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diff --git a/old/61865-h/61865-h.htm b/old/61865-h/61865-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3129cb4..0000000 --- a/old/61865-h/61865-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,38720 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Master of Man, by Hall Caine</title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<style type="text/css"> - -body { color: black; - background: white; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-left: 10%; - font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; - text-align: justify } - -p {text-indent: 4% } - -p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } - -p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 200%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - text-align: center } - -p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - text-align: center } - -p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 60%; - text-align: center } - -h1 { text-align: center } -h2 { text-align: center } -h3 { text-align: center } -h4 { text-align: center } -h5 { text-align: center } - -p.poem {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; } - -p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; - letter-spacing: 4em ; - text-align: center } - -p.letter {text-indent: 4%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } - -p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -p.intro {font-size: 90% ; - text-indent: -5% ; - margin-left: 5% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.report {text-indent: 4% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.finis { font-size: larger ; - text-align: center ; - text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Master of Man, by Hall Caine</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Master of Man<br /> -The Story of a Sin</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Hall Caine</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 18, 2020 [eBook #61865]<br /> -[Most recently updated: April 13, 2021]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Al Haines</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASTER OF MAN ***</div> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <i>The Novels of Hall Caine</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - THE SHADOW OF A CRIME<br /> - A SON OF HAGAR<br /> - THE DEEMSTER<br /> - THE BONDMAN<br /> - THE SCAPEGOAT<br /> - THE MANXMAN<br /> - THE CHRISTIAN<br /> - THE ETERNAL CITY<br /> - THE WHITE PROPHET<br /> - THE PRODIGAL SON<br /> - THE WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME<br /> - THE MASTER OF MAN<br /> -</p> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - The Master of Man<br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t3b"> - The Story of a Sin<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - By<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - Hall Caine<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - "<i>Be sure your sin will find you out</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - Philadelphia & London<br /> - J. B. Lippincott Company<br /> - 1921<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> - The Master of Man<br /> - <i>is published also in</i><br /> - ENGLAND<br /> - CANADA<br /> - AUSTRALIA<br /> - FRANCE<br /> - DENMARK<br /> - HOLLAND<br /> - SWEDEN<br /> - FINLAND<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - COPYRIGHT, 1920, 1921, BY SIR HALL CAINE, K.B.E.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - <i>Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company<br /> - The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U.S.A.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - CONTENTS<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - FIRST BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap0101">THE SIN</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - 1. <a href="#chap0101">The Breed of the Ballamoar</a><br /> - 2. <a href="#chap0102">The Boyhood of Victor Stowell</a><br /> - 3. <a href="#chap0103">Father and Sons</a><br /> - 4. <a href="#chap0104">Enter Fenella Stanley</a><br /> - 5. <a href="#chap0105">The Student-at-Law</a><br /> - 6. <a href="#chap0106">The World of Woman</a><br /> - 7. <a href="#chap0107">The Day of Temptation</a><br /> - 8. <a href="#chap0108">The Call of Bessie Collister</a><br /> - 9. <a href="#chap0109">The Master of Man</a><br /> - 10. <a href="#chap0110">The Call of the Ballamoars</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - SECOND BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap0211">THE RECKONING</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - 11. <a href="#chap0211">The Return of Fenella</a><br /> - 12. <a href="#chap0212">The Death of the Deemster</a><br /> - 13. <a href="#chap0213">The Saving of Kate Kinrade</a><br /> - 14. <a href="#chap0214">The Everlasting Song of the Sea</a><br /> - 15. <a href="#chap0215">The Woman's Secret</a><br /> - 16. <a href="#chap0216">At the Speaker's</a><br /> - 17. <a href="#chap0217">The Burning Boat</a><br /> - 18. <a href="#chap0218">The Great Winter</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - THIRD BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap0319">THE CONSEQUENCE</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - 19. <a href="#chap0319">The Eve of Mary</a><br /> - 20. <a href="#chap0320">Victor Stowell's Vow</a><br /> - 21. <a href="#chap0321">Mother's Law or Judge's Law?</a><br /> - 22. <a href="#chap0322">The Soul of Hagar</a><br /> - 23. <a href="#chap0323">Stowell in London</a><br /> - 24. <a href="#chap0324">Alick Gell</a><br /> - 25. <a href="#chap0325">The Deemster's Oath</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - FOURTH BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap0426">THE RETRIBUTION</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - 26. <a href="#chap0426">The Wind and the Whirlwind</a><br /> - 27. <a href="#chap0427">The Judge and the Man</a><br /> - 28. <a href="#chap0428">The Trial</a><br /> - 29. <a href="#chap0429">The Two Women—The Two Men</a><br /> - 30. <a href="#chap0430">The Verdict</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - FIFTH BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap0531">THE REPARATION</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - 31. <a href="#chap0531">"Victor! Victor! My Victor!"</a><br /> - 32. <a href="#chap0532">The Voice of the Sea</a><br /> - 33. <a href="#chap0533">The Heart of a Woman</a><br /> - 34. <a href="#chap0534">The Man and the Law</a><br /> - 35. <a href="#chap0535">"And God Made Man of the Dust of the Ground"</a><br /> - 36. <a href="#chap0536">Out of the Depths</a><br /> - 37. <a href="#chap0537">The Escape</a><br /> - 38. <a href="#chap0538">The Grave of a Sin</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - SIXTH BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap0639">THE REDEMPTION</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - 39. <a href="#chap0639">The Birth of a Lie</a><br /> - 40. <a href="#chap0640">The Call of a Woman's Soul</a><br /> - 41. <a href="#chap0641">In the Valley of the Shadow</a><br /> - 42. <a href="#chap0642">"He Drove Out the Man"</a><br /> - 43. <a href="#chap0643">The Dawn of Morning</a><br /> - 44. <a href="#chap0644">"God Gave Him Dominion"</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - SEVENTH BOOK<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap0745">THE RESURRECTION</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - 45. <a href="#chap0745">The Way of the Cross</a><br /> - 46. <a href="#chap0746">Victory Through Defeat</a><br /> - 47. <a href="#chap0747">The Resurrection</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#conclusion">CONCLUSION</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -<i>AUTHOR'S NOTE</i> -</p> - -<p> -<i>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."</i> -</p> - -<p> -<i>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."</i> -</p> - -<p> -<i>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.</i> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<i>H. C.</i> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <i>Greeba Castle,<br /> - Isle of Man.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0101"></a></p> - -<p class="t2b"> -The Master of Man -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h2> -<i>FIRST BOOK</i> -<br /> -THE SIN -</h2> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER ONE -<br /> -THE BREED OF THE BALLAMOAR -</h3> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -None of us stirred, spoke or made sign. The Principal was -rapidly losing his temper. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Even yet there was no sign from the boys, and no sound except -their audible breathing through the nose. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well. So be it. I've given that boy his chance. Now -he must take the consequences." -</p> - -<p> -With that the Principal stepped down from his desk, turned his -blazing eyes towards the desks of the fifth form and said, -</p> - -<p> -"Stowell, step forward." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Stowell," he said, "you will not deny that you were out after -hours last night?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then it was you who were guilty of this disgraceful conduct?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It was you, wasn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell straightened himself up and answered, "So you -say, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>I</i> say? Speak for yourself. You've a tongue in your head, -haven't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps I have, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then it <i>was</i> you?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Why don't you answer me? Answer, Sir! It <i>was</i> you," said -the Principal. -</p> - -<p> -And then Stowell, with a little toss of the head and a slight -curl of the lip, replied, -</p> - -<p> -"If <i>you</i> say it was, what is the use of <i>my</i> saying anything, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Now go back to your study, Sir," said the Principal, between -gusts of breath, "and stay there until you are told to leave it." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was in no hurry, but he turned after a moment and -walked out, with a strong step, almost a haughty one. -</p> - -<p> -"Boys, go to your classes," said the Principal, in a hoarse voice, -and then he went out, too, but more hurriedly. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Vic, I can't stand this any longer." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it's you, is it? I thought you'd come." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you didn't do that disgraceful thing, as they call -it, but you've got to know who did. It was I." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell did not answer. He had neither turned nor looked -up, and Gell, standing behind him, tugged at his shoulders and -said again, -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you hear me? It was I." -</p> - -<p> -"I know." -</p> - -<p> -"You know? How do you know? When did you know? Did -you know this morning?" -</p> - -<p> -"I knew last night." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good Lord! Then he must have forgotten all about it!" -</p> - -<p> -"He had no business to forget." -</p> - -<p> -"Why didn't you tell him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not I—not likely!" -</p> - -<p> -"But being out after hours wasn't anything. It wasn't knocking -those blackguards about. Why didn't you deny that anyway?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, shut up, Alick." -</p> - -<p> -Again Gell tugged at his shoulders and said, -</p> - -<p> -"But why didn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you must know, I'll tell you—because they would have had -you for it next." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean that.... that to save me, you allowed -yourself to...." -</p> - -<p> -"Shut up, I tell you!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"That was little Bessie Collister." -</p> - -<p> -"I know." -</p> - -<p> -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.... <i>her</i> father also.... her -stepfather.... -</p> - -<p> -"Dan Baldromma, you know what he is, Vic?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, there would have been the devil to pay all round." -</p> - -<p> -"Wouldn't there?" -</p> - -<p> -"The College, too! Dan would have had something to say to -old Peacock (nickname for the Principal) on that subject also." -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Hold your tongue, you fool!" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"No, you're not." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I am—certainly I am." -</p> - -<p> -"If you do, I'll never speak to you again—on my soul, never." -</p> - -<p> -"But he's certain to remember it sooner or later." -</p> - -<p> -"Let him." -</p> - -<p> -"And when he does, what's he to think of himself?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's his affair, isn't it? Leave him alone." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"Alick! Alick Gell! Old fellow...." -</p> - -<p> -But the door had been slammed to and Gell was gone. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Wretched! Wretched! Wretched!" he thought, rising for -the twentieth time from his chair before the fire and pacing the -room in a disorder. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>you</i> say so, Sir...." It had been maddening. Any master -in the world might have lost his temper. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"Wretched! Wretched! Wretched!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Wretched! Wretched! Wretched!" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Come in then," he said, and Gell entered, his face flooded -with tears. -</p> - -<p> -He knew the boy as one who was nearly always in trouble, and -his first impulse was to drive him out. -</p> - -<p> -"Why do you come here? Go to your house-master, or to -your head, or...." -</p> - -<p> -"It's about Stowell himself, Sir. He's innocent," said Gell. -</p> - -<p> -"Innocent?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. <i>They</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -"But why, boy .... why .... why didn't you say all this -in school this morning?" -</p> - -<p> -"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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Who is he? What's his name?" -</p> - -<p> -"Dan Collister—but they call him Baldromma after the -farm, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"That wind-bag and agitator who is always in the newspapers?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"But, good heavens, boy, don't you see what you've done for -me?—allowed me to punish an innocent person?" -</p> - -<p> -"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.... -</p> - -<p> -"And did he know?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean to tell me that he took that punishment to -.... to save you from being discovered?" -</p> - -<p> -Gell hesitated for a moment, then choked down his sobs, and -said with a defiant cry: -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, he did—to save me, and the school, and .... and you, -too, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -The Principal staggered back a step, and then said: "Leave -me, boy, leave me." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0102"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWO -<br /> -THE BOYHOOD OF VICTOR STOWELL -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p> -"The Stowells have caught a smatch of the Irish and the -Scotch in their Manx blood." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>ex officio</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -"What does the old Deemster say?"—the answer to that -question often settled a dispute, for nobody thought of appealing -against his judgment. -</p> - -<p> -"Justice is the strongest and most sacred thing on earth"—that -was his motto, and he lived up to it. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, yes, Mrs. Clucas, yes! And what did it matter to the -woman to be a stranger when she was loved like that?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster had sent for famous physicians and some of -them had shaken their heads. -</p> - -<p> -"She may get through it; but we must take care, your Honour, -we must take care." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Call him Victor," she said—she had conquered. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You must love and worship her all your life, darling. I'll -tell you why, some day." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I didn't went no farther nor Ramsey to-day, mother"—seven -miles as the crow flies. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Sadie was peeling the potatoes this morning and Mrs. Corlett -was washing up, mamma." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You mustn't think as this is your house, 'cause it isn't." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Helloa! What's amiss? Why aren't you playing with -the girls?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because I'm not," said the boy. -</p> - -<p> -"Victor!" said the Deemster, but the boy's eyes had began to -fill, so the matter ended. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -As year followed year without tangible results the rumour -came home to Ballamoar that the son of the Deemster was not -fulfilling expectations. "<i>Traa de liooar</i>" (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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p> -"Send him home—<i>Stowell</i>." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"It's all right, Isobel—it is well." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0103"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THREE -<br /> -FATHERS AND SONS -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Cheer up, my lad! Many a good case has a bad start, you -know." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie had dropped her head on the table, but Mrs. Collister's -frightened face was gathering a look of courage. -</p> - -<p> -"Aisy, man veen, aisy," said the mother. "Take care of thy -tongue, Dan." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But the girl's only a child—only a child itself, man." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The woman flinched as if the lash of a whip had fallen on her -face, and Dan turned back to the girl. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Fine day, Mr. Collister!" -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"So that's your man, is it—driving with the Dempster?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said the girl, lifting her face from the table. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"It was a mistake—it wasn't the Dempster's son," said Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -"Then who was it?" -</p> - -<p> -There was no reply. -</p> - -<p> -"Who was it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I can't tell you." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -At sight of this the girl got up and began to scream. "Father! -Father! Father!" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't father me! Who was it?" said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"Walk, woman! Do as you plaze! But I must know who -brought disgrace on my name. Who was it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't! Don't! Don't!" cried the girl. -</p> - -<p> -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..." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, don't go, mother. I'll tell him," cried the girl. "It -was .... it was Alick Gell." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean the son of the Spaker?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"Think of it," said the Speaker, "the first Judge in the island -in the pocket of a man like that!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But mercy me, Archie," she said, "what does it amount to -after all—only a schoolboy squabble?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"So that's the end of the big man, Bella—the beginning of the -end anyway." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"It's Alick. He has run away from school." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What's this she says—that you've run away?" said the -Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I have—I told her so myself," said Alick, who was -half crying. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you though? And now perhaps you will tell me -something—why?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because Stowell had been expelled, and I couldn't stay when -he was gone." -</p> - -<p> -"Couldn't you now? And why couldn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"He was innocent." -</p> - -<p> -"Innocent, was he? Who says he was innocent?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do, Sir, because .... it was <i>I</i>." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You did it .... what Stowell was expelled for?" he -stammered. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"And then," said the Speaker (with a certain pomp of -contempt now), "without more ado you ran away?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Sir," answered the boy, "by the lavatory window when -we were breaking up after breakfast." -</p> - -<p> -"Where did you get the money to travel with?" -</p> - -<p> -"I had no money, Sir. I walked." -</p> - -<p> -"Walked from Castletown? What have you eaten since -breakfast?" -</p> - -<p> -"Only what I got on the road, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean .... begged?" -</p> - -<p> -"I asked at a farm by Foxdale for a glass of milk and the -farmer's wife gave me some bread as well, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Did she know who you were?" -</p> - -<p> -"She asked me—I had to answer her." -</p> - -<p> -"You told her you were my son?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And perhaps—feeling yourself such a fine fellow, what you -were doing there, and why you were running away from school?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"You fool! You infernal fool!" -</p> - -<p> -The Speaker had talked himself out of breath and for a -moment his wife intervened. -</p> - -<p> -"Alick," she said, "if it was you, as you say, who walked -out with the girl, who was she?" -</p> - -<p> -"She was .... a servant girl, mother." -</p> - -<p> -"But who?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tut!" said the Speaker, "what does it matter who? .... You -say you confessed to the Principal?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then if he chose to disregard your confession, and to act on -his own judgment, what did it matter to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"It was wrong to expel Stowell for what I had done and I -couldn't stand it," said the boy. -</p> - -<p> -"You couldn't stand it! You dunce! If you were younger I -should take the whip to you." -</p> - -<p> -The Speaker was feeling the superiority of his son's position, -but that only made him the more furious. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you know what this running away will mean when -people come to hear of it?" -</p> - -<p> -Alick made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -"You've given the story a fine start, it seems, and it won't take -long to travel." -</p> - -<p> -Still Alick made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't care about that," cried Alick. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't care!" -</p> - -<p> -"I had to do my duty to my chum, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Alick dropped his head. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I won't go back to school, Sir," said Alick. -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you, though? We'll see about that. I'll take you -back." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I'll run away again, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Where to, you jackass? Not to this house, I promise you." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll get a ship and go to sea, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then get a ship and go to sea, and to hell, too, if you want to. -You fool! You damned blockhead!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Who was the girl, I wonder?" -</p> - -<p> -"God's sake, woman," cried the Speaker, "what does it -matter who she was? Some Castletown huzzy, I suppose." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Sit down," said the Speaker, who had given him meagre -welcome. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Count it for yourself; I belave you'll find it right, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Quite right. I suppose you'll want a receipt?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you plaze." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"And now about my lease," said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -"What about it?" said the Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -There was another moment of silence, broken only by Dan's -nasal breathing, and then he said: -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Spaker, the Dempster's son has come home in disgrace, -they're saying." -</p> - -<p> -"What's that got to do with it?" said the Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"My daughter has come home in disgrace, too—my wife's -daughter, I mane." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Gell raised herself in her easy chair. "Was it your girl, -then..." she began. -</p> - -<p> -"It was, ma'am. Bessie Corteen—Collister, they're calling -her." -</p> - -<p> -"What's all this to me?" said the Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"She's telling me it's a mistake about the Dempster's son, Sir. -It was somebody else's lad did the mischief." -</p> - -<p> -"I see you are well informed," said the Speaker. "Well, -what of it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Cæsar Qualtrough might have prosecuted but he didn't, out -of respect for the Dempster," said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -"So they <i>say</i>," said the Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"But if somebody gave him a scute into the truth he mightn't -be so lenient with another man—one other anyway." -</p> - -<p> -The Speaker was silent. -</p> - -<p> -"There have been bits of breezes in the Kays, they're -telling me." -</p> - -<p> -Still the Speaker was silent. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I'll hear what Kerruish has to say. I have to see him in -the morning." -</p> - -<p> -"I lave it with you, Sir; I lave it with you," said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-day, Mr. Collister." -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"That will be all right—I know my son," said the Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, dear! Aw, dear!" said Mrs. Gell. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder you hadn't more respect for your sisters?" said -Isabella. -</p> - -<p> -"What are people to think of us—Fenella Stanley, for -instance?" said Adelaide. -</p> - -<p> -"I declare I shall be ashamed to show my face in Government -House again," said Verbena. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, shut up and let a fellow eat," said Alick, and then -something about "first-class flunkeys." -</p> - -<p> -But at that moment the parlour-maid came with his father's -message and he had to return to the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll do my best to please you, Sir," said Alick. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Sir," said Alick, and he meant to keep it. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0104"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FOUR -<br /> -ENTER FENELLA STANLEY -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder at the Dempster, I really do," said Auntie Kitty. -</p> - -<p> -"Leave him alone," said Janet—it would all come right -some day. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"But where was young Stowell while that was going on?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Same here," said Alick, who had had liberal doses of the -same medicine at home, less delicately administered by his -sister Isabella. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"But of course you don't know who <i>I</i> am, do you?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you ought to go away while I get out of this?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why?" -</p> - -<p> -He never knew what made him say that, but she glanced up at -him again, with the answering sunshine of another smile, and said: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you needn't, if you don't want to." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I remember that the last time I was in these parts you ordered -me off, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And the last time I was at Government House you turned me -out of the tennis court," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Then you were coming to meet me?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -She laughed again, having said more than she had intended and -finding no way of escape from it. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Without more ado she let him do it—picking her up in his -quivering arms and striding through the water in his long boots. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What a wonderful day it has been!" she said, -</p> - -<p> -"The most wonderful day I have ever known," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -"And what a wonderful home you have here," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What a wonderful story!" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"The women fought too, you say?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thousands of them, side by side with their men, and they -were the mothers of the Manxmen of to-day." -</p> - -<p> -"How glorious! How perfectly glorious!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no, no," said Victor—he was struggling to follow her, -and not finding it easy. -</p> - -<p> -"But all that will be changed some day," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -It might require some terrible world-trouble to change it, some -cataclysm, some war, perhaps (she didn't know what), but it <i>would</i> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"The laws made afresh, you say?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and some of the judges, too, perhaps." -</p> - -<p> -"And all the old tales re-told?" -</p> - -<p> -"Every one of them, and then they will be new ones, because -woman will have a new and far worthier place in them." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Well, well, old friend, I don't suppose either the millennium -will dawn or the deluge come whether the Keys are reformed -or not." -</p> - -<p> -That led Victor to ask Fenella what her father thought of her -opinions. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Only physical?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -She stammered again, and said that naturally men would always -be men and women, women. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't want that altered, do you?" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good—very good," said the Deemster. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0105"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FIVE -<br /> -THE STUDENT-AT-LAW -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She could have cried aloud after reading this letter, but there -was no help for it now. -</p> - -<p> -Truly, the heart of a girl is a deep riddle and only He Who -made can read it. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Unless I am mistaken your boy is going to be a great -lawyer—the root of the matter seems to be in him." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"If that young fellow had been sent up to Oxford, as he ought -to have been, he might have taken a first-class in <i>Literae -Humaniores</i> and became the most brilliant man of his year." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"God's sake, woman," the Speaker had said, "let him go then, -and make one more rascally Manx lawyer." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that you, dear?" she would say, down on her knees at the -fire, as he came in with his candle. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Any news from Miss Green lately, Janet?" -</p> - -<p> -One night Janet had something better than news—a letter and -a photograph. -</p> - -<p> -"There! What do you think of that, now?" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you think she's like my mother—just a little like?" -</p> - -<p> -"'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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"I notice she doesn't walk the island too often, though. She -hasn't come here for ages." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Alick had not the ghost of an idea, but knowing Deemster -Taubman was vain, and thinking to flatter him, he said, -</p> - -<p> -"I should advise my client, your Honour, to lay the facts, in -an <i>ex parte</i> 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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Good—very good!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Lord alive, Janet, what's amiss?" he asked, but she only -shook her head and called on him to eat. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me what's happened," he said, but not a word would she -say until he had taken his breakfast. -</p> - -<p> -He gulped down some of the food, under protest, Janet -standing over him, and then came a tide of lamentation. -</p> - -<p> -"God comfort you, my boy! God strengthen and comfort -you!" said Janet. -</p> - -<p> -In the whirl of his stunned senses, Victor caught at the first -subject of his thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it about Fenella?" he asked, and Janet nodded and-wiped -her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Is she—dead?" -</p> - -<p> -Janet threw up her hands. "Thank the Lord, no, not that, -anyway." -</p> - -<p> -"Is she ill?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not that either." -</p> - -<p> -"Then why make all this fuss? What does it matter to me?" -</p> - -<p> -"It matters more to you than to anybody else in the world, -dear," said Janet. -</p> - -<p> -Victor took her by the shoulders as she stood by his bed. "In -the name of goodness, Janet, what is it?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Seven years, you say?" -</p> - -<p> -"Seven years, dear." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I had it all from Catherine Green," said Janet. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But we must bear it as well as we can, dear, and—who -knows?—it may all be for the best some day." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Lord, what a joke!" he cried. "What a damned funny joke!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -At that word, though sadly spoken, Victor raised himself from -his pillow, brushed his eyes fiercely and said, in a firm, decided -voice, -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right, mother. I've been a fool. But it shall -never happen again—never!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0106"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER SIX -<br /> -THE WORLD OF WOMAN -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Victor leapt at the prospect of escaping from Ballamoar, but -thought it seemly to say something about the expense. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p> -"It's a horse that'll drive him to glory or the devil, and I -belave in my heart I'm knowing which." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Now they'll get to work; you'll see they will," said Janet, -and for the first weeks it looked as if they would. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you wish me to do, Mr. Speaker?" asked the -Deemster. -</p> - -<p> -"Do? Do? I don't know what I want you to do," said -the Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you didn't," said the Deemster, and then the -full-bearded dignity disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -Concerning Victor, although he had made the island laugh (the -shortest cut to popularity), opinions were widely divided. -</p> - -<p> -"There's only the breadth of a hair between that young man -and a scoundrel," said Hudgeon, the advocate. -</p> - -<p> -"Lave him rope and he'll hang himself," said Cæsar Qualtrough, -from behind his pipe in the smoking-room of the Keys. -</p> - -<p> -"Clever! Clever uncommon! But you'll see, you'll see," said -the Speaker. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The great fact was not long in coming, but few could have -foreseen the source from which it came. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Attractive young person, eh?" said Victor. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Nice morning, miss," said Victor, stepping out into the path. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Sir, nice, very nice." -</p> - -<p> -Then followed a little fencing, which was intended by Victor -to find out if the girl had seen them. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The girl gave him a deliberate glance from her dark eyes, then -dropped them demurely and said, with an innocent air, -</p> - -<p> -"Must have been some of the young colts broken out of the -top field, I suppose." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right," thought Victor, not knowing the ways of -women though he thought himself so wise in them. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him quizzically for a moment, and then said, with -her eyes full of merriment, -</p> - -<p> -"What sort of company, sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, mine for instance," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, a fresh and merry laugh from her throat, and said, -</p> - -<p> -"You daren't come home with me, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Why daren't I?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Victor put down his tea-pot and made a stride forward. -"Come on—where is he?" -</p> - -<p> -But the girl swung away, with another laugh, crying over -her shoulder, -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, no, no, plaze, plaze!" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, then it's you that are afraid, eh?" said Victor. -</p> - -<p> -"It's not that," replied the girl. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it?" said Victor. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"The old man might be sending somebody else up with the -heifers next time, and then...." -</p> - -<p> -"What then?" -</p> - -<p> -She laughed again with eyes full of mischief, and seemed to -prepare to fly. -</p> - -<p> -"Then maybe I'd be missing seeing something," she said, and -shot away at a bound. -</p> - -<p> -Victor stood for a moment looking down the glen. -</p> - -<p> -"God, what a girl!" he said. "I've a good mind to go after -her." -</p> - -<p> -"I shouldn't if I were you," said Gell. "You know who -she is?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who?" -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie Collister." -</p> - -<p> -"The little thing who was in Castletown?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I suppose she belongs to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"But Lord alive, that was when you were a lad." -</p> - -<p> -"Maybe so, but 'as long as you live'—that was the word, and -I mean to keep it. Besides, there's Dan Baldromma." -</p> - -<p> -"That blatherskite?" said Victor. -</p> - -<p> -"He'd be an ugly customer if anything went wrong, you -know." -</p> - -<p> -"But, good Lord, man, what is going to go wrong?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"My God, what a girl, though! Such lips, such flesh, -such...." -</p> - -<p> -"I say, old fellow!" cried Gell. -</p> - -<p> -Victor leapt down and laughed to cover his confusion. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, why not? We're all creatures of earth, aren't we?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0107"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER SEVEN -<br /> -THE DAY OF TEMPTATION -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"She's a fine worker, but we shall never be able to keep -her—you'll see we shall not." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"That splendid girl ought to become the mother of children." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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!!! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"And wouldn't it be nice to ask Victor to meet him, your -Honour?" -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster paused for a moment, then bowed his head and -answered, -</p> - -<p> -"Do as you please, Miss Curphey." -</p> - -<p> -Five minutes afterwards Janet was writing in hot haste -to Ramsey. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"No, Jane, not yet. It would be a pity to shut out this lovely -twilight. Don't you think so, dear?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Who are they talking about now, Janet? Is it about me?" -said Victor. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, yes .... yes, it's about you, dear." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -There came the sound of a faint gasp in the darkness, and then -Janet cried: -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But think of a slut like that coming to live as mistress -here—here in the house of Isobel Stowell!