W1 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
JAN VEDDER'S WIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 AMELIA E. BARR. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1885 
 
 BY 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. JAN'S WEDDING i 
 
 CHAPTER 11. A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. . 17 
 CHAPTER 111. JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. . . .36 
 CHAPTER IV. THE DESOLATED HOME. . . 54 
 
 CHAPTER V. SHIPWRECK 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI. MARGARET'S HEART. . . .94 
 CHAPTER VII. THE MAN AT DEATH'S DOOR. . 116 
 CHAPTER VI II. DEATH AND CHANGE. . . 140 
 CHAPTER IX. JAN AT HIS POST . . . .167 
 
 CHAPTER X. SWEET HOME 193 
 
 CHAPTER XI. SNORRO is WANTED. . . . 228 
 CHAPTER XII. SNORRO AND JAN. . . . 252 
 CHAPTER XIII. LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. . . 275 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. JAN'S RETURN 297 
 
 CHAPTER XV. LABOR AND REST. . . . 317 
 
JAN VEDDER'S WIFE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JAN'S WEDDING. 
 
 ,'-' Eastward, afar r the coasts of men were seen 
 Dim, shadowy, and spectral ; like a still 
 Broad land of spirits lay the vacant sea 
 Beneath the silent heavens-^here arid there, 
 Perchance, a vessel skimmed the watery waste, ; 
 Like a white-winged sea-bird, but it moved 
 ; , Too pale and small beneath the vail of space. 
 There, too, went forth the sun 
 Like a white angel, going down to visit 
 The silent, ice^ washed cloisters of the Pole. " 
 
 RICHTER'S " TITAN;" 
 
 MORE than fifty years ago this thing hap- 
 pened : Jan Vedder was betrothed to 
 Margaret Fae. It was at the beginning of the 
 Shetland summer, that short interval of inex- 
 pressible beauty, when the amber sunshine lin- 
 gers low in the violet skies 'from week to week ; 
 and the throstle and the lark sing at midnight, 
 
a JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and the whole land has an air of enchantment, 
 mystic, wonderful, and far off. 
 
 In the town of Lerwick all was still, though 
 it was but nine o'clock ; for the men were 
 at the ling-fishing, and the narrow flagged 
 street and small quays were quite deserted. 
 Only at the public fountain there was a little 
 crowd of women and girls, and they sat around 
 its broad margin, with their water pitchers and 
 their knitting, laughing and chatting in the 
 dreamlike light. 
 
 " Well, and so Margaret Fae marries at last ; 
 she, too, marries, like the rest of the world." 
 
 " Yes, and why not ? " 
 
 "As every one knows, it is easier to begin 
 that coil than to end it; and no one has ever 
 thought that Margaret would marry Jan he 
 that is so often at the dance, and so seldom at 
 the kirk." 
 
 "Yes, and it is said that he is not much of 
 a man. Magnus Yool can wag him here ; and 
 Nicol Sinclair send him there, and if 
 Suneva Torr but cast her nixie-eyes on him, 
 he leaves all to walk by her side. It is little 
 mind of his own he hath ; besides that, he is 
 hard to deal with, and obstinate." 
 
JAN'S WEDDING. 3 
 
 " That is what we all think, Gisla ; thou alone 
 hast uttered it. But we will say no more of 
 Jan, for oft ill comes of women's talk/' 
 
 The speakers were middle-aged women who 
 had husbands and sons in the fishing fleet, and 
 they cast an anxious glance toward it, as they 
 lifted their water pitchers to their heads, and 
 walked slowly home together, knitting as they 
 went. Lerwick had then only one street of 
 importance, but it was of considerable length, 
 extending in the form of an amphitheater 
 along the shore, and having numberless little 
 lanes or closes, intersected by stairs, running 
 backward to an eminence above the town. The 
 houses were generally large and comfortable, 
 but they were built without the least regard to 
 order. Some faced the sea, and some the land, 
 and the gable ends projected on every side, 
 and at every conceivable angle. Many of their 
 foundations were drilled out of the rock 
 upon the shore, and the smooth waters of the 
 bay were six feet deep at the open doors or 
 windows. 
 
 The utmost quiet reigned there. Shetland 
 possessed no carts or carriages, and only the 
 clattering of a shelty's gallop, or the song of a 
 
JA N 'VEbDEft ' S WIFE. 
 
 'Sailor disturbed the 'echoes. ! The 
 \vhole jbl'ace had a singular, old-world look^ and 
 the names over the doors carried ! bne back to 
 MrseTaVid arid the" Vikings. : For in these 
 houses their children 1 dwelt, still as amphibious 
 as their forefathers, spending 'most of their 
 lives upon the sea, rarely sleeping under a roof, 
 or warming themselves at a cottage fire*; a rug- 
 ged, pious, silent race, yet subject, as all Norse- 
 men are, to fits of passionate and uncontrolla- 
 ble emotion. : ( ; 
 
 Prominently among the Thorkels and Hal- 
 cros, -the Yools aiid Traills, stood out the name 
 of Peter Fae. Peter had the largest ' store in 
 Lerwickj lie had the largest fisri-cu'ring shed, he 
 Was the largest boat owner. His 'house of 
 white stone outside the town was two stories 
 high, and handsomely furnished ; and it was 
 said that he would be able to leave v 'his daugh- 
 ter Margaret lb,6oo; a very large fortune for 
 a Shetland girl. Peter was a Norseman of pro- 
 rioun6ed type, and had the massive face arid 
 loose-limbed strength of his race, its faculty 
 for money-getting, and its deep religious sen- 
 tirrveht.' Perhaps it would be truer to say, its 
 deep Protestant sentiment, for Norsemen 'have 
 
JAN'S WEDDING. $ 
 
 always been Protestants ; they hated the Rom- 
 ish church as soon as they heard of it. 
 
 If: the Anglo-Saxon or Anglo-American 
 wishes tb see whence came the distinguishing 
 traits' of his race, let him spend a few weeks 
 among the Shetland Norsemen, for they have 
 pre-eminently those qualities we are' accus- 
 tomed to pride ourselves upon possessing the 
 open air freshness of look, the flesh and blood 
 warmth of grip, the love of the sea, the reso- 
 lute earnestness of being and doing, the large, 
 clear sincerity of men accustomed to look 
 stern realities in the face. 
 
 Peter's wife, Thora, was also of pure Norse 
 lineage, and in many an unrecognized way 
 her ancestors influenced her daily life. She 
 had borne four sons, but, in the expressive 
 form of Shetland speech, "the sea had got 
 them ;" and her daughter Margaret was the 
 sole inheritor of their gathered gold. Thora 
 was a proud, silent woman/whose strongest 
 affections were with her children in their lonely 
 sea graves. In her heart, deeper down than 
 her faith could reach, Jay a conviction that the 
 Faes and Thorkels who had sailed those seas 
 for centuries 'had -"called " her boys to them. 
 
6 JAN TEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 And she was always nursing an accusation 
 against herself for a rite which she had ob- 
 served for their welfare, but which she was now 
 sure had been punished by their death. For 
 often, when they had been tossing on the black 
 North Sea, she had gone to the top of the hill, 
 and looking seaward she had raised from the 
 past the brown-sailed ships, and the big yel- 
 low-haired men tugging at their oars ; and in 
 her heart there had been a supplication to their 
 memory, which Peter, had he known it, would 
 have denounced, with the sternest wrath, as 
 neither more nor less than a service to Satan. 
 
 But what do we know of the heart nearest to 
 our own? What do we know of our own 
 heart ? Some ancestor who sailed with Offa, 
 or who fought with the Ironsides, or protested 
 with the Covenanters, or legislated with the 
 Puritans, may, at this very hour, be influencing 
 us, in a way of which we never speak, and in 
 which no other soul intermeddles. 
 
 Thora had one comfort. Her daughter was 
 of a spirit akin to her own. Peter had sent 
 her to Edinburgh, hoping that she would bring 
 back to his northern home some of those low- 
 land refinements of which he had a shadowy 
 
JAN'S WEDDING. 1 
 
 and perhaps exaggerated idea. But Margaret 
 Fae's character was not of that semi-fluid 
 nature which can easily be run into new 
 molds. She had looked with distrust and 
 dislike upon a life which seemed to her artifi- 
 cial and extravagant, and had come back to 
 Shetland with every Norse element in her 
 character strengthened and confirmed. 
 
 What then made her betroth herself to Jan 
 Vedder? A weak, wasteful man, who had 
 little but his good-natured, pleasant ways and 
 his great beauty to recommend him. And yet 
 the wise and careful Margaret Fae loved him ; 
 loved him spontaneously, as the brool: loves to 
 run, and the bird loves to sing. 
 
 " But bear in mind, husband," said Thora, on 
 the night of the betrothal, " that this thing is 
 of thy own doing. Thou hired Jan Vedder, 
 when thou couldst well have hired a better 
 man. Thou brought him to thy house. Well, 
 then, was there any wonder that ill-luck should 
 follow the foolish deed ? " 
 
 "Wife, the lad is a pleasant lad. If he had 
 money to even Margaret's tocher, and if he 
 were more punctual at the ordinances, there 
 would be no fault to him." 
 
8 JAN TEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " So I think, too. But when a man has hot 
 religion, and has beside empty pockets, then 
 he is poor for both worlds. -It seems, then, 3 
 that our Margaret must marry with a poor 
 man. And let me tell thee, it Was a little thing 
 moved thee, for ' because Jan .had a handsome 
 face, and a bright smile, thou liked him.'* 
 
 " Many a sore heart folks get who set liking 
 before judgment. But if there is good in the 
 lad, then to. get married will bring it out." 
 
 .''.That is as it may- be. Often I have seen it 
 bring out ill. Can any one tell if a man be 
 good' dr ill, unless they dwell under the same 
 tp.of with him? Abroad, who is so pleasant as 
 Ragon Torr? But at home, every body there 
 has to look to his wishes." 
 
 At this point in the conversation, Margaret 
 entered. She was a tall, straight girl, with a 
 finely-featured, tranquil face, admirably framed 
 iri 'heavy coils of hair that were yellow as dawn. 
 Her complexion was exquisite, and her eyes 
 blue, and cool, and calm. She was still and 
 passionless in manner, but far from being cold 
 at heart ; nevertheless, her soul, with the 
 purify of crystal, had something also of its 
 sharp angles ; something which might perhaps 
 
JAN'S WEDDING. 9 
 
 become hard and cutting. She carried herself 
 loftily, arid walked with an air of decision. 
 Peter looked at her steadily and said : 
 
 "Now,, thou hast done ill, Margaret. When 
 a young girl marries, she must face life for her- 
 self ; and many are the shoulders that ask for 
 burdens they can not bear." 
 
 "Yes, indeed ! Anditisall little to my mind," 
 added the mother. " I had spoken to thee for 
 thy cousin Magnus Hay; and then here comes 
 this Jan Vedder ! " 
 
 "Yes, he comes!" and Margaret stood 
 listening, the pink color on her cheeks spread- 
 ing to the tips of her ears, and down her white 
 throat* " Yes, he comes ! " and with the words, 
 Jan stood in the open door. A bright, hand- 
 some fellow he was! There was no one in all 
 the Islands that was half so beautiful. 
 
 " Peter, " he cried joyfully, "here has hap- 
 pened great news! The ' Sure-Giver 'is in the 
 harbor with all her cargo safe. She came 
 in with the tide. All her planks and nails are 
 lucky. ' 
 
 ; " That is great news, surely, Jan. But it is 
 ill luck to talk of good luck. Supper is ready 
 sit down with us." 
 
ro JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 But Thora spoke no word, and Jan looked at 
 Margaret with the question in his eyes. 
 
 " It means this, and no more, Jan. I have 
 told my father and mother that thou would 
 make me thy wife." 
 
 "That is what I desire, most of all things." 
 
 " Then there is little need of long talk. I 
 betroth myself to thee here for life or death, Jan 
 Vedder ; and my father and my mother they 
 are the witnesses ; " and as she spoke, she went 
 to Jan, and put her hands in his, and Jan drew 
 her proudly to his breast and kissed her. 
 
 Thora left the room without a glance at the 
 lovers. Peter stood up, and said angrily : 
 " Enough, and more than enough has been said 
 this night. No, Jan ; I will not put my palm 
 against thine till we have spoken together. 
 There is more to a marriage than a girl's * Yes ', 
 and a wedding ring." 
 
 That was the manner of Jan's betrothal ; and 
 as he walked rapidly back into the town, there 
 came a feeling into his heart of not being quite 
 pleased with it. In spite of Margaret's affec- 
 tion and straightforward decision, he felt 
 humiliated. 
 
 " It is what a man gets who wooes a rich wife/ 1 
 
JAN'S WEDDING. II 
 
 he muttered ; " but I will go and tell Michael 
 Snorro about it. And he smiled at the prospect, 
 and hurried onward'to Peter's store. 
 
 For Michael Snorro lived there. The open- 
 ing to the street was closed ; but the one 
 facing the sea was wide open ; and just within 
 it, among the bags of feathers and swans' down, 
 the piles of seal skins, the barrels of whale oil, 
 and of sea-birds' eggs, and the casks of smoked 
 geese, Michael was sitting. The sea washed 
 the warehouse walls, and gurgled under the 
 little pier, that extended from the door, but it 
 was the only sound there was. Michael, with 
 his head in his hands, sat gazing into the 
 offing where many ships lay at anchor. At the 
 sound of Jan's voice his soul sprang into his 
 face for a moment, and he rose, trembling with 
 pleasure, to meet him. 
 
 In all his desolate life, no one had loved 
 Michael Snorro. A suspicion that " he was 
 not all there," and therefore " one of God's 
 bairns," had insured him, during his long orphan- 
 age, the food, and clothes, and shelter, neces- 
 sary for life ; but no one had given him love. 
 And Michael humbly acknowledged that he 
 could not expect it, for nature had been cruelly 
 
12 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 unkind to him. He was, indeed, of almost gigan- 
 tic size, but awkward and ill-proportioned. 
 His face, large and flat, had the whiteness of 
 clay, except at those .rare intervals when his 
 soul shone through it; and no mortal, but Jan 
 Redder, had ever seen that illumination. 
 
 It would be as hard to tell why Michael 
 loved Jan as to say why Jonathan's soulclave 
 to David as soon as he saw him. Perhaps it- 
 was an unreasonable affection, but it was one 
 passing the love of woman, and, after all, can 
 we guess how the two men may have been, 
 spiritually related? There was some tie of 
 which flesh and blood knew not between them. 
 
 " Michael, I am going to be married." 
 
 " Well, Jan and what then ?," 
 
 " It will be with me as others ; I shall have 
 children, and grow rich, and old, and die." 
 
 "Who is it, Jan? " 
 
 " Margaret Fae." 
 
 "I thought that. Well, thou art sunshine, 
 Jan, and she is like a pool of clear water. If 
 the sun shines not, then the water will freeze, 
 and grow cold and hard." . 
 
 ,"Thou dost not like women, Michael." 1 
 
 "Nay, but I trust them not. Where the 
 
JAN'S WEDDING. 13 
 
 devil can not go, he sends a woman. Well, 
 then, he will find no such messenger for me. 
 He must come himself. That is well ; the fight 
 will be easier." ; -vv - 
 
 " When I am married I shall sail my own 
 boat, and thou shalt be always with me, Michael. 
 We will feel the fresh wind blowing in the can- 
 vas, and the salt spindrift in our faces, and the 
 boat going as if she were a solan flying for the 
 rock." 
 
 "Is that thy thought, then? Let me tell 
 thee that thou art counting thy fish while they 
 are swimming. Until Peter Fae's hands are 
 full of earth, he will not part with one gold 
 piece. Make up thy mind to that" 
 
 " Margaret will have her tocher." 
 
 " That will be seen ; but if thou wants money, 
 Jan, there it is in my chest, and what greater 
 joy can I have than to see it in thy hand all 
 of it? It would be thy grace to me." 
 
 Then Jan rose up and laid his arm across 
 Michael's shoulder ; and Michael's lifted face 
 caught the glow of Jan's bending one, and the 
 men's souls spoke to each other, though their 
 lips never parted. 
 
 The next day proved Michael right. Peter 
 
14 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 did not name Margaret's tocher. He said he 
 would give Margaret a house with all needfu) 
 plenishing; and he promised also to pay all 
 the wedding expenses. . But there was no word 
 of any sum of ready money ; and Jan was too 
 proud in his poverty to ask for his right. He 
 did, indeed, suggest that when he was a house- 
 holder he should have more wages. But Peter 
 would not see the justice of any such addition. 
 " I give thee all thou art worth, and I will not 
 give thee a Scotch merk more," he answered 
 roughly. " \Vhen it comes to a question of 
 wage, Jan, the son and the stranger are the 
 same to me/' And when Jan told his friend 
 what had been promised, Michael said only: 
 " Well, then, thou wilt have the woman also." 
 
 The twelfth of August is "the fisherman's 
 foy" in Shetland, and the great feast of 
 the Islands. It was agreed, therefore, that the 
 marriage should take place at that time. For 
 there would be at least two hundred fishing 
 vessels in Brassy Sound at that time, and with 
 most of the fishermen Peter either had had 
 business, or might have in the future. 
 
 " For three days we will keep the feast for 
 all who choose to come/' he-said ; and so, when 
 
JAN'S WEDDING. 15 
 
 the procession formed for the church, nearly six 
 hundred men and women were waiting to follow 
 Jan and his bride. Then Jan led her to the 
 front of it, and there was a murmur of wonder 
 and delight. Her dress was of the richest white 
 satin, and her heavy golden ornaments the heir- 
 looms of centuries gave a kind of barbaric 
 splendor to it. The bright sunlight fell all over 
 her, and added to the effect ; and Jan, with 
 a bridegroom's pardonable pride, thought she 
 looked more than mortal. 
 
 Going to the church, the procession preserved 
 the gravity of a religious rite ; but on the re- 
 turn, some one touched lightly the strings of a 
 violin, and, in a moment, hundreds of voices 
 were chanting: 
 
 " It is often that I have said it : In the night 
 thou art my dream, and my waking thought in 
 the morning. 
 
 " I loved thee always ; not for three months, 
 not for a year, but I loved thee from the first, and 
 my love shall not wither, until death part us. 
 
