The Manxman Part 70

"Beg pardon, your honor--"

"Yes?"

"Your honour has eaten nothing at breakfast--and the bed wasn't slept in last night."

"I was riding late--then I had work to do."

"But I heard your foot on the floor---it woke me times."

"I may have speeches to make to-day.... Fetch me a gla.s.s of water."

Jemmy brought water-bottle and gla.s.s. As Philip took the water an icy numbness seemed to seize his arm. "I--well, I--I declare I can't lift--ah! thanks."

The man raised Philip's arm to his mouth; the gla.s.s rattled against his teeth while he drank.

"Pardon, your honour. You're looking ten years older lately. The sooner this day is over the better."

"Sleep, Jemmy--I only want sleep. I must have a long, long sleep at Ballure to-night."

He left the house at three minutes to three, carrying his cloak over his arm. It was a hot day at the beginning of June, and when he stepped out at the door the air of the street smote his face like a blast from an open furnace. He reeled and almost fell. The sun's heat was like a load on his head, its dazzling rays made his sight dim, and he had a sound in his ears like running water. As he walked down the street he caught his wandering reflection in the shop windows. "Jemmy was right," he thought.

"My worst enemy would not accuse me of looking too young to-day."

There was a small crowd about the entrance to Government offices.

Carriages were driving up, discharging their occupants and going on.

The Bishop, the Attorney-General, finally the Governor with his wife and daughter pa.s.sed into the house. In the commotion of these arrivals Philip reached the door un.o.bserved. When he was recognised, there was a sudden hush of voices, and then a low buzz of gossip. He walked through with a firm step, going in alone, all eyes upon him.

The doorway opens on a narrow pa.s.sage, which is neither wide nor very light, and the suns.h.i.+ne without made the gloom within more grey and uncertain. As Philip stepped over the threshold he was conscious that somebody was coming out. When he had taken two paces more, he drew up sharply with the sense of walking into a mirror. At the next instant he saw that what he had taken for the reflection of his own face in a gla.s.s was the actual face of another man.

The man was coming out as he went in. They were approaching each other.

At two paces more they were side by side. He looked at the man with creeping horror. The man looked at him with amazement and dread. Thus, eye to eye, they crossed and pa.s.sed. Then each turned his head over his shoulder and looked after the other, Philip stepping into the gloom, the stranger striding into the light.

At the next moment the narrow doorway was darkened by a ponderous figure rolling through. Then a heavy hand fell on Philip's shoulder, and a hearty voice exclaimed, "Hilloa, Christian; proud to see you, boy!

You've outstripped old stick-in-the-mud; but I always knew you would lead me the way though.... Funking a bit, are you? Hands like ice, anyway. Come along--nothing to be nervous about--we're not going to give you the dose of Illiam Dhone---don't martyr the Christians these days, you know."

Is was Philip's old master, the Clerk of the Rolls. Taking Philip's arm, he was for swinging him along; but Philip, still looking towards the street, said falteringly, "Did you, perhaps, see a man--a young man--going out at the door?"

"When?"

"As you came in."

"Was there?" said the Clerk dubiously; then, as by a sudden light, "Did he wear a round hat and a monkey-jacket?"

"Maybe--I hardly know--I didn't observe."

"That'll be the man. He's been at me half the morning for admission to the Council. Said he'd known you all his life. Bough as a thorn-bush, but somehow I couldn't say no to the fellow at last. He ought to be inside, though."

"It's nothing," thought Philip. "Only another shadow from a tired brain. Jemmy's talk about my altered looks--the reflection in the shop-windows--the sudden gloom after the dazzling sunlight--that's all, that's all. Sleep, I want sleep."

When the Governor took his seat with the first Deemster on his right, and motioned Philip to the chair on his left, an involuntary murmur pa.s.sed over the chamber at the contrast there presented--the one Deemster very old, with round, russet face, quick, gleaming eyes, and a comfortable, youthful, even merry expression; the other, very young, with long, pallid, powerful face, large eyes, and a tired look of age.

