Fenella was waving to the Governor and the Attorney, and laughing at their slow speed, as she and Stowell shot past them before they had left the town. The morning was beautiful, the sky blue, the sea glistening under a fresh breeze. They were running, bounding, leaping along the roads, and talking loudly above the hum of the car. Stowell had caught the contagion of Fenella's high spirits and awakened from his long trance. "Well, what did you think of it?" "The ceremony? Lovely!" "But you were crying all the time!" "It must have been through looking at you, then. There was everybody doing you honour, and you looked like a man going to execution." He laughed; she laughed; they laughed together, but they had their serious moments for all that. One of them came when she spoke of the Oath, saying how quaint and amusing it was. "A little frightening, though," said Stowell. "Frightening?" "Well, yes, I thought so. Made one feel as if old Job had had something to say for himself. Who was I to judge others, having done wrong myself?" "Really! You wicked fellow! I wasn't aware you had so many sins to answer for. But _I_ know!" And then, in flash after flash, each sparkling like a diamond, came pictures of his predecessors. The solemn judge; the jesting judge; the judge who suspected all men of lying; the judge who believed everybody told the truth; the sour, dour, swearing and hanging judge, who served Justice as if she had been a Juggernaut, and the gay Judge who bought and sold her as he did his mistresses. "What a procession! And the question was, which kind were you going to belong to--eh?" Again he laughed; they both laughed; and the car flew on. Another serious moment came. He mentioned the Book of Oaths, saying that while turning over its leaves with their faded ink he had been seized with a sudden fear of writing his name, whereupon Fenella, with a mischievous look of gravity, cried again, "_I_ know. You thought you were signing your death-warrant." Yet another serious moment came when she asked him if he had not been proud of the send-off his countrymen had given him at the Castle gate. He replied that he would have been so but for the wretched thought that if anything happened to him their love would as suddenly turn to hate, and they would howl as loudly as they had cheered. "But what nonsense!" cried Fenella. "Love--what I call love--is not like that. It never dies and never changes." "Never?" "Never! If I loved anybody and anything happened, I should fight the world for him." "Even if he were in the wrong?" "Goodness yes! Where would be the merit of fighting for him if he were in the right?" "Darling!" cried Stowell, and, the road being clear, and nobody in sight, he had to slow down the car to kiss her.