e Sun

ys he had signed articles as able seaman at the first English port of call. Then had followed punishments for sloth, punishments for ignorance, and punishments for not knowing the high-flavored language of his boatswain. After that had come bickerings, threats, scowls, oaths, and open ruptures with this chief of petty tyrants, ending with the blow of a marlin-spike over the big Icelander's crown, and the little boatswa

ssession of Stephen Orry it is not hard to guess. First, he was a hunted man, and only one who dare do anything dare open doors to him. Next, he was a foreigner, dumb for speech, and deaf for scandal, and therefore unable to learn more than his eyes could tell him of the woman who had given him shelter. Then the big Icelander was a handsome fellow; and the veriest drab that ever trailed a petticoat knows how to hide her slatternly habits while she is hankering

mob that kept up the jabbering of frogs at spawn-and Stephen Orry slouched after her in his blowzy garments with a downward, shame-faced, nervous look that his hulky manners could not conceal. Then what a wedding feast it was that followed! The little cabin in Port-y-Vullin reeked and smoked with men and women, and ran out on to the sand and pebbles of the beach, for the time of year was spring and the day was clear and warm. Liza's old lovers were there in troops. With a keg of rum

ies in arms, for bye-childers were common, and a gel's father didn't care in a general way to look like a fool; but Nary Crowe saw no harm in a bit of sweetheartin', and Cleave Kinley said no, of co

n ould bachelor, as the sayin

e others; and then there was a taste of

s Nary, lifting his cup

ur ear, woman," said Nary. "So h

s ashy pale, eyes fixed, and his brawny hands thrust deep into his pockets. At last, through the dense fumes within the hou

with a toss of the head; "near enough, p

man to work for her she became more idle than before, and with nothing to fear from scandal more reckless

the boats of Kane Wade-a shrewd Manxman, who found the big, dumb Icelander a skilful fisherman. Now he neglected his work, lost self-reliance, and lay about for hours, neither thinking nor feeling, but with a look of

to her freedom, a drain on her energy, something helpless and looking to her for succor. So the unnatural mother neglected it, and

but living with a woman who assumed that he must be a liar, he had ended by becoming one. He had no company save her company, for his slow wit had found it hard to learn the English tongue, and she alone could rightly follow him; he had no desires s

hungry, and wet and cold, leaving his mates at the door of the "Plough," where there was good company within and the cheer of a busy fire! Home! On reaching Port-y-Vullin he found the door open, the hea

bled the haft of his seaman's knife, and then by a

e said, and while he dried the child's pit

at before the hearth with the child at his breast, as any mother might do, for at length it had come to him to

wrapped the child in his ragged guernsey and put it to lie like a bundle where the fire could warm it. Then all being done he sat again,

as, and that of the blackest; and in the terror of his loneliness he trembled at the thought that some day his horrible dumb secret

. Then the bitter thought came that what she had suffered for him who had given him everything, he could never repay by one kind word or look. Lost she was to him forever and ever, and parted from him by a yet wider gulf than eight hundred mil

, that something had touched him on the shoulder, and that a gaunt shadow stood beside him. It

is Ra

ng in his clothes, he crouched lower at the

s of hate she

is Ra

er was the voice that rang within

from her lips, hardening it, brutalizing it, befouling it, was the mo

raging voice; but he crouched there still, wi

n his shoulder and shook

is light o' lov

ered from head to foot, flung her from

she is m

silence behind it. Liza stood looking in ter

ll had himself had two wives; the first had deserted him, and after an interval of six

ainst the law, but wha

msey. It was Deemster Lace-a bachel

ut yet she came away with one drop of solac

ch! it's happened to some of the best that's going. Now, if he'd beaten y

worse than any law of bishop or deemster. If she could she would not now put him away

some crocodile tears, vowed she daren't have tould it on no occount to no other mortha

ane Wade, who had newly turned Methodist, was there already, and told him-whittling a stick as he spoke-that the fishing was wo