Philip presented his commission received from the Home Secretary, and the oath of office was administered to him. Kissing a stained copy of a leather-bound Testament, he repeated the words after the Governor in a thick croak that seemed to hack the air--

"By this book, and by the holy contents thereof, and by the wonderful works that G.o.d hath miraculously wrought in heaven above and on the earth beneath in six days and seven nights, I, Philip Christian, do swear that I will, without respect of favour or friends.h.i.+p, love or hate, loss or gain, consanguinity or affinity, envy or malice, execute the laws of this Isle justly, betwixt our Sovereign Lady the Queen and her subjects within this Isle, and betwixt party and party, as indifferently as the herring backbone doth lie in the midst of the fish."

As Philip p.r.o.nounced these words, he was conscious of only one face in that a.s.sembly. It was not the face of the Governor, of the Bishop, of any dignitary of Church or State--but a rugged, eager, dark face over a black beard in the grip of a great brown hand, with sparkling eyes, parted lips, and a look of boyish pride--it was the face of Pete.

"It only remains for me," said the Governor, "to congratulate your Honour on the high office to which it has pleased Her Majesty to appoint you, and to wish you long life and health to fulfil its duties, with blameless credit to yourself and distinction to your country."

There was some other speaking, and then Philip replied. He spoke clearly, firmly, and well. A reference to his grandfather provoked applause. His modesty and natural manner made a strong impression. "His Excellency is not so far wrong, after all," was the common whisper.

Some further business, and the Council broke up for general gossip.

Then, on the pavement outside, while the carriages were coming in line, there were renewed congratulations, invitations, and warnings. The Governor invited Philip to dinner. He excused himself, saying he had promised to dine with his aunt at Ballure. The ladies warned him to spare himself, and recommended a holiday; and then the Clerk of the Rolls, proud as a peac.o.c.k, strutting here and there and everywhere, and a.s.suming the airs of a guardian, cried, "Can't yet, though, for he holds his first court in Ramsey tomorrow morning.... Put on the cloak, Christian. It will be cold driving. Good men are scarce."

An open landau came up at length, with Jem-y-Lord on the box-seat, and Pete walking by the horse's head, smoothing its neck and tickling its ears.

"Why, you were talking of the young man, Christian, and behold ye, here's the great fellow himself. Well, young chap," slapping Pete on the back, "see your Deemster take the oath, eh?"

"He's my cousin," said Philip.

"Cousin! Is he, then--can he perhaps be--Ah! yes, of course, certainly------" The good man stammered and stopped, remembering the marriage of Philip's father. He opened the carriage door and stood aside for Philip, but Philip said--

"Step in, Pete;" and, with a shamefaced look, Pete rolled into the carriage. Philip took the seat beside him, amid a buzz of voices from the people standing about the door.

"Well, as you like; good day, then, boy, good day," said the Clerk of the Rolls, clas.h.i.+ng the door back. The carriage began to move.

"Good day, your Honour," cried several out of the crowd.

Philip raised his hat. The hats of the men went up to him. Some of the girls were wiping their eyes.

XIV.

While Pete and Philip were driving over the road from Douglas, Kate was sitting with the child on her lap before the fire in Elm Cottage. Her eyes were restless, her manner agitated. She looked out at the window from time to time. The setting sun behind the house still held the day with horizontal shafts of light in the spring green of the transparent leaves.

"Wouldn't you like to see the procession to-night, Nancy?" she said.

"Aw, mortal," said Nancy. "But I won't get lave, though. 'Take care of my two girls,' says he----"

"You may go, Nancy; I'll see to baby," said Kate.

"But the man himself, woman; he'll be coming home as hungry as a hunter."

"I'll see to his supper, too," said Kate. "Carry the key with you that you may let yourself in, and be back at half-past seven."

Then Nancy began to fly about the kitchen like sputter-ings out of the frying-pan--filling the kettle, lighting the lamp, and getting together the baby's night-clothes. Kate watched her and glanced at the clock.