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Only think what a cry these people would make if anything -happened," said Janet, "wrecking your career perhaps, and -making promotion impossible." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be afraid of that either, Janet. I can take care of -myself, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"My father can take care of himself, too, Janet," said Victor. -</p> - -<p> -"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.'" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing <i>shall</i> happen—I give you my word for that, Janet," -said Victor. -</p> - -<p> -"God bless you!" said Janet, and rising and reaching over in -the darkness she kissed him—her face was wet. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>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.</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Thou need have no fear of thy lad, I tell thee. <i>The Ballamoar -will out!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -But the day of temptation was coming, and too soon it came. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0108"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER EIGHT -<br /> -THE CALL OF BESSIE COLLISTER -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The young men found the scene delightful. A little crude, -perhaps a little common, even a little coarse, but still delightful. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Vic," he cried, "I think that must be the Governor's -carriage." -</p> - -<p> -"It is," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"And that's the Governor himself inside of it." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt." -</p> - -<p> -"And the lady sitting beside him is .... yes, no .... yes -..... upon my soul I believe it was his daughter." -</p> - -<p> -"Impossible," said Stowell, and, remembering what Janet had -told him, he thought no more of the matter. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, but the girl's smart though," Mrs. Collister would -answer. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It's the Spaker's son again," he said, making a noise in -his nostrils. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Goodness sakes, man veen, how do thou know that? And -what's the harm done anyway?" said Mrs. Collister. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell your girl to put a lil rub on my Sunday boots," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"But she's upstairs dressing for Douglas," said Mrs. Collister. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't say?" said Dan. "So that's the way she's earning -her living?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"New hat, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, yes, man, the one she bought at Miss Corkill's -yesterday." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Hould thy tongue, woman, and don't be milking that ould -cow any more—it's dry, I tell thee." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, the smart you are in your new hat, girl—smart -tremenjous!" -</p> - -<p> -"I didn't think you'd have the taste to like it," said Bessie, -sitting at the table. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"They won't be yours to find then, so you needn't worry," -said Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I am, if you'll let me take my tea in time for the train." -</p> - -<p> -"Aisy, bogh, aisy!" said Mrs. Collister. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you're your own woman now, so I suppose you've got -lave to go," said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie leapt up from the table. -</p> - -<p> -"Shut your door if you like. There'll be lots of ones to open -theirs," she cried, and swept out of the house. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Collister struggled to her feet and followed Bessie, -pretending she had forgotten something. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie! Bessie!" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie stopped at the end of the "street" and her mother -hobbled up to her. -</p> - -<p> -"Be home for eleven, bogh," she whispered. "It's freckened -mortal I am that himself has some bad schame on." -</p> - -<p> -"What schame?" asked Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know what, but something, so give him no chance." -</p> - -<p> -"What do I care about his chance?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, I promise," said Bessie, and at the next moment -she was gone. -</p> - -<p> -Five minutes later, arm-in-arm with Susie, she was swinging -down the road to the railway station for Douglas. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! Oh!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good sakes alive," she whispered, "they're there!" -</p> - -<p> -"Who? The gentlemen?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, in the front row. Be quiet, girl. They see us. Don't -look up. They might come down." -</p> - -<p> -And then the girls laughed with glee at their conscious -make-believe, and their arms quivered again to the rush of their -warm blood. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -"Alick, isn't that our young friend of the glen?" -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie Collister? Where?" -</p> - -<p> -"Down there, standing with the fair girl, just inside the door." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, yes, upon my word, I think it is!" -</p> - -<p> -"I've a great mind to go down to them. Let us go." -</p> - -<p> -"No? Really? In a place like this?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not, man?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, if you don't mind, I don't." -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes later, in an interval between the dances, Victor, -coming behind Bessie, touched her on the shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -"How are those sweet-smelling heifers——still grazing on -the mountains?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Let us stay out a little longer." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you raelly, raelly see the young colts racing on the -tops, though?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed no, not I, woman. But I belave in my heart I know -who did." -</p> - -<p> -"Who?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why you!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At the next moment a clock struck coldly through the still air -from the tower of a neighboring church and Bessie broke away. -</p> - -<p> -"Gracious me, that must be ten o'clock. I have to catch the -ten train home." -</p> - -<p> -"You can't now. It's impossible," he said, and he tried -to hold her. -</p> - -<p> -"I must—I promised," she cried, and she bounded off. He -called and followed a few steps, but she was gone. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God!" -</p> - -<p> -It was all over. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0109"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER NINE -<br /> -THE MASTER OF MAN -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Dan had ignored their opposition as long as possible, merely -saying, when his audience laughed at their sallies, -</p> - -<p> -"We must make allowance for some ones, comrades—children -still, they've not been rocked enough." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Tell me the old, old story, ....<br /> - Of Jesus and His love.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -"Your daughter isn't back then?" said Dan with a growl. -</p> - -<p> -"Be raisonable, man," said Mrs. Collister. "Eleven o'clock -thou said, and it's only a piece after ten yet." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"They were telling me in Ramsey," he said, making noises -with his spoon, "that the Spaker's son went up to Douglas to-day." -</p> - -<p> -"Like enough!" said Mrs. Collister. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll go bail your girl went up to meet him." -</p> - -<p> -"Sakes alive, man veen, what for should thou be saying that?" -</p> - -<p> -"She's fit enough for it anyway." -</p> - -<p> -"But what has the girl done? Twenty-four years for Spring -and not a man at her yet." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie will be home for eleven," said Mrs. Collister. -</p> - -<p> -"She'd better, or she'll find Dan Baldromma a man of his -word, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Will thou not give the girl a few minutes' grace, even?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not half a minute." -</p> - -<p> -"But the ten train hasn't whistled at the bridge yet." -</p> - -<p> -"I've nothing to do with trains, Misthress Collister. Eleven -o'clock, I said, and now it's eleven and better." -</p> - -<p> -"But surely thou'll never shut thy door on a poor girl in the -middle of the night?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But the train must be late—I'll wait up myself for her." -</p> - -<p> -"You might burn your candle to the snuff—she's not for -coming, I tell you." -</p> - -<p> -"But she promised me—faithfully promised me...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The woman was on the verge of tears. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"There'll be no more rent going paying by me, I'm thinking," -said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you never for putting out that candle and coming to bed, -woman?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Lie thou there—I'll settle her." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Who's there?" -</p> - -<p> -"Me, of course," cried Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -A fierce altercation followed, in which Dan's voice was harsh -and coarse, and Bessie's shrill with anger. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie!" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie! Bessie!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At length she remembered Susie and persuaded herself that -Bessie must have gone to the Ginger Hall to sleep. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Bessie must have gone to Susie." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The cold air she brought with her awakened Dan, and he -turned on the pillow and said, -</p> - -<p> -"You've not been letting in that girl of yours, have you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No!" -</p> - -<p> -Dan made a grunt of satisfaction, and then said, with his face -to the wall, -</p> - -<p> -"Remember, you'll have to be up early to milk for yourself -in the morning." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -Then came a yawn, and then a snore, and then silence fell on -the little house. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"So I will, and you'll be sorry for it some day." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"'Find your bed,' indeed! We'll see! We'll see!" -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"If he felt like that and found me in Ramsey what would -he think?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie!" -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Stowell!" -</p> - -<p> -"Good gracious, girl, what are you doing here?" -</p> - -<p> -And then she told him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -"The brute! The beast! Did you tell him your train was late?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. He ought to have known that for himself." -</p> - -<p> -"So he ought. You are quite right there, Bessie. But didn't -your mother...." -</p> - -<p> -"Mother is afraid of her life of the man. She daren't say -anything." -</p> - -<p> -"Was there any other house he might have thought you would -go to—any neighbour's, any relation's?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have no relations, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! .... Then he deliberately shut you out of his house in -the middle of the night, knowing you had nowhere else to go to?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes!" -</p> - -<p> -"The damned scoundrel!" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie, who had been crying again, was looking up at him with -wet but shining eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what are you going to do now? Do you know anybody -in town who can take you in for to-night?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I must knock up one of the Inns for you. Here's the -old Plough—what do you say to the Plough?" -</p> - -<p> -"Dan Baldromma goes there—Mrs. Beatty would get into -trouble." -</p> - -<p> -"The Saddle then?" -</p> - -<p> -"I go there myself, every market-day, with butter and -eggs—people would be talking." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But, good heavens, girl, I can't go home and go to bed and -leave you to walk about in the streets." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll do whatever you think best, Sir," said Bessie, crying -again and stammering. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Come, then, let us think." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"He said I was to find my bed where I had found my company," -said Bessie, stammering again and with her head down. -</p> - -<p> -"Meaning that you had been in bad company?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"The foul-minded ruffian!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"That's it, Bessie! I wonder why in the world I didn't think -of it before?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -They had got back to the corner of Old Post Office Place when -Stowell stopped and said: -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Again Bessie answered "Yes" and "Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He was long in finding them, and while rummaging in the dark -room he heard the girl's quick breathing behind him. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"One o'clock! It was stupid to stay out in the streets so -long, wasn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Your hat is dripping. Hadn't you better take it off for the -few minutes you'll have to stay?" -</p> - -<p> -"Should I?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do; and I'll light the gas-fire—a bachelor has to have -gas-fires, you know." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Should I?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"It's only a hop-skip-and-a-jump to Mrs. Quayle's. I shall -be back presently." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It would be foolish to go out in a storm like that, wouldn't -it?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed it would," said Bessie. She had risen with a start, but -now she knelt again and held her steaming blouse before the fire. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -After a while the thunder went off in the direction of Ireland, -its echo becoming fainter and fainter in the sonority of the sea. -</p> - -<p> -"It's gone—now I can go," he said. -</p> - -<p> -But hardly had he taken up his cap again when the rain, which -had ceased for a moment, came in a sudden torrent. -</p> - -<p> -"Only a thunder shower—it will soon be over," he said. -</p> - -<p> -But the rain went on and on. Good Lord, were the very forces -of nature conspiring to keep him there all night? -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie, I'm afraid we shall have to give up the idea of going -to Mrs. Quayle's." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"But you can stay here, and I can go over to the Mitre." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no." -</p> - -<p> -"It's nothing—only two yards away." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But it's the very thing. I wonder I didn't think of it before." -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"Well, no, no," she stammered. -</p> - -<p> -"It's quite simple. You turn the tap, so...." -</p> - -<p> -He had to kneel by her side to show her, and he was feeling -the warm glow he had felt in the glen. -</p> - -<p> -"But not being used of it...." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I know—the reading-lamp!" -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -Then she laughed too, and they laughed together, but their -laughter broke into a sharp and breathless silence. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Then he heard a breathless cry behind him, and then the words, -</p> - -<p> -"Must you go?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At the next moment they were clasped in each other's arms. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0110"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TEN -<br /> -THE CALL OF THE BALLAMOARS -</h3> - -<p> -"What a mistake! What a hideous blunder!" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell, who had slept little, was awakening as from a bad -dream. A dull lead-coloured light was filtering through the white -window-blind. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -That horrified him. He hated himself for it, and after a while -his self-pity gave place to pity for the girl. -</p> - -<p> -"Good heavens, what are my risks compared to hers?" he -asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>will</i> 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? -</p> - -<p> -"No, by God!" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"You are responsible for this, because you were the first." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -And then he saw that what had happened last night was not -merely a crime—it was a sin. -</p> - -<p> -But what was he to do? What? What? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I know! I know!" he thought, and he leapt to his feet. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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—"<i>Do the right!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"I must marry that girl," he told himself. -</p> - -<p> -But at the next moment there came, with the shock of a blow, -the memory of his mother. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -Then a mocking voice seemed to say, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Let them," he thought, for louder at that moment than any -other voice was the voice that cried, -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Do the right!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, I must do the right; whatever it may cost me." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -For the first time, save once since he was a child, he felt tears -in his eyes, but he brushed them away impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -"It's too late to think of that now," he thought. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, I must do the right," he kept on saying, "whatever -it may cost me." -</p> - -<p> -Having arrived at this decision he felt an immense relief and -got up to go back. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At the mouth of the bridge he met the harbour-master, whose -face wore a look of dismay. -</p> - -<p> -"This is a ter'ble shocking thing that has happened in the -night, Mr. Stowell." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell caught his breath and asked "What?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, the light-house. Struck by lightning in the storm. -Didn't you see it, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, of course, certainly." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"It will, Captain, it will. Good-morning!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I must do the right, <i>whatever</i> it may cost me." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was marked "Immediate." Recognising the Ballamoar -crest and Janet's handwriting, he trembled and turned pale. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF FIRST BOOK -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0211"></a></p> - -<h2> -<i>SECOND BOOK</i> -<br /> -THE RECKONING -</h2> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER ELEVEN -<br /> -THE RETURN OF FENELLA -</h3> - -<p> -"Fate has played me a scurvy trick," thought Stowell. "No -matter! I'll go on." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But Bessie? Bessie Collister? Do you really mean it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well .... it is not for me to say why not. She was a sort -of old flame of my own, you know." -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Why, yes, of course I do," said Gell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What a good fellow you are, Alick!" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit! It's no more than you would have done for -me—less than you've done already." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"But of course you'll call, dear. I'm sure she'll expect it." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"We'll have to be careful about that, though," he said, "for -what do you think?" -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"Dan Baldromma suspects <i>me</i>, and is having me watched." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was Fenella Stanley. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"You wouldn't come to see me, so I've come to see you." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell never knew what answer he made when he took her -outstretched hand; but after a moment he said, -</p> - -<p> -"You know my friend Gell?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed I do .... And how's Isabella? .... And -Adelaide? .... And Verbena?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Gell made shift to answer for the sisters he had not seen for -months, and then went off. -</p> - -<p> -And then Fenella, taking the chair that Stowell had set for her, -and dropping her voice to a deeper note, said, -</p> - -<p> -"And now to business. You know we've established on the -island a branch of the Women's Protection League?" -</p> - -<p> -"I know." -</p> - -<p> -"One of its objects is to protect women from the law." -</p> - -<p> -"The law?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"I see," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella paused a moment and then said, in a voice that was -becoming tremulous, -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's why I've brought this first case to you." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll read them to-night," he said, putting them into his -breast pocket. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you'll require to see the prisoner?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"She hasn't opened her lips yet, but you must get her to -speak." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll try." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"So this is where you live?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, this is my office; I live at the other side of the house." -</p> - -<p> -"Really? I wonder...." -</p> - -<p> -"You would like to see my living rooms?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'd love to. I've always wanted to see how young -bachelors live alone." -</p> - -<p> -"Come this way then." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"What a comfy little room!" said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -As she looked around her eyes seemed to light up everything. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"She did." -</p> - -<p> -"And that lamp from Venice, and that silver bowl from -Cairo, and that cedar-wood photograph frame from Sorrento?" -</p> - -<p> -"Quite right." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's so." -</p> - -<p> -"Gas fire? So you have a gas fire for the cold wet nights?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, a bachelor has to have...." But another stabbing -memory came, and he could get no further. -</p> - -<p> -"And so this is where you sit alone until all hours of the -night—reading, reading, reading?" -</p> - -<p> -He tried to speak but could not. She glanced at the bedroom -door which stood open, and said, with eyes that seemed -to laugh, -</p> - -<p> -"Is that your....?" -</p> - -<p> -He nodded, breathing deeply, and trying to turn his eyes away. -</p> - -<p> -"May I perhaps....?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you would like to." -</p> - -<p> -"What fun!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you young bachelors know how to make yourselves -comfortable, I must say. But I seem to scent a woman about -this place." -</p> - -<p> -He found himself stammering: "There's my housekeeper, -Mrs. Quayle. She comes every morning...." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, that accounts for it." -</p> - -<p> -She walked downstairs by his side, and said, as he opened the -carriage door for her, -</p> - -<p> -"You'll do your best for that poor girl?" -</p> - -<p> -"My very best." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'm afraid...." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, but you must." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll .... I'll try." -</p> - -<p> -"Au revoir!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -So, sitting at his desk, he wrote, -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"DEAR BESSIE,—Please go into Castletown to-morrow and -have your photograph taken, and send it on to me immediately." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -After that he felt more at ease and sat down before the fire to -study his case. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -"I must not go to Ballamoar while she's there. It would be -madness," thought Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Stowell!" -</p> - -<p> -It was Dr. Clucas, a jovial, rubicund full-bearded man of -middle age, not liable to alarms. -</p> - -<p> -"I've just been out to Ballamoar to see the Deemster, and I -think perhaps you ought to keep in touch with him." -</p> - -<p> -"Is my father....?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no, nothing serious, no immediate danger. Still, at his -age, you know...." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll go home to-morrow," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The house, too, when he reached it, seemed to be deserted. -The front door was open but the rooms were empty. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"'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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"At last! The Stranger has come at last!" -</p> - -<p> -Janet was in raptures, and the Deemster said, while his slow -eyes smiled, -</p> - -<p> -"You are sleeping at home to-night, Victor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, father." -</p> - -<p> -"Good!" -</p> - -<p> -After saluting everybody Victor found himself walking by -Fenella's side, and she was saying in a low voice, with a -side-long glance, -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -With Janet's complete approval Fenella had taken control of -everything, and as Victor entered she said, -</p> - -<p> -"That's your place, Mr. Stranger," putting him at the end of -the table, with Janet and the doctor on either side. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"And this is for myself," said Fenella, dropping into a deeper -tone as she sang: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - <i>Less than the weed that grows beside thy door....<br /> - Even less am I.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ten o'clock! Time to go upstairs, Deemster." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"See that Mr. Victor's night-things are laid out, Jane." -</p> - -<p> -But Victor himself was in the hall, helping the Doctor with his -overcoat, and saying, -</p> - -<p> -"Can you take me back to town with you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly, if you'll wait at the lodge while I look in on the -cowman's wife." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, what's this mischief you are plotting?" It was -Fenella coming downstairs. -</p> - -<p> -The doctor explained, and Victor said, -</p> - -<p> -"There's that case. It comes on soon. I must see the poor -woman again in the morning." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"I was just wanting a word with you." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's about your father. You must really come back to live -with him." -</p> - -<p> -"Has he asked...." -</p> - -<p> -"Not to say asked! 'Victor doesn't come to see me very -often'—that's all." -</p> - -<p> -"After this case is over I'll...." -</p> - -<p> -"Do. You can't think how much it will mean to him." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"There! That shall be the last face I see at night and the -first I see in the morning!" -</p> - -<p> -But oh vain and foolish thought! With the first sleep of the -night another face was in his dream. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0212"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWELVE -<br /> -THE DEATH OF THE DEEMSTER -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I must hear Victor's first case at the General Gaol," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall have to be careful, then," said Dr. Clucas. "No -excitement, your Honour! No more heart-strain!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said the Deemster, and he reached forward to make -a note. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -For the last passage of his defence Stowell faced full upon the -jury, and spoke in a ringing and searching voice: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Let the prisoner be discharged." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster's dog-cart had now gone, but the Governor's -carriage was at the gate, with Fenella inside. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't forget your promise about Ballamoar," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm going to-morrow," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -And then came a shock. Turning to the table by his bedside, -his eyes fell on the photograph that stood upon it. -</p> - -<p> -Bessie Collister! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -Janet was waiting for him at the porch of Ballamoar. -</p> - -<p> -"You must be tired after your long day, your Honour?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all!" -</p> - -<p> -"And Victor—how did he get on, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"Wonderfully! Won his case and covered himself with -honour." -</p> - -<p> -At dinner (he insisted on Janet dining with him) he talked of -nothing but Victor and the trial. -</p> - -<p> -"He has got his foot on the ladder now, Miss Curphey, and -there is no height to which he may not ascend." -</p> - -<p> -Janet could do nothing but wipe her shining eyes and say, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -Within the house everything seemed to sleep. But the -Deemster lay dead. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Victor, Sir! Mr. Victor!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Wait for me. I will go back with you." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>He has gone, heaven, forgive me. I am going home now.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was a large volume, of some five hundred quarto pages, with -"Isobel's Diary" inscribed on its first page, and these words -below: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"A son is a separate being, Isobel. I can only stand -and wait." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Or sometimes, as if for comfort, a line from one of the great -books, not rarely the Bible: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"Thy way is in the sea, and thy path is the great waters, -and thy footsteps are not known." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Stowell felt his head reel and his eyes swim. If he had only -known. If somebody had only told him! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Overwhelmed with confusion Stowell tried to close the book, -but he could not do so. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Then came a glowing account of the trial at Castle Rushen, -and then: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -There was only one entry after that, and it ran: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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?" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive me!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he thought, rising and going on to his own room. "I -must do the right, whatever it may cost me." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -On the morning of the burial, Stowell received a letter from -Bessie Collister: -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"Dere Victor, -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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— -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"Bessie." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Time, like an ever-rolling stream,<br /> - Bears all its sons away.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>To the dear memory of Isabel, the beloved wife of -Douglas Stowell, Deemster of this Isle.</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"He is better there. In their death they are not divided." -</p> - -<p> -It was Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -At the next moment, something he could not resist, something -unconquerable and overwhelming, made him put his arms about -her and kiss her. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0213"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTEEN -<br /> -THE SAVING OF KATE KINKADE -</h3> - -<p> -The Governor was waiting for Stowell at the side gate to -Ballamoar. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What about Bessie?" asked Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What trouble?" -</p> - -<p> -"As we were walking along Langness yesterday—I went -down to tell her about the Deemster—we met Cæsar Qualtrough -coming from the farm." -</p> - -<p> -"Qualtrough?" -</p> - -<p> -"You know—father of the young scoundrel who got us into -that scrape at King William's." -</p> - -<p> -"I remember." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Next day the Attorney-General came with the will. Except -for a few legacies to servants, the Deemster had left everything -to his son. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Janet was in floods of tears at the possibility. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -A day or two later Stowell was in his father's room, when he -came upon an envelope inscribed: "<i>To be opened by my son.</i>" It -contained a ring, a beautiful and valuable gem, with a note saying: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"<i>This was your mother's engagement ring. I wish you to give -it to Fenella Stanley. Take it yourself.</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -For three days he thought he could not possibly go to Government -House. On the fourth day he went. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"See what the Deemster has left to me!" -</p> - -<p> -"Beautiful!" said the Governor, and then he looked from -Stowell to his daughter. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Dan, with his short, gross figure, was standing astride on the -hearthrug, and without so much as a bow he plunged into his -business. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And whom do you say it is, Mr. Collister?" -</p> - -<p> -"Somebody that's middling close to yourself, sir—Mr. Alick -Gell, the son of the Spaker." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"Who else then?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell tried to speak but could not. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Why do you come to me?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"To ask you to tell your friend that he's got to make an -honest woman of the girl." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that all you are thinking about?" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Then picking up his billycock hat and making for the door -he said: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -Hardly had Dan's footsteps ceased on the stair when the young -clerk came from the outer office in great excitement. -</p> - -<p> -"His Excellency is here. He's coming upstairs, Sir." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"Helloa, I've found you." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor was in yachting costume. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, the yacht is lying outside, and Fenella and I are doing -a little circumnavigating of the island, so come along." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell tried to excuse himself, but the Governor would listen -to no excuses. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But your Excellency...." -</p> - -<p> -"I've brought one of the ship's boys ashore for your bag, -so pack it quick...." -</p> - -<p> -"But really...." -</p> - -<p> -"Where's your bedroom and I'll pack it myself." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! But if I must...." -</p> - -<p> -"That's better! I'll smoke a pipe and wait for you." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella talked and laughed. Stowell laughed and talked. -They found it so easy to talk to each other. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell talked of the old ruin and its legendary and historical -associations—St. Patrick, the spectre hound (<i>the Mauthe Doa</i>), -the ecclesiastical prison and the graves in the roofless Cathedral. -</p> - -<p> -"But I'll tell you a story that beats all that," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"About a woman of course?" said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes—a fallen woman." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And was she?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella's gaiety had gone. Stowell gazed at her face in the -moonlight. It was quivering and her bosom was heaving. -</p> - -<p> -"And the Bishop was a saint, you say?" -</p> - -<p> -"If ever there was one." -</p> - -<p> -"He ordered the woman to be dragged through the sea at the -tail of a boat?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"And what did he do to <i>the man</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell gasped. There was silence for a moment, and then the -Governor's voice came from the skylight of the cabin: -</p> - -<p> -"Are you people never going to turn in?" -</p> - -<p> -"Presently." -</p> - -<p> -"I am, anyway." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Hush! I'm going to say something." -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"We used to call each other by our Christian names before. -Couldn't we go back to that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Would you like to?" -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause, and then, in a whisper, -</p> - -<p> -"Victor!" -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night!" -</p> - -<p> -It had been like a kiss. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He was there under false pretences. He had pledged himself -to the girl at Derby Haven, and yet.... -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Dan Baldromma? Well, what of him? He could shut the -door on Dan—of course he could! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing his opportunity, Stowell said he would like to go ashore -for a few hours—a little business. -</p> - -<p> -"Mind you're back by four o'clock then—we'll sail at high-water." -</p> - -<p> -As Stowell was being sculled ashore in the dinghy he was -saying to himself: -</p> - -<p> -"No Kate Kinrade for me—never, never!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -An hour later Stowell was in Derby Haven, a little fishing -village, smelling of sea-wrack and echoing with the cry -of gulls. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell heard Bessie coming downstairs with great alacrity, but -on seeing him she drew up with a certain embarrassment. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it's you?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Should we take a walk?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Bye and bye," he thought, "bye and bye." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear old Alick, he's such a good fellow, isn't he?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed he is," said Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -Those black eyes, those full red lips. Yes, this was the -girl who.... -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie? Oh dear no, not generally! Ask Mr. Gell." -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps the girl was not well to-day—they had thought she -had not been very well lately. -</p> - -<p> -"And how is she getting on with...." (the word stuck in -his throat) "with her lessons?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell felt as if something were taking him by the throat. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But Fenella? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -As he reached Port Erin, he saw the white sails of the yacht -against the blue sea and sky. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I must tell Fenella—I must tell her to-night," he -thought. