The Bishop had sent across to the old Ballamona to say that he wished to see his son in the library after service on the following morning. At twelve next day, Dan, who had been plowing, turned in at Bishop's Court in his long boots and rough red shirt, and there in the library he found Mona and the Deemster seated. Mona did not speak when Dan spoke to her. Her voice seemed to fail; but the Deemster answered in a jaunty word or two; and then the Bishop, looking very thoughtful, came in with Ewan, whose eyes were brighter than they had been for many a day, and behind them walked the stranger whom Mona had seen at Ballamona the day before. "Why, and how's this?" said Ewan, on perceiving that so many of them were gathered there. The Bishop closed the door, and then answered, with averted face, "We have a painful interview before us, Ewan--be seated." It was a dark day; the clouds hung low, and the dull rumble of the sea came through the dead air. A fire of logs and peat burned on the hearth, and the Deemster rose and stood with his back to it, his hands interlaced behind him. The Bishop sat on his brass-clamped chair at the table, and rested his pale cheek on his hand. There was a pause, and then without lifting his eyes the Bishop said, "Ewan, do you know that it is contrary to the customs of the Church for a minister to stand security for a debtor?" Ewan was standing by the table, fumbling the covers of a book that he had lifted. "I know it," he said, quietly. "Do you know that the minister who disregards that custom stands liable to suspension at the hands of his Bishop?" Ewan looked about with a stare of bewilderment, but he answered again, and as quietly, "I know it." There was silence for a moment, and then the Deemster, clearing his throat noisily, turned to where Dan was pawing up a rug that lay under a column and bust of Bunyan. "And do you know, sir," said the Deemster, in his shrill tones, "what the punishment of forgery may be?" Dan's face had undergone some changes during the last few minutes, but when he lifted it to the Deemster's, it was as firm as a rock. "Hanging, perhaps," he answered, sullenly; "transportation, perhaps. What of it? Out with it--be quick." Dan's eyes flashed; the Deemster tittered audibly; the Bishop looked up at his son from under the rims of his spectacles and drew a long breath. Mona had covered her face in her hands where she sat in silence by the ingle, and Ewan, still fumbling the book in his nervous fingers, was glancing from Dan to the Deemster, and from the Bishop to Dan, with a look of blank amazement. The Deemster motioned to the stranger, who thereupon advanced from where he had stood by the door, and stepped up to Ewan. "May I ask if this document was drawn by your authority?" and saying this the stranger held out a paper, and Ewan took it in his listless fingers.