The hum of the automobile awakened the colony of rooks in the tall trees, and, swirling above the lawn, they raised a deafening clamour. This brought from the porch Janet (back from Castletown) with a flutter of black frocks and white aprons behind her. A great company of the people of the parish were at tea in the hall, chiefly women, but of all classes, from the nervous wife of the Vicar to the widow of the cowman. "Don't get up," cried Stowell. He had entered with a shout, tossing his hat on to the settle and saluting everybody by name, just as he used to do when he was a boy and annexed them all for relations. "Sit here, Auntie Kitty. This is your seat, Alice. Parson, won't you take the bottom of the table? And, Dad" (this to Robbie Creer in his Sunday homespun), "take my place by Mrs. Creer while I help Jane with the teacups." "Did thou hear that, mistress?" said Robbie behind his hand to Janet, who was turning the tap of the tea urn. "They may make him Dempster, but he doesn't forget his old friends for all." In a moment everybody was talking and laughing. It was just as if a fresh breeze had come down from the mountains on a hot day in harvest. During tea Joshua Scarff arrived with a green portfolio under his arm. "I've brought some documents you'll wish to look at before the Court sits, your Honour." "Good! Put them on the desk in the library and then come back and have some tea." The twilight deepened and the company prepared to go. Stowell stood at the door, with Janet beside him, while the young girls of the choir of the Methodist chapel ranged themselves in front of the house and sang in their sweet young voices, which floated through the gathering gloom, "God be with you till we meet again." "Good-night, all!" "Good-night, your Honour!" Night! The great day had dropped asleep; the clock on the landing was striking nine; dinner was over; Janet (she had "a head") had gone to her room, and Stowell was stepping on to the piazza. The wind had fallen and the night was silent, almost breathless. The revolving light on the Point of Ayre was answering to the gleam on Galloway; and the moon, which was almost at the full, was glistening on the waters that rolled between. How beautiful, how limpid! It was just such a night as that on which Fenella and he had sat out there together. He could still see her as she was then--the slim young girl in a white dress and satin slippers, with her intoxicating face in the frame of the silk handkerchief which she had bound about her head. And now she was to become his wife! A great new vista was opening out to him. Life was about to begin in earnest. With that splendid woman by his side he was going to rise (if God would be so good to him) out of the muddy imperfections of his lower nature. His breast swelled; his throat tightened; his heart sang; he was entirely happy.