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Updated: June 26, 2025
Pete took off his hat. The gate was partly open. It was Saturday, and the organist was alone in the church practising hymns for Sunday's services. They passed through. The churchyard was an oblong enclosure within high walls, overlooked on its long sides by rows of houses. One of these rows was Athol Street, and one of the houses was the Deemster's. It was late afternoon by this time.
He could see them leaving their cards at his door and driving hurriedly off. They must do that much. It was the bitter pill which the Deemster's doings made them swallow. Then he could see his wife sitting alone, a miserable woman, despised envied, isolated, shut off from her own class by her marriage with the Deemster, and from his class by the Deemster's marriage with her.
Black Tom, who had stood during the Deemster's sentence with his bald head bent, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and leaving marks on his face, recovered his self-conceit as he was being hustled out of court. "You're right, Dempster," he cried. "Witchcraft isn't worth nothing now. Religion's the only roguery that's going these days. Your friend Cæsar was wise, sir.
At five in the evening the Deemster rose and said, "The Court will adjourn for an hour, gentlemen." Philip took his own refreshments in the Deemster's room Jem-y-Lord was with him then put off his wig and gown, and slipped through the prisoners' yard at the back and round the corner to Elm Cottage. It was now quite dark.
"What's he saying?" said a third. "Rambling in his head, poor thing," said a fourth. Pete turned them out all except Jem-y-Lord, who was still moistening the Deemster's face and opening his hands, which were now twitching and tightening. "Out of this! Out you go!" cried Pete hoarsely. "No use taking the anger with him the man's tried," they muttered, and away they went.
The tail of the monkey flapped on the Deemster's breast, and Philip crept away with a shiver. The sun was shining brightly outside the house, and the air was fresh and sweet. Remounting his horse, which was neighing and stamping at the gate, Philip rode hard to bring back a sense of warmth. At the "Fairy" he alighted and put up, and saw Grannie, who was laying tables in the mill.
Some one said the Deemster's heart was beating. They brought from another room a little ivory hand-glass and held it over the mouth. When they raised it the face of the mirror was faintly blurred. That little cloud on the glass seemed more bright than the shining tread of an angel on the sea. Jem-y-Lord took a sponge and began to moisten the cold forehead.
There was a slight pause, a questioning look, then a cold answer. "Of course, if you wish it; but your sense of duty " The ladies in the galleries bad ceased to flutter their fans, and the members of the House of Keys were shifting in their seats in the well below. The Clerk of the Deemster's Court pushed through to the space beneath the bench.
His colleague, the old Deemster, was stricken down by paralysis, and he was required to attend to both their duties. This made it necessary at first that all Deemster's Courts should be held in Castletown, and hence Ramsey saw him rarely. He spent his days in the Court-house of the Castle and his nights at home.
Jem-y-Lord, who was beating out the pillow, dropped it, in his fumbling, half over the Deemster's face, and looked at Pete in terror. Would this cruel delirium never break? Where was the doctor? Would he not come at all? Pete had risen to his feet, and was gazing down with a look of stupor. He had been thinking that Philip had robbed him of the child. Was it he who had robbed Philip?
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