“Pretty well, your Honour.”
“More cheerful and content?”
“Much more, except when your Honour is from home. 'The Deemster's back,' she'll say, and her poor face will be like sunshine on a rainy day.”
Philip remained silent for a moment, and then said in a scarcely audible voice—
“Not fretting so much about the child, Jemmy?”
“Just as anxious to hear of it, though. 'Has he been to Ramsey to-day? Did he see her? Is she well?' That's the word constant, sir.”
The Deemster was silent again, and Jem was withdrawing with a deep bow. “Jemmy, I'm going to Government House, and may be late. Don't wait up for me.”
Jem answered in a half whisper, “Some one waits up for your Honour whether I do or not 'He's at home now,' she'll say, and then creep away to bed.”
Philip muttered, thickly and huskily, “The decanter is empty—leave out another bottle.” Then he turned to go from the room, keeping his eyes from his servant's face.
He found the Governor as violent as before, and eager to fall on him before he had time to speak.