 " Oh, my beloved ! My wife ! Dearer to 
 me than the light of the day! Closer to me 
 than my hands and feet ! Nothing but death 
 shall part thee and me, forever \ " 
 
l6 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 The singing opened their hearts ; then came 
 the feast and the dance, that endless active 
 dance which is the kind of riot in which grave 
 races give vent to the suppressed excitement of 
 their lives. It did not please Margaret ; she was 
 soon weary of the noise and commotion, and 
 heartily glad when, on the eve of the third 
 day, she was called upon to give the parting 
 toast : 
 
 " Here's to the men who cast the net, and 
 the long line," she cried, lifting the silver cup 
 above her head, " And may He hold His hand 
 about them all, and open the mouth of the 
 gray fish ! " 
 
 "And here's to the bride,'* answered the 
 oldest fisher present, "and may God give her a 
 blessing in both hands ! " 
 
 Then they separated, and some went to their 
 homes in Lerwick and Scalloway, and others 
 sailed to Ireland and Scotland, and even Hol- 
 land ; but Peter knew that however much the 
 feast had cost him, it was money put out at 
 good interest, and that he would be very 
 likely to find it again at the next fishing season. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 
 '* All the flowers of Love and Happiness blow double." 
 
 AS it happened that year the peerie, or 
 Indian summer, was of unusual length 
 and beauty. The fine weather lingered until 
 the end of October. These weeks were full of 
 joy to Margaret and to Jan, and in them Jan 
 showed himself in many a charming light. He 
 played well upon the violin, and as long as 
 love was his theme Margaret understood him. 
 He. recited to her stirring stories from the 
 Sagas, and she thought only how handsome 
 he looked with his flashing eyes, and flushing 
 face. She never reflected, that the soul which 
 could put life into these old tales was very 
 likely to be a soul akin to the restless adven- 
 turous men of which they told. Her home 
 and her love were sufficient for her happiness. 
 
16 fAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and she expected that Jan would measure his 
 desires by the same rule. 
 
 But in a few weeks Jan began to weary a 
 little of a life all love-making. Many things, 
 laid aside for a time, renewed their influence 
 over him. He wished to let the romance and 
 exaggeration of his married position smk into 
 that better tenderness which is the repose of 
 passion, and which springs from the depths of 
 a man's best nature. But Margaret was not 
 capable of renunciation, and Jan got to be 
 continually afraid of wounding her sensibili- 
 ties by forgetting some outward token of 
 affection. He tried to talk to her of his proj- 
 ects, of his desire to go to sea again, of his 
 weariness of the store. She could understand 
 none of these things. Why should he want to 
 leave her? Had he ceased to love her? Her 
 father was happy in the store. It offended her 
 to hear a word against it. Yet she thought 
 she loved Jan perfectly, and would have deeply 
 resented Michael Snorro's private verdict 
 against her that she was a selfish woman. 
 
 One morning, as the first snow was beginning 
 to fall, a big Dutch skipper in his loose tunic 
 and high cap, and wooden clogs, came stalking 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 19 
 
 into Peter's store, and said, " Well, here at 
 last comes 'The North Star.' Many of us 
 thought she would come no more." 
 
 Jan was packing eggs, but he signed to 
 Michael to take his place, and in a few minutes 
 he was among the crowd watching her arrival. 
 She came hurrying in, with all her sails set, as 
 if she were fleeing from the northern winter 
 behind her. Her stout sides were torn by 
 berg and floe, her decks covered with seal 
 skins and jawbones of whales, and amidships 
 there was a young polar bear growling in a 
 huge cask. Her crew, weather-beaten and 
 covered with snow and frost, had the strange 
 look of men from lands unknown and far off. 
 Jan had once sailed in her, and her first mate 
 was his friend. It was like meeting one from 
 the dead. Proudly and gladly he took him to 
 his home. He wanted him to see his beauti- 
 ful wife. He was sure Margaret would be 
 delighted to welcome a man so brave, and so 
 dear to him. 
 
 On the contrary, it was a deep offense to her. 
 Christian Groat, in his sheepskin suit, oily and 
 storm-stained, unkempt and unshorn, seemed 
 strangely out of place in her spotless room. 
 
20 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 That he had fought with the elements, and 
 with the monsters of the deep, made him no 
 hero in her eyes. She was not thrilled by his 
 adventures upon drifting floes, and among ice 
 mountains reeling together in perilous madness. 
 The story made Jan's blood boil, and brought 
 the glistening tears into his big blue eyes ; but 
 Margaret's pulses beat no whit quicker. Chris- 
 tian Groat was only a vulgar whaler to her, and 
 that Jan should bring him to her hearth and 
 table made her angiy. 
 
 Jan was hurt and humiliated. The visit from 
 which he had hoped so much, was a pain and a 
 failure. He walked back into the town with 
 his friend, and was scarcely able to speak. 
 Margaret also was silent and grieved. She 
 thought Jan had wronged her. She had to 
 make a clean cushion for the chair in which the 
 man had sat. She persisted for days in smelling 
 whale oil above the reek of the peat, above even 
 the salt keenness of the winter air. Her father 
 had never done such a thing ; she could not 
 understand Jan's thoughtlessness about her. 
 
 For two days she was silent, and Jan bore it 
 very well, for he, too, was hurt and angry. On 
 the third he spoke to his wife, and little by 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD ttf THE SKY. 21 
 
 little the coolness wore away. But an active 
 quarrel and some hard words had perhaps been 
 better, for then there might have followed 
 some gracious tears, and a loving reconciliation. 
 As it was, the evenings wore silently and gloom- 
 ily away. Margaret sat, mechanically knitting, 
 her beautiful face wearing an expression of 
 injury and resignation that was intolerably 
 anr/oying to a man of Jan's temper. But though 
 she said nothing to her husband during these 
 unhappy hours, the devil talked very plainly in 
 her place. 
 
 " Why," he asked Jan, " do you stay beside 
 a sulky woman, when there are all your old 
 companions at Ragon Torr's? There, also, 
 is the song and the tale, and the glass of good- 
 fellowship. And who would be so heartily 
 welcome as Jan Vedder ? " 
 
 . Jan knew all this well. But as he did not 
 care to make his wife unhappy, he determined 
 to deceive her. It was snowing, and likely to 
 snow ; Margaret would not come down to the 
 store in such weather. So he said to her, 
 " Michael Snorro hath a fever. He can not 
 work. That is a bad business, for it is only I 
 that can fill his place. The work will keep me 
 
22 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 late, wait not for me. ' To himself he said ; 
 " To leave her alone a few nights, that will be 
 a good thing ; when I stay next at my own 
 hearth, she may have something to say to me.'* 
 
 Margaret's nature was absolutely truthful. 
 She never doubted Jan's words. In that love 
 of self which was a miserable omnipresence with 
 her, she was angry with Snorro for being sick 
 and thus interfering in her domestic life, but 
 she fully believed her husband's statement. 
 
 Jan spent two evenings at Ragon Torr's, but 
 on the third morning his conscience smote him 
 a little. He looked at Margaret, and wished 
 she would ask, " Wilt thou come home early 
 to-night ? " He would gladly have answered 
 her, " I will come at whatever hour thou 
 desirest." But, unfortunately, Margaret was at 
 that moment counting her eggs, and there were 
 at least two missing. She was a woman who 
 delighted in small economies ; she felt that she 
 was either being wronged by her servant, or 
 that her fowls were laying in strange nests. 
 At that moment it was a subject of great 
 importance to her ; and she never noticed the 
 eager, longing look in Jan's eyes. 
 
 When he said at last, " Good-by to thee, Mar- 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY.. 23 
 
 garet ; " she looked up from her basket of eggs 
 half reproachfully at him. She felt that Jan 
 might have taken more interest in her loss. She 
 had not yet divined that these small savings of 
 hers were a source of anger and heart-burning to 
 him. He knew well that the price of her end- 
 less knitting, her gathered eggs, wool, and 
 swans' down, all went to her private account in 
 Lerwick Bank. For she had been saving 
 money since she was a child six years old, and 
 neither father, mother, nor husband knew how 
 much she had saved. That was a thing Mar- 
 garet kept absolutely to herself and the little 
 brown book which was in her locked drawer. 
 There had been times when Jan could have 
 opened it had he desired ; but he had been too 
 hurt and too proud to do so. If his wife could 
 not voluntarily trust him, he would not solicit 
 her confidence. And it had never struck Mar- 
 garet that the little book was a hidden rock, 
 on which every thing might yet be wrecked. It 
 was there, though the tide of daily life flowed 
 over it, and though it was never spoken of. 
 
 All that day Jan was sulky and obstinate, 
 and Peter came near quarreling with him more 
 than once. But Peter thought he knew what 
 
24 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 was the matter, and he smiled grimly to him- 
 self as he remembered Margaret's power of 
 resistance. Perhaps a fellow-feeling made him 
 unusually patient, for he remembered that 
 Thora had not been brought to a state of 
 perfect obedience until she had given him 
 many a day of active discomfort. He watched 
 Jan curiously and not without sympathy, for 
 the training of wives is a subject of interest 
 even to those who feel themselves to have been 
 quite successful. 
 
 During the first hours of the day Jan was 
 uncertain what to do. A trifle would have 
 turned him either way, and in the afternoon 
 the trifle came. A boat arrived from Kirkwall, 
 and two of her crew were far-off cousins. The 
 men were in almost as bad condition as Chris- 
 tian Groat. He would not risk soiling Marga- 
 ret's chair-cushions again, so he invited them 
 to meet him at Ragon Torr's. As it happened 
 Margaret had an unhappy day ; many little 
 things went wrong with her. She longed for 
 sympathy, and began to wish that Jan would 
 come home ; indeed she was half inclined to 
 go to the store, and ask him if he could 
 not. 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 25 
 
 She opened the door and looked out. It 
 vas still snowing a little, as it had been for a 
 month. But snow does not lie in Shetland, 
 and the winters, though dreary and moist, are 
 dot too cold for the daisy to bloom every where 
 at Christmas, and for the rye grass to have 
 eight or ten inches of green blade. There was 
 a young moon, too, and the Aurora, in a phal- 
 anx of rosy spears, was charging upward to 
 the zenith. It was not at all an unpleasant 
 night, and, with her cloak and hood of blue 
 flannel, a walk to the store would be easy and 
 invigorating. 
 
 As she stood undecided and unhappy, she 
 saw a man approaching the house. She could 
 not fail to recognize the large, shambling 
 figure. It was Michael Snorro. A blow from 
 his mighty hand could hardly have stunned her 
 more. She shut the door, and sat down sick 
 at heart. For it was evident that Snorro was 
 not ill, and that Jan had deceived her. Snorro, 
 too, seemed to hesitate and waver in his inten- 
 tions. He walked past the house several times, 
 and then he went to the kitchen door. 
 
 In a few minutes Elga Skade, Margaret's 
 servant, said to her, " Here has come Michael 
 
26 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Snorro, and he would speak with thy hus- 
 band." Margaret rose, and went to him. He 
 stood before the glowing peats, on the kitchen 
 hearth, seeming, in the dim light, to tower to 
 the very roof. Margaret looked up with a feeling 
 akin to terror at the large white face in the 
 gloom above her, and asked faintly, "What 
 is't thou wants, Snorro ? " 
 
 " I would speak with Jan." 
 
 " He is not come yet to his home. At what 
 hour did he leave the store ? ' 
 
 At once Snorro's suspicions were aroused. 
 He stood silent a minute, then he said, " He 
 may have gone round by thy father's. I will 
 wait." 
 
 The man frightened her. She divined that 
 he distrusted and disapproved of her; and she 
 could ask nothing more. She left him with 
 Elga, but in half an hour she became too rest 
 less to bear the suspense, and returned to the 
 kitchen. Snorro gave her no opportunity to 
 question him. He said at once, " It is few 
 houses in Shetland a man can enter, and no one 
 say to him, ' Wilt thou eat or drink ? ' ' 
 
 " I forgot, Snorro. lam troubled about Jan. 
 What wilt thou have ? " - - 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 27 
 
 " What thou hast ready, and Elga will get it 
 for me." 
 
 A few minutes later he sat down to eat with 
 a calm deliberation which Margaret could not 
 endure. She put on her cloak and hood, and 
 calling Elga, said, " If he asks for me, say that 
 I spoke of my father's house." 
 
 Then she slipped out of the front door, and 
 went with fleet steps into the town. The 
 street, which was so narrow that it was possible 
 to shake hands across it, was dark and empty. 
 The shops were all shut, and the living rooms 
 looked mostly into the closes, or out to the 
 sea. Only here and there a lighted square of 
 glass made her shrink into the shadow of the 
 gables. But she made her way without hin- 
 drance to a house near the main quay. It was 
 well lighted, and there was the sound and stir 
 of music and singing, of noisy conversation and 
 laughter within it. 
 
 Indeed, it was Ragon Torr's inn. The front 
 windows were uncurtained, and she saw, as she 
 hurriedly passed them, that the main room was 
 full of company ; but she did not pause until 
 within the close at the side of the house, when, 
 .standing jn tfre shadow of the outbuilt chimney. 
 
28 JAN VEDDER'S WIF*. 
 
 she peered cautiously through the few small 
 squares on that side. It was as she suspected. 
 Jan sat in the very center of the company, his 
 handsome face all aglow with smiles, his hands 
 busily tuning the violin he held. Torr and half 
 a dozen sailors bent toward him with admiring 
 looks, and Ragon's wife Barbara, going to and 
 fro in her household duties, stopped to say 
 something to him, at which every body laughed, 
 but Jan's face darkened. 
 
 Margaret did not hear her name, but she felt 
 sure the remark had been about herself, and her 
 heart burned with anger. She was turning 
 away, when there was a cry of pleasure, and 
 Suneva Torr entered. Margaret had always 
 disliked Suneva ; she felt now that she hated 
 and feared her. Her luring eyes were dancing 
 with pleasure, her yellow hair fell in long, loose 
 waves around her, and she went to Jan's side, 
 put her hand on his shoulder, and said some- 
 thing to him. 
 
 Jan looked back, and up to her, and nodded 
 brightly to her request. Then out sprang the 
 tingling notes from the strings, and clear, and 
 shrill, and musical, Suneva's voice picked them 
 up with charming distinctness : 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 29 
 
 " Well, then, since we are welcome to Yool, 
 Up with it, Lightfoot, link it awa', boys ; 
 
 Send for a fiddler, play up the Foula reel, 
 And we'll skip it as light as a maw, boys." 
 Then she glanced at the men, and her father 
 
 and mother, and far in the still night rang out 
 
 the stirring chorus : 
 
 " The Shaalds of Foula will pay for it a'! 
 Up with it, Lightfoot, and link it awa'." 
 
 Then the merry riot ceased, and Suneva's 
 voice again took up the song 
 
 " Now for a light and a pot of good beer, 
 
 Up with it, Lightfoot, and link it awa', boys ! 
 
 We'll drink a good fishing against the New Year, 
 And the Shaalds of Foula will pay for it a', boys. 
 
 CHORUS: 
 
 " The Shaalds of Foula will pay for it a'; 
 
 Up with it, Lightfoot, and link it awa'. " 
 
 Margaret could bear it no longer, and, white 
 and stern, she turned away from the window. 
 Then she saw Michael Snorro standing beside 
 her. Even in the darkness she knew that his 
 eyes were scintillating with anger. He took 
 her by the arm and led her to the end of the 
 close. Then he said 
 
30 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " Much of a woman art thou ! If I was Jan 
 Vedder, never again would I see thy face ! No, 
 never ! " 
 
 " Jan lied to me ! To me, his wife ! Did thou 
 think he was at my father's? He is in Ragon 
 Torr's." 
 
 "Thou lied to me also; and if Jan is in 
 Ragou Torr's, let me tell thee, that thou sent 
 him there." 
 
 " I lied not to thee. I lie to no one." 
 
 " Yea, but thou told Elga to lie for thee. A 
 jealous wife knows not what she doe r Did 
 thou go to thy father's house ? " 
 
 " Speak thou no more to me, Michael Snorro." 
 Then she sped up the street, holding her breast 
 tightly with both hands, as if to hold back the 
 sobs that were choking her, until she reached 
 her own room, and locked fast her door. She 
 sobbed -for hours with all the passionate aban- 
 don which is the readiest relief of great sorrows 
 that come in youth. In age we know better ; 
 we bow the head and submit. 
 
 When she had quite exhausted herself, she 
 began to long for some comforter, some one to 
 whom she could tell her trouble. But Margaret 
 had few acquaintances ; none, among the few, of 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 31 
 
 whom she could make a confidant. From her 
 father and mother, above all others, she would 
 keep this humiliation. God she had never 
 thought of as a friend. He was her Creator, 
 her Redeemer, also, if it were his good pleas- 
 ure to save her from eternal death. He was 
 the Governor of the Universe ; but she knew 
 him not as a Father pitying his children, as a 
 God tender to a broken heart. Was it possible 
 that a woman's sharp cry of wounded love 
 could touch the Eternal ? She never dreamed 
 of such a thing. At length, weary 'with weep- 
 ing and with her own restlessness, she sat down 
 before the red peats upon the hearth, for once, 
 in her sorrowful preoccupation, forgetting her 
 knitting. 
 
 In the meantime, Snorro had entered Torr's, 
 and asked for Jan. He would take no excuse, 
 and no promises, and his white, stern face, and 
 silent way of sitting apart, with his head in his 
 hands, was soon felt to be a very uncomfortable 
 influence. Jan rose moodily, and went away 
 with him ; too cross, until they reached the 
 store, to ask, " Why did thou come and spoil 
 my pleasure, Snorro?" 
 
 " Neil Bork sails for Vool at the midnight 
 
32 ^AN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 tide. Thou told me thou must send a letter by 
 him to thy cousin Magnus/' 
 
 " That is so. Since Peter will do nothing, I 
 must seek help of Magnus. Well, then, I will 
 write the letter/' 
 
 When it was finished, Jan said, " Snorro, who 
 told thee I was at Torr's? " 
 
 " Thou wert not at home. I went there, first/' 
 
 " Then thou hast made trouble for me, be 
 sure of that. My wife thought that thou wast 
 ill." 
 
 " It is a bad wife a man must lie to. But, oh, 
 Jan ! Jan ! To think that for any woman thou 
 would tell the lie ! " 
 
 Then Jan, being in that garrulous mood which 
 often precedes intoxication, would have opened 
 his whole heart to Michael about his domestic 
 troubles ; but Michael would not listen to 
 him. " Shut thy mouth tight on that sub- 
 ject," he said angrily. " I will hear neither 
 good nor bad of Margaret Vedder. Now, then, 
 I will walk home with thee, and then I will see 
 Neil Bork, and give him thy letter." 
 
