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! "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" 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! "She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!" 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. 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! "Oh God! Oh God!" 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. He felt like a traitor--a traitor to Fenella now. He recalled what he had said last night. One step more and---- 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---- He must go. He must go immediately. His miserable mistake must not bring disgrace on Fenella also. 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. He took off his fisherman's clothes, put on his own, and sat down at the table to scribble a note to the Governor: "Excuse me! I must go up to Douglas by the first train. Have just remembered an important engagement. Hope to call at Government Office to-morrow." 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. 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: "Nane, jeer, three, kiare, quieg .... warp, tally!" CHAPTER FIFTEEN