At this the tremulous voice deepened, and stopped, and went on and stopped again, and when the words came once more they came in a deep, low sob, and the reader's head fell into his breast.
Not until the Psalm came to an end, and Ewan and Dan had reached the communion, and the vicar had begun the morning prayer, and Will-as-Thorn had sent out a blast from his pitch-pipe, was the hard tension of that moment broken.
When the morning service ended, the Deemster rose from his pew and hurried down the aisle. As usual, he was the first to leave the church. The ghostly smile with which he had witnessed the penance that had brought tears to the eyes of others was still on the Deemster's lip, and a chuckle was in his throat when at the gate of the churchyard he met Hommy-beg, whose face was livid from a long run, and who stood for an instant panting for breath.
"Well, well, well?" said the Deemster, sending the words like small shot into Hommy-beg's deaf ear.
"Terrible, terrible, terrible," said Hommy-beg, and he lifted his hands.
"What is it? What? What?"
"The young woman-body is dead in child-bed."
Then the ghostly smile fled from the Deemster's face.