 Margaret heard their steps at the gate. Her 
 face grew white and cold as ice, and her heart 
 hardened at the sound of Snorro's voice. She 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 33 
 
 had always despised him ; now, for his inter- 
 ference with her, she hated him. She could not 
 tolerate Jan's attachment to a creature so rude 
 and simple. It was almost an insult to herself ; 
 and yet so truthfully did she judge his heart, 
 that she was quite certain Michael Snorro would 
 never tell Jan that she had watched him 
 through Ragon Torr's window. She blushed a 
 moment at the memory of so mean an action, 
 but instantly and angrily defended it to her own 
 heart. 
 
 Jan came in, with the foolish, good-natured 
 smile of alcoholic excitement. But when he 
 saw Margaret's white, hard face, he instantly 
 became sulky and silent. "Where hast thou 
 been, Jan ? " she asked. " It is near the mid- 
 night." 
 
 " I have been about my own business. I had 
 some words to send by Neil Bork to my cousin 
 Magnus. Neil sails by the midnight tide/' 
 
 She laughed scornfully. " Thy cousin Mag- 
 nus ! Pray, what shall he do for thee ? This is 
 some new cousin, surely ! " 
 
 " Well, then, since thy father keeps thy tocher 
 from me, I must borrow of my own kin." 
 
 " As for that, my father hath been better to 
 
34 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 thee than thou deservest. Why didst thou lie 
 lx> me concerning Snorro ? He has had no 
 fever. No, indeed ! " 
 
 " A man must ask his wife whether he can 
 speak truth to her, or not. Thou can not bear 
 it. Very well, then, I must lie to thee.". 
 
 " Yet, be sure, I will tell the truth to thee, 
 Jan Vedder. Thou hast been at Ragon Torr's, 
 singing with i light woman, and drinking 
 with " 
 
 " With my own kin. I advise thee to say 
 nothing against them. As for Suneva, there is 
 no tongue in Lerwick but thine will speak evil 
 of her she is a good girl, and she hath a kind 
 heart. And now, then, who told thee I was at 
 Torr's?" 
 
 He asked the question repeatedly, and 
 instead of answering it, Margaret began to 
 justify herself. " Have I not been to thee a 
 good wife? Has not thy house been kept 
 well, and thy meals ever good and ready for 
 thee ? Has any thing, great or little, gone to 
 waste?" 
 
 "Thou hast been too good. It had been 
 better if thou had been less perfect ; then I 
 could have spoken to thee of my great wish, 
 
A LITTLE CLOUD IN THE SKY. 35 
 
 and thou would have said, as others say, ; Jan, 
 it would be a joy to see thee at the mainmast, or 
 casting the ling-lines, or running into harbor 
 before the storm, with every sail set, as though 
 thou had stolen ship and lading/ Thou would 
 not want me to chaffer with old women about 
 geese-feathers and bird-eggs. Speak no more. 
 I am heavy with sleep." 
 
 And he could sleep ! That was such an 
 aggravation of his offense. She turned some- 
 times and looked at his handsome flushed face, 
 but otherwise she sat hour after hour silent 
 and almost motionless, her hands clasped upon 
 her knee, her heart anticipative of wrong, and 
 with a perverse industry considering sorrows 
 that had not as yet even called to her. Alas ! 
 alas! the unhappy can never persuade them- 
 selves that " sufficient unto the day is the evil 
 thereof." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 JAN'S -OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 " Thou broad-billowed sea, 
 
 Never sundered from thee, 
 May I wander the welkin below ; 
 
 May the plash and the roar 
 
 Of the waves on the shore 
 Beat the march to my feet as I go ; 
 
 Ever strong, ever free, 
 
 When the breath of the sea, 
 Like the fan of an angel, I know ; 
 
 Ever rising with power, 
 
 To the call of the hour, 
 Like the swell of the tides as they flow." 
 
 BLACKIE. 
 
 THE gravitation of character is naturally 
 toward its weakest point. Margaret's 
 weakest point was an intense, though uncon- 
 scious, selfishness. Jan's restless craving for 
 change and excitement made him dissatisfied 
 with the daily routine of life, lazy, and often 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 37 
 
 unreasonable. His very blessings became 
 offenses to him. His clean, well-ordered 
 house, made him fly to the noisy freedom of 
 Ragon Torr's kitchen. Margaret's never-ceas- 
 ing industry, her calmness, neatness and delib- 
 eration, exasperated him as a red cloth does a 
 bull. 
 
 Suneva Torr had married Paul Glumm. and 
 Jan often watched her as he sat drinking his 
 ale in Torr's kitchen. At home, it is true, she 
 tormented Glumm with her contrary, provok- 
 ing moods ; but then, again, she met him with 
 smiles and endearments that atoned for every 
 thing. Jan thought it would be a great relief 
 if Margaret were only angry sometimes. For 
 he wearied of her constant serenity, as people 
 weary of sunshine without cloud or shadow. 
 
 And Margaret suffered. No one could doubt 
 that who watched her face from day to day. 
 She made no complaint, not even to her 
 mother. Thora, however, perceived it all. 
 She had foreseen and foretold the trouble, but 
 she was too noble a woman to point out the 
 fulfillment of her prophecy. As she went 
 about her daily work, she considered, and not 
 unkindly, the best means for bringing Jan 
 
38 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 back to his wife and home, and his first pride 
 in them. 
 
 She believed that the sea only could do it. 
 After all, her heart was with the men who 
 loved it. She felt that Jan was as much out 
 of place counting eggs, as a red stag would be 
 if harnessed to a plow. She, at least, under- 
 stood the rebellious, unhappy look on his 
 handsome face. When the ling fishing was 
 near at hand, she said to Peter : " There is one 
 thing that is thy duty, and that is to give Jan 
 the charge of a boat. He is for the sea, and 
 it is not well that so good a sailor should go 
 out of the family." 
 
 " I have no mind to do that. Jan will do 
 well one day, and he will do as ill as can be 
 the next. I will not trust a boat with him.'* 
 
 " It seems to me that where thou could trust 
 Margaret, thou might well trust nineteen feet 
 ot keel, and fifty fathom of long lines." 
 
 Peter answered her not, and Thora kept 
 silence also. But at the end, when he had 
 smoked his pipe, and was lifting the Bible for 
 the evening exercise, he said : " Thou shalt 
 have thy way, wife ; Jan shall have a boat, but 
 thou wilt see evil will come of it." 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 39 
 
 " Thou wert always good, Peter, and in this 
 thing I am thinking of more than fish. There 
 is sorrow in Margaret's house. A mother can 
 feel that." 
 
 " Now, then, meddle thou not in the matter. 
 Every man loves in his own way. Whatever 
 there is between Jan and Margaret is a thing 
 by itself. But I will speak about the boat in 
 the morning." 
 
 Peter kept his word, and kept it without 
 smallness or grudging. He still liked Jan. If 
 there were trouble between him and Margaret 
 he regarded it as the natural initiation to 
 married life. Norse women were all high- 
 spirited and wished to rule ; and he would have 
 despised Jan if he had suspected him of giving 
 way to Margaret's stubborn self-will. Though 
 she was his own daughter, he did nat wish to 
 see her setting an example of wifely suprem- 
 acy. 
 
 So he called Jan pleasantly and said, " I 
 have saved for thee ' The Fair Margaret/ 
 Wilt thou sail her this season, Jan ? She is 
 the best boat I have, as thou well knows. 
 .Fourteen hundred hooks she is to carry, and 
 thou can hire six men to go with thee." 
 
40 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 It made Peter's eyes feel misty to see the 
 instantaneous change in Jan's face. He could 
 not speak his thanks, but he looked them ; and 
 Peter felt troubled, and said, almost querulously, 
 " There, that will do, son Jan ; go now, and 
 hire the men thou wants." 
 
 " First of all, I should like Snorro." 
 
 Peter hesitated, but he would not tithe his 
 kindness, and he frankly answered, "Well, then, 
 thou shalt have Snorro though it will go hard 
 with me, wanting him." 
 
 " But we will make it go well with thee on 
 the sea, father." 
 
 " As for that, it will be as God pleases. A 
 man's duty is all my claim on thee. Margaret 
 will be glad to see thee so happy." He 
 dropped his eyes as he spoke of Margaret. 
 He would not seem to watch Jan, although he 
 was conscious of doing so. 
 
 " A woman has many minds, father. Who 
 knows if a thing will make her happy or 
 angry ? " 
 
 " That is a foolish saying, Jan. A wife must 
 find her pleasure in the thing that pleases her 
 husband. But now thou wilt have but little 
 time ; the boat is to be tried, and the hooks 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 41 
 
 and lines are to go over, and the crew to hire. 
 I have left all to thee." 
 
 This pleased Jan most of all. Only a bird 
 building its first nest could have been as happy 
 as he was. When at night he opened the door 
 of his house, and went in with a gay smile, it 
 was like a resurrection. The pale rose-color on 
 Margaret's cheek grew vivid and deep when he 
 took her in his arms, and kissed her in the old 
 happy way. She smiled involuntarily, and 
 Jan thought, " How beautiful she is ! " He 
 told her all Peter had said and done. He was 
 full of gratitude and enthusiasm. He did not 
 notice for a few moments that Margaret was 
 silent, and chillingly unresponsive. He was 
 amazed to find that the whole affair displeased 
 her. 
 
 " So, then, I have married a common fisher- 
 man after all," she said bitterly ; " why, Suneva 
 Torr's husband has a bigger boat than thine." 
 
 It was an unfortunate remark, and touched 
 Jan on a very raw place. He could not refrain 
 from answering, " He hath had better luck 
 than I. Ragon Torr gave Glumm Suneva's 
 tocher, and he has bought his own boat with 
 it." 
 
42 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " Why not ? Every one knows that Glumm 
 is a prudent man. He never gets on his feet 
 for nothing f 
 
 Jan was inexpressibly pained and disap- 
 pointed. For a moment a feeling of utter 
 despair came over him. The boat lay upon 
 his heart like a wreck. He drank his tea 
 gloomily, and the delicately-browned fish, the 
 young mutton, and the hot wheat cakes, all 
 tasted like ashes in his mouth. Perhaps, then, 
 Margaret's heart smote her, for she began to 
 talk, and to press upon Jan's acceptance the 
 viands which had somehow lost all their savor 
 to him. Her conversation was in like case. 
 She would not speak of the boat, since they 
 could not agree about it ; and no other subject 
 interested Jan. But, like all perfectly selfish 
 people, she imagined, as a matter of course, 
 that whatever interested her was the supreme 
 interest. In her calm, even voice, she spoke of 
 the spring house-cleaning, and the growth of 
 her pansies and tulip-bulbs, and did not know 
 that all the time Jan was thinking of his boat, 
 heaving on the tide-top, or coming into harbor 
 so heavy with fish that she would be in -Shet- 
 land phrase lippering with the water. 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 43 
 
 But, after all, the week of preparation was a 
 very happy week to Jan and Snorro ; and on 
 the sixteenth of May they were the foremost 
 of the sixty boats that sailed out of Lerwick 
 for the ling ground. There was a great crowd 
 on the pier to see them off mothers, and wives, 
 and sweethearts ; boys, sick and sad with long-, 
 ing and envy; and old men, with the glamor 
 of their own past in their faces. Among them 
 was Suneva, in a bright blue dress, with blue 
 ribbons fluttering in her yellow hair. She stood 
 at the pier-head and as they passed poured a 
 cup of ale into the sea, to forespeak good luck 
 for the fleet. Jan would have dearly liked to 
 see his wife's handsome face watching him, as 
 he stood by the main-mast and lifted his cap 
 to Peter. Margaret was not there. 
 
 She really felt very much humiliated in Jan's 
 position. She had always held herself a little 
 apart from the Lerwick women. She had been 
 to Edinburgh, she had been educated far above 
 them, and she was quite aware that she would 
 have a very large fortune. Her hope had been 
 to see Jan take his place among the merchants 
 and bailies of Lerwick. She had dreams of the 
 fine mansion that they would build, and of the 
 
44 fAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 fine furniture which would come from Edin- 
 burgh for it. Margaret was one of those women 
 to whom a house can become a kingdom, and 
 its careful ordering an affair of more importance 
 than the administration of a great nation. 
 When she chose Jan, and raised him from his 
 humble position, she had no idea that he would 
 drift back again to the fishing nets. 
 
 For the first time she carried her complaint 
 home. But Thora in this matter had not 
 much sympathy with her. "The sea is his 
 mother," she said; " he loved her before he loved 
 thee ; when she calls him, he will always go back 
 to her." 
 
 " No man in Shetland hath a better business 
 to his hand ; and how can he like to live in a 
 boat, he, that hath a home so quiet, and clean, 
 and comfortable ? " 
 
 Thora sighed. " Thou wilt not understand 
 then, that what the cradle rocks the spade buries. 
 The sea spoke to Jan before he lay on his 
 mother's breast. His father hath a grave in it. 
 Neither gold nor the love of woman will ever 
 keep them far apart ; make up thy mind to 
 that." 
 
 All this might be true, but yet it humiliated 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 45 
 
 Margaret. Besides, she imagined that every 
 wife in Lerwick was saying, " Not much hold 
 has Margaret Vedder on her husband. He is 
 off to sea again, and that with the first boat 
 that sails." Yet if success could have reconciled 
 her, Jan's was wonderful. Not unfrequently 
 " The Fair Margaret " took twenty score ling at 
 a haul, and every one was talking of her good 
 luck. 
 
 During these days Jan and Snorro drew very 
 close to each other. When the baits were set 
 most of the men went to sleep for three hours ; 
 but Snorro always watched, and very often 
 Jan sat with him. And oh, the grand solemnity 
 and serenity of these summer nights, when 
 through belts of calm the boats drifted and the 
 islands in a charmed circle filled the pale purple 
 horizon before them. Most fair then was the 
 treeless land, and very far off seemed the sin 
 and sorrow of life. The men lay upon the 
 deck, with a pile of nets or their folded arms 
 for a pillow, and surely under such a sky, like 
 Jacob of old, they dreamed of angels. 
 
 Snorro and Jan, sitting in the soft, mystical 
 light, talked together, dropping their voices 
 involuntarily; and speaking slowly, with thought- 
 
46 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 ful pauses between the sentences. When they 
 were not talking, Snorro read, and the book 
 was ever the same, the book of the Four Gos- 
 pels. Jan often watched him when he thought 
 Jan asleep. In that enchanted midnight glow, 
 which was often a blending of four lights 
 moonlight and twilight, the aurora and the 
 dawning the gigantic figure and white face, 
 bending over the little book, had a weird and 
 almost supernatural interest. Then this man, 
 poor, ugly, and despised, had an incomparable 
 nobility, and he fascinated Jan. 
 
 One night he said to him, " Art thou never 
 weary of reading that same book, Snorro ? " 
 
 " Am I then ever weary of thee, my Jan ? 
 And these are the words of One who was the 
 first who loved me. Accordingly, how well I 
 know his voice." Then, in a fervor of adoring 
 affection, he talked to Jan of his dear Lord 
 Christ, " who had stretched out his arms upon 
 the cross that he might embrace the world." 
 And as he talked the men, one by one, raised 
 themselves on their elbows and listened ; and 
 the theme transfigured Snorro, and he stood 
 erect with uplifted face, and looked, in spite of 
 his fisher's suit, so royal that Jan felt humbled 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 47 
 
 in his presence. And when he had tpld, in his 
 own simple, grand way, the story of hifi who 
 had often toiled at midnight with the fishers 
 on the Galilean sea, as they toiled upon t3r* 
 Shetland waters, there was a great silence^ 
 until Jan said, in a voice that seemed almost 
 strange to them : " Well, then, mates, now we 
 will look to the lines." 
 
 All summer, and until the middle of October, 
 Jan continued at sea ; and all summer, whether 
 fishing for ling, cod, or herring, " The Fail Mar- 
 garet " had exceptionally good fortune. There 
 were many other fishers who woke, and watched, 
 and toiled in their fishing, who did not have 
 half her " takes." " It is all Jan's luck," said 
 Glumm, " for it is well known that he flings 
 his nets and goes to sleep while they fill." 
 
 " Well, then, ' it is the net of the sleeping 
 fisherman takes : ' that is the wise saying of 
 old times " and though Snorro did not think 
 of it, the Shetland proverb was but the Norse 
 form of the Hebrew faith : " He giveth his 
 beloved in their sleep." 
 
 Still, in spite of his success, Jan was not 
 happy. A married man's happiness is in the 
 hands of his wife, and Margaret felt too injured 
 
48 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 to be generous. She was not happy, and she 
 thought it only just that Jan should be made 
 to feel it. He had disappointed all her hopes 
 and aspirations ; she was not magnanimous 
 enough to rejoice in the success of his labors 
 and aims. Besides, his situation as the hired 
 skipper of a boat was contemptible in her eyes : 
 her servant was engaged to a man in the same 
 position. Another aggravating circumstance 
 was that her old schoolmate, the minister's 
 
 niece (a girl who had not a penny piece to her 
 
 f 
 
 fortune) was going to marry a rich merchant 
 from Kirkwall. How she would exult over 
 " Margeret Vedder who had married a common 
 fisherman/' The exultation was entirely imagi 
 nary, but perhaps it hurt as much as if it had 
 been actually made. 
 
 Success, too, had made Jan more independent : 
 or perhaps he had grown indifferent to Mar- 
 garet's anger, since he found it impossible to 
 please her. At any rate, he asked his friends 
 to his house without fear or apology. They left 
 their footmarks on her floors, and their finger- 
 marks upon her walls and cushions, and Jan only 
 laughed and said, " There was, as every one 
 knew, plenty of water in Shetland to make 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 49 
 
 them clean again." Numberless other little 
 things grieved and offended her, so little that, 
 taken separately, they might have raised a 
 smile, but in the aggregate they attained the 
 magnitude of real wrongs. 
 