Liza saw him coming, watched him from the door, and s

gn men all over the island, and would not work with them. The day after that Stephen tried Nary Crowe, the innkeeper, but Nary sai

, who had land, and asked for a croft of five a

"but I must have six pounds for

en was prompt to his engagement, but Kinley had gone on the mountains after some sheep. Stephen waited, and four h

reast. Again the woman saw him coming, again she s

to me," she thought,

t it. She might starve him, herself, and their child, but

to do, and he determined to fly away. Let it be anywhere-anywhere, if only out of the torture of her presence. One

month Stephen Orry worked up to his waist in water, and lived on barley bread and porridge. At the end of his job he had six and thirty shillings s

Ireland? Certainly he could

before a man could leave the Isle of Man he

e captain of the packet; and to t

nse to go away int

d the High Bailiff. "Are you leaving her

days to live with the woman who hated him. He was bound to her, he was leashed to her, and he must go begrimed and bedraggled to the dregs of

it Was just-and because he was a man and Rachel a woman, it was less than he deserved. So thinking, he sat himself down in his misery with resignation if not content, vowing never to lift his hand to the woman, h

broth; and lifted the barley out of his own bowl into the child's basin. In summer he had stripped off shoes and stockings to bathe the little one in the bay, and in winter he had wrapped the child in his jacket and gone bare-armed. It was now four years old and went everywhere with Stephen, astride on his broad back or

, found this a barrier between her and the child. It was only in his ignorance that he did it. But oh, stran

e vacant look would die away from Stephen's face; at play with him Stephen's great hulking legs would run hither and thither in ready willin

the woman, yet it was an awful thing that the child should continue to do so. Growing up in such an atmosphere, with such an example always present to his eyes, what would the child become? Soured, saddened, perhaps cunning, perhaps malicious; at le

y. Why had the child been born? Why had it not died? Would not the good God take it back to Himself

ught, and at length a strange and solemn idea took hol

elieve that it would not be sin but sacrifice to part with the thing he held dearest in all th

erybody that he had taken it to some old body in the south who had wished to adopt a child. So, with Sunlocks laughing and crowing astride his shoulder, he called at Kane Wade's house on Ballure one day, and told Bridget how he should miss the

g himself to carry them through, until one day, going up from the beach to

ledge of the way she had once spent his earnings, he himself gave her nothing now. But suddenly a dark thought cam

d combed his yellow hair, curling it over his own great undeft fingers, and put his best clothes

child for the last time, and also th

uch busy preparations, laughed much an

oing, father? O

ittle Sunlock

Church? What

ittle Sunloc

know-

made for the shore. His boat was lying aground there; he pushed it adrift, lifted the ch

in the boat before, and everythin

e me on the water some

tle Sunlo

s sinking behind the land, ver

all down eve'

ttle Sunlock

is s

ie

O

the soft red glow, and over

white birds

lling their young

nd on the headland th

r. What's it doing there by itself on the

lost, litt

somebody go and

nt face was fu

d, the air grew chill, the waters black, a

es the night go w

r world, lit

know-

. His eyes shone brightly, his mouth was parched, but he did not

the south. They were the lights of Laxey, where many happy children gladdened many happy firesides. He looked around. There was not a sail in sight, and

ittle one would sleep soon and then it would be easier done. So

s and sleep, l

sleepy,

ned again and fell once more, and

en't said

now, littl

n a little child, Guard me while in sl

to go to heaven,

N

y n

eep with-wit

child was asleep on Stephen's knees. Now was the

ormidable it was! The little soft hand in hi

earned over it. It cost him a struggle not to kis

in? By what right did he dare to come between this living soul and heaven? When did the Almighty God tell him what the after life of this babe was to be? St

et its face against it! Little Sunlocks was not to die

t sleeves go by in the darkness, with a sleeping child in his arms. The man was Stephen Orry, and he was sobbing li

r from a ship in the bay had been asking for him that

the house empty, except for his wife, and she lay outstretched on the floor. She was cold-she was dead; and in clay on t

, that drive the petty passio