Christian strode up and down the room. His agitation was greater than before. "I feel less than a man," he said. "Oh, but a hidden sin is a mean thing, father--a dwarfing, petrifying, corroding, unmanly thing. And to think that I could descend so low as to try to conceal it--a part of it--by consorting with a gang of lawless fellows--by a vulgar outrage that might have ended in death itself but that the hand of Heaven interposed!" "You are not the first," answered Balladhoo, "who has descended from deceit to the margin of crime; but it isn't for me to judge you. Read your misfortunes, my lad, as Heaven writes them. Are they not warnings against the want of manliness? No, it's not for me to say it; but if there's one thing truer than another, it is that the world wants _men_. Clever fellows, good fellows, it has ever had in abundance, but in all ages the world's great want has been _men_." Balladhoo glanced down at Mona. Throughout this interview she had sat with eyes bent on her lap. The old man touched the arm of his son and continued: "As for the hand of Heaven, it has worked through the hand of this dear, brave girl. You owe her your life, Christian, and so do I." Then the young man, with eyes aflame, walked to Mona and lifted her into his arms. The girl looked very beautiful in her confusion, and while she sobbed on Christian's breast, and Balladhoo looked on with wondering eyes, Christian confessed everything; how, in effect, Mona had been his wife for six years past, and little Ruby was their child. It was a staggering blow. But when the surprise of it was past, all was forgiven. "You love my boy?" said Balladhoo, turning to Mona. The girl could not answer in words. She threw her arms around the old man's neck, and he kissed her. Then through the tears that had gathered in his blurred old eyes there shot a merry gleam as he said above the girl's hidden face, "Oh, so I've got to be happy yet, I find." There came the noise of people entering the house. In another moment Kerruish Kinvig had burst in with one of the Castle Rushen men behind him. "Manxman-like, he's a dog after the fair, and away from Peel to-night," bawled Kinvig, indicating the subject of his inconsequent remarks by a contemptuous lurch of his hand over his shoulder. "We stayed too long in hiding," said the man, with a glance of self-justification. "Of course," shouted Kinyig, oblivious of the insinuation against his own leadership; "and who hasn't heard that the crab that lies always in its hole is never fat?" "The fishing-boat is still at sea, sir. It's scarce likely that the men will come back to Peel," said the man, addressing Balladhoo. "Who dreamed that they would?" cried Kinvig. "What black ever stamped on his own foot?" "We're trusting you think we've done our best, sir," continued the man, ignoring the interruptions.