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She framed her lips to speak, but the words were half uttered by the parson. The next thing she knew was that a stray hand was holding her hand. She felt more safe now that her poor cold fingers lay in that big warm palm. It was Pete, and he was speaking again. She did not so much hear him as feel his voice tingling through her veins. "I, Peter Quilliam, take thee, Katherine Cregeen "
Kate rose to her feet with a startled cry of joy, looked round eagerly, and then sat down again covered with confusion. It was the girl Christian Killip, a pale, weak, frightened creature, with the mouth and eyes of a hare. "Is Mr. Quilliam here?" she asked. "Here's the man himself, Christian," said Grannie. "What do you want with him?"
He's fond of your daughter, Cæsar, and wants your good-will to marry her." "Lord-a-massy!" cried Nancy Joe. "Dear heart alive!" muttered Grannie. "Peter Quilliam!" said Cæsar, "did you say Peter?" "I did, Mr. Cregeen, Peter Quilliam," said Philip stoutly, "my friend Pete, a rough fellow, perhaps, and without much education, but the best-hearted lad in the island.
"Bass, boy more bass, I tell thee." "We then sought nex' The soothing sex, Our swatearts at Port Erin." "Who is the man at all?" "Why, Capt'n Quilliam from Kimberley." "'Deed, man! Him that married with some of the Cæsar Glenmooar's ones?" "She's left him, though, and gone off with a wastrel." "You don't say?" "Well, I saw the young woman myself "
At seven that night Pete was smoking over the gate when Kelly the Thief came up with a brown paper parcel. "Parcel for you, Mr. Quilliam," said the postman, with the air of a man who knew something he should not know. Pete blinked and looked bewildered. "You don't say!" he said. "Well, if that's your name," began the postman, holding the address for Pete to read. Pete gave it a searching look.
"I'm a living man and not a ghost." "The man himself," said Black Tom. "Peter Quilliam alive and hearty," said Cæsar. "I am," said Pete. "And now, what's the bobbery between the pair of you? Shuperintending the beaching of my trunk, eh?" But having recovered from his terror at the idea that Pete was a spirit, Cæsar began to take him to task for being a living man. "How's this?" said he.
"Chut!" cried Cæsar, goaded by the laughter of Black Tom. "I'll call the man myself. Peter Quilliam!" and he made for the staircase door. "Stand back," cried Nancy, holding the child like a pillow over one of her arms, and lifting the other threateningly. "Aw, you'll never be raising your hand to the man of God, woman," giggled Black Tom.
Down, Dempster, down." It was Pete. He was greeted with loud welcomes, and soon filled the room all round with the steaming odour of spirits and water. "You've the Manx tongue at you still, Mr. Quilliam," said Jonaique; "and you're calling the dog Dempster; what's that for at all?" "For sake of the ould island, Mr.
So I gave the child my own name, though I didn't know the mother from Noah's aunt, and the big chaps standing round bareheaded began to blubber like babies. 'I baptize thee, Peter Quilliam, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. Then the girl died happy and aisy, and what for shouldn't she?
"'Respected Sir," read Jonaique, "'with pain and sorrow I write these few lines, to tell you of poor Peter Quilliam " "Aw boy veen, boy veen!" broke in Grannie. "'Knowing you were his friend in the old island, and the one he talked of mostly, except the girl " "Boy ve " "Hush, woman." "'He made good money out here, at the diamond mines "
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