"There's that case. It comes on soon. I must see the poor woman again in the morning." "Well, if you must, you must, and I'll go down to the gate with you," said Fenella. And putting something over her head she walked by his side (the doctor having gone on), taking his arm unasked and keeping step with him. "I was just wanting a word with you." "Yes?" "It's about your father. You must really come back to live with him." "Has he asked...." "Not to say asked! 'Victor doesn't come to see me very often'--that's all." "After this case is over I'll...." "Do. You can't think how much it will mean to him." On the way back to Ramsey, with the lamps of the dog-cart opening up the dark road in front of them, Stowell was silent, but the doctor talked continuously, and always on the same subject. "I've seen something of the ladies in my time, Mr. Stowell, sir, but I really think .... yes, sir I really do think...." and then rapturous praises of Fenella. They rang like joy-bells in Stowell's ear but struck like minute-bells also. When he closed the street door to his chambers he found a large envelope in the letter-box behind it. Bessie's photograph! As he held it under the gas globe in his cold room the pictured face gave him a shock. Beautiful? Yes, but there was something common in its beauty which he had never observed before. His first impulse was to hide the photograph out of sight. But at the next moment he tore open the cedar-wood frame on the mantelpiece, removed the portrait it contained, inserted Bessie's in its place, and then put it to stand on the table by the side of his bed. "There! That shall be the last face I see at night and the first I see in the morning!" But oh vain and foolish thought! With the first sleep of the night another face was in his dream. CHAPTER TWELVE THE DEATH OF THE DEEMSTER The Deemster had not intended to sit at the next Court of General Gaol Delivery, and had already arranged for the second Deemster to take his place, but when, next morning at breakfast, he heard from Fenella that Victor was to plead, he determined to preside. "I must hear Victor's first case at the General Gaol," he said. "We shall have to be careful, then," said Dr. Clucas. "No excitement, your Honour! No more heart-strain!" On the morning of the trial he was up early. Janet heard him humming to himself in the conservatory as he cut the flowers for the vase in front of his young wife's picture. When he was ready to go she helped him on with his overcoat, turning up the collar and putting a muffler about his neck. And when young Robbie came round with the dog-cart he stepped up into it with surprising strength. And then Janet, who had smuggled a brandy-flask into the luncheon basket at the back of the dog-cart, stood with a swollen heart and watched the old man as he went off in the morning mist, with the awakened rooks cawing over the unseen tops of the trees.