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To avoid such of them as haunted the death-room of her husband, she had a bed made up on a couch in the parlour, and one morning she was found face downwards stretched out beside it on the floor. Then Philip's father's cousin, always called his Aunty Nan, came to Ballure House to bring him up.
He may be a wise man in every other relation, a shrewd man, a far-seeing and even a cunning man, but in this relation that of his own honour, his own fame, his own safety he is certain to be a blunderer, a bungler, and a fool. Such is the revenge of Nature, such is God's own vengeance! Philip was walking from Ballure House to Elm Cottage.
The next time Katherine Cregeen saw Peter Quilliam, he was sitting on the ridge of rock at the mouth of Ballure Glen, playing doleful strains on a home-made whistle, and looking the picture of desolation and despair. His mother was lying near to death. He had left Mrs.
"Fine night for a ride, Phil. Listen! That's the churning of the nightjar going up to Ballure glen. Well, good-night! Good-night, and God bless you, old fellow!" Kate inside heard the deadened sound of Philip's "Goodnight," the crunch of the mare's hoofs on the gravel and the clink of the bit in her teeth.
When he was not at work in Douglas he was expected to be at home with his aunt at Ballure. But neither absence nor the lapse of years served to lift him out of the reach of temptation. He had one besetting provocation to remembrance one duty which forbade him to forget Kate his pledge to Pete, his office as Dooiney Molla. Had he not vowed to keep guard over the girl? He must do it.
The old sailor died suddenly in a fit of drunkenness at a fair, and husband and wife came into possession of his house and property at Ballure. This did not improve the relations between them. The woman perceived that their positions were reversed. She was the bread-bringer now.
Her mother died when she was a child of twelve, and in the house of her uncle and her cousins she had been brought up among men and boys. It was about a girl. Her name was Mona Crellin; she lived on the hill at Ballure House, half a mile south of Ramsey, and was daughter of a man called Billy Ballure, a retired sea-captain, and hail-fellow-well-met with all the jovial spirits of the town.
"Does she continue to improve?" "As nice as nice, sir," said Grannie. Kate crept out of bed, stole to the window, hid behind the curtains, and listened intently. "What a mercy all goes well," he said; Kate could hear the heaving of his breath. "Is Pete about?" "No, but gone to Ramsey, sir," said Grannie. "It's like you'll meet him if you are going on to Ballure."
"I'm sure the young gentleman is that quiet and studdy," she said. "What are they doing on him?" "Only making him a full advocate, woman," said Kelly. "You don't say?" said Nancy. "He passed his examination before the Govenar's man yesterday." "Aw, there now!" "I took the letter to Ballure this evening." "It's like you would, Mr. Kelly. That's the boy for you. I'm always saying it.
It would be more exact to say he thought of Katherine and Grannie. He was homeless as well as penniless. The cottage by the water-trough was no longer possible to him, now that the mother was gone who had stood between his threatened shoulders and Black Tom. Philip was at home for a few weeks only in the year, and Ballure had lost its attraction.
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