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0214"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FOURTEEN -<br /> -THE EVERLASTING SONG OF THE SEA -</h3> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -What shouts! What laughter! Stowell kept saying to himself: -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? It will soon be over." -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Dy hannie Patrick Noo shin as nyn maaty</i>" (May St. Patrick -bless us and our boat) with something about the living and -the dead—the crew and the fish. -</p> - -<p> -After that came the throwing of the salt, a more robustious and -less religious ceremony, which threw Fenella into fits of laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"What does it mean?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Goodness knows!" -</p> - -<p> -"How delightful!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Isn't it wonderful—the fish going on and on to the goal of -their perpetual travels?" said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"They always come back to the place they were spawned, -though," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Like humans, are they? You remember—'Back to the -heart's place here I keep for thee.'" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly there was a crash at the stern—the anchor had been -lifted up and then banged down on the deck. -</p> - -<p> -"What's that?" cried Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me do it next time," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think you can, miss?" asked the Captain. -</p> - -<p> -"She can do anything," said Stowell, and when the next boat -called, Fenella (with Stowell to prompt her) stood ready to reply. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>R'ou promal, bhoy?</i>" cried the voice out of the darkness. -</p> - -<p> -"What's he saying? Quick!" -</p> - -<p> -"He's asking were you proving, boy. Say '<i>Va</i>—I was.'" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella put her open palms at each side of her mouth, under -her sou'-wester, and cried, "<i>Va!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Quoid oo er y piyr?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"He asks what you found in your net. Say '<i>Pohnnar</i>—a -child.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh my goodness! <i>Pohnnar</i>," cried Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Cre'n eash dy pohnnar?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"He asks what is the age of your child. Say '<i>Dussan ny -quieg-yeig</i>—twelve to fifteen.'" -</p> - -<p> -"My goodness gracious! <i>Dussan ny quieg-yeig</i>," cried Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella began to sing, and before Stowell knew what he was -doing he was singing with her: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - She: <i>Oh Molla-caraine, where got you your gold?</i><br /> - He: <i>Lone, lone, you have left me here.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless he went on, and when they came to the end of -another Manx ballad <i>Kiree fo naightey</i> (the sheep under the snow) -he said: -</p> - -<p> -"Would you like to know where that old song was written?" -</p> - -<p> -"Where?" -</p> - -<p> -"In Castle Rushen—by a poor wretch whose life had been -sworn away by a vindictive woman." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"The sea isn't always like this, though," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"How can I do it? How can I do it?" Stowell was asking -himself. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell knew, though he dare not look, that she was brushing -her handkerchief over her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Victor," she said, "don't you think women are rather brave -creatures?" -</p> - -<p> -"The bravest creatures in the world!" he answered. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -What shouts! What screams! What peals of laughter! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Need I tell her at all?" he was thinking. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She was radiant; he was reckless; the little trick had uncovered -their hearts to each other. -</p> - -<p> -They heard a step on the other side of the deck. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm coming, father." -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night, Stowell!" -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night, Sir!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"The Governor says we are to breakfast at Port St. Mary—do -you think we shall if this calm continues?" -</p> - -<p> -She laughed (her laugh seemed to come up from her heart) -and said, "I'm not worrying about that." -</p> - -<p> -"No?" -</p> - -<p> -"When a woman has all she wants in the world in one place -why should she wish to go to another?" -</p> - -<p> -"And have you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night!" she said, holding out both hands. -</p> - -<p> -He caught them, and the touch communicated fire. At the next -moment he had lifted her hands to his lips. -</p> - -<p> -She drew them down, and his hands with them, pressed them to -her breast and then broke away, and was gone in an instant. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell gasped. "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" -</p> - -<p> -Nothing else mattered! Let the world rip! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -Stowell did not go below that night. For two hours he tramped -the deck, laughing to himself like a lunatic. -</p> - -<p> -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"Oh God! Oh God!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He felt like a traitor—a traitor to Fenella now. He recalled -what he had said last night. One step more and—— -</p> - -<p> -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—— -</p> - -<p> -He must go. He must go immediately. His miserable -mistake must not bring disgrace on Fenella also. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He took off his fisherman's clothes, put on his own, and sat -down at the table to scribble a note to the Governor: -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"Excuse me! I must go up to Douglas by the first -train. Have just remembered an important engagement. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -Hope to call at Government Office to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Nane, jeer, three, kiare, quieg .... warp, tally!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0215"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FIFTEEN -<br /> -THE WOMAN'S SECRET -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Sit down—I shall not be long." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell felt his heart sink in advance. Never would he be -able to say what he had come to say. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you gave us the slip nicely, didn't you?" said the -Governor, raising his head from his papers. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Something you've been consulted about?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well .... yes." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm no authority on law, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"It's not so much a matter of law, Sir, as of morality—what an -honourable man ought to do under difficult circumstances." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor looked up sharply. Stowell struggled on. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Manxman?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"What class?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell felt his voice as well as his lips trembling. "Oh, -good enough class, I think." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Fire away." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell felt hot, his lips felt dry, and pushing back his black -hair, he found sweat on his forehead. -</p> - -<p> -"It was a shocking blunder, of course," he said. "My man -doesn't defend himself. Still he thinks the circumstances...." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean it wasn't deliberate?" -</p> - -<p> -"Good Lord, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"In fact a kind of accident?" -</p> - -<p> -"One might say so." -</p> - -<p> -"Any harm done?" -</p> - -<p> -"Harm?" Stowell turned white and began to stammer. "I -.... no, that is to say .... no, I've never heard...." -</p> - -<p> -"And yet he promised to marry the girl?" -</p> - -<p> -"He felt responsible for her. He couldn't be a scoundrel." -</p> - -<p> -"Did he care for her—love her?" -</p> - -<p> -"I can't say that, Sir. He might have thought he did." -</p> - -<p> -"And now he loves another woman?" -</p> - -<p> -"With all his heart and soul, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"No!" -</p> - -<p> -"No?" -</p> - -<p> -"It would be marrying the wrong woman, wouldn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well .... yes, one might say that, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then it would be a crime." -</p> - -<p> -"A crime?" -</p> - -<p> -"A three-fold crime." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor rose, crossed the floor, then drew up in front of -Stowell and spoke with sudden energy. -</p> - -<p> -"First, against the girl herself. She's an attractive young -person, I suppose, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell nodded. -</p> - -<p> -"But uneducated, illiterate, out of another world, as they say?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell nodded again. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"No?" -</p> - -<p> -"If he marries her it will out of a sense of duty will it not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ye-es." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean...." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"In the next place, it would be a crime against the man -himself. He's a young fellow of some prospects, I suppose?" -</p> - -<p> -"I .... I think so." -</p> - -<p> -"And the girl has some family, hasn't she?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Quite possible, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Then there's the other woman. I suppose her case is worthy -of some consideration?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed, yes." -</p> - -<p> -"If she cares for the man...." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't say that, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's true." -</p> - -<p> -"Fine woman, I suppose?" -</p> - -<p> -"The finest woman in the world, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you think, Sir .... you think he should stop even yet?" -</p> - -<p> -"Even at the church door, at the altar-steps—if there's no -harm done, and he is sure she is the wrong woman." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Eh? What the deuce .... Good heavens, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"But surely he couldn't ask a pure-minded girl...." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -Next day, at Ballamoar, after many fruitless efforts to begin, -Stowell was writing to Bessie Collister. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -It would be terrible. It would make his heart bleed. -Nevertheless he must bear it. It was a part of his punishment. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Alick Gell to see you, sir." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Can't we take a walk in the wood, old fellow? I have -something to say." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know how to tell you," he began. They were crossing -the lawn towards the plantation. "Its about Bessie." -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie?" -</p> - -<p> -"I .... I'm madly in love with her." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell stopped and looked without speaking into Gell's -twitching face. -</p> - -<p> -"I knew you wouldn't be able to believe it, but don't look at -me like that." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Alick," said Stowell, putting his arm through Gell's. "I'm -going to tell you something." -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that true? You're not saying it merely to .... But why?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because what's happened to her has happened to me also—I -love somebody else." -</p> - -<p> -"No? Really? .... But who .... who is the other -girl? .... Is it .... It's Fenella, isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Taking off his cap to fan himself with, Gell broke into fits of -half hysterical laughter. Then he said: -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -A dark memory came to Stowell. "Has she told him?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -A still darker memory of something the Governor had said -came to Stowell. "Didn't you say Bessie had written to me?" -he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, she did, yesterday; but I destroyed her letter." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know, I wrote to Bessie to-day, and I destroyed my -letter also." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -They were walking on. Gell with a high step was kicking up -the withered leaves. -</p> - -<p> -"What about your people?" asked Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -They were at the gate to the road, and pulling it open, -Gell said: -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Good-bye and good luck, old fellow," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-bye, and God bless you, old chap," said Gell. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell stood at the gate and watched him going off with long -strides, his shoulders working vigorously. -</p> - -<p> -"Never again! We can never be the same friends again," -thought Stowell, as he turned back to the house. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Was that Alick Gell in the wood with you?" asked Janet, -who had come to the door to call Stowell in to tea. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Goodness me! He must be a happy boy. He was laughing -enough, anyway." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -Stowell went to bed early that night, slept soundly and was -up with the coming of light in the morning. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Helloa, Molly, here we are at the top!" -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Peace in her chamber, wheresoe'er it be,<br /> - A holy place....</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"The very man we were talking about. Come in! Sit down. -We have something to propose to you." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Sir?" asked Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Murder again, my boy; but of a different kind this time." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Splendid opportunity to uphold law and order! You'll take -the case?" -</p> - -<p> -"With pleasure!" -</p> - -<p> -"Good! The Attorney will send you the papers. And now, I -suppose, you would like to see Fenella?" -</p> - -<p> -"May I?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? You'll find her in the drawing-room." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I think you are expected." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella," he said, hardly audibly. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0216"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER SIXTEEN -<br /> -AT THE SPEAKER'S -</h3> - -<p> -Before Alick Gell reached his father's house another had been -there on the same errand. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"It's like thou do, Dan," said Mrs. Collister. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But sakes alive, man, that's an ugly job, isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Hould thy whist, woman, and do as I tell thee, and that will -be the best night's work I ever done for her." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"See thou stand up for thy rights, now! This is thy chance -and thou's got to make the best of it!" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -In her comfortable sitting-room, thickly carpeted and plentifully -cushioned, Mrs. Gell was awakened from her afternoon nap -by the scream of the peacocks. -</p> - -<p> -"It's Mistress Daniel Collister of Baldromma to see you, -ma'am," said the maid. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You wish to speak to me," said Mrs. Gell. -</p> - -<p> -"If you plaze, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister, huskily. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It's about my daughter, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"My daughter and your son, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -"Eh?" -</p> - -<p> -"Cæsar Qualtrough of the Kays has seen them together. -They're living down Castletown way, they're saying." -</p> - -<p> -"Living .... my son and your daughter?" -</p> - -<p> -"So they're saying, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't believe it! I don't believe a word of it!" -</p> - -<p> -"I wish in my heart I could say the same, ma'am. But it's -truth enough, I'm fearing." -</p> - -<p> -"And if it is—I don't say it is, but if it is—why have you -come to me?" -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Gell, who was beating her foot on the carpet, broke -in impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -"In short, you think my son ought to marry your daughter?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's nothing but right, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -"And you've come here to ask me to tell him to do so?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you plaze, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I never!" said Isabella. -</p> - -<p> -"She's a mother herself, I was thinking, and if one of her -own girls was in the same position...." -</p> - -<p> -"The idea!" said Isabella. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But Bessie is a good girl, ma'am. And if she married your -son you would never have raison to be ashamed of her." -</p> - -<p> -"Good indeed! If a girl isn't ashamed to be living with a -young man the less said about her goodness the better." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Gell drew herself up in her chair. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm astonished at you, Mrs. Collister! A woman yourself, -and not seeing the difference." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -"The creature!" said Isabella. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Aw well, we'll say no more, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister, and -she shuffled to her feet. -</p> - -<p> -But Mrs. Gell was up before her. -</p> - -<p> -"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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Ma'am!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, well," he said, "so that's what it means. But there's -no knowing what hedge the hare will jump from." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Tut! It's not the girl I'm troubling about." -</p> - -<p> -"Who else, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"The man! I might have expected as much, though!" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"Then can't you settle with the man, Archie?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But it may not be true. It cannot be true. Unless Alick -tells me so himself I'll never believe a word of it." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What's this we're hearing about you—that you are carrying -on with a girl?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean Bessie Collister, Sir?" said Alick. -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly I mean Bessie Collister. And I thought you gave -me your word that you would see no more of her." -</p> - -<p> -"But that was the promise of a boy, Sir. Did you expect it -to bind the man also?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What disgrace, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"If anybody told you that, Sir," said Alick (his lower lip was -trembling), "he told you a lie—a damned lie, Sir!" -</p> - -<p> -"There!" cried Mrs. Gell, turning to her husband. "What -did I say? It isn't true, you see." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -It was a sickening moment for Mrs. Gell, and the Speaker, for -an instant, was dumbfounded. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh? What? You intend to marry...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"That .... that .... that bast—...." -</p> - -<p> -"Archie!" cried Mrs. Gell, indicating their daughters. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie is a good girl, father," said Alick. "What happened -before she was born wasn't her fault, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"So you've come to bring us the news and to ask me to double -your allowance? -</p> - -<p> -"If you please, Sir. You couldn't wish your son and his -wife...." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"But Alick will be reasonable," said Mrs. Gell. "He'll give -the girl up." -</p> - -<p> -"He'll have to do that, and quick too, or I'll cut off his -allowance altogether." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean it, Sir?" said Alick—he was pushing his -chair back. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"All right," said Alick, rising from the table, "I'll earn my -own living." -</p> - -<p> -The Speaker broke into a peal of scornful laughter. "You -earn your living! That's rich!" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"You fool! You confounded fool! But no fear! She'll -give you up when she finds you've lost your income." -</p> - -<p> -"Will she? I'll trust her for that, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then get away back to her—you'll not be the first by a -long way." -</p> - -<p> -Alick, who had been trying to laugh, stopped his laughter -suddenly, and said, "What do you mean by that, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mean? Do you want me to tell you what I mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Archie," cried Mrs. Gell, and again she indicated their -daughters. -</p> - -<p> -"Get out of this, will you?" cried the Speaker to the girls, -who had been sitting with their noses in their teacups. -</p> - -<p> -The girls fled from the room, but stood outside to listen. -</p> - -<p> -"Father," said Alick, "you must tell me what you mean." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"If any other man had said that," said Alick, quivering, "I -should have knocked him down, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Gell intervened, and Alick retreated a pace or two. -</p> - -<p> -"Take care, Sir," he said. "You can't treat me like that -now. I'm not a child any longer." -</p> - -<p> -"Then get away to your woman .... and to hell, if you -want to." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Alick! Alick Gell! Come back, you damned scoundrel! -Alick! Alexander...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0217"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -<br /> -THE BURNING BOAT -</h3> - -<p> -Two days later, Gell was stepping into the train for -Castletown on his way to Derby Haven. -</p> - -<p> -"Give me up because my income is gone? Not Bessie! Not -Bessie Collister!" -</p> - -<p> -But Bessie had gone through deep waters since he had seen -her last. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Alick," she said, "I wonder if my new watch is right by the -clock at Castle Rushen?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, what have you done?" she said, and her face was -suffused with blushes. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Then go and tell him we couldn't help loving each other," -she said. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The chemist, an elderly man with a fatherly face, smiled at -her, and said: -</p> - -<p> -"But what is it for, miss?" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie described her symptoms, and then the smiling face -was grave. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you a married woman, ma'am?" asked the chemist. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"A gentleman to see you, Bessie." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What's this—unwell?" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -"It's nothing! I shall be better in the morning," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you will." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He had seen Stowell and the matter had turned out just as she -had expected. Splendid fellow! Best chap in the world, bar none! -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -He was laughing so loud that the china in the room rang, but -Bessie was turning cold with terror. -</p> - -<p> -"And .... what about your father?" she faltered. -</p> - -<p> -"My father?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"But no matter! I'm not without money, so we can be -married at once, and the sooner the better." -</p> - -<p> -"But Alick," she said (he was stroking her hand and she was -trying to draw it away), "do you think it's best?" -</p> - -<p> -"Best? Why, of course I think it's best. Don't you?" -</p> - -<p> -She did not reply. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie," he said, "has anything happened while I've been -away?" -</p> - -<p> -"No! Oh no!" -</p> - -<p> -"You're .... you're not thinking of the loss of the income, -are you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no; 'deed!, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"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.'" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie began to cry. Alick was bewildered. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, then? Tell me! Are you .... are you thinking -of Stowell?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -And Bessie, in her bedroom was saying to herself, "He's that -fond of me that he'll forgive me, whatever happens." -</p> - -<p> -She lay a long time awake, with her arms under her head, -looking up at the ceiling. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Alick will forgive me, whatever happens," she thought. -</p> - -<p> -And then she blew out her candle, buried her head in her -pillow, and fell asleep. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -And then followed those dread words in that dead stillness, -which bring thoughts of the day of doom. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Then the court-house cleared to a low rumble that was like the -muffled murmuring that is heard after a funeral. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Are you there, Bill?" "Is it yourself, Nancy?" -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Here he is, boy! What do you think of him?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"What for are they burning the gorse on Peel hill at this time -of the year?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I've killed my sweetheart." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"If they hang him for that they'll hang a man for anything." -</p> - -<p> -Against this sympathy for the accused, Stowell had risen to -make his reply for the Crown. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, is it you?" he had said, when Gell laid hold of him—he -had started as if he had seen a ghost. -</p> - -<p> -They got into the train together and had a carriage to themselves. -Gell began with his congratulations, but Stowell brushed -them aside, and said: -</p> - -<p> -"What happened with your father?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But what do I care? Not a ha'porth! Best thing that ever -happened to me, perhaps." -</p> - -<p> -"And Bessie?" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"And why can't you?" said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"How?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's two pounds a week you draw on me for Miss Brown, -isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I'll make it ten on condition that you don't pay me back -a penny until I ask for it." -</p> - -<p> -"What a good chap...." But Gell could get no farther—his -eyes were full and his throat was hurting him. -</p> - -<p> -On arriving at Douglas he saw Stowell across the platform to -the northern train, and just as it was about to start, he said: -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, old man, you don't mind my saying something?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit! What is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"He <i>is</i> a fine fellow." -</p> - -<p> -"Do <i>you</i> 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>I</i> should have done?" -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Killed the other man.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell drew back in his seat and at the next moment the -train started. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But Bessie's case was different," he thought. "She was not -deserted. She sent Alick to me herself. Therefore it's -impossible, quite impossible." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0218"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -<br /> -THE GREAT WINTER -</h3> - -<p> -"Come in, my boy. Sit down. Take a cigarette. I have -important news for you." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor had returned from London and was calling -Stowell into his smoking-room. -</p> - -<p> -"First, about that recommendation to mercy. It has gone -through. The death sentence has been commuted to ten years' -imprisonment." -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad, Sir—very glad." -</p> - -<p> -"Next, your speech, deputizing for the Attorney, was -reported—part of it—in the London newspapers and made a good -impression." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm very proud, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"That is very encouraging, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless he was at Government House every day, and -Fenella and he had their cheerful hours together. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But neither wind, nor rain, nor mist, kept Stowell from Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -God, how good it was to be alive! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -They were doing this one day when Stowell came upon a place -where the snow was honeycombed with holes. -</p> - -<p> -"Helloa! There's something here!" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -His delight at this rescue was so boisterous that he went back -and back for hours and brought in other and other sheep. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Now I know what you are, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are not a lawyer, really." -</p> - -<p> -"No?" -</p> - -<p> -"You're an old Viking, born a thousand years after your time." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't say." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Really?" -</p> - -<p> -"I dare say you're sorry you're not back with your ridiculous -old ancestors, catching a woman for your wife." -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit! I've caught one already." -</p> - -<p> -"Eh? What? If you mean .... Don't be too sure, Sir! -You've not caught me yet!" -</p> - -<p> -"Haven't I? Look out then—I'm going to catch you now." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell and Fenella felt as if they were descending to a world -of reality from a world of dreams. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Three months yet, Sir!" -</p> - -<p> -"Heavens, what an age!" -</p> - -<p> -And then home to Ballamoar, with his young chestnut under -him sniffing the night air, and over his head a paradise of stars. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Come immediately. Important news for you.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -It was a telegram from the Governor, who had been in London -again. Stowell went up to Douglas by the first train. -</p> - -<p> -"It's about the Deemstership." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Mine, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And what was the result, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, the end of it is that you are to go up to see the Home -Secretary after the House has risen at Easter." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"You are very good, Sir. You have always been good to me." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor, who had been rattling on, in a rush of high -spirits, suddenly became grave and spoke slowly. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Trembling all over, Stowell went into the library to tell Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF SECOND BOOK -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0319"></a></p> - -<h2> -<i>THIRD BOOK</i> -<br /> -THE CONSEQUENCE -</h2> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER NINETEEN -<br /> -THE EVE OF MARY -</h3> - -<p> -Bessie Collister had passed through a very different winter. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie gave a frightened cry, and then Gell said, as if to -conciliate her. -</p> - -<p> -"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.'" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie, what are you doing?" they cried. -</p> - -<p> -"It's nothing," she said. "I'm used of it, you know. I was -eight years old before I wore shoe or stocking." -</p> - -<p> -Meantime she was putting Gell off and off. "Time enough -yet, boy," she would say as often as he asked her. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Sakes alive, boy, you've forgotten the bedstead." -</p> - -<p> -"Lord, so I have. We shall want a bedstead, shan't we?" -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was a clear cold winter's night with crisp snow underfoot, -and overhead a world of piercing stars. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to yea." -</p> - -<p> -"Same to you, and many of them." -</p> - -<p> -They saluted and shook hands with Bessie also. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But going home had its terrors also. There was Dan Baldromma! -What could she do? Was there no way out for her? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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 <i>For Charming</i> and <i>Sorcery</i> in capital letters -on their breasts." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Come in, my fine young woman. There's nothing to be -freckened of." -</p> - -<p> -It was Nan, the witch-doctor, and Bessie followed her into -the house. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Crosh cuirn</i> (the cross of mountain ash) was standing -at the back of it. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The witch-doctor, whose quick eyes had taken in the situation -at a glance, said, -</p> - -<p> -"Aw yes, bogh, trouble enough. But knock that cat off the -cheer in the choillagh and sit down and make yourself -comfortable." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie tried to refuse, but the old woman said, -</p> - -<p> -"Chut! A cup o' tay is nothing and here's my taypot on -the warm turf and the tay at the best, too." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Sheean ny Feaynid</i>, 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. -</p> - -<p> -"There's a fair young man in your life, my chree (<i>Yes</i>) 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 (<i>Oh!</i>) 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.'" -</p> - -<p> -At this Bessie broke down utterly, and the witch-doctor had to -stop for a moment. Then she began again in a different strain, -</p> - -<p> -"There's an ould man too .... yes .... no .... (<i>Yes, -yes!</i>) 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." -</p> - -<p> -"And will the young man be true to me whatever happens?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And will the old man be able to do him any injury?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie was laughing. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Bishop's licence?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Now? You mean to-day?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -They had reached the gate of the old maid's house by this time -and Gell was looking at his watch. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Sheean ny Feaynid</i> (the -Voices of Infinity) had said so. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"Don't come to-morrow. I'll be writing again in the -morning, telling you the reason why." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0320"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY -<br /> -VICTOR STOWELL'S VOW -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor, accompanied by the Bishop and the Attorney-General, -stepped on to the crimson-covered dais, and the proceedings -commenced. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as the spectators, who had risen, had resumed their -seats, the Governor called on the Attorney-General. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause and then a low stamping of feet and -Fenella whispered, -</p> - -<p> -"They want you to speak, dear." -</p> - -<p> -But Stowell did not seem to hear, and at length the Governor -called on him by name. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -After that he paused, as if not quite sure that he ought to go -further, and then continued, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He paused again and seemed to be about to stop, but, in a voice -so low as to be scarcely audible, he said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Others were to have spoken but the Governor closed up the -proceedings quickly, and then there was a general conversazione. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -A group of old ladies had gathered about Fenella, whose great -eyes were ablaze. -</p> - -<p> -"It was beautiful, my dear, but there was just one other person -who ought to have been here to hear it." -</p> - -<p> -"Who?" -</p> - -<p> -"The old Deemster himself, dear." -</p> - -<p> -"But he was," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -There were only two dissentients. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -As he passed through the outer gate his son Alick came -running hotfoot up to it. -</p> - -<p> -It was a cruel moment. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -A large company of the younger advocates (all former members -of the "Ellan Vannin") were waiting for him. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Bring it back in your bres' pockat, boy"—meaning the -King's commission for the Deemstership. -</p> - -<p> -"You go bail," said Stowell, and there was general laughter. -</p> - -<p> -He was settling himself with his portmanteau in the deck cabin -that had been reserved for him when somebody darkened -the doorway. -</p> - -<p> -"Helloa!" -</p> - -<p> -It was Gell. His cheeks were white, his face looked troubled, -and he was breathing rapidly as if he had been running. -</p> - -<p> -"What's amiss?" said Stowell. "Something has happened -to you. What is it?" -</p> - -<p> -Gell stepped into the cabin, and with a suspicion of tears both -in his eyes and voice, told his story. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"When did you see her last?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -With a trembling hand Gell took out of his pocket the letter -which Bessie had written the night before and handed it to Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -With a momentary uneasiness Stowell read the letter. -</p> - -<p> -"Reason? What is it likely to be, think you?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And what's that?" -</p> - -<p> -"That she finds out at last that she doesn't care enough for -me to marry me." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense, old fellow." -</p> - -<p> -"What else can it be? There can be nothing else, can there?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell's uneasiness increased. "What do you intend to do?" -</p> - -<p> -"Go down just the same. I've been telegraphing saying I'm -coming. That's why I'm late getting down to the boat." -</p> - -<p> -"And if she persists?" -</p> - -<p> -"Give her up and clear out, I suppose." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean leave the island?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"She's not well, is she?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not very." -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing serious?" -</p> - -<p> -"No—nothing, the Miss Browns think, that we might not -expect after such a change in her life and condition." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"If I could only think that...." -</p> - -<p> -"You may—of course you may." -</p> - -<p> -"Victor," said Gell, taking Stowell's hand, "will you do one -thing more for me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly—what is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Assuredly I will .... that is to say .... if you -think...." -</p> - -<p> -"Is it a promise?" -</p> - -<p> -"Undoubtedly. It shall be the first thing I do when I return -to the island." -</p> - -<p> -"All ashore! All ashore!" -</p> - -<p> -A sailor was shouting on the deck outside the cabin door, and -the third bell was ringing. -</p> - -<p> -Gell was the last to cross the gangway. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-bye and God bless you, and good luck in London! -You deserve every bit of it!" -</p> - -<p> -At the next moment the gangway was pulled in, the ropes were -thrown aboard, and the steamer was gliding away. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Better lo'ed ye canna be,<br /> - Will ye no come back again?</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-bye! Good-luck! Bring it back, boy!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The dear little island! How good it had been to him! How -eager he would be to return to it! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Dear God, how happy he was! What had he done to deserve -such happiness? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0321"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE -<br /> -MOTHER'S LAW OR JUDGE'S LAW? -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>Nonsense dear am coming up as arranged Alick.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -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), -</p> - -<p> -"It's from Mr. Gell. He wants me to meet him in Douglas. -I am to go up immediately." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -—BESSIE, xxxxx" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But no matter! She would be a proud and happy woman -yet—the <i>Sheean ny Feaynid</i> had said so. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Sheean ny Feaynid</i> had said so. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Oiel -Thomase Dhoo</i> (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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -This, too, was like something out of her own life. Ah, if -somebody had only told her .... -</p> - -<p> -But what matter! She would be a proud and happy woman -yet—the <i>Sheean ny Feaynid</i> had said so. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Therefore, courage, courage! She would be a proud and -happy woman yet—the <i>Sheean ny Feaynid</i> had said so. -</p> - -<p> -Only the great thing was to get home before daybreak, so that -nobody might see her until all was over. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -Dan Baldromma! -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Safe in the arms of Jesus,<br /> - Safe in His tender care.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it thyself, girl?" she said, in a breathless whisper. -</p> - -<p> -"Mother!" cried Bessie, and she took another step forward. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Bolla veen! bolla veen!" she cried, in a low voice that was a -sob. "It's my own case over again." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It's thy father," she whispered. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Get thee indoors, woman," growled Dan, "and put thy -house in order." -</p> - -<p> -"My house in order? Mine? And what about thine? Thine -that is a disgrace to the parish and the talk of the island." -</p> - -<p> -"Keep a civil tongue in thy head, Mrs. Skillicorne, or maybe -I'll be showing thee the road at Hollantide." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"I've got no daughter, woman, and well thou knows it," -said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -"'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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Come in, woman—lave the man to God," said Will. -</p> - -<p> -"God indeed! The dirt! The ugly black toad! God wouldn't -bemane Himself talking to the like." -</p> - -<p> -"Thou's done it this time, though, I'm thinking. Thou heard -what he said about Hollantide?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He took in the girl's situation at a glance, but after the -manner of the man he pretended not to do so. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Aisy, man, aisy," said Mrs. Collister, picking up her stick, -"don't thou see the girl has walked?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie had to put her hand to her throat to keep back the cry -that was bubbling up. -</p> - -<p> -"Aisy, man, aisy with the like," said the old woman. But Dan -was for showing no mercy. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"Dan Collister," said the old woman, "don't thou see the girl -is ill?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie dropped her head on the table. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Once more Dan stepped over to Bessie and touched her arm. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Sakes alive, man," cried the old woman, "thou'rt not for -turning the girl out of doors?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Then throwing the door wide and rattling the catch of it, -he said, -</p> - -<p> -"Out of my house, miss! Out of it! Out of it!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Stay thou there, and leave this to me." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Thou talks and talks of this house as thine and thine," she -said. "What made it thine?" -</p> - -<p> -"The law, if thou wants to know, woman," said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -"Then the law is a robber and a thief." -</p> - -<p> -Dan looked at his wife in astonishment, and then burst into a -fit of forced laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, that's good! That's rich! That's wonderful! What -next, I wonder?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Pity his daughter didn't take after him, then." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Truth enough, ma'am, he had to find thee a husband, -hadn't he?" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"And I did, didn't I?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Shan't I?" -</p> - -<p> -"'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>I</i> daren't turn -her out for it thou shalt not." -</p> - -<p> -"We'll see, ma'am, we'll see," said Dan. He was buttoning up -his waistcoat and putting on his coat. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He took his billycock hat down from the "lath" under the -ceiling and continued, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He drew his whip from its nail over the fireplace and stepped -to the door. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Don't cry, I'll go away myself, mother." -</p> - -<p> -But the old woman was up again in a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0322"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -<br /> -THE SOUL OF HAGAR -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Time and again the old woman came hobbling upstairs, bringing -food and trying to comfort her. -</p> - -<p> -"Will I send for Doctor Clucas, Bessie?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no. I shall be better in the morning." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Shivering, perspiring, weak, dizzy, she was sitting in the -darkness when her mother came to say good-night. -</p> - -<p> -"Here are a few broth. Take them. They'll warm thee." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no." -</p> - -<p> -"Come, let me coax thee, bogh." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie refused again, and the old woman's eyes began to fill. -</p> - -<p> -"Will I stay up the night with thee, Bessie?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll leave my door open then, and if thou art wanting -anything thou'll call." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Do you say that, mother?" -</p> - -<p> -Something quivered in the old woman's wrinkled throat. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, we women are all alike, thou knows." -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night and go to sleep, mother." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie hustled her mother out of the room, but hardly had she -gone than she wanted to call her back. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -Dan Baldromma had come home! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -With shaking fingers she lit her candle again, and then held -the light to the baby's face. -</p> - -<p> -The little, helpless, innocent face lay still. -</p> - -<p> -"Can it be possible .... no, no, God forbid it!" -</p> - -<p> -But at length the awful truth came surging down on her. She -had killed her child. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"How are thou now, bogh?" -</p> - -<p> -"Better! Much better! I told you I should be better in -the morning." -</p> - -<p> -The old woman was silent for a moment and then said, -</p> - -<p> -"Thou were not up and downstairs in the night, Bessie?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed no! Why should you think so?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because I shut the wash-house door when I went to bed and -it was open when I came down in the morning." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie's lips trembled, but she made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie could have laughed. Wicked, selfish, scheming—how -she was going to defeat it! -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Claghny-Dooiney-marroo</i>—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. -</p> - -<p> -Bessie decided to bury her child under the <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>. -It would lie hidden for ever there; nobody would find it. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Her mother came again to say good-night. She had the pitiful -look of a woman who was struggling to keep back her tears. -</p> - -<p> -"Wilt thou not sit up, Bessie, while I make thy bed for thee?" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie started and then stammered: "Oh, no! I mean .... it -will do in the morning." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It must be here," she thought, and she slipped down from -the path to the bed of the glen. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Bessie was terrified. Here was the <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i> almost -at her feet, but this bright light was like an accusing eye from -heaven looking down on her and pointing her out. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"Alick! Alick!" she cried, and the hot tears fell over her -cold cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>. 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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But the craythur is better these three hours," said Bridget. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"But did thou meet anybody as thou was coming up the glen?" -</p> - -<p> -"Maybe I did." -</p> - -<p> -"Was it a woman?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's like it was, now." -</p> - -<p> -"Did she go into the mill-house?" -</p> - -<p> -"I believe in my heart she did, though." -</p> - -<p> -Bridget was triumphant. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>. -</p> - -<p> -"Show me the road at Hollantide, will he? The dirt! The -dirty black toad! We'll see! We'll see!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Her feet have been bleeding. Where has she been, think -you?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I didn't know thy daughter had come home, Liza Collister." -</p> - -<p> -"And how dost thou know now, Bridget Skillicorne?" -</p> - -<p> -"How? There's someones coming will tell thee how, woman." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is she herself yet." -</p> - -<p> -"Not yet." -</p> - -<p> -"Better she never should be." -</p> - -<p> -"Sakes alive, man, what art thou saying?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'm saying that old trollop on the brews is after finding -something under the <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i> and sending her man to -the police to fetch it." -</p> - -<p> -"Fetch what?" -</p> - -<p> -"Just a parcel in a silk scarf with a lil arm sticking -out—that's all, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Bessie covered her mouth to suppress a scream. But -something whispered, "Hush! Keep still! They know nothing!" -</p> - -<p> -Early next day she was awakened by the sound of many men's -voices downstairs, and her mother's voice in angry protestation. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"They all say that, ma'am," said one of the men. It was -Cain, the constable. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is she really unconscious, doctor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Undoubtedly she is. You can leave her for a few days -anyway. She'll not run away, you see." -</p> - -<p> -After that, listening intently, Bessie heard the constable -ranging the room as if examining everything. -</p> - -<p> -"What's this?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -Bessie drew a quick breath, but dared not look around. -</p> - -<p> -"Only a remnant seemingly," said the doctor. -</p> - -<p> -"We'll be taking it with us, though," said the constable, and -then the rolling mist of unconsciousness covered everything again. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>I was a wandering sheep,<br /> - I did not love the fold.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -On the fourth day Bessie got out of bed and moved about the -room just to show how strong she was. -</p> - -<p> -"See what a step I have now. I could walk miles and -miles, mother." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It's rather early, but never mind about breakfast. A cup of -tea and a piece of barley bonnag—that will do." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't forget to waken me. I used to be the first up, you -know, but now I'm a sleepy-head." -</p> - -<p> -And then she kissed her mother (never having kissed her since -she was a child) and the old woman's eyes overflowed. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>But now I love my Father's voice,<br /> - I love my Father's home.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -How happy she was! At that time to-morrow she would be in -bed at Derby Haven, having seen Alick and arranged everything. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Go upstairs and tell her to make ready, ma'am." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no; the girl's not fit for it, I tell thee." -</p> - -<p> -"She's fit enough for the prison hospital, anyway." -</p> - -<p> -"She has never been out of my door since she came into it." -</p> - -<p> -"We'll lave that to the High Bailiff and the Dempster, if -you plaze." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p> -"They have come for thee, Bessie." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0323"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE -<br /> -STOWELL IN LONDON -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Has anybody ever told you that you resemble your father, -Mr. Stowell?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You have high traditions to live up to, young man. -Sit down." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The ends of the severe mouth rose perceptibly, and in any -other face they might have broken into a smile. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Remain there until you hear from me again, Mr. Stowell, and -meantime say nothing about this interview to anybody." -</p> - -<p> -"Not anybody whatever, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -The Home Secretary's stern old face became genial and -charming as he rose and held out his hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, that supreme being, perhaps .... Good day!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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>i.e.</i>, 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. -</p> - -<p> -"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! -</p> - -<p> -"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! -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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! -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"STOWELL." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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.' -</p> - -<p> -"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! -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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? -</p> - -<p> -"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!' -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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! -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"And so am I, my Victor! -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"FENELLA." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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! -</p> - -<p> -"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.... -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -"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....' -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"VICTOR." -</p> - -<p> -"P.S. <i>Important</i>. Don't forget to employ Gell in that case -of the girl who killed her baby. Alick's her man. <i>Mind you, -though—he must compel her to tell him everything.</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0324"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR -<br /> -ALICK GELL -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What devil out of hell made me think of that?" he -asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"That's it! That's it! My poor girl!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, yes, that's the way with them, the boghs, especially when -there's a man bothering them. Was there any man, now...." -</p> - -<p> -But Alick was up and gone before they could finish their -question. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Alick paused a moment to draw breath. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Alick felt his heart stop and his whole body grew cold. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"Her step-father...." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The letter almost dropped from his fingers. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"Her step-father has not been asked by the prosecution -to depose, and it is doubtful if the defence ought to call him." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -He was becoming dizzy. The lines of the letter were running -into each other. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"As you see the poor creature is herself an illegitimate -child—the name by which she is commonly known being -Bessie Collister." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Alick shrieked. He had seen the blow coming, but when it -came it fell on him like a thunderbolt. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"My poor girl! In Castle Rushen!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Gladly." -</p> - -<p> -Brief as the message was, the clerk at the counter could hardly -decipher the agitated handwriting. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -<i>Victor Stowell appointed Deemster.</i> -</p> - -<p> -Glorious! Bessie would have a human being on the bench. -Thank God for that anyway! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The magistrate was about to commit her to prison when -Dr. Clucas rose in the body of the Court-house. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"My good woman, if you are innocent, as you say, the best -proof you can give is that of a medical examination." -</p> - -<p> -At this Bessie broke into fierce wrath. -</p> - -<p> -"If you touch me again," she cried, "I'll tear your eyes out!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it morning?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, dear." -</p> - -<p> -"Then it's the next day?" -</p> - -<p> -"The next but one." -</p> - -<p> -"Have I been wandering?" -</p> - -<p> -"A little." -</p> - -<p> -"Did I call for anybody?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Is it in the papers?" -</p> - -<p> -The nurse nodded, and after a moment, with her eyes down, -Bessie said, -</p> - -<p> -"Has anybody been here to ask for me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, your mother—she comes night and morning." -</p> - -<p> -"Nobody else?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nobody." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie broke into sobs and turned her face to the wall. Alick -knew! He had given her up! She had lost him! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Good-bye, dear. You're all right now. I'm going away and -will say nothing." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Take your seats! Take your seats!" -</p> - -<p> -The train went on. There was no more laughter from the -passengers in the compartment in front. Bessie -understood—they were whispering about her. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"A taste young, maybe, but clever—clever uncommon." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"There she is!" "Serve her right, <i>I</i> say!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Tut, tut, gel! They're not for hanging you yet at all. -While there's life there's hope!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Alick! Alick! Alick!" -</p> - -<p> -Her heart was crying. She was wishing she were dead. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Alexander Gell, the advocate, to see you alone." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie!" -</p> - -<p> -His voice was low and full of tears. At first she did not answer. -</p> - -<p> -"It's Alick. Won't you speak to me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Go away!" -</p> - -<p> -He could hear that she was crying. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He saw the dark form rising on the bed. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know what they say I did?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know everything." -</p> - -<p> -"And you don't believe it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not one word of it." -</p> - -<p> -"You think I am innocent?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure you are." -</p> - -<p> -"Alick!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course I should have taken it up in any case, you know. -And now you must authorise me to defend you." -</p> - -<p> -She was startled. In the half darkness he saw her pale face -(so pale and so thin) raised to his with a frightened look. -</p> - -<p> -"You?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not, dear? I'm an advocate. You don't suppose I'm -going to leave your defence to anybody else, do you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! You must not!" -</p> - -<p> -"But why? Can't you trust me, Bess?" -</p> - -<p> -"It isn't that." -</p> - -<p> -"What then?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no! I cannot!" -</p> - -<p> -Alick was puzzled. "What do you mean, Bessie? Why -shouldn't I be your advocate?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want any advocate." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"Wait outside the prison door until you come out and marry -you the same day to show that I believe in you still." -</p> - -<p> -At that Bessie was in floods of tears again. And again they -cried in each other's arms like children. -</p> - -<p> -Then Alick, after drying his eyes in the darkness, put on a -brave air, and told her what she had to do. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Bessie listened in silence, gazing before her like a captured -sheep, and answering only by a nodding of her head. -</p> - -<p> -"If the Attorney asks you anything else—no matter what—you -must say you know nothing about it—-do you understand?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Say it after me then—'I know nothing about it.'" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie repeated the words like a woman talking in her -sleep—-"'I know nothing about it.'" -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right. Leave the rest to me." -</p> - -<p> -"You think I shall get off?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sure of it. If the General Gaol is held next week, we'll -be married the week after." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Alick?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Your father and sisters, will they not always cast it up at -you that your wife has been tried for...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie was crying once more, and Alick, to conceal his own -tears, was going off with great bustle. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -For the next half-hour Bessie sobbed with joy. Tell the truth -and destroy Alick's faith in her? Never! Never in this world! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0325"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE -<br /> -THE DEEMSTER'S OATH -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The sun was bright outside, and they blinked their eyes as -they crossed the courtyard to the Court-house. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>By this Book and the holy contents thereof....</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>By this Book and the holy contents thereof....</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>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>" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>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....</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>.... man and woman ....</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>.... as indifferently as the herring bone doth lie down the -middle of the fish.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -There was a deep silence until the oath was ended and then a -general drawing of breath. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Don't forget to send him home in time, dear." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll not forget," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What? You want to return in the automobile? Very well, off -you go! The Attorney will take pity on your forsaken father." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But that was as nothing compared with the demonstration when -Stowell went off in his car, sitting at the wheel, with Fenella -beside him. -</p> - -<p> -"Long live the new Deemster—hip, hip—hip!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"What are they doing now, I wonder?" -</p> - -<p> -There were seven prisoners in the Castle that day. One of -them was Bessie Collister. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"Addio! See you at supper!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what did you think of it?" -</p> - -<p> -"The ceremony? Lovely!" -</p> - -<p> -"But you were crying all the time!" -</p> - -<p> -"It must have been through looking at you, then. There was -everybody doing you honour, and you looked like a man going -to execution." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"A little frightening, though," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Frightening?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Really! You wicked fellow! I wasn't aware you had so -many sins to answer for. But <i>I</i> know!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What a procession! And the question was, which kind were -you going to belong to—eh?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"<i>I</i> know. You thought you were signing your death-warrant." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But what nonsense!" cried Fenella. "Love—what I call -love—is not like that. It never dies and never changes." -</p> - -<p> -"Never?" -</p> - -<p> -"Never! If I loved anybody and anything happened, I should -fight the world for him." -</p> - -<p> -"Even if he were in the wrong?" -</p> - -<p> -"Goodness yes! Where would be the merit of fighting for -him if he were in the right?" -</p> - -<p> -"Darling!" cried Stowell, and, the road being clear, and -nobody in sight, he had to slow down the car to kiss her. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Let us take the old road back—it's longer." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it's longer." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"What a jolly old world it is, isn't it?" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"Lord! What a jolly old world it is, though!" -</p> - -<p> -"Didn't you say that before, Victor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Did I? Well, I'm going to say it every blessed day of my -life to come." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! Take care! We're on the edge of the cliff. We'll -be over!" -</p> - -<p> -"No matter—another kiss!" -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell heard them now, over the roar of the waves in their -mad welter, and he cried, -</p> - -<p> -"Listen to the bells!" -</p> - -<p> -"What bells?" -</p> - -<p> -"Our bells!" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Here where the ocean is whitened with foam,<br /> - Here stood a city, an altar, a home.<br /> - Hark to the bells that ring under the sea,<br /> - Salve Regina! Salve Regina!<br /> - Love is the Queen for you and for me,<br /> - Salve, Salve Regina!</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Now you must get away to Ballamoar. I promised Janet to -send you back in time. Some kind of welcome home, you know." -</p> - -<p> -But Stowell stood over her (she was at the piano) and -whispered, -</p> - -<p> -"When?" -</p> - -<p> -She pretended not to understand him, and again, and in a more -emphatic voice, he demanded, -</p> - -<p> -"When?" -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Done!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -She laughed—a nervous and palpitating laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Rachel indeed? Take care it isn't Leah in the morning, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing!" -</p> - -<p> -And then a long tremulous kiss and he was gone. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -Home! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -On reaching the entrance to Ballamoar he found a crowd waiting -at the gate, and a streamer from post to post, saying— -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - WELCOME TO<br /> - HIS FATHER'S SON.<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't get up," cried Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -During tea Joshua Scarff arrived with a green portfolio under -his arm. -</p> - -<p> -"I've brought some documents you'll wish to look at before -the Court sits, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"Good! Put them on the desk in the library and then come -back and have some tea." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night, all!" -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night, your Honour!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 .... -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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...." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>Calendar of Cases to be tried at the Spring Session of -the Court of General Gaol Delivery. Presiding -Deemster</i>—DEEMSTER VICTOR STOWELL." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Then came a moral thunderclap. Opening the Calendar he -read these words on the first page of it: -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - <i>REX </i>v.<i> CORTEEN<br /> - FOR MURDER<br /> - DEPOSITIONS.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -<i>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.</i> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF THIRD BOOK -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0426"></a></p> - -<h2> -<i>FOURTH BOOK</i> -<br /> -THE RETRIBUTION -</h2> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX -<br /> -THE WIND AND THE WHIRLWIND -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Early in the morning Robbie Creer had driven into town for -Dr. Clucas, who had ordered rest—absolute rest. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It was that oath-taking, dear. I could see you were taking -it too seriously." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Would you like me to stay and nurse you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! .... I mean you needn't...." -</p> - -<p> -His stammering broke down and his face gloomed, but with a -quick smile she said, -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -From some unseen place behind the curtains of the four-poster, -Janet, snuffling and blowing her nose, answered that she would. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -No, no, no! It would not only be a crime against Justice; it -would be a sin against God. -</p> - -<p> -Joshua Scarff came in the afternoon. Standing by the bed, and -looking down through his dark spectacles, he said, -</p> - -<p> -"This is a pity, your Honour! A great pity! Such interesting -cases! Your Honour must have wished to study them before -sitting in Court." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster's clerk was almost speechless with dismay. His -Honour's first Court! Pity! Great pity! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell struggled with himself for a moment, and then, with -an embarrassed utterance said, -</p> - -<p> -"Let her come in." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Sit down, Mrs. Collister." -</p> - -<p> -The old woman sat in the chair which Janet turned for her, -and began on her story. -</p> - -<p> -"It's about Bessie." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"And if she's in trouble now, your Honour, it's like it's not all -her own fault neither." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was silent. The old woman cried softly to herself for -a moment and then said, -</p> - -<p> -"Nobody knows what that is, your Honour, except them that -has gone through it." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"In fact I could not have received you at all but for one -thing—I am not going to try your daughter's case." -</p> - -<p> -The old woman was appalled. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean, Sir, that you'll not be trying Bessie?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, Deemster Taubman will probably do so." -</p> - -<p> -At that the old woman broke into a flood of tears. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"God bless you for that," cried the old woman. And then -Janet said it was time to go, his Honour being unwell. -</p> - -<p> -"May the Lord give him health and strength and long -life, ma'am!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"You must excuse a poor woman if she did wrong in coming -to you, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"We'll say no more about that now," said Stowell. "Go -home and rest, mother." -</p> - -<p> -At that word the old woman broke down utterly. But after a -moment her weak eyes shone and she said, -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie is not your quality, Sir, but if she gets off she'll write -to thank you." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! She must never do that," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Come now, Mrs. Collister," said Janet. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell tried to reply, but he could only wave his hand and turn -to the window as the old woman left the room. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -A moment afterwards Janet came back wiping her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, these mothers! They're fit enough to break one's -heart, Victor." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"The Deemster will see <i>me</i>, Jane." -</p> - -<p> -It was Alick Gell. His tall figure was more bent than usual; -his hair was disordered; his eyes glittered; he was deeply agitated. -</p> - -<p> -"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!'" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell could scarcely find voice to reply. He remembered -what he had advised Fenella to get Gell to do. Had Bessie -told him?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell answered in a low tone that perhaps it might have to -be, whereupon Gell made a cry of dismay. -</p> - -<p> -"Then God help my poor girl! It will be Taubman, and -she'll not have a dog's chance with him." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie is to plead Not Guilty?" -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly." -</p> - -<p> -"Will she stick to that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Undoubtedly. Why shouldn't she? Besides, she has given -me her promise." -</p> - -<p> -Again Stowell was silent for a moment; then he said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Gell made a shout of joy. -</p> - -<p> -"That's good enough for me. Just like you, old fellow." -</p> - -<p> -He snatched up his cap—a different man in a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>he</i> too.... -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly he became aware of a tumult at the front door. -Somebody was bawling in a loud voice, -</p> - -<p> -"I'll see the Dempster if I have to shout the house down." -</p> - -<p> -It was Dan Baldromma. Stowell stepped into the hall and -said to the housemaid, who was barring the door against -the intruder, -</p> - -<p> -"Let him come in, Jane." -</p> - -<p> -Dan, with his short, gross figure, rolled into the house without -remembering to take his hat off. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what do you want?" said Stowell—he was quivering -with anger. -</p> - -<p> -"I want to know what is to be done for me?" said Dan. -</p> - -<p> -"For you?" -</p> - -<p> -"For my daughter then—my step-daughter, I mane." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell, swept by gusts of passion, was doing his best to -control himself. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what have you come to me for?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -Dan thrust forward his thick neck with his bull-like gesture, -and said, -</p> - -<p> -"To tell you to get her off." -</p> - -<p> -"Even if she is guilty?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Dan drew himself up with a short laugh, half bitter and -half triumphant. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell pointed with a quivering hand to the clock on the -landing, and said, -</p> - -<p> -"Look at that clock. If you're not out of this house in -one minute...." -</p> - -<p> -Dan's laugh rose to a cry of derision. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Janet came running from her room, and seeing Stowell with -his eyes aflame and panting for breath, said, -</p> - -<p> -"Oh dear! Oh dear! Now you'll be worse." -</p> - -<p> -"On the contrary, I'll be better—better in every way," he said. -</p> - -<p> -His resolution was taken. Never would he sit on Bessie's -case. Nothing should tempt him to do so. -</p> - -<p> -But Fate had not yet done with him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -V -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Although she rose to greet him with all the sunshine of her -smile he could see that her face was feverish. -</p> - -<p> -"I've come to the north on three errands," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"So?" -</p> - -<p> -"First to see yourself, of course, and I find that, in spite of -doctor's orders, you have already resumed your gypsy habits." -</p> - -<p> -"He <i>would</i> go out, dear," said Janet. -</p> - -<p> -"Next, to deliver a message from the Governor." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"He has postponed the Court for three days in the hope that -you may be able to sit then." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -"My last errand was to see the mother of that poor girl who is -to be charged with the murder of her child." -</p> - -<p> -"The mother?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Guilty?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but there's somebody guiltier than the girl—the man." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was silent; but he felt his face twitching. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"They can't do otherwise, dear. They can't try the man." -</p> - -<p> -"Not if he has been a party to the crime?" -</p> - -<p> -"A party...." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes! I'm satisfied that in this case he is, too." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell had as much as he could do to cover his embarrassment. -He lowered his voice and said, -</p> - -<p> -"That's a blind alley. I've read the Depositions. I'm sure it -is, dear." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't," said Fenella. "I intend to -follow it up anyway." -</p> - -<p> -"How?" said Stowell, but rather with his mouth than -his voice. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm already on the track of something." -</p> - -<p> -"On the track...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell's heart thumped and his lips quivered. -</p> - -<p> -"Mrs. Quayle?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, that must be the housekeeper at your chambers, dear," -said Janet, busy with her teacups. -</p> - -<p> -"You know her? .... But then everybody knows everybody -in the Isle of Man," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -With a sense of duplicity, Stowell found himself saying, -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -He nodded and tried to smile. -</p> - -<p> -"I was too bashful to shake hands and you were too shy to -look at me." -</p> - -<p> -And being seated in the carriage and the door closed on her, -she said, -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, wouldn't you like to drive over with me to -Mrs. Quayle if I brought you home again?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no .... I mean...." -</p> - -<p> -She laughed merrily. "Oh, very well! You've refused me -again! I'll remember it, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"God be merciful to me, a sinner!" he moaned, smothering -the sound of the words behind his hands. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I will go up to the Governor in the morning." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0427"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN -<br /> -THE JUDGE AND THE MAN -</h3> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I've come to see you on a serious matter, Sir," said -Stowell—he felt his lips trembling. -</p> - -<p> -"So?" -</p> - -<p> -The Governor glanced up quickly, charged his pipe and then -settled himself to listen. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perfectly." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell paused a moment. His lips became pale and his -hands contracted. -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"That was my own story, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You advised me to break off the engagement and I did so." -</p> - -<p> -"What was the result?" -</p> - -<p> -"The girl was relieved." -</p> - -<p> -"Relieved?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, because she, too, had in the meantime fallen in love -with somebody else—my friend Gell." -</p> - -<p> -"How fortunate!" -</p> - -<p> -"It seemed so at first. I thought Providence had stepped in -to help her out. But Fate has kept a terrible reckoning, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"What has happened?" -</p> - -<p> -"The girl has committed a crime. She is in Castle Rushen -awaiting her trial for the murder of her new-born child." -</p> - -<p> -"The woman Collister?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. And now I'm a Judge and in ordinary course it is my -duty to try her." -</p> - -<p> -There was another period of silence, broken only by the rapid -puffing of the Governor's pipe. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor removed his pipe. His face had become cold -and hard. "You speak of your colleague—have you done -anything with him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. I've asked him to sit instead of me." -</p> - -<p> -"What if he cannot?" -</p> - -<p> -"Then I will ask you, Sir, to send for another Judge from -across the water." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Now listen to me. I always knew that was your own story." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"What I did not know was that any harm had been done. -Did you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed no." -</p> - -<p> -"Did the girl?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is incredible." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know that she has killed her child?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not certainly. She denies it, and the evidence is not too -convincing." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know that she ever had a child?" -</p> - -<p> -"No .... I can't say .... She denies that also, and -the medical testimony is far from conclusive." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know—are you satisfied—that if she had a child, -and killed it, the child was yours?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell, with a gulp, stammered something about Bessie -having been a good girl before he met her. -</p> - -<p> -"But do you know <i>anything</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, no .... I can't say...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"My friend, you are doing that poor girl a cruel injustice." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was startled and looked up. -</p> - -<p> -"In your own mind you are finding her guilty before she has -been tried." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -"You are doing yourself an injustice, too. Even if the girl -committed this crime—I say <i>if</i>—<i>you</i> are not responsible for it." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell began to stammer again. "I .... I did wrong in -the first instance, Sir, and nothing but wrong...." -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -"God forbid!" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"No .... I cannot say...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell's pulse was beating high. He tried to say something -about his moral responsibility, but again the Governor cut -him short. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you think, Sir," said Stowell, "that since I...." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell muttered something about being afraid, and again the -Governor caught him up. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"There's Gell...." -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly there's Gell .... When the marriage was -broken off you didn't tell him anything, did you?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell shook his head. "How could I?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, how could you? And now he wishes you to sit, and, if -you don't, isn't he likely to suspect the reason?" -</p> - -<p> -"There .... there's Baldromma." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"There's the girl herself." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor made a turn across the room and then drew -up sharply. -</p> - -<p> -"There's myself, too. I suppose I deserve some -consideration?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Then go on with your duty—that's all I ask of you." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"There is somebody else, your Excellency." -</p> - -<p> -"Who else?" asked the Governor, laying down the pipe he -had taken up. -</p> - -<p> -"I hate to mention her in this connection—Fenella." -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella? Why, what on earth has Fenella...." -</p> - -<p> -And then Stowell told him. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -He had spoken with emotion, but the Governor, who had -recovered from his surprise, replied impatiently, -</p> - -<p> -"Aren't you crossing the bridge before you come to the river?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell made no answer, and at the next moment there was -the sound of carriage wheels coming up the drive. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"Victor, I have something to tell you," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -They were in the library. She was looking feverish; he was -feeling ashamed, embarrassed and afraid. -</p> - -<p> -"I have found out who was the friend of that poor girl." -</p> - -<p> -He gazed at her without speaking. -</p> - -<p> -"It will be a great shock to you—it was Alick Gell." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sorry, dear. I knew you would be unable to believe it. -But it's true—terribly true." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was breathless. -</p> - -<p> -"But my dear Fenella," he said, "this is a mistake. You are -drawing a false inference...." -</p> - -<p> -But Fenella only shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Cæsar Qualtrough?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What .... what about me?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella," he began (his breath was coming and going in -gusts), "who knows if the guilty man is Gell? It may be -somebody else." -</p> - -<p> -"Who else can it be?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You <i>will</i> sit, will you not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -And then she kissed him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -Back at Ballamoar, Stowell found the Deemster's clerk -waiting for him. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"God bless me, yes! <i>I</i> know Taubman," he told himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good Lord, yes! And what a mercy the case is not coming -before Taubman." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was Dan Baldromma. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0428"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT -<br /> -THE TRIAL -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Patrick Kelly! Charles Quiggin! Nancy Kegeen! John -Corlett! Cæsar Crow! Robert Quine! Elizabeth Corteen!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Quick, girl!" said the warder. "You don't want to keep the -Dempster waiting, do you?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Silence in Court!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"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: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"<i>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.</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Let the prisoners be brought in." -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The last was Bessie Collister and the Deemster paused -perceptibly when he came to her. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Put up your fall, Bessie." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Elizabeth Corteen, stand up." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie rose without embarrassment and fixed her eyes on the -Deemster. And then he charged her. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Not Guilty." -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -It was not until Stowell had stepped on to the bench that he -had realized what he had done for himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He did not recover from the shock of this feeling until the -Attorney-General began on the prosecution. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 -<i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>. 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. -</p> - -<p> -With obvious nervousness Gell rose to cross-examine the -witness. -</p> - -<p> -"How far is it from the prisoner's home to the <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"Half a mile, maybe." -</p> - -<p> -"What kind of road would you call it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Rough and thorny, most of it." -</p> - -<p> -Gell sat with a look of satisfaction, and the Deemster -leaned forward. -</p> - -<p> -"Constable," he said, "when you made your house-to-house -visitation did you go beyond the boundary of your parish?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is the boundary?" -</p> - -<p> -"The glen is the boundary—the western side of it, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"How near to the western boundary are the nearest houses in -the next parish?" -</p> - -<p> -"Four hundred yards, perhaps." -</p> - -<p> -"How many of them are there?" -</p> - -<p> -"Fifteen or twenty, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"Yet, though you visited the prisoner's home, which was -half-a-mile from the <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>, you did not visit—you were -not told to visit—the fifteen or twenty houses which were only four -hundred yards away?" -</p> - -<p> -"They were not in my parish, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -There was audible drawing of breath in court. Fenella, who -had been reaching forward, dropped back, and Gell's pale face -was smiling. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Gell, gathering strength but still agitated, rose again. -</p> - -<p> -"How long had the child lived?" -</p> - -<p> -"An hour or two, probably." -</p> - -<p> -"And how long had it been dead?" -</p> - -<p> -"Twenty-four to thirty hours at the outside." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"It certainly is not, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -Gell sat with a piteous smile of triumph on his pale face, and -the Deemster leaned forward again. -</p> - -<p> -"Doctor," he said, "you speak of applying the usual medical -tests—are they entirely reliable?" -</p> - -<p> -"They are not infallible, your Honour. They have been -known to fail." -</p> - -<p> -"Then this child may have breathed and yet not had a -separate existence?" -</p> - -<p> -"It may—it is just possible, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's so .... she may not, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>. -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. -</p> - -<p> -"What's mollag?" (Bridget's Manx had gone beyond the -Attorney, but the jurymen were smiling.) "Ask them -ones—<i>they</i> know." -</p> - -<p> -Gell, with a newspaper-cutting in his hand, rose to -cross-examine the old woman. -</p> - -<p> -"You and your husband are sub-tenants of the prisoner's -step-father, isn't that so?" -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly we are—you ought to know that much -yourself, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"I see you told the High Bailiff you were on bad terms with -your landlord." -</p> - -<p> -"Bad terms, is it? I wouldn't bemane myself with being on -any terms at all with the like." -</p> - -<p> -"He threatened to turn you out of your croft at Hollantide, -didn't he?" -</p> - -<p> -"He did, the dirt!" -</p> - -<p> -"And you said you'd see him thrown out before you?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's like I did, and it's like I will, too, for if your father, -the Spaker...." -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -"That," said Gell, in a ringing voice, "is precisely what -is suggested." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster intervened to pacify the old woman, and then -took her in hand himself. -</p> - -<p> -"Bridget," he said, "how far is it from your house on the -brews down to the <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>? Is it three or four hundred -yards, think you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Maybe it is. But it's yourself knows as well as I do, -your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"Is your sight still so good that you can see a woman to know -her at that distance?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, well, not so bad anyway. And then wasn't it as bright -as day, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Anybody I know? Recognise? Why not, your Honour?" -</p> - -<p> -"You know Cain the constable?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed I do, and his mother before him. A dacent man -enough, but stupid for all...." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, he is one of the three constables who are now standing -at this end of the jury-box—which of them is he?" -</p> - -<p> -"Which? Do you say which, your Honour?" said Bridget, -screwing up her wrinkled face. "Why, the off-one, surely." -</p> - -<p> -There was a burst of irrepressible laughter in court—Bridget -had chosen wrongly. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"At what time would that be?" asked Gell. -</p> - -<p> -"Two or three in the morning, I belave." -</p> - -<p> -"Then it would be still quite dark?" -</p> - -<p> -"I was carrying my lantern, I belave." -</p> - -<p> -"What was the prisoner doing when she passed you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Covering her eyes with shame, I belave, as well she -might be." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you did not see her face?" -</p> - -<p> -"I belave I did, though." -</p> - -<p> -"Believe! Believe! Did you or did you not—yes or no?" -</p> - -<p> -"I belave I did, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Skillicorne," said the Deemster, "you attach importance -to your belief, I see." -</p> - -<p> -The old man drew himself up, and answered in his preaching -tone, -</p> - -<p> -"It's the rock of my salvation, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"I .... I .... I belave it is, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And what did he give you?" -</p> - -<p> -"A .... a wisp of straw and a few good words, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you believe in that too—that a wisp of straw and a -few good words...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"She refused?" -</p> - -<p> -"She did, your Honour, and threatened violence, but she -became unconscious soon afterwards and then...." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -The Attorney-General shook his head helplessly, whereupon -the Deemster, with a severe face, turned back to the witness. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a qualified medical practitioner?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am," said the witness, straightening himself. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -The pugnacious mouth opened like a dying oyster. -</p> - -<p> -"Y-es, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"Therefore you did not examine her?" -</p> - -<p> -"N-o, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"And you know nothing of her condition?" -</p> - -<p> -"No——" -</p> - -<p> -"Stand down, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Attorney," said the Deemster quietly, "have you any -further evidence?" -</p> - -<p> -The Attorney, who had been whispering hotly to Hudgeon, -said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"The fool!" thought Stowell. But just at that moment the -clock of the Castle struck one, and the Governor said, -</p> - -<p> -"The Court will adjourn for luncheon and resume at two." -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>Justice is the most sacred thing on earth.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -His head dropped; he felt like a traitor. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You saw her day and night while she was at your house?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, yes, Sir, last thing at night and first thing in the -morning." -</p> - -<p> -"And you know nothing that conflicts with what she says—that -she never had a child and therefore could not have killed it?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed no, Sir, nothing whatever." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie was always a good girl, Sir. It was lies the -gentleman was putting on her." -</p> - -<p> -"Is the prisoner your husband's daughter?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, Sir," the old woman faltered, "his step-daughter." -</p> - -<p> -"Is it true that her step-father has always been hard on her?" -</p> - -<p> -The old woman hesitated, then faltered again, "Middling -hard anyway." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, if you plaze, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"It's a lie—a scandalous lie!" cried somebody at the back of -the court. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"A respectable man's character is being sworn away," cried -Dan. "Put me in the box and I'll swear it's a lie." -</p> - -<p> -In the tumult that followed the Deemster raised his hand. -</p> - -<p> -"This Court has been fenced," he said severely, "and if -anybody attempts to brawl here...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Behave yourself!" -</p> - -<p> -"Give me a chance to save my character and fix the disgrace of -these bad doings where it belongs." -</p> - -<p> -"I give you fair warning...." -</p> - -<p> -"Put the saddle on the right horse, Dempster. He's near -enough to yourself, anyway." -</p> - -<p> -"Silence!" -</p> - -<p> -"Why doesn't he come out into the open, not hide behind the -skirts of a girl with a by-child?" -</p> - -<p> -"Remove that man to the cells, and keep him there until the -trial is over." -</p> - -<p> -"What?" cried Dan, in a loud voice. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I think your father was the late John Corteen, the -Methodist?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"He was a good man, wasn't he?" -</p> - -<p> -"As good a man as ever walked the world, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"He had a reputation for strict truthfulness—isn't that so?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed it is, Sir. The old Dempster would take his word -without asking him to swear to it." -</p> - -<p> -"You were much attached to him, were you not?" -</p> - -<p> -The old woman wiped her eyes, which were wet but shining. -</p> - -<p> -"That's truth enough, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And now he's dead and I daresay you sometimes pray for -the time when you'll see him again?" -</p> - -<p> -"Morning and night, every day of my life since I closed the -man's dying eyes for him." -</p> - -<p> -The advocate turned his gleaming eyes to the Jury and the side -of his powerful face to the witness. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a Methodist yourself, aren't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Such as I am, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Inspector, see to the witness quickly," cried the Deemster. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -When the commotion subsided, Hudgeon, with a face of scarlet, -appealed to the Court: -</p> - -<p> -"Your Honour, I ask your protection against this outrageous -slander." -</p> - -<p> -"Since you appeal to me," said the Deemster (whose own face -was aflame), "I can only say that you deserved every word of it." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you adhere to your plea?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed I do. Why shouldn't I?" said Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly I say so," said Bessie. "I don't know what you -are talking of." -</p> - -<p> -"Constable," said the Attorney, turning to Cain, "open -your parcel." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know what this is?" asked the Attorney, holding -up a portion of a white silk scarf. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I know nothing about it." -</p> - -<p> -"You have never seen it before?" -</p> - -<p> -"I know nothing about it." -</p> - -<p> -The Attorney-General put the scarf outstretched on the table -in front of him, and held up a narrower strip of the same material. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know anything about this, then?" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie gasped and was silent for a moment. Then she said -again, but with a stammer, -</p> - -<p> -"I know nothing about it." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you swear that it never belonged to you?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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—<i>Bessie</i>." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie was speechless for another moment. Then she said, -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie is a common name, isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -Bessie became dizzy and confused. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't account for it. I know nothing about it," she said. -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster, who was breathing with difficulty, asked -the Attorney what he suggested by the exhibits. The -Attorney answered, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Give her time, your Honour. She may have some -explanation." -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster signified assent, and then Gell, stepping closer -to the witness-box, said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The advocate was losing himself, yet nobody protested. At -length Bessie, with the wild eyes of a captured animal, broke into -violent cries. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, why are you all torturing me? Wasn't it enough to -torture my mother? I know nothing about it." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He paused for a moment and then (with difficulty maintaining -an equal voice) he added, -</p> - -<p> -"It sometimes happens that a young woman in the position of -the accused mistakes concealment for the much more serious -crime of murder." -</p> - -<p> -He paused again and then said, -</p> - -<p> -"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.'" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you going down to her as the Governor suggested?" -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot! I dare not!" he replied. And then, as if struck -by a sudden thought he said, "But won't you go?" -</p> - -<p> -"You wish me to speak to her instead of you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you? If she has anything to say she'll say it more -freely to a woman." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella looked at him for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, I'll go if you are willing to take the consequences." -</p> - -<p> -"The consequences? To me? That's nothing—nothing -whatever. Go to her, for God's sake. I'll wait here for you." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, we can only go on with it. There's nothing else to do -now. Unfortunate—damnably unfortunate!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell mumbled some reply and then said he thought Gell -would have been with Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -"I daren't go," said Gell. "But Fenella has gone instead -of me." -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell felt as if something were creeping between his skin and -his flesh. Fenella and Bessie—those two and the dread secret! -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"Well, let us hope...." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, that is all we can do." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0429"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE -<br /> -THE TWO WOMEN—THE TWO MEN -</h3> - -<p> -On being taken back to her cell Bessie had burst into a fit -of hysteria. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"And where is...." -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Gell? Upstairs. He sent me down to speak to you." -</p> - -<p> -"I won't speak to anyone. They're all alike. They're only -torturing me." -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"I won't explain anything. Why can't you leave me be?" -</p> - -<p> -"You heard what the Deemster said, Bessie? Tell the truth; -the whole truth; it will be best for you; best for everybody." -</p> - -<p> -After that Bessie became calmer, and then Fenella (little -knowing what she was doing for herself) pleaded with the girl -to confess. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't ask me. I can't tell you," cried Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella tried again, still more tenderly. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -But still Bessie cried, "I can't! I can't!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, why do you torture me?" cried Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie shuddered and laid hold of Fenella by both hands. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie was breathing rapidly, and Fenella (still unconscious -of the fearful game the unseen powers were playing with her) -followed up her advantage. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly Bessie dropped to her knees at Fenella's feet -and cried, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Then it was not Mr. Gell who took you into his rooms when -your father shut you out?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! Would to God it had been!" -</p> - -<p> -"Then who was it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't ask me that. I cannot answer you." -</p> - -<p> -"Who was it? Tell me, tell me." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't! I can't!" -</p> - -<p> -"Was it in Ramsey—his chambers?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Is he? .... is he anything to me?" -</p> - -<p> -Bessie dropped her head still deeper into Fenella's lap and -made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -Bessie, who had begun to realise what she had done, tried to -take her hand, but Fenella drew back and cried, -</p> - -<p> -"Don't touch me!" -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But she herself .... her hopes gone, her love wasted.... -</p> - -<p> -Fenella bursted into a flood of tears. And then Bessie (the -two women had changed places now) began to comfort her. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sorry. I didn't think what I was doing. Don't cry." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"He <i>will</i> forgive me, will he not?" -</p> - -<p> -She was like a child again, and Fenella found a cruel relief -in humouring her. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes," she answered. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt, no doubt," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"She has confessed." -</p> - -<p> -"She had a child?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"It was born dead?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, she killed it." -</p> - -<p> -"God in heaven!" said Gell, and it seemed to Fenella that at -that moment the man's heart had broken. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"God in heaven!" said Gell again, and he turned to leave her. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you going to do in the morning?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know .... yet." -</p> - -<p> -"Where are you going to now?" -</p> - -<p> -"To .... Ballamoar." -</p> - -<p> -Again she knew that she ought to say more, but again she -could not. -</p> - -<p> -Gell was making for the gate, and Fenella, bankrupt in heart -herself, wanted to comfort him. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Gell," she said, "I have been doing you a great -injustice. I ask you to forgive me." -</p> - -<p> -With his hand on the bolt he turned his broken face to her. -</p> - -<p> -"That's nothing—nothing now," he said. -</p> - -<p> -And again she heard "God in heaven!" as the gate closed -behind him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, here you are, dear!" -</p> - -<p> -It was Janet who had heard the hum of Stowell's car on the -drive and had come hurrying out to meet him. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella! She must know everything by this time. How was -he to meet her eyes in the morning? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Let me in!" -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"Go back to the door—I'll open it," he called through the -closed window, and then he walked to the porch. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I had to come and tell you. She's guilty. She has -confessed," he said. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Did she say .... who...." -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"No?" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell felt a boundless relief, yet a sense of sickening -duplicity. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Choking with hypocrisy, Stowell found himself pleading for -the girl. Perhaps .... who could say? .... perhaps she -had been more sinned against than sinning. -</p> - -<p> -"Then why didn't she tell me?" said Gell. His voice was -like a wail. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"But if she had only told me," said Gell. "If she had only -been straight with me!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Advise her to amend her plea and cast herself on the mercy -of the Court." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, that is the only proper course now," said Stowell, and -then Gell rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, good-night," said Gell, and turning up the collar of -his coat, he went off in the darkness and the rain. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -Joshua Scarff, in his coloured spectacles, was waiting at the -door to the Deemster's room. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm afraid your Honour is not well this morning," said -Joshua. -</p> - -<p> -"A little headache, that's all," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -But he had stumbled on the threshold (a bad omen) and was -wondering what would happen before he came out again. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0430"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY -<br /> -THE VERDICT -</h3> - -<p> -When the Court resumed Gell rose, with a haggard face, to -make an announcement. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Then Gell rose again and said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It is only natural," said Gell, "that she should feel shame -at having to take back what she said yesterday." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"The Court has nothing left to it but to go on to judgment," -said the Attorney-General. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all," said the Attorney. -</p> - -<p> -"In that case," said Gell, "I will ask the lady who received -the prisoner's confession to speak on her behalf—Miss Stanley." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Please tell the Court, as nearly as possible in her own -words, what the prisoner told you," said Gell. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Does the prisoner deny," he said, "that when she returned -home she told her mother of her condition?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, her mother knew nothing about it." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, she does, and if a court of men cannot believe it, a -court of women would, because...." -</p> - -<p> -But the Attorney-General, with a look of triumph, sat down -quickly, and Fenella, flushing up to her flaming eyes, stopped -suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -There was another moment of deep silence in Court, and then -Gell, who had to struggle with his emotion, rose to re-examine. -</p> - -<p> -"Does the prisoner say that when she killed her child she did -so unconsciously and under the influence of fear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, under the influence of fear—fear of her step-father who -had behaved like a brute to her." -</p> - -<p> -"Does she think that, however lamentable her act, she was -moved to it by pardonable motives?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not pardonable motives merely," said Fenella, flaming up -again, "but nobly unselfish ones." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -There were some moments of uneasy silence, and then the -Attorney-General rose for the last time. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Deemster paused (Gell had risen and was seen crushing -his way out of Court); then he continued, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"The Court agrees," said the Governor, and the jurymen -trooped out. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -In a small unventilated room overlooking the Keep the Jury -considered their share of the verdict. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Why should we?" said another, a tall landowner with a -bad reputation about women. "She killed her child. Let her -swing, I say." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Chut! That was only an after-thought," said a fourth—a -little bald-headed English grocer. -</p> - -<p> -"Still and for all we know what Dan Baldromma is," said the -butcher, "an infidel who believes neither in God nor the devil." -</p> - -<p> -"He's devil enough himself," said the grocer. "His father -was the 'angman." -</p> - -<p> -"That was his uncle," said the butcher. -</p> - -<p> -"No, but his father. They called him Dan the Black, and -after the 'anging of Patrick Kelly of Kentraugh...." -</p> - -<p> -"Question! Question!" cried the Town Commissioner. -"Let's keep to the point, gentlemen." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But we can't, man. Didn't you hear what the Deemster -said?" -</p> - -<p> -"Then let the 'uzzy 'ang." -</p> - -<p> -"Are we to recommend the girl to mercy—that's the question," -said the Town Commissioner. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"If we show mercy to women of this sort we'll only encourage -them in their bad conduct," said the landowner. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"A man isn't always filling his house with by-children -anyway," said the landowner. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said the butcher, "but he is sometimes filling other -people's though." -</p> - -<p> -"That's personal, and I won't stand it," cried the landowner, -and then there were loud shouts with much smiting of the table. -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of the tumult a quiet voice was heard to say, -</p> - -<p> -"Hadn't we better lay this matter before the Lord, brothers?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, by God, I'll murder him," he thought. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Be calm," said Fenella, "and I will explain everything." -</p> - -<p> -After awhile Bessie regained her composure and then she -asked for forgiveness. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Besides," she said, "the jury will recommend you to mercy, -and then the Judges will exercise their discretionary power to -reduce your punishment." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie's eyes began to shine. -</p> - -<p> -"You must really forgive me .... And Alick—do you -think Alick will forgive me too?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, when he sees that what you did was done out of your -love for him." -</p> - -<p> -"How good you are! .... And shall we be able to leave -the Isle of Man and go away somewhere?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps .... some day." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella's humiliation was abject. "When we go back to -Court," she said, "you must be brave, whatever happens." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you let me hold your hand?" said Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -And Fenella, scarcely able to speak, answered, -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -And then Fenella! Her voice was ringing in his ears still: -</p> - -<p> -"Shame on him! Let no good man own him for a friend! -Let no good woman take him for a husband!" -</p> - -<p> -"And what will be the end?" he asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"The Jury are ready to return to Court, your Honour." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The Jurymen filed back. The Clerk of the Rolls read out their -names and then asked for their formal verdict. -</p> - -<p> -"You find the prisoner Guilty, according to the instructions -of the Court?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, yes, guilty enough, poor soul," said the foreman (it was -the northside farmer), "but lave her to the Lord, we say." -</p> - -<p> -There was a titter at this quaint finding, but it was quickly -suppressed. Then the Clerk of the Rolls said, -</p> - -<p> -"I assume that means that you recommend her to mercy?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie made no reply, and Stowell, who felt Fenella's eyes -fixed on him, continued, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Bessie swayed a little, as if dizzy, looked round at Fenella, and -then turned back to the bench and shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Go on, for God's sake!" -</p> - -<p> -At length, in a voice so low as to be only just heard even in -the breathless silence, he said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The tears were rolling down Bessie's cheeks, but Stowell saw -that she was still looking up at him with the same expression. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Remove the prisoner," said the Governor sharply, and at the -next moment the constables were carrying the girl out of Court -screaming and sobbing. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind, Bessie! I would rather be you than your Judge." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p> -"The Deemster!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF FOURTH BOOK -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0531"></a></p> - -<h3> -<i>FIFTH BOOK</i> -<br /> -THE REPARATION -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE -<br /> -"VICTOR! VICTOR! MY VICTOR!" -</h3> - -<p> -"Good heavens, how was I to know that things would turn -out so badly?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"But Fenella?" -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"You heard what she said, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"All the same I am bound to say the whole thing has been -unfortunate—damnably unfortunate!" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell continued to sit for some minutes in his robes after the -Governor had left him. Joshua Scarff came with a glass -of brandy. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Who else?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Gell. The gentleman seems to have gone clean off it, -Sir. It's the loss of his case, I suppose." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Set him at liberty at once," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Before your Honour leaves the Castle?" -</p> - -<p> -"Instantly." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Pity! Great pity!" said Joshua, as he helped Stowell to -unrobe. "But such connections always begin to end badly." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"They've been putting the young colt into the shafts too -soon—that's what it is, I tell thee." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -Even though he were in the wrong! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -And then—what would happen then? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Whatever Victor Stowell had done, what right had she to denounce -him? She of all others! In open Court too! -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Say I'm unwell and can't see him," she cried from her bed. -</p> - -<p> -But at the next moment she was up and whispering at the door, -</p> - -<p> -"Show Mr. Stowell into the library and tell him I shall be -down presently." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -But she did not move, and at last came his voice, humble and -broken, and thrilling through and through her: -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -She did not answer; she could not; and again, after another -moment of silence, he said, -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella, I have come to ask you to forgive me." -</p> - -<p> -She wanted to burst out crying, and to prevent herself from -doing so she broke into a flood of wrath. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He did not reply for a moment, and then came the same -humble, unsteady voice, saying, -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt you are quite right, quite justified, but if you knew -everything—that I could not help myself—that it was the -law...