y there
was quiet; as though he had paid the price, as though the long account
against him in the markets of life was closed and cancelled, and the
debtor freed from obligation for ever. Poignant impulses in her stilled,
pity lost its wounding acuteness. She shed no tears, but at last she
stretched out her hand and let it rest upon his forehead for a moment.

"Poor Philip!" she said.

Then she turned and slowly left the room, followed by the Chevalier, and
by the noiseless Dormy Jamais, who had crept in behind them. As Dormy
Jamais closed the door, he looked back to where the coffin lay, and in
the compassion of fools he repeated Guida's words:

"Poor Philip!" he said.

Now, during Philip's burial, Dormy Jamais sat upon the roof of the Cohue
Royale, as he had done on the day of the Battle of Jersey, looking down
on the funeral cortege and the crowd. He watched it all until the ruffle
of drums at the grave told that the body was being lowered--four ruffles
for an admiral.

As the people began to disperse and the church bell ceased tolling,
Dormy turned to another bell at his elbow, and set it ringing to call
the Royal Court together. Sharp, mirthless, and acrid it rang:

Chicane--chicane! Chicane--chicane! Chicane--chicane!

IN JERSEY-A YEAR LATER

CHAPTER XLVI

"What is that for?" asked the child, pointing. Detricand put the watch
to the child's ear. "It's to keep time. Listen. Do you hear it-tic-tic,
tic-tic?"'

The child nodded his head gleefully, and his big eyes blinked with
understanding. "Doesn't it ever stop?" he asked.

"This watch never stops," replied Detricand. "But there are plenty of
watches that do."

"I like watches," said the child sententiously.

"Would you like this one?" asked Detricand.

The child drew in a gurgling breath of pleasure. "I like it. Why doesn't
mother have a watch?"

The man did not answer the last question. "You like it?" he said again,
and he nodded his head towards the little fellow. "H'm, it keeps good
time, excellent time it keeps," and he rose to meet the child's mother,
who having just entered the room, stood looking at them. It was
Guida. She had heard the last words, and she glanced towards the watch
curiously. Detricand smiled in greeting, and said to her: "Do you
remember it?" He held up the watch.

She came forward eagerly. "Is it--is it that indeed, the watch that the
dear grandpethe--?"

He nodded and smiled. "Yes, it has never once stop