women -across the water." - -The train drew up at the station for Bishop's Court, and the Bishop, -after a cheerful adieu, hopped like a bird along the platform to -where his carriage stood waiting for him, with its two high-stepping -horses and its coachman in livery. - -Stowell's heart was afire. - -"Refuge Home! Send some of your fashionable women to your Refuge -Homes! Holy Wedlock! There are more fallen women inside your Holy -Wedlock than outside of it!" - -At the station for the glen Stowell got out himself, and there he saw -a different spectacle--an elderly woman in a satin mantle, surrounded -by a group of other elderly women in faded sun-bonnets. - -It was Mrs. Collister again. In one hand she held her blackthorn -stick, and in the other she carried a small bundle in a print -handkerchief--probably containing her underclothing. - -Stowell understood. The news about Bessie had reached her home, and -the heart-broken (almost brain-broken) old mother was waiting for the -south-going train to Castletown. - -A hush fell on the women when Stowell stepped out of the railway -carriage, but as he made his way to his dog-cart at the gate, he -heard one of them say, - -"It's a wicked shame! But you'll be with the poor bogh at the end -and that will comfort her." - -A kind of savage pride had taken possession of Stowell. - -"Not yet! Not yet!" he thought. - -The law was wrong, therefore it was right to resist the law. It was -more than right--it was a kind of sacred duty. - - - -II - -From that time forward the Judge went about like a criminal. - -He stayed at home the following day to think out his plans. All his -schemes revolved about Castle Rushen. The great, grey, bastioned -fortress--how was he to get the prisoner out of it? - -His first idea was to use the jailer, who was a simple soul and had -obligations to his family. But he abandoned this thought rather from -fear of the old man's garrulous tongue than from qualms of conscience. - -It was Tuesday, and Bessie's execution had been fixed for the Monday -following, but the day passed without bringing any better thought to -him. - -Somewhere in the dark reaches of Wednesday morning an idea flashed -upon him. It was usual for one of the Deemsters to make an annual -examination of the prisons of the island, the time being subject to -his own convenience. Stowell determined to make his examination of -Castle Rushen now. - -At eleven o'clock he was going round the Castle with the jailer. -There were two sides to the prison, a debtor side and a criminal -side, and they went over both--the jailer complaining of decaying -doors and rusty padlocks, and the Deemster, with a sense of shame, -pretending to make notes of them, while his eyes and his mind were on -other matters. - -"Not much chance of a prisoner escaping from a place like this, Mr. -Vondy." - -"Not a ha'porth! Those old Normans knew how to keep people out--and -in too, Sir. But there's one cell you haven't looked at yet, your -Honour--the girl Collister's." - -"We'll leave her alone, Mr. Vondy. How is she now, poor creature?" - -"Wonderful! That cheerful and smart you wouldn't believe, Sir." - -"Then she doesn't know...." - -"'Deed she does, Sir. But she thinks Mr. Gell, the advocate, is up -in London getting her pardon, and she's listening and listening for -his foot coming back with it." - -Stowell went to bed on Wednesday night also without any scheme for -Bessie Collister's escape. But in the grey dawn of Thursday morning, -when the world was awakening from a heavy sleep, another idea came to -him. The Antiquarian Society of the island had made him a -Vice-President when he became a Deemster, and having opened up -certain portions of the Castle that were outside the precincts of the -prison, they had asked him to inspect their discoveries. - -With another spasm of hope, Stowell returned to Castletown. - -"Give me your lantern, and let me wander about by myself, Mr. Vondy." - -"'Deed I will, Sir. Your Honour knows the Castle as well as I do." - -There was said to be a subterranean passage under the harbour for -escape in case of siege. Stowell found it (a noisome, slimy, -rat-infested place, dripping with water) but the further end of it -had been walled up. - -There was a foul dungeon in which a Bishop had been confined when he -came into collision with the civil authorities, and tradition had it -that he had preached through a window to his people on the quay. -Stowell found that also, but the window was narrow and barred. - -There were ramparts round the four-square walls, but on one side they -looked down into the back yards of the little houses that lay against -the great fortress and on the other three sides they were exposed to -the market-place, the Parliament-square and the harbour. - -For the second time Stowell went home in the lowering nightfall with -a heavy heart. As the time approached for the execution his -agitation increased, and on Thursday night also he tossed about, -thinking, thinking. At length he remembered something. He had a key -to the Deemster's private entrance to the Castle, and though the door -was always bolted on the inside, a plan of escape occurred to him. - -On Friday morning he was in the jailer's room. It had been the -guard-room of the Castle and was hung about with souvenirs of earlier -times--maps, plans, a cutlass that had been captured in a fight with -Spanish pirates, a blunderbuss that had been used by Manx Fencibles, -a keyboard, a line of handcuffs, and a rope, in a glass case, that -had been used in the hanging of a Manx criminal. - -"You haven't many prisoners in the Castle now, Mr. Vondy?" - -"Aw, no! Didn't your Honour discharge all but one at the last -General Gaol?" - -"And not much company?" - -"Only Willie Shimmin, the turnkey, and he's a drunken gommeral, -always wanting out, and never sure of coming back at all." - -"What about your female warder?" - -"Mrs. Mylrea? A dying woman, Sir. Not been here since the trial, -and if it wasn't for Miss Stanley...." - -"Does she come often?" - -"Nearly every day now, Sir." - -At that moment there was the clang of a bell. - -"There she is, I'll go bail," said the jailer, and snatching a big -key from the keyboard he turned to go. - -In the collapse of his better nature Stowell was afraid to meet -Fenella, knowing well she would see through him. - -"Don't trouble about me, or mention that I'm here," he said, and -picking up his lantern he made a show of going on with his researches. - -But as soon as the jailer had disappeared he turned rapidly to the -Deemster's door and had opened it and stepped out and closed it -behind him, before the jailer and Fenella (whose voices he could -hear) had emerged from the Portcullis into the court-yard. - -It was done! Light had fallen on him at last. Now he knew how -Bessie Collister was to escape from Castle Rushen. - -But it was not enough that Bessie should escape from her prison; she -must escape from the island also; and to do so by means of the -regular steam packet from Douglas to England was impossible. Was -this to be another and still greater difficulty? - -The tide was up in the harbour and the fishing-boats were making -ready to go out for the night. As Stowell walked down the quay he -saw a blue-coated and brass-buttoned elderly man coming up with -unsteady steps--the harbour-master. A sudden thought came to him. -Why not by a fishing-boat? - -He remembered his night with the herrings on the Governor's yacht, -when, lying off the Carlingford sands, he had seen the lights of -Dublin. Why could not a fishing-boat steal away in the darkness and -put Bessie ashore in Ireland? - -It was the very thing! Only it must not be a Castletown boat, lest -she should be missed when the fleet came back to port in the morning. -Why not a Ramsey boat, or, better still, a boat from Peel? - -After dinner that night he walked on the gravelled terrace in front -of the house. The moon was shining in a pale sky and the bald crown -of old Snaefell was visible through the motionless trees. He drew up -on the spot on which he had first parted from Fenella, and a warm -vision of the scene of so many years ago returned to him. Then came -the memory of their last parting and of the scorching words with -which she had driven him away from her. - -"But wait! Only wait!" he thought. - -He was satisfied with himself. He was sure he was doing right. He -even believed God was using him as an instrument of His divine -justice, to correct the infamy of the world by a signal action. It -was one of those lulls between the wings of a circling storm which -come to the soul of man as well as to nature. - -He was almost happy. - - - -III - -Next morning, under pretext of the Deemster's fortnightly Court at -Douglas and of important business to do before it, Stowell -breakfasted by the light of a lamp and the crackling of a fire, and -set out in his car for Peel. - -Soon after six he was descending into the little white fishing-port -that lies in the lap of its blue circle of sea, with the red ruins of -its Cathedral at its feet and the green arms of its hills behind it. - -The little town was still half asleep. Middle-aged women were -gutting herrings from barrel to barrel, while blood dripped from -their broad thumbs; old men were baiting lines with shellfish; -cadgers' cart were standing empty at the foot of the pier, with their -horses' heads in bags of oats and chopped hay; a hundred -fishing-boats by the quay, with their sails hanging slack from their -masts, were swaying to the ebbing tide, and an Irish tramp steamer, -the Dan O'Connor, was lazily letting down the fires under her black -and red funnel. - -But at the pier-head, close under the blind eyes of the Cathedral, -there was a scene of real activity. It was the fish auction for the -night's catch. The auctioneer, an Irishman, was standing on a -barrel, with a circle of fish-cadgers around him, and an empty space, -like a cock-pit, in front, to which the long-booted fishermen, one by -one, with ponderous agility, were carrying specimen baskets of -herrings and dropping them down on the red flags with a thud. - -"Now, gintlemen, here's your last chance of a herring this week. -We're a religious people in the Isle of Man and sorra a wan more will -ye get till Tuesday." - -Stowell, who had drawn up his car, and was standing at the back of -the crowd, was startled. How had he come to forget that Manx fishing -boats did not go out on Saturday or Sunday? Was this going to defeat -his plan? - -The fish auction went on. - -"Now, min, what do you say to forty mease from the _Mona_? -Thirty-five shillin'! Thank you, Mr. Flynn! Any incrase on -thirty-five?" - -"Thirty-six and a quid for yourself if you'll lave me to put a sight -up on the wife," said a voice from the back of the crowd. - -During the laughter which the rude jest provoked, Stowell looked at -the speaker. He was the skipper of the Irish tramp steamer--a -grizzly old salt, spitting tobacco juice from behind a discoloured -hand, and having rascal written on every line of his face. - -Turning away, Stowell walked slowly to the further end of the bay, -and as slowly back again. A new scheme had occurred to -him--something better than a fishing-boat, far better. He was now -more sure than ever that the Almighty was using him for His righteous -ends since even his failures of memory were helping him. - -By the time he returned the auction was over. The pier was empty and -nobody was in sight except the Irish Captain who was standing on the -deck of his ship by the side of the cabin companion. After looking -to right and left, Stowell saluted him. - -"Where are you going to when you leave Peel, Captain?" - -"To Castletown, Sir." - -"And from there?" - -"To wherever the dust" (the money) "looks brightest." - -"May I come aboard, Captain? I have something to say to you." - -"Shure!" - -After another look to right and left, Stowell stepped on to the -steamer and followed the Captain to his cabin. - -When he came on deck, half-an-hour later, his face was flushed. - -"Then it's settled, Captain?" - -"Take the world aisy--it's done, Sir." - -"At what time will it be high water on Sunday night?" - -"Elivin o'clock, Sir." - -"You'll sail immediately your passengers come aboard?" - -"The minit they put foot on deck, Sir." - -"What about the harbour-master?" - -"Him and me are same as brothers." - -"And the turnkey?" - -"Willie Shimmin? He's got a petticoat at the 'Manx Arms.'" - -"You have no doubt you can do it?" - -"Divil a doubt in the world, Sir." - -Stowell, back in his car, was driving to Douglas. The Judge had -bribed a blackguard, but he was still sure that he was doing God's -service. - -Only one thing remained to do now, and through the long hours of an -uneasy night he had thought of it. It was not even enough that -Bessie Collister should escape from the island. If she were not to -be tracked and brought back it was essential that somebody should go -with her. Who should it be? There was only one answer to this -question--Alick Gell. - -Would Alick go? He must! Betrayed and deceived as he had been, if -he did not see that he must forgive the woman who had faced death for -him, and save her from an unjust punishment, Stowell would feel like -taking him by the throat and choking him. - -But would Gell forgive him also? That was a different matter. -Memory flowed back, and he saw again the fierce yet broken creature -who had come stumbling into Ballamoar on the night after the -adjournment, crying in the torment of his betrayal, "Damn him, -whoever he is! Damn him to the devil and hell!" - -"No matter! I must face it out," thought Stowell. - -He must unite those two injured ones. And perhaps some day, when -they were gone from the island, and safe in some foreign country, the -Almighty would accept his act as a kind of reparation and cover up -all his wretched wrongdoing in the merciful veil which is God's -memory. But meantime he must go about for a few days longer, a few -days after to-day, warily, secretly, unseen and unsuspected by -anybody. - -Driving into Douglas, he came upon the Chief Constable, Colonel -Farrell (a cringer to all above him and a bully to all beneath), who -hailed him and said, - -"Just the gentleman I wished to see, Sir. It's about Mr. Gell. Ever -since you sentenced that woman of his he has been threatening you, -and we've had to keep a close watch on him. But he seems to be going -out of his mind, and I've been warning the Speaker that we may have -to put him away. The other night he gave us the slip and we believe -he went to Ballamoar." - -"Well?" - -"We wish you to allow a plain-clothes man to go about with you for -the next few days." - -Stowell was startled. - -"No, certainly not. It is quite unnecessary," he said. - -"Well, if you say so it's all right, Sir. Still, with a madman -about, who may make a murderous attack on you...." - -"Where is he now?" - -"In his chambers." - -"Good-morning, Colonel!" said Stowell, and before the Chief Constable -had replied he was gone. - -A few minutes later the policeman who, for the protection of the -Deemster, was on point duty outside Gell's rooms was astonished to -see the Deemster himself go up the carpetless staircase. - -At a door on the second landing, with Gell's name on it in white -letters, he stopped and knocked. The door was not opened, but he -heard shuffling steps inside and knocked again. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - -OUT OF THE DEPTHS - -Alick Gell, also, had travelled far. - -After his temporary detention at Castletown, he had returned to -Douglas in a frenzy. - -For four days everything had fed his fury. Having no housekeeper he -took his meals in a neighbouring hotel which was frequented by his -younger fellow-advocates. Sitting alone in a corner he spoke to none -of them, but they seemed to be always speaking at him. In loud -voices they praised Stowell--his eloquence, his knowledge, above all -his impartiality, his superiority to the calls of friendship. - -This was gall and wormwood to Gell. He wanted to come face to face -with Stowell that he might charge him with his treachery. He knew -the police were watching him, but one day he eluded them and took the -train to Ballamoar. - -It was evening when he got there. The cowman, who lived in the -lodge, told him the master was out in his car and might not return -until late. To beguile the time of waiting Gell walked in the lanes -and woods about the house. These evoked both kind and cruel -memories, the worst of them being the memory of the day when he -stammered his excuses for loving Bessie Collister, and Stowell had -said, "Good-bye and God bless you, old fellow!" What a scoundrel! - -The darkness gathered. There was the last bleating of the sheep, the -last calling of the curlew (like the cry of a bird without a mate), -and then night fell, dark night, without a star, and still Stowell -did not come. - -Where was he? Gell thought he knew. He was at Government House with -Fenella Stanley. They were reconciled, of course; they were kissing -and caressing, while Bessie .... but no, he dare not think of that. - -What stung him most was the thought of the money he had taken from -Stowell. It had been neither more nor less than the price of -Bessie's honour. He remembered the Peel fisherman who had burnt his -boat. How he wished he had the money now that he might ram it down -Stowell's throat! - -There had been rain and the frogs were croaking, but otherwise the -air was still. All at once the silence of the Curraghs was broken by -a low hum. Stowell's car was coming! Looking down the long straight -road Gell saw its two white headlights opening the darkness like a -reversed wedge. Then in a moment, unpremeditated, unprepared for, -his wild thirst for personal vengeance returned to him. - -"Now, now," he thought, and he closed the gates to give himself time. - -But when Stowell came up and got out of his car to open them, and his -lamps lit up his face, a mysterious wave of emotion heaved up out of -the depths of Gell's soul. Something took him by the throat and -cried "Stop! What are you doing?" and he dropped back into the -deeper darkness of some bushes behind one of the gate-posts. He must -have made a noise, for Stowell cried, - -"Who's there?" - -But Gell made no answer, and at the next moment Stowell was back in -his seat and gliding up the drive. - -After that, horrified by the homicidal impulse which had so suddenly -taken possession of him, Gell kept to his rooms for several days, -going out only at night, with the collar of his coat up to his ears, -to eat and drink in the tap-room of a low tavern on the quay. - -He had been denying himself to everybody who called at his chambers, -but one morning there came an unsteady knock, followed by a -peremptory voice, saying, - -"Alick, let me in!" - -It was his father, and an inherited instinct of obedience compelled -him to open the door. He was shocked to see the change in the -Speaker. His burly figure had become slack, his clothes (especially -his trousers) baggy, his long beard thinner and more white, the crown -of his head bald. Only his red eyes, with their unquenchable fire, -remained the same. - -The old man sat down heavily with his stick between his knees, and -his trembling hands on its ebony handle. - -"I didn't expect that I should have to come here, but Farrell says -that since that trial at Castletown you have not been responsible, -and if things go farther he'll have to put you away." - -"Put me away?" - -"Don't you understand?--the asylum." - -"He doesn't know, father, and neither do you...." - -"I don't want to know. If you had listened to me long ago this -wouldn't have happened. But I'm not here to reproach you. I'm here -to advise you to do something for your own good--mine, too, -everybody's." - -"What is that, father?" - -Gell had expected the usual storm and his father's emotion was moving -him deeply. - -"Leave the island before anything worse happens. Look" (the Speaker -drew a stout envelope from his breast pocket), "I've just been to the -bank for you. A thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, and if -it's not enough there's more where that came from. Take it and go -away at once--to America--anywhere." - -Alick drew back and his lips tightened. "This is a trick to get me -to desert Bessie," he thought. - -"I can't do it," he said, and he pushed back the old man's trembling -hand. - -The Speaker fixed his red eyes on his son, and said, - -"Alick, I must tell you something. I've heard on good authority that -they are going to hang that girl." - -"They can't. Some of them would like to, but they can't." - -"They can and they will, I tell you." - -"Then I'll .... I'll murder...." - -"There you are! That's what Farrell says. A little more and you'll -be capable of anything. Go away, my boy. Think of me. It has taken -me forty years to get to where I am. I was born neither an -aristocrat nor a pauper, but I've got my hand on all of them. That's -just the kind of man both sorts would like to pull down. If my son -disgraced me I should have to give up everything. Go, my son, go." - -"I can't, father, I can't." - -The old man passed his hand over his bald head and in a low voice he -said, - -"Perhaps I've not been a good father exactly, but there's your -mother. Bad as it would be for me it would be worse for her. She -has only one son--one child you might say--and since that affair at -Castletown she has never been out of doors--just creeping over the -fire with her feet in the fender. If you don't want to bring your -mother to her grave...." - -Gell felt as if his heart were breaking. - -"But I can't, I can't!" - -"You mean you won't?" - -"Very well, I won't." - -The old man's voice thickened--the storm was coming. - -"And for the sake of this woman who killed her brat...." - -"Call her what you like. I'll stay here until she comes out of -prison, and then .... then I'll marry her." - -"You fool! You damned heartless fool! God forgive me for bringing -such a fool into the world." - -Struggling to his feet the old man made for the door. But having -reached it, and while tugging at the handle, he stopped and said, - -"Look here, I'll give you one more chance." - -He took the stout envelope out of his breast pocket again and flung -it on to Alick's desk. - -"There's the money and this is Monday. If you are not off the island -by this day week I'll not leave matters to Farrell--I'll have you put -into a madhouse myself to prevent you from plunging us all into -disgrace and ruin. Idiot! Fool! Madman!" - - -He screamed like a sea-gull until his breath was gone, and then, -gesticulating wildly, went downstairs with heavy thudding steps like -a man walking on stilts. - -A few minutes later Gell, going to the window with wet eyes, saw his -father on the opposite side of the street, looking up at the house as -if half minded to return. His stick fell from his nervous hand, and -with difficulty he picked it up. It dropped again, and a passer-by -handed it back. Then he went off in the direction of the railway -station, dragging his feet after him. - - - -II - -Frightened by what his father had said about the intention of the -Chief Constable to have him arrested as insane, Gell stayed indoors -altogether. - -This meant days without food. At first he drank a great deal of -water, being very thirsty. Then his thirst abated and his head began -to feel light. After a while he became dizzy, and even in the -darkness everything seemed to float about him. - -On the morning after his father's visit he heard a woman's step on -the stairs, followed by her knock at his door. He thought it was his -sister Isabella and that she had come, with her sharp tongue, to -remonstrate, so he made no answer. - -On the day following he heard the same light step. Isabella again! -But no, she had always railed against Bessie, and he was not going to -give her another opportunity of doing so. - -Meantime, without food or drink, he was travelling fast towards the -borderland of the desert realm of Insanity, with its -cruelly-beautiful mirages. - -Lying on his sofa with eyes closed he was picturing to himself the -day of Bessie's release, when he would go to Castletown to bring her -away, and then the day after, when he would marry her, and then the -day after that when they would leave the island for America--Bessie -walking along the pier with head down, but himself with head up, as -if saying, "There you are--I told you so!" - -The knock came again, and again he did not answer it. "No, no, -Mistress Isabella! You shan't speak ill to me of the woman who cared -so much for me that she went to prison for my sake." - -He had still travelled farther by this time. He was out in the -middle-west, on one of the high plains of that free continent. He -was working at his profession. He was not a great lawyer, but he -could speak out of his heart, and when he defended injured women -juries heard him and judges listened. - -He saw them coming to him from far and near--that long trail of the -broken followers after the merciless army of civilisation. They were -nearly always poor and could pay him nothing. But what matter about -that? At home, at night, wet or cold, there was a bowl of soup, a -cheerful fire and .... Bessie! - -On the Saturday morning he awoke from a dizzy sleep, with the sun -shining into his room and the sea outside the breakwater singing -softly. He was in his shirt sleeves, for he had thrown himself on -the bed in his clothes; his boots were unbuttoned; his fair hair was -tangled; he had not shaved for many days. - -Again he heard the light step on the stairs. But something in the -rustle of the dress seemed to say that after all it was not his -sister. He listened. There were two knocks, louder and more -insistent than before; then the rattle of the brass lid of his -letter-box, and then something falling on the floor. - -A letter! After the light footsteps had gone downstairs he crept -over the carpet on tiptoe, picked up the letter and looked at it. -There were two lines at the top, partly printed, and partly written-- - -"_Castle Rushen Prison--Number 7._" - - -Gell stared at the blue envelope, and then with trembling fingers -tore it open. It was the letter which Bessie had dictated to Fenella -Stanley. She was to die, and was calling on him to save her. -Through her heart-breaking words he could hear her cries and -supplications. The letter had been written five days ago, and in two -days more she was to be executed! - -Whatever he had been before, Gell was no longer a sane man now. He -was thinking of Stowell and cursing him. Oh, that God would only put -it in his power to punish him! - -Then he remembered that this was the Deemster's fortnightly -Court-day. The Court began to sit at eleven, and it was now -half-past ten. - -He would go across to the Court-house. Why not? He was an -advocate--nobody dare refuse him admission to a Court of Law. And as -soon as Stowell stepped on to the bench he would rise in his place -and cry, "You scoundrel! Come down from the Judgment seat! Because -you were rich you thought you could buy a man's soul and a woman's -body. But take that, and that!" and then he would fling his father's -money into Stowell's face. - -At that moment, having parted from the Chief Constable, Stowell was -driving down the street. - -Gell dragged his black bag from the corner into which he had thrown -it on returning from Castletown, and put on his gown without -remembering that he was in his shirt-sleeves, and then his wig, -without knowing that his hair was dishevelled. - -He was staggering from weakness and the pictures on the walls were -going round him with an increasing vertigo, but he was struggling to -regain his strength. - -He heard a step on the stair (a man's step this time) and then a firm -knock at his door. - -"Farrell!" he thought. The Chief Constable was coming to arrest him. -But nobody should do that yet--not until he had come face to face -with Stowell. - -The knock was repeated. - -"Go away!" he cried. - -Then he pulled open the door, and found Stowell himself standing on -the threshold. He fell back breathless. Stowell entered the room -and closed the door behind him. - - - -III - -"Alick!" - -"Go away!" - -"I have something to say to you." - -"Go away, I tell you." - -"But I have something to tell you." - -"There's only one thing you can tell me. Is it true--is she to die?" - -"It .... it is so appointed." - -"Then take that," cried Gell, and flinging himself upon Stowell with -the fury of madness he struck him in the face and laid open his -cheek-bone. - -There was an awful silence. Gell had staggered to a bookcase behind -him, expecting Stowell to strike back. But Stowell remained -standing, and then said, with a break in his voice, - -"I have well deserved it." - -That was too much for Gell. He began to stammer incoherently and -when he saw a streak of blood begin to flow down Stowell's cheek he -broke down altogether. Out of the depths of a thousand memories of -their friendship, all the way up since they were boys, a great tide -of tenderness came surging over him, and he dropped into a chair and -cried, - -"Then it's true--I'm mad." - -But after another moment he was up and hurrying into the next room -for a sponge and a basin of water. - -"It's nothing! Nothing at all," said Stowell. "See, it has stopped -already. And now sit down and listen." - -A few minutes later they were sitting side by side on the sofa--Gell -sniffling, Stowell talking quietly. - -"Alick!" - -"Yes?" - -"Bessie is waiting for you. She thinks you are trying to obtain her -pardon." - -"I know. She has written. But what can _I_ do? Nothing!" - -"If _I_ can help her to escape from Castle