 But, happy or miserable, time goes on, and 
 About the middle of October even the herring 
 fishing is over. Peter was beginning to count 
 up his expenses and his gains. Jan and Snorro 
 were saying to one another, " In two days we 
 must go back to the store." That is, they 
 were trying to say it, but the air was so full of 
 shrieks that no human voice could be heard. 
 For all around the boat the sea was boiling 
 with herring fry, and over them hung tens of 
 thousands of gulls and terns. Marmots and 
 guillemots were packed in great black masses 
 on the white foam, and only a mad human mob 
 of screaming women and children could have 
 made a noise comparable. Even that would 
 have wanted the piercing metallic ring of the 
 wild birds' shriek. 
 
 Suddenly Snorro leaped to his feet. " I see a 
 storm, Jan. Lower and lash down the mast. 
 We shall have bare time." 
 
 Jan saw that the birds had risen and were 
 
50 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 making for the rocks. In a few minutes down 
 came the wind from the north-east, and a streak 
 of white rain flying across the black sea was on 
 top of " The Fair Margaret " before the mast was 
 well secured. As for the nets, Snorro was cut- 
 ing them loose, and in a few moments the 
 boat was tearing down before the wind. It 
 was a wild squall ; some of the fishing fleet 
 went to the bottom with all their crews. " The 
 Fair Margaret/' at much risk of loss, saved 
 Glumm's crew, and then had all she could man- 
 age to raise her mizzen, and with small canvas 
 edge away to windward for the entrance of 
 Lerwick bay. 
 
 Jan was greatly distressed. " Hard to beaf 
 is this thing, Snorro," he said; "at the last to 
 have such bad fortune." 
 
 " It is a better ending than might have been. 
 Think only of that, Jan." 
 
 " But Peter will count his lost nets ; there is 
 nothing else he will think of." 
 
 " Between nets and men's lives, there is only 
 one choice." 
 
 Peter said that also, but he was nevertheless 
 very angry. The loss took possession of his 
 mind, and excluded all memory of his gains. 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 51 
 
 X 
 
 " It was just like Jan and Snorro," he muttered, 
 " to be troubling themselves with other boats. 
 In a sudden storm, a boat's crew should mind 
 only its own safety/' These thoughts were in 
 his heart, though he did not dare to form them 
 into any clear shape. But just as a drop or 
 two of ink will diffuse itself through a glass of 
 pure water and defile the whole, so they pois- 
 oned every feeling of kindness which he had to 
 Jan. 
 
 "What did I tellthee?" he said to Thora, 
 bitterly. " Jan does nothing well but he spoils 
 it. Here, at the end of the season, for a little 
 gust of wind, he loses both nets and tackle." 
 
 " He did well when he saved life, Peter." 
 
 " Every man should mind his own affairs. 
 Glumm would have done that thing first/' 
 
 " Then Glumm would have been little of a 
 man. And thou, Peter Fae, would have been 
 the first to tell Glumm so. Thou art saying 
 evil, and dost not mean it." 
 
 " Speak no more. It is little a woman under- 
 stands. Her words are always like a contrary 
 wind." 
 
 Peter was very sulky for some days, and when 
 at last he was ready to settle with Jan, there 
 
52 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 was a decided quarrel. Jan believed himself to 
 be unfairly dealt with, and bitter words were 
 spoken on both sides. In reality, Peter knew 
 that he had been hard with his son, harder by 
 far than he had ever intended to be ; but in his 
 heart there had sprung up one of those sudden 
 and unreasonable dislikes which we have all 
 experienced, and for which no explanation is 
 possible. It was not altogether the loss of the 
 nets he did not know what it was but the 
 man he liked, and praised, and was proud of 
 one week, he could hardly endure to see or 
 speak to the next. 
 
 " That ends all between thee and me," said 
 Peter, pushing a little pile of gold toward Jan. 
 It was a third less than Jan expected. He gave 
 it to Margaret, and bade her " use it carefully, 
 as he might be able to make little more until 
 the next fishing season." 
 
 " But thou wilt work in the store this win- 
 ter?" 
 
 " That I will not. I will work for no man 
 who cheats me of a third of my hire." 
 
 " It is of my father thou art speaking, Jan 
 Vedder ; remember that. And Peter Fae's 
 daughter is thy wife, theugh little thou deserv- 
 est her." 
 
JAN'S OPPORTUNITY. 53 
 
 " It is like enough that I am unworthy of 
 thee ; but if I had chosen a wife less excellent 
 than thou it had perhaps been better for me." 
 
 "And for me also." 
 
 That was the beginning of a sad end ; for 
 Jan, though right enough at first, soon put him- 
 self in the wrong, as a man who is idle, and has 
 a grievance, is almost sure to do. He continu- 
 ally talked about it. On the contrary, Peter 
 held his tongue, and in any quarrel the man wlvr> 
 can be silent in the end has the popular sympa- 
 thy. Then, in some way or other, Peter Fae 
 touched nearly every body in Lerwick. He 
 jave them work, or he bought their produce. 
 They owed him money, or they expected a 
 avor from him. However much they sympa- 
 hized with Jan, they could not afford to quar- 
 rel with Peter. 
 
 Only Michael Snorro was absolutely and 
 purely true to him ; but oh, what truth there 
 was in Michael ! Jan's wrongs were his 
 wrongs ; Jan's anger was but the reflection of 
 his own. 
 
 He watched over him, he sympathized with 
 him, he loved him entirely, with a love " won- 
 derful, passing the love of woman " 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DESOLATED HOME. 
 
 * For we two, face to face, 
 God knows are further parted 
 Than were a whole world's space 
 Between . " 
 
 " Lost utterly from home and me, 
 Lonely, regretful and remote." 
 
 JAN now began to hang all day about Ragon 
 Torr's, and to make friends with men as pur- 
 poseless as himself. He drank more and more, 
 and was the leader in all the dances and merry- 
 makings with which Shetlanders beguile their 
 long winter. He was very soon deep in Torr's 
 debt, and this circumstance carried him the 
 next step forward on an evil road. 
 
 One night Torr introduced him to Hoi Ska- 
 ger, a Dutch skipper, whose real cargo was a 
 contraband one of tea, brandy, tobacco and 
 French goods. Jan was in the very mood to 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME. 55 
 
 join him, and Skagei was glad enough of Jan. 
 Very soon he began to be away from home for 
 three and four weeks at a time. Peter and 
 Margaret knew well the objects of these 
 absences, but they would have made themselves 
 very unpopular if they had spoken of them. 
 Smuggling was a thing every one had a hand 
 in ; rich and poor alike had their venture, and 
 a wise ignorance, and deaf and dumb ignoring of 
 the fact, was a social tenet universally observed. 
 If Jan came home and brought his wife a piece 
 of rich silk or lace, or a gold trinket, she took 
 it without any unpleasant curiosity. If Peter 
 were offered a cask of French brandy at a 
 nominal price, he never asked any embarrassing 
 questions. Consciences tender enough toward 
 the claims of God, evaded without a scruple the 
 rendering of Caesar's dues. 
 
 So when Jan disappeared for a few weeks, 
 and then returned with money in his pocket, 
 and presents for his friends, he was welcomed 
 without question. And he liked the life ; liked 
 it so well that when the next fishing season 
 came round he refused every offer made him. 
 He gained more with Hoi Skager, and the ex- 
 citement of eluding the coast guard or of giv- 
 
56 fAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 ing them a good chase, suited Jan exactly. The 
 spirit of his forefathers ruled him absolutely, 
 and he would have fought for his cargo or gone 
 down with the ship. 
 
 Snorro was very proud of him. The morality 
 of Jan's employment he never questioned, and 
 Jan's happy face and fine clothing gave him 
 the greatest pleasure. He was glad that he 
 had escaped Peter's control ; and when Jan, 
 now and then, went to the store after it was 
 shut, and sat an hour with him, no man in Shet- 
 land was as proud and happy as Michael 
 Snorro. Very often Jan brought him a book, 
 and on one occasion it was the wondrous old 
 " Pilgrim's Progress," full of wood-cuts. That 
 book was a lifelong joy to Snorro, and he 
 gave to Jan all the thanks and the credit of it. 
 "Jan brought him every thing pleasant he had. 
 He was so handsome, and so clever, and so 
 good, and yet he loved him the poor, ignorant 
 Snorro ! " So Snorro reasoned, and accord- 
 ingly he loved his friend with all his soul. 
 
 At Jan's house many changes were taking 
 place. In the main, Margaret had her house 
 very much to herself. No one soiled its ex- 
 quisite cleanliness. The expense of keeping 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME. 57 
 
 it was small. She was saving money on every 
 hand. When Jan came home with a rich pres- 
 ent in his hand, it was easy to love so hand- 
 some and generous a man, and if Jan permitted 
 her to love him in her own way, she was very 
 glad to do so. The tie between man and wife 
 is one hard to break. What tugs it will 
 bear for years, we have all seen and won- 
 dered at ; and during this interval if there were 
 days when they were wretched, there were many 
 others when they were very happy together. 
 The conditions rested mainly with Margaret. 
 When she could forget all her small ambi- 
 tions and disappointments, and give to her 
 husband the smile and kiss he still valued 
 above every thing, then Jan was proud and 
 happy and anxious to please her. But Mar- 
 garet was moody as the skies above her, and 
 sometimes Jan's sunniest tempers were in 
 themselves an offense. It is ill indeed with 
 the man who is bound to misery by the cords 
 of a woman's peevish and unreasonable 
 temper. 
 
 For a year and a half Jan remained with Hoi 
 Skager, but during this time his whole nature 
 deteriorated. Among the Shetland fishermen 
 
58 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 mutual forbearance and mutual reliance was 
 the rule. In position the men were nearly 
 equal, and there was no opportunity for an 
 overbearing spirit to exercise itself. But it was 
 very different with Skager's men. They were 
 of various nationalities, and of reckless and 
 unruly tempers. The strictest discipline was 
 necessary, and Jan easily learned to be tyrannical 
 and unjust, to use passionate and profane lan- 
 guage, to drink deep, and to forget the Sabbath, 
 a day which had been so sacred to him. 
 
 In his own home the change was equally 
 apparent. Margaret began to tremble before 
 the passions she evoked ; and Jan to mock at 
 the niceties that had hitherto snubbed and 
 irritated him. Once he had been so easy to 
 please ; now all her small conciliations some, 
 times failed. The day had gone by for them. 
 The more she humbled herself, the less Jan 
 aeemed to care for her complaisance. To be 
 kind too late, to be kind when the time for 
 kindness is passed by, that is often the greatest 
 injury of all. 
 
 At the end of eighteen months Jan and 
 Skager quarreled. Skager had become intimate 
 with Peter Fae, and Peter was doubtless to 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME, 59 
 
 blame. At any rate, Jan was sure he was, and 
 he spent his days in morose complaining, and 
 futile threats of vengeance futile, because the 
 poor man's wrath always falls upon himself. 
 When Peter heard them he could afford to say 
 contemptuously " It is well known that Jan 
 Vedder has a long tongue and short hands ; " 
 or, " Between saying and doing the thing is a 
 great way." 
 
 In a few weeks even Ragon Torr got weary 
 of Jan's ill-temper and heroics. Besides, h*- 
 was in his debt, and there seemed no prospect 
 of speedy work for him. Upon the whole, it 
 was a miserable winter for the Vedders. Jan 
 made very little. Sometimes he killed a seal, 
 or brought in a bag of birds, but his earnings 
 were precarious, and Margaret took care that 
 his table should be in accordance. She had 
 money, of course, but it was her own money, 
 and a thing with which Jan had no right. She 
 ate her meager fare of salt fish and barley bread 
 with a face of perfect resignation ; she gave up 
 her servant and made no complaints, and she 
 did think it a most shameful injustice that, 
 after all, Jan should be cross with her. It did 
 not strike her, that a good meal, even thougl 
 
60 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 she had procured it from her own private hoard, 
 might have been a better thing than the most 
 saintly patience. There is much said about 
 the wickedness of doing evil that good may 
 come. Alas! there is such a thing as doing 
 good that evil may come. 
 
 One afternoon in early spring Jan saw a flock 
 of wild swans soaring majestically on their 
 strong wings toward a lake which was a favorite 
 resting place with them. He took his gun and 
 followed after. They were gathered in the 
 very middle of the lake ; his dog could not 
 swim so far, neither could his shot reach them. 
 It seemed as if every promise mocked him. 
 Sulky and disappointed, he was returning home 
 when he met the Udaller Tulloch. He was 
 jogging along on his little rough pony, his 
 feet raking the ground, and his prehistoric hat 
 tied firmly on the back of his head. 
 
 But in spite of his primitive appearance he 
 was a man of wealth and influence, the banker 
 of the island, liked and trusted of all men ex- 
 cept Peter Fae. With Peter he had come often 
 in conflict ; he had superseded him in a civil 
 office, he had spoken slightingly of some of 
 Peter's speculations, and, above all offenses, in 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME. 61 
 
 a recent kirk election he had been chosen 
 Deacon instead of Peter. They were the two 
 rich men of Lerwick, and they were jealous and 
 distrustful of each other. 
 
 "Jan Vedder, " said Tulloch, cheerily, "I 
 would speak with thee; come to my house 
 within an hour." 
 
 It was not so fine a house as Peter's, but Jan 
 liked its atmosphere. Small glass barrels of 
 brandy stood on the sideboard ; there was a 
 case of Hollands in the chimney corner ; fine 
 tobacco, bloaters, and sturgeons' roes were in 
 comfortable proximity. A bright fire of peats 
 glowed on the ample hearth, and the Udaller 
 sat eating and drinking before it. He made 
 Jan join him, and without delay entered upon 
 his business. 
 
 " I want to sell ' The Solan/ Jan. She is worth 
 a thousand pounds for a coaster; or, if thou 
 wishes, thou could spoil Skager's trips with her. 
 She is half as broad as she is long, with high 
 bilge, and a sharp bottom ; the very boat for 
 these seas wilt thou buy her?" 
 
 " If I had the money, nothing would be so 
 much to my liking." 
 
 " Well, then, thy wife brought me ^50 yes- 
 
62 JAN VEDDER' S WIFE. 
 
 terday ; that makes thy account a little over 
 600. I will give thee a clear bill of sale and 
 trust thee for the balance. ' Tis a great pity to 
 see a good lad like thee going to waste. It is 
 that." 
 
 " If I was in thy debt, then thou would own 
 a, part of me. I like well to be my own mas- 
 ter." 
 
 " A skipper at sea doth what he will ; and 
 every one knows that Jan Vedder is not one 
 that serves. Remember, thou wilt be skipper 
 of thy own boat ! " 
 
 Jan's eyes flashed joyfully, but he said, " My 
 wife may not like I should use the money for 
 this purpose." 
 
 " It is a new thing for a man to ask his wife 
 if he can spend this or that, thus or so. And 
 to what good? Margaret Vedder would speak 
 to her father, and thou knows if Peter Fae love 
 thee or not." 
 
 These words roused the worst part of Jan's 
 nature. He remembered, in a moment, all the 
 envy and wonder he would cause by sailing out 
 of harbor skipper of his own boat. It was the 
 very temptation that was irresistible to him. He 
 entered into Tulloch's plan with all his heart, 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME. 63 
 
 and before he left him he was in a mood to 
 justify any action which would further his desire. 
 " Only give not thy thoughts speech, Jan/' 
 said Tulloch at parting ; " and above all things, 
 trust not thy plans to a woman. When will 
 hou tell me ' yes ' or ' no ' ? " 
 "To-morrow." 
 
 But Jan was not the man to hold counsel 
 with his own soul. He wanted human advice 
 and sympathy, and he felt sure of Snorro. He 
 went straight to him, but the store was still 
 open, and Peter Fae was standing in the door, 
 three of his neighbors with him. He looked at 
 Jan scornfully and asked "Well, how many 
 swans did thou get ? " 
 
 4i I have been after a purchase, Peter Fae." 
 " Good. How wilt thou pay for it, then ? " 
 " I will take my own to pay for it." 
 Peter laughed, and turning away, answered, 
 -' Why, then, do I speak to thee ? Only God 
 understands fools." 
 
 This conversation irritated Jan far more 
 than many an actual wrong had done. " I have 
 indeed been a fool," he said to Snorro, "but 
 now I will look well to what concerns my own 
 interest." 
 
04 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Then he told Michael of Tulloch's offer, and 
 added, " At last, then, I have the sum of my 
 wife's savings, and I will show her she has been 
 swing for a good end. What dost thou think, 
 S^orro ? " 
 
 -' I think the money is thine. All thine has 
 b^en hers, or she had not saved so much ; all 
 hers ought then to be thine. But it is well and 
 right to tell her of Tulloch's offer to thee. She 
 may like to give thee as a gift what else thou 
 must take without any pleasure." 
 
 Jan laughed ; it was an unpleasant laugh, 
 and did not at all brighten his face, but he 
 resolved to a certain extent on taking Snorro's 
 advice. It was quite midnight when he reached 
 his home, but Margaret was sitting by a few 
 red peats knitting. She was weeping, also, and 
 her tears annoyed him. 
 
 " Thou art ever crying like a cross child," he 
 said. " Now what art thou crying for ? " 
 
 " For thy love, my husband. If thou would 
 care a little for me ! " 
 
 " That is also what I say. If thou would 
 care a little for me and for my well-doing ! Lis- 
 ten, now ! I have heard where I can buy a 
 good boat for 600. Wilt thou ask thy father 
 
THE DESOLATED HOME. 65 
 
 for so much of thy tocher? To have this boat, 
 Margaret, would make me the happiest man in 
 Shetland. I know that thou can manage it if 
 thou wilt. Dear wife, do this thing for me. I 
 ask thee with all my heart. " And he bent 
 toward her, took the knitting away, and held 
 her hands in his own. 
 
 Margaret dropped her eyes, and Jan watched 
 her with a painful interest. Did she love him 
 or her 600 better? Her face paled and flushed. 
 She looked up quickly, and her lips parted. 
 Jan believed that she was going to say " 1 
 have 600, and I will gladly give it to thee." 
 He was ready to fold her to his breast, to love 
 her, as he had loved her that day when he had 
 first called her "wife." Alas ! after a slight hes- 
 itation, she dropped her pale face and answered 
 slowly " I will not ask my father. I might as 
 well ask the sea for fresh water." 
 
 Jan let her hands fall, and stood up. " I see 
 now that all talk with thee will come to little. 
 What thou wants, is that men should give thee 
 all, and thou give nothing. When thou sayest, 
 'thy love, husband/ thou means ' thy money, 
 husband ;' and if there is no money, then there 
 is ever sighs and tears. Many things thou hast 
 
66 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 yet to learn of a wife's duty, and very soon I 
 will give thee a lesson I had done well to teach 
 thee long since." 
 
