The unhappy man was no longer in pain. His agony was beyond that. A sort of divine madness had taken possession of him. He was putting the world and the prince of the world behind his back. All this worldly glory and human gratitude was but the temptation of Satan. With God's help he would not succumb. He would resist. He would triumph over everything.
Jem-y-Lord twisted on the box-seat. “See, your Excellency! Listen!”
The flags of Castletown were visible on the Eagle Tower of the castle. Then there was a multitudinous murmur. Finally a great shout. “Now, boys! Three times three! Hip, hip, hurrah!”
At the entrance to the town an evergreen arch had been erected. It bore an inscription in Manx: “Dooiney Vannin, lhiat myr hoilloo”—“Man of Man, success as thou deservest.”
The carriage had slacked down to a walk.
“Drive quicker,” cried Philip.
“The streets are crowded, your Excellency,” said Jem-y-Lord.
Flags were flying from every window, from every roof, from every lamp-post. The people ran by the carriage cheering. Their shout was a deafening uproar.
Philip could not respond. “She will hear it,” he thought. His head dropped. He was picturing Kate in her cell with the clamour of his welcome coming muffled through the walls.
They took the road by the harbour. Suddenly the carriage stopped. The men were taking the horses out of the shafts. “No, no,” cried Philip.