Rushen will you take her -away from the island?" - -Gell's eyes glistened. "Only give me the chance," he said. - -"She could never come back. Therefore you could never come back -either." - -"What do I care?" - -"You would have to give up everything--your inheritance, your family, -your....!" - -"I .... I can't help that." - -"You are sure you would never regret the sacrifice?" - -"Never! Only show me the way...." - -"I will," said Stowell. - -And then he explained his scheme and the motives which had inspired -it. He had been compelled to condemn the girl, according to law, but -he had come to see that the old Statute was a crime, and that it was -his duty to break it. - -"Do you say that, Victor--you?" - -"Listen." - -An Irish tramp steamer would be lying in Castletown Harbour on Sunday -night. She would berth in front of the Castle, not more than fifteen -yards from the gates. At eleven o'clock Stowell would open the -Deemster's private door and bring Bessie out. Gell must be there to -take her aboard. The tide being up, the vessel would sail -immediately. She would sail north, past the Point of Ayre, to give -the appearance of going to Scotland; but in the morning, when out of -sight from the land, she would steer south and land her passengers at -Queenstown. Atlantic liners called there twice a week and Gell and -Bessie must take passages to New York. On reaching New York they -must travel west--far west.... - -"But can it be done? Can you get Bessie out of the Castle?" - -"I've counted every chance," said Stowell. "Whatever happens, I must -not fail." - -"What a good fellow...." began Gell, but Stowell dropped his head and -hurried on with his story. - -"I've given the Irish Captain a hundred pounds, and you are to give -him another hundred when he puts you ashore at Queenstown. I'll find -you the money." - -"No, no! I've enough of my own--see," said Gell, and he showed the -bundle of banknotes given to him by his father. - -"Your father gave you that?" - -"Yes, to pay my way to America." - -Stowell's face glowed with a kind of superstitious rapture. More -than ever now he was certain he was doing right, that the Divine -powers were directing him. But all the same he kept up the cunning -of the criminal. - -"I must see you again to-morrow night in some secret place. Where -shall it be?" - -"Why not the Miss Browns' at Derby Haven? They'll hold their -tongues. They owe me something." - -"Very well, eight o'clock, Sunday night," said Stowell, and he rose -to go. - -"What a good fellow...." began Gell again, but Stowell looked at him -and he stopped. - -The Deemster's Court had to wait for the Deemster. When he arrived -with a patch of plaster on his cheek-bone, he told Joshua Scarff that -he had accidentally knocked his face against a gas-bracket and had -had to go to a chemist to get the wound dressed. - -It was an intricate case he tried that day, but the advocates engaged -in it said he had never before been so cool, so clear, so collected. - -"After all, the Governor knew what he was doing," they told -themselves. - -That night, Saturday night, after a furtive visit to the tavern on -the quay, Gell slipped through the back streets to the railway -station and leapt into the last train for the north as the carriages -were leaving the platform. - -He was going home to say good-bye to his mother--not with his tongue, -for he had no hope of speaking to her, but with his eyes and his -heart. If he could only see her for a moment before leaving the -island! - -It was late when he reached the lane to his father's house, and the -night was dark, for it was the time between the going and the coming -of two moons. - -At length the blacker darkness of the house stood out against the -gloomy sky. There was no light in any of the windows--the family had -gone to bed. But Alick had been born there, and he thought he could -find his way blindfold. - -For some time he walked stealthily about, trying to discover the -dining-room window, for he remembered what his father had said about -his mother sitting with her feet in the fender. He found it at last, -but, peering behind the edge of the blind, he saw nothing except the -dull slack of the fire dropping to ashes in the grate. - -Groping about in the darkness on the gravel his footsteps had made a -noise and presently a dog inside began to bark. It was his own dog, -Mona, and he remembered that when he was a boy he had bought her as a -pup for five shillings from a farmer and brought her home in his -arms, licking his hand. - -The dog's clamour awakened the household, and presently, through the -long staircase window, he saw his sisters on the landing, in their -nightdresses and curl-papers, carrying candles and looking frightened. - -Then the sash of a window went up with a bang and his father's voice -came in a husky roar through the night, - -"Who's that?" - -With a chill down his back, Alick turned about and hurried away, -feeling that he was being driven from the home of his boyhood as if -he were a thief. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - -THE ESCAPE - -Next day was Sunday. It was a blind day at Ballamoar, with a chill -air and white mists sweeping up from the sea. - -In the morning Stowell went to church. In the afternoon he sat in -the Library, reading in many volumes the stories of prison-breakings -and escapes. He saw that in nearly every case of failure chance had -played a part at the last moment, and he thought hard to foresee -every possible contingency. - -Towards evening he brought his car round from the garage and told -Janet not to wait up for him. She had delivered Fenella's message -("Tell him to come back to me") and thought she knew where he was -going to. He was going to Government House. The sweet old soul was -very happy. - -"I'll leave the piazza door on the catch, dear," she said, as he was -going off into the moving shadows of the trees. - -By the time he reached Castletown the mist had deepened to a fog. -The broad tower of the Castle looked monstrously large and forbidding -against the gloom of the sky, and the fog-horn of the light-house on -Langness was blowing with a measured and melancholy sound across the -unseen sea. - -Coming upon a tholthan (a ruined cottage) by the roadside he ran his -car into it, and then walked into the town. - -The little place was once the capital of the island, and still -retained many of its primitive characteristics. There were no lamps -in the streets, which were therefore quite dark. Only a few of the -houses gave out light, for the younger children were already in bed, -and their parents were trooping to church or chapel. - -The church bells were ringing. Save for that, and the footsteps of -his fellow pedestrians who walked in the darkness beside him, Stowell -heard nothing but the blowing of the far-off fog-horn. Everything -favoured his design. "It was meant to be," he told himself. - -Nevertheless he was conscious of making his steps light and of trying -to escape observation. He took the least frequented thoroughfares, -so that he might walk fast and not be recognised, but in a narrow -lane that ran along under the Castle he came upon a pitiful spectacle -and was compelled to stop. - -An elderly woman, wearing little except her nightdress, with her feet -bare and her long grey hair hanging loose, was kneeling on the paved -way and praying. - -"Oh Lord, as Thou didst send Thine angel to take Peter out of prison, -send him now to take my poor girl out of the Castle." - -By a dull light from a curtained window, Stowell saw who the poor -demented creature was. It was Mrs. Collister. Little as he desired -it, he had to pick her up and take her home. - -"Come, mother," he said, raising her to her feet. - -She looked into his face with awe, and permitted herself to be led -away by the hand like a child. A group of boys and girls who had -gathered round told him where she lived and that she was the mother -of the woman who was to be "hangt" in the morning. - -Just then the people, a man and his wife, with whom she lodged, came -hurrying up, saying they had left her in bed while they went into -their yard on some errand and on returning to the kitchen they had -missed her. - -In a few moments they were all at the open door of the house, a tiny -place two steps down from the street, with a lamp burning on the -table. - -Finding the light on his face Stowell said Good-evening and hurried -away, but not before the man and his wife had seen him. - -"That must be the young Dempster," said the man. - -"It was his father," said Mrs. Collister. - -"But his father is dead, woman," said the wife. - -"It was his father, I tell thee," said Mrs. Collister, and they let -her have her way. - -Still the church-bells rang, the fog-horn blew and Stowell stepped -lightly through the dark streets of the little town. He passed the -new Methodist chapel with the dark figure of the pew-opener against -the coloured glass screen of the vestibule; the barracks, with the -sentinel pacing outside and a number of red-coated soldiers in a bare -room within, smoking and playing cards. The market-square was ablaze -with light from the windows of the church (the same at which Bessie -had kept Oie'l Verree) and the shadowy forms of the congregation were -passing in at the porch. - -At length he reached the quay with its smell of rock-salt and tar. -The _Dan O'Connell_ was lying under the Castle gates, lazily getting -up steam, and the Captain was smoking by the gangway. - -"Everything right, Captain?" - -"Everything, Sir." - -"Will the fog interfere?" - -"Not a ha'porth, yer Honour." - -"What about the Harbour-master?" - -"In church with the wife, but I'm to have supper with him after the -sarvice and take a bottle of something." - -"And the Turnkey?" - -"Blind polatic at the 'Manx Arms,' Sir." - -There came a dull hammering from the inside the Castle. Stowell -shivered. - -"Will they be gone in time?" - -"Going back by the last train they're telling me." - -"You'll whistle when you're clear away?" - -"Shure!" - -As Stowell crossed the foot-bridge at the back of the Church, he -heard the congregation singing the opening hymn ("Nearer, my God, to -Thee") and thought he knew the subject of the forthcoming sermon. -The melancholy blowing of the fog-horn was coming through the -blindness of the sea; the revolving light was blinking in and out on -Langness. - -A quarter of an hour later he was at Derby Haven. Most of the houses -of the little port were dark, but the window of one of them gave out -a faint light. Stowell tapped at it and Gell opened the door. - -For two hours they sat together in the old maids' stuffy -sitting-room, talking in whispers. Stowell gave Gell his last -instructions. - -"You remember that there are two gates to the Castle?" - -"Yes." - -"At eleven o'clock exactly, the moment the clock has ceased striking, -you'll ring at the big gate, and then step round to the Deemster's." - -"Yes!" - -"Somebody will open the gate. It will be the jailer. If he calls -you'll make no answer." - -"Yes?" - -"Yes?" - -"As soon as he has closed the big gate the little one will be opened -and Bessie will be brought out to you." - -"Yes?" - -"That's all. You know the rest." - -After that there was a cold silence, quite unlike the warmth of -yesterday. Each was thinking of the cruel thing which had come -between them, and neither dared to talk about. At length Gell, -taking something from his pocket, said, - -"I owe you some money." - -"No, you don't. Remember the terms I lent it on." - -"Then take this anyway," said Gell, handing Stowell a sealed envelope. - -After that there was another long silence, and then Gell said, in a -thick voice, - -"When we're far enough away I'll write." - -"No, no!" - -"Do you mean that I'm never to write to you?" - -"Never." - -"But I will .... I must...." - -"Don't be a damned fool, man. Can't you see you never can?" - -There was a pause. - -"Victor," said Gell, "that's the first unkind word you have ever said -to me." - -"Alick," said Stowell, "it shall be the last." - -The wash of the tide (it was near to the flood) on the stones of the -shore, the monotonous blowing of the fog-horn and the deliberate -ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece were the only sounds they -heard except the irregular heave of their own breathing. - -The two men were alternately watching the fingers of the clock and -gazing down at the pattern of the carpet. At a few minutes to ten -Stowell got up and said, - -"I must go now." - -"I'll walk down the road with you," said Gell. - -They walked side by side in the mist until they came to the ruins of -Hango Hill (where long before Alick had had his fight with the -townsmen) and were breast to breast with King William's College. - -"You had better go back now. We must not be seen together," said -Stowell. - -They stood for some moments without speaking. The clock in the -school tower was striking ten. The school itself was in darkness. -Another generation of boys were lying asleep in it now. - -"I suppose we've got to say good-bye," said Gell. - -Stowell made no reply, but he took Gell's hand and there was a long -handclasp. Then they separated, Stowell going on towards the town, -and Gell turning back to Derby Haven. Each had walked a few paces -when Gell stopped and called, - -"Vic!" - -"What is it?" - -There was a pause, and then, in a thick voice, - -"Nothing! S'long!" - -And so they parted. - -There was loud laughter and a voice with a brogue from a house on the -quay with the blind down but the top sash of the window partly open. -The church was dark and the market-place silent, save for the -measured tread of the sentry. - -But as Stowell crossed the square he heard a light step and saw -through the thick air the shadowy form of a woman coming from the -direction of the Castle and going towards the hotel opposite. - -He hung back until she had passed, and when the door of the hotel -opened to her knocking, and the light from within rushed out on her, -he saw who it was. - -It was Fenella. Stowell understood. She had come from the cell of -the condemned woman, and was sleeping in Castletown that night in -order to be with her in the morning. - -"But wait! Only wait!" - -In spite of his certainty that Providence was on his side he stepped -more lightly than ever as he went down to the quay. - -The funnel of the Irish steamer was now throbbing hard, and a few -sailors on the forward deck were swearing. Save for this and the -wash of the tide against the sides of the harbour, all was still. - -Stowell looked around and listened for a moment. Then he stepped up -to the Deemster's door and pulled the bell, and heard its clang -inside the walls. - - - -II - -"Ah, is it you, Dempster? You've come for Miss Stanley? She's just -gone, Sir." - -"I know. I saw her. Are you alone, Mr. Vondy?" - -"Alone enough, Sir. It's shocking! The night before an execution -too! That Willie Shimmin, the drunken gommeral, went off at four and -isn't back yet. I wouldn't trust but I'll be here by myself until -the High Bailiff and the Inspector and long Duggie Taggart come at -six in the morning." - -"How is your prisoner to-night, Mr. Vondy?" - -"Wonderful quiet, Sir." - -"Still expecting her pardon?" - -"'Deed she is, poor bogh, and listening for Mr. Gell's feet to fetch -it. Now she thinks he'll come in the morning. 'Something tells me -he'll come at daybreak,' she said, and that's the for she's gone to -sleep." - -They had reached the guard-room, where a fire was burning, and an old -oak armchair (once the seat of the Kings of Man) was drawn up in -front of the hearth. - -"Gone to sleep, has she? I must see her though. I have something to -tell her." - -"Is it the pardon itself, Sir? Has it come then?" - -"Not yet, but a telegram may come from London at any moment." - -"You don't say?" - -"Give me your key, and sit here and make your supper" (a kettle was -singing on the hob), "and if you hear the bell you will go off to the -gate immediately." - -"I will that, Sir." - -At the end of a long corridor Stowell stopped at a cell that had a -label on the door-post ("Elizabeth Corteen, Murder. Death") and -looked in through the grill. In the dim light he saw the prisoner -lying on her plank bed under her brown prison blanket. With a tremor -of the heart he opened the door quietly and closed it behind him. - -"Bessie!" - -It had been hardly more than a whisper, but through the mists of -sleep Bessie heard it. There was a cry, a bound, and then a -rapturous voice saying in the half darkness, - -"Ah, you are here already! I knew you would come." - -But at the next moment, seeing who her visitor was, she stared at him -with wide-open eyes, and then fell on him with reproaches. - -"So it's you, is it? What have you come for? Is it only to tell me -that I'm to die in the morning?" - -Stowell stood with head down, feeling like a prisoner before his -Judge. Then he said, - -"You are not to die, Bessie." - -She caught her breath and put up her hands to her breast. - -"Do you mean that I am...." - -"You are pardoned and have to leave this place immediately." - -For a perceptible time Bessie stood silent, save for her breathing, -which was loud and rapid. - -"Is it true? Really true?" - -"Quite true." - -There is something childlike in sudden joy; Paradise itself must be a -place of children. Bessie dropped back on her bed, clasped her hands -together like a child, and said, - -"I see it all now, and it has been just as I thought at first. You -wrote a letter to the King and he has pardoned me. The law is hard -but the King is so tender-hearted. 'Poor girl,' he thought, 'she -didn't mean to kill her baby--not after it came, anyway.'" - -Her eyes, which had been glistening, suddenly became grave, and -lifting them to the ceiling, with her hands clasped before her face, -she began to pray. - -"Oh God, I've not been a good girl and I don't know how to pray -right, but...." and then came a flood of words too sacred to be set -down. - -When she had finished her prayer she said, - -"But you have been good too, and I have been insulting you! That's -the way with a girl when she has been in trouble. You'll forgive me, -won't you?" - -Her face lit up and she went on talking, more to herself than to -Stowell. - -"Did you say I was to leave this place immediately? That means first -thing to-morrow, doesn't it? I'll go to mother. She's staying with -some Methodist people in Quay Lane. Poor mother, she won't be able -to believe it. We'll go home by the first train." - -Thinking of home she found a kind of proud revenge in triumphing over -her enemies. - -"Dan Baldromma will have to hold his tongue now. And those -Skillicornes will never be allowed to show their ugly old faces -again. And Cain the constable will have to find another beat, too, -and those impudent girls who stared at me at Douglas station--they'll -never have the face to sit in the singing-seat again." - -But the smiling background of her thoughts was love. - -"Alick will hear of it, won't he? I wrote to him but he didn't -answer. Perhaps his sisters prevented him--they've always been -casting me up to him. Poor Alick! He'll forgive me--I know he will. -It was for Alick I did it. And just think! Next Sunday, perhaps, -when people are walking about, we'll go downs Parliament Street -together! And me on Alick's arm, and nobody to say a word against -it, now that the King has forgiven me!" - -Stowell hardly dared to look at the girl. For a long time he could -not speak. But at length he compelled himself to tell her that she -was not to go home. It was a condition of her pardon that she should -leave the island. - -"Leave the island?" - -"Yes, there's a steamer in the harbour, and you are to sail by it -to-night." - -"To-night?" - -"Yes, to Ireland, land from there, by another steamer, to New York." - -"To New York?" - -"Yes, but Alick is to go with you. I've just left him. We have -arranged everything." - -She looked searchingly into his agitated face and the radiance died -off her own. - -"But are you telling me the truth?" she said. "Am I really pardoned? -You are not helping me to escape, are you?" - -He pretended to laugh--It was hollow laughter. - -"What an idea! A Deemster helping a prisoner to escape! Who would -believe such a thing?" - -"No! People wouldn't believe such a thing, would they?" she said, -and her eyes again began to shine. - -"At eleven o'clock the big bell will ring," said Stowell. "That will -be Alick coming for you. You must give me your hand and I'll take -you down to him." - -"Oh, how happy we shall be!" she said. "We shall go far away, I -suppose--where nobody will know what has happened here?" - -"Yes, but you must make no noise on going out, and not call to -anybody." - -"But Mr. Vondy--he has been so good--I may stop and thank him?" - -"He won't be there. I'll give him your message." - -"But mother--if I'm going so far away I must say good-bye to her." - -"No, I'm sorry, the steamer will sail immediately." - -She looked again into his agitated face and then, raising her voice, -she said, - -"Mr. Stowell, you are deceiving me. I have not been pardoned. You -_are_ helping me to escape." - -"Hush!" - -But (again in a loud voice) she cried, - -"Don't lie to me any longer. Tell me the truth." - -He hesitated for a moment, and then he told her. Yes, he was helping -her to escape. He had tried to procure her pardon and failed, so he -had determined to set her free. - -While she listened to his tremulous voice she became a prey to a -strange confusion. For days she had felt as if she hated this man, -and now a mysterious feeling of warmth from the past came over her. - -"But what about you?" she asked. - -"I can take care of myself," he answered. - -"But if anything becomes known after Alick and I have gone...." - -"Nothing _will_ become known." - -"But if anything does, and you get into trouble...." - -"Bessie," said Stowell (he was breathing hard), "I did you a great -wrong a year ago...." - -"No, that was as much my fault as yours. I have been praying and -praying for pardon, but rather than run away now and leave you to -.... No, I won't go!" - -There was a moment of uneasy silence and then Stowell said, - -"Alick is waiting outside for you, Bessie. He is ready to give up -everything in the world for your sake. Are you going to break his -heart at the last moment?" - -"But I can't! I can't! I .... I won't! And you shan't either. Mr. -Vondy! Mr. Von--...." - -"Be quiet! Be quiet!" - -She had tried to reach the door, but he had thrown his arms about her -and was covering her mouth to smother her cries. Ceasing to shout -she began to moan, and then he tried to coax her. - -"Come, girl! Trust me! I know what I'm doing. Pull yourself -together. Stand up! It's nearly eleven o'clock. You'll have to -walk to the gate presently. Come now, be brave." - -But her eyes had closed, and by the dim light from the grill he saw -that she was insensible. - -"Bessie! Bessie!" he whispered, but she was lying helpless in his -arms. - -For a moment he was bewildered. Of all the chances that might -prevent success this was the only one he had not counted with. But -at the next instant his mind, which was working with lightning-like -rapidity, saw a new opportunity. - -"Better so," he thought, and laying the unconscious woman on her bed -he hurried back to the jailer. - - - -III - -"Mr. Vondy! Mr. Vondy! Your prisoner is ill." - -The jailer, who had fallen asleep after his supper, staggered to his -feet. - -"God bless my soul! And the doctor living at the other end of the -town too." - -"Never mind the doctor! Brandy! Quick!" - -"There isn't a drop in the Castle, Sir." - -"Yes, there's a flask in my room. Take these" (giving him a bunch of -keys) "and go for it." - -"Where will I find it, Sir?" - -"I don't know. I can't remember. Look everywhere--in every drawer, -every cupboard." - -"I will, your Honour." - -"Don't come back without it." - -"I won't, Sir." And still in the mists of sleep the jailer picked up -his lantern from the table and staggered off. - -Stowell listened to the sounds of the old man's retreating footsteps -until they had died away. - -"This will give more time," he thought--he had sent the jailer on a -fruitless errand. - -It was then five minutes to eleven. Returning to the cell he lifted -Bessie in his arms and carried her out of the prison. At first he -was no more conscious of her weight than he had been of the weight of -the sheep on the mountains. - -But outside it was very dark, and at every uncertain step his burden -became heavier. In the open space between the main building and the -outer walls the fog lay thick as in a well, and it was as much as he -could do to see one foot before him. - -Over the wooden drawbridge his feet fell with a thudding sound, but -he groped for the grass at the bottom of the stone steps, so that he -should not be heard on the gravel path. - -There was no sound in the court-yard except that of the fierce -belching from the funnel of the steamer, the wash of the tide in the -harbour, the boom of the sea in the bay and the monotonous blowing of -the fog-horn. - -He was making for the Deemster's private entrance and had no light to -guide him except the borrowed gleam from the door to the Deemster's -rooms, which the jailer in his haste had left open. As he passed -this door he heard the sound of the rapid opening and closing of -drawers. The weight of the woman in his arms was becoming unbearable. - -At one moment he saw the shadowy outlines of a white thing which the -carpenters had erected against the walls. He shuddered and went on. - -The damp air was chill and Bessie began to revive under it. At first -she breathed heavily, and then she made those low, inarticulate moans -of returning consciousness which are the most unearthly sounds that -come from human lips. - -"Mr. Von--.... Mr. Von--...." - -Both arms being engaged, Stowell had to crush the girl's mouth -against his breast to stop her cries. They ceased and she swooned -again. - -His burden was becoming monstrous. With a savage strength of will -and muscle he struggled along. At length he reached the Deemster's -door. It was fastened as he knew, not only by the lock of which the -key was in his waistcoat pocket, but also by three long bolts. With -the unconscious girl in his arms it was as much as he could do to -open it. At last he did so. A pale face was outside. It was Gell's. - -"Take her--she has fainted." Not another word was spoken. - -Gell, breathing rapidly, took Bessie into his arms, and carried her -across the quay. Stowell watched him until he reached the gangway, -and then the sea mist hid him. He heard Gell walking on the deck and -then going, with heavy footsteps, down the cabin companion. - -He closed the Deemster's door, locked and bolted it, and then turned -back to the prison. Again he kept to the grass and was conscious of -an effort to make his footsteps light. - -On reaching the drawbridge he looked back and listened. The opening -and closing of drawers was still audible. The funnel of the steamer -was still belching invisible smoke, and red sparks from the fires -below were shooting through it. The tide was still washing in the -harbour, the sea was still booming in the bay, and the fog-horn was -still blowing on Langness. Save for these sights and sounds, -everything was dark and silent within the great blind walls. - -Then the clock in the tower struck eleven. Every stroke fell on the -clammy air like a blow from a padded hammer. - - - -IV - -Five minutes passed. - -Stowell had returned to the cell, stretched out the brown prison -blankets so as to give the appearance, in the dim light, of a body on -the bed, and was now sitting in the armchair before the fire in the -guard-room. His work was not yet done, and he was listening to the -sounds outside. Until the steamer sailed he must remain in the -Castle to keep watch on the jailer. He was more sure than ever that -he was doing God's work, but he was still behaving like a criminal. - -Footsteps approached. The jailer entered, mopping his forehead. - -"I can't find it, your Honour, and I've searched everywhere." - -"Never mind, Mr. Vondy. Your prisoner recovered from her attack and -is now sleeping peacefully." - -"Sleeping, is she? I'll take a look at her." - -"Don't! I mean don't go into the cell and disturb her." - -"I won't, Sir," said the jailer, from half-way down the corridor. - -Stowell listened intently. Presently the jailer returned. - -"Aw, yes, she's fast enough! Wonderful the way they sleep on the -last night. Something you told her, perhaps. Has the telegram come, -your Honour?" - -"No, and it won't come now. Eleven o'clock, they said. If it didn't -come then I was not to expect it." - -"Poor bogh! It will be a shocking thing when Duggie Taggart comes in -the morning. I wouldn't trust but it will be a dead woman itself -we'll be taking out of the cell, Sir." - -"I wouldn't trust," said Stowell. - -Insensibly he had dropped into the Anglo-Manx. He was trying to find -some excuse for remaining. - -"It'll be a middlin' cold drive home, old friend--couldn't you make -me a cup of coffee?" - -"With pleasure, Sir," said the jailer. And while the old man stirred -the peats and hung the kettle on the slowrie, Stowell, listening at -the same time to the voices without (the husky brogue of the Irish -Captain and the guttural croaking of the half-tipsy harbour-master) -got him to tell the story of his appointment. - -"It was thirty years ago, when I was coachman at Ballamoar in the -'Stranger's' days--a wonderful kind woman your mother was, Sir." - -"Hurry up, boys. Bear a hand with that crank"--the swing-bridge was -being opened; the steamer was to go out in spite of the fog. - -"I used to be taking her for drives in the morning, and it was always -'Thank you, Mr. Vondy! A beautiful drive, Mr. Vondy!' Aw, gentry, -Sir, gentry born!" - -"Damn your eyes, let go that forrard rope"--the Captain was on the -bridge. - -"We had a young Irish mare in them days, Sir, and coming home one -morning in harvest, not more than a month before your Honour was -born, Illiam Christian (he was always a toot was Illiam) started his -new reaper in the road field just as we were passing the Nappin, and -the mare bolted." - -"Why the divil don't you take in the slack of that starn rope? Do -you want me to come down and dump you overboard?"