 " I have borne much from thee, Jan, but at 
 the next wrong thou does me, I will go back to 
 my father. That is what I shall do." 
 
 " We will see to that." 
 
 " Yes, we will see ! " And she rose proudly, 
 and with flashing eyes gathered up her knitting 
 and her wool and left the room. 
 
 The next morning Jan andTulloch concluded 
 their bargain. " The Solan " was put in thorough 
 order, and loaded with a coasting cargo. It 
 was supposed that Tulloch's nephew would sail 
 her, and Jan judged it wisest to show no inter- 
 est in the matter. But an hour after all was 
 ready, he drew the 600 out of Tulloch's bank, 
 paid it down for the boat, and sailed her out of 
 Lerwick harbor at the noon-tide. In ten min- 
 utes afterward a score of men had called in 
 Peter Fae's store and told him. 
 
 He was both puzzled and annoyed. Why 
 had Tulloch interfered with Jan unless it was 
 for his, Peter's, injury? From the secrecy 
 maintained, he suspected some scheme against 
 his interests. Snorro, on being questioned, 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME. 67 
 
 could truthfully say that Jan had not told him 
 he was to leave Lerwick that morning ; in fact, 
 Jan had purposely left Snorro ignorant of his 
 movements. But the good fellow could not 
 hide the joy he felt, and Peter looked at him 
 wrathfully. 
 
 It was seldom Peter went to see his daughter, 
 but that evening he made her a call. What- 
 ever she knew she would tell him, and he did 
 not feel as if he could rest until he got the clue 
 to Jan's connection with Tulloch. But when 
 he named it to Margaret, he found she v/as 
 totally ignorant of Jan's departure. The news 
 shocked her. Her work dropped from her 
 hand ; she was faint with fear and amazement. 
 Jan had never before left her in anger, without 
 a parting word or kiss. Her father's complaints 
 and fears about Tulloch she scarcely heeded. 
 Jan's behavior toward herself was the only 
 thought in her mind. Peter learned nothing 
 from her; but his irritation was much increased 
 by what he considered Margaret's unreasonable 
 sorrow over a bad husband. He could not 
 bear a crying woman, and his daughter's sobs 
 angered him. 
 
 " Come thou home to thy mother," he said, 
 
08 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " when thy eyes are dry ; but bring no tears to 
 my house for Jan Vedder." 
 
 Then Margaret remembered that she had 
 threatened Jan with this very thing. Evidently 
 he had dared her to do it by this new neglect 
 and unkindness. She wandered up and down 
 the house, full of wretched fears and memories ; 
 love, anger, pride, each striving for the mastery. 
 Perhaps the bitterest of all her thoughts to- 
 ward her husband arose from the humiliating 
 thought of "what people would say." For 
 Margaret was a slave to a wretched thraldom 
 full of every possible tragedy she would see 
 much of her happiness or misery through the 
 eyes of others. 
 
 She felt bitterly that night that her married 
 life had been a failure ; but failures are gener- 
 ally brought about by want of patience and 
 want of faith. Margaret had never had much 
 patience with Jan ; she had lost all faith in 
 him. " Why should she not go home as her 
 father told her?" This question she kept 
 asking herself. Jan had disappointed all her 
 hopes. As for Jan's hopes, she did not ask 
 herself any questions about them. She looked 
 around the handsome home she had given him; 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME. 69 
 
 she considered the profitable business which 
 might have been his on her father's retirement 
 or death ; and she thought a man must be 
 wicked who could regard lightly such blessings. 
 As she passed a glass she gazed upon her own 
 beauty with a mournful smile and thought 
 anew, how unworthy of all Jan had been. 
 
 At daybreak she began to put carefully away 
 such trifles of household decoration as she 
 valued most. Little ornaments bought in 
 Edinburgh, pieces of fancy work done in her 
 school days, fine china, or glass, or napery. 
 She had determined to lock up the house and 
 go to her father's until Jan returned. Then 
 he would be obliged to come for her, and in 
 any dispute she would at least have the benefit 
 of a strong position. Even with this thought, 
 full as it was of the most solemn probabilities, 
 there came into her niggardly calculations the 
 consideration of its economy. She would not 
 only save all the expenses of housekeeping, 
 but all her time could be spent in making fine 
 knitted goods, and a great many garments 
 might thus be prepared before the annual fair. 
 
 This train of ideas suggested her bank book. 
 That must certainly go with her, and a faint 
 
70 JAN VEDDER*S WIFE, 
 
 smile crossed her face as she imagined the sun 
 prise of her father and mother at the amount 
 it vouched for that was, if she concluded to 
 tell them. She went for it ; of course it was 
 gone. At first she did not realize the fact; 
 then, as the possibility of its loss smote her, she 
 trembled with terror, and hurriedly turned 
 over and over the contents of the drawer. 
 " Gone ! " She said it with a quick, sharp cry, 
 like that of a woman mortally wounded. She 
 could find it nowhere, and after five minutes' 
 search, she sat down upon her bedside, and 
 abandoned herself to agonizing grief. 
 
 Yes, it was pitiable. She had begun the 
 book with pennies saved from sweeties and 
 story-books, from sixpences, made by knitting 
 through hours when she would have liked to 
 play. The ribbons and trinkets of her girlhood 
 and maidenhood were in it, besides many a 
 little comfort that Jan and herself had been 
 defrauded of. Her hens had laid for it, her 
 Seese been plucked for it, her hands had con- 
 stantly toiled for it. It had been the idol upon 
 the hearthstone to which had been offered up 
 the happiness of her youth, and before which 
 love lay slain. 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME, 7 1 
 
 At first its loss was all she could take in, but 
 very quickly she began to connect the loss with 
 Jan, and with the ;6oo he had asked her to 
 get for him at their last conversation. With 
 this conviction her tears ceased, her face grew 
 hard and white as ice. If Jan had used her 
 money she was sure that she would never speak 
 to him, never see him again. At that hour she 
 almost hated him. He was only the man who 
 had taken her 600. She forgot that he had 
 been her lover and her husband. As soon as 
 she could control herself she fled to her father's 
 house, and kneeling down by Peter's side 
 sobbed out the trouble that had filled her cup 
 to overflowing. 
 
 This was a sorrow Peter could heartily sym- 
 pathize with. He shed tears of anger and mor- 
 tification, as he wiped away those of his daugh- 
 ter.. It was a great grief to him that he could 
 not prosecute Jan for theft. But he was quite 
 aware that the law recognized Jan's entire right 
 to whatever was his wife's. Neither the fathei 
 nor daughter remembered how many years Jan 
 had respected his wife's selfishness, and for, 
 given her want of confidence in him ; the thing 
 he had done was an unpardonable wrong. 
 
72 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Thora said very little. She might have 
 reminded Peter that he had invested all her for- 
 tune in his business, that he always pocketed 
 her private earnings. But to what purpose ? 
 She did not much blame Jan for taking at last, 
 what many husbands would have taken at first, 
 but she was angry enough at his general unkind* 
 ness to Margaret. Yet it was not without 
 many forebodings of evil she saw Peter store 
 away in an empty barn all the pretty furni- 
 ture of Margaret's house, and put the key of 
 the deserted house in his pocket. 
 
 "And I am so miserable!" wailed the 
 wretched wife, morning, noon, and night. Her 
 money and her husband supplied her with 
 perpetual lamentations, varied only by pitiful 
 defenses of her own conduct : " My house was 
 ever clean and comfortable ! No man's table 
 was better served ! I was never idle ! I wasted 
 nothing ! I never was angry ! And yet I am 
 robbed, and betrayed, and deserted ! There 
 never was so miserable a woman so unjustly 
 miserable ! " etc. 
 
 "Alas! my child," said Thora, one day, "did 
 you then expect to drink of the well of hap- 
 piness before death ? This is the great saying 
 
THE DESOLA TED HOME. 73 
 
 which we all forget : There not here there 
 the wicked cease from troubling ; there the 
 weary are at rest. There God has promised to 
 wipe away all tears, but not here, Margaret, 
 not 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 SHIPWRECK. 
 
 *' A man I am, crossed with adversity,*' 
 
 " There is some soul 01 goodness in things evi; 
 Would men observmgly distill it out '" 
 
 NO man set more nakedly side by side the 
 clay and spirit of his double nature than 
 Jan Vedder. No man wished so much and willed 
 so little. Long before he returned from his 
 first voyage, he became sorry for the deception 
 he had practiced upon his wife, and determined 
 to acknowledge to her his fault, as far as he saw 
 it to be a fault. He was so little fond of money, 
 that it was impossible for him to understand 
 the full extent of Margaret's distress ; but he 
 knew, at least, that she would be deeply grieved, 
 and he was quite willing to promise her, that as 
 soon as The Solan was clear of debt, he 
 would begin to repay her the money she prized 
 so much. 
 
 Her first voyage was highly successful, and he 
 
SHIPWRECK. 75 
 
 was, as usual, sanguine beyond all reasonable 
 probabilities ; quite sure, indeed, that Tulloch 
 and Margaret could both be easily paid off in 
 two years. Surely two years was a very short 
 time for a wife to trust her husband with 600. 
 Arguing, then, from his own good intentions, 
 and his own hopes and calculations, he had per- 
 suaded himself before he reached Lerwick 
 again that the forced loan was really nothing to 
 make any fuss about, that it would doubtless be 
 a very excellent thing, and fhat Margaret would 
 be sure to see it as he did. 
 
 The Solan touched Lerwick in the after- 
 noon. Jan sent a message to Tulloch, and 
 hastened to his home. Even at a distance the 
 lonely air of the place struck him unpleasantly, 
 There was no smoke from the chimneys, th< 
 windows were all closed. At first he thought, 
 " Margaret is gone for a day's visit somewhere 
 it is unlucky then." But as he reached th* 
 closed gate other changes made themselve 
 apparent. His Newfoundland dog, that ha<i 
 always known his step afar off, and came 
 bounding to meet him, did not answer his 
 whistle. Though he called Brenda, his pet 
 seal, repeatedly, she came not ; she, that had 
 
76 JAN VEDDER'S 
 
 always met him with an almost human affection. 
 He perceived before his feet touched the 
 threshold how it was: Margaret had gone to 
 her father's, or the animals and poultry would 
 have been in the yard. 
 
 His first impulse was to follow her there and 
 bring her home, and he felt in his pocket for 
 the golden chain and locket he had brought her 
 as a peace-offering. Then he reflected that 
 by the time he could reach Peter's house it 
 would be the tea-hour, and he did not intend 
 to discuss the differences between Margaret and 
 himself in Peter's presence. Thora's good 
 influence he could count upon ; but he knew it 
 would be useless either to reason with or pro- 
 pitiate Peter. For fully five minutes he stood 
 at his bolted door wondering what to do. He 
 felt his position a cruel one ; just home from a 
 prosperous voyage, and no one to say a kind 
 word. Yes, he could go to Torr's ; he would 
 find a welcome there. But the idea of the 
 noisy room and inquisitive men was disagree- 
 able to him. Snorro he could not see for some 
 hours. He determined at last that the quiet of 
 his own lonely home was the best place in 
 which to consider this new phase of 
 
SHIPWRECK. 77 
 
 between him and his wife, and while doing so 
 he could make a cup of tea, and wash and 
 refresh himself before the interview. 
 
 He unfastened the kitchen shutter and leaped 
 in. Then the sense of his utter desolation 
 smote him. Mechanically he walked through 
 the despoiled, dusty, melancholy rooms. Not 
 a stool left on which he could sit down. He 
 laughed aloud that wretched laugh of reckless 
 sorrow, that is far more pitiful than weeping. 
 Then he went to Torr's. People had seen him 
 on the way to his home, and no one had been 
 kind enough to prevent his taking the useless^ 
 wretched journey. He felt deeply wounded 
 and indignant. There were not half a dozen 
 men or women in Lerwick whose position in 
 regard to Jan would have excused their inter- 
 ference, but of that he did not think. Every 
 man and woman knew his shame and wrong. 
 Some one might have warned him. Torr 
 shook his head sympathetically at Jan's com- 
 plaints, and gave him plenty of liquor, and in 
 an hour he had forgotten his grief in a drunken 
 stupor. 
 
 The next morning he went to Peter's house 
 to see his wife. Peter knew of his arrival, and 
 
78 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 he had informed himself of all that had hap. 
 pened in Torr's room. Jan had, of course, 
 spoken hastily and passionately, and had drunk 
 deeply, and none of his faults had been kept 
 from Margaret. She had expected him to 
 come at once for her, to be in a passion prob- 
 ably, and to say some hard things, but she also 
 had certainly thought he would say them to 
 her, and not to strangers. Hour after hour 
 she watched, sick with longing and fear and 
 anger, hour after hour, until Peter came in, 
 stern and dour, and said : 
 
 "Get thee to thy bed, Margaret. Jan 
 Vedder has said words of thee this night 
 that are not to be forgiven, and he is now 
 fathoms deep in Torr's liquor. See thou speak 
 not with him good nor bad," and Peter 
 struck the table so angrily, that both women 
 were frightened into a silence, which he took 
 for consent. 
 
 So when Jan asked to see his wife, Thora 
 stood in the door, and in her sad, still way told 
 him that Peter had left strict orders against his 
 entering the house. 
 
 " But thou, mother, wilt ask Margaret to 
 come out here and speak to me ? Yes, thou 
 
SHIPWRECK. 7 X 
 
 wilt do that," and he eagerly pressed in Thora's 
 hand the little present he had brought. "Give 
 her this, and tell her I wait here for her." 
 
 After ten minutes' delay, Thora returned and 
 gave him the trinket back. Margaret wanted 
 her 600 and not a gold locket, and Jan had 
 not even sent her a message about it. His 
 return had brought back the memory of her 
 loss in all its first vividness. She had had a 
 dim hope that Jan would bring her money 
 with him, that he had only taken it to frighten 
 her ; to lose this hope was to live over again 
 her first keen sorrow. In this mood it was 
 easy for her to say that she would not see him, 
 or speak to him, or accept his gift; let him 
 give her back her 600, that was the whole 
 burden of her answer. 
 
 Jan put the unfortunate peace-offering in 
 his pocket, and walked away without a word. 
 " He will trouble thee no more, Margaret," 
 said Thora, quietly. Margaret fancied there 
 was a tone of reproach or regret in the voice. 
 It angered her anew, and she answered, " It is 
 well ; it were better if he had never come at 
 all." But in her heart she expected Jan to 
 come, and come again, until she pardoned him, 
 
8o fAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 She had no intention of finally casting him off. 
 She meant that he should suffer sufficiently to 
 insure his future good behavior. She had to 
 suffer with him, and she regarded this as the 
 hardest and most unjust part of the discipline. 
 She, who had always done her duty in all 
 things. 
 
 It is true she had permitted her father to 
 dismantle their home, but she had had a 
 distinct reason for that, and one which she 
 intended to have told Jan, had he come back 
 under circumstances to warrant the confidence. 
 In fact she had begun to dislike the house very 
 much. It was too small, too far away from her 
 mother, and from the town ; besides which, 
 Peter had the very house she longed for vacant, 
 and she hoped so to manage her father, as to 
 make the exchange she wished. Perhaps, too, 
 she was a little bit superstitious. No one had 
 ever been lucky in the house in which she and 
 Jan had lived. She sometimes felt angry at 
 her father for thrusting it upon them. Even 
 Elga Skade's love affairs had all gone wrong 
 there, and the girl was sure some malicious 
 sprite had power within its walls to meddle 
 and make trouble. Elga had left her, influ- 
 
SHIPWRECK. 8* 
 
 enced entirely by this superstition, and Mar- 
 garet had brooded upon it, until it had obtained 
 some influence over her ; otherwise, she would 
 not have permitted her father to dismantle the 
 unhappy home without a protest. 
 
 As it was, with all its faults she was begin- 
 ning to miss the independence it gave her. No 
 married woman ever goes back to the best of 
 homes, and takes the place of her maidenhood. 
 Her new servant, Trolla Bork, had warned her 
 pften of this. " When Bork was drowned," she 
 *aid, " I went back to my parents, but I did 
 not go back to my home. No, indeed ! There 
 is a difference, even where there is no unkind- 
 ness. Thy own home is a full cup. Weep, if 
 thou must weep, at thy own fireside." 
 
 After Margaret's refusal to see Jan, he went 
 back to his boat, and employed himself all day 
 about her cargo, and in settling accounts with 
 Tulloch. It was very late when he went to see 
 Snorro. But Snorro was waiting for him. Now 
 that things had come to a crisis he was ready to 
 hear all Jan's complaints ; he believed him in 
 all things to have done right. 
 
 " Thou hast asked her once, Jan," he said ; 
 " that was well and right. Thou shalt not go 
 
82 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 again. No, indeed ! Let her come and tell thee 
 she is sorry. Then thou can show her a man's 
 heart, and forgive her freely, without yea or 
 nay in the matter. What right had she to pull 
 thy house to pieces without thy knowledge? 
 Come, now, and I will show thee the place I 
 have made for thee when thou art in Lerwick." 
 
 There was a big loft over Peter's store, with 
 a narrow ladder-like stair to it. It was full of 
 the lumber of thirty years and tenanted by a 
 colony of Norway rats, who were on the most 
 familiar terms with Snorro. Many of them 
 answered to their names, none were afraid to 
 eat from his hand ; one old shrewd fellow, gray 
 with age, often crept into Snorro's bosom, and 
 in the warmth, lay hour after hour, watching 
 with wise, weird eyes the quiet face it trusted 
 as it bent over a book. 
 
 There was a corner in this garret with a win- 
 dow looking seaward, and here Snorro had 
 cleared a small space, and boarded it up like a 
 room. A bed of down and feathers, with a 
 cover of sealskins occupied one side ; two rude 
 seats, a big goods-box turned up for a table, 
 and some shelves full of the books Jan had 
 brought him, completed its furniture. 
 
SHIP WRECK. 83 
 
 " See here, Jan, I have been fifteen years 
 with Peter Fae, and no feet but mine have ever 
 entered this loft. Here thou canst be at peace. 
 My dear Jan, lie thee down, and sleep now." 
 
 Jan was glad to do it. He put the gold 
 locket on Snorro's table, and said, " Thou keep 
 it. I bought it for her, and she sent it back 
 to me." 
 
 " Some day she will be glad of it. Be thou 
 sure of that." 
 