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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.... -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -There was silence again for a moment and then Stowell said, -</p> - -<p> -"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.... -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -He dropped his head still lower under the lash of Fenella's scorn. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Outside the sun was setting. A dull ray from it was falling -on his haggard face and brushing her bronze-brown hair. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell could bear no more. Stepping forward, he laid hold -of Fenella by the shoulders, and approaching his face to her face -he said, -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Loved me!" cried Fenella, between a laugh and a sob. And -then in the wild delirium of the sheer woman, she said, -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -"Coward! Hypocrite! Let me go!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -But no, her pride would not permit her to do that either, and -at the next instant the car was moving away. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"My goodness, Fenella! What has happened?" -</p> - -<p> -In the plaintive voice of a crying child, Fenella answered, -</p> - -<p> -"He has gone. I have driven him away." -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p> -"Victor! Victor! My Victor!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0532"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO -<br /> -THE VOICE OF THE SEA -</h3> - -<p> -"Forgive you? Never while that girl lies in prison as the -consequence of your sin." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind, woman! It will be all set right at the judgment. -And then the man will be found out and punished, too!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell made no answer. Any poor creature could insult -him now. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. I can't say. But .... it doesn't matter -now." -</p> - -<p> -Janet gathered up her patterns and went out of the room -without a word. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"This way, Deemster. Always room enough for you." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -This led to talk about Gell as the girl's fellow-sinner. -</p> - -<p> -"Shocking! But it's not the first time he has been mixed up -with a woman." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell felt an intolerable shame at Gell's undeserved obloquy -and his own unmerited glory, but he could say nothing. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Hush!" -</p> - -<p> -The Speaker was in the next compartment. -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -At Court that day, and the day following, he found it hard -to concentrate. At one moment an advocate said, -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps your Honour is not well this morning?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no! I heard you. You were saying...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"God bless you, Deemster! May you live long and every -day of your life be a happy one." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Never while that girl...." But wait! Only wait! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know it's six days since you were at Government -House, my boy? What is Fenella to think of you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Has she .... has she been asking for me, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, no, not to say asking, but still .... six days, -you know." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But the Jury recommended the girl to mercy, and her -sentence will be commuted," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh? Eh? Then you haven't heard what has happened?" -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"The Governor has reported against the recommendation." -</p> - -<p> -"Reported against it?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -It was Doctor Clucas, who, sent for by Janet, had arrived at -Ballamoar before Stowell got out of bed in the morning. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But after a while a terrible temptation came to him. "Why -can't I leave things alone?" he asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -What then? <i>He</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -"Then why can't I leave things alone?" he thought. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>Clagh-ny-Dooiney</i>. 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. -</p> - -<p> -This story of the old mother's developing insanity rested -heavily on Stowell's heart and went far to shake his resolution. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Deemster, have you remembered this case of Bessie Collister -in your prayers?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Is it possible that I can stand by and see her given over to -the hangman?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"He let me die! He killed me! He is my assassin!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Then came a shock. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Something surged in his throat; something blinded his eyes. -But after a moment he threw up his head and walked -firmly forward. -</p> - -<p> -"Wait! Only wait! We'll see!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0533"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE -<br /> -THE HEART OF A WOMAN -</h3> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Was it Stowell I saw driving towards the mountain road as -I came up?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps it was," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"Then why didn't he stay to dinner?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because .... I told him to go." -</p> - -<p> -"Why?" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella gulped down the lump that was rising in her throat -and said, -</p> - -<p> -"I have been deceived in him. He is not the man I supposed -him to be." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -After a struggle, and many shameful tears, she went back to -Castle Rushen, little knowing what a scorching flame she was to -pass through. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, he's good, miss—he's real good for all." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you say that, Bessie? After he has betrayed you?" -said Fenella, -</p> - -<p> -"Betrayed? I wouldn't say that, miss." -</p> - -<p> -"But he .... he took you to his rooms?" -</p> - -<p> -"What else could he do, miss? All the inns were shut and it -was raining, and I had nothing in my pocket." -</p> - -<p> -"But .... having taken advantage of your homelessness -and poverty, he afterwards cast you off?" -</p> - -<p> -A mysterious wave of injured vanity struggled with Bessie's -shame and she said, -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed he didn't, then. He wanted to marry me." -</p> - -<p> -"Marry you .... did you say marry...." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, he did, and that was why he sent me to school." -</p> - -<p> -"But afterwards .... afterwards he changed his mind and -turned you off .... I mean turned you over to somebody else?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed no," said Bessie, with her chin raised. "It was me -that gave him up after I found I was fonder of Alick." -</p> - -<p> -Breathing hard, scarcely able to speak, with the hot blood -rushing to her cheeks, Fenella compelled herself to go on. -</p> - -<p> -"Did he know then that you...." -</p> - -<p> -"No, miss, and neither did I, nor Alick, nor anybody." -</p> - -<p> -"And when .... when was it that you went...." -</p> - -<p> -"To his rooms in Ramsey? The first Saturday in August, -miss." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella went home, happy, miserable, tingling with shame and -yet thrilling with love also. Stowell's victim had brought her -heart back to him. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Janet Curphey is here to see you, miss," said the maid. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At length (Miss Green, who had been sitting at tea with her, -having gone) Janet braced herself, and said, not without a tremor, -</p> - -<p> -"I've come about Victor." -</p> - -<p> -"Then he has told you?" said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed he hasn't, and you needn't either, because I know." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella drew her hand away and dropped her head. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no! I see now that the girl in Castle Rushen...." -</p> - -<p> -"The girl? I'm not thinking about the girl. Of course she is -to blame. But is there nobody else to blame also?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who else?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Janet!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I'm telling you the truth, dear. That's what I've -come for." -</p> - -<p> -"But it all happened before I returned to the Island." -</p> - -<p> -"That's why. If you hadn't stayed away so long it wouldn't -have happened at all." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella was struggling to control herself. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella was smothering her mouth in her handkerchief. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"But I loved him all the time, Janet." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella's eyes were down again. -</p> - -<p> -"But that's not all. Not content with deserting him for so -many years, you must try to disgrace him also." -</p> - -<p> -"Janet!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I saw what you said at the trial." -</p> - -<p> -"But nobody knows whom I...." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"I was so shocked. I thought he wasn't the man I had taken -him for." -</p> - -<p> -"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>I</i> -call being a wife, if you ask me." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella could bear up no longer. She flung her arms about -Janet's neck and buried her face in her breast. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Tell him to come back to me." -</p> - -<p> -And then Janet went home with shining eyes. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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?" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -But no, that was too much like threatening him, so she -began again— -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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...." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -No, that was wrong, too. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"VICTOR,—Don't you think I have been punished -enough? It has been very hard for me, yet I love you -still...." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"Vic,—I am so lonely. Come to me. Your -broken-hearted—FENELLA." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -But all her letters, with their cries and supplications, were -torn up and thrown into the fire. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, "<i>HOME SECRETARY</i>." When her -father had opened it she said, as if casually, -</p> - -<p> -"Any news yet about that poor thing in Castle Rushen?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, there's something here." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course she's pardoned?" -</p> - -<p> -"On the contrary, her death-sentence has been confirmed." -</p> - -<p> -"Confirmed?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, she's to die, and it only remains for me to fix the date -of the execution." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"No, he can have done nothing—nothing whatever." -</p> - -<p> -Then came a shock to her also. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -When she got out of the carriage her heart was burning with -the pangs of mingled love and rage. -</p> - -<p> -"If that girl dies in prison there shall never be anything -between us—never," she thought. -</p> - -<p> -But deep in her heart, almost unknown to herself, there was -a still more poignant cry, -</p> - -<p> -"He does not care for me—he cannot." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0534"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR -<br /> -THE MAN AND THE LAW -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, you've come at last! But you have just missed Fenella. -She has gone to Castletown—that girl again, I suppose." -</p> - -<p> -"I know. I saw her. That's the matter I've come to -speak about." -</p> - -<p> -"So? Oblige me then by walking here so that I may keep an -eye on the gardener." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell winced, but stepped to and fro on the path by the -Governor's side while in a low tone he broached his business. -</p> - -<p> -"Deemster Taubman told me at Tynwald that you had -reported against the Jury's recommendation." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"I thought perhaps you would permit me to explain the exact -legal position." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is fifty years at least since the prisoner has been -executed on this island for that crime." -</p> - -<p> -"Fifty, is it?" -</p> - -<p> -The Governor blew his light blue smoke into the lighter blue -air and watched it rising. -</p> - -<p> -"Deemster Taubman seems to think that a prisoner who has -wilfully taken life is necessarily a murderer. That is wrong, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Wrong?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And is there any ground for thinking that this girl was not -responsible?" said the Governor. -</p> - -<p> -"Every ground, Sir. No woman in her position ever was or -can be responsible." -</p> - -<p> -"No? .... Gardener, don't you think those tulips...." -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Besides—what?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell breathed heavily and then said, -</p> - -<p> -"There are exceptional circumstances in this case which call -for merciful treatment." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor looked at Stowell for a moment and thought. -</p> - -<p> -"He's ill, and he's trying to unload his conscience." -</p> - -<p> -Then he said aloud, -</p> - -<p> -"So you've come to ask me to...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor was still smoking leisurely and keeping his eye -on his flower-beds. -</p> - -<p> -"Gardener, don't you think that bed of geraniums...." -he began, but Stowell could bear no more. -</p> - -<p> -"Good God, Sir, isn't this matter of sufficient importance to -merit your attention?" -</p> - -<p> -The Governor turned sharply upon him, threw away his -half-smoked cigar and said, -</p> - -<p> -"Come this way." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Look at that." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell saw at a glance what it was and uttered a cry of -astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -"Then it's done." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it's done. And now sit down and listen to me." -</p> - -<p> -But Stowell continued to stand with the paper crinkling in -his trembling fingers. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was silent. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Still Stowell remained silent. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was trembling but still silent. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell's fingers were contracting over the paper that crinkled -in his hand. At length he threw it on the desk and said, -</p> - -<p> -"Your Excellency, if you carry out that sentence you will be -committing a crime—a monstrous judicial crime." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor returned the paper to his desk, and then rose and -said, with a ring of sarcasm in his voice, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you say?" -</p> - -<p> -"I say it shall never be carried out." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because <i>I</i> shall prevent it." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor rose. His face was red, his throat had swelled; -his lips were compressed. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean that you will go over my head...." -</p> - -<p> -"I do...." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor brushed Stowell aside in making for the bell. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"But, God forgive me, I could do nothing else—nothing -whatever." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -Fenella found that the tragic news had reached Castle Rushen -before her. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -But would he do it? She had deceived him twice. And then -his sisters had always been trying to drag him away from her. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"The suspense was the worst. I shall be glad when it's all -over," said Bessie. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll write for you," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"And will you give the letter into his own hands, miss, so -that his sisters may not see it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll try, dear." -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Bessie paused. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that all?" asked Fenella, in a husky whisper. -</p> - -<p> -"Not quite," said Bessie, and she began again. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Bessie signed the letter, filling up the remaining space with -crosses, and then wrote with her own hand— -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"P.S.—It's a weak to-day, so if anything is to be done -there's no time to lose." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Why hadn't he? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -Hardly had she reached her room when her father followed -her into it. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you know that Stowell has been here?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. What did he come for?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella tried to conceal the joy that was rising within her. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you think he intends to do?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor strode across the room in his wrath, and then -suddenly drew up on seeing that Fenella was smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"But I see who is the cause of the man's insane conduct," -he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Who?" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"But father...." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't talk to me," said the Governor, and with blazing eyes -he swept out of the room. -</p> - -<p> -Then Victor <i>had</i> done something! He <i>did</i> care for her! And -now he was going to take some great risk to save the life of the -girl in prison. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0535"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE -<br /> -"AND GOD MADE MAN OF THE DUST OF THE GROUND" -</h3> - -<p> -Stowell had travelled far by this time. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"But what am I to do now?" he asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Then what can I do?" he thought. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Then the law under which she has been condemned is a -crime," he thought. -</p> - -<p> -This terrified him. All his inherited instinct of reverence for -the justice and majesty of the law revolted. -</p> - -<p> -"The law a crime! Good heavens, what am I thinking about?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"If a law is a crime it ought to be broken," he told himself. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"But who is to break it?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -When he reached this point on his dark way he was horrified. -</p> - -<p> -"What? A Judge break the law!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing! Nothing!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"And now go home, dear children, and have your suppers and -get to bed. Home, sweet home, you know!" -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Comfort every sufferer,<br /> - Watching late in pain,<br /> - Those who plan some evil<br /> - From their sin restrain.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said the Bishop, settling himself in his seat. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you've heard the news, Deemster?" -</p> - -<p> -He produced a small evening newspaper. -</p> - -<p> -"That poor young person in Castle Rushen is to be executed -after all! Terrible, isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell bent his head. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell, nursing the fires of his rebellion, hardly heard the -running stream of commonplace. -</p> - -<p> -"And then Holy Wedlock! I always say that every act of -carnal transgression is a sin against the marriage altar." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"And then think of the poor soul herself! It may be best for -her too! God knows to what depths she might have descended!" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell wanted to burst out on the Bishop, but a secret voice -within him whispered, "Hold your tongue! Say nothing!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell's heart was afire. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"It's a wicked shame! But you'll be with the poor bogh at the -end and that will comfort her." -</p> - -<p> -A kind of savage pride had taken possession of Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Not yet! Not yet!" he thought. -</p> - -<p> -The law was wrong, therefore it was right to resist the law. -It was more than right—it was a kind of sacred duty. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -From that time forward the Judge went about like a criminal. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Not much chance of a prisoner escaping from a place like -this, Mr. Vondy." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"We'll leave her alone, Mr. Vondy. How is she now, poor -creature?" -</p> - -<p> -"Wonderful! That cheerful and smart you wouldn't believe, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then she doesn't know...." -</p> - -<p> -"'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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -With another spasm of hope, Stowell returned to Castletown. -</p> - -<p> -"Give me your lantern, and let me wander about by myself, -Mr. Vondy." -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed I will, Sir. Your Honour knows the Castle as well -as I do." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You haven't many prisoners in the Castle now, Mr. Vondy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, no! Didn't your Honour discharge all but one at the -last General Gaol?" -</p> - -<p> -"And not much company?" -</p> - -<p> -"Only Willie Shimmin, the turnkey, and he's a drunken gommeral, -always wanting out, and never sure of coming back at all." -</p> - -<p> -"What about your female warder?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mrs. Mylrea? A dying woman, Sir. Not been here since -the trial, and if it wasn't for Miss Stanley...." -</p> - -<p> -"Does she come often?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nearly every day now, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -At that moment there was the clang of a bell. -</p> - -<p> -"There she is, I'll go bail," said the jailer, and snatching a -big key from the keyboard he turned to go. -</p> - -<p> -In the collapse of his better nature Stowell was afraid to meet -Fenella, knowing well she would see through him. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was done! Light had fallen on him at last. Now he knew -how Bessie Collister was to escape from Castle Rushen. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But wait! Only wait!" he thought. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He was almost happy. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -The fish auction went on. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, min, what do you say to forty mease from the <i>Mona</i>? -Thirty-five shillin'! Thank you, Mr. Flynn! Any incrase on -thirty-five?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Where are you going to when you leave Peel, Captain?" -</p> - -<p> -"To Castletown, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And from there?" -</p> - -<p> -"To wherever the dust" (the money) "looks brightest." -</p> - -<p> -"May I come aboard, Captain? I have something to say -to you." -</p> - -<p> -"Shure!" -</p> - -<p> -After another look to right and left, Stowell stepped on to -the steamer and followed the Captain to his cabin. -</p> - -<p> -When he came on deck, half-an-hour later, his face was flushed. -</p> - -<p> -"Then it's settled, Captain?" -</p> - -<p> -"Take the world aisy—it's done, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"At what time will it be high water on Sunday night?" -</p> - -<p> -"Elivin o'clock, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"You'll sail immediately your passengers come aboard?" -</p> - -<p> -"The minit they put foot on deck, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"What about the harbour-master?" -</p> - -<p> -"Him and me are same as brothers." -</p> - -<p> -"And the turnkey?" -</p> - -<p> -"Willie Shimmin? He's got a petticoat at the 'Manx Arms.'" -</p> - -<p> -"You have no doubt you can do it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Divil a doubt in the world, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -"No matter! I must face it out," thought Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"We wish you to allow a plain-clothes man to go about with -you for the next few days." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was startled. -</p> - -<p> -"No, certainly not. It is quite unnecessary," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, if you say so it's all right, Sir. Still, with a madman -about, who may make a murderous attack on you...." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is he now?" -</p> - -<p> -"In his chambers." -</p> - -<p> -"Good-morning, Colonel!" said Stowell, and before the Chief -Constable had replied he was gone. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0536"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX -<br /> -OUT OF THE DEPTHS -</h3> - -<p> -Alick Gell, also, had travelled far. -</p> - -<p> -After his temporary detention at Castletown, he had returned -to Douglas in a frenzy. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, now," he thought, and he closed the gates to give -himself time. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Who's there?" -</p> - -<p> -But Gell made no answer, and at the next moment Stowell -was back in his seat and gliding up the drive. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Alick, let me in!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The old man sat down heavily with his stick between his knees, -and his trembling hands on its ebony handle. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Put me away?" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you understand?—the asylum." -</p> - -<p> -"He doesn't know, father, and neither do you...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What is that, father?" -</p> - -<p> -Gell had expected the usual storm and his father's emotion was -moving him deeply. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Alick drew back and his lips tightened. "This is a trick to -get me to desert Bessie," he thought. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't do it," he said, and he pushed back the old man's -trembling hand. -</p> - -<p> -The Speaker fixed his red eyes on his son, and said, -</p> - -<p> -"Alick, I must tell you something. I've heard on good -authority that they are going to hang that girl." -</p> - -<p> -"They can't. Some of them would like to, but they can't." -</p> - -<p> -"They can and they will, I tell you." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I'll .... I'll murder...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't, father, I can't." -</p> - -<p> -The old man passed his hand over his bald head and in a low -voice he said, -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -Gell felt as if his heart were breaking. -</p> - -<p> -"But I can't, I can't!" -</p> - -<p> -"You mean you won't?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, I won't." -</p> - -<p> -The old man's voice thickened—the storm was coming. -</p> - -<p> -"And for the sake of this woman who killed her brat...." -</p> - -<p> -"Call her what you like. I'll stay here until she comes out -of prison, and then .... then I'll marry her." -</p> - -<p> -"You fool! You damned heartless fool! God forgive me -for bringing such a fool into the world." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Look here, I'll give you one more chance." -</p> - -<p> -He took the stout envelope out of his breast pocket again and -flung it on to Alick's desk. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -Frightened by what his father had said about the intention of -the Chief Constable to have him arrested as insane, Gell stayed -indoors altogether. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Meantime, without food or drink, he was travelling fast -towards the borderland of the desert realm of Insanity, with its -cruelly-beautiful mirages. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -"<i>Castle Rushen Prison—Number 7.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At that moment, having parted from the Chief Constable, -Stowell was driving down the street. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He heard a step on the stair (a man's step this time) and then -a firm knock at his door. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -The knock was repeated. -</p> - -<p> -"Go away!" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -"Alick!" -</p> - -<p> -"Go away!" -</p> - -<p> -"I have something to say to you." -</p> - -<p> -"Go away, I tell you." -</p> - -<p> -"But I have something to tell you." -</p> - -<p> -"There's only one thing you can tell me. Is it true—is she -to die?" -</p> - -<p> -"It .... it is so appointed." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I have well deserved it." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Then it's true—I'm mad." -</p> - -<p> -But after another moment he was up and hurrying into the -next room for a sponge and a basin of water. -</p> - -<p> -"It's nothing! Nothing at all," said Stowell. "See, it has -stopped already. And now sit down and listen." -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes later they were sitting side by side on the -sofa—Gell sniffling, Stowell talking quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"Alick!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie is waiting for you. She thinks you are trying to -obtain her pardon." -</p> - -<p> -"I know. She has written. But what can <i>I</i> do? Nothing!" -</p> - -<p> -"If <i>I</i> can help her to escape from Castle Rushen will you take -her away from the island?" -</p> - -<p> -Gell's eyes glistened. "Only give me the chance," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"She could never come back. Therefore you could never come -back either." -</p> - -<p> -"What do I care?" -</p> - -<p> -"You would have to give up everything—your inheritance, -your family, your....!" -</p> - -<p> -"I .... I can't help that." -</p> - -<p> -"You are sure you would never regret the sacrifice?" -</p> - -<p> -"Never! Only show me the way...." -</p> - -<p> -"I will," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you say that, Victor—you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Listen." -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"But can it be done? Can you get Bessie out of the Castle?" -</p> - -<p> -"I've counted every chance," said Stowell. "Whatever -happens, I must not fail." -</p> - -<p> -"What a good fellow...." began Gell, but Stowell -dropped his head and hurried on with his story. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! I've enough of my own—see," said Gell, and he -showed the bundle of banknotes given to him by his father. -</p> - -<p> -"Your father gave you that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, to pay my way to America." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I must see you again to-morrow night in some secret place. -Where shall it be?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not the Miss Browns' at Derby Haven? They'll hold -their tongues. They owe me something." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, eight o'clock, Sunday night," said Stowell, and -he rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -"What a good fellow...." began Gell again, but Stowell -looked at him and he stopped. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"After all, the Governor knew what he was doing," they -told themselves. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Then the sash of a window went up with a bang and his -father's voice came in a husky roar through the night, -</p> - -<p> -"Who's that?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0537"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN -<br /> -THE ESCAPE -</h3> - -<p> -Next day was Sunday. It was a blind day at Ballamoar, -with a chill air and white mists sweeping up from the sea. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll leave the piazza door on the catch, dear," she said, as -he was going off into the moving shadows of the trees. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Coming upon a tholthan (a ruined cottage) by the roadside he -ran his car into it, and then walked into the town. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, mother," he said, raising her to her feet. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Finding the light on his face Stowell said Good-evening and -hurried away, but not before the man and his wife had seen him. -</p> - -<p> -"That must be the young Dempster," said the man. -</p> - -<p> -"It was his father," said Mrs. Collister. -</p> - -<p> -"But his father is dead, woman," said the wife. -</p> - -<p> -"It was his father, I tell thee," said Mrs. Collister, and they -let her have her way. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At length he reached the quay with its smell of rock-salt and -tar. The <i>Dan O'Connell</i> was lying under the Castle gates, lazily -getting up steam, and the Captain was smoking by the gangway. -</p> - -<p> -"Everything right, Captain?" -</p> - -<p> -"Everything, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Will the fog interfere?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a ha'porth, yer Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"What about the Harbour-master?" -</p> - -<p> -"In church with the wife, but I'm to have supper with him -after the sarvice and take a bottle of something." -</p> - -<p> -"And the Turnkey?" -</p> - -<p> -"Blind polatic at the 'Manx Arms,' Sir." -</p> - -<p> -There came a dull hammering from the inside the Castle. -Stowell shivered. -</p> - -<p> -"Will they be gone in time?" -</p> - -<p> -"Going back by the last train they're telling me." -</p> - -<p> -"You'll whistle when you're clear away?" -</p> - -<p> -"Shure!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -For two hours they sat together in the old maids' stuffy sitting-room, -talking in whispers. Stowell gave Gell his last instructions. -</p> - -<p> -"You remember that there are two gates to the Castle?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes!" -</p> - -<p> -"Somebody will open the gate. It will be the jailer. If he -calls you'll make no answer." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"As soon as he has closed the big gate the little one will be -opened and Bessie will be brought out to you." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's all. You know the rest." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I owe you some money." -</p> - -<p> -"No, you don't. Remember the terms I lent it on." -</p> - -<p> -"Then take this anyway," said Gell, handing Stowell a -sealed envelope. -</p> - -<p> -After that there was another long silence, and then Gell said, -in a thick voice, -</p> - -<p> -"When we're far enough away I'll write." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean that I'm never to write to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Never." -</p> - -<p> -"But I will .... I must...." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be a damned fool, man. Can't you see you never can?" -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause. -</p> - -<p> -"Victor," said Gell, "that's the first unkind word you have -ever said to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Alick," said Stowell, "it shall be the last." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I must go now." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll walk down the road with you," said Gell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You had better go back now. We must not be seen -together," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose we've got to say good-bye," said Gell. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Vic!" -</p> - -<p> -"What is it?" -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause, and then, in a thick voice, -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing! S'long!" -</p> - -<p> -And so they parted. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But wait! Only wait!" -</p> - -<p> -In spite of his certainty that Providence was on his side he -stepped more lightly than ever as he went down to the quay. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, is it you, Dempster? You've come for Miss Stanley? -She's just gone, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"I know. I saw her. Are you alone, Mr. Vondy?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"How is your prisoner to-night, Mr. Vondy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Wonderful quiet, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Still expecting her pardon?" -</p> - -<p> -"'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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Gone to sleep, has she? I must see her though. I have -something to tell her." -</p> - -<p> -"Is it the pardon itself, Sir? Has it come then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not yet, but a telegram may come from London at any -moment." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't say?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I will that, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, you are here already! I knew you would come." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell stood with head down, feeling like a prisoner before -his Judge. Then he said, -</p> - -<p> -"You are not to die, Bessie." -</p> - -<p> -She caught her breath and put up her hands to her breast. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean that I am...." -</p> - -<p> -"You are pardoned and have to leave this place immediately." -</p> - -<p> -For a perceptible time Bessie stood silent, save for her -breathing, which was loud and rapid. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it true? Really true?" -</p> - -<p> -"Quite true." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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.'" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -When she had finished her prayer she said, -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Her face lit up and she went on talking, more to herself than -to Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Thinking of home she found a kind of proud revenge in -triumphing over her enemies. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -But the smiling background of her thoughts was love. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Leave the island?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, there's a steamer in the harbour, and you are to sail -by it to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"To-night?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, to Ireland, land from there, by another steamer, to -New York." -</p> - -<p> -"To New York?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but Alick is to go with you. I've just left him. We -have arranged everything." -</p> - -<p> -She looked searchingly into his agitated face and the radiance -died off her own. -</p> - -<p> -"But are you telling me the truth?" she said. "Am I really -pardoned? You are not helping me to escape, are you?" -</p> - -<p> -He pretended to laugh—It was hollow laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"What an idea! A Deemster helping a prisoner to escape! -Who would believe such a thing?" -</p> - -<p> -"No! People wouldn't believe such a thing, would they?" -she said, and her eyes again began to shine. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, how happy we shall be!" she said. "We shall go far -away, I suppose—where nobody will know what has -happened here?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but you must make no noise on going out, and not call -to anybody." -</p> - -<p> -"But Mr. Vondy—he has been so good—I may stop and -thank him?" -</p> - -<p> -"He won't be there. I'll give him your message." -</p> - -<p> -"But mother—if I'm going so far away I must say good-bye -to her." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I'm sorry, the steamer will sail immediately." -</p> - -<p> -She looked again into his agitated face and then, raising her -voice, she said, -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Stowell, you are deceiving me. I have not been -pardoned. You <i>are</i> helping me to escape." -</p> - -<p> -"Hush!" -</p> - -<p> -But (again in a loud voice) she cried, -</p> - -<p> -"Don't lie to me any longer. Tell me the truth." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But what about you?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I can take care of myself," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -"But if anything becomes known after Alick and I have -gone...." -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing <i>will</i> become known." -</p> - -<p> -"But if anything does, and you get into trouble...." -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie," said Stowell (he was breathing hard), "I did you a -great wrong a year ago...." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment of uneasy silence and then Stowell said, -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"But I can't! I can't! I .... I won't! And you shan't -either. Mr. Vondy! Mr. Von—...." -</p> - -<p> -"Be quiet! Be quiet!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -But her eyes had closed, and by the dim light from the grill -he saw that she was insensible. -</p> - -<p> -"Bessie! Bessie!" he whispered, but she was lying helpless -in his arms. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Better so," he thought, and laying the unconscious woman on -her bed he hurried back to the jailer. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Vondy! Mr. Vondy! Your prisoner is ill." -</p> - -<p> -The jailer, who had fallen asleep after his supper, staggered -to his feet. -</p> - -<p> -"God bless my soul! And the doctor living at the other end -of the town too." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind the doctor! Brandy! Quick!" -</p> - -<p> -"There isn't a drop in the Castle, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, there's a flask in my room. Take these" (giving him -a bunch of keys) "and go for it." -</p> - -<p> -"Where will I find it, Sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. I can't remember. Look everywhere—in every -drawer, every cupboard." -</p> - -<p> -"I will, your Honour." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't come back without it." -</p> - -<p> -"I won't, Sir." And still in the mists of sleep the jailer picked -up his lantern from the table and staggered off. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell listened to the sounds of the old man's retreating -footsteps until they had died away. -</p> - -<p> -"This will give more time," he thought—he had sent the -jailer on a fruitless errand. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Von—.... Mr. Von—...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Take her—she has fainted." Not another word was spoken. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Then the clock in the tower struck eleven. Every stroke fell -on the clammy air like a blow from a padded hammer. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -IV -</p> - -<p> -Five minutes passed. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Footsteps approached. The jailer entered, mopping his -forehead. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't find it, your Honour, and I've searched everywhere." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind, Mr. Vondy. Your prisoner recovered from her -attack and is now sleeping peacefully." -</p> - -<p> -"Sleeping, is she? I'll take a look at her." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't! I mean don't go into the cell and disturb her." -</p> - -<p> -"I won't, Sir," said the jailer, from half-way down the -corridor. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell listened intently. Presently the jailer returned. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, and it won't come now. Eleven o'clock, they said. If -it didn't come then I was not to expect it." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I wouldn't trust," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -Insensibly he had dropped into the Anglo-Manx. He was -trying to find some excuse for remaining. -</p> - -<p> -"It'll be a middlin' cold drive home, old friend—couldn't you -make me a cup of coffee?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"It was thirty years ago, when I was coachman at Ballamoar -in the 'Stranger's' days—a wonderful kind woman your mother -was, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"Damn your eyes, let go that forrard rope"—the Captain -was on the bridge. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Aisy does it! Take in that breast rope, bys"—the steamer -was passing through the gate. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Half-steam below there"—the steamer was opening the bay. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Heave oh and away!" -</p> - -<p> -"I was ragged and torn like a scarecrow, and herself was as -white as a sea-gull, but never a scratch, thank God!" -</p> - -<p> -"Bravo!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And he didn't?" -</p> - -<p> -"'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." -</p> - -<p> -Straining his powers of listening Stowell was still waiting for -the whistle that was to tell him the steamer was clear away. -</p> - -<p> -"Crow? That was Nelson's Crow, wasn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nelson's Crow it was, Sir. One-eyed Crow we were calling -him. He was boatswain on the <i>Victory</i>, 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." -</p> - -<p> -There was a long shrill whistle from a distance. Stowell leapt -to his feet and laughed—the steamer had gone. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, a rael Manxman, wasn't he? Wouldn't commit himself, -you see." -</p> - -<p> -Then he slapped the jailer on the shoulder and said, -</p> - -<p> -"So you've been here thirty years, old friend?" -</p> - -<p> -"About that, Sir," said the jailer. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, what's that, your Honour?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"God bless me, yes! I never thought of that. But it was -yourself that sent me out, and your Honour will not tell." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a word, Sir. But you've done your best for the poor -bogh, and it's Himself will reward you." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I must find a way to make it up to him," he thought. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -V -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Sail on! Sail on! Sail on!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Save the sinner, O Lord!" (<i>Hallelujah!</i>) "She may be -inside prison walls to-night, but show her the Golden Gates are -always open." (<i>Hallelujah!</i>) "Remember Thy servant, her -mother!" (<i>Aw yes, remember her!</i>) "Her soul is passing -through deep waters." (<i>'Deed it is, Lord!</i>) "Stretch out Thy -hand as Thou didst to Peter of old and suffer her not to sink." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -All was quiet. The condemned woman had escaped from -Castle Rushen. There was nothing to show that he himself had -been there. -</p> - -<p> -With a last look back he started his engine and released his -levers, and his car shot away. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0538"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT -<br /> -THE GRAVE OF A SIN -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"May I go up to your lantern, Light-houseman? I've always -wanted to see the sun rise from there." -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Home once more! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that you, Victor?" -</p> - -<p> -He answered, "Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"How late you are, dear!" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't waken me in the morning." -</p> - -<p> -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. <i>He</i> had been permitted to -prevent it. And now for the long, long rest of a dreamless sleep. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Thank God! Thank God! -</p> - -<p> -And then sleep, deep sleep, and the breathless day coming on. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF FIFTH BOOK -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0639"></a></p> - -<h3> -<i>SIXTH BOOK</i> -<br /> -THE REDEMPTION -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE -<br /> -THE BIRTH OF A LIE -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it true?" -</p> - -<p> -"So they're saying." -</p> - -<p> -"God bless my soul!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Away with you! Is it play-acting you've come to look at? -Smoking your pipes, too!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I know nothing about it, I tell thee, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you are a blockhead and a fool!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Jesus, lover of my soul,<br /> - Let me to Thy bosom fly.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Have they deceived me?" she cried. "Seven o'clock they -said. Is it all over?" -</p> - -<p> -"Be calm," said Fenella, and then she delivered her message. -Bessie had gone from Castle Rushen. She was not to die that day. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Glory to God! It's the answer to our prayers." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I know who thou art. Thou art the Governor's daughter. Is -it the truth thou'rt telling me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed it is." -</p> - -<p> -"My Bessie is out of prison?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and nobody knows what has become of her." -</p> - -<p> -A wild cry of joy burst from the old woman's throat. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella turned to go, and the man and woman of the house -followed her to the door. -</p> - -<p> -"What was that she said about the Deemster?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you sure it was the Deemster?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The singers were singing in triumphant tones— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>God moves in a mysterious way,<br /> - His wonders to perform.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly a great quickening of her love for Stowell came over -her. If she had stumbled upon his secret she would protect it. -</p> - -<p> -"But what can I do?" she asked herself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -She must stand by Victor now, whatever happened. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Traa de looiar</i>" ("Time enough"), he growled, but his -voice fell to a more deferential tone when he opened the door, and -saw who was there. -</p> - -<p> -"Our apologies to His Excellency, and say the Attorney-General -and the Chief Constable wish to see him immediately on -urgent business." -</p> - -<p> -The two men stepped into the smoking-room, which was still -dark with the blinds down and rank with last night's tobacco smoke. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good God, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"Only too true, Sir. Colonel Farrell has had an urgent -telegram from his Inspector at Castletown." -</p> - -<p> -"When did it happen?" -</p> - -<p> -"During the night. The jailer says he locked her up at eleven -and when he opened the cell at five the prisoner was gone." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is the jailer?" -</p> - -<p> -"At the Castle still," said the Chief Constable, "but I've told -the police to send him up immediately." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor rose from the seat into which he had dropped -and walked to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -"Such a blow to the authority of the law—the escape of a -prisoner on the eve of her execution!" said the Attorney. -</p> - -<p> -"Such a handle to the disorderly elements, too!" said the -Chief Constable. -</p> - -<p> -"Good Lord, don't I know? Let me think! Let me think!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not yet, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"We'll leave no stone unturned, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"A woman! A mere girl! Unless the jailer or his people -deliberately opened the doors for her she must have had -assistance." -</p> - -<p> -"That's what <i>I</i> say, your Excellency." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you any idea who helped her?" -</p> - -<p> -"No .... that is to say...." -</p> - -<p> -"Where's young Gell, the Advocate?" -</p> - -<p> -"In his rooms in Athol-street .... I presume." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -As soon as Fenella entered the house he called her into his -room and shut the door behind her. -</p> - -<p> -"You have just come from Castletown?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, father." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you know what has happened?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Can you throw any light on it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Light on it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I mean .... have you seen anything of Stowell since we -spoke of him last?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing." -</p> - -<p> -"Nor heard from him?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What other, father?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Victor was safe thus far. But what would he do himself? -What was he now doing? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was a startling moment. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed he will, Mr. Scarff." -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -It was out! Stowell felt as if the bed under him were rocking -from the first tremor of an earthquake. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"And what does he say?...." -</p> - -<p> -"He says she must have had an accomplice, and when the man -is found out it will be the worse for both of them." -</p> - -<p> -"And who .... who does Joshua think...." -</p> - -<p> -"Alick Gell. It seems he put appearances against himself at -the trial, poor boy!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -At the door of the little general store, with its mixed odour of -many condiments coming out to him, he stopped and called, -</p> - -<p> -"How's the rheumatism this morning, Auntie Kitty?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -On his way back he met Cain, the constable, looking large -and important. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But everybody is sorry for your Honour. His friend! His -bosom friend! Pity! Great pity!" -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -He had thought he had buried his sin in the sea—had he only -cast the burden of it upon Gell? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"Must I let that lie run on without saying a word against it?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -But now—what now? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"No, God forbid it! I cannot let that lie run on. I cannot -allow myself to be pilloried in life-long hypocrisy." -</p> - -<p> -All the same he would wait to see what the Governor might -do next. It was no good acting hastily. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0640"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY -<br /> -THE CALL OF A WOMAN'S SOUL -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Come now," said the Governor, "tell us what you know of -this matter." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"After Miss Stanley left the Castle a piece after ten o'clock -I locked the poor bogh in her cell...." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean the prisoner?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who else, your Excellency?" -</p> - -<p> -"Then say the prisoner." -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Breakfast? Where was your female warder?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mistress Mylrea? Sick of the heart since General Gaol. -They're telling me she died last night, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Where was your turnkey then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Willie Shimmin? He went out on lave for a couple of hours -on Sunday afternoon and didn't return on the night, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean to tell me you were alone in the Castle on the -night before an execution?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, yes, alone enough, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Colonel Farrell!" said the Governor, turning sharply upon -the Chief Constable. -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -"Well, well, enough of that now. Let us have the facts," -said the Governor, and turning back to the jailer he said, -</p> - -<p> -"Did anybody come to the Castle last night after Miss -Stanley left it?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, Sir, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"And your keys? Did they ever leave your possession?" -</p> - -<p> -"Never, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"After you locked the prisoner in her cell, what did you do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I went back to the guard-room and sat by the fire, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And fell asleep, I suppose?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll give in I slept a wink or two, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Where were your keys while you were asleep?" -</p> - -<p> -"On the table beside me, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And when you awoke where were they?" -</p> - -<p> -"In the same place, your Excellency." -</p> - -<p> -"Were the gates of the Castle locked last night?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, 'deed they were, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And were they locked this morning?" -</p> - -<p> -"They were that, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -The Attorney-General, who had been leaning forward, -dropped back. -</p> - -<p> -"Extraordinary!" he said. "The whole thing has the -appearance of the supernatural." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense!" said the Governor. "Vondy, do you know -Mr. Gell, the Advocate?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sorry to say, Sir...." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind about sorry—do you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"When did you see him last?" -</p> - -<p> -"At General Gaol, when he was out of himself, poor man, and -we had to lock him up for threatening the Dempster." -</p> - -<p> -"Did he never come to the Castle afterwards to see the -prisoner?" -</p> - -<p> -"Never, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you swear that he was not there last night?" -</p> - -<p> -"I will—before God Almighty, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then, if the cell was locked all night and the Castle gates -were locked, how do you account for the escape of your prisoner?" -</p> - -<p> -The jailer smoothed the hair over his forehead and then said, -</p> - -<p> -"Bolts and bars are nothing to the Lord, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor gasped. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aw, well .... I wouldn't say no to that, Sir. We're -reading of the like in the Good Book anyway." -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella," cried the Governor, "take this fool away and turn -him out of the house." -</p> - -<p> -When Fenella, who had been quivering all over, had left the -room, followed by the jailer, the Governor turned to the -Chief Constable. -</p> - -<p> -"The woman was not on the morning steamer?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"And What about Gell?" -</p> - -<p> -"We broke open the door of his room in Athol Street and -found he had gone." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! Have you come upon any trace of him elsewhere?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Anything else?" -</p> - -<p> -"The blacksmith at Ballasalla believes he saw him on Sunday -evening going in the fog in the direction of Derby Haven." -</p> - -<p> -"Aha! Did any fishing boat leave Castletown last night?" -</p> - -<p> -"The Manx boats do not go out on Sunday, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Any trading steamers then?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Inquire at once. If your constables do not find the fugitives -in the island we must send a 'Wanted' across the water." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll draw one up, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Got the necessary photographs?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -Meantime, Fenella had taken the jailer into the drawing-room -and closed the door behind them. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Was it the Deemster?" -</p> - -<p> -"It was that," said the jailer, and then he told her everything -that had happened. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"You didn't say this when the Governor questioned you—had -you a reason for not doing so?" -</p> - -<p> -"I had. The Deemster made me promise to say nothing." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella felt as if she would sink through the floor in shame, but -all the same she found herself saying, -</p> - -<p> -"You've known the Deemster all his life, haven't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you will keep the promise you gave him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Trust me for that, miss." -</p> - -<p> -"But if anything should happen to yourself as the consequence -of last night's escape...." -</p> - -<p> -"The father put me in the Castle and the son won't see them -fling me out of it." -</p> - -<p> -"But if he should be overruled by the Governor and unable -to help you...." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll take my chance with him. What's it they're saying?—<i>the -Ballamoar will out</i>, miss." -</p> - -<p> -Tears sprang to Fenella's eyes, but her heart beat high. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Maybe so. I've been thinking as much myself since five this -morning. But that's all as one to me, miss. Tell him <i>Tommy -Vondy will keep his word</i>." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Who, for instance?" -</p> - -<p> -"Qualtrough of the Keys and the man Baldromma." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"I will, your Excellency." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The closing of the outer door rang through the corridor, and at -the next moment the Governor was in the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella," he said, "do you happen to know if Stowell has a -photograph of young Gell, the Advocate?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But why?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because I want him to bring it with him when he comes on -Wednesday to issue the warrant." -</p> - -<p> -"What warrant?" -</p> - -<p> -"The warrant for the arrest of Gell, for breaking prison and -aiding in the escape of the girl Collister." -</p> - -<p> -"But, father, they are friends—life-long friends." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It cannot be! It must not be! It shall not!" -</p> - -<p> -She wanted to run to Ballamoar and say, "Don't do it. If -you have done wrong confess and take the consequences." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But is there nothing I can do for him?" she asked herself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"O God help him! God help him! Help him to resist this -great temptation." -</p> - -<p> -At length peace came to her. Somewhere in the dead waste -of the night she seemed to receive an answer to her prayers. -</p> - -<p> -"He'll do the right, whatever it may cost him," she thought, -and as the day was dawning she fell asleep. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that to be the end of everything between us? After all -this waiting?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Coming upon the maid in the corridor she said, -</p> - -<p> -"The Deemster is to call to-day, Catherine. Tell him I wish -to see him before he sees the Governor." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But that is of no consequence now," thought Fenella, "no -consequence whatever." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0641"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY-ONE -<br /> -IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW -</h3> - -<p> -"Good heavens, what does it matter? A lie is only dangerous -when it does some harm!" -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"Then where's the harm?" he asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -He would let things go on as usual—of course he would. Only -he must make sure that the fugitives had got clear away. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Where's the harm?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Then your Honour hasn't heard what has happened?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. What?" -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>he</i> want to hand on his land, his son -having run away with the woman he had corrupted? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -What then? Would he tell the whole truth under that terrible -temptation, and thus bring down Stowell himself to ruin -and extinction? -</p> - -<p> -"But what nonsense I'm talking," thought Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly came the thought, "<i>I</i> am to know." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"If the Speaker dies it will be the act of God," he thought. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was not as if Gell were in any danger—the danger of arrest -for instance. <i>That</i> would be different. But Gell was in no -danger—none whatever. -</p> - -<p> -"Therefore bury the thing! Bury it and go on as usual," he -told himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"Surely I've a right to some happiness after all I've gone -through." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good evenin', Dempster! A letter for you, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -It was Killip the postman. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you've heard about that affair, your Honour?" -</p> - -<p> -"What affair?" -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night, Mr. Killip." -</p> - -<p> -"Good-night, your Honour!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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., -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"JOHN S. STANLEY, -"<i>Brig.-Gen., K.C.B.</i> -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was struck with stupor. Alick Gell <i>was</i> in danger, -then, and the whole situation was different. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no! It would be a crime—a base, cowardly, -infamous, abominable crime!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Never," he thought. "Never in this world." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot issue this warrant for the arrest of Alick Gell for -breaking prison to procure that girl's release because <i>I</i> did it." -</p> - -<p> -What would happen then? The Governor (he was a just man -if a hard one) would say, -</p> - -<p> -"In that case, you cannot be a Judge in this island any longer." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, that's it, that's it," he told himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"<i>Please call me at six. I must take the first train to Douglas.</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Who could have come at this time of night? Candle in hand -he went down and opened the door. -</p> - -<p> -It was Joshua Scarff. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0642"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY-TWO -<br /> -"HE DROVE OUT THE MAN" -</h3> - -<p> -"Sorry to trouble you at this hour, your Honour, but I had to -come and tell you what has happened." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Joshua?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What is the reason of it?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Who say that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Old Qualtrough and Dan Baldromma." -</p> - -<p> -"Baldromma? If his step-daughter has escaped what has he -to complain of?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing, but that's not the worst, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"What is?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Beads of perspiration were rolling down from Joshua's -bald crown. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you think ought to be done?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"How?" -</p> - -<p> -"The guilty man in this case must give himself up." -</p> - -<p> -"Give himself up?" -</p> - -<p> -Joshua took off his coloured spectacles and wiped the damp -off them. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought your Honour might know where he was. He -can't be far away, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Denounced?" -</p> - -<p> -"It will be a terrible ordeal—I know that, Sir. Your friend! -Your life-long friend! Pity! Great pity!" -</p> - -<p> -For a perceptible time Stowell did not speak. Then, in a voice -which Joshua had never heard before, he said, -</p> - -<p> -"Go home and go to bed, Joshua. I'll see what can be done." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Punished? The shock was terrible. Was he then to give -himself up? To confess publicly? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is there no other way?" he asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Good God, what am I thinking about?" he asked himself. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"What madness! What rank madness!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I will go up to Government House in the morning," he -thought, "confess everything and take my punishment." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor Janet!" he thought. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -After that he wrote a letter to the Attorney-General: -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"I desire that Thomas Vondy, formerly the jailer at -Castle Rushen, should be taken care of in any way you may -consider best. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"I think that is all." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -Feeling a certain twinge, Stowell hesitated for a moment, with -the memorandum shaking in his hand, and then threw it into -the fire. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -Better be dead than live such a life! -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -No scandal! No outcry! No vulgar sensation! Just a pang -to Fenella, and then the darkness of death over all. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is anybody there?" he asked aloud. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Who is it?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm ill," he thought, and he closed his eyes and put his hand -over them. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Then he heard his father speaking to him, gently, affectionately, -but firmly, just as he used to do when he was alive. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Father!" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0643"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY-THREE -<br /> -THE DAWN OF MORNING -</h3> - -<p> -"Victor! Victor!" -</p> - -<p> -It was Janet's voice outside the door. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh?" -</p> - -<p> -"Six o'clock. Didn't you want to catch the first train in -town, dear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes! All right. I'll be down presently." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He saluted everybody he came upon. "Good-morning, Betty!" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"But what a blessed end," said Stowell. "She'll think her -daughter is in heaven, so she'll always be happy." -</p> - -<p> -"It's like she will, Sir," said Robbie, looking puzzled, and -going indoors for his morning bowl of porridge he said to his wife, -</p> - -<p> -"A mortal quare thing to say, though, and the woman in -the madhouse." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Good-bye, mother! God bless you!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Where's the big men of the island that they're not telling -the people they're bringing it to wreck and ruin?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -There was silence for a moment after this, and then an old man -by the opposite window was heard to whisper, -</p> - -<p> -"Lave him alone, men; he knows what hour the clock is -striking." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"He's his father's son for all," said the old man by the window. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The shops bore signs of yesterday's rioting—-many having -their shutters up, while the windows of others were barricaded with -new boarding. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -When the maid opened the door, he asked for the Governor. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, your Honour," said the maid, "but Miss Fenella wishes -to see you first, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -His heart was beating hard when he stepped into the house. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0644"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR -<br /> -"GOD GAVE HIM DOMINION" -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell the Mayor to read the Riot Act, and then do what is -necessary for the protection of life and property," said the -Governor. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"If the thoroughfares are still thronged with riotous mobs -at that time," said the Governor, "tell the cavalry to ride -through them." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella knew who it was, and rising hastily from the table she -went into the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -"Victor!" -</p> - -<p> -"You know why I have been sent for?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and that is why I want to speak to you before you see -my father. There are things you ought to know." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Did he say anything?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not to them." -</p> - -<p> -"To you, perhaps?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. I brought him in here. He told me what occurred -after I left the Castle." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you know?" -</p> - -<p> -She dropped her head and answered "Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"I had to do it, Fenella—I thought I had to." -</p> - -<p> -A moment passed. -</p> - -<p> -"He asked me to tell you that he would keep his word to you, -whatever happened." -</p> - -<p> -"Did he say that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -A spasm in Stowell's throat seemed to be stifling him. -</p> - -<p> -"I did wrong, Fenella, terribly wrong, but there is one thing -I will ask of you." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Victor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not to judge me until you know what I've come to do to-day." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella, deeply affected, thought she caught a glimpse of -his meaning. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you intend to resign, Victor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but that is not all." -</p> - -<p> -"What is, Victor?" She was thinking of his exile, his -possible banishment. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She trembled, thinking he meant suicide, and said in a -choking voice, -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean that you intend to take your .... No, no, -that is impossible. Think of your father." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell did not speak for a moment. Then he said, -</p> - -<p> -"I saw him last night, Fenella." -</p> - -<p> -"Who?" -</p> - -<p> -"My father. I was thinking of that as a way out of all this -miserable wrong-doing, when he came to warn me." -</p> - -<p> -"How he must have suffered," thought Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"But perhaps you think it was only a delusion?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed no! If the spirits of our dear ones may not come -back to speak to us in our times of temptation...." -</p> - -<p> -"But my father was not the only one who spoke to me last -night, Fenella." -</p> - -<p> -"Who else did, Victor?" -</p> - -<p> -"You. I heard you as plainly as I hear you now." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella's bosom was heaving. "When was that?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"In the middle of the night. But perhaps you were in bed -and asleep at that time." -</p> - -<p> -"No .... no, I did not sleep until after daybreak. In the -middle of the night I was" .... (she was breathing audibly) -"I was praying." -</p> - -<p> -He looked up at her with his heavy eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Were you praying for me, Fenella?" -</p> - -<p> -She cast down her eyes and answered "Yes." -</p> - -<p> -Another moment passed, and then in a husky voice he said, -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella, what did you pray for for me?" -</p> - -<p> -"That you might have strength to do what was right, -whatever it might cost you." -</p> - -<p> -He reached forward and grasped her hands. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you know what that meant, Fenella—whatever it might -cost me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said, raising her eyes, "and at length an answer -came to me." -</p> - -<p> -"What answer?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell gasped, dropped her hands and for a while was -speechless. Then he said, -</p> - -<p> -"And do you think I will?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure you will, Victor. I had a sign from God." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you, after all, believe in God, Fenella?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed yes. And you—don't you??" -</p> - -<p> -"My father did. He used to kneel by his bed like a little -child every night and every morning." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -She had seized his hands. The hands of both were trembling. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't say that." -</p> - -<p> -"Wait until I have seen your father." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was turning to go, when Fenella put a trembling hand -on his shoulder and said in a whisper, -</p> - -<p> -"Victor, whatever happens with my father, promise me that -you will never do that." -</p> - -<p> -"But if the Governor...." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind about the Governor now, promise me." -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment of silence and then he said, "I promise," -and with head down passed out of the room. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Opening the door noiselessly she entered the room. The two -men were face to face, looking at each other with flaming eyes. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -"Come in, Stowell. I'm glad you're early. I wanted a word -with you before the others arrived. Sit down." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You came by train?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -But the Governor went on walking and Stowell continued -to stand. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell, who had been clutching the back of a chair behind -which he was standing with a fixed stare, said in a quivering voice, -</p> - -<p> -"I'm sorry, your Excellency. I cannot do that." -</p> - -<p> -"Eh? Cannot do what?" -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot issue the warrant for the arrest of Alick Gell for -breaking prison because...." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell swallowed something in his throat and continued -.... "because <i>I</i> did it." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor drew up sharply and said, -</p> - -<p> -"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell, who had recovered himself, answered, -</p> - -<p> -"No, I am not ill, your Excellency." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you must be mad—stark mad. It's impossible. You -can never have done such a thing." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not mad either, Sir. What I tell you is the truth—it -is God's truth, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -And then, excusing nothing, extenuating nothing, Stowell told -the Governor what he had done, and how he had done it. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor listened without drawing breath. -</p> - -<p> -"But why .... why did you .... was it because I -refused to remit...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"A crime? Good Lord, what if it was? What had you to do -with that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I had tried and condemned her. And besides, I had my -personal reasons for wishing the prisoner to escape punishment." -</p> - -<p> -"But damn it all, man, when you were doing all this for the -girl, didn't you see what you were doing for yourself?