--the funnels had -ceased to roar and the paddles were plashing. - -"I was a middling strong young fellow then, Mr. Stowell, Sir, and if -the mare pulled I pulled too, until one of the reins broke at me and -I was flung off the box." - -"Aisy does it! Take in that breast rope, bys"--the steamer was -passing through the gate. - -"I wasn't for letting go for all. Not me! Just holding on like mad, -though it was tossing and tumbling on the road I was like a mollag in -a dirty sea." - -"Half-steam below there"--the steamer was opening the bay. - -"I bet her at last, Sir, and up she came at the Ballamoar gates -blowing like a smithy bellows and sweating tremenjous, but quiet as a -lamb." - -"Heave oh and away!" - -"I was ragged and torn like a scarecrow, and herself was as white as -a sea-gull, but never a scratch, thank God!" - -"Bravo!" - -"The Dempster had heard the yelling on the road and down the drive he -came in his dressing-gown and slippers, trembling like a ghost. And -when he saw it was all right with herself, 'Mr. Vondy,' says he, with -the water in his eyes, 'I'll never forget it, Mr. Vondy,' he says." - -"And he didn't?" - -"'Deed no! Aw, a grand man, the ould Dempster, Sir. Middlin' stiff -in the upper lip, but a man of his word for all. And when Capt'n -Crow pegged out and this place was vacant he put me in for it." - -Straining his powers of listening Stowell was still waiting for the -whistle that was to tell him the steamer was clear away. - -"Crow? That was Nelson's Crow, wasn't it?" - -"Nelson's Crow it was, Sir. One-eyed Crow we were calling him. He -was boatswain on the _Victory_, and when the big man went down he was -in the cockpit holding him in his arms. 'Will I die, Mr. Crow?' said -Nelson. 'We had better wait for the opinion of the ship's doctor, -Sir,' said Crow." - -There was a long shrill whistle from a distance. Stowell leapt to -his feet and laughed--the steamer had gone. - -"Ah, a rael Manxman, wasn't he? Wouldn't commit himself, you see." - -Then he slapped the jailer on the shoulder and said, - -"So you've been here thirty years, old friend?" - -"About that, Sir," said the jailer. - -"But do you know you wouldn't be here thirty hours longer if I were -to tell the Governor what you've done to-night?" - -"Why, what's that, your Honour?" - -"Left a condemned prisoner without guard, or even without remembering -to lock her up and carry away the keys"--and he threw the keys of the -cell on the table. - -"God bless me, yes! I never thought of that. But it was yourself -that sent me out, and your Honour will not tell." - -"Not I, old friend. But listen! Nobody in the island knows that -I've been trying to get your prisoner's pardon, and now that it -hasn't come, it's better that nobody should know. So you'll say -nothing to anybody about my being here to-night?" - -"Not a word, Sir. But you've done your best for the poor bogh, and -it's Himself will reward you." - -It was not until Stowell was outside the Castle that he reflected -that whatever else happened in the morning the jailer must certainly -fall into disgrace. - -"I must find a way to make it up to him," he thought. - - - -V - -The quay was deserted and the berth of the tramp steamer in the -harbour was an empty space, but in the fever of his impatience -Stowell walked to the end of the pier to make sure that the ship had -gone. - -The fog had lifted a little by this time, the fog-horn was no longer -blowing, and against the dark sea he could just make out the darker -hull of the steamer leaving the bay. Farther away he saw the -revolving light from Langness, which was shooting red vapour into the -sky like breath from fiery nostrils. The night air was still cold, -but his forehead was perspiring. - -Bessie would be recovering consciousness by this time. "Where am I?" -she would be saying. And then she would hear the throb of the -engines and the wash of the water, and see Alick by her side. - -For a moment he lost sight of the ship's stern light (a mist was -sweeping over the surface of the sea) and his anxiety became agony, -but it reappeared at the other side of the light-house and his -spirits rose again. Yes, she was steering north. - -"Sail on! Sail on! Sail on!" - -He returned to the town. In the thinning fog everything looked -immensely large and frightening. He walked slowly in order not to -attract attention. Passing through the narrow streets he found -nearly all the houses dark. Only two or three of the upper windows -showed light, and from one of them, partly open, he heard the cry of -a sick child. - -But in a winding lane, close under the Castle, he came upon a cottage -that was lit up in the lower storey, and loud with many voices. He -recognised it as the house at which he had left Mrs. Collister, and -understood what was happening. The old woman's Primitive friends -were holding a prayer-meeting by her bedside in the kitchen to -comfort her. A man was praying and many women were shouting -responses. - -"Save the sinner, O Lord!" (_Hallelujah!_) "She may be inside prison -walls to-night, but show her the Golden Gates are always open." -(_Hallelujah!_) "Remember Thy servant, her mother!" (_Aw yes, -remember her!_) "Her soul is passing through deep waters." (_'Deed it -is, Lord!_) "Stretch out Thy hand as Thou didst to Peter of old and -suffer her not to sink." - -Outside the town Stowell had an impulse to run. He found his -motor-car where he had left it and pushed it into the road. While -lighting his lamp he thought he heard sounds from the direction of -the Castle. Had the escape become known? He listened for anything -that might denote alarm. There was nothing. - -The Castle clock struck twelve. The fog had nearly gone now, and -looking back he saw the gloomy and forbidding fortress towering over -the sleeping town. A few stars had appeared above it. - -All was quiet. The condemned woman had escaped from Castle Rushen. -There was nothing to show that he himself had been there. - -With a last look back he started his engine and released his levers, -and his car shot away. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - -THE GRAVE OF A SIN - -Nearly three hours later Stowell was at the Point of Ayre, where the -head of the island looks into the sea. Leaving his car at the end of -the last paved road he walked over the bent-strewn plain to where the -tall, white, brown-belted light-house stands up against sea and sky. -The light-houseman, who had just put out the light, seeing the -Deemster approach, went down to meet him. - -"May I go up to your lantern, Light-houseman? I've always wanted to -see the sun rise from there." - -"With pleasure, your Honour," said the Light-houseman, and he led the -way up the circular stone stairway, through the eye of the -light-house, with its glistening columns of bevelled glass, to the -iron-railed gallery that ran like a scalf round its neck. - -For a long half-hour Stowell walked to and fro there. He felt as if -he were on the prow of some mighty ship, with the sea racing in white -foam along the rocks on either side. Far below were the booming -waves; the sea-fowl were calling in the midway air; the sky to the -east was reddening; the day was striding over the waters and driving -the trailing garments of the night before it, and the sea was singing -the great song of the dawn. - -At last, straining his sight to the south, he saw what he had come to -see--a steamer with a red and black funnel. Kept back during the -dark hours by the fog on the coast, she was now coming on at -full-speed. - -There was a pang in thinking that this was the last he was to see of -the two who were aboard of her, but there was a boundless joy in it -also. They were united; they were happy; they were safe; he had -wiped out his offence against them. - -He watched the vessel as she passed. She lurched a little as she -went through the cross-current of the Point. But now she was out in -the Channel; now she was heading towards the Mull of Galloway; now -she was fading into the northern mist and seemed to be dropping off -into another planet. - -At half-past three Stowell was back in his car. He could go home now -with a cleaner heart, a surer conscience. It was a beautiful -morning. The sun had risen. It was slanting over his shoulder as he -drove along the grass-grown road on the north-west coast, with the -sea singing and dancing by his side over a stretch of yellow sand. -The lambs were bleating in the fields and the larks were loud in the -sky. - -What relief! What joy! His car was bounding on--past the Lhen, the -Nappin, the old Jurby church with its four-square tower on the edge -of the cliff--going faster than he knew, faster and still faster, -like a winged creature, parting the way as it went, making the road -itself to fly open, and the hedges, the trees, and the sleeping -farm-houses to slant off on either side, and coming round at last, as -with the heart of a bride, to the big gates of Ballamoar. - -Home once more! - -As he slackened speed and slid up the drive the rooks were calling in -the tall elms and the song-birds in the bushes were singing. As -silently as possible he ran his car into the garage and crept into -the house. - -The blinds were down and the rooms were dull with a yellow light, -like sunshine behind closed eyelids. The grandfather's clock on the -landing was striking four. Only four hours since he had left -Castletown! - -The servants were not yet stirring, and he stepped upstairs on -tiptoe, hoping to reach his room unheard, but as he passed Janet's -door she called to him. - -"Is that you, Victor?" - -He answered, "Yes." - -"How late you are, dear!" - -"Don't waken me in the morning." - -In his bedroom he was partly conscious that familiar things looked -strange--or was it that another man had come back to them? He -undressed rapidly and got into bed, drawing a deep breath. It was -all over. Bessie Collister was gone. It was nearly impossible that -she could ever be traced and brought back. A monstrous judicial -crime had been prevented. _He_ had been permitted to prevent it. -And now for the long, long rest of a dreamless sleep. - -But in the vague, intermediate half-world of consciousness before -sleep comes, he was aware of another, a warmer and more secret -motive. Fenella! "Tell him to come back to me!" Ah, no, not until -he had wiped out his fault. But now he could go to her! He had -broken down the barrier between them. He had buried his sin in the -sea. - -Thank God! Thank God! - -And then sleep, deep sleep, and the breathless day coming on. - - - -END OF FIFTH BOOK - - - - -_SIXTH BOOK_ - -THE REDEMPTION - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - -THE BIRTH OF A LIE - -Awakening in the "George" in the early hours of morning, Fenella -heard a noise outside her window that was like the running of a -shallow river over a bed of small stones. She knew what it was. It -was the sound of the feet of the people who were coming in crowds to -stand outside the Castle walls and watch the slow-moving fingers of -the clock, until the hoisting of the black flag over the tower should -tell them that the invisible presence of Death had come and gone. - -When, as the clock was striking six, she crossed the market-place on -her way to the Castle, she found this crowd in great commotion, -hurrying to and fro and calling to each other in agitated voices. - -"Is it true?" - -"So they're saying." - -"God bless my soul!" - -The Castle gate was open and people had penetrated as far as the -Portcullis. An Inspector of Police, coming out hurriedly, commanded -them to go back. - -"Away with you! Is it play-acting you've come to look at? Smoking -your pipes, too!" - -But without waiting to see his orders obeyed he hastened away -himself, shouting to somebody that he was going to knock up the -telegraph office. - -The court-yard, when Fenella reached it, though less crowded was as -full of agitation. A blear-eyed man, who looked as if he had just -awakened from a fit of intoxication, was walking aimlessly to and -fro. It was Shimmin, the turnkey, but when Fenella asked him what -had happened, he stared vacantly and made no answer. A very tall -man, wearing a cloth cap over his head and ears and carrying a -carpet-bag, was standing by the scaffold. This must be "long Duggie -Taggart" and when Fenella, shuddering at sight of the man, asked him -the same question, he shrugged his shoulders and turned away. At the -foot of the draw-bridge the High Bailiff and the jailer were in -fierce altercation. - -"I know nothing about it, I tell thee, Sir." - -"Then you are a blockhead and a fool!" - -At length two elderly men, the Chaplain and the Doctor, came down the -Deemster's stairs, and then the truth, which Fenella had partly -surmised, became fully known to her. The condemned woman had escaped -during the night. There would be no execution that day. - -Through a tumult of mixed feelings, Fenella was conscious of a sense -of immense relief. Her first thought was of Bessie's mother, and she -turned back to take the news to her. - -The little house in Quay Lane had its door still closed, but through -the kitchen window, whereof the upper sash was partly down, came the -singing of a hymn in tired and husky voices, - - "_Jesus, lover of my soul, - Let me to Thy bosom fly._" - - -It was not immediately that Fenella could get an answer to her -knocking, but at length the man of the house, in his ganzie and long -sea boots, opened the door, still singing. - -The little low-ceiled kitchen was full of people, and the close air -of the place seemed to say that they had kept up their prayer-meeting -the night through. - -On a chair bedstead against the opposite wall, Mrs. Collister in her -cotton nightcap, from which long thin locks of her grey hair were -escaping, was rocking her body to the tune, while fumbling with bony -fingers a Methodist hymn-book which lay open before her on the -patchwork counterpane. - -Fenella, with a warm heart for the old mother in her trouble, pushed -through to the foot of the bed, but Mrs. Collister was terrified at -the sight of her, thinking she was bringing bad tidings, - -"Have they deceived me?" she cried. "Seven o'clock they said. Is it -all over?" - -"Be calm," said Fenella, and then she delivered her message. Bessie -had gone from Castle Rushen. She was not to die that day. - -A moment of vacant silence fell upon the room, such as seems to fall -on the world when the tide is at the bottom of the ebb. With -difficulty the old woman grasped what Fenella had said. Her watery -eyes looked round at her people as if asking them to help her to -understand. At length one of these cried, - -"Glory to God! It's the answer to our prayers." - -And then the truth seemed to descend on the poor broken brain like a -healing breath from heaven. Stretching out her match-like arms, she -seized Fenella's hands and said, - -"I know who thou art. Thou art the Governor's daughter. Is it the -truth thou'rt telling me?" - -"Indeed it is." - -"My Bessie is out of prison?" - -"Yes, and nobody knows what has become of her." - -A wild cry of joy burst from the old woman's throat. - -"Liza! Liza Killey, wilt thou believe me now? Didn't I tell thee it -was the old Dempster himself that the Lord had sent to take my child -out of prison?" - -A wave of new life seemed to come to her, and throwing back the -clothes she struggled out of bed (her blue-veined legs and feet -showing bare under her cotton nightdress) and went down on her knees -to pray. But her prayer was drowned by the husky voices of her -companions, who had by this time raised a hymn of thanksgiving. - -Fenella turned to go, and the man and woman of the house followed her -to the door. - -"What was that she said about the Deemster?" - -They told her what had happened the night before--how the old woman -had escaped into the streets and the Deemster had brought her back to -the house. - -"Are you sure it was the Deemster?" - -"We thought so then, but she thrept us out it was his father who is -dead and buried, and now we don't know in the world if it was or -wasn't." - -The singers were singing in triumphant tones-- - - "_God moves in a mysterious way, - His wonders to perform._" - - -Fenella, who had begun to tremble, turned back to the hotel. The -market-place was full of people, who were pouring into it from every -thoroughfare. On reaching her room she locked the door, pulled down -the window-blind, sat on the bed, covered her eyes, and tried to -think out what had happened. - -The noise outside was like the surge of the sea, and like the surge -of the sea was the tumult in her heart and brain. - -Could it be possible that Victor Stowell had helped Bessie Collister -to escape? She remembered what he had said to her father--that if -any attempt were made to carry out the sentence he would prevent it. -She remembered what she had said to him--that never could there be -anything between them while that girl lay in prison. He had been in -Castletown the night before, and he was the only man in the island -who could have access to the Castle without an order from the -Governor or the Chief Constable. - -But a Judge to break prison! What would be the end of it? Why had -he done this incredible thing, risking everything? Was it solely -because he could not allow that unhappy girl, who had suffered so -much for him already, to go to the gallows? Or was it, perhaps, -because she herself had said.... - -Suddenly a great quickening of her love for Stowell came over her. -If she had stumbled upon his secret she would protect it. - -"But what can I do?" she asked herself. - -At one moment it occurred to her to run back to Quay Lane and warn -the good people there to say nothing more about the Deemster. But -no, that might awaken suspicion. They thought Bessie's escape was -due to supernatural agencies, that it had come as an answer to their -prayers--let them continue to think so. - -At seven o'clock she was in the train for Douglas and the telegraph -poles were flying by. She must know what the Governor was doing. -But whatever her father might do her own course was clear. - -She must stand by Victor now, whatever happened. - - - -II - -In the cool sunshine of the early May morning Government House lay -asleep. The gardener was mowing a distant part of the lawn when he -saw a carriage drive rapidly up to the porch. Two gentlemen got out -of it, and in less time than it took him to empty his grass-pan into -his wheelbarrow they rang three times at the door. - -Inside the house nobody was yet stirring except old John, the -watchman, who was drawing the curtains and opening the windows. He -heard the bell and thought the postman had brought a registered -letter. In his cloth shoes he was shuffling to the vestibule when -the bell rang again and yet again. - -"_Traa de looiar_" ("Time enough"), he growled, but his voice fell to -a more deferential tone when he opened the door, and saw who was -there. - -"Our apologies to His Excellency, and say the Attorney-General and -the Chief Constable wish to see him immediately on urgent business." - -The two men stepped into the smoking-room, which was still dark with -the blinds down and rank with last night's tobacco smoke. - -A few minutes later, the Governor entered in his dressing-gown over -his pyjamas and with his bare feet in his heelless slippers. And -then the Attorney told him--the young woman who was to have been -executed that morning had escaped. - -"Good God, no!" - -"Only too true, Sir. Colonel Farrell has had an urgent telegram from -his Inspector at Castletown." - -"When did it happen?" - -"During the night. The jailer says he locked her up at eleven and -when he opened the cell at five the prisoner was gone." - -"Where is the jailer?" - -"At the Castle still," said the Chief Constable, "but I've told the -police to send him up immediately." - -The Governor rose from the seat into which he had dropped and walked -to and fro. - -"Such a blow to the authority of the law--the escape of a prisoner on -the eve of her execution!" said the Attorney. - -"Such a handle to the disorderly elements, too!" said the Chief -Constable. - -"Good Lord, don't I know? Let me think! Let me think!" - -The Governor drew up one of the window blinds and his eyes fell on a -steamer lying by the pier with smoke rising lazily from her black and -red funnels. - -"If the woman escaped only a few hours ago," he said, "she cannot -have left the island yet. Have you given orders that the passengers -by the morning steamer shall be watched?" - -"Not yet, sir." - -"Do so at once. If that fails, telegraph to your police in every -town and parish. Good gracious, in this pocket-handkerchief of an -island it ought to be possible to re-capture an escaped prisoner in a -day, even if she lies like a toad under a stone." - -"We'll leave no stone unturned, sir." - -"A woman! A mere girl! Unless the jailer or his people deliberately -opened the doors for her she must have had assistance." - -"That's what _I_ say, your Excellency." - -"Have you any idea who helped her?" - -"No .... that is to say...." - -"Where's young Gell, the Advocate?" - -"In his rooms in Athol-street .... I presume." - -"Find out for certain. Come back at four this afternoon and bring -that blockhead of a jailer with you. And listen" (the men were -leaving the room), "try to keep this ridiculous thing quiet. If it -gets into the papers across the water all England will be laughing at -us." - -The Governor was again at the window, watching the Attorney-General's -carriage going rapidly down the drive, when he saw a hackney car, -containing Fenella, coming up to the house. - -That sight started a new order of ideas. He remembered Stowell's -threat--"If you order that girl's execution, it shall never be -carried out, because I shall prevent it." For three days he had -understood this to mean that the Deemster would appeal over his head -to the Imperial authorities. But Stowell had not done so--he wasn't -such a fool, he had remembered the bedevilments of his own position. -So the Governor had dismissed the thought, and his anger at the son -of his old friend had subsided. But now the threat came back on him -with a new interpretation. Could it be possible? Such an unheard-of -thing? - -As soon as Fenella entered the house he called her into his room and -shut the door behind her. - -"You have just come from Castletown?" - -"Yes, father." - -"Then you know what has happened?" - -"Yes." - -"Can you throw any light on it?" - -"Light on it?" - -"I mean .... have you seen anything of Stowell since we spoke of him -last?" - -"Nothing." - -"Nor heard from him?" - -"No." - -"Do you think it likely that .... But it is impossible. No -responsible person in his sense could do such a thing. It must be -the other one." - -"What other, father?" - -"Young Gell, of course. He is the only man in the island who could -wish that girl to escape--the only one who would be fool enough to -help her to do so." - -Fenella went to her room with a heart at ease. She was sorry for -Gell, very sorry, but in the consuming selfishness of her love for -Stowell she found a secret joy in the thought that suspicion was -being diverted from the real culprit. - -Victor was safe thus far. But what would he do himself? What was he -now doing? - - - -III - -It was near to noon when Stowell awoke at Ballamoar. His bedroom -(formerly his father's) faced to the south and flashes of sunshine -from the chinks of the window curtains were crossing the bed on which -he lay with his head on his arm. - -It was a startling moment. - -His long sleep had washed his brain as in a spiritual bath, and with -the awakening of his body his conscience had awakened also. The -events of the previous night rolled back on him like a flood, and -now, for the first time, he saw what he had done. - -To prevent the law from committing a crime he had committed a crime -against the law! He, the Judge, sworn to uphold Justice, had -deliberately betrayed it! Had anything so monstrous ever been heard -of before? - -After a while, through the deafening buzzing of his brain, he became -aware of the droning sound of voices in the room below, and then of -their sharp clack as the speakers (they were Janet and Joshua Scarff) -stepped out of the house to the gravel path in front of it. - -"No, don't waken his Honour, Miss Curphey. He hasn't been well -lately, and sleep does no harm to anyone. Besides he'll hear the bad -news soon enough." - -"'Deed he will, Mr. Scarff." - -"It will be a terrible shock to him--especially if my suspicions -about a certain person prove to be justified. But that's the way, -you see--one act of wrong-doing leads to another. Pity! Great pity!" - -It was out! Stowell felt as if the bed under him were rocking from -the first tremor of an earthquake. - -Half-an-hour later he was at breakfast downstairs. For a long time, -Janet was trying to break the news to him. At last it came. The -young woman who was to have been executed that morning had escaped. -Joshua Scarff had had it from the Inspector at Ramsey--it was being -telegraphed all over the island. - -For the sake of appearances Stowell made an exclamation of surprise, -despising himself for doing so and feeling as if the toast in his -mouth were choking him. - -"It's impossible not to be glad," said Janet, "that the poor guilty -creature has escaped the gallows, but Joshua thinks things are not -likely to end there." - -"And what does he say?...." - -"He says she must have had an accomplice, and when the man is found -out it will be the worse for both of them." - -"And who .... who does Joshua think...." - -"Alick Gell. It seems he put appearances against himself at the -trial, poor boy!" - -Instead of going to town that day, as he had intended to do, Stowell -rambled through the trackless Curraghs. He was trying to be alone -with the melancholy swish of the sally bushes and the mournful cry of -the curlews. But his anxiety to know what was being done brought him -back to the house. Hearing nothing there, he walked to the village -for a copy of the insular newspaper. He found some excuse for -speaking to everybody he met on the road--on other subjects, though, -always on other subjects. - -At the door of the little general store, with its mixed odour of many -condiments coming out to him, he stopped and called, - -"How's the rheumatism this morning, Auntie Kitty?" - -"Aw, better, your Honour, a taste better to-day. But it's moral -sorry I am to hear the bad newses you've had yourself, Sir. It's -feeling it terrible you'll be, your Honour--you and the young man -being the same as brothers. It will kill his mother--and her such a -proud stomach. The woman couldn't see the sun for the boy, and she's -been fighting the father all his life for him." - -On his way back he met Cain, the constable, looking large and -important. - -"I'm sarching for them two runaways," he said, with his short -asthmatical breathing, "and the Chief Constable is telling me I'll -have to be finding them if they're lying like a toad under a stone." - -Gell again! The report of the escape had passed over the island with -the swift flight of a bird of prey--everywhere he could hear the -flapping of its wings. And to the question of who could have -assisted the young woman to escape from a place like Castle Rushen -there was only one answer--Gell. - -Towards nightfall Joshua Scarff called at Ballamoar on his way home -from town. Things had turned out as he had expected--suspicion had -fastened on Mr. Gell, and the Governor had ordered the police to -scour the island for him. - -"But everybody is sorry for your Honour. His friend! His bosom -friend! Pity! Great pity!" - -Gell! Always Gell! Again Stowell felt as if the earth were rocking -beneath him. Where had his head been that he had not thought of this -before--that in helping Alick Gell to go away with Bessie Collister -he had put him into the position of the guilty man--guilty not only -of the prison-breaking, but also of the earlier and uglier offence of -being the girl's fellow-sinner? - -He had thought he had buried his sin in the sea--had he only cast the -burden of it upon Gell? - -He recalled Alick's gratitude on going away, the undeserved praises -which had cut to the heart, and then thought of Gell (far away in a -foreign country) coming to hear of the evil name he had left behind. - -What was Alick to think of him then? That what he had done had not -been at the call of friendship, but of mere self-protection--to -divert suspicion from himself, to remove the only witnesses against -him, and thus to build his future life on the unprotected name of an -innocent man? - -"Must I let that lie run on without saying a word against it?" - -And then Fenella! He had seen himself going to her and saying, "Now -that the girl is no longer in prison the barrier between us is broken -down." He had seen himself marrying her, and then rising higher and -higher in the esteem of his people, with that brave woman by his side. - -But now--what now? - -Fenella would find him out! It was impossible that she could live -long with a man who carried