 During the summer Jan made short and 
 quick voyages, and so he spent many an hour 
 in this little retreat talking with Snorro, for 
 he had much to annoy and trouble him. We 
 do not get over living sorrows as easily as dead 
 ones. Margaret in her grave would have lost 
 the power to wound him, and he would grad- 
 ually have ceased to lament her. But Margaret 
 weeping in her father's house ; Margaret pray- 
 ing in the kirk for strength to bear his neglect 
 and injustice ; Margaret throwing open the Blue- 
 beard chamber of their home, and discussing 
 its tragedy with his enemies ; this was a sorrow 
 there was no forgetting. On his return from 
 every voyage he sent her the money he had 
 made, and some little token of his love with it. 
 
84 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE, 
 
 She always sent both back without a word. She 
 understood from them that Jan would come no 
 more in person, and that she would have to make 
 the next advance, either by voice or letter. 
 Many times she had declared she would never 
 do this, and the declaration even in her tender- 
 est hours, bound her to her self-inflicted loneli- 
 ness and grief. So on Snorro's rude table the 
 pretty womanly trinkets accumulated, and 
 Snorro looked at them with constantly gath- 
 ering anger. 
 
 One morning in October he heard a thing 
 that made his heart leap. The physician of the 
 town hurried into the store, and cried, " Peter 
 Fae, here hath come a little man to thy house. 
 A handsome lad he is, indeed. Now then, go 
 and see him." 
 
 " What of my daughter, Doctor ?" 
 
 " She will do well enough. " 
 
 Snorro lifted never an eyelash, but his face 
 glowed like fire. Jan, then, had a son ! Jan's 
 son ! Already he loved the child. Surely he 
 would be the peacemaker. Now the mother 
 and father must meet. He had almost for- 
 given Margaret. How he longed for Jan to 
 come back. Alas ! when he did, Margaret was 
 
SHIPWRECK. 85 
 
 said to be dying ; Peter had not been at his 
 store for three days. 
 
 The double news met Jan as soon as he put 
 his foot on the quay. " Thou hast a son, Jan." 
 "Thy wife is dying." Jan was nearly dis- 
 traught. With all a man's strength of feeling, 
 he had emotions as fervent and vivid as a 
 woman : he forgot in a moment every angry 
 feeling, and hastened to his wife. Peter opened 
 the door ; when he saw Jan, he could have 
 struck him. He did what was more cruel, he 
 shut the door in his face, and drew the bolt 
 passionately across it 
 
 Jan, however, would not leave the vicinity 
 He stopped the doctor, and every one that 
 came and went. In a few hours this became 
 intolerable to Peter. He ordered him to go 
 away, but Jan sat on a large stone by the gate, 
 with his head in his hands, and answered him 
 never a word. Then he sent Thora to him. In 
 vain Jan tried to soften her heart. " Margaret 
 is unconscious, yet she mourns constantly for 
 thee. Thou art my child's murderer," she 
 said sternly. " Go thy ways before I curse thee." 
 
 He turned away then and went down to the 
 seaside, and threw himself, in an agony of 
 
86 JAN VEDDER' S WIFE. 
 
 despair, upon the sand and the yellow tangle. 
 Hour after hour passed ; physical exhaustion 
 and mental grief produced at length a kind of 
 lethargy, that oblivion, rather than sleep, which 
 comes to souls which have felt till they can feel 
 no longer. 
 
 Just at dark some one touched him, and 
 asked sternly, "Art thou drunk, Jan Vedder, 
 to-day ? To-day, when thy wife is dying ? " 
 
 " It is with sorrow I am drunk." Then he 
 opened his eyes and saw the minister standing 
 over him. Slowly he rose to his feet, and stood 
 stunned and trembling before him. 
 
 " Jan ! Go to thy wife. She is very ill. At 
 the last she may want thee and only thee." 
 
 " They will not let me see her. Do thou 
 speak to Peter Fae for me.'* 
 
 " Hast thou not seen her or thy son ? " 
 
 " I have not been within the door. Oh, do 
 thou speak for me ! " 
 
 "Come with me/' 
 
 Together they went back to Peter's house. 
 The door was locked, and the minister knocked. 
 
 " Who is there ? " 
 
 " It is I, and Jan Vedder. Peter, unbolt the 
 door." 
 
SHIP WRECK. 87 
 
 "Thou art God's minister and ever welcome ; 
 but I will not let Jan Vedder cross my door- 
 stone." 
 
 " Thou wilt let us both in. Indeed thou wilt. 
 I am amazed at thee, Peter. What God has 
 joined together, let no man put asunder. Art 
 thou going to strive against God ? I say to thee, 
 unbolt the door, unbolt it quick, lest thou be 
 too late. If thou suffer not mercy to pass 
 through it, I tell thee there are those who will 
 pass through it, the door being shut." 
 
 Then Peter drew the bolt and set the door 
 wide, but his face was hard as iron, and black 
 as midnight. 
 
 "Jan," said the minister, " thy wife and child 
 are in the next room. Go and see them, it will 
 be good for thee. Peter, well may the Lord 
 Christ say, ' I come as a thief in the night ' ; 
 and be sure of this, he will break down the bars 
 and burst open the doors of those who rise not 
 willingly to let him in." 
 
 In Shetland at that day, and indeed at the 
 present day, the minister has almost a papal 
 authority. Peter took the reproof in silence. 
 Doctor Balloch was, however, a man who in any 
 circumstances would have had influence and 
 
88 JAN VEDDER*S WIFE. 
 
 authority among those brought in contact with 
 him, for though he spared not the rod in the 
 way of his ministry, he was in all minor mat- 
 ters full of gentleness and human kindness. 
 Old and young had long ago made their hearts 
 over to him. Besides, his great learning and 
 his acquaintance with the tongues of antiquity 
 were regarded as a great credit to the town. 
 
 While Jan was in his wife's presence, Doc- 
 tor Balloch stood silent, looking into the fire : 
 Peter gazed out of the window. Neither spoke 
 until Jan returned. Then the minister turned 
 and looked at the young man. It was plain 
 that he was on the verge of insensibility again. 
 He took his arm and led him to a couch. " Lie 
 down, Jan ;" then turning to Peter he said, 
 " Thy son has had no food to-day. He is faint 
 and suffering. Let thy women make him some 
 tea, and bring him some bread and meat." 
 
 " I have said that he shall not eat bread in 
 my house.'* 
 
 " Then thou hast said an evil and uncharita- 
 ble thing. Unsay it, Peter. See, the lad is 
 fainting ! " 
 
 " I can not mend that. He shall not break 
 bread in my house." 
 
SHIPWRECK. 89 
 
 " Then I say this to thee. Thou shalt not 
 break bread at thy Lord's supper in His house. 
 No, thou shalt not, for thou would be doing it 
 unworthily, and eating damnation to thyself. 
 What saith thy Lord Christ? If thine enemy 
 hunger, feed him. Now, then, order the bread 
 and tea for Jan Vedder." 
 
 Peter called a woman servant and gave the 
 order. Then, almost in a passion, he faced the 
 minister, and said, " Oh, sir, if thou knew the 
 evil this man hath done me and mine ! " 
 
 " In such a case Christ's instructions are very 
 plain ' Overcome evil with good/ Now, thou 
 knowest thy duty. If thou sin, I have warned 
 thee the sin is on thy own head." 
 
 Jan heard nothing of this conversation. The 
 voices of the two men were only like spent 
 waves breaking on the shores of his conscious- 
 ness. But very soon a woman brought him a 
 basin of hot tea, and he drank it and ate a few 
 mouthfuls. It gave him a little strength, he 
 gathered himself together, opened the door. 
 and without speaking went out into the night. 
 The minister followed, watching him carefully, 
 until he saw Michael Snorro take him in his big 
 arms, and carry him to a pile of sealskins. 
 Then he knew that he was in good hands. 
 
90 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE 
 
 Poor Jan ! He was utterly spent and miser 
 able. The few minutes he had passed at 
 Margaret's side, had brought him no comfort. 
 He heard her constantly muttering his name, 
 but it was in the awful, far-distant voice of a 
 soul speaking through a dream. She was 
 unconscious of his presence ; he trembled in 
 hers. Just for a moment Thora had allowed 
 him to lift his son, and to press the tiny face 
 against his own. Then all was darkness, and a 
 numb, aching sorrow, until he found himself in 
 Snorro's arms. 
 
 Many days Tvi^rgaret Vedder lay between 
 life and death, but at length there was hope, 
 and Jan sailed again. He went away very 
 miserable, though he had fully determined it 
 should be his last voyage if Margaret wished it 
 so. He would see her on his return, he would 
 tell her how sorry he was, he would sell The 
 Solan and give back the 600 ; he would even 
 humble himself to Peter, and go back to the 
 store, if there were no other way to make 
 peace with Margaret. He felt that no personal 
 sacrifice would be too great, if by it he could 
 win back his home, and wife, and son. The 
 babe had softened his heart. He told himself 
 
SHIPWRECK. 91 
 
 oh, so often "Thou art a father;*' and no 
 man could have had a sweeter, stronger sense 
 of the obligations the new relation imposed. 
 He was so sure of himself that he could not 
 help feeling equally sure of Margaret, and also 
 of Peter. " For the child's sake, they will for- 
 give me, Snorro, and I'll do well, yes, I will do 
 well for the future/' 
 
 Snorro had many fears, but he could not 
 bear to throw cold water on Jan's hopes and 
 plans for reformation. He did not believe that 
 his unconditional surrender would be a good 
 foundation for future happiness. He did not 
 like Jan's taking the whole blame. He did 
 not like his giving up The Solan at Marga* 
 ret's word. Neither Peter Fae, nor his daughter, 
 were likely to exalt any one who humbled 
 himself. 
 
 " It is money in the hand that wins," said 
 Snorro, gloomily, " and my counsel is, that thou 
 bear thyself bravely, and show her how well 
 The Solan hath done already, and how likely 
 she is to clear herself and pay back that weari- 
 ful 600 before two years have gone away. If 
 she will have it, let her have it. Jan, how could 
 .she give thee up for ^600 ! Did she lovethee?" 
 
92 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 "I do believe she did and does yet, 
 Snorro." 
 
 " Only God, then, understands women. But 
 while thou art away, think well of this and that, 
 and of the things likely to follow, for still I 
 see that forethought spares afterthought and 
 after-sorrow/' 
 
 With words like these ringing in his ears, 
 Jan again sailed The Solan out of Lerwick. 
 He intended to make a coasting voyage only, 
 but he expected delay, for with November had 
 come storm and cold, fierce winds and roaring 
 seas. Edging along from port to port, taking 
 advantage of every tide and favorable breeze, 
 and lying to, when sailing was impossible, 
 six weeks were gone before he reached Kirk- 
 wall in the Orkneys. Here he intended to 
 take in his last cargo before steering for home. 
 A boat leaving Kirkwall as he entered, carried 
 the news of The Solan's arrival to Lerwick, 
 and then Snorro watched anxiously every tide 
 for Jan's arrival. 
 
 But day after day passed and The Solan 
 came not. No one but Snorro was uneasy. In 
 the winter, in that tempestuous latitude, boats 
 were often delayed for weeks. They ran from 
 
SHIPWRECK. 93 
 
 shelter to shelter in constant peril of ship- 
 wreck, and with a full cargo a good skipper 
 was bound to be prudent. But Snorro had a 
 presentiment of danger and trouble. He 
 watched night after night for Jan, until even 
 his strength gave way, and he fell into a deep 
 sleep. He was awakened by Jan's voice. In 
 a moment he opened the door and let him 
 in. 
 
 Alas ! Alas, poor Jan ! It was sorrow upon 
 sorrow for him. The Solan had been driven 
 upon the Quarr rocks, and she was a total 
 wreck. Nothing had been saved but Jan's 
 life, even that barely. He had been so bruised 
 and injured that he had been compelled to rest 
 in the solitary hut of a coast-guardsman many 
 days. He gave the facts to Snorro in an 
 apathy. The man was shipwrecked as well as 
 the boat. It was not only that he had lost 
 every thing, that he had not a penny left in the 
 world, he had lost hope, lost all faith in himself, 
 lost even the will to fight his ill fortune any 
 longer. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 MARGARET'S HEART. 
 
 " Do not drop in for an after loss. 
 Ah, do not, when my heart hath scap'd this sorrow, 
 Come in the rereward of a conquered woe." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS, xc< 
 
 " Man is his own star, and the soul that can 
 Render an honest and a perfect man 
 Commands all light, all influence, all fate. 
 Nothing to him falls early, or too late." 
 
 FLETCHER'S " HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE." 
 
 JAN, the sole survivor of The Solan, had 
 brought the news of his own misfortune, 
 but there was no necessity to hasten its publi- 
 cation. Nothing could be gained by telling it 
 at once, and no one could be helped, so Snorro 
 advised him to sleep all the following day. 
 Jan hardly needed the advice. In a few 
 minutes he sank into a dreamless lethargic 
 sleep, which lasted nearly twenty-four hours. 
 When he awoke from it, he said, " I will see 
 Tulloch, and then I will sleep again, Snorro." 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 9$ 
 
 "Let me go for thee." 
 
 " Nay, then he will think that I am a coward. 
 I must tell my own tale ; he can but be 
 angry." 
 
 But Tulloch took his loss with composure. 
 " Thou did the best that could be done, Jan," 
 he answered, when Jan had told the story of 
 the shipwreck ; " wind and wave are not at thy 
 order. " 
 
 " Thou wilt say that for me ? It is all I ask. 
 I did my best, Tulloch." 
 
 " I will say it ; and in the spring I will see 
 about another boat. I am not afraid to trust 
 thee." 
 
 Jan looked at him gratefully, but the hope 
 was too far off to give much present comfort to 
 him. He walked slowly back to the retreat 
 Snorro had made for him, wondering how he 
 was to get the winter over, wondering if Mar- 
 garet would see him, wondering how best to 
 gain her forgiveness, longing to see her face but 
 not daring to approach her without some prep- 
 aration for the meeting. For though she had 
 come back to life, it had been very slowly. 
 Snorro said that she never left the house, that 
 she was still wan and weak, and that on the 
 
90 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 rare occasions when he had been sent to Peter's 
 house, she had not spoken to him. 
 
 After his interview with Tulloch, he fell into 
 a sound sleep again. When he awoke the day 
 was well begun, and Peter was at the store. 
 Looking through the cracks in the rude floor- 
 ing, he could see him carefully counting his 
 cash, and comparing his balance. Snorro, for 
 a wonder, was quite idle, and Peter finally 
 looked at him, and said fretfully : 
 
 "There is this and that to do. What art 
 thou standing still for? " 
 
 " A man may stand still sometimes. I feel 
 not like work to-day/' 
 
 " Art thou sick, then ? " 
 
 " Who can tell ? It may be sickness/' 
 
 He stood thoughtfully by the big fire and 
 cnoved not. Peter went on with his figures in 
 a fidgety way. Presently Tulloch entered. 
 The banker's visits were rare ones, and Peter 
 was already suspicious of them. But he laid 
 down his pen, and with scrupulous civility said, 
 " Good morning to thee, Tulloch Deacon Tul- 
 loch, I should say. Wilt thou buy or sell 
 aught this morning ? " 
 
 " Good morning, Fae. 1 came to thee for 
 news. Where is thy son Jan staying? " 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 97 
 
 Peter's face darkened. " I know nothing at 
 all about Jan Vedder. If he is at sea, he is out 
 of thy world ; if he is in harbor, he will be at 
 Ragon Torr's, or onboard The Solan." 
 
 " The Solan hath gone to pieces on the Quarr 
 Rocks." 
 
 Just for a moment a thrill of sinful triumph 
 made Peter's brown face turn scarlet, but he 
 checked it instantly. "I heard not that," he 
 said gravely. 
 
 " Only Jan escaped ship and crew went to 
 the bottom." 
 
 Peter shut his mouth tight, he was afraid tc 
 trust himself to speak. 
 
 " But Jan did his very best, no man could 
 have done more. I saw him last night. He 
 is ill and broken down by his trouble. Put out 
 thy hand to him. Thou do that, and it will be 
 a good thing, Fae." 
 
 " Thou mind thy own affairs, Deacon Tulloch." 
 
 " Well then it is my affair to tell thee, that 
 there is a time for anger and a time for for- 
 giveness. If Jan is to be saved, his wife can 
 now do it. At this hour he is sick and sore- 
 hearted, and she can win him back, she can save 
 him now, Fae." 
 
98 JAN VEDDER' S WIFE. 
 
 "Shall I lose my child to save Jan Vedder? 
 What is it to thee? What can thou know 
 of a father's duty? Thou, who never had 
 child. Deacon thou may be, but thou art 
 no Dominie, and I will order my household 
 without thy word, thus or so. Yes, indeed I 
 will!" 
 
 " Just that, Fae. I have spoken for a good 
 man. And let me tell thee, if Margaret Ved- 
 der is thy daughter, she is also Jan's wife ; 
 and if I were Jan, I would make her do a 
 wife's duty. If all the women in Shetland 
 were to run back to their fathers for a little 
 thing that offended them, there would be an 
 end of marrying." 
 
 Peter laughed scornfully. " Every one 
 knows what well-behaved wives old bachelors 
 have." 
 
 " Better to be a bachelor, than have a wife 
 like poor Jan Vedder has." 
 
 " Thou art talking of my daughter. Wilt thou 
 mind thy own affairs?" 
 
 "I meant well, Fae. I meant well. Both 
 thee and I have much need of heaven's mercy. 
 It will be a good thing for us to be merciful, 
 I am willing to help and trust Jan again. Thou 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 99 
 
 do so too. Now I will say ' good morning ', 
 for I see thou art angry at me." 
 
 Peter was angry, intensely angry. Under 
 the guise of Christian charity, Tulloch had come 
 into his store and insulted him. Peter would 
 believe in no other motive. And yet he was 
 scarcely just to Tulloch, for his intentions had 
 first and mainly been sincerely kind ones ; 
 but the tares are ever among the wheat, and it 
 was true enough that before the interview was 
 over Tulloch had felt a personal pleasure in his 
 plain speaking. 
 
