The Deemster fixed his buckles, rose to his feet, slapped Dan on the back, and said: "Go home, man veen, go home," and then hurried away to the kitchen, where in another moment his testy voice could be heard directing Hommy-beg to put up the saddle on the "lath." Mona looked into Dan's face. "Will you be reconciled to Ewan now?" she said, and took both his hands and held them. "No," he answered firmly, "I will see the Bishop." His eyes were dilated; his face, that had hitherto been very mournful to see, was alive with a strange fire. Mona held his hands with a passionate grasp. "Dan," she said, with a great tenderness, "this is very, very noble of you; this is like our Dan, this--" She stopped; she trembled and glowed; her eyes were close to his. "Don't look at me like that," he said. She dropped his hands, and at the next instant he was gone from the house. Dan found the Bishop at Bishop's Court, and told him all. The Bishop had heard the story already, but he said nothing of that. He knew when Dan hid his provocation and painted his offense at its blackest. With a grave face he listened while Dan accused himself, and his heart heaved within him. "It is a serious offense," he said; "to strike a minister is a grievous offense, and the Church provides a censure." Dan held his face very low, and clasped his hands in front of him. "The censure is that on the next Sabbath morning following, in the presence of the congregation, you shall walk up the aisle of the parish church from the porch to the communion behind the minister, who shall read the 51st Psalm meantime." The Bishop's deep tones and quiet manner concealed his strong emotion, and Dan went out without another word. This was Friday, and on the evening of the same day Ewan heard what had passed between Dan and the Deemster and between Dan and the Bishop, and with a great lump in his throat he went across to Bishop's Court to pray that the censure might be taken off. "The provocation was mine, and he is penitent," said Ewan; and with heaving breast the Bishop heard him out, and then shook his head. "The censures of the Church were never meant to pass by the house of the Bishop," he said. "But he is too deeply abased already," said Ewan. "The offense was committed in public, and before the eyes of all men the expiation must be made." "But I, too, am ashamed--think of it, and remove the censure," said Ewan, and his voice trembled and broke. The Bishop gazed out at the window with blurred eyes that saw nothing. "Ewan," he said, "it is God's hand on the lad. Let it be; let it be." Next day the Bishop sent his sumner round the parish, asking that every house might send one at least to the parish church next morning. On Sunday Ewan's young wife kept her bed; but when Ewan left her for the church the shock of her nerves seemed in a measure to have passed away. There was still, however, one great disaster to fear, and Mona remained at the bedside.