an along to Port-y-Vullin.

Stephen hurried home with fear in his heart. In five minutes he was
there, and then his life's blood ran cold. He found the house empty,
except for his wife, and she lay outstretched on the floor. She was
cold--she was dead; and in clay on the wall above her head, these
words were written in the Icelandic tongue, "So is Patricksen
avenged--_signed S. Patricksen_."

Avenged! Oh, powers of Heaven, that drive the petty passions of men
like dust before you!

CHAPTER VI.

THE LITTLE WORLD OF BOY AND GIRL.

Three days later the bad lottery of Liza Killey's life and death was
played out and done. On the morning of the fourth day, some time
before the dawn, though the mists were rolling in front of it,
Stephen Orry rose in his silent hut in Port-y-Vullin, lit a fire,
cooked a hasty meal, wakened, washed, dressed and fed little
Sunlocks, then nailed up the door from the outside, lifted the child
to his shoulders, and turned his face towards the south. When he
passed through Laxey the sun stood high, and the dust of the roads
was being driven in their faces. It was long past noon when he came
to Douglas, and at a little shop by the harbor-bridge he bought a
penny worth of barley cake, gave half to Sunlocks, put the other half
into his pocket, and pushed on with longer strides. The twilight was
deepening when he reached Castletown, and there he inquired for the
house of the Governor. It was pointed out to him, and through heavy
iron gates, up a winding carriage-way lined with elms and bordered
with daffodils, he made towards the only door he saw.

It was the main entrance to Government House, a low broad porch, with
a bench on either side and a cross-barred door of knotted oak.
Stephen Orry paused before it, looked nervously around, and then
knocked with his knuckles. He had walked six and twenty miles,
carrying the child all the way. He was weary, footsore, hungry, and
covered with dust. The child on his shoulder was begrimed and dirty,
his little face smeared in streaks, his wavy hair loaded and unkempt.
A footman in red and buff, powdered, starched, gartered and dainty,
opened the door. Stephen Orry asked for the Governor. The footman
looked out with surprise at the bedraggled man with the child, and
asked who he was. Stephen told his name. The footman asked where he
came from. Stephen answered. The footman asked what he came for.
Stephen did not reply. Was it for meal? Stephen shook