“Give him a merry touch to keep up his pecker,” said Pete. “Tell him the Romans are ter'ble jealous chaps, and, if he gets into a public house for a cup of tay, he's to mind and not take the girls on his knee--the Romans don't like it.” The last time they heard from Philip he was in London. His old pain had given way; he thought he was nearly well again, but he had come through a sharp fire. The Governor had been very good--kept open the Deemstership by some means--also surrounded him with London friends--he was out every night. Nevertheless, an unseen force was drawing him home--they might see him soon, or it might be later he had been six months away, but he felt that it had not been all waste and interruption--he would return with a new sustaining power. This letter could not be answered, for it bore no address. It came by the night-mail with the same day's steamer from England. Two hours later Mrs. Gorry ran in from an errand to the town saying-- “I believe in my heart I saw Mr. Philip Christian going by on the road.” “When?” said Pete. “This minute,” she answered. “Chut! woman,” said Pete; “the man's in London. Look, here's his letter”--running his forefinger along the headline--'“London, January 21st--that's yesterday. See!” Mrs. Gorry was perplexed. But the next night she was out at the same hour on the same errand, and came flying into the house with a scared look, making the same announcement. “See for yourself, then,” she cried, “he's going up the lane by the garden.” “Nonsense! it's browning you're ateing with your barley,” said Pete; and then to Kate, behind his hand, he whispered, “Whisht! It's sights she's seeing, poor thing--and no wonder, with her husband laving her so lately.” But the third night also Mrs. Gorry returned from a similar errand, at the same hour, with the same statement. “I'm sure of it,” she panted. She was now in terror. An idea of the supernatural had taken hold of her. “The woman manes it,” said Pete, and he began to cross-question her. How was Mr. Christian dressed? She hadn't noticed that night, but the first night he had worn a coat like an old Manx cape. Which way was he going? She couldn't be certain which way to-night but the night before he had gone up the lane between the chapel and the garden. Had she seen his face at all? The first time she had seen it, and it was very thin and pale. “Oh, I wouldn't deceave you, sir,” said Mrs. Gorry, and she fell to crying. “Gough bless me, but this is mortal strange, though,” said Pete. “What time was it exactly, Jane?” asked Kate. “On the minute of ten every night,” answered Mrs. Gorry. “Is there any difference in time, now,” said Pete, “between the Isle of Man and London, Kitty?” “Nothing to speak of,” said Kate.