As a sequel to the Melliah the talk during dinner was of the ancient customs and old life of the island. The Deemster, who could have told most, said little, but the Governor spoke of the riots of the Manx people (especially the copper riot when they wanted to burn down Government House), and Janet of the roysterers and haffsters of the Athols who kept racehorses and fought duels--her mother in her girlhood had seen the blue mark of the bullet on the dead forehead of one of them. Such sweetness, such nobility, the men, the women, and the manners! Fenella joined in the talk with great animation, but Stowell was silent and in pain. Here they were, his family and friends, without a suspicion that some day, perhaps soon, he would bring quite another atmosphere into this house, this room. Visions of the mill, the miller, his wife and his daughter rose before him, and he felt like a traitor. But it was not until they went into the library (it was library and drawing-room combined) that he knew the full depth of his humiliation. The Deemster, who was by the fire, asked Fenella to sing to them, and she did so, sitting at the piano, with Doctor Clucas (who in his youth had been the best dancer in the island) tripping about her with old-fashioned gallantry to find the music and turn over the leaves. "This is for the Stranger," she said (cutting deeper than she knew), and then followed a series of old Manx ballads, some of them like the wailing of the wind among the rushes on the Curraghs, and some like the dancing of the water in the harbour before a fresh breeze on a summer day. Then the doctor brought out from a cupboard a few faded sheets inscribed "Isobel Stowell," and Fenella sang "Allan Water" and "Annie Laurie." And then the Deemster closed his eyes, and it seemed to Victor who sat on a hassock by his side, that his father's blue-veined hands trembled on his knees. "And this is for myself," said Fenella, dropping into a deeper tone as she sang: _Less than the weed that grows beside thy door.... Even less am I._" Victor wanted to fly out of the room and burst into tears. But just then the clock on the landing struck, and Fenella rose from the piano. "Ten o'clock! Time to go upstairs, Deemster." The old man seemed to like to be controlled by the young woman, and leaning on her arm, he bowed all around in his stately way, and permitted himself to be led from the room. Then the Governor (being a privileged person) lit his pipe with a piece of red turf from the fire, and Janet whispered to the maid who had come back for the coffee-tray, "See that Mr. Victor's night-things are laid out, Jane." But Victor himself was in the hall, helping the Doctor with his overcoat, and saying, "Can you take me back to town with you?" "Certainly, if you'll wait at the lodge while I look in on the cowman's wife." "Why, what's this mischief you are plotting?" It was Fenella coming downstairs. The doctor explained, and Victor said,