such a corroding secret without -discovering it sooner or later. And when she had done so what would -she think of him? A traitor to his friend and to the law! A Judge -who had broken his oath! A wrong-doer, not a righter of the wronged, -sitting in judgment upon others, yet himself a criminal! A man of -honour to the outer world, a hypocrite in his own house; a pillar of -the island in the eyes of his people, a liar in the eyes of his wife! - -"No, God forbid it! I cannot let that lie run on. I cannot allow -myself to be pilloried in life-long hypocrisy." - -All the same he would wait to see what the Governor might do next. -It was no good acting hastily. - - - - -CHAPTER FORTY - -THE CALL OF A WOMAN'S SOUL - -At four o'clock that day the Attorney-General and the Chief Constable -had returned to Government House and were sitting, on either side of -the Governor, with the jailer standing before them. Fenella stood by -the window, apparently gazing into the garden but listening intently. - -"Come now," said the Governor, "tell us what you know of this matter." - -The jailer knew nothing. Changing repeatedly the leg on which he was -standing and mopping his forehead with a coloured handkerchief, he -protested absolute ignorance. - -"After Miss Stanley left the Castle a piece after ten o'clock I -locked the poor bogh in her cell...." - -"Do you mean the prisoner?" - -"Who else, your Excellency?" - -"Then say the prisoner." - -"Well, I locked the prisoner in her cell a piece after ten o'clock -last night and when I went back at five this morning to take her a -bite of breakfast...." - -"Breakfast? Where was your female warder?" - -"Mistress Mylrea? Sick of the heart since General Gaol. They're -telling me she died last night, Sir." - -"Where was your turnkey then?" - -"Willie Shimmin? He went out on lave for a couple of hours on Sunday -afternoon and didn't return on the night, Sir." - -"Do you mean to tell me you were alone in the Castle on the night -before an execution?" - -"Aw, yes, alone enough, Sir." - -"Colonel Farrell!" said the Governor, turning sharply upon the Chief -Constable. - -That gentleman, although embarrassed, had many excuses. He had not -been made aware of the situation, and if this blockhead had only -communicated with the police-station.... - -"Well, well, enough of that now. Let us have the facts," said the -Governor, and turning back to the jailer he said, - -"Did anybody come to the Castle last night after Miss Stanley left -it?" - -"No, Sir, no!" - -"And your keys? Did they ever leave your possession?" - -"Never, Sir." - -"After you locked the prisoner in her cell, what did you do?" - -"I went back to the guard-room and sat by the fire, Sir." - -"And fell asleep, I suppose?" - -"I'll give in I slept a wink or two, Sir." - -"Where were your keys while you were asleep?" - -"On the table beside me, Sir." - -"And when you awoke where were they?" - -"In the same place, your Excellency." - -"Were the gates of the Castle locked last night?" - -"Aw, 'deed they were, Sir." - -"And were they locked this morning?" - -"They were that, Sir." - -The Attorney-General, who had been leaning forward, dropped back. - -"Extraordinary!" he said. "The whole thing has the appearance of the -supernatural." - -"Nonsense!" said the Governor. "Vondy, do you know Mr. Gell, the -Advocate?" - -"I'm sorry to say, Sir...." - -"Never mind about sorry--do you?" - -"I do, Sir." - -"When did you see him last?" - -"At General Gaol, when he was out of himself, poor man, and we had to -lock him up for threatening the Dempster." - -"Did he never come to the Castle afterwards to see the prisoner?" - -"Never, Sir." - -"Will you swear that he was not there last night?" - -"I will--before God Almighty, Sir." - -"Then, if the cell was locked all night and the Castle gates were -locked, how do you account for the escape of your prisoner?" - -The jailer smoothed the hair over his forehead and then said, - -"Bolts and bars are nothing to the Lord, Sir." - -The Governor gasped. - -"Do you mean to say that while you were asleep before the fire in the -guard-room an angel from heaven carried your prisoner through the -Castle walls?" - -"Aw, well .... I wouldn't say no to that, Sir. We're reading of the -like in the Good Book anyway." - -"Fenella," cried the Governor, "take this fool away and turn him out -of the house." - -When Fenella, who had been quivering all over, had left the room, -followed by the jailer, the Governor turned to the Chief Constable. - -"The woman was not on the morning steamer?" - -"No, Sir." - -"And What about Gell?" - -"We broke open the door of his room in Athol Street and found he had -gone." - -"Ah! Have you come upon any trace of him elsewhere?" - -"Yes; he slept at the Railway Inn at Ballaugh on Saturday night and -took a ticket for St. John's by the first train on Sunday morning." - -"Anything else?" - -"The blacksmith at Ballasalla believes he saw him on Sunday evening -going in the fog in the direction of Derby Haven." - -"Aha! Did any fishing boat leave Castletown last night?" - -"The Manx boats do not go out on Sunday, Sir." - -"Any trading steamers then?" - -"I don't know, Sir." - -"Inquire at once. If your constables do not find the fugitives in -the island we must send a 'Wanted' across the water." - -"I'll draw one up, Sir." - -"Got the necessary photographs?" - -"One of the girl, which was found in the young man's rooms, Sir. -Also one of the young man which we found in the girl's cell, but it -is not of much use, being scratched and blurred as if it had been -lying in water." - -"No matter! The Deemster is sure to have another. I'll write and -ask him to meet us here at eleven on Wednesday morning. He'll be -able to help you to your personal description and issue the warrant -at the same time." - - - -II - -Meantime, Fenella had taken the jailer into the drawing-room and -closed the door behind them. - -"Mr. Vondy," she said in a low voice, "you can trust me. Nothing you -may say in this room will ever be repeated. Did not somebody come to -Castle Rushen last night after I left it?" - -The old man tried in vain to look into the big moist eyes that were -on him, but at length he dropped his own and said, - -"It is no use, miss. There will be no rest on me in the night unless -I tell the truth to somebody. There can be no harm telling it to you -neither--going to be the man's wife soon they're saying. It's truth -enough, miss--somebody did come." - -"Was it the Deemster?" - -"It was that," said the jailer, and then he told her everything that -had happened. - -Fenella's head became giddy and her cheeks blushed crimson. In a -flash she saw what had happened. Victor had deceived the jailer. -Did the old man know it? Lowering her eyes she said, - -"You didn't say this when the Governor questioned you--had you a -reason for not doing so?" - -"I had. The Deemster made me promise to say nothing." - -And then came the other and still more degrading story--the story of -the intimidation Stowell had put upon the jailer to keep his visit -secret. - -Fenella felt as if she would sink through the floor in shame, but all -the same she found herself saying, - -"You've known the Deemster all his life, haven't you?" - -"I have. I was reared on the land," said the jailer, and then, -raising himself to his full height, "I'm a Ballamoar myself, miss." - -"Then you will keep the promise you gave him?" - -"Trust me for that, miss." - -"But if anything should happen to yourself as the consequence of last -night's escape...." - -"The father put me in the Castle and the son won't see them fling me -out of it." - -"But if he should be overruled by the Governor and unable to help -you...." - -"I'll take my chance with him. What's it they're saying?--_the -Ballamoar will out_, miss." - -Tears sprang to Fenella's eyes, but her heart beat high. - -"Mr. Vondy," she said, "he has not been well lately, and perhaps he -doesn't always know what he is saying. If you should ever come to -think that what he told you was not the truth .... the whole truth, I -mean...." - -"Maybe so. I've been thinking as much myself since five this -morning. But that's all as one to me, miss. Tell him _Tommy Vondy -will keep his word_." - -The jailer was gone, and Fenella was sitting with her hands over her -eyes when she heard voices in the corridor and footsteps going -towards the porch. - -"You're right there, your Excellency" (it was the Attorney-General -who was speaking). "The authority of law in this island has received -a blow, and already the disorderly elements are stirring up strife." - -"Who, for instance?" - -"Qualtrough of the Keys and the man Baldromma." - -"Farrell" (it was the Governor in a stern voice), "quash that -instantly. If there's any rioting send for the soldiers from -Castletown to assist your police." - -"I will, your Excellency." - -"And listen! Get rid of that blockhead of a jailer. Appoint -somebody in his place and give him authority to employ his own -warders. He'll have his prison full enough presently." - -The closing of the outer door rang through the corridor, and at the -next moment the Governor was in the drawing-room. - -"Fenella," he said, "do you happen to know if Stowell has a -photograph of young Gell, the Advocate?" - -Before she had time to reflect, Fenella answered that he had. It was -taken in America, and stood on the mantelpiece in the library at -Ballamoar. - -"But why?" - -"Because I want him to bring it with him when he comes on Wednesday -to issue the warrant." - -"What warrant?" - -"The warrant for the arrest of Gell, for breaking prison and aiding -in the escape of the girl Collister." - -"But, father, they are friends--life-long friends." - -"What of that? Stowell is Deemster, and you heard the oath he took, -didn't you? 'Without fear or friendship, love or gain.' His duty as -a Judge is to administer Justice, and as long as I am here I'll see -he does it." - - - -III - -During the remainder of that day and the whole of the following one -Fenella was a prey to the cruellest perplexity. Would Victor Stowell -issue that warrant for the arrest of the innocent man, being himself -the guilty one? - -How could he refuse? It would be his duty to issue the warrant--what -excuse could he make for not doing so? And then what a temptation to -let things go on as usual! Although he had broken prison, and -therefore his oath as a Judge, how easily he might persuade himself -that it had only been to snatch that poor girl from a wicked Statute! - -Yet if Victor issued that warrant for the arrest of Gell he would be -a lost man for ever after. No matter how high he might rise he would -go down, down, down until his very soul would perish. - -"It cannot be! It must not be! It shall not!" - -She wanted to run to Ballamoar and say, "Don't do it. If you have -done wrong confess and take the consequences." - -Oh, what did she care about their quarrel now? It was no longer -Bessie Collister's life, but Victor Stowell's soul that was in peril. - -But no, she could not ask him to act under compulsion. He must act -of his own free will. In the valley of the shadow of sin the guilty -soul must walk alone. - -"But is there nothing I can do for him?" she asked herself. - -Yes, there was one thing--one thing only. She could pray. For long -hours on the night before Stowell was to come to Government House -Fenella knelt in her bed and prayed for him. - -"O God help him! God help him! Help him to resist this great -temptation." - -At length peace came to her. Somewhere in the dead waste of the -night she seemed to receive an answer to her prayers. - -"He'll do the right, whatever it may cost him," she thought, and as -the day was dawning she fell asleep. - -But when she awoke in the morning she felt as if her heart would -break. If Stowell confessed and took the consequences (as she had -prayed he might do) he would be lost to her for ever. He would have -to give up his Judgeship, be banished from the island, and become an -outcast and a wanderer. - -"Is that to be the end of everything between us? After all this -waiting?" - -Her eyes were full of tears when she looked at herself in the glass, -but they were shining like stars for all that. An immense pity for -Stowell had taken possession of her. An immense faith in him also. -He must be the most unhappy man alive, but he was her man now; and -nothing on earth should part them. - -Going down to breakfast she met Miss Green on the stairs. The old -lady was full of some breathless story of rioting in Douglas the -evening before. How remote it all sounded! She hardly heard what -was being said to her. - -Coming upon the maid in the corridor she said, - -"The Deemster is to call to-day, Catherine. Tell him I wish to see -him before he sees the Governor." - -In the breakfast-room her father was looking over a printer's proof -on a sheet of foolscap paper. It was headed with the Manx -coat-of-arms and the words "ISLE OF MAN CONSTABULARY," and had an -empty space near the top for a block to be made from a photograph. - -"But that is of no consequence now," thought Fenella, "no consequence -whatever." - - - - -CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - -IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW - -"Good heavens, what does it matter? A lie is only dangerous when it -does some harm!" - -Stowell awoke on the second day after the escape putting his -situation to himself so. Where was the harm if Gell was suspected? -He had gone with the woman he loved. He was happy. What would Alick -care about the evil name he had left behind him? - -"Then where's the harm?" he asked himself. - -He would let things go on as usual--of course he would. Only he must -make sure that the fugitives had got clear away. - -Remembering that he had seen placards of the Atlantic sailings in the -railway-station, he walked over to the station from the glen. It was -all right--a big Atlantic liner was timed to leave Queenstown at -twelve that day. It was now half-past twelve. Gell and Bessie would -be out on the open sea by this time--steaming past Kinsale where the -Manx boats fished for mackerel. - -"Where's the harm?" - -But just as he was leaving the station with a sense of security and -even triumph, a train from Douglas drew up at the platform. The -guard shouted something to the station-master; and, looking back, -Stowell saw a crowd gathering about a first-class carriage. - -Somebody was being assisted to alight. It was the Speaker. He was -utterly helpless. Between two members of the House of Keys the -stricken man was half led, half carried to a dog-cart that was -waiting for him at the gate. - -His mouth was agape, his legs were dragging behind him, and his large -hands were shaken by senile trembling. He did not speak, but as he -went by he looked up, and Stowell felt that from his red eyes a mute -malediction was being thrown at him. - -When the dog-cart had gone, with the Speaker stretched out in it, -stiff as a dead horse, and one of the Keys to see him home, the other -joined Stowell and walked down the road by his side. - -"Then your Honour hasn't heard what has happened?" - -"No. What?" - -There had been a sitting of the Keys that morning. The debate had -been on some new scheme of land tenure--a thinly disguised form of -confiscation. The Speaker had opposed it passionately, saying a man -had a right to keep what he had earned and hand it on to his -children. Then Qualtrough (a firebrand who possessed nothing) had -taunted him with the unfortunate affair of yesterday. Why did _he_ -want to hand on his land, his son having run away with the woman he -had corrupted? - -A terrible scene had followed. The Speaker had had one of his -brain-storms. His neck had swelled until it was nearly as broad as -his face. "Sit down, Sir," he had shouted, but Qualtrough had -refused to do so. At length, overcome by the clamour of his enemies -and the silence of his friends, the Speaker had risen to resign. -Since he could not maintain the authority of the chair he had no -choice but to get out of it. - -It had been a pitiful spectacle. None of them who were fathers had -been able to look at it with dry eyes. The old man was trembling -like a leaf and his legs seemed to be giving way under him. - -"They say the sins of the fathers are visited-upon the children, but -maybe it's as true the other way about. I'm going blind and deaf. -The sands of my life are running out...." - -He swayed forward and they thought he would have fallen on his face, -but the Secretary of the House caught him in his arms, and then two -of them were nominated to bring him home. - -"Sorry to say it to your Honour, being his friend," said the member -of the Keys, as they parted at the turn of the road, "but that young -fellow has something to answer for." - -That lie had done harm then! Was this the mystery of sin--that it -must go on and on, from consequence to consequence, deep as the sea -and unsearchable as the night? - -On returning to Ballamoar, Stowell found Janet in great agitation. -Mrs. Gell had sent across to ask if Robbie could run into Ramsey to -fetch Doctor Clucas. The doctor had come and gone. The Speaker had -had a stroke. It was his second. The third would almost certainly -prove fatal. - -All that day Stowell was shaken by a chill terror. If the Speaker -died would Alick Gell come back to claim his inheritance? If so he -would hear it said on all sides that he had killed his father by the -disgrace he had brought on him. - -What then? Would he tell the whole truth under that terrible -temptation, and thus bring down Stowell himself to ruin and -extinction? - -"But what nonsense I'm talking," thought Stowell. - -Gell could never come back, because Bessie could never do so. Then -who was to know that it was a lie that Gell had killed his father? - -Suddenly came the thought, "_I_ am to know." - -This fell on him like a thunderbolt. How was he to marry Fenella -with a thought like that in his heart? It would be with him night -and day. He might even blurt it out in his sleep. "Assassin! It -was I who killed the old man by letting that lie go on." - -Feeling feverish and unable to remain indoors, he went out to walk on -the gravel path in front of the house. The fresh air revived him and -he took possession of himself again. - -"If the Speaker dies it will be the act of God," he thought. - -He would be in no way responsible. Neither would Gell. If rumour -charged the son with killing the father it would be a lie--a damned -lie, manufactured by Fate, the great liar. - -It was not as if Gell were in any danger--the danger of arrest for -instance. _That_ would be different. But Gell was in no -danger--none whatever. - -"Therefore bury the thing! Bury it and go on as usual," he told -himself. - -The evening was closing in. It was beautiful and limpid. With a -high step Stowell was walking to and fro on the path. Visions were -rising before him of Gell and Bessie Collister on the big liner, -ploughing their way through the darkening ocean to that free -continent "where the clouds sailed higher"--Archibald Alexander and -his sister Elizabeth going out to the new world to begin a new life. - -He had visions of Fenella too--how he would go up to Government House -to-morrow morning. "Tell him to come back to me," she said to Janet, -and now he would go. How happy he was going to be! - -"Surely I've a right to some happiness after all I've gone through." - -He gave himself up to the intoxication of living by anticipation -through those most blissful moments to a man and woman who love each -other--the first moments of reconciliation after a quarrel. - -Night had fallen. It was very dark. The late birds were silent, and -only the soft young leaves of May were rustling in the darkness -overhead with that gentleness that is like the whispering of angels. -All at once a red light jogged up from the gate, making shadows among -the trees that bordered the drive. - -"Good evenin', Dempster! A letter for you, Sir." - -It was Killip the postman. - -"Thank you, Mr. Killip," said Stowell, taking the letter. He could -not see it in the darkness, but at the touch of the large envelope a -heavy foreboding came over him. - -"I suppose you've heard about that affair, your Honour?" - -"What affair?" - -"Tommy Vondy. He's got himself kicked out of the Castle for letting -that girl escape. The gorm! He's my first cousin, and he's in his -seventy-seven, but he was always a toot, was Tommy!" - -"Good-night, Mr. Killip." - -"Good-night, your Honour!" - -When Stowell returned to the porch he looked at his letter by the -light of the lamp on the landing. It was from the Governor. He went -into the Library and tore it open. - - - -II - - - "DEAR STOWELL,--Of course you have heard what has happened. The - escaped prisoner must be recaptured and dealt with according to - law. And not she only, but her accomplice also. You know who - that is--young Gell. The evidence against him is overwhelming. - We have traced him almost to the door of the Castle on Sunday - evening, and find, too, that a trading steamer left Castletown - late the same night. There can hardly be a doubt that the - fugitives sailed in her. We must find where she has gone to and - bring her passengers back. - - "Come here to-morrow morning to issue the necessary warrant and - assist Farrell to the 'distinguishing marks' which may be needful - for Gell's identification. I know there is a certain risk in - re-opening this wretched inquiry. I had hoped to bury it once - for all when I decided on what you thought the extreme step of - sending the guilty woman to the gallows. But law and order must - be upheld, and the sooner we can silence the people, who are - saying we are winking at the corruption of justice to spare the - son of the Speaker and the friend of the Deemster, the better for - everybody. - - "Be here at eleven. We (the Attorney and the Chief Constable are - coming) will be waiting for you. Good Lord, haven't you been - long enough away from this house anyway? If there are strained - relations between you and Fenella let them be faced squarely and - straightened out at once--Yours, etc., - - "JOHN S. STANLEY, "_Brig.-Gen., K.C.B._ - - "P.S.--Fenella says you have a photograph of Gell which was taken - in America some years ago. It is probably the only one on the - island, and therefore invaluable to Farrel at this moment. Bring - it with you--don't forget." - - -Stowell was struck with stupor. Alick Gell _was_ in danger, then, -and the whole situation was different. - -Raising his eyes after reading the Governor's letter he saw Gell's -photograph on the mantelpiece in front of him. At that sight a flame -of passion took possession of him, and snatching up the picture he -flung it in the fire. - -"No, by God!" he said aloud. And if Farrell ever asked him for -"distinguishing marks" towards Gell's identification he would take -him by the throat and choke him. - -But what about the warrant? Any Justice of the peace might issue it, -but if the Governor asked him to do so the request would be equal to -a command. Suppose he did, what would be the result? Bessie would -be brought back and executed. Worse than that, even worse in its -different way, Gell would be arrested and tried--perhaps by him, and -under his warrant! - -"No, no, no! It would be a crime--a base, cowardly, infamous, -abominable crime!" - -The veins of his forehead swelled as he thought of the trial. It -would be more terrible than the other one. To sit in judgment on an -innocent man, being himself the guilty one--not Jeffries, or -Braxfield, or Brandon or Harebottle or any of the bewigged barbarians -whose names befouled the annals of jurisprudence had done anything so -awful. - -"Never," he thought. "Never in this world." - -Yet what alternative had he? After dinner (he had tried to eat to -keep up appearances before Janet) he drew to the fire and tried to -think things out. He had sat long hours in pain, and the fire had -died down, when a kind of melancholy peace came to him and he thought -he saw what he had to do. - -He had to get up early in the morning, reach Government House before -the others had arrived, see the Governor alone and say to him in -secret, - -"I cannot issue this warrant for the arrest of Alick Gell for -breaking prison to procure that girl's release because _I_ did it." - -What would happen then? The Governor (he was a just man if a hard -one) would say, - -"In that case, you cannot be a Judge in this island any longer." - -But that would be all. Out of consideration for his daughter, and -perhaps for the man who was to become his daughter's husband, the -Governor would go no farther. Some show he might make of publishing -the police notice, but he would never send to a foreign country. - -There would be no scandal. The public would know nothing. They had -heard that the new Deemster had been unwell, and would be told that -his health had broken down altogether, and he had had to resign his -office. It would be a month's talk, and then--Time would cover up -the whole miserable story in the merciful vein in which it hides so -many of our misdoings. - -And Fenella? He would tell Fenella also. It would be a shock to -her, but she would be on his side now. She would see that he had -only tried to prevent a judicial murder, to secure the happiness of -two unhappy creatures who, but for him, would have been plunged in -misery. They would marry and go away from the island, to Switzerland -perhaps, and live there for the rest of their lives. - -"Yes, that's it, that's it," he told himself. - -It was a cruel comforting--like the surgeon's knife, which, while -taking away a man's disease, takes some of his life-blood also. - -He thought of his father, how proud the old Deemster had been of his -judicial position and how anxious that his son should succeed to -it--it was pitiful. He thought of Fenella, what great things they -had planned to do when he became a Judge, and now all their hopes had -fallen to dust and ashes--it was agonising. - -Was it necessary? Inevitable? To be cast aside on life's highway in -suffering and shame everlasting; to be like a wretched ship that lies -at the bottom of the sea, swaying to the ground-swell below, and -moaning like a lost soul to the moans of the other wrecks in the womb -of the ocean? - -It was not as if he had injured anybody. He had done harm to nobody, -and nothing. Yet he must do what he had thought of. There was no -help for it. - -It was late. The household was asleep. The log fire he had been -crouching over had fallen to ashes on the hearth. He was shivering -and he got up to go to bed. Before leaving the library he sat at the -desk under his mother's picture and wrote-- - - -"_Please call me at six. I must take the first train to Douglas._" - - -He was laying this on the table on the landing, lighting his candle -and putting out the lamp, when he heard wheels on the carriage drive, -and then a loud ringing at the front door bell. - -Who could have come at this time of night? Candle in hand he went -down and opened the door. - -It was Joshua Scarff. - - - - -CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - -"HE DROVE OUT THE MAN" - -"Sorry to trouble you at this hour, your Honour, but I had to come -and tell you what has happened." - -"What is it, Joshua?" - -"There has been a fearful outbreak of lawlessness in Douglas this -evening--breaking of shop-windows, looting of the houses of -well-to-do people, assaults and outrages of all kinds." - -"What is the reason of it?" - -"Mob reason, and you know what that is, your Honour. They say -justice in the island is corrupt. If you are rich you get whatever -you want. If you are poor you get nothing. A guilty man and a -guilty woman have been allowed to escape. Why? Because the man -belongs to a family of 'the big ones' and is a friend of the -Deemster." - -"Who say that?" - -"Old Qualtrough and Dan Baldromma." - -"Baldromma? If his step-daughter has escaped what has he to complain -of?" - -"Nothing, but that's not the worst, Sir." - -"What is?" - -"The Governor has telegraphed for soldiers from across the water. -They are to come over by the first boat in the morning. It's a -frightful blunder, Sir." - -Beads of perspiration were rolling down from Joshua's bald crown. - -"There'll be bloodshed, and Manxmen won't stand for that. They've -been their own masters for a thousand years. The Governor can't -treat them as if they were Indian coolies." - -"What do you think ought to be done?" - -"That's what I've come to say, Sir. I had gone to bed but I couldn't -take rest, so I got Willie Dawson to drive me over. The people may -be wrong about justice, but the only way to pacify them is to prove -it." - -"How?" - -"The guilty man in this case must give himself up." - -"Give himself up?" - -Joshua took off his coloured spectacles and wiped the damp off them. - -"I thought your Honour might know where he was. He can't be far -away, Sir." - -"Well?" - -"He ought to be told to deliver himself up to the Courts to save the -island from ruin. And if he won't he ought to be denounced." - -"Denounced?" - -"It will be a terrible ordeal--I know that, Sir. Your friend! Your -life-long friend! Pity! Great pity!" - -For a perceptible time Stowell did not speak. Then, in a voice which -Joshua had never heard before, he said, - -"Go home and go to bed, Joshua. I'll see what can be done." - -Joshua had gone, the door had closed behind him and his wheels were -dying away down the drive, but Stowell continued to stand in the -hall, candle in hand and stiff as a statue. At length he returned to -the dining-room, put the candle on the table and sat before the empty -hearth. - -It was all over! The plan he had made for himself was impossible. -There