him a bit of barley cake, and maybe a drop of something, and that
as all. He was not in the house then? "Och, let them look for
themselves." The blue-jackets searched the house, and came out as
they had entered. Then they passed through every street, looked down
every alley, peered into every archway, and went back to their ship
empty-handed.

When they were gone Mother Beatty came to the door and looked out. At
the next instant the big-limbed stranger stepped from behind her.

"That way," she whispered, and pointed to a dark alley opposite.

The man watched the direction of her finger in the darkness, doffed
his cap, and strode away.

The alley led him by many a turn to the foot of a hill. It was
Ballure. Behind him lay the town, with the throngs, the voices, and
the bands of music. To his left was the fort, belching smoke and the
roar of cannon. To his right were the bonfires on the hilltop, with
little dark figures passing before them, and a glow above them
embracing a third of the sky. In front of him was the gloom and
silence of the country. He walked on; a fresh coolness came to him
out of the darkness, and over him a dull murmur hovered in the air.
He was going towards Kirk Maughold.

He passed two or three little houses by the wayside, but most of them
were dark. He came by a tavern, but the door was shut, and no one
answered when he knocked. At length, by the turn of a byroad, he saw
a light through the trees, and making towards it he found a long
shambling house under a clump of elms. He was at Lague.

The light he saw was from one window only, and he stepped up to it. A
man was sitting alone by the hearth, with the glow of a gentle fire
on his face--a beautiful face, soft and sweet and tender. It was Adam
Fairbrother.

The stranger stood a moment in the darkness, looking into the quiet
room. Then he tapped on the windowpane.

On this evening Governor Fairbrother was worn with toil and
excitement. It had been Tynwald Day, and while sitting at St. John's
he had been summoned to Ramsey to receive the Prince of Wales and the
Duke of Athol. The royal party had already landed when he arrived,
but not a word of apology had he offered for the delayed reception.
He had taken the Prince to the top of the Sky Hill, talking as he
went, answering many questions and asking not a few, naming the
mountains, running through the island's history, explaining the three
legs of its coat of arms, glancing at its ancien