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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Crowded, your Excellency. "Keep the passages clear." "Yes, your Excellency." "Is the Clerk of the Court present?" "He is, your Excellency." "And the jailor?" "Downstairs, your Excellency." "Tell both they will be wanted." The constable turned the key of the door and left the room. Jem-y-Lord came puffing and perspiring. "The ex-Governor is coming over by the green, sir.
When Jem-y-Lord took the tea to his master's bedroom in the morning, the tray was almost banged out of his hands by the clashing back of the door, after he had pushed it open with his knee. The window was half up, and a cold sea-breeze was blowing into the room; yet the grate and hearth showed that a fire had been kindled in the night, and his master was still sleeping.
He had the face of a man who had fought a brave fight with life and been beaten, yet bore the world no grudge. Jem-y-Lord and the messenger were gone from the room in a moment, and the door was closed. "What d'ye think of that, Phil? Isn't she a lil beauty?" Pete was dancing the child on his knee and looking sideways down at it with eyes of rapture.
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.
Philip had fallen asleep. Jem-y-Lord entered with a letter. It was in a large envelope and had come by the insular post. "Shall I open it?" thought Auntie Nan. She had been opening and replying to Philip's letters during the time of his illness, but this one bore an official seal, and so she hesitated. "Shall I?" she thought, with the knitting needle to her lip. "I will.
Then, like a school-boy repeating his task, he read in a singsong voice the words that Jem-y-Lord had written: "Don't drink the brandy. Pete is trying to kill you." Pete made a grating laugh. "That's a pretty thing now," he began, but he could not finish.
In the Isle of Man such visions are understood to foretell death, and the man who sees them is said to "see his soul." But Philip had no superstitions. He knew what the vision was: he knew what the vision meant. Jem-y-Lord came in with hot water, and Philip, without looking round, said in a low tone as the door closed, "How now, my lad?"
The carriage was in the lane, and the driver Philip's servant, Jem-y-Lord stood with the door open. Kate stumbled on the step and fell into the seat. The door was closed. Then a new thought smote her. It was about the child, about Philip, about Pete. In leaving the little one behind her, though she had meant it so unselfishly, she had done the one thing that must be big with consequences.
It was nothing; it was a delusion of the sight; a mere shadow cast off by his distempered brain. He was passing at a walking pace through Laxey by this time, and as the horse's feet beat up the echoes of the sleeping town, his heart grew brave. Next day, at noon, he was talking with his servant, Jem-y-Lord, in his rooms in Athol Street. He had lately become tenant of the entire house.
He heard the old man go out; he heard his heavy step drop slowly down the stairs; he heard his foot dragging on the path outside. "Ugh cha nee! Ugh cha nee!" The word rang in his heart like a knell. Jem-y-Lord, who had been out in the town, came back in great excitement. "Such news, your Honour! Such splendid news!" "What is it?" said Philip, without lifting his head.
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