"Yes," she said, making ready for flight, "one of those sea robbers you told me of, who came to take possession of the island and capture its women." "Really?" "I dare say you're sorry you're not back with your ridiculous old ancestors, catching a woman for your wife." "Not a bit! I've caught one already." "Eh? What? If you mean .... Don't be too sure, Sir! You've not caught me yet!" "Haven't I? Look out then--I'm going to catch you now." "Catch me!" she cried, and away she flew down the slopes, laughing, screaming, rocking, reeling, and leaping over the drifts, until at length she tumbled into a deep one, with head down and ski in air, and came up half blind, with Stowell's arms about her and his lips kissing the snow off her chin and nose. What a winter! Could there be any sorrow or sin or crime in the world at all? And what did it want its prisons and courts for? But the thaw came at length, and then the noises of the garrulous old island began again with the rattle of the cart wheels, the rumble of the rivers running to the sea, and the mooing and bleating of the liberated cattle and sheep, coming out of their Ark and going back to the discoloured grass of the fields. Stowell and Fenella felt as if they were descending to a world of reality from a world of dreams. "Good-night!" They were in the porch at Government House after the last of their winter expeditions. He was crushing her in his arms again, to the ruin of her beautiful hair, and whispering of the time that was coming when there would be no need for such partings. "Three months yet, Sir!" "Heavens, what an age!" And then home to Ballamoar, with his young chestnut under him sniffing the night air, and over his head a paradise of stars. II "_Come immediately. Important news for you._" It was a telegram from the Governor, who had been in London again. Stowell went up to Douglas by the first train. "It's about the Deemstership." "Ah!" "Old Taubman, as you know, has been complaining of overwork ever since your father died. The winter had crippled him and he is down with rheumatism. Fortnightly courts being postponed, cases in arrears--it was necessary to do something. So I went up to Whitehall last week and told them a successor would have to be appointed. They asked me to recommend a name and I recommended yours." "Mine, Sir?" "Yours! It was all right, too, until I had to tell them your age, and then--phew! A judge and not yet thirty! I stood to my ground, said this was the age of youth, quoted the classical examples. Anyhow, there was my recommendation--take it or leave it." "And what was the result, Sir?" "The result was that the Lord Chief was consulted, and then our insignificance saved us. Yes, there was precedent enough for young judges in colonies and dependencies. And this being a case of a worthy son succeeding a worthy father .... and so on and so forth." "Well?"