 Very soon there was a little crowd in Fae's 
 store. It was a cold, blustering day, and its 
 warmth and company made it a favorite loung- 
 ing place. Jan's misfortune was the sole topic 
 of conversation, and Jan's absence was un- 
 favorably criticised. Why did he not come 
 among his fellows and tell them how it had hap- 
 pened ? Here were good men and a good ship 
 gone to the bottom, and he had not a word to 
 say of the matter. They were all curious about 
 the wreck, and would have liked to pass the 
 long stormy day in talking it over. As it was, 
 they had only conjectures. No one but Tulloch 
 had een Jan. They wondered where he was. 
 
roo JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " At Torr's, doubtless," said Peter, harshly. 
 " It is likely. Jan ever flew to the brandy 
 keg for comfort." 
 
 " It is like he had been there before he steered 
 for the Quarr Rocks." 
 
 " It did not need brandy. He was ever 
 careless." 
 
 " He was foolhardy more than careless." 
 " I never thought that he knew the currents 
 and the coast, as a man should know it who 
 has life and goods to carry safe." 
 
 " He had best be with his crew ; every man 
 of it was a better man than he is." 
 
 Snorro let them talk and wonder. He 
 would not tell them where Jan was. One 
 group succeeded another, and hour after hour 
 Snorro stood listening to their conversation, 
 with shut lips and blazing eyes. Peter looked 
 at him with increasing irritability. 
 
 " Art thou still sick, Snorro ? " he asked at 
 length. 
 " Not I." 
 
 "Why, then, art thou idle?" 
 "I am thinking. But the thought is too 
 much for me. I can make nothing of it." 
 Few noticed Snorro's remark, but old Jal 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. IOI 
 
 Sinclair said, " Tell thy thought, Snorro. There 
 are wise men here to read it for thee ; very 
 wise men, as thou must have noticed." 
 
 Snorro caught something in the old man's 
 face, or in the inflection of his voice, which 
 gave him an assurance of sympathy, so he 
 said : " Well, then, it is this. Jan Vedder is 
 evidently a very bad man, and a very bad 
 sailor ; yet when Donald Twatt's boat sunk in 
 the Vorr Ness, Jan took his bonnet in his hand, 
 arid he put his last sovereign in it, and he went 
 up and down Lerwick till he had got 40 for 
 Twatt. And he gave him a suit of his own 
 clothes, and he would hear no word wrong of 
 him, and he said, moreover, that nothing had 
 happened Twatt but what might happen the 
 best man and the best sailor that ever lived 
 when it would be God's own time. I thought 
 that was a good thing in Jan, but no one has 
 spoke of it to-day." 
 
 " People have ever thought thee a fooL 
 Snorro. When thou art eighty years old, as Jal 
 Sinclair is, perhaps thou wilt know more. Jan 
 Vedder should have left Twatt to his trouble ; 
 he should have said, ' Twatt is a drunken fellow, 
 or a careless, foolhardy fellow ; he is a bad 
 
102 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 sailor, a bad man, and he ought to have gone 
 to the bottom/ ' Then there was a minute's 
 uncomfortable silence, and the men gradually 
 scattered. 
 
 Peter was glad of it. He had no particular 
 pleasure in any conversation having Jan for a 
 topic, and he was burning and smarting at 
 Tulloch's interference. It annoyed him also 
 to see Snorro so boldly taking Jan's part. His 
 indignant face and brooding laziness was a new 
 element in the store, and it worried Peter far 
 beyond its importance. He left unusually 
 early, and then Snorro clostd the doors, and 
 built up the fire, and made some tea, and 
 broiled mutton and bloaters, and set his few 
 dishes on the box which served him fora table. 
 Jan had slept heavily all day, but when Snorro 
 brought the candle near, he opened his eyes 
 and said, " 1 am hungry, Snorro/' 
 
 " I have come to tell thee there is tea and 
 meat waiting. All is closed, and we can eat 
 and talk, and no one will trouble us." 
 
 A Shetlander loves his tea, and it pleased 
 Snorro to see how eagerly Jan drank cup after 
 cup. And soon his face began to lose its weary, 
 indifferent look, and he ate with keen relish the 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 103 
 
 simple food before him. In an hour Jan was 
 nearly like himself once more. Then he 
 remembered Margaret. In the extremity of 
 his physical weakness and weariness, he had 
 forgotten every thing in sleep, but now the 
 delay troubled him. " I ought to have seen 
 my wife to-day, Snorro ; why did thou let me 
 sleep ?" 
 
 " Sleep was the first thing, and now we will 
 see to thy clothes. They must be mended, 
 Jan." 
 
 Jan looked down at the suit he wore. It was 
 torn and shabby and weather-stained, and it 
 was all he had. But Snorro was as clever as 
 any woman with the needle and thread. The 
 poor fellow, indeed, had never had any woman 
 friend to use a needle for him, and he soon 
 darned, and patched, and washed clean what 
 the winds and waves had left of Jan's once 
 handsome suit of blue. 
 
 As he worked they talked of the best means 
 of securing an interview with Margaret, for Jan 
 readily guessed that Peter would forbid it, and 
 it was finally decided that Snorro should take 
 her a letter, as soon as Peter was at the store 
 next day. There was a little cave by the sea- 
 
104 JAN VEDDER 'S WIFE. 
 
 side half way between the town and Peter's 
 house, and there Jan was to wait for Snorro's 
 report. 
 
 In the meantime Peter had reached his 
 home. In these days it was a very quiet, 
 somber place. Thora was in ill health, in much 
 worse health than any one but herself sus- 
 pected, and Margaret was very unhappy. This 
 evening Thora had gone early to bed, anc? 
 Margaret sat with her baby in her arms. When 
 her father entered she laid him in the cradle. 
 Peter did not like to have it in any way forced 
 upon his notice, and Margaret understood ^ ell 
 enough that the child was only tolerated for 
 her sake. So, without any of those little fond 
 obtrusive ways so natural to a young mother, 
 she put the child out of the way, and sat down 
 to serve her father's tea. 
 
 His face was dark and angry, his heart felt 
 hard to her at that hour. She had brought so 
 much sorrow and shame on him. She had been 
 the occasion of so many words and acts of 
 which he was ashamed. In fact, his conscience 
 was troubling him, and he was trying to lay 
 the whole blame of his cruelty and injustice on 
 her. For some time he did not speak, and she 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 105 
 
 was too much occupied with her own thoughts 
 to ask him any questions. At length he 
 snapped out, " Jan Vedder came back to Ler- 
 wick yesterday/' 
 
 " Yesterday ? " 
 
 " I said yesterday. Did thou think he would 
 run here to see thee the first moment ? Not 
 he. He was at Tulloch's last night. He will 
 have been at Torr's all day, no doubt/' 
 
 Margaret's eyes filled with tears, and Peter 
 looked angrily at her. 
 
 " Art thou crying again ? Now listen, thou 
 art not like to see him at all. He has thrown 
 thy 600 to the bottom of the sea ship, cargo, 
 c*nd crew, all gone." 
 
 " Jan ? Father, is Jan safe ? " 
 
 " He is safe enough. The devil holds his 
 own from water. Now, if he does come to see 
 thee, thou shalt not speak with him. That is 
 my command to thee." 
 
 Margaret answered not, but there was a look 
 upon her face, which he understood to mean 
 rebellion. 
 
 "Bring me the Bible here." Then as he 
 turned to the place he wanted, he said : " Now ; 
 Margaret, if thou art thinking to disobey thy 
 
106 JAN VEDDER* S WIFE. 
 
 father, I want thee to hear in what kind of 
 company thou wilt do so ; " and he slowly 
 read aloud : 
 
 " ' Backbiters haters of God despiteful 
 proud boasters inventors of evil things dis- 
 obedient to parents ;' dost thou hear, Margaret? 
 ^disobedient to parents without understanding 
 covenant breakers without natural affection 
 implacable unmerciful/ " 
 
 " Let me see him once, father ? Let me see 
 him for half an hour." 
 
 " Not for one moment. Disobey me if thou 
 dares." 
 
 " He is my husband." 
 
 "I am thy father. Thy obligation to me 
 began with thy birth, twenty years before thou 
 saw Jan Vedder. Between man and wife there 
 may be a divorce, between father and daughter 
 there can be no bill of separation. The tie of 
 thy obedience is for life, unless thou wilt take 
 the risk of disobeying thy God. Very well, 
 then, I say to thee, thou shalt not speak to Jan 
 Vedder again, until he has proved himself 
 worthy to have the care of a good woman. 
 That is all I say, but mind it ! If thou disobey 
 me, I will never speak to thee again. I will 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 107 
 
 send thee and thy child from my sight, I will 
 leave every penny I have to my two nephews, 
 Magnus and Thorkel. That is enough. Where 
 is thy mother? " 
 
 " She is in pain, and has gone to bed." 
 " It is a sick house, I think. First, thou wert 
 like to die, and ever since thy mother hath been 
 ill ; that also is Jan Vedder's doing, since thou 
 must needs fret thyself into a fever for him." 
 Then he took his candle and went to his sick 
 wife, for he thought it best not to weaken his 
 commands by any discussion concerning 
 them. 
 
 Margaret did what most mothers would have 
 done, she lifted her child for consolation. It 
 was a beautiful child, and she loved it with an 
 idolatrous affection. It had already taught her 
 some lessons strange enough to Margaret Ved- 
 der. For its sake she had become conciliating, 
 humble, patient ; had repressed her feelings of 
 mother-pride, and for the future good of her 
 boy, kept him in a corner as it were. She had 
 never suffered him to be troublesome, never 
 intruded him upon the notice of the grand- 
 father whom some day doubtless he would com- 
 pletely conquer. Ah, if she had only been 
 
I08 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 half as unselfish with Jan ! Only half as pru- 
 dent for Jan's welfare ! 
 
 She lifted the boy and held him to her 
 breast. As she watched him, her face grew 
 lovely. " My child ! " she whispered, " for 
 thee I can thole every thing. For thy sake, I 
 will be patient. Nothing shall tempt me to 
 spoil thy life. Thou shalt be rich, little one, 
 and some day thee and I will be happy to- 
 gether. Thy father robbed thee, but I will not* 
 injure thee ; no, indeed, I will not ! " 
 
 So, after all, Jan's child was to be the barrier 
 between him and his wife. If Jan had chosen 
 to go back to the class from which she had 
 taken him, she would at least save her child 
 from the suffering and contempt of poverty. 
 What she would have done for his father, she 
 would do for him. Yes, that night she fully 
 determined to stand by her son. It might be 
 a pleasure for her to see Jan, and even to be 
 reconciled to him, but she would not sacrifice 
 her child's inheritance for her own gratification. 
 She really thought she was consummating a 
 grand act of self-denial, and wept a few pitiful 
 tears over her own hard lot. 
 
 In the morning Peter was unusually kind to 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 109 
 
 her. He noticed the baby, and even allowed her 
 to lay it in his arms while she brought him his 
 seal-skin cloak and woolen mufflers. It was a 
 dangerous advance for Peter ; he felt his heart 
 strangely moved by the sleeping child, and he 
 could not avoid kissing him as he gave him 
 back to his mother. Margaret smiled at her 
 father in her deep joy, and said softly to him, 
 " Now thou hast kissed me twice." Nothing 
 that Peter could have done would have so 
 bound her to him. He had sealed his com- 
 mand with that kiss, and though no word of 
 promise was given him, he went to his store 
 comparatively light-hearted ; he was certain his 
 daughter would not disobey him. 
 
 While this scene was transpiring, one far 
 more pathetic was taking place in Snorro's 
 room. Jan's clothes had been washed and 
 mended, and he was dressing himself with an 
 anxious desire to look well in his wife's eyes 
 that was almost pitiful. Snorro sat watching 
 him. Two women could hardly have been 
 more interested in a toilet, or tried harder to 
 make the most out of poor and small materials. 
 Then Jan left his letter to Margaret with 
 Snorro, and went to the cave agreed upon, to 
 await the answer- 
 
no fAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Very soon after Peter reached the store, 
 Snorro left it. Peter saw him go, and he sus- 
 pected his errand, but he knew the question had 
 to be met and settled, and he felt almost sure 
 of Margaret that morning. At any rate, she 
 would have to decide, and the sooner the 
 better. Margaret saw Snorro coming, but she 
 never associated the visit with Jan. She 
 thought her father had forgotten something 
 and sent Snorro for it. So when he knocked, 
 she said instantly, " Come in, Michael Snorro/' 
 
 The first thing Snorro saw was the child. 
 He went straight to the cradle and looked at 
 it. Then he kneeled down, gently lifted the 
 small hand outside the coverlet, and kissed it. 
 When he rose up, his face was so full of love 
 and delight that Margaret almost forgave him 
 every thing. " How beautiful he is," he whis- 
 pered, looking back at the sleeping babe. 
 
 Margaret smiled ; she was well pleased at 
 Snorro's genuine admiration. 
 
 " And he is so like Jan only Jan is still 
 more beautiful." 
 
 Margaret did not answer him. She was 
 washing the china cups, and she stood at the 
 table with a towel over her arm. Snorro 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. in 
 
 thought her more beautiful than she had been 
 on her wedding day. During her illness, most 
 of her hair had been cut off, and now a small 
 white cap covered her head, the short, pale- 
 brown curls just falling beneath it on her brow 
 and on her neck. A long, dark dress, a white 
 apron, and a white lawn kerchief pinned over 
 her bosom, completed her attire. But no lady 
 in silk or lace ever looked half so womanly. 
 Snorro stood gazing at her, until she said, 
 "Well, then, what hast thou come for? " 
 
 With an imploring gesture he offered her 
 Jan's letter. 
 
 She took it in her hand and turned it over, 
 and over, and over. Then, with a troubled face, 
 she handed it back to Snorro. 
 
 " No, no, no, read it ! Oh, do thou read it ! 
 Jan begs thee to read it ! No, no, I will not 
 take it back ! " 
 
 " I dare not read it, Snorro. It is too 
 late too late. Tell Jan he must not come 
 here. It will make more sorrow for me. If 
 he loves me at all, he will not come. He is 
 not kind to force me to say these words. Tell 
 him I will not, dare not, see him ! " 
 
 " It is thou that art unkind. He has been 
 
713 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 shipwrecked, Margaret Vedder; bruised and 
 cut, and nearly tossed to death by the waves. 
 He is broken-hearted about thee. He loves 
 thee, oh, as no woman ever deserved to be 
 loved. He is thy husband. Thou wilt see 
 him, oh yes, thou wilt see him ! " 
 
 " I will not see him, Snorro. My father hath 
 forbid me. If I see Jan, he will turn me and 
 the child from the house." 
 
 " Let him. Go to thy husband and thy own 
 home." 
 
 " My husband hath no home for me." 
 
 " For thou pulled it to pieces." 
 
 " Go away, Snorro, lest worse words come. 
 I will not sacrifice that little innocent babe for 
 Jan." 
 
 " It is Jan's son thou art ruining Jan " 
 
 " Now, wilt thou go, Michael Snorro, and 
 tell Jan that I say what my father says : when 
 he is worthy of me I will come to him." 
 
 " I will go, but I will tell thee first, that Jan 
 will be worthy of thee long before thou art 
 worthy of him." Then, ere Margaret could 
 prevent him, he walked to the cradle, lifted the 
 child, and kissed it again and again, saying 
 between each kiss, " That is for thy father, 
 little one." 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 113 
 
 The child was crying when he laid it down, 
 and Margaret again angrily ordered him to 
 leave the house. Before she had soothed it to 
 peace, Snorro was nearly out of sight. Then 
 Thora, who had heard the dispute, rose from 
 her bed and came u.to the room. She looked 
 ill and sad, and asked faintly, " What is this 
 message sent to Jan Vedder? He will not 
 believe it. Look for him here very soon, and 
 be sure what thou doest is right." 
 
 " My father told me what to do." 
 
 " Yet ask thy heart and thy conscience also. 
 It is so easy for a woman to go wrong, Mar- 
 garet ; it is almost impossible for her to put 
 wrong right. Many a tear shall she wash it 
 out with/' 
 
 " I have done no wrong to Jan. Dost thou 
 think so ? " 
 
 " When one gets near the grave, Margaret, 
 there is a little light from beyond, and many 
 things are seen not seen before. Oh, be sure 
 thou art right about Jan ! No one can judge 
 for thee. Fear not to do what thy heart says, 
 for at the end right will come right, and wrong 
 will come wrong." 
 
 There was a solemn stillness after this con- 
 
H4 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 versation. Thora sat bent over beside the fire 
 musing. Margaret, wearied with the feelings 
 which her interview with Snorro had called 
 forth, rested upon the sofa ; she was suffering, 
 and the silence and melancholy of her mother 
 seemed almost a wrong to her. It was almost 
 as if she had taken Jan's part. 
 
 A knock at the door startled both women. 
 Thora rose and opened it. It was Jan. 
 " Mother," he said, " I want to see my wife 
 and child." 
 
 " Margaret, speak for thyself." 
 
 " I dare not see Jan. Tell him so." 
 
 Thora repeated the message. 
 
 " Ask Margaret if that is her last word to 
 me?" 
 
 Mechanically Thora asked the question, and 
 after an agonizing pause Margaret gasped out, 
 4< Yes, yes until " 
 
 " Ask her to stand a moment at the window 
 with the child. I long to see them." Then he 
 turned to go to the window, and Thora shut 
 the door. But it was little use repeating Jan's 
 request, Margaret had fainted, and lay like one 
 dead, and Thora forgot every thing till life 
 returned to her daughter. Then as the apparent 
 
MARGARET'S HEART. 115 
 
 unkindness was irrevocable and unexplainable, 
 she said nothing of it. Why should she add 
 to the sorrow Margaret was suffering? 
 
 And as for Jan, the universal opinion was 
 that he ought to suffer. He had forfeited his 
 wife, and his home, and his good name, and he 
 had lost his boat. When a man has calamity 
 upon calamity the world generally concludes 
 that he must be a very wicked man to deserve 
 them. Perhaps the world is right ; but it is 
 also just possible that the world, even with its 
 six thousand years of gathered wisdom, may 
 be wrong. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE MAN AT DEATH'S DOOR. 
 
 " Thoughts hardly to be packed 
 
 Into a narrow act, 
 Fancies that broke through language and escaped, 
 
 All I could never be, 
 
 All men ignored in me, 
 This I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped .* 
 
 IT must be remembered, however, that Mar- 
 garet was bound by ties whose strength 
 this generation can hardly conceive. The 
 authority of a father over a child in England 
 and Scotland is still a very decided one. 
 Fifty years ago in Shetland it was almost abso- 
 lute. Margaret believed the fifth command- 
 ment to be as binding upon her as the first 
 From her childhood it had been pointed out 
 to her as leading all the six defining our duty 
 to our fellow-creatures. Therefore if she 
 thought her father's orders regarding Jan 
 unkind, the possibility of disobeying them 
 never presented itself. 
 