could be no resigning in secret and stealing away from the -island. - -He had done harm to something. He had done harm to Justice. If -Justice fell down what stood up? The man who took the law into his -own hands was a criminal, and as a criminal he ought to be punished. - -Punished? The shock was terrible. Was he then to give himself up? -To confess publicly? - -He saw himself pleading guilty to having broken prison. He heard the -whole wretched tale of his relation to the unhappy prisoner, and of -his trying and condemning her, coming out in open Court. He heard -the howls of execration from the people who had hitherto loved and -cheered him. - -"Is there no other way?" he asked himself. - -He saw himself in prison, in prison clothes, in the prison cell, on -the prison bed. Above all he saw another Deemster going upstairs to -sit on the bench while he lay in the vaults below. - -He thought of his father and his family--four hundred years of the -Ballamoars and not a stain on the name of one of them until now. He -thought of Fenella--the cruel shame he would bring on her. Granted -he was guilty, and deserved punishment, had he any right to punish -Fenella also? - -The clock on the landing struck one. An owl shrieked in the -plantation. He got up and strode about the room. The impulses of -the natural man began to fight for safety. - -"Good God, what am I thinking about?" he asked himself. - -What had he done to deserve all this? He had broken a wicked law -which had no right to exist, but did that require that he should -denounce himself, go to prison, degrade his father's name, break -Fenella's heart and put himself up on a gibbet for every passer-by to -jeer at and spit upon? - -"What madness! What rank madness!" - -He thought of the thousands of "great" men in all ages of the world -who had broken bad laws, and yet lived in honour and died in glory. -Why should he suffer for doing the same thing? Why he and not the -others? He laughed in scorn of his own weakness, but at the next -moment a mocking voice within him seemed to say, - -"Go on! Go on! Issue that warrant! Let the unhappy girl who -trusted you be brought back and executed. Let the friend who loved -you be arrested and tried and sent to jail for the crime you have -committed. Go through all that duplicity again. Let the whole -community be submerged in anarchy as the consequence of your sin. -But remember, when you come out of it all, you will be a devil, and -your soul will be damned." - -That terrified him and he sat down by the empty hearth once more. -After a while he found his hands wet under his face. He heard a -soft, caressing voice pleading with him, - -"Victor, my darling heart! Resist this great temptation and peace -will come to you. Do the right, and no matter how low you may fall -in the eyes of men, you will look upon the face of God." - -It was Fenella's voice--he was sure of that. Across the mountain and -through the darkness of the night her pure soul was speaking to him. - -The candle had burnt to the socket by this time, but a new light came -to him. For more than a year he had been a slave, dragging a chain -of sin behind him. At every step in his wrong-doing his chain had -lengthened. He must break it and be free. - -"Yes, I will go up to Government House in the morning," he thought, -"confess everything and take my punishment." - -It was only right, only just. And when the cruel thought came that -the next time he entered the court-house it would be to stand in the -dock, with the dread certainty of his doom, he told himself that that -would be right too--the Judge also must be judged. - - - -II - -Groping his way upstairs in the darkness he entered his bedroom and -locked the door behind him. He found a fire burning, the sofa drawn -up in front of it, a lamp burning on the bureau that stood at one -side, and at the other the high-backed arm-chair in which his father -used to undress for bed. He was surprised to see that the fire had -been newly made up, but hearing footsteps in the adjoining bedroom he -understood. - -"Poor Janet!" he thought. - -His thoughts were thundering through his brain like waves in a deep -cavern. He was convinced that he would never survive the ordeal that -was before him. When men lived through long imprisonments it was -because they had hope that the beautiful days would come again. He -had no such hope, so, sitting at his bureau, he began to sort and -arrange his papers like one who was going away on a long journey. - -After that he wrote a letter to the Attorney-General: - - - "DEAR MASTER,--When this letter comes to your hand you will know - the occasion for it. I am aware that it cannot have the - authority of a will, but (in the absence of a more regular - document) I trust the Clerk of the Rolls may find a way to act - upon it as an expression of my last wishes. - - "I desire that Janet Curphey should be suitably provided for as - long as she lives. She has been a mother to me all my life, the - only mother I have ever known. - - "I desire that Mrs. Collister of Baldromma may have such a - provision made for her as will liberate her from the tyrannies of - her husband. - - "I desire that Thomas Vondy, formerly the jailer at Castle - Rushen, should be taken care of in any way you may consider best. - - "Finally, if I do not live to return home, I desire that - everything else of which I die possessed should be offered to - Fenella Stanley as a mark of my deep love and devotion. - - "I think that is all." - - -Having signed, sealed and inscribed his letter he put it in his -breast pocket. Then taking a drawer out of the bureau he carried it -to the sofa, intending to destroy the contents of it. - -The first thing that came to his hand was the letter which Alick Gell -had given him at Derby Haven. It was marked "To be opened after we -have gone," and turned out to be a memorandum to his father's -executors, telling them he was leaving the island with no intention -of returning to it, and asking (as his only request) that in the -event of an inheritance becoming due to him, seven hundred pounds, -which had been advanced to him at various times, should be repaid to -Deemster Victor Stowell--"the best friend man ever had." - -Feeling a certain twinge, Stowell hesitated for a moment, with the -memorandum shaking in his hand, and then threw it into the fire. - -There were other papers of the same kind (I O U's and the like) which -shared the same fate, and then up from the bottom of the drawer, came -a leather-bound book. It was "Isobel's Diary." He had decided to -destroy that also. As the sanctuary of his father's soul he could -not allow it to be looked into by other eyes. - -But, never having looked at it himself since the night of his -father's death, he could not resist the temptation to glance through -it once more before committing it to the flames. It fell open at the -page which said, - - - "So it's all well at last, Isobel. Your son can do without me - now. He needs his father no longer. With that brave woman by - his side he will go up and up. They will marry and carry on the - traditions of the Ballamoars. It is the dearest wish of my heart - that they should do so." - - -His throat throbbed. Ah, those hopes, all wrecked and dead! Going -down on one knee before the fire, and holding the book on the other, -he tore out page by page and burnt it, feeling as if he were burning -his right hand also. He was afraid of tears and had rarely given way -to them, but he was weeping like a heart-broken woman before the last -page had been consumed. - -Then, taking Fenella's letters from his pocket-book, he prepared to -burn them too. They brought a faint perfume, a feeling of warmth, a -sense of her physical presence. Most of them were notes of no -consequence--appointments to ride, drive, fish, skate, all touched by -her gay raillery ("eight o'clock in the morning--is that too early -for you, Victor, dear?")--he had preserved every scrap in her -hand-writing. But one was the letter she wrote to him when he was in -London, and with palpitating tenderness he held it under the lamp to -read it again: - - - "Victor, when I think of the life that is so surely before you, - and that I shall walk through it by your side, perfectly united - with you, sharing the same hopes and aims and desires, enjoying - the same sunshine and weathering the same storms, I have a vision - of happiness that makes me cry with joy." - - -His heart swelled like a troubled sea, and to conquer his emotion he -thrust the letter hurriedly into the flames. But before it was more -than scorched he snatched it back and was preparing to return it to -his pocket when he bethought himself how soon it must pass into other -hands with everything he carried about him. And then, turning his -head away, and feeling as if he were burning his heart also, he put -it into the fire. - -After that he dropped back on to the sofa with feelings about Fenella -that found no relief in tears. One by one the joyous hours of their -love returned to his memory. They seemed to ring in his ears with -the melancholy sound of far-off bells. It was a cruel pleasure. - -All at once came a moment of fierce rebellion. When he had told -himself downstairs that in making the great renunciation of his -public office he must renounce Fenella also he had not realised what -it meant. It meant that never again, for as long as he lived -(Fenella being impossible to him), would Woman take any part in his -existence. - -A cold fear took possession of him at that thought. He was a -man--was he for the rest of his life, if he survived his -imprisonment, to be cut off from his kind, separated, alone? - -Better be dead than live such a life! - -Then another and still more startling thought came to him--why not? -A letter to the Governor, exonerating Gell, and then it would all be -over. No warrant! No trial! Why not? - -Outside the night was dark. Not a breath of wind was stirring. In -the silence of earth and sky he could hear the "swish, swish" of the -sea on the shingle at the top of the shore. It must be high water. - -"Why not? Why not?" - -His head was dizzy. He was thinking of a boat that lay among the -lush grass on the sandy bank above the beach. Alick and he had often -gone fishing in her. She was heavy, but he was strong--he could push -her into the water. - -He saw himself pulling out to sea, far out, beyond the Point, to -where the Gulf Stream in its long race round half the world swept by -the island to the coast of Iceland. And then, as the dawn broke in -the eastern heavens, he saw himself scuttling the boat and going down -with her. - -No one would know. The boat would lie at the bottom of the sea until -she fell to pieces, and he--he would go north on the way of the great -waters until he came to the feet of the frozen Jokulls, where nobody -would be able to say who he was or where he came from. - -No scandal! No outcry! No vulgar sensation! Just a pang to -Fenella, and then the darkness of death over all. - -Thinking the lamp was burning low he was reaching out his hand to -turn up the wick when a sense came of somebody being in the room with -him. He looked round. All was silent. - -"Is anybody there?" he asked aloud. - -There was no answer. The dread of miscarrying for ever if he died by -his own act began to struggle on the battle field of his soul with -the fear of being cut off from the living who live in God's peace. -He shivered and was trying to rise when again he had the sense of -somebody else in the bedroom. - -"Who is it?" - -At the next moment, raising his eyes, he thought he saw his father in -the arm-chair where he had seen him so often. The august face was -the same as when he saw it last in that room, except that the -melancholy eyes were now open. - -"I'm ill," he thought, and he closed his eyes and put his hand over -them. - -But when he opened his eyes again his father was still there, looking -at him with tenderness and compassion. His brain reeled and he fell -face down on the cushions of the sofa. - -Then he heard his father speaking to him, gently, affectionately, but -firmly, just as he used to do when he was alive. - -"My son! My dear son! I know what you are thinking of doing, and I -warn you not to do it. No man can run away from the consequences of -his sins. If he flies from them in this life he must meet them in -the life hereafter, and then it will be a hundred-fold more terrible -to be swept from the face of the living God." - -"Father!" - -Stowell tried to cry aloud but could not. His father's voice ceased -and at the next moment a vision flashed before him. A line of -miserable-looking men were standing before an awful tribunal. He -knew who they were--the unjust judges of the world who had corrupted -justice. All the grandeur in which they had clothed themselves on -earth was gone, and they were there in the nakedness of their shame -crying, - -"Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!" - -Stowell felt as if he were falling off the world into a void of -unfathomable night. Then blindness fell upon the eyes of his mind -and he knew no more. - - - - -CHAPTER FORTY-THREE - -THE DAWN OF MORNING - -"Victor! Victor!" - -It was Janet's voice outside the door. - -"Eh?" - -"Six o'clock. Didn't you want to catch the first train in town, -dear?" - -"Oh yes! All right. I'll be down presently." - -Stowell found it difficult to recover consciousness. He was lying on -the sofa, and he looked around. There was the armchair--it was -empty. But the lamp on the bureau was still burning. He must have -slept, for he was feeling refreshed and even strong. - -Leaping to his feet he blew out the lamp and pulled back the window -curtains. It was a beautiful morning, tranquil as the sky and -noiseless as the dew. Over the tops of the tall trees the bald crown -of old Snaefell was bathed in sunshine. - -He was like another man. Life had no terrors for him now. It was -just as if a curse had fallen from him in the night. No more -visions! No more spectres! He knew what he had to do and he would -do it. He had a sense of immense emancipation. He felt like a slave -who had broken the chain which he had dragged after him for years. -He was a free man once more. - -Throwing off coat and waistcoat he washed--lashing the cold water -over face and head and neck as if he were diving into one of the dubs -in the glen--and then went downstairs with a strong step. - -Breakfast was not quite ready, so he stepped out over the piazza, to -the farm-yard. The cheerful place was full of its morning -activities. Cows were mooing their way to the grass of the fields -before barking dogs, and milkmaids were carrying their frothing pails -across to the dairy. - -He saluted everybody he came upon. "Good-morning, Betty!" - -"Good-morning, Mary!" The girls smiled and looked proud, but they -said afterwards that the young master's voice sounded as if he were -saying good-bye to them. - -Unconsciously he was going about like one who was taking a last look -round before setting out on a long journey. He went into the stable, -and Molly, his young chestnut mare, turned her head and neighed at -him. He went into the empty cow-house, and four young calves in -boxes licked, with their long moist tongues, the hand he held down to -them. - -On the way back to the house he met Robbie Creer, who was full of -another story of Mrs. Collister of Baldromma. She had taken the -ground with the ebb tide, poor woman. They had put her into the -asylum. The doctors said her case was incurable. She was always -saying the old Dempster had come from the dead to take her Bessie out -of prison. - -"But what a blessed end," said Stowell. "She'll think her daughter -is in heaven, so she'll always be happy." - -"It's like she will, Sir," said Robbie, looking puzzled, and going -indoors for his morning bowl of porridge he said to his wife, - -"A mortal quare thing to say, though, and the woman in the madhouse." - -Stowell ate with an appetite (Janet plying him with coffee and eggs -and toasted muffins), and then young Robbie brought round the -dog-cart. Janet helped him on with his light loose overcoat and went -to the door with him. - -He paused there, pulling on his driving-gloves and thinking what -cruel pain the dear soul would suffer when she heard that night what -he had done during the day. At last he threw his arms about her and -kissed her, saying with a gulp, - -"Good-bye, mother! God bless you!" - -And then he sprang up into the cart, snatched at the reins, pulled -them taut, and (after the young mare had leapt on her forelegs) -darted away. - -As he approached the turn of the drive where the house was hidden by -the trees he turned and looked back at it--what a home to lose! - -Janet, who was still at the porch, smoothing her silvery hair, -thought he had looked back at her, and she waved her hand to him. -Nobody had said a word to her, yet she knew he had been suffering as -a result of some terrible wrong-doing. She thought she knew what it -was, too, and she had wept bitter tears over it. But he had not a -fault in her eyes now. - -Her boy! Hers all the way up since he was a child and used to run -about the lawn in pinafores. Heaven bless him! He was the best -thing God had ever made. - - - -II - -The train to town was full to overflowing. The northside people, -having heard of yesterday's doings, were going up to see for -themselves "what them toots in Douglas" were doing. - -In spite of the guard's deferential protests Stowell stepped into an -open third-class carriage. It had been humming like a beehive until -then, but except for a general salutation it became silent when he -entered. - -A draper's assistant who sat opposite handed him an English -newspaper, two days old, with an article on the escape from Castle -Rushen. The incident was a disgrace to the insular administration, -and if the Governor could not offer a satisfactory explanation the -sooner the island's Home Rule came to an end the better for Justice. - -One or two of the passengers tried to draw Stowell into conversation -about the article, but he said little or nothing. Then some -black-coated persons (well-to-do farmers and the like) gave the talk -another turn. - -"Still and for all," said one, "that doesn't justify such doings as -there are in Douglas!" "Chut!" said another. "It isn't justice the -agitators are wanting, it's robbery." "Truth enough," said a third, -"it's the land they're after, and if the Governor isn't doing -something soon, there'll be not an acre left at the one of us." -"Give them a pig of their own sow," said a fat farmer. "Men like -Qualtrough and Baldromma ought to be taken to say and dropped -overboard." - -Again the passengers tried to draw Stowell into conversation, and -when they found they could not get him to speak to them they spoke at -him. - -"Where's the big men of the island that they're not telling the -people they're bringing it to wreck and ruin?" - -"When a man is claver--claver uncommon--and mighty with the tongue, -he ought to be showing the ignorant gommerals the way they're going." - -"Yes," said a little man (he was a local preacher), "when a man has -the gift it's his duty to the Lord to use it." - -"He must be a right man though," said the fat farmer, "straight as a -mast himself, same as some we've had at Ballamoar in the good ould -days gone by." - -There was silence for a moment after this, and then an old man by the -opposite window was heard to whisper, - -"Lave him alone, men; he knows what hour the clock is striking." - -When the train reached Douglas, Stowell went off with a heavy face. -It was remarked that he had not shaken hands--his father used to -shake hands with everybody. - -"He's his father's son for all," said the old man by the window. - -Stowell took the cable-car at the bottom of the Prospect Hill which -is at the foot of the town. Douglas was still in a state of -agitation and the driver had as much as he could do to forge his way, -without accidents, through the tumultuous throngs in the thoroughfare. - -A cordon of red-coated soldiers from Castletown surrounded Government -office, and a noisy crowd (including women with children) were -jeering at them from the middle of the street, and shouting up at the -windows, under the impression that the Governor was within. - -The shops bore signs of yesterday's rioting---many having their -shutters up, while the windows of others were barricaded with new -boarding. - -Stowell got out of the car at the terminus and made the rest of his -journey afoot. At the top of the hill, where the road turns towards -the Governor's house, he came upon a mass meeting. From a horseless -lorry, decorated with banners, a burly old ruffian with shaggy grey -hair (Qualtrough, M.H.K.) was speaking in a voice of thunder, while, -on the cross-seat by his side, Dan Baldromma was sitting with the air -of a martyr. - -"There's a man on this platform who has gone to prison for his -principles. That's what Justice in the Isle of Man is. And that's -what they would like to be doing with the lot of ye, the big ones of -the island. But, gentlemen and ladies, their rotten ould ship is -floating on the pumps and she'll soon be sinking." - -When Stowell reached the Governor's gate he paused, being out of -breath and not so strong as he had imagined. From that point he -could see a broad stretch of the coast, as well as the shadowy -outlines of the English hills on the other side of the channel. A -steamer was sailing into the bay. Perhaps she was bringing the -English cavalry the Governor had sent for. - -Life is sweet when death is at the door. At that last moment, -although he had thought his mind was made up, Stowell found that his -heart was failing him. Must he go on? Deliberately destroy himself? -No outside power compelling him? The world was wide--why not leave -all this wreck and ruin behind him and in some other country begin -life anew? - -The moment of weakness passed and he went on. Half way up the drive, -where the trees broke clear and the long white façade of Government -House became visible, he dropped his head. He was thinking of the -last time he had been there and remembering again the stinging words -with which Fenella had driven him away. But there was strength in -the thought that he was about to break the chain which he had dragged -after him so long, and save his people at the same time. - -When the maid opened the door, he asked for the Governor. - -"Yes, your Honour," said the maid, "but Miss Fenella wishes to see -you first, Sir." - -His heart was beating hard when he stepped into the house. - - - - -CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR - -"GOD GAVE HIM DOMINION" - -Three times during breakfast that morning Fenella had seen somebody -coming up the drive. The first to come was the Major from -Castletown, riding at a fast trot. On being shown into the -breakfast-room, with spurs clanking, he told the Governor that a mob -had gathered about Government Office and were very threatening. - -"Tell the Mayor to read the Riot Act, and then do what is necessary -for the protection of life and property," said the Governor. - -The second to come was the Chief Constable, driving rapidly in a -hackney carriage. On entering the room with his heavy step, he said -the steamer from England was in sight and the soldiers would be -landed at the pier within half an hour. - -"If the thoroughfares are still thronged with riotous mobs at that -time," said the Governor, "tell the cavalry to ride through them." - -The last to come up the drive was a solitary man afoot, walking -slowly and pausing at intervals as if his strength had failed him. - -Fenella knew who it was, and rising hastily from the table she went -into the drawing-room. - -When Stowell was brought in to her she was shocked at the change in -his appearance. He looked ten years older. His dark hair had become -white about the temples and his eyes were full of a strange light. - -"How he must have suffered," she thought, and an almost overpowering -desire took possession of her to put her arms about him and comfort -him. - -He looked at her and the same thought and the same impulse came to -him. But they were afraid of each other, and with the surging ocean -of their love between them they stood apart, but trembling. At -length, trying not to look into each other's faces, they began to -speak. - -"Fenella!" - -"Victor!" - -"You know why I have been sent for?" - -"Yes, and that is why I want to speak to you before you see my -father. There are things you ought to know." - -"Yes?" - -"Mr. Vondy, the jailer from Castle Rushen, was here two days ago, to -be examined by the Governor, the Attorney-General and the Chief -Constable." - -"Did he say anything?" - -"Not to them." - -"To you, perhaps?" - -"Yes. I brought him in here. He told me what occurred after I left -the Castle." - -"Then you know?" - -She dropped her head and answered "Yes." - -"I had to do it, Fenella--I thought I had to." - -A moment passed. - -"He asked me to tell you that he would keep his word to you, whatever -happened." - -"Did he say that?" - -"Yes." - -A spasm in Stowell's throat seemed to be stifling him. - -"I did wrong, Fenella, terribly wrong, but there is one thing I will -ask of you." - -"What is it, Victor?" - -"Not to judge me until you know what I've come to do to-day." - -Fenella, deeply affected, thought she caught a glimpse of his meaning. - -"Do you intend to resign, Victor?" - -"Yes, but that is not all." - -"What is, Victor?" She was thinking of his exile, his possible -banishment. - -"Perhaps I am speaking to you for the last time, Fenella. That's why -I am glad you have given me this opportunity of seeing you." - -She trembled, thinking he meant suicide, and said in a choking voice, - -"You don't mean that you intend to take your .... No, no, that is -impossible. Think of your father." - -Stowell did not speak for a moment. Then he said, - -"I saw him last night, Fenella." - -"Who?" - -"My father. I was thinking of that as a way out of all this -miserable wrong-doing, when he came to warn me." - -"How he must have suffered," thought Fenella. - -"But perhaps you think it was only a delusion?" - -"Indeed no! If the spirits of our dear ones may not come back to -speak to us in our times of temptation...." - -"But my father was not the only one who spoke to me last night, -Fenella." - -"Who else did, Victor?" - -"You. I heard you as plainly as I hear you now." - -Fenella's bosom was heaving. "When was that?" she asked. - -"In the middle of the night. But perhaps you were in bed and asleep -at that time." - -"No .... no, I did not sleep until after daybreak. In the middle of -the night I was" .... (she was breathing audibly) "I was praying." - -He looked up at her with his heavy eyes. - -"Were you praying for me, Fenella?" - -She cast down her eyes and answered "Yes." - -Another moment passed, and then in a husky voice he said, - -"Fenella, what did you pray for for me?" - -"That you might have strength to do what was right, whatever it might -cost you." - -He reached forward and grasped her hands. - -"Did you know what that meant, Fenella--whatever it might cost me?" - -"Yes," she said, raising her eyes, "and at length an answer came to -me." - -"What answer?" - -"That if you did, and made atonement, however low you might fall in -the eyes of men you would look upon the face of God." - -Stowell gasped, dropped her hands and for a while was speechless. -Then he said, - -"And do you think I will?" - -"I am sure you will, Victor. I had a sign from God." - -"Do you, after all, believe in God, Fenella?" - -"Indeed yes. And you--don't you??" - -"My father did. He used to kneel by his bed like a little child -every night and every morning." - -She saw that he did not speak for himself, and a great wave of love -and compassion for the sin-laden man stormed her heart. - -"Victor," she said, tears springing to her eyes, "you must try to -forgive me. I've not been what I ought to have been to you--I see -that now. Whatever you have done I should have clung to you, not -driven you away from me, and let you go on from sin to sin, doubting -God's mercy and forgiveness. Let me do so now. We belong to each -other, Victor. There can never be anybody else for either of us as -long as we live. Let us go together." - -She had seized his hands. The hands of both were trembling. - -"Would to God you could, Fenella. But it is too late for that now. -I have gone too far for you to follow me. Where I go now I must go -alone." - -"Don't say that." - -"Wait until I have seen your father." - -At that moment the maid came into the room to tell the Deemster that -the Governor, having heard that he was in the house, wished to see -him immediately. - -Stowell was turning to go, when Fenella put a trembling hand on his -shoulder and said in a whisper, - -"Victor, whatever happens with my father, promise me that you will -never do that." - -"But if the Governor...." - -"Never mind about the Governor now, promise me." - -There was a moment of silence and then he said, "I promise," and with -head down passed out of the room. - -Being alone, Fenella tried in vain to compose herself. The fear that -Stowell might kill himself (as a result of the public exposure and -humiliation which the Governor would impose upon him) threw her into -violent agitation. - -Unable to support the strain of her anxiety she could not resist the -temptation to listen at the door of her father's room. She heard the -two voices within--Stowell's in tones of pitiful supplication, her -father's in accents of fierce expostulation. At length she heard her -own name mentioned and then she could contain herself no longer. - -Opening the door noiselessly she