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Resign your judgeship?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but that's not all—to ask you to order my arrest and -commit me to prison." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor, who had been half stupefied, took possession of -himself at last. -</p> - -<p> -"Commit you to prison? Good heavens, what are you saying? -A Deemster in prison! Whoever heard of such a thing!" -</p> - -<p> -"I am guilty of a crime against Justice...." began -Stowell, but the Governor bore him down. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, you said yourself the guilty man ought to be in prison." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell tried to speak, but again the Governor bore him down. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't talk damned nonsense." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell drew himself up. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you wish me, then, to issue that warrant against Alick Gell -now that you know that I am myself the guilty man?" -</p> - -<p> -The Governor flinched for a moment, then smote the top of his -desk and said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -There was silence after that for several minutes. Then the -Governor, who had thrown himself in his chair, said in a softer tone, -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor leapt up from his seat. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell was trying to speak, but again the Governor put up -his hand.. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor, startled by the emotion that was coming over -him, broke away and crossed the room, saying, -</p> - -<p> -"But damn it all, why need I talk of myself? There's -Fenella—have you forgotten Fenella?" -</p> - -<p> -It was at this moment that Fenella entered the room. Neither -of the men saw her. She stood noiselessly at the door. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell flamed up with anger for a moment, and then choked -with tears. After a short silence he said, -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -Sobbing in his throat Stowell could go no further. Fenella, -sobbing in her heart, crept noiselessly out of the room. -</p> - -<p> -The Governor, in spite of himself, was visibly affected. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? Good gracious, why not? The guilty ones have -gone. Your secret is safe. Except ourselves, nobody knows it. -Why shouldn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I dare not," said Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -"Dare not?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor got the better of his emotion. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell hesitated for a moment and then said, -</p> - -<p> -"In that case, your Excellency, you will force me to denounce -myself." -</p> - -<p> -"Denounce....? You mean in open Court?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it will be my duty, and I shall be compelled to do it." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor's wrath became rage. With a ring of sarcasm -in his voice he said, -</p> - -<p> -"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>I</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." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell trembled, his lips became white. -</p> - -<p> -"I beg you not to do that, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"I will! I take God to witness that I will. Now choose for -yourself which it is to be—your course or mine?" -</p> - -<p> -Stowell breathed hard for a moment and then smiled—but -such a smile! -</p> - -<p> -"Your Excellency," he said, "for your own sake I beg of you -not to do it." -</p> - -<p> -"My sake?" said the Governor, drawing up sharply—he had -been striding about the room again. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"What else?" -</p> - -<p> -"Death. Then, in the eyes of heaven, the crime against the -law will be <i>your</i> crime and I shall not live to witness it." -</p> - -<p> -There was a breathless silence. The Governor was dumb-founded. -Stowell stepped towards the door and said in a low voice, -</p> - -<p> -"God forgive you, Sir. You will never see me again." -</p> - -<p> -At that moment the maid entered the room to announce the -Attorney-General and the Chief Constable, who came in -immediately behind her. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, Victor, how are you?" said the Attorney. "Your -Excellency, we have brought the Warrant." -</p> - -<p> -"And here," said the Chief Constable, with an obsequious -bow to Stowell, "is the Deemster ready to issue it." -</p> - -<p> -Nobody spoke, and the Chief Constable, taking a paper out of -a long envelope, proceeded to read it: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>This is to command you to whom this Warrant is addressed -forthwith to apprehend Alexander Gell....</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"That will do. Give it to me," said the Governor. -</p> - -<p> -When the Warrant had been given to him he tore it up and -threw it into the fire. The two men were aghast. -</p> - -<p> -"Your Excellency, what .... what...." -</p> - -<p> -"This damnable thing must go no further. Let me hear no -more about it." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Stowell's trembling hand was on the handle of the door. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -Unable to say more she broke away from him and hurried into -an inner room. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF SIXTH BOOK -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0745"></a></p> - -<h2> -SEVENTH BOOK -<br /> -THE RESURRECTION -</h2> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE -<br /> -THE WAY OF THE CROSS -</h3> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Down with the Governor!" -</p> - -<p> -"Tell him the steamer leaves for England at nine in -the morning." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The cavalry were now coming up the hill at a gallop and -the little one's danger was seen by all. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Come back; you'll be killed," cried someone, but the others -held their breath. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"The Deemster! God bless him!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -It was the Douglas prison. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"Your Worship, I have a serious charge to make." -</p> - -<p> -He beckoned to the policeman at the back, who opened the -door of the dock and Stowell stepped into it. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -The High Bailiff seemed to be stupefied and the charge had -to be repeated to him. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh? What? God bless my soul! On his own confession, -you say? Is the Deemster well? What conceivable motive...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - <i>Arrest of Deemster Victor Stowell.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p> -The news fell on the public like a thunderbolt. It eclipsed -their interest in the soldiers. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"The fool! The infernal fool! After I had given him such -a chance, too!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"You were right after all, Fenella. I see now that you must -throw the man up," said the Governor. -</p> - -<p> -"On the contrary," said Fenella. "Now I must stand by him." -</p> - -<p> -"What on earth do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"I mean that Victor has justified himself." -</p> - -<p> -"Justified himself?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Your choice?" -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot cut him out of my heart because he has been brave -enough to face the consequences of his crime." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'm prepared for that, father." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"You mean you would turn me out of the house? There will -be no need for that—I will go of myself, father." -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella! Fenella!" cried the Governor, recovering himself, -but Fenella had gone from the room. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, dear, oh dear, what is the world coming to?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella," he said, "this is nonsense. It cannot be." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm afraid it must be, father." -</p> - -<p> -"Look here, girl, when a man's angry he doesn't always mean -what he says. I never meant you were to go." -</p> - -<p> -"It's better that I should, father." -</p> - -<p> -The Governor struggled hard with his pride and said, -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella leaned back on her heels and her eyelids quivered -for a moment. Then she said, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Good Lord, what are you saying, girl?" -</p> - -<p> -"I promised myself to him, and I intend to keep my promise." -</p> - -<p> -"But he's a prisoner, and if the governing authority -objects...." -</p> - -<p> -"In that case I'll wait until he is a prisoner no longer, and -then .... then I'll marry him." -</p> - -<p> -"That you never shall. Not in this island anyway. No -clergyman here will marry you to that man against my wish." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I'll go to him just the same." -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I'm prepared even for that sacrifice." -</p> - -<p> -"You're mad. You're both mad—stark mad." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Miss Green came back to the house with her handkerchief to -her eyes, saying, -</p> - -<p> -"She was crying as if her heart would break, poor darling!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"He wants punishment, does he? Very well, he shall have it, -and damned quick too." -</p> - -<p> -Two hours later Fenella was at Castle Rushen, in the living-room -of the new jailer and his wife. -</p> - -<p> -"I hear you want a female warder, and I've come to offer -myself," she said. -</p> - -<p> -The new jailer, who was embarrassed, stammered something -about menial labour, but Fenella was not to be gainsaid. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm a trained nurse, and have experience in managing -people—will you take me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well .... if the Governor doesn't .... for the present, -perhaps." -</p> - -<p> -"For good," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The blood of the Stanleys was in it still. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0746"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY-SIX -<br /> -VICTORY THROUGH DEFEAT -</h3> - -<p> -A little later Stowell was brought up for trial at a special -sitting of the Court of General Gaol Delivery held in Douglas. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The scoundrel! The traitor! Poor young Gell! And then -that girl Collister was not so bad as they had thought her. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Taubman, in a rasping voice, read out the charge to the -prisoner and called on him to plead. -</p> - -<p> -"How say you, are you Guilty or Not Guilty?" -</p> - -<p> -"Guilty," said Stowell in a clear voice, and then, after a -moment of merciless silence, there was a deep drawing of breath. -</p> - -<p> -"Had you any accomplices?" -</p> - -<p> -"None." -</p> - -<p> -"Humph! And what was your motive in committing this -crime?" -</p> - -<p> -Again there was a moment of merciless silence, and then -Stowell, speaking very slowly, said, -</p> - -<p> -"I had seduced the prisoner and was therefore the first cause -of her crime." -</p> - -<p> -Ah! There was another long indrawing of breath among the -spectators. It was a wonder the man didn't fall dead with shame! -</p> - -<p> -"And what, if you please, was your reason for making -this confession?" -</p> - -<p> -"I could not allow an innocent person to suffer for my crime." -</p> - -<p> -"Was that your only reason?" -</p> - -<p> -The silence became breathless. After a pause Stowell said, in -a low voice, -</p> - -<p> -"That is a question I will answer to a higher tribunal." -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed!" said Taubman, with a sneer, and then the silence -was broken by a cowardly titter which passed through the -court-house. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ha!" -</p> - -<p> -"But," said the old man, flashing his moist eyes on the glistening -eyes behind him, "the Crown stands for Justice, not revenge." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -A murmur of dissent passed through the court-house. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Humph!" he said. "All that means, I suppose, that a man -may be innocent and guilty at the same time." -</p> - -<p> -And then another cowardly titter ran through the court-house. -</p> - -<p> -The time had come for judgment. Taubman leaned over the -bench, clasped his bony fingers in front of him, and said, -</p> - -<p> -"Victor Stowell, stand up." -</p> - -<p> -Stowell rose, and stood with his hands interlaced, and his -heavy eyes fixed steadfastly on his Judge. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you anything to say why judgment should not be -pronounced upon you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing." -</p> - -<p> -It needs no skill to wound the defenceless, and for the next -few minutes Taubman seemed to glory in the exercise of his power. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Ha!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Ha!" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"I think I gave my gentleman his deserts for his bad -treatment of your Excellency. Eh? What?" -</p> - -<p> -And then the Governor spoke for the first time that day. -</p> - -<p> -"Maybe so," he said, "but all the same you are not fit to -wipe his boots, Sir." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -Early next morning Stowell was removed to Castle Rushen. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly not," said the Chief Constable, and he clashed the -door back. -</p> - -<p> -"Better so," thought Stowell. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>Love is the Queen for you and for me,<br /> - Salve, Salve Regina!</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Another crowd had gathered about the Castle gate that -morning. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "<i>I'm not engaged to any young man I solemnly do swear,<br /> - For I mane to be a vargin and still the laurels wear.<br /> - For I mane to be a vargin and still the laurels wear.</i>"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"They're telling me she wasn't at the trial in Douglas -yesterday." -</p> - -<p> -"What wonder if she wasn't, poor thing! I wouldn't trust -but she'll never show her face in public again." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly, over the loud clamour there came a wild shout from -the battlements. -</p> - -<p> -"Here he is!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Stand back! Make way!" -</p> - -<p> -Then there was a flash of daylight and the voice of the Chief -Constable saying peremptorily, -</p> - -<p> -"Come, get out! Be quick about it." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Then in a voice which vibrated with contempt and scorn, -Fenella tried to speak to them. -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -The crowd broke up rapidly and slank away, subdued -and ashamed. -</p> - -<p> -"Morning, men!" -</p> - -<p> -"Morning!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Did thou see that, Bella?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Deed I did, though." -</p> - -<p> -"I belave in my heart it was the girl herself—the one they -say he has done so bad to." -</p> - -<p> -"Aw well, if a woman isn't willing to stand up for her man, -whatever he has done, what <i>is</i> she anyway?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap0747"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN -<br /> -THE RESURRECTION -</h3> - -<p> -Three days later, Fenella set out for Bishop's Court in a -two-horse landau. -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"So that's how they expect to wipe out what they did to Victor! -Not if I know it though!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The living Bishop was suave and voluble. He congratulated -Fenella on looking so well after so much trouble. -</p> - -<p> -"Such a calamity! I might almost say such a tragedy! How -the island will miss him!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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...." -</p> - -<p> -Fenella, who had been beating her foot impatiently on the -carpet, at length broke into her own business. -</p> - -<p> -"Bishop, you have heard that I have gone to the Castle as -female warder?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"But more than that will have to be done for him if his soul -is to be kept alive," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"Really? If you think there is anything <i>I</i> can do...." -</p> - -<p> -"There is, Sir .... You know that I was to have married -Mr. Stowell?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed I do. Wasn't the marriage to have taken place -before very long in our chapel at Bishop's Court?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I want it to take place now. Only it must be in the -Chapel at Castle Rushen instead." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean .... the prison Chapel?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you will be willing to marry us, Sir?" said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -The Bishop hesitated, and then asked Fenella what view the -Governor took of her intention. -</p> - -<p> -"He disapproves of it altogether, and says no clergyman in the -island can marry us without incurring his displeasure." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -"But I have always understood that the Bishop is a baron in -his own right and therefore independent of the Governor." -</p> - -<p> -"True! That's true! Still...." -</p> - -<p> -The river of rhetoric had suddenly stopped. -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Stowell is a prisoner. Why marry when you can't live -together? Why not wait until he is at liberty?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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.... -</p> - -<p> -Fenella leapt to her feet. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ye—s .... that is to say, if you tell him what you have -told me, and he is prepared to take the risk." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Janet, what are you doing?" -</p> - -<p> -"Getting ready for my boy coming back, that's what I'm -doing." -</p> - -<p> -"But, dear heart, don't you know...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"So now I'm looking for a clergyman who will be brave -enough to marry us," she said. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Have you been <i>there</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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, -</p> - -<p> -"John, a young lady to see you." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -Fenella told him her story, as she had told it to the Bishop, -and then said, -</p> - -<p> -"So I've come to ask if you dare run the risk of marrying us?" -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"What do you say, Sarah?" -</p> - -<p> -The old lady did not reply immediately, and pointing to the -photograph on the mantelpiece the parson said, -</p> - -<p> -"If it had been John James's case, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do as you think best, John." -</p> - -<p> -"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 <i>that</i> from me anyway." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella, who was feeling a tightness in the throat, contrived -to say, -</p> - -<p> -"Then perhaps you'll drive back with me to Castletown and -celebrate the service to-morrow?" -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"It is very good of you, Mrs. Cowley, to take this risk with -your husband," said Fenella. -</p> - -<p> -"But isn't that what we women have all got to do?" said -Mrs. Cowley. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -II -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -He might have continued to wear his own clothes, but said, -</p> - -<p> -"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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't people sometimes go mad in a place like this?" he -asked the jailer. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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? -</p> - -<p> -"Better die," he thought. "A thousand times better." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, that .... <i>that's</i> our lady warder," said the jailer. -</p> - -<p> -"Is Mrs. Mylrea better then?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, she's dead. We have another one now, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Who is she?" -</p> - -<p> -The jailer hesitated and then said, "Don't you know, your Honour?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it .... is it .... <i>she</i>?" he faltered. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -He asked for a candle, pen and ink and paper, and sat down -to write a letter. -</p> - -<p class="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." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -He paused. The sea outside was singing on the shore; the -children were laughing at their play. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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. -</p> - -<p class="letter"> -"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...." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -She, too, was trembling, but she put on a brave air and even a -little of her gay raillery. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it is Fenella. She has come, as she said she would, -you know." -</p> - -<p> -"But <i>why</i> have you come?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why? Don't you know what day this is, Victor? This was -to have been our wedding-day. It shall be, too." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Look at me. Do you think I have dressed up like this -for nothing?" -</p> - -<p> -"But don't you see it is impossible?" -</p> - -<p> -"Impossible? Don't you want me any longer then? You -promised to marry me, Sir—are you going to break your promise?" -</p> - -<p> -She was laughing, but trying at the same time not to cry. -Stowell's voice grew thick and husky. -</p> - -<p> -"Go home to your father's house, Fenella. That is the only -place for you." -</p> - -<p> -"But my father has turned me out, so if you send me away -also I shan't have a roof to cover me." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that true?" -</p> - -<p> -She tried to laugh again with her old gaiety. -</p> - -<p> -"Well .... nearly." -</p> - -<p> -"You cannot live in a place like this, Fenella." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? I have the apartments of a Queen, and what was -good enough for her will be good enough for me, surely." -</p> - -<p> -"But you forget—I am a prisoner, and if the Governor -objects...." -</p> - -<p> -"He doesn't. He has been told and has raised no objection." -</p> - -<p> -"But there isn't a clergyman in the island who would marry -a woman like you to a man like me." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, there's one, and I have brought him with me." -</p> - -<p> -"Who...." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Parson Cowley," said Stowell, in a hoarse voice, "show her -it is impossible." -</p> - -<p> -The old man swallowed something in his throat and answered, -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing seems impossible to love, my son." -</p> - -<p> -"But tell her that no good woman can live all her life with -a dishonoured man like me." -</p> - -<p> -Again the old parson cleared his throat. -</p> - -<p> -"I know one who has been doing so for forty years, Sir." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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, -</p> - -<p> -"Victor, you won't send me away from you, will you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I shall always love you, Fenella," said Stowell, whose head -was still down. "I shall love you as an angel." -</p> - -<p> -"But forgive me, dear, I am only a woman, and I want to be -loved as a woman first." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"I should never forgive myself, Fenella, if I allowed you to -make this sacrifice." -</p> - -<p> -"What sacrifice? Everything I want in the world is within -these walls." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't tempt me, Fenella. Go away, I beg of you." -</p> - -<p> -"Victor, I am for you. You are for me. Do you want to -rob me of the only man in the world for me?" -</p> - -<p> -His heart was beating fast. -</p> - -<p> -"Go away, I tell you. I cannot trust myself any longer." -</p> - -<p> -But the more he commanded her to go, the more her eyes -glistened with a look of triumph. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He gasped, and then flung out at her in a torrent of words. -</p> - -<p> -"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!" -</p> - -<p> -Fenella, with gleaming eyes, took one step closer. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Fenella!" -</p> - -<p> -"Victor!" -</p> - -<p> -She had conquered. They were clasped in each other's arms. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -III -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>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.</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Stowell made a stifled sound as of protest. Fenella put down -her hand and took his hand and held it. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>Victor Christian, wilt thou have this Woman to thy -wedded wife?</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -There was a sensible pause, and Parson Cowley leaned down -to Stowell and whispered, -</p> - -<p> -"Say 'I will,' my son." -</p> - -<p> -Then came a slow, half-smothered murmur, -</p> - -<p> -"I .... will." -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"<i>Fenella Charlotte de la Tremouille, wilt thou have this -Man to thy wedded husband?</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -In a clear, unfaltering voice Fenella answered, -</p> - -<p> -"I will." -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"We must hold together now, dear." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, until death parts us." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -They talked of the future. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you leave the island when your time comes, dear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed no, never." -</p> - -<p> -Where his sin had been there also should be his expiation. -</p> - -<p> -"How great! How glorious!" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you love me always, Victor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Always? As sure as God...." -</p> - -<p> -"Hush! I know you will, dearest. But being only a woman -I shall want you to tell me so every night and every morning." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled, a melancholy smile, and shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"I have much to go through yet. You, too, Fenella." -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -<a id="conclusion"></a> -CONCLUSION -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -"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...." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -THE END -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * * * * * * * * * -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE DEEMSTER -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>The Scotsman</i> says: "This is one of the great novels." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE CHRISTIAN -</p> - -<p> -<i>653,098 copies of English editions sold to date.</i> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -The <i>Newcastle Chronicle</i> says: "This novel is a noble inspiration -carried to noble issues, an honour to Hall Caine and to English -fiction." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE MANXMAN -</p> - -<p> -<i>399,426 copies of English editions sold to date.</i> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>T. P. O'Connor</i> says: "This is a very fine and great story—one of -the finest and greatest of our time." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE BONDMAN -</p> - -<p> -<i>468,327 copies of English editions sold to date.</i> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>The Scotsman</i> says: "Hall Caine has, in this work, placed himself -beyond the front rank of the novelists of the day." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE SCAPEGOAT -</p> - -<p> -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. -<i>The Times</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>The Times</i>: "This is the author's masterpiece." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE ETERNAL CITY -</p> - -<p> -<i>704,371 copies of English editions sold to date.</i> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>The Methodist Times</i> says: "It is an enthralling, delicious, and -most pathetic love story." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE PRODIGAL SON -</p> - -<p> -<i>368,925 copies of English editions sold to date.</i> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>The Westminster Gazette</i> says: "In truth, a work that must -certainly rank with the best in recent fiction." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE WHITE PROPHET -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>The Liverpool Post</i> says: "Hall Caine's power of rivetting and -engrossing attention will be found in this novel at its zenith." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME -</p> - -<p> -<i>Over 475,000 copies of English editions sold to date</i> -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -<i>The Daily Chronicle</i> says: "It strikes a great blow for -righteousness, and in that light it is Hall Caine's -greatest achievement." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE MASTER OF MAN -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t2"> -J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> - A SELECTION OF NEW AND OLD<br /> - BOOKS ON A VARIETY OF SUBJECTS<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE SONG OF SONGS. -</p> - -<p> -Being a collection of love lyrics of Ancient Palestine. -</p> - -<p> -By Morris Jastrow, Jr., Ph.D., LL.D. -</p> - -<p> -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 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -SEEING THE SUNNY SOUTH -</p> - -<p> -By John T. Faris -</p> - -<p> -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 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE WHISTLER JOURNAL -</p> - -<p> -By Elizabeth Rand Joseph Pennell -</p> - -<p> -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 -</p> - -<p> -Limited de Luxe Edition. $15.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -A TALE OF A WALLED TOWN AND OTHER VERSES -</p> - -<p> -By B 8266—Penitentiary -</p> - -<p> -A volume of verse which is a real human document. William -Stanley Braithwaite in his introduction to "A Tale of a Walled Town," -says: "I do not say that 'A Tale of a Walled Town' is as great a poem -as either 'The Song of David or 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol,' but I -do say that nothing ranks between them and the poem of B 8266, -and that behind the latter is a long descent to any -similar accomplishment." $2.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -LIPPINCOTT'S PRACTICAL BOOKS: -</p> - -<p> -Serve Art and Beauty in the Home. -</p> - -<p> -These are most complete and elaborately illustrated. All one -wishes to know on each of the subjects is found under one cover. -Almost every phase of art in the home is covered—interior decoration, -furniture, arts and crafts, rugs, architecture, garden designings. -Each volume profusely illustrated in color, halftone and line, and with -charts and maps where necessary. Bound in decorated cloth. Octavo. -In a box. Write for illustrated circulars of the seven titles. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -<i>FICTION OF CHARM AND DISTINCTION</i> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE THING FROM THE LAKE -</p> - -<p> -By Eleanor M. Ingram -</p> - -<p> -"A tale from the border land of dread." Roger Locke, successful -composer, purchases a country-place. On the first night of his residence -a mysterious some one wakes him from a sound sleep and warns him -that his life is in danger. Thus begins a tale of mystery and horror in -which the suspense is sustained until the climax, when in a sudden flash -the whole truth is revealed. The reader can take his choice of either -an occult or scientific explanation of the mystery. Frontispiece. $1.90 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -WOUND STRIPES -</p> - -<p> -By Bertha Lippincott Coles -</p> - -<p> -Romances After the War. One of the most interesting features -of the readjustment of human relations after the war has been the -sometimes humorous or pathetic romances of the returning men. -Mrs. Coles has collected in this volume five of her inimitable and -heart-appealing stories about war heroes. They thrill with love and -patriotism. $1.50 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -PRINCESS SALOME -</p> - -<p> -By Dr. Burris Jenkins -</p> - -<p> -"Princess Salome, A Tale of the Days of Camel Bells," will be admired -by some for the thrilling tale it tells; discussed by others for the -manner of the telling; and cherished by thousands for the inspiration -and faith it will give. It is startling, dramatic, and makes real to us -the wonder and emotion which must have been experienced by the early -followers of Christ. Frontispiece in color. $2.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE TRYST -</p> - -<p> -By Grace Livingston Hill -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Hill's novels are the wished-for books in many homes. Nothing -unsavory ever creeps between the pages to mar her narratives. "The -Tryst" is the gripping story of John Preeves,—how in his seeking -after God he finds Patty Merill, and helps to clear the mystery that -surrounds her life as well as the mystery of a death. By far the strongest -story by this popular writer. Frontispiece in color. $2.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE -</p> - -<p> -By Carolyn Wells -</p> - -<p> -Carolyn Wells has unsurpassed genius in creating plots and incidents -that are unusual, bizarre, and baffling to the lover of mystery. -Each new "Fleming Stone" story is original and different. A cry of -fire, a murder, and a voluntary confession of three people to the crime -is the crux of the latest and most gripping story of her pen. -Frontispiece in color. $2.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -NO DEFENCE -</p> - -<p> -By Gilbert Parker -</p> - -<p> -"No Defence" will be classed with the really great romances. It -is Parker at his best. "It has dash, fire, and romance; dramatic situations -and incidents, vivid pictures of West Indian forest and plantation -life, and an appealing love tale."—<i>The Outlook</i>. 4 Illustrations. $2.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -HAPPY HOUSE -</p> - -<p> -By Jane Abbott -</p> - -<p> -This is the exceptional novel which everyone enjoys. It is the spirit -of youth and love and joy caught between the covers of a book and done -in the wholesome American way. Frontispiece in color. $1.75 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -<i>RECENT OUTSTANDING BOOKS</i> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -SEEING THE FAR WEST -</p> - -<p> -By John T. Faris -</p> - -<p> -A remarkable panorama of the scenic glories of the States from the -Rockies to the Pacific. 113 Illustrations and two Maps. $6.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE BOOK OF JOB -</p> - -<p> -By Morris Jastrow, Jr., Ph.D., LL.D. -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Jastrow with rare insight and charm brings forth into the light -of understanding this most glorious of poems. Frontispiece. Octavo. $4.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE ORIENT IN BIBLE TIMES -</p> - -<p> -By Elihu Grant -</p> - -<p> -A fascinating and historic panorama of the Oriental world, its -peoples, civilization, and history during Bible times. 30 Illustrations -and Map. $2.50 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -PICTURE ANALYSIS OF GOLF STROKES -</p> - -<p> -By James M. Barnes -</p> - -<p> -"Jimmie" Barnes shows and explains Every Detail of Every Shot -in the text and with 300 remarkable action photographs. "It has -already squared itself and much more in sight" wrote one enthusiast. -It plays every club in the bag. Large octavo. $6.50 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -LIPPINCOTT'S HOME MANUALS -</p> - -<p> -No woman can afford to be without these splendid handbooks for -use in the home. They show how to save time, money and energy in -household work of all kind. Five volumes have been published on -Housewifery, The Business of the Household, Home and Community -Hygiene, Clothing for Women, Successful Canning and Preserving. -Others are in preparation. Each profusely illustrated. Write for -descriptive circulars. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -TRAINING FOR LIBRARIANSHIP -</p> - -<p> -By J. H. Friedel, M.A. -</p> - -<p> -Gives interesting facts and data regarding all phases of public and -special library work, useful to anyone who contemplates entering or -advancing in the profession. 8 Illustrations. $1.75 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE BOOK OF COURAGE -</p> - -<p> -By John T. Faris -</p> - -<p> -This is not psychological medicine for neurasthenics, but strong -mental food suitable for the digestion of any one. $1.50 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -LIMERICKS -</p> - -<p> -By Florence Herrick Gardiner -</p> - -<p> -This remarkable collection of the world's most famous limericks, -published originally under the title of "The Smile on the Face of the -Tiger," has been revised and enlarged, and contains 16 amusing -illustrations. $1.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE PEOPLE OF PALESTINE -</p> - -<p> -By Elihu Grant -</p> - -<p> -This companion volume to "The Orient in Bible Times" gives a -vivid and truthful picture of present-day manners, customs and life in -Palestine. 45 Illustrations. $2.50 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE CHARM OF FINE MANNERS -</p> - -<p> -By Mrs. Helen Ekin Starrett -</p> - -<p> -This character-forming book for girls is being accepted widely as -the keybook of the great movement for better morals and manners in -the young which is now sweeping the country. $1.00 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -MRS. WILSON'S COOK BOOK -</p> - -<p> -By Mrs. Mary A. Wilson -</p> - -<p> -This book costs less than the price of a good meal and will save -the price of many. There are 496 pages of new recipes and menus to -suit every purse. $2.50 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -<i>LIPPINCOTT'S MERIT BOOKS FOR BOYS & GIRLS</i> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -WOODCRAFT SERIES -</p> - -<p> -By Dan Beard -</p> - -<p> -American Boys' Book of Wild Animals. Profusely illustrated. $3.00. -</p> - -<p> -American Boys' Handy Book of Camplore and Woodcraft. 377 -Illustrations. $3.00. -</p> - -<p> -American Boys' Book of Bugs, Butterflies and Beetles. 280 -Illustrations. $2.50. -</p> - -<p> -American Boys' Book of Signs, Signals and Symbols. 363 -Illustrations. $2.50. -</p> - -<p> -Dan Beard knows what real boys enjoy. His books are instructive -and entertaining and are prized by every "regular fellow." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -AMERICAN TRAIL BLAZERS' SERIES -</p> - -<p> -Twelve thrilling stories with authentic historical backgrounds -based on American heroes and incidents. Each illustrated in color and -halftone, $1.75. Write for descriptive circulars. -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> -STORIES FOR GIRLS -</p> - -<p> -By Jane Abbott -</p> - -<p> -Aprilly, 4 Illustrations, $1.75. -</p> - -<p> -Highacres, 4 Illustrations, $1.75. -</p> - -<p> -Keineth, 4 Illustrations, $1.50. -</p> - -<p> -Larkspur, 4 Illustrations, $1.50. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Abbott, the popular writer of healthy and enlivening fiction for -girls, has been compared to Louisa May Alcott. Her high ideals for -womanhood have won her a growing popularity. Real girls faced by -real problems are the characters in her stories, which are filled with -the joyous spirit of youth and spring. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -STORIES ALL CHILDREN LOVE SERIES -</p> - -<p> -Nineteen famous stories for children, the latest volume being -"Mazli," by Johanna Spyri, author of "Heidi." Ask to see these books. -They should be in every child's room. Each volume is printed in large -type on white opaque paper, with from eight to twelve beautiful -illustrations in color, attractive lining papers, handsome binding, and -incomparable at the price per volume, $1.50. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -THE CHILDREN'S CLASSICS -</p> - -<p> -Sixteen favorite fairy and story books for very little children, the -latest one being "All Time Stories," a collection of short stories from -many famous books. The various titles in this series have been very -carefully edited and simplified for little folks. 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