The business being over, the Bishop gave out the hymn that is sung at the close of nearly all Manx festivals, "O God, our help," and all rose and sang. Stowell rose with the rest, but he did not sing. He was no longer conscious of the eyes that were on him. The emotion which he had been struggling to repress had at length conquered his self-control. While the Court-house throbbed with the singing he was thinking of the Judges who had stood in the same place and taken that oath before him. There had been a thousand years of them. He turned to the eastern wall and his father's melancholy eyes seemed to look at him. "Yes, you too," they seemed to say, "must now do the right, whatever it may cost you. You are no longer yourself only. The souls of all your predecessors have this day entered into your soul. You must consider yourself no more. You must be just--or perish." The hymn came to an end and there was a shuffling of feet like the pattering of water in the harbour at the top of the tide. The next thing Stowell knew was that he was unrobed and going down the Deemster's private staircase to the Court-yard of the Castle. A large company was there waiting to congratulate him. Janet (he had ordered that a front seat should be reserved for her) was holding a little court of elderly ladies, to whom she was relating wonderful stories of his childhood. She broke away from them to kiss him. And then she kissed Fenella also and whispered, "Don't forget to send him home in time, dear." "I'll not forget," said Fenella. And then she, on her part, with a face aflame, whispered something to the Governor, who, shaking hands all round, was making ready to go. "What? You want to return in the automobile? Very well, off you go! The Attorney will take pity on your forsaken father." Outside the gate there was a great crowd, behind a regiment of red-coated soldiers, and when the Governor and the Attorney-General drove off they broke into a cheer which drowned the clash of steel and the first bars of the National Anthem. But that was as nothing compared with the demonstration when Stowell went off in his car, sitting at the wheel, with Fenella beside him. "Long live the new Deemster--hip, hip--hip!" The great shout, the mighty roar of voices, brought a surging to Stowell's throat and a tightening to his breast. It followed his car, going off in the sunshine, until it shot over the bridge that crossed the harbour, and there Fenella turned back her glistening wet eyes and bowed. * * * * * * * Others heard it. The prisoners in their dark cells, rising from their plank beds and hunching their shoulders in the chill air, listened to the joyous sounds from without, which broke the usual silence of their gloomy walls, and said to themselves, "What are they doing now, I wonder?" There were seven prisoners in the Castle that day. One of them was Bessie Collister. II "Addio! See you at supper!"