entered the room. The two men were -face to face, looking at each other with flaming eyes. - - - -II - -"Come in, Stowell. I'm glad you're early. I wanted a word with you -before the others arrived. Sit down." - -The Governor too was violently agitated. He was striding about the -room. His grey hair, usually brushed down with military precision, -was loose and disordered, as if he had been running his hands through -it, and his pipe, still alight and as if forgotten, was smoking on -the arm of his chair. - -"You came by train?" - -"Yes." - -"Then you saw the soldiers. I had to do it. I couldn't allow this -raggabash to take possession of the island. There may be casualties, -but the shortest way is the most merciful--that's my experience. Sit -down. Why don't you sit down?" - -But the Governor went on walking and Stowell continued to stand. - -"They say this rioting is the sequel to the escape from Castle -Rushen. Only an excuse, of course, but that makes no difference. If -we are to justify our administration of Justice in the eyes of the -authorities across the water we must re-capture those runaways. The -man--the guilty man in particular--must be locked up in prison. The -Attorney and the Colonel will be here presently. You'll be able to -help them to the personal description they want--nobody better--and -then issue the warrant." - -Stowell, who had been clutching the back of a chair behind which he -was standing with a fixed stare, said in a quivering voice, - -"I'm sorry, your Excellency. I cannot do that." - -"Eh? Cannot do what?" - -"I cannot issue the warrant for the arrest of Alick Gell for breaking -prison because...." - -"Well?" - -Stowell swallowed something in his throat and continued .... "because -_I_ did it." - -The Governor drew up sharply and said, - -"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?" - -Stowell, who had recovered himself, answered, - -"No, I am not ill, your Excellency." - -"Then you must be mad--stark mad. It's impossible. You can never -have done such a thing." - -"I am not mad either, Sir. What I tell you is the truth--it is God's -truth, Sir." - -And then, excusing nothing, extenuating nothing, Stowell told the -Governor what he had done, and how he had done it. - -"I used my official position to effect the escape of the prisoner, -and I arranged for her flight, with her companion, to a foreign -country." - -The Governor listened without drawing breath. - -"But why .... why did you .... was it because I refused to remit...." - -"No, I did it because I came to see that the law which permitted you -to order the execution of that girl was a crime, and that a higher -law called upon me to undo it." - -"A crime? Good Lord, what if it was? What had you to do with that?" - -"I had tried and condemned her. And besides, I had my personal -reasons for wishing the prisoner to escape punishment." - -"But damn it all, man, when you were doing all this for the girl, -didn't you see what you were doing for yourself?" - -"Not then. But now I see that in preventing the law from committing -a crime I committed a crime against the law, and am no longer fit to -be a Judge. That's why I'm here now, Sir--not to issue that warrant, -but to resign my judgeship." - -"Resign your judgeship?" - -"Yes, but that's not all--to ask you to order my arrest and commit me -to prison." - -The Governor, who had been half stupefied, took possession of himself -at last. - -"Commit you to prison? Good heavens, what are you saying? A -Deemster in prison! Whoever heard of such a thing!" - -"I am guilty of a crime against Justice...." began Stowell, but the -Governor bore him down. - -"Tush! I don't care for the moment whether you are or are not. -Neither do I care whether the law which condemned the prisoner to -death, was or was not a crime. What I have to deal with is the -present situation. You say you want me to order your arrest--is that -it?" - -"Yes, you said yourself the guilty man ought to be in prison." - -"But heavens alive, man, can't you see the disgrace? Gell is a -private person, while you are a Judge, the Judge who tried and -condemned the prisoner. What is to happen to Justice in the island -if a Judge is condemned and imprisoned?" - -Stowell tried to speak, but again the Governor bore him down. - -"Oh, I know what you'll say--you'll talk about your conscience. But -what is your conscience to me against the honour of the public -service and the welfare of the whole community?" - -"The honour of the public service cannot rest on a lie, Sir," said -Stowell. "It would be a living lie if I continued to be a Judge, and -the only way to save the island is to tell it the truth, no matter -what...." - -"Don't talk damned nonsense." - -Stowell drew himself up. - -"Do you wish me, then, to issue that warrant against Alick Gell now -that you know that I am myself the guilty man?" - -The Governor flinched for a moment, then smote the top of his desk -and said, - -"I know nothing of the kind, Sir, and don't want to know. I believe -you're mad--made mad by the ordeal you have lately gone through. -Nothing will make me believe the contrary." - -There was silence after that for several minutes. Then the Governor, -who had thrown himself in his chair, said in a softer tone, - -"Stowell, listen to me. I partly understand you. But even if you -did this unbelievable thing, and are satisfied you did it from a good -motive, why can't you hold your tongue about it?" - -"I have thought of that, Sir," said Stowell, with a tremor in his -voice. "I have fought it all out with myself. Believe me I would -have given all I have in the world not to have had to come here on -this errand. But the life of a Judge would be impossible to me with -a lie like that for its foundation. My work cannot be a mockery, -Sir. I cannot allow another to suffer for what I have done." - -The Governor leapt up from his seat. - -"You talk about others suffering for what you have done--have you -forgotten how many others must suffer if I allow you to do what you -want to do now? Think of your island--your native island--do you -want to cover it with dishonour? Think of your profession--do you -want to load it with disgrace? Think of your father, who loved you -as no father ever loved a son. We put up his portrait in the -court-house the other day--do you want to pull it down? And then -think of me--I suppose I ran some risk when I recommended you for -your position...." - -Stowell was trying to speak, but again the Governor put up his hand.. - -"Oh, you needn't thank me. Perhaps I wasn't acting altogether -unselfishly. I may have been wanting somebody to stand by me now -that I'm growing old, somebody like your father--able to fight these -rascals who are trying to ruin everything. And when you came along, -you whom I had known since you were a boy, the son of my old friend, -who was to be my son some day...." - -The Governor, startled by the emotion that was coming over him, broke -away and crossed the room, saying, - -"But damn it all, why need I talk of myself? There's Fenella--have -you forgotten Fenella?" - -It was at this moment that Fenella entered the room. Neither of the -men saw her. She stood noiselessly at the door. - -"If I do what you want, order your arrest, what's the first question -the Court will ask you--why did you help the prisoner to escape? -Then the whole wretched story of your relations with the girl -Collister will come out. And what will be the result? Fenella's -name will become a byword. It will be the common talk of every slut -in the island that she came second after your woman .... your offal." - -Stowell flamed up with anger for a moment, and then choked with -tears. After a short silence he said, - -"I can never be sufficiently grateful to you, Sir, for what you've -done for me. As for Fenella, I can hardly trust myself to speak. -The thought of her suffering is the bitterest part of my own. I -would live out the rest of my life on my knees if I could undo the -wrong I have done her. But I cannot bring her down with me. I -cannot take up again my life as a Judge after it has been so -hideously disfigured and ask her to share it. Let me go to -prison...." - -Sobbing in his throat Stowell could go no further. Fenella, sobbing -in her heart, crept noiselessly out of the room. - -The Governor, in spite of himself, was visibly affected. - -"Look here, my boy," he said. "I'll tell you what I'll do. It's -going far, perhaps too far for the safety of the public service, but -to prevent worse things happening I'll take the risk. I'll stop that -warrant and hush up this miserable scandal on one condition--that you -say nothing, take leave of absence on grounds of ill-health, go -abroad and never come back again." - -Stowell shook his head. - -"Why not? Good gracious, why not? The guilty ones have gone. Your -secret is safe. Except ourselves, nobody knows it. Why shouldn't -you?" - -"I dare not," said Stowell. - -"Dare not?" - -"I have committed a crime. If I do not pay for it in this life I -must do so hereafter. Therefore I ask for my punishment now." - -The Governor got the better of his emotion. - -"So you wish to resign your office and ask me to order your arrest? -Well, I won't do it. I am the only authority to whom you can resign -and I decline to accept your resignation--I refuse to transmit it to -the Home Authorities. What you wish to do would undermine the -stability of law and the authority of Government. It would humiliate -me and destroy my daughter's happiness. Therefore I not only refuse -to receive your resignation. I forbid it." - -Stowell hesitated for a moment and then said, - -"In that case, your Excellency, you will force me to denounce myself." - -"Denounce....? You mean in open Court?" - -"Yes, it will be my duty, and I shall be compelled to do it." - -The Governor's wrath became rage. With a ring of sarcasm in his -voice he said, - -"Very well! Very well! I cannot prevent you. Denounce yourself in -open Court if you are so unwise, so insane. But understand--if you -are compelled to do your duty, _I_ shall be compelled to do mine -also. After you have made your public confession and the Courts have -dealt with you, I shall issue the warrant just the same. You say the -fugitives have gone to a foreign country, but no foreign country will -refuse to give up a condemned murderess. The woman shall be brought -back and executed according to the sentence you pronounced upon her. -More than that, your friend, your confederate, shall be brought back -also, and dealt with according to his crime. Therefore your public -confession will be of no avail. It will be an empty farce, ruining -three lives that might otherwise have been saved." - -Stowell trembled, his lips became white. - -"I beg you not to do that, Sir." - -"I will! I take God to witness that I will. Now choose for yourself -which it is to be--your course or mine?" - -Stowell breathed hard for a moment and then smiled--but such a smile! - -"Your Excellency," he said, "for your own sake I beg of you not to do -it." - -"My sake?" said the Governor, drawing up sharply--he had been -striding about the room again. - -"Yes, yours," said Stowell. "One of those two was my victim, the -other was merely the subject of my will. I alone am guilty, and if I -cannot meet my punishment without bringing such consequences on the -innocent I must meet something else." - -"What else?" - -"Death. Then, in the eyes of heaven, the crime against the law will -be _your_ crime and I shall not live to witness it." - -There was a breathless silence. The Governor was dumb-founded. -Stowell stepped towards the door and said in a low voice, - -"God forgive you, Sir. You will never see me again." - -At that moment the maid entered the room to announce the -Attorney-General and the Chief Constable, who came in immediately -behind her. - -"Ah, Victor, how are you?" said the Attorney. "Your Excellency, we -have brought the Warrant." - -"And here," said the Chief Constable, with an obsequious bow to -Stowell, "is the Deemster ready to issue it." - -Nobody spoke, and the Chief Constable, taking a paper out of a long -envelope, proceeded to read it: - -"_This is to command you to whom this Warrant is addressed forthwith -to apprehend Alexander Gell...._" - -"That will do. Give it to me," said the Governor. - -When the Warrant had been given to him he tore it up and threw it -into the fire. The two men were aghast. - -"Your Excellency, what .... what...." - -"This damnable thing must go no further. Let me hear no more about -it." - -After saying this the Governor's strength seemed to leave him. He -dropped into a chair before the fire and gazed at the blazing paper. - -Stowell's trembling hand was on the handle of the door. - -"I thank you for what you've done, Sir," he said, "and wish to God -the matter could end there. But it cannot .... it cannot." - -He went out. The two men looked into each other's faces. A flash of -understanding passed between them, and, without a word more, they -stepped out of the room. - -Meantime, Stowell, going down the corridor, felt a hand that had been -stretched out from the drawing-room, taking hold of his arm and -drawing him in. It was Fenella's. Her face was utterly broken up. -Flinging her arms about him she kissed him passionately. - -"Victor," she said, "do as your heart bids you. Don't think of me -any longer. I am with you in life or death. If you have to go to -prison I will go with you, and if...." - -Unable to say more she broke away from him and hurried into an inner -room. - -The front door rang as Stowell pulled it after him, and when he -walked down the drive with a high step his head was up and his -ravished face aglow. - - - -END OF SIXTH BOOK - - - - -SEVENTH BOOK - -THE RESURRECTION - - -CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE - -THE WAY OF THE CROSS - -There had been wild doings in Douglas since the Chief Constable's -visit to Government House. Stones had been thrown and windows -broken. At length the Mayor, not without personal risk, had read the -Riot Act from the steps of the Town Hall. - -The result had been the reverse of what the Governor expected. The -police, a small force, had charged the mob with their batons, but -they had soon been overpowered. Then the soldiers from Castletown, a -little company of eighty, had attempted to intimidate the crowd with -their rifles, but twice as many stalwart fishermen, coming up behind, -had disarmed them. After that the people had surged through the -streets in delirious triumph. - -At ten o'clock the throng was densest outside Government Office, -which stands midway on the steep declivity of the Prospect Hill. The -police and the soldiers had as much as they could do to guard the -doors of the building. The space in front of it was packed with -people of both sexes and all ages. They were squirming about like -worms on an upturned sod. There were loud shouts and derisive cries. - -"Down with the Governor!" - -"Tell him the steamer leaves for England at nine in the morning." - -Suddenly, with the rapidity of a desert wind, word went through the -crowd that mounted soldiers from England had just been landed at the -pier, and were riding up the principal thoroughfares, driving -everything before them. - -A cold fear came, culminating in terror. Presently the cavalry were -seen to turn the bottom of the hill. They were swinging the flats of -their swords to scatter the crowd. The people screamed and ran in -frantic haste to the parapets on either side of the street. In a -moment the broad space in front of Government Office was clear. - -Clear, save for one tiny object. It was a child, a little girl of -four, who had been clinging to her mother's skirts and in the -scramble had lost her hold of them. - -The cavalry were now coming up the hill at a gallop and the little -one's danger was seen by all. - -"Save the child," people shouted, and more than one ran out a few -paces and then ran back, for the horses seemed to be almost upon -them. The mother was screaming and trying to break into the open, -but women were holding her back. - -At that moment a man, whom nobody recognised at first, pushed his way -through the crowd with powerful arms, and darted out in the direction -of the child. - -"Come back; you'll be killed," cried someone, but the others held -their breath. - -At the next instant the man was lost to sight in the midst of the -cavalry. In the confused movement that followed one of the horses -was seen to rear and swing aside, as if it had been struck in the -mouth by a strong hand. - -When the crowd were conscious of what happened next the cavalry had -galloped past, with its clang of hoofs and rattle of steel, and the -broad space was once more empty. - -Empty save for the man. His head was bare, his hand was bleeding, -and the skirt of the loose overcoat he wore was torn as if a sword -had accidentally slashed it. But in his arms was the child--unhurt -and untouched. - -Then the people saw who he was. He was the Deemster, and they -crowded about him. He gave the little one back to its mother, who -had a still younger child at her breast, and was too breathless from -fright to thank him. - -He tried to conceal himself in the crowd, but they followed him--down -the hill to Athol Street, where the Court-house is--a long train, -chiefly of women and children, with wet eyes and open mouths, crying -to him and to each other, - -"The Deemster! God bless him!" - -They thought he was going to the Court-house to sit on the bench as -Judge, but when he came to the big portico he passed it, and, turning -down a side street, he stopped at a little black door and knocked. - -The door was opened by a police sergeant who was not wearing his -helmet. The Deemster stepped into the vault-like place within and -the door was closed behind him. - -It was the Douglas prison. - - - -II - -The High Bailiff of Douglas held a Court that day. The court-house -was almost empty. Not more than six or seven persons sat in the -places assigned to the public. Three young reporters yawned over -their note-books in their box beside the wall. In the well allotted -to Counsel there were only two advocates in wig and gown. - -A few bare-headed policemen stood near the bench and the Clerk of the -Court sat under it. There was nobody else in the court-house except -the High Bailiff himself, an elderly man with a red face and a -benevolent expression. - -He was trying a number of petty cases, chiefly of larceny and -drunkenness. The light was low and the voices echoed in the vacant -chamber. But from time to time a deadened rumble came from the -streets outside--the clang of horses' hoofs, the derisive cries of a -crowd, the loud shout of a commanding officer, and then a scamper of -feet that was like heavy rain pelting down on the pavement. - -Behind the Jury-box, which was empty, there was a door that led to -the prison below. The last case was being heard when this door was -opened and the Chief Constable came up into Court, followed by -Stowell and a policeman. The Chief Constable took a seat in the -advocates' well; Stowell and the policeman sat on the public benches. - -When the High Bailiff, who was a great respecter of authority, saw -the Deemster enter, he sent a policeman to ask him to come up to a -seat by his side on the bench, but Stowell shook his head. - -The case being tried was that of a farmer who was charged with -driving his country cart on the high road without a stern light. The -defence was that the lamp was alight when he left town, and had been -put out by a high wind that was blowing. On this issue there was a -long questioning and cross-questioning by the advocates, but at -length the case came to a close. - -"Half-a-crown and costs," said the High Bailiff; and then reaching -over to his clerk he asked if that was the last case for the day. - -"Yes, your Worship," said the Clerk, and the High Bailiff was pushing -back his chair, when the Chief Constable rose with an air of -importance. - -"Your Worship, I have a serious charge to make." - -He beckoned to the policeman at the back, who opened the door of the -dock and Stowell stepped into it. - -"I charge his Honour Deemster Victor Stowell, on his own confession, -with breaking prison on Sunday night last between the hours of ten -and twelve, to effect the escape from custody of a prisoner lying -there under sentence of death." - -The High Bailiff seemed to be stupefied and the charge had to be -repeated to him. - -"Eh? What? God bless my soul! On his own confession, you say? Is -the Deemster well? What conceivable motive...." - -"I will give formal evidence, your Worship, and ask for a committal -to General Gaol, when the question of motive will be fully gone into." - -"Well, well! Good gracious me! If it must be it must. It is my -painful duty to put the Deemster back for trial. But I suggest that -a doctor be asked to see him immediately. And meantime" (the High -Bailiff turned to the reporters, who were now busy enough over their -note-books), "may I request the representatives of the press to -publish nothing about this painful matter at present?" - -It was all over in a few minutes. The door behind the Jury-box was -opened again and Stowell and the policeman returned to the cells. - -In less than half-an-hour the news was all over the town. Special -editions of the newspapers (single sheets) had been run off in -furious haste, and the newsboys were shouting through the streets, - - _Arrest of Deemster Victor Stowell._ - - -The news fell on the public like a thunderbolt. It eclipsed their -interest in the soldiers. - - - -III - -Like lightning out of a thunder-cloud the news fell on Government -House also. On hearing it the Governor, who had been thinking less -about the riot than about Stowell's last words if him, broke into -uncontrollable rage. - -"The fool! The infernal fool! After I had given him such a chance, -too!" - -With a determined step he went into the library, where Fenella was -writing letters, and broke the news to her with a kind of fierce joy. -At first her eyes filled with tears and then a proud smile shone -through them. - -"You were right after all, Fenella. I see now that you must throw -the man up," said the Governor. - -"On the contrary," said Fenella. "Now I must stand by him." - -"What on earth do you mean?" - -"I mean that Victor has justified himself." - -"Justified himself?" - -"Yes. The only thing I was afraid of was that he might take his life -to escape from his dishonour. But now that he has made his choice I -have made mine also." - -"Your choice?" - -"I cannot cut him out of my heart because he has been brave enough to -face the consequences of his crime." - -"But good heavens, girl, don't you see that he will be brought up for -trial, and then all the wretched story of the Collister girl will -come out?" - -"I'm prepared for that, father." - -"Fenella," said the Governor, white with the passion that was -mastering him, "if you were my son instead of my daughter do you know -what I should do with you?" - -"You mean you would turn me out of the house? There will be no need -for that--I will go of myself, father." - -"Fenella! Fenella!" cried the Governor, recovering himself, but -Fenella had gone from the room. - -The Governor returned to his smoking-room. For a long half-hour he -ranged about, kicking things out of his way, ringing bells and -snapping at the servants. What was Fenella doing? Could it be -possible that she was taking him at his word? Unable to contain -himself any longer he sent for Miss Green. He got nothing out of the -old lady except lamentations. - -"Oh, dear, oh dear, what is the world coming to?" - -At length, with an air of authority, he went up to Fenella's bedroom, -and found her on her knees before an open trunk into which she was -packing her clothes. - -"Fenella," he said, "this is nonsense. It cannot be." - -"I'm afraid it must be, father." - -"Look here, girl, when a man's angry he doesn't always mean what he -says. I never meant you were to go." - -"It's better that I should, father." - -The Governor struggled hard with his pride and said, - -"Listen. Don't make me ridiculous in the eyes of the whole island, -Fenella. I may not have acted wisely in relation to Stowell and the -advice I gave him--I see that now. But if so perhaps it was because -I was thinking less of the public service than of you. If you were a -father you would understand that. But you cannot wish to leave me. -You are my only child. I am your father, remember. What, after all, -is this man to you?" - -Fenella leaned back on her heels and her eyelids quivered for a -moment. Then she said, - -"We are told that a man must leave father and mother and cling to his -wife, and surely it's the same with a woman and her husband. Victor -is my husband, or soon will be." - -"Good Lord, what are you saying, girl?" - -"I promised myself to him, and I intend to keep my promise." - -"But he's a prisoner, and if the governing authority objects...." - -"In that case I'll wait until he is a prisoner no longer, and then -.... then I'll marry him." - -"That you never shall. Not in this island anyway. No clergyman here -will marry you to that man against my wish." - -"Then I'll go to him just the same." - -"What?" - -"Yes, I'm prepared even for that sacrifice." - -"You're mad. You're both mad--stark mad." - -Again the Governor returned to his smoking-room. After a while he -heard a hackney carriage coming up the drive to the porch, and then -old John, the watchman, lugging a trunk along the corridor. A moment -later, looking through the window, he saw Fenella, in the blue and -white costume of her Settlement (the same in which, with so much -pride, he had brought her up to the house from the pier in his big -landau), stepping into the coach. - -Then his anger and emotion together burst all bounds. He tore open -his door with the intention of countermanding Fenella's orders and -driving the hackney carriage off his grounds. But before he could -bring himself to do so he heard the door of the carriage close and -saw its wheels moving away. - -Miss Green came back to the house with her handkerchief to her eyes, -saying, - -"She was crying as if her heart would break, poor darling!" - -The Governor went slowly back to his room once more. The masterful -man, who had never known before what it was to have tears in his -eyes, was utterly broken. He had lost his daughter; he was to be a -childless man henceforward; he was to spend the rest of his life -alone. But after a while he thought of Stowell as the man who had -taken Fenella from him, and his anger rose again. - -"He wants punishment, does he? Very well, he shall have it, and -damned quick too." - -Two hours later Fenella was at Castle Rushen, in the living-room of -the new jailer and his wife. - -"I hear you want a female warder, and I've come to offer myself," she -said. - -The new jailer, who was embarrassed, stammered something about menial -labour, but Fenella was not to be gainsaid. - -"I'm a trained nurse, and have experience in managing people--will -you take me?" - -"Well .... if the Governor doesn't .... for the present, perhaps." - -"For good," said Fenella. - -Within a few minutes she was settled in her new quarters--a large, -dark, cell-like chamber, of irregular shape, with a deeply-recessed -window, a piece of cocoa-nut matting, a deal table, a chair, a -wash-stand and a truckle bed. - -Two hundred years before it had been the 'tiring room of the greatest -of her ancestors, Charlotte de la Tremouille (Countess of Derby), -when, in the absence of her husband, she held the fortress for weeks -against the siege of Cromwell's forces. - -The blood of the Stanleys was in it still. - - - - -CHAPTER FORTY-SIX - -VICTORY THROUGH DEFEAT - -A little later Stowell was brought up for trial at a special sitting -of the Court of General Gaol Delivery held in Douglas. - -"This wretched case has injured the credit of the island in England," -said the Governor to the Attorney-General. The sooner it was over -and done with the better. - -For a long half-hour before the proceedings began the courthouse was -dark with men. Indignation against Stowell had succeeded to -astonishment. Piecing things together (from Fenella's outburst in -Court to Gell's threat of personal violence against the Deemster) -people had arrived at something like the truth. The lips which a few -days before had saluted Stowell with cries of worshipful lover were -ready to break into shouts of execration. - -The scoundrel! The traitor! Poor young Gell! And then that girl -Collister was not so bad as they had thought her. - -Stowell's enemies had been crowing with satisfaction. "Well, what -did I tell you?" said Hudgeon, the advocate. And Qualtrough, M.H.K., -repeated what he had said in the smoking-room of the Keys--you had -only to give the rascal rope and he would hang himself. - -His friends were yet more deadly. Nearly all had deserted him. The -good things they had said had been forgotten. Every bad thing they -could remember was revived, as far back as his reckless days at Mount -Murray as a young man and his expulsion from King William's as a boy. -He was a man of straw. It was surprising what people had seen in -him, and astonishing that the Governor had recommended him for the -position of Deemster. - -The press had been silent, from fear of the penalties of contempt, -but the pulpit (Sunday having intervened) had been loud with -platitudes, inspired by the text, "Be sure your sin will find you -out." - -When the time came for the Judges to enter the court-house the -atmosphere was rank with evil passions and the acid odour of -perspiring people. - -Taubman was the Deemster. Although tortured by rheumatism he had -dragged himself out of bed, having scented an opportunity of gaining -favour with the Governor. - -The Governor presided, as it was his duty to do, but it was remarked -that except for one moment on taking his seat, when he looked round -at the open-mouthed spectators with an expression which seemed to -say, "What a race!" he never raised his eyes. - -It was a short trial, and rarely had there been a more irregular one. -Taubman was notorious for his legal deficiencies. In earlier days -Stowell, in one of his "Limericks," had christened him "Old -Necessity," because "necessity knew no law." He had long been -jealous of Stowell's popularity and particularly of his rapid rise to -a position which he had had to wait forty years for. Now he had the -"upstart" in his hand at last. - -When the case was called Stowell was brought up by two policemen and -placed in the dock. His cheeks were very pale and his eyes heavy as -with unshed tears. It was almost as if his youth had stepped with -one stride into age. But suffering gives a certain sublimity, and it -was said afterwards that never before had he looked so strong and -noble. - -The spectators saw nothing of that now. His calm seemed to them to -be callousness. He did not appear to see the scorching glances they -cast at him. The last time they had seen him in Court he was on the -bench, now he was in the dock, and they would have been better -pleased if, in the dread certainty of his fate, he had betrayed the -fellness of terror. But except for one moment, when he turned slowly -round to look at them, and their murmurs ceased suddenly at full -sight of his face, he seemed to them to have forgotten the shame of -the place he stood in. - -Taubman, in a rasping voice, read out the charge to the prisoner and -called on him to plead. - -"How say you, are you Guilty or Not Guilty?" - -"Guilty," said Stowell in a clear voice, and then, after a moment of -merciless silence, there was a deep drawing of breath. - -"Had you any accomplices?" - -"None." - -"Humph! And what was your motive in committing this crime?" - -Again there was a moment of merciless silence, and then Stowell, -speaking very slowly, said, - -"I had seduced the prisoner and was therefore the first cause of her -crime." - -Ah! There was another long indrawing of breath among the spectators. -It was a wonder the man didn't fall dead with shame! - -"And what, if you please, was your reason for making this confession?" - -"I could not allow an innocent person to suffer for my crime." - -"Was that your only reason?" - -The silence became breathless. After a pause Stowell said, in a low -voice, - -"That is a question I will answer to a higher tribunal." - -"Indeed!" said Taubman, with a sneer, and then the silence was broken -by a cowardly titter which passed through the court-house. - -The Attorney-General rose to summarise the facts. His face was white -and decomposed; his thin hair was disordered, and the linen slip -under his chin was awry. - -Only once before since leaving Government House had he been out of -doors--to visit Stowell at the Police-station and receive the letter -which had been found on him. He, too, had dragged himself from bed -to come to Court, being afraid to leave the prosecution of the son of -his old friend, the boy brought up in his own office, to the Deputy -whom the Governor was sure to appoint in his place--Hudgeon, who sat -by his side. - -His speech did not please either the Court or the spectators. It -gave the impression of being a plea for the prisoner. And indeed -there were moments when the Attorney seemed to forget that he was -there to prosecute. - -Speaking in a tremulous voice, and never once looking towards the -dock, he said it would seem incredible that anyone in the position of -the accused could be guilty of the crime with which he was charged. -But the lucidity of his confession, and its correspondence to the -facts as they knew them, made it inconceivable that he had told a -lie. There could be no doubt he was guilty, and being so he came -under the condemnation of the law. - -"Ha!" - -"But," said the old man, flashing his moist eyes on the glistening -eyes behind him, "the Crown stands for Justice, not revenge." - -The Court would remember that the prisoner had made a voluntary -confession, that nothing would have been known of his crime if he had -not of himself disclosed it, and before the sublime spectacle of a -man who was making the only reparation in his power to the Justice he -had sullied, it would be touched by the fire of a great renunciation. - -A murmur of dissent passed through the court-house. - -Again, the Court would remember that the prisoner had confessed to -the secret sin which had tempted him to his crime. If he had been a -scoundrel he could have concealed it, but he had put conscience -before liberty, before reputation, perhaps before life. - -"Oh!" - -Once more the Court would remember that the prisoner had surrendered -to Justice because another was in danger of arrest, and it would not -be human if it were not moved by the sight of a man giving himself up -to the law so that an innocent man might not suffer in his stead. - -Finally, the Court would remember the youth of the prisoner, his -undoubted talents, his brilliant promise, his high position, and the -revered memory of his father, and if, moved by these considerations, -it decided to impose a nominal penalty, the Crown would be satisfied. - -"Ah!" - -"But whatever the punishment the Court thinks fit to impose on the -prisoner," said the Attorney, "it can be as nothing to that which he -has inflicted upon himself. Never in this island has there been so -great a downfall, and rarely can suffering for sin have been more -terrible since the Veil of the Temple was rent in twain and darkness -covered the land." - -It was impossible for the spectators not to be hushed to awe by the -daring words and quivering tones with which the old Attorney closed -his speech, but Taubman, in the ferocity of his malice, was unmoved. - -"Humph!" he said. "All that means, I suppose, that a man may be -innocent and guilty at the same time." - -And then another cowardly titter ran through the court-house. - -The time had come for judgment. Taubman leaned over the bench, -clasped his bony fingers in front of him, and said, - -"Victor Stowell, stand up." - -Stowell rose, and stood with his hands interlaced, and his heavy eyes -fixed steadfastly on his Judge. - -"Have you anything to say why judgment should not be pronounced upon -you?" - -"Nothing." - -It needs no skill to wound the defenceless, and for the next few -minutes Taubman seemed to glory in the exercise of his power. - -"Prisoner at the bar," he said, "you have confessed to the crime of -breaking prison to effect the escape from custody of a young woman -you had first debauched and then abandoned." - -"Ha!" - -"It has been said on your behalf (strangely enough by the public -servant whose duty it was to arraign you) that your confession was -voluntary. Nothing of the kind. It was made when the hand of the -law was upon you, when the warrant for the arrest of an innocent man -was about to be issued, and you were face to face with the certainty -of exposure and punishment." - -"Ha!" - -"It has been also been said that the confession of your private sin -shows the operation of your conscience. But your conscience would -have been better employed when you sat in judgment on your own -victim--a deliberate offence that is probably without precedent in -the history of criminal jurisprudence. - -"Finally it has been argued that your high position and family -connections ought to mitigate your punishment. On the contrary, they -ought to increase it, as showing your disregard of your -responsibilities, and especially your ingratitude to the head of the -judiciary, his Excellency" (here Taubman bowed to the Governor), -"whose favours you have so ill requited." - -"Ah!" - -"Your crime is clear. It is without a particle of justification. -You have disgraced your name, your profession, and your island. -Therefore the Court can only mark its sense of the enormity of your -offence by inflicting the maximum penalty prescribed by the law--two -years' imprisonment in Castle Rushen." - -Hardly had the last words been spoken when the spectators broke into -frenzied shouts of approval. Neither the police nor the Judge made -any attempt to repress them. The Governor rose hastily and hurried -off the bench, and Taubman, gathering up his papers, his spectacles -and his two walking-sticks, hobbled after him. - -The shouting went on. It surged about Stowell as he stepped out of -the dock and passed with slow stride through the door that led down -to the prison. The deadened sound of it followed him while he -descended the stairs, and when he reached the cell it mingled with -yet wilder shouting from the streets, where a tumultuous crowd had -been waiting for the verdict. The delight of the mob seemed -delirious. Some women from the meaner streets by the quay were -dancing on the pavement. - -Meantime, in his robing-room with the Governor, Taubman was -congratulating himself on his travesty of Justice. Taking his wig -off his stubbly grey hair he said, - -"I think I gave my gentleman his deserts for his bad treatment of -your Excellency. Eh? What?" - -And then the Governor spoke for the first time that day. - -"Maybe so," he said, "but all the same you are not fit to wipe his -boots, Sir." - - - -II - -Early next morning Stowell was removed to Castle Rushen. - -There was a rumour (probably inspired by the police) that he would -travel by the seven o'clock train, therefore at half-past six the -railway station and its approaches were full of a noisy crowd. But -at ten minutes to seven the prison van, drawn by two horses, drew up -at the back door under the court-house and Stowell was hustled into -it. - -"Come, get in, quick," said the Chief Constable (all his former -deference gone), and then the van rolled away, Stowell being shut up -in the windowless compartment within, while the Chief Constable and -his Inspector of Police occupied the outer one with the grill. - -Crossing a swing-bridge which spanned the top of the harbour, they -climbed the lane to the Head until they reached the cliff road, and -had the town behind them under a veil of morning mist, and the open -sea in front. There had been wind overnight, and a fiery sun was -blazing out of a fierce sky like the red light from the open door of -a furnace. - -Stowell, in his dark compartment, had not yet asked himself which way -he was going. The feeling of exaltation, of doing a divinely -appointed duty, which had buoyed him up during the trial, was now -gone. The nullity of his past life, the hopelessness of the future -had left him with the sense of being already a dead man. Two years -inside the blind walls of the Castle Rushen, while the sun shone and -the flowers grew and the birds sang outside, and the world went on -without him--how could he live through it? - -At length, having a sense of physical as well as spiritual -suffocation, he tapped timidly at his door, and asked, when it was -opened, if it might remain so for a few moments that he might have a -breath of air. - -"Certainly not," said the Chief Constable, and he clashed the door -back. - -"Better so," thought Stowell. - -He had caught a glimpse of the scene outside, and knew where they -were--on the rocky shelf along which he had driven with Fenella after -the oath-taking at Castletown. - -The memory of that day came back to him like a stab. He could feel -Fenella's warm presence by his side; he could see her gleaming eyes; -he could hear her rich contralto voice as they sang together above -the boom of the sea below and the cry of the sea-fowl overhead: - - "_Love is the Queen for you and for me, - Salve, Salve Regina!_" - - -What memories! What regrets! Only now did he know how necessary -Fenella had been to him--only now when he had lost her. He felt like -a dead man--dead, yet doomed to remember his former existence. - -An hour and a half passed. Stowell sat huddled up in the close -atmosphere of the van, with the thunderous rumble of the roof above -him and the crack of the driver's whip outside. He knew every mile -of the way. When the van swung round at a turn of the road, or the -horses slowed down at the foot of a hill, the memory of some moment -in his drive with Fenella came back to him, and he told himself how -far they had still to go. - -At length they were entering Castletown. He knew that by the hollow -sound under the horses' hoofs as they crossed the bridge over the -harbour--the bridge from which Fenella had looked back and waved her -hand to the crowd about the Castle gate who had raised the deafening -shout--"Long live the new Deemster, hip, hip, hip!" - -Groaning audibly, digging with his fingernails deep trenches in his -palms, praying for strength of spirit, he waited for the ordeal which -he felt was before him. - - -Another crowd had gathered about the Castle gate that morning. - -Telegrams had been received from Douglas saying that Stowell was -travelling by road, so half the people of Castletown had come down to -the quay as to a funeral to see the last of the condemned man before -he was buried in his living tomb. - -They were of two classes. The larger and noisier class consisted of -raw youths and young men to whom the trial of the Deemster had been -mainly a subject for lewd jests about Bessie Collister. - -One of them, with the small eyes of a sow and the thick lips of a -cod, wore a butcher's apron and a steel attached to a belt about his -waist. This was John Qualtrough (son of Cæsar), the lusty ruffian -whose skull had been cracked in his boyhood by the blow from the -stick which had been intended for Alick Gell. - -The Castle walls were low by the gate, and off the shoulders of a -comrade Qualtrough clambered to a seat on the battlements. From that -elevation he beguiled the time of waiting by conducting a chorus of -his companions on the ground, using his steel for baton. He selected -the crudest of the old Manx ditties, and amid shrieks of laughter, he -emphasised the doubtful lines by frequent repetition. - - "_I'm not engaged to any young man I solemnly do swear, - For I mane to be a vargin and still the laurels wear. - For I mane to be a vargin and still the laurels wear._" - - -The other class, consisting chiefly of women, demure and severe, -occupied themselves with serious talk about Fenella. That splendid -young woman! It was shocking the way Sto'll had treated her--worse -than the other in a manner of speaking. - -"They're telling me she wasn't at the trial in Douglas yesterday." - -"What wonder if she wasn't, poor thing! I wouldn't trust but she'll -never show her face in public again." - -"It's no use talking, the man has brought shame on the lot of us and -is a disgrace to the name of a Manxman." - -Suddenly, over the loud clamour there came a wild shout from the -battlements. - -"Here he is!" - -The prison van was seen to cross the bridge, and as it came up to the -gate, it was received with a howl of execration. - -Stowell heard it. In his dark compartment the surging of the crowd -around the outside of the van was like the breaking of a tidal wave -on a sleeping town in the middle of the night. The van stopped with -a sickening jolt, and he heard the Inspector of Police crying, - -"Stand back! Make way!" - -Then there was a flash of daylight and the voice of the Chief -Constable saying peremptorily, - -"Come, get out! Be quick about it." - -At the next moment he was on the ground with a roar of hoarse voices -and a rush of contorted faces around him. There were screams of lewd -laughter and yells of merciless derision. Arms were raised as if to -strike him. He felt himself being pushed and pulled by the police -through the open gate and up the passage way to the Portcullis. - -The crowd, not yet appeased, tried to force their way past the jailer -and his turnkeys as if to lynch him. But they were checked by an -unexpected sight. A young woman, in the costume of a nurse, with -heaving breast, quivering nostrils, and flaming eyes, rushed through -the gate with outstretched arms to stop them. - -They recognised her instantly, but it was not that alone that cowed -them. There is something in a brave act which pierces the noisiest -crowd to the core of its cruel soul. Certainly this crowd fell back -and its uproar died down. - -Then in a voice which vibrated with contempt and scorn, Fenella tried -to speak to them. - -"You .... you .... you...." she began, but further words would not -come, and returning to the Castle she clashed its iron-studded gate -in the people's faces. - -The crowd broke up rapidly and slank away, subdued and ashamed. - -"Morning, men!" - -"Morning!" - -Within two minutes nearly all were gone. The open space in front of -the Castle gate was empty, save for two old women with little black -shawls over their heads, who were wiping their eyes on their cotton -aprons. - -"Did thou see that, Bella?" - -"'Deed I did, though." - -"I belave in my heart it was the girl herself--the one they say he -has done so bad to." - -"Aw well, if a woman isn't willing to stand up for her man, whatever -he has done, what _is_ she anyway?" - - - - -CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN - -THE RESURRECTION - -Three days later, Fenella set out for Bishop's Court in a two-horse -landau. - -The island had begun to recover from its fit of moral intoxication. -Sympathy was swinging round to Stowell. The pathos of his stupendous -downfall had taken hold of the people. Taubman had been wrong. -Nobody would have known anything of Stowell's guilt if he had not -revealed it himself. There must be something great in a man who -could take up his cross like that. And as for that wonderful woman -who might be living in Government House but was living in Castle -Rushen instead.... - -As Fenella, in her nurse's costume, drove through the town some of -the women curtsied to her, and most of the men raised their hats. -She returned the salutations of none. - -"So that's how they expect to wipe out what they did to Victor! Not -if I know it though!" - -Two hours afterwards she was at the Bishop's palace--a somewhat -palatial place, partly old, partly new, sleeping in the shelter of -big trees and surrounded by a blaze of rhododendrons. - -The Bishop, in his dapper black clothes, received her in a room in -the old part of the house. It had been the study of the most famous -of his predecessors, the fanatic and saint who had ordered that Kate -Kinrade, for the saving of her soul, should be dragged at the tail of -a boat. Souvenirs of the dead Bishop were on the walls and -tables--his portrait, his Bible, his short crozier, his tasselled -staff, and his horn-rimmed spectacles. - -The living Bishop was suave and voluble. He congratulated Fenella on -looking so well after so much trouble. - -"Such a calamity! I might almost say such a tragedy! How the island -will miss him!" - -He agreed with the Attorney-General. Stowell's act had been one of -renunciation. When a man had sinned against God, and violated the -world's law, he set a great example by submitting to authority. - -"God forbid that I should excuse his crime, but already his -renunciation is having a good effect throughout the island. The -rioting is over. The soldiers are being sent back, and as for the -agitators nobody listens to them any longer. Only this morning the -man Baldromma...." - -Fenella, who had been beating her foot impatiently on the carpet, at -length broke into her own business. - -"Bishop, you have heard that I have gone to the Castle as female -warder?" - -"Yes, indeed. It's so nice of you to stay by the poor man's side -while he is in prison, to see that his bodily comforts are being -cared for." - -"But more than that will have to be done for him if his soul is to be -kept alive," said Fenella. - -"Really? If you think there is anything _I_ can do...." - -"There is, Sir .... You know that I was to have married Mr. Stowell?" - -"Indeed I do. Wasn't the marriage to have taken place before very -long in our chapel at Bishop's Court?" - -"Well, I want it to take place now. Only it must be in the Chapel at -Castle Rushen instead." - -"You mean .... the prison Chapel?" - -"Yes." - -For a moment the Bishop was speechless. Then recovering from his -astonishment, he rose and stepped to the hearthrug, and standing with -his back to the fire, he said, as if addressing an assembly, - -"Beautiful and noble, dear lady! To be ready to become the wife of -the fallen man just when the whole world is hissing at him in chorus, -to inspire him day by day with the hope of a great resurrection, of -taking up manful work anew, of regaining all he has lost and -more--yes, it is beautiful and noble." - -"Then you will be willing to marry us, Sir?" said Fenella. - -The Bishop hesitated, and then asked Fenella what view the Governor -took of her intention. - -"He disapproves of it altogether, and says no clergyman in the island -can marry us without incurring his displeasure." - -"Ah!" - -"But I have always understood that the Bishop is a baron in his own -right and therefore independent of the Governor." - -"True! That's true! Still...." - -The river of rhetoric had suddenly stopped. - -"Well?" - -"Mr. Stowell is a prisoner. Why marry when you can't live together? -Why not wait until he is at liberty?" - -"Because he may be dead of despair before the time for that comes," -said Fenella, "and the resurrection you speak of may never take -place. His heart is breaking. He wants something to live for now. -He wants me." - -Her eyes had filled and the Bishop had to turn his own away. At -length he said, stammering painfully, that he was sorry, very sorry, -but having to live at peace with the Governor.... - -Fenella leapt to her feet. - -"Bishop," she said, "the chaplain at Castletown is a poor man with -five young children and his living is in the gift of the Governor. -But if I can find any other clergyman who is willing to perform the -ceremony, will you permit him to do so?" - -"Ye--s .... that is to say, if you tell him what you have told me, -and he is prepared to take the risk." - -Within two minutes more Fenella was back in her landau, driving -towards Ballamoar across the Curragh roads, with their warm and rooty -odour of the bog. - -Janet came running out of the house to meet her, and in a flash they -were crying in each other's arms. But, to Fenella's surprise, there -was a look of joy in Janet's face, and on stepping into the house she -found an explanation. An army of maidservants were in every room, -with an arsenal of brushes and mops and pails. - -"Why, Janet, what are you doing?" - -"Getting ready for my boy coming back, that's what I'm doing." - -"But, dear heart, don't you know...." - -"Certainly I know. But do you think they can keep a Ballamoar in -yonder place long? 'Deed they can't. He'll be coming out soon, and -then those dirts of Manx ones who have been making such a mouth will -be the first to run to meet him." - -It would have been cruel to gainsay her, therefore Fenella described -the object of her journey, told of her father's threat and the -Bishop's excuses. - -"So now I'm looking for a clergyman who will be brave enough to marry -us," she said. - -They were in the dining-room, and through the glass door to the -piazza they could see, on the edge of the cliffs, a field's space -from the church, a lonely house without a tree or a bush about it, -looking as if it had been slashed by the rain and winds of a hundred -winters. It was the Jurby parsonage--the home of Parson Cowley. -Janet pointed to it and said, - -"Have you been _there_?" - -At that question Fenella remembered a story her father had told her -about something splendid that Victor had done, before she returned to -the island, to save the drunken parson of Jurby in the eyes of the -parishioners. In another minute she was back in her carriage. - -"Good-bye, child, and God bless you!" said Janet by the carriage -door. "And don't forget to tell my boy that Mother will be lighting -the fire in the Deemster's room every night of life for him." - -The parsonage looked yet more desolate at a nearer view than at a -distance. Sea-fowl were screaming in the sky above it and the earth -was quaking from the measured beat of the waves against the cliffs -below. A patch of garden in front was rank with long grass, and the -salt breath of the sea had encrusted the glass of the windows with a -grey scale that was like the mould on a dead face. - -The door was opened by a timid, elderly woman, the parson's wife, who -was her own servant and looked as if all the pride of life had been -crushed out of her. - -"Please come in, miss," she said. And when the door had been closed -from the inside and she was taking Fenella into the study, she called -at the foot of the stairs, - -"John, a young lady to see you." - -The dingy little room looked like an epitome of the life of the man -who lived in it. Everything was faded and worn out--books in torn -bindings on bulging shelves against the walls; a threadbare carpet -trodden thin by the fender; a handful of earthen fire; an arm-chair -upholstered in horsehair and sunk in the seat as if the springs had -broken; a table laden with loose papers and sprinkled with shreds of -tobacco, which seemed to have fallen from a shaking hand; and behind -a mirror, from which half the silvering was worn away, two objects on -the mantelpiece--a drinking glass, which had obviously contained a -frothy liquor and a photograph in a mourning frame of a young man in -sailor's costume with the fell stamp of consumption in his eyes and -cheeks. - -After a moment there was an unsteady step on the stairs and the -parson came into the room, wearing a faded skull cap and a -dressing-gown much patched and stained. - -Fenella told him her story, as she had told it to the Bishop, and -then said, - -"So I've come to ask if you dare run the risk of marrying us?" - -The old parson, who had been listening intently, seemed eager to -reply, but something checked him, and looking across at his wife, who -continued to stand timidly by the door, he said, - -"What do you say, Sarah?" - -The old lady did not reply immediately, and pointing to the -photograph on the mantelpiece the parson said, - -"If it had been John James's case, eh?" - -"Do as you think best, John." - -"Then I'll do it! Certainly I'll do it! What do I care what the -Governor may do to me? Once a priest always a priest--he can't take -_that_ from me anyway." - -It was just the chance he had been waiting for. Victor Stowell had -done something for him, and before he died he wanted to do something -for Victor Stowell. - -"I will too! I'll give him a good wife and that's the best thing a -man gets in this world anyway. I've been publishing your banns too. -Do you know I'd been publishing your banns these three Sunday -mornings, Victor Stowell being one of my parishioners?" - -Fenella, who was feeling a tightness in the throat, contrived to say, - -"Then perhaps you'll drive back with me to Castletown and celebrate -the service to-morrow?" - -"Why shouldn't I?" said the parson, and off he went upstairs (with a -firm step this time) to put on his clerical clothes and pack his -surplice in a hand-bag. - -While his quick footsteps were shaking the ceiling above them the two -women stood together in the study, the young one and the old one, -face to face. - -"It is very good of you, Mrs. Cowley, to take this risk with your -husband," said Fenella. - -"But isn't that what we women have all got to do?" said Mrs. Cowley. - -And then Fenella, unable to say more, put her arms about the timid -old thing, who had submerged her own life in the wrecked life of her -husband, and kissed her. - - - -II - -Stowell had been four days in prison and his depression had deepened -to despair. The sense of being buried alive was crushing. Even when -he was taken into the court-yard for exercise, and the white birds -sailed through the blue sky, he had the sensation of being in a -roofless tomb. - -Yet he did not spare himself. He had a right to certain indulgences, -but asked for none. They put him into an upstairs room, which had -once been the armoury of the Castle, but he said, "Put me in the cell -that was occupied by Bessie Collister." - -He might have continued to wear his own clothes, but said, - -"Give me the same clothes as any other prisoner"--a rough tweed, -uncombed and undyed, just as it had come from the back of the sheep. - -The silence was terrible. The first night was calm, and the only -sound that reached him through the thick walls was the monotonous -wash of the waves on the shore, which lay empty and alone under the -dark sky. - -Next morning he heard the clamour of the gulls, and knew that the -boats had come in from their night's fishing and the birds were -fighting for the refuse thrown overboard. A little later he heard -the deadened sound of hammering at a distance--they were caulking the -deck of a new vessel in the shipyard across the bay. The world was -going on as usual, yet there he was in a silence like that of the -grave. - -"Don't people sometimes go mad in a place like this?" he asked the -jailer. - -On the second night the sea was loud, but over the wailing of the -waves he heard a raucous voice outside. It was the voice of Dan -Baldromma, who, ranging round the Castle walls like an evil spirit, -was calling up his taunting message at every lancet window, not -knowing which was the window of Stowell's cell. - -"The Spaker is dead the day. That's the way they go, the big ones -that rob the people. But there's no pocket in the shroud, -Dempster--no pocket in the shroud." - -On the morning of the third day Stowell received a letter from -London, telling him that His Majesty the King had withdrawn his -commission, having no longer any use for his services. This smote -him like a blow on the brain. It was an abject degradation, like -that of an officer being stripped of his decorations before the eyes -of the soldiers who had served under him. - -But the worst of his pains were his thoughts about Fenella. Like a -man suddenly struck blind he was always living over again the scenes -of his past life. Sitting on his bed, with his head in his hands and -his eyes tightly closed, all the beautiful moments of their love -passed in procession before him, from the moment in the glen when he -had picked her up in his quivering arms and carried her across the -stream, to that parting in the porch at Government House, after she -had promised to marry him, and he had seized her about the waist and -fastened his lips to her mouth. - -Do what he would, he could not resist the intoxication of these cruel -memories. But crueller still were his dreams of the future--the dead -dreams of their married love, when she would be wholly his, the -beautiful body as well as the beautiful soul. Nothing in the world -was to have been so lovely as her bare arms about his neck; nothing -so thrilling as the throbbing of her breasts when he told her how -much he loved her. But when he opened his eyes and saw the blank -walls of his cell about him, he felt as if some devil from hell had -been tormenting him. - -Was this to be his greatest punishment--that what he had lost in -Fenella was to be for ever haunting him? Was he never to be left in -peace, now that all hope of her was gone from him for ever? - -"Better die," he thought. "A thousand times better." - -Several times every day the jailer had been in to talk with him. The -prison was nearly full of prisoners now, many of the rioters having -been arrested ("Not the ring-leaders, they are always too cunning"), -so that his turnkeys and lady warder had as much as they could do to -keep things going. - -This, through the thick haze of his preoccupied mind, brought back to -Stowell's memory a glimpse he had got of a woman in nurse's costume -who had flashed past him when he was being hustled through that -furnace of wrathful faces at the Castle gate, and he asked who she -had been. - -"Oh, that .... _that's_ our lady warder," said the jailer. - -"Is Mrs. Mylrea better then?" - -"No, she's dead. We have another one now, Sir." - -"Who is she?" - -The jailer hesitated and then said, "Don't you know, your Honour?" - -Stowell looked up quickly and a stifling recollection of Fenella's -last words ("If you have to go to prison, I will follow you") came -surging back on him. - -"Is it .... is it .... _she_?" he faltered. - -"Yes." - -That night, when Stowell's supper was brought to him, he sent it away -untouched. But the morning broke fair on his sleepless eyes, for he -had made up his mind what to do. - -A pale ray of reflected sunshine from the eastern wall of the -court-house was on the upper part of his cell, and he could hear the -voices of children who were playing on the shore. - -He asked for a candle, pen and ink and paper, and sat down to write a -letter. - - - "My DEAR FENELLA,--They have told me what you have done and I - cannot bear to think of it. When it became necessary to do what - I did, I knew I should have to give up all hope of you, and since - doing so I have suffered as few men can ever have suffered - before. But if you remain in this place I shall never know - another hour's sleep by night or rest by day. I shall feel that - in surrendering to Justice I was not really doing a courageous - act, as perhaps I thought, but a cowardly one, because I was - throwing half the burden of my sins on to you, who are innocent - of any of them. That thought would break my heart." - - -He paused. The sea outside was singing on the shore; the children -were laughing at their play. - - - "Fenella, at this last moment I must tell you something. Ever - since I came to care for you, it has been the dearest wish of my - heart that, God helping me, I should make your life a happy - one--that, whatever happened to me, in a world so full of cloud - and shadow, you should live in the sunshine. And now that you - follow me here, to this prison, this tomb .... it is too much. I - cannot bear it. - - "Go home, dear. Good-bye and God bless you! Don't let me regret - the impulse that brought me here. If it was right and true I - must bear my punishment alone. Leave me the comfort of thinking - that at least your outer life goes on as if I had never shattered - it. We have had many happy hours together, but they are over. - Life is for ever closed against me. You can do nothing for me - now. It was sweet and good of you to come to this place, and I - feel as if I could give my heart's blood for one more look into - your dear face, but...." - - -He had written thus far when the key rattled in the lock of his cell. -The door opened and there was a flash of the jailer's lantern. -Instinctively, without looking up, Stowell covered his letter in his -blotting-paper and busied himself with both for a moment. When he -raised his eyes the lantern was on the table, but the jailer was gone -and somebody else was standing before him. - -It was Fenella. She was in wedding dress, with the veil thrown back, -looking more lovely than in the most delirious of his dreams. At -first he thought it was a phantom, born of the preoccupation of his -tortured brain, and in a hushed whisper, trembling all over and -rising from his chair, he said, - -"Fenella!" - -She, too, was trembling, but she put on a brave air and even a little -of her gay raillery. - -"Yes, it is Fenella. She has come, as she said she would, you know." - -"But _why_ have you come?" - -"Why? Don't you know what day this is, Victor? This was to have -been our wedding-day. It shall be, too." - -"Do you mean it?" - -"Look at me. Do you think I have dressed up like this for nothing?" - -"But don't you see it is impossible?" - -"Impossible? Don't you want me any longer then? You promised to -marry me, Sir--are you going to break your promise?" - -She was laughing, but trying at the same time not to cry. Stowell's -voice grew thick and husky. - -"Go home to your father's house, Fenella. That is the only place for -you." - -"But my father has turned me out, so if you send me away also I -shan't have a roof to cover me." - -"Is that true?" - -She tried to laugh again with her old gaiety. - -"Well .... nearly." - -"You cannot live in a place like this, Fenella." - -"Why not? I have the apartments of a Queen, and what was good enough -for her will be good enough for me, surely." - -"But you forget--I am a prisoner, and if the Governor objects...." - -"He doesn't. He has been told and has raised no objection." - -"But there isn't a clergyman in the island who would marry a woman -like you to a man like me." - -"Oh yes, there's one, and I have brought him with me." - -"Who...." - -"Somebody you did a beautiful thing for long ago, and who new wants -to do something for you--for me, I mean. Come in, Parson Cowley." - -Then Stowell saw that the door was open and that Parson Cowley was -standing in the darkness beyond it. The old parson came into the -cell at Fenella's call, sober as a Judge, but with his face more -broken up by emotion than it had ever been by drink, for he had heard -everything. - -"Parson Cowley," said Stowell, in a hoarse voice, "show her it is -impossible." - -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." - -He raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes were glistening, her -lips were trembling, never before had she seemed to him so beautiful. -Feeling himself weakening he rose and turned away. - -"I should never forgive myself, Fenella, if I allowed you to make -this sacrifice." - -"What sacrifice? Everything I want in the world is within these -walls." - -"Don't tempt me, Fenella. Go away, I beg of you." - -"Victor, I am for you. You are for me. Do you want to rob me of the -only man in the world for me?" - -His heart was beating fast. - -"Go away, I tell you. I cannot trust myself any longer." - -But the more he commanded her to go, the more her eyes glistened with -a look of triumph. - -"If I am to go out of this place, you'll have to carry me out," she -said, "just as you carried me across the river in the glen." - -He gasped, and then flung out at her in a torrent of words. - -"Why do you come like this? Is it only to torture me with the -thought of what might have been? Haven't I done enough wrong to you -already? If I do this wrong also I shall hate myself. And the end -of that will be that I shall come to hate you also. I do hate you. -Go away! For God's sake go!" - -Fenella, with gleaming eyes, took one step closer. - -"Victor," she said, "you love me. You know you do. You have never -loved any other woman in the world--never for one single moment." - -He looked back at her again. Her arms were stretched out to him; her -bosom was heaving; her lips were quivering and apart. He could -struggle no longer. - -"Fenella!" - -"Victor!" - -She had conquered. They were clasped in each other's arms. - - - -III - -Half-an-hour afterwards they were married in the prison chapel. The -little place was naked enough now. No flowers, no flags, no carpets, -no cushions. Only the two rows of forms, without backs, and the -placards on the whitewashed walls at either side--"FOR MEN" and "FOR -WOMEN." - -The deal table which served for altar was covered by a kitchen -table-cloth, on which nothing stood but a plain brass cross and a -couple of lighted candles in kitchen candlesticks. - -Parson Cowley, in his surplice, stood in front of it, with his -well-thumbed prayer-book in his trembling hands. The two who were -being married were kneeling at his feet--the sin-soiled man and the -daughter of a line of old Manx Kings, bearing a name that had been -written high in English history for five hundred years. The jailer -and his wife were standing somewhere in the shadows. There was no -sound except that of the parson's quavering voice within and the low -rumble of the sea outside. - - - "_I require and charge you, as ye will answer at the dreadful day - of Judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, - that if either of you know of any impediment why ye may not be - lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it._" - - -Stowell made a stifled sound as of protest. Fenella put down her -hand and took his hand and held it. - - - "_Victor Christian, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded - wife?_" - - -There was a sensible pause, and Parson Cowley leaned down to Stowell -and whispered, - -"Say 'I will,' my son." - -Then came a slow, half-smothered murmur, - -"I .... will." - - - "_Fenella Charlotte de la Tremouille, wilt thou have this Man to - thy wedded husband?_" - - -In a clear, unfaltering voice Fenella answered, - -"I will." - -* * * * * * * - -It was all over. The parson and the jailer and his wife were gone. -Stowell and Fenella were alone together in the prison chapel, locked -in a passionate embrace. The kitchen candles were burning out, but -the little dark place shone with glory. The air was stirred as with -the presence of angels and lit as by a celestial torch. - -In their immense happiness every trouble of life seemed to be gone. -Two years? It would be like two months, two weeks, two days--it -would be like a walk in the sunshine. - -"We must hold together now, dear." - -"Yes, until death parts us." - -Their hearts swelled with gratitude. Love had taken the sting out of -suffering--Love, the saviour, the redeemer. A great hymn of -thanksgiving was going up from body and from soul. - -They talked of the future. - -"Will you leave the island when your time comes, dear?" - -"Indeed no, never." - -Where his sin had been there also should be his expiation. - -"How great! How glorious!" - -She cried a little, being so happy, and he had to comfort her. Oh, -mystery of the heart of woman! They had changed places again, and -now it was she who was the weak one--or pretended to be so--just to -make him feel how strong he was, being the man, and that she would -have to look up to him all her life to guide and protect her. - -"Will you love me always, Victor?" - -"Always? As sure as God...." - -"Hush! I know you will, dearest. But being only a woman I shall -want you to tell me so every night and every morning." - -He warned her of the struggles they would have to go through yet, -even when the time came to leave that place and return to the -world--of the many who would look askance at them for his sin's sake. -But she said no, and painted for him a picture of his coming out of -prison. - -What a scene it would be! His people, his beloved countrymen and -countrywomen, who were good at heart, would be at the Castle gates to -meet him. There would be thousands and tens of thousands of them to -go back with him over the hill to Ballamoar. Carriages, cars, -spring-carts, stiff-carts, fishermen in their ganzies and lifeboatmen -in their stocking caps--such a procession across the mountains as -nobody had ever seen in that island before, his little nation taking -him home. - -"Oh, I see it all, Victor. When the time comes for you to go through -the Castle gates it will be like passing out of death into life, out -of the cloud of night into the glory of the sunrise." - -He smiled, a melancholy smile, and shook his head. - -"I have much to go through yet. You, too, Fenella." - -But well she knew that the victory had been won, that the -resurrection of his soul bad already begun, that he would rise again -on that same soil on which he had so sadly fallen, that shining like -a star before his brightening eyes was the vision of a far greater -and nobler life than the one that lay in ruins behind him, and that -she, she herself, would be always by his side--to "ring the morning -bell for him." - - - -CONCLUSION - -The herring shoal, which in the early summer comes down from Norway -to the western coast of Man, drifts eastward as the year advances, -past the Calf Island, the Sound and the Spanish Head, with their -deafening clamour of ten thousand sea-fowl, to where the big waves of -the Atlantic roll to their organ music, and the porpoises tumble -through the blue waters of the Channel on their way back to the -frozen seas. - -In the late autumn of the year of Victor Stowell's trial and -imprisonment the fishermen from Ramsey and Douglas, going south to -their fishing ground in the evening of the day, would find as they -sailed past Castletown, and opened the Poolvaish, that the sun had -set behind Castle Rushen and its square tower stood up black against -the crimsoning sky. - -Then they would go down on their knees on the decks of their boats, -just as in old days they used to do after they had shot their nets at -night, to acknowledge their Maker, and pray, in their Manx, to St. -Bridget and St. Patrick to send them safely home in the morning with -a full cargo of "the living and the dead." - -But it was not the harvest of the sea they were thinking of then. It -was of the two who lay interned within the walls of the grim -fortress--the man who had voluntarily made the great Sacrifice for -his sin, and the woman, who in the greatness of her love was living -out his punishment beside him. - -In my early manhood I used to hear old Methodist fishermen say that -when they rose from their knees, after their rough hands had been -held close over their eyes, and looked back at the Castle, they would -sometimes see a golden cross plainly outlined in the sky above it. - -Perhaps it was only another of their Manx superstitions, but it -seemed to bring a certain inspiration to their simple hearts for all -that, by reminding them of a story which resembled (very remotely and -feebly) the great one which they told each other every Sunday in -their little wayside chapels--the story of Him Who "gave the world -away and died." - - - "He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the - dead; He ascended into heaven and sitteth on the right hand of - God the Father Almighty...." - - - -THE END - - - -* * * * * * * * * * * * - - - - -THE DEEMSTER - -This is a story of sin and suffering and redemption. A young man of -great possibilities, Dan Mylrea, having his good angel and his bad -angel on either hand, commits, in a wild fit of momentary passion, a -terrible crime, is condemned (by his own father, who is the ultimate -judge) to life-long banishment and solitude, is purified and ennobled -by his solitary life and finally returns to the society of his -fellow-men as the saviour of his people. The scene is the Isle of -Man, the period the eighteenth century. This story was the first to -give Hall Caine his place among British Novelists, being commonly -compared with the work of Victor Hugo. It was published in 1887, has -since sold in vast numbers and been translated into nearly all -European languages. - -_The Scotsman_ says: "This is one of the great novels." - - - -THE CHRISTIAN - -_653,098 copies of English editions sold to date._ - -This is the story of a young Anglican clergyman, John Store, who -tries to live in the twentieth century in strict imitation of the -life of Christ (believing that in the literal interpretation of His -teaching lies the only salvation of the world) and is broken to -pieces, both from within and from without, by his love of a woman and -by the hard facts of modern existence. The scene is London, and the -period the present age. The heroine, Glory Quayle, belongs to the -number of the beloved women in fiction. On its first publication in -1897, the "CHRISTIAN" provoked world-wide discussion, in which -Tolstoy took part. It has been translated into nearly all European -languages. Nearly 700,000 copies have been sold in English editions -only. The story which has been repeatedly dramatised is played in -nearly all countries. - -The _Newcastle Chronicle_ says: "This novel is a noble inspiration -carried to noble issues, an honour to Hall Caine and to English -fiction." - - - -THE MANXMAN - -_399,426 copies of English editions sold to date._ - -This is the novel most generally associated with Hall Caine's name. -Two men, who love each other like David and Jonathan, are separated -by the love each bears for the same woman, Kate Cregeen. The one is -married to her, and by the other, in circumstances of tragic -temptation, she has been betrayed. Out of this complication comes -situations of searching pathos, culminating in a public confession -and a great renunciation. The scene throughout is the Isle of Man, -and the deeply injured husband and friend, Pete Quilliam, has become -one of the best known figures in modern fiction and on the stage. -Mr. Gladstone, who was a warm admirer of it, said, that though he -disapproved of divorce, he recognised the integrity of the author's -aim. Nearly 400,000 of the English edition has been sold already. -It is a love story of great intensity. - -_T. P. O'Connor_ says: "This is a very fine and great story--one of -the finest and greatest of our time." - - - -THE BONDMAN - -_468,327 copies of English editions sold to date._ - -This story is intended to show the futility of the spirit of -revenge--that vengeance belongs to God only. Two sons (born in -different countries) of the same father by different mothers set out -to search for each other to avenge the wrongs they have suffered -through their parents. When they meet it is as fellow-prisoners -chained together in a penal settlement, where their identity is -unknown (their names being hidden by numbers) and they become the -most passionately devoted friends. Finally one of the half brothers -gives his life for the life of the man he came to kill, and restores -him to the woman they have both loved. The scene is chiefly Iceland, -and the period the recent past. "THE BONDMAN" is one of Hall Caine's -most moving love stories. In some foreign countries, particularly -Scandinavia, it is thought to be his best. - -_The Scotsman_ says: "Hall Caine has, in this work, placed himself -beyond the front rank of the novelists of the day." - - - -THE SCAPEGOAT - -This is the story of a young and lovely girl, Naomi, who, born deaf, -dumb, and blind, recovers her senses one by one, in circumstances of -startling excitement in the life of her father, thus having the -beauty of the world revealed to her in sight, sound and speech, after -her intelligence has matured. Around this central theme a dramatic -narrative gathers of life in Morocco, under the present -half-civilised regime. _The Times_ says "the 'SCAPEGOAT' is the best -of Hall Caine's novels," and that opinion is shared by many good -judges. It has had a warm reception in foreign countries, -particularly in Germany, where it has been said that the central -character bears an affinity to Goethe's immortal Mignon. - -_The Times_: "This is the author's masterpiece." - - - -THE ETERNAL CITY - -_704,371 copies of English editions sold to date._ - -This is by much the most popular of Hall Caine's novels thus far, -more than a million copies of it having been sold in English editions -only. It is intended to show that the morality which is required of -individual men should govern nations also. The chief scene is Rome, -and the Pope (a reverent portrait resembling Pius IX) is one of the -leading characters. The story, which was first published in 1901, -anticipated the Socialistic and Communistic movement which is now -rife, not only in Italy, but throughout Europe. A socialist leader -of high character and capacity, David Rossi, makes an effort to carry -into effect the teachings of Mazzini, which he understands to be -according to the precepts of the Lord's Prayer. At the crisis of his -endeavor he is betrayed into the hands of the authorities by the -woman he loves, who is moved solely by the desire to save his life. -The perils of the communistic and anti-military movement as well as -its spiritual ideals form the background of the story, but its main -theme is love--the upraising of a woman's character under the -influence of a pure affection. The love story is the strongest -element in this greatly popular book. - -_The Methodist Times_ says: "It is an enthralling, delicious, and -most pathetic love story." - - - -THE PRODIGAL SON - -_368,925 copies of English editions sold to date._ - -This is an Iceland story, like "THE BONDMAN," but totally different -in spirit and treatment. It is a modern rendering of the Biblical -parable of the same name, with a strong appeal for the elder brother, -and it is intended to say that an evil act once done can never be -undone. Some of the incidents take place on the Riviera, the "far -country," in which the prodigal wastes his substance. When he -returns home he finds, not the "fatted calf" awaiting him, but the -wreckage caused by his conduct. "THE PRODIGAL SON" was published -simultaneously in eight foreign countries, and was even more warmly -praised abroad than at home. Nearly half a million copies of it have -been sold in the English editions. It was dramatised for Drury Lane -Theatre and produced with great success. - -_The Westminster Gazette_ says: "In truth, a work that must certainly -rank with the best in recent fiction." - - - -THE WHITE PROPHET - -This is a story of Egypt and the Soudan with its principal scenes in -Cairo and Khartoum. It was published in 1909, and anticipated by -many years some racial, political and religious problems which are -now agitating those countries. The central character resembles the -Madhi in his earlier years. At first he is a religious reformer -only, but later he developes political aims which bring him into -sharp collision with the British rule. A tragic happening enlists on -his side the son of the English Consul-General who remotely resembles -the late Lord Cromer in his policy, but not his person. Out of this -fact and the further complication of his affection for an English -woman, Helena, the author developes his love story. The glamour and -mystery of the East are the background of the novel, which is a -strong contrast to the stark simplicity of the scenes of Hall Caine's -Manx and Icelandic stories. - -_The Liverpool Post_ says: "Hall Caine's power of rivetting and -engrossing attention will be found in this novel at its zenith." - - - -THE WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME - -_Over 475,000 copies of English editions sold to date_ - -This novel, as its title indicates, is intended to illustrate the -place which, through all the ages hitherto, woman has held in -relation to man, the place assigned to her by law, custom, and even -religion. Mary O'Neill, a devout Catholic, is brought up in a -convent in Rome, and then married, before sex has awakened in her, to -a dissolute man of rank. On realising her position she rebels, and -refuses herself to her husband, but to prevent scandal, continues to -live under his roof. Later on, love is born in her, but it is for -another and much worthier man. What is she to do? In her eyes it is -sin to love anybody except her husband. And her religion forbids her -to seek her happiness through divorce. Thus she passes through a -great struggle. At length her love conquers and she flies from the -house in which she is a wife in name only. A child is born and she -goes through the still greater struggle of a mother with an -"unwanted" child. At length salvation comes to her, without the -violation of any law of state or church. The scene is chiefly -London. On first publication the "WOMAN" was much criticised for the -frankness of its treatment of a delicate subject, but the criticism -has long died down. - -_The Daily Chronicle_ says: "It strikes a great blow for -righteousness, and in that light it is Hall Caine's greatest -achievement." - - - -THE MASTER OF MAN - -As "THE WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME" was the woman's story, so "THE MASTER -OF MAN" is the man's story. Both deal with the same eternal subject. -They are the opposite facets of the same coin. The new novel is, -like "THE DEEMSTER," a story of sin, suffering and redemption. But -the story is entirely different. Victor Stowell, a young man of fine -nature, coming of a family with high traditions, commits a sin -against a woman in circumstances of extreme temptation such as come -to millions of young men in every generation. He conceals his sin, -and his concealment leads to other and still other sins, until his -whole life is wrapped up in falsehood, and even the little community -in which he lives is in danger of being submerged in the -consequences. In his sufferings he descends as into Hell, but at -length he sees that there is only one salvation for himself, his -victim and his people--confession and reparation. After he has -confessed his secret sin and paid the penalty in renunciation, he is -saved from spiritual death by the love of a noble-hearted woman who -has inspired him to the act of atonement--so the climax of the story -is the resurrection of his soul. The scene is literally the Isle of -Man, and the period the present, but the one may be said to be all -the world, and the other all time, for the subject is universal. - - - -J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS - - A SELECTION OF NEW AND OLD - BOOKS ON A VARIETY OF SUBJECTS - - -THE SONG OF SONGS. - -Being a collection of love lyrics of Ancient Palestine. - -By Morris Jastrow, Jr., Ph.D., LL.D. - -Professor Jastrow's new work is a companion volume to his GENTLE -CYNIC (The Book of Ecclesiastes) and to his BOOK OF JOB. These three -books of the Bible have been chosen by him for popular presentation, -because of their outstanding character as literary masterpieces, and -because of their human appeal. This new translation is based on a -revised text. The author also gives the origin, growth and -interpretation of the Songs. These twenty-three songs are as fresh -in their appeal to the human heart to-day as they were over two -thousand years ago,--the author has given descriptive and enticing -titles to them, such as "Love's Ecstasy," "The Saucy Damsel," "Love's -Longing," etc., etc. Frontispiece by Alexander Bida. Handsome -octavo. $2.50 - - - -SEEING THE SUNNY SOUTH - -By John T. Faris - -We are enabled in this book to appreciate the true wonders of the -South, so rich in scenic beauty, historic tradition and natural -resources. Dr. Faris gives a fascinating and vivid picture of the -marvellous country below the Mason and Dixon line. He has the gift -of being able to make the reader feel something of the real -atmosphere and human background of the country through which he -passed. Bits of history, delightful anecdotes of people and places -enliven his narrative. Frontispiece in color, and one hundred and -fifteen doubletone illustrations. Handsome octavo. $6.00 - - - -THE WHISTLER JOURNAL - -By Elizabeth Rand Joseph Pennell - -This companion work to the famous "Life" is full of the most intimate -relations of Whistler and his friends, including Rosetti, William -Morris, and many other notable personages. It presents an unusual -view from the inside of art and literary circles of London and Paris -at that time. There is much that is amusing and some that is -scandalous. The eighty unusual illustrations are a feature that will -be prized by collectors; four of them are in color. Crown octavo, -uniform with the "Life." $8.50 - -Limited de Luxe Edition. $15.00 - - - -A TALE OF A WALLED TOWN AND OTHER VERSES - -By B 8266--Penitentiary - -A volume of verse which is a real human document. 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