THE MAN A T DA TH'S DOOR, 1 1 ? 
 
 Jan's troubles were pointed out to her as the 
 obvious results of Jan's sins. How could he 
 expect a blessing on a boat bought as he had 
 bought The Solan? And what was the use of 
 helping a man who was always so unfortunate ? 
 If Peter did not regard misfortune as a sin, he 
 drew away from it as if it were something even 
 worse. Sometimes God blesses a man through 
 poverty, sometimes through riches, but until 
 the rod blossoms even good Christians call it a 
 chastening rod. Margaret had a dread of 
 making her child share Jan's evil destiny : 
 perhaps she was afraid of it for herself. Self 
 is such an omnipresent god, that it is easy to 
 worship him in the dark, and to obey 
 him almost unconsciously. When Margaret 
 recovered from her faint, she was inclined to 
 think she deserved praise for what she called 
 her self-denial. She knew also that her father 
 would be satisfied with her conduct, and Peter's 
 satisfaction took tangible forms. He had 
 given her ^100 when she broke up her home 
 and left Jan ; she certainly looked for some 
 money equivalent for her present obedience. 
 And yet she was quite positive this latter con- 
 sideration had in no way at all influenced her 
 
ii$ JAN VEDDER*S WIFE. 
 
 decision ; she was sure of that ; only, there could 
 be no harm in reflecting that a duty done 
 would have its reward. 
 
 As for Jan, he let people say whatever they 
 chose to say about him. To Tulloch and to 
 Michael Snorro he described the tempest, and 
 the desperation with which he had fought for 
 his boat and his life ; but defended himself to 
 no one else. Day after day he passed in the 
 retreat which Snorro had made him, and lying 
 there he could plainly hear the men in 
 Peter's store talk about him. Often he met 
 the same men in Torr's at night, and he laughed 
 bitterly to himself at their double tongues. 
 There are few natures that would have been 
 improved by such a discipline ; to a man who 
 had lost all faith in himself, it was a moral 
 suicide. 
 
 Down, down, down, with the rapidity with 
 which fine men go to ruin, went Jan. Every little 
 thing seemed to help him to the bottom ; yes, 
 even such a trifle as his shabby clothes. But 
 shabby clothes were not a trifle to Jan. There are 
 men as well as women who put on respectability 
 with respectable raiment ; Jan was of that class. 
 He was meanly dressed and he felt mean, and he 
 
THE MAN A T DEA Tff'S DOOR. 119 
 
 had no money to buy a new suit. All Snorro's 
 small savings he had used long before for one 
 purpose or another, and his wages were barely 
 sufficient to buy food, and to pay Jan's bill at 
 Torr's ; for, alas ! Jan would go to Torr's. 
 Snorro was in a sore strait about it, but if 
 Torr's bill were not paid, then Jan would go to 
 Inkster's, a resort of the lowest and most sus- 
 picious characters. Between the two evils he 
 chose the lesser. 
 
 And Jan said in the freedom of Torr's many 
 things which he ought not to have said : many 
 hard and foolish things, which were repeated 
 and lost nothing by the process. Some of 
 them referred to his wife's cruelty, and to 
 Peter Fae's interference in his domestic con- 
 cerns. That he should talk of Margaret at all 
 in such a place was a great wrong. Peter took 
 care that she knew it in its full enormity ; and 
 it is needless to say, she felt keenly the insult 
 of being made the subject of discussion among 
 the sailor husbands who gathered in Ragon 
 Torr's kitchen. Put a loving, emotional man 
 like Jan Vedder in such domestic circumstan- 
 ces, add to them almost hopeless poverty and 
 social disgrace, and any one could predict with 
 apparent certainty his final ruin. 
 
1 20 JAN' VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Of course Jan, in spite of his bravado of in- 
 difference, suffered very much. He had fits of 
 remorse which frightened Snorro. Under 
 their influence he often wandered off for two 
 or three days, and Snorro endured during them 
 all the agonies of a woman who has lost her 
 child. 
 
 One night, after a long tramp in the wind 
 and snow, he found himself near Peter Fae's 
 house, and a great longing came over him to 
 see his wife and child. He knew that Peter 
 was likely to be at home and that all the doors 
 were shut. There was a bright light in the 
 sitting-room, and the curtains were undrawn. 
 He climbed the inclosure and stood beside the 
 window. He could see the whole room plainly. 
 Peter was asleep in his chair on the hearth. 
 Thora sitting opposite him, was, in her slow 
 quiet way, crimping with her fingers the lawn 
 ruffles on the newly ironed clothes. Margaret, 
 with his son in her arms, walked about the 
 room, softly singing the child to sleep. He 
 knew the words of the lullaby an old Finnish 
 song that he had heard many a mother sing. 
 He could follow every word of it in Margaret's 
 soft, clear voice ; and, oh, how nobly fair, bow 
 
THE MAN AT DEATH'S DOOR. 121 
 
 calmly good and far apart from him she 
 seemed ! 
 
 " Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bird of the meadow ! 
 
 Take thy rest, little Redbreast. 
 Sleep stands at the door and says, 
 
 The son of sleep stands at the door and says, 
 Is there not a little child here ? 
 
 Lying asleep in the cradle ? 
 A little child wrapped up in swaddling clothes, 
 
 A child reposing under a coverlet of wool ? " 
 
 Jan watched the scene until he could endure 
 the heart-torture no longer. Had he not been 
 so shabby, so ragged, so weather-stained, he 
 would have forced his way to his wife's pres- 
 ence. But on such apparently insignificant 
 trifles hang generally the great events of life. 
 He could not bear the thought of this fair, 
 calm, spotless woman seeing him in such a 
 plight. He went back to Snorro, and was very 
 cross and unreasonable with him, as he had 
 been many times before. But Snorro was one 
 of those rare, noble souls, who can do great and 
 hopeless things, and continue to love what they 
 have seen fall. 
 
 He not only pitied and excused Jan, he 
 
122 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 would not suffer any one to wrong, or insult 
 him. All Torr's regular visitors feared the big 
 man with the white, stern face, who so often 
 called for Jan Vedder, and who generally took 
 his friend away with him. Any thing that is 
 genuine commands respect, and Snorro's love 
 for Jan was so true, so tender, and unselfish* 
 that the rudest soul recognized his purity. 
 Even in Peter's store, and among the better 
 class who frequented it, his honest affection 
 was not without its result. 
 
 Jan usually avoided the neighborhood when 
 Peter was there, but one afternoon, being half 
 intoxicated, he went rolling past, singing 
 snatches of " The Foula Reel." He was rag- 
 ged and reckless, but through every disadvan- 
 tage, still strikingly handsome. Michael Snorro 
 lifted himself from the barrel which he was 
 packing, and stood watching Jan with a face 
 full of an inexpressible sorrow. Some one 
 made a remark, which he did not hear, but he 
 heard the low scornful laugh which followed it, 
 and he saw Peter Fae, with a smile of con- 
 tempt, walk to the door, and glance up the 
 street after Jan. 
 
 " One thing I know," said Snorro, looking 
 
THE MAN A T DEA Tff'S DOOR. 1 23 
 
 angrily at the group, " all of you have laughed 
 in a very great company, for when a good man 
 takes the road to hell, there also laughs the 
 devil and all his angels. Yes, indeed. " 
 
 It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen among 
 them. Peter turned to his books, and one by one 
 the men left the store, and Jan Vedder's name 
 was not spoken again before Snorro by any one. 
 
 During the fishing season Jan went now and 
 then to sea, but he had no regular engagement. 
 Some said he was too unreliable ; others, more 
 honest, acknowledged they were superstitious 
 about him. "Sooner or later ill luck comes 
 with him/' said Neil Scarpa. " I would as lief 
 tread on the tongs, or meet a cat when going 
 fishing as have Jan Vedder in my boat," said 
 John Halcro. This feeling against him was 
 worse than shipwreck. It drove Jan to despair. 
 After a night of hard drinking, the idea of sui- 
 cide began to present itself, with a frightful 
 persistence. What was there for him but a 
 life of dislike and contempt, or a swift unre- 
 gretted death." 
 
 For it must be considered that in those days 
 the ends of the earth had not been brought 
 together. Emigration is an idea that hardly 
 
124 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 enters a Shetlander's mind at the present time ; 
 then it was a thing unknown. There were no 
 societies for information, or for assistance. 
 Every man relied upon his own resources, and 
 Jan had none. He was in reality, a soul made 
 for great adventures, condemned to fight life 
 in the very narrowest lists. 
 
 When the warm weather came, he watched 
 for Margaret, and made many attempts to see 
 her. But she had all the persistence of narrow 
 minds, ^he had satisfied herself that her duty 
 to her .,cher and to her son was before all 
 other duties, and no cruelty is so cruel as that 
 Which attacks its victims from behind the ram- 
 parts of Duty and Conscience. 
 
 Thora frequently saw Jan, and he pleaded 
 his cause eloquently to her. She was very 
 sorry for him, and at times also very angry 
 with him. She could not understand how 
 Margaret's treatment should have taken all the 
 heart and purpose out of his life. She would 
 not let him say so ; it was like casting the 
 blame of all his idleness and dissipation upon 
 her daughter. She would make no effort 
 towards a reconciliation ; while Margaret 
 held him in such small estimation, she was 
 
THE MAN A T DEA TH'S DOOR. 125 
 
 sure that there could be no permanence in one, 
 even if it could be effected. 
 
 Yet once or twice she spoke to Margaret in 
 Jan's favor. If Margaret had desired to dis- 
 obey her father, and see her husband, Thora's 
 sympathies would have been with her ; but no 
 mother likes to put herself in a position which 
 will give her child an opportunity of answering 
 her with a look of reproachful astonishment. 
 Something very like this had met her sugges- 
 tion that " Jan must love his child, and long to 
 see him." 
 
 Margaret was almost angry at such a sup- 
 position. " Jan love his child ! It was impos- 
 sible ! No man who did so, would behave as 
 Jan had done, and was still doing. To encour- 
 age Jan in any way was to disobey her father, 
 and throw herself and her child upon Jan's 
 mercies. She knew what they were. Even if 
 she could see it to be her duty to sacrifice her- 
 self, on no account would she sacrifice the babe 
 who had only her to think and care for him. 
 She would do nothing in any way to prejudice 
 its future." This was the tenor of her constant 
 conversation. It was stated anew every morn- 
 ing, it was reiterated every hour of the day ; 
 
126 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and with every day's reiteration, she became 
 more certain of her own wisdom and justice. 
 
 One night, after another useless effort to see 
 his wife, Jan went to Torr's, and found Hoi 
 Skager there. Jan was in a reckless mood, and 
 the thought of a quarrel was pleasant to him. 
 Skager was inclined to humor him. They had 
 many old grievances to go over, and neither of 
 them picked their words. At length Jan 
 struck Skager across the mouth, and Skager 
 instantly drew his knife. 
 
 In a moment Torr and others had separated 
 the men. Skager was persuaded to leave the 
 house, and Jan, partly by force and partly by 
 entreaty, detained. Skager was to sail at mid- 
 night, and Torr was determined that Jan should 
 not leave the house until that hour was passed. 
 Long before it, he appeared to have forgotten 
 the quarrel, to be indeed too intoxicated to 
 remember any thing. Torr was satisfied, but 
 his daughter Suneva was not. 
 
 About ten o'clock, Snorro, sitting in the back 
 door of the store, saw Suneva coming swiftly 
 towards him. Ere he could speak she said, 
 " Skager and Jan have quarreled and knives 
 have been drawn. If thou knowest where 
 
THE MAN" A T DEA Tff'S DOOR. I2f 
 
 Skager is at anchor, run there, for I tell thee, 
 there was more of murder than liquor in Jan's 
 eyes this night. My father thought to detain 
 him, but he hath slipped away, and thou may 
 be sure he has gone to find Skager/* 
 
 Snorro only said, " Thou art a good woman, 
 Suneva." He thought he knew Skager's har* 
 bor; but when he got there, neither boat nor 
 man was to be seen. Skager's other ground 
 was two miles in an opposite direction under 
 the Troll Rock, and not far from Peter Fae's 
 house. Snorro hastened there at his utmost 
 speed. He was in time to see Skager's boat, 
 half a mile out at sea, sailing southward. 
 Snorro's mental processes were slow. He stood 
 still to consider, and as he mused, the solemn 
 stillness of the lonely place was broken by a 
 low cry of pain. It was Jan's voice. Among 
 a thousand voices Snorro would have known it. 
 In a few moments he had found Jan, prone 
 upon the cliff edge bleeding from a wound in 
 his side. 
 
 He was still sensible and he smiled at Snorro, 
 saying slowly, " Thou must not be sorry. It is 
 best so." 
 
 Most fishermen know something of the treat- 
 
128 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 ment of a knife wound ; Snorro staunched the 
 blood-flow, as well as he was able, and then 
 with gigantic strides went to Peter Fae's. 
 Margaret sat spinning beside her baby's cradle, 
 Peter had gone to bed, Thora dozed at the fire- 
 side. 
 
 The impatience of his knock and voice 
 alarmed the women, but when Margaret heard 
 it was Snorro's voice, she quickly unfastened 
 the door. 
 
 " Is the store burning ? " she asked angrily, 
 " that thou comest in such hot haste ? " 
 
 " Thy husband has been murdered. Take 
 thou water and brandy, and go as quick as thou 
 canst run to the Troll's Rock. He lies there. 
 I am going for the doctor." 
 
 " Why did thou come here, Michael Snorro ? 
 Ever art thou a messenger of ill. I will not 
 
 g-" 
 
 " Go thou at once, or I will give thee a name 
 thou wilt shudder to hear. I will give it to thee 
 at kirk, or market, or wherever I meet thee." 
 
 Snorro fled to the town, almost in uttering 
 the words, and Thora, who had at once risen to 
 get the water and the brandy, put them into her 
 daughter's hands. " There is no time now for 
 
THE MAN A T DEA T&'S DOOR. 1 29 
 
 talking. I will tell thy father and send him 
 after thee. Shall we have blood on our souls ? 
 All of us?" 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do ? What shall I do ? " 
 "Art thou a woman? I tell thee, haste." 
 " I dare not oh, my child ! I will wake 
 father." 
 
 " I command thee to go this moment." 
 Then, almost in a passion, Margaret went. 
 The office of mercy had been forced upon her. 
 She had not been permitted to consider her 
 own or her child's interest. No one had thought 
 of her feelings in the matter. When she 
 reached Jan's side she was still indignant at the 
 peremptory way in which she had been treated. 
 He felt her there, rather than saw her " Mar- 
 garet ! " he said feebly, " Margaret ! At last ! " 
 " Yes, " she answered in bitter anger, " at 
 last. Hast thou called me to see thy shameful 
 end ? A name full of disgrace thou leaves to 
 me and to thy son." 
 
 " Forgive me I am sorry. Forgive ! " 
 " I will not forgive thee. No woman injured 
 as I have been, can forgive." 
 
 His helplessness did not touch her. Her own 
 wrongs and the wrongs of her child filled her 
 
130 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 heart. She was determined that at this hour 
 he should at least understand their full enor- 
 mity, and she spoke with all the rapid bitter- 
 ness of a slow, cold nature, wrought up to an 
 unnatural passion. In justifying herself she 
 forgot quite that she had been sent to succor 
 him until help arrived. She was turning away 
 when Jan, in a voice full of misery, uttered one 
 word : 
 
 " Water!" 
 
 Something womanly in her responded to the 
 pitiful, helpless cry. She went back, and kneel- 
 ing by his side, put the bottle to his mouth. 
 The touch of his head upon her arm stirred her 
 strangely ; ere she let it slip from her hold, he 
 had fainted. 
 
 " Oh Jan ! Jan ! Jan ! My husband ! My 
 husband ! Oh Jan, dear, forgive me ! Jan, I am 
 here ! It is thy Margaret ! I still love thee ! 
 Yes, indeed, I love thee ! " 
 
 But it was too late. There was no response. 
 She looked in horror and terror at the white 
 face at her feet. Then she fled back to the 
 house for help. Whether her father liked it or 
 not, Jan must now be brought there. In that 
 last moment she had forgiven him every thing. 
 
THE MAN A T DEA TH'S DOOR. 131 
 
 All the love of her betrothal had come like a 
 great wave over her heart. " Poor Jan ! Poor 
 Jan! " she sobbed, as she fled like a deer across 
 the moor. 
 
 Peter had been roused and had reluctantly 
 dressed himself. In such an hour of extremity 
 he would have to give the wounded man shel- 
 ter if he were brought there. But he tarried as 
 long as possible, hoping that Snorro would 
 remove Jan and take him into the town. To 
 be roused from sleep to confront such a problem 
 of duty was a very unpleasant affair, and Peter 
 was sulkily tying his shoe-strings when Mar- 
 garet, breathless and sobbing, returned for 
 him. 
 
 Her impetuosity and her emotion quite mas- 
 tered him. She compelled him to go with her 
 to Jan. But when they reached the Trol' 
 Rock Jan had disappeared. There was noth- 
 ing there but the blue sailor's cap which he had 
 worn. No human being was in sight. Any 
 party of relief brought by Snorro could be seen 
 for a mile. Margaret picked up the cap, and 
 gazed at it in a maze of anguish. Only one 
 thing could have happened. During her 
 absence consciousness had returned to Jan, 
 
132 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and he, poor soul, remembering her cruel words, 
 and seeing that she had left him there alone to 
 die, had purposely edged himself over the cliff. 
 The sea was twenty feet deep below it. She 
 put her hands before her eyes, and shrieked 
 until the welkin rang with her shrill, piercing 
 cries. Peter could do nothing with her, she 
 would not listen to him, and finally she became 
 so frantically hysterical that he was alarmed 
 for her life and reason, and had little oppor- 
 tunity that night to make any inquiries about 
 his troublesome son-in-law. 
 
 Now, when God will help a man, he hath his 
 own messenger. That night, Doctor Balloch sat 
 in the open door of his house. This door was 
 at the end of a little jetty to which his skiff was 
 tied ; and the whole expanse of the beautiful 
 bay was before him. It was covered with 
 boