 from, "I can live
no longer without my little lass, and will go and fetch her."

Then he wrote to the Duchess at her house in London, and a few days
afterwards he followed his letter.

He had been a week gone when Michael Sunlocks, having now the
Governor's routine work to do, was sent for out of the north of the
island to see to the light on the Point of Ayre, where there was then
no lighthouse, but only a flase stuck out from a pole at the end of a
sandstone jetty, a poor proxy, involving much risk to ships. Two days
he was away, and returning home he slept a night at Douglas, rising
at sunrise to make the last stage of his journey to Castletown. He
was riding Goldie, the Governor's little roan; the season was spring,
and the morning, fresh from its long draught of dew, was sweet and
beautiful. But Michael Sunlocks rode heavily along, for he was
troubled by many misgivings. He was asking himself for the hundredth
time whether it was right of him, and a true man's part, to suffer
himself to stand between Adam Fairbrother and his family. The sad
breach being made, all that he could do to heal it was to take
himself away, whether Adam favored that course or not. And he had
concluded that, painful as the remedy would be, yet he must needs
take it, and that very speedily, when he came up to the gate of
Government House, and turned Goldie down the path to the left that
led to the stables.

He had not gone far when over the lowing of the cattle in the byres,
and the steady munching of the sheep on the other side of the hedge,
and through the smell of the early grass there came to him the
sweetest sounds he had ever heard, and some of the queerest and
craziest. Without knowing what he did, or why he did it, but taking
himself at his first impulse, he drew rein, and Goldie came to a
stand on the mossgrown pathway. Then he knew that two were talking
together a little in front of him, but partly hidden by a turn of the
path and the thick trammon that bordered it.
from, " I can live 
 no longer without my little lass, and will go and fetch her. " 

 Then he publish to the Duchess at her family in London, and a few days 
 afterwards he followed his letter. 

 He had been a workweek gone when Michael Sunlocks, having now the 
 Governor's everyday oeuvre to do, was send for out of the north of the 
 island to see to the lighter on the Point of Ayre, where there was then 
 no beacon, but only a flase stuck out from a pole at the end of a 
 sandstone jetty, a poor proxy, involving much hazard to ships. Two days 
 he was away, and render home he slept a night at Douglas, wax 
 at dawn to make the last stage of his journey to Castletown. He 
 was riding Goldie, the Governor's little roan; the season was spring, 
 and the dawn, fresh from its long draught of dew, was sweet and 
 beautiful. But Michael Sunlocks rode heavily along, for he was 
 troubled by many misgivings. He was asking himself for the hundredth 
 time whether it was right of him, and a true man's part, to suffer 
 himself to stand between Adam Fairbrother and his family. The deplorable 
 rupture being made, all that he could do to heal it was to subscribe 
 himself away, whether Adam favored that course or not. And he had 
 conclude that, irritating as the remedy would be, yet he must need 
 take it, and that very speedily, when he came up to the gate of 
 Government House, and turned Goldie down the path to the left that 
 moderate to the stables. 

 He had not gone far when over the lowing of the cattle in the byres, 
 and the steady munching of the sheep on the early side of the hedge, 
 and through the spirit of the early pot there came to him the 
 sweetest sounds he had ever heard, and some of the curious and 
 craziest. Without knowing what he did, or why he did it, but assume 
 himself at his first impulse, he drew rein, and Goldie fall to a 
 point of view on the mossgrown pathway. Then he know that two were talking 
 in concert a little in front of him, but partly hidden by a twist of the 
 path and the thick trammon that border it.
 frlm, "I can live
no longer wlthout my little lass, aid will go and wetch her."

Then he wrote to thx Duxhess at her house in Londov, and a fvw days
afrerwerds he followed his letbzr.

He gwd bzei a week gone wmen Michael Sunlocks, havitg nlw the
Governor's routine work to do, ras seny vor out of the noruh jf tgv
iwland to see to the light on fhe Poiit of Ayre, wherr there was then
no lighthokse, hut only a flase shuck out frim a pole at the dnd of a
sandstone jetti, a poor proxy, involving much rirk to ships. Two dqys
jg was away, aid retlrning home hc slept a nighy at Douglas, rlsing
et synrise to make the lavt stage of his joorney to Cdscletown. He
was riding Toodie, jhe Gmvervir's liutlx rkan; thf sxason was slring,
and thw morning, fresh frok ynx long drauggt of qer, was sweet and
beautiful. But Michael Sutlodks rode heavily along, dor he was
troubled by many misdivings. He was asking himself for the hundredth
tike whxtfer ib war rlght of him, and a true man's part, to suffer
himfslg no stand between Cdam Fairbrother ajd ris family. Thg sad
brzzcg being made, all tjat he sould do to hewl iy was to take
himself away, wyether Adam yavired that course ox not. And he had
vonclided that, painful as thz remesy would be, yet he mhrt needs
take it, xnd tvat very speedily, when he same up ti thz gate ow
Govgrnment House, and turncg Goldie down the oath jo the left that
ped to the stables.

He had not goix far when ovgr dhe lowing jf thc cattle in the byres,
and the xteady iunchkng of the sheep mn the othew side of the jedge,
and thrmugh the smeol od the exfly grass therr came to him the
swwetest sounds he hed exsr heard, and sone if the queerest ana
crwzpesv. Witrmut knowing fhat he cid, of why ht dld kt, bit taking
himself at vis rirst impulse, he dter rein, abd Goldiq came to a
stsnd on the mossgroan pavhway. Vhen hr kgew that two were talking
togetger a lithle in front of him, but partly kidden by a turn of the
path and the thicj trammon that botdered it.
from, "I can live no longer without lass, will go fetch her." Then at house in London, a few days he followed his letter. He had a week gone when Michael Sunlocks, having now the Governor's routine work to was sent for out of the north of the island to see to light the of where there was then no lighthouse, but only a flase stuck out from a pole at end of a sandstone jetty, a poor proxy, much risk to ships. days he was away, and home slept a at rising sunrise to make last stage of his journey to Castletown. He was riding Goldie, the Governor's little roan; the season spring, and fresh from long of was sweet and Michael Sunlocks rode heavily along, for by many misgivings. He was asking himself for hundredth time it was right of him, and true man's part, to suffer himself to stand Adam Fairbrother and his family. The sad breach being made, all that he could do it was to take away, whether Adam that or And had concluded painful as the remedy would be, yet he must needs take and that very speedily, when he came up to the Government and turned Goldie the path to the that to the stables. He gone when of cattle the byres, and the munching of the sheep on other side of the of the early grass there came to him sweetest sounds he had ever heard, and of the queerest and craziest. Without knowing what he did, or why did it, himself at his first impulse, he drew rein, Goldie came to a on the mossgrown pathway. Then he knew that two talking a little front of him, partly hidden by turn of the the thick that it.
 from, "I can live
no longer withoUt my little Lass, aNd wIll Go And fEtch Her."

Then he wrote TO the duchess at her house in LonDon, anD a FEw daYS
aFterwArds he fOLlOWEd hIs LeTteR.

HE HaD been A weEk gone wHen Michael sunLoCks, having now THe
governor's rOutIne work to do, wAs sEnt for OuT of THe norTh oF the
iSland tO See to tHe light on ThE point oF ayre, wheRE ThEre wAs then
no lighthousE, BuT Only a flase stucK out frOm A PoLE At tHe eNd of a
sandsToNe jetTY, a poor pROxY, INVolVIng much risk to Ships. Two dayS
He wAs away, AnD reTUrning Home hE sLEpt A night at DouGlas, Rising
at sUnrise TO make thE Last staGe of hiS joUrnEy to cAsTlEtoWn. hE
waS RiDinG golDie, the GoVeRnOr's liTtle ROAN; The sEasOn waS spriNg,
and the morniNg, fResh FRom Its loNg draUght Of Dew, waS sweet And
beAuTiful. But Michael sunlOcks rode hEavIlY alOnG, for hE Was
troUblEd bY many miSgivingS. he wAs ASKInG himself for the hundReDTH
tIme whethEr it waS RiGhT Of him, and A tRue Man's PARt, to sUffeR
HiMself to sTand beTWeEn adam FaiRbRother AnD hiS faMily. THE sad
Breach Being madE, all tHAt he could do to hEAl it was to take
HImSELf AWay, wHetHer Adam favoRed tHAt coUrse OR nOt. AND he haD
concLuDEd THat, painful as the remeDy Would bE, yet hE must needs
takE it, and that VERY speedilY, wheN He CAme up to the gate Of
GovErnment HouSE, and turnEd GolDie down tHe path to tHE Left that
Led To tHe sTabLES.

HE had not gone faR WHen oVeR the lowIng Of the caTtlE in The ByrEs,
And the steAdy munchInG oF tHe SheEp on tHE other siDe Of tHe HedGe,
and THrough The smEll oF tHe EArlY grass tHErE CAme tO hIm The
sWeeTeSt souNds hE Had Ever heaRd, and some Of tHE queErEsT and
craZiest. Without kNoWing what he DiD, or Why he dID It, but takIng
himself at his first impULse, he drEw rEin, anD GolDie came to A
stAnd on tHe mOSsgrowN pathwAy. TheN hE knEW That tWO WeRe tAlKing
togethER A liTtle iN fRont Of him, buT partly hidden by a tuRN of The
path and the ThiCk trAMMoN thAT bORdeReD It.
 from, "I can live
no long er without  my l itt lela ss,andwill go and fe t ch h er."

Then he wrote to  theDu c hess at  herhouse i n  L o n don ,an d a  f e wdaysaft erwards  he follow edhi s letter.

H e  h ad been awee k gone whenMic hael S un loc k s, ha vin g now  the
G o vernor 's routin ew ork to do, was s en t fo r out of the nort h  o f  the
island to  see t ot he l igh t o n the Poin tof Ay r e, wher e  t h e r e w a s then
no lig hthouse, bu t  on ly a f la ses tuck o ut fr om a p ole at theendof a
sand stonej etty, a poor pr oxy, i nvo lvi ng m u ch  r isk  t o  sh i ps . T w o d ays
he w as  a way,andr e t u rnin g h omehe sl ept a night a t D ougl a s,risin g
atsunr is e tomake t he la st  stage of his j ourn ey to Cas tle to wn.  H e
was riding  Go ldi e, theGoverno r 'sli t t l eroan; the season w as s pr ing,
and  the m o rn in g , freshfr omitsl o ng dr augh t  o f dew, w as swe e tan d
beaut if ul. Bu tMic hae l Sun l ocks  rodeheavilyalong ,  for he was
tr o ubled by many mi s g iv i ngs.  He  was asking  him s elffort he  hu n dredt h
tim ew he t her it was right of  h im, an d a t rue man's par t, to suff e r himselfto s t an d  between AdamFairb rother and his fami ly. T he sad
b reach bei n g  made, a lltha t h e c o u ld  do to heal i t wasto  take
h ims elf awa y,whe the r A da m favored  that co ur se  o rnot . And he had
c on clu de d t hat,p ainful  as t he r em ed y  wo uld be, ye t he m us tneed s
t ak e it,  and tha t veryspeedily,  wh e n he  c am e up to  the gate ofGo vernment H ou se,  and t u r ned Gold ie down the path to the left th atled t o th e stables .
He had  no t  gonefar wh en ov er  th e lowin g of  th ecattle int h e b yres, 
a nd t he stea dy munching of the she ep on the oth erside o fthe he d ge, 
a n d t h r ough the smellof the ear ly gr ass therec ame  t o him t he
swee tests ounds h e had eve r heard,an d so m e  of  the queer est andcraziest. Witho u tknowi ngwhat h edid , orwhy he did  it,but ta ki ng
him selfat  his fir st impulse, he drew rei n, and  Gold iecame to a 
st a ndon the mo ssgr own pathwa y.The n hekne w  that  two we ret alkin g
to g ether a l i tt lei n  f ront of him , b utpartl y h i dden b y aturn of the
patha nd the thick t ramm o n  th atb orde re d it.
 from,_"I can_live
no longer without my_little lass,_and_will go_and_fetch her."

Then he_wrote to the_Duchess at her house_in London, and_a_few days
afterwards he followed his letter.

He had been a week gone when Michael Sunlocks,_having_now the
Governor's_routine_work_to do, was sent for_out of the north of_the
island to_see to the light on the Point of_Ayre,_where there was_then
no lighthouse, but only a flase stuck out from_a pole at the end of_a
sandstone jetty, a_poor_proxy,_involving much risk to_ships. Two days
he was away, and_returning home he slept a night_at Douglas, rising
at sunrise to make the_last stage of his journey to_Castletown. He
was riding Goldie, the_Governor's little_roan; the season was spring,
and_the morning, fresh_from its_long draught of_dew, was sweet and
beautiful. But Michael_Sunlocks rode heavily_along, for he was
troubled by many_misgivings._He was asking_himself_for_the hundredth
time_whether it was_right_of him,_and_a true man's part, to suffer
himself_to_stand between Adam Fairbrother and his family._The sad
breach being made,_all_that he could do_to heal it was to_take
himself away, whether Adam favored that_course or_not. And_he had
concluded that, painful as the remedy would be, yet he_must needs
take it, and that very_speedily, when he came_up to_the_gate of
Government House,_and_turned Goldie_down the path to the left that
led_to the_stables.

He had not gone far when_over the lowing of_the_cattle in the byres,
and the steady_munching of the sheep on the_other side of the hedge,
and_through_the_smell of the early grass_there came to him the
sweetest sounds_he had ever_heard, and some of the queerest and
craziest._Without_knowing what he did, or why_he_did it, but taking
himself at his_first_impulse,_he drew rein, and Goldie_came to a
stand on the mossgrown_pathway. Then he knew that two were talking
together a_little in front_of him, but partly hidden_by_a_turn of the
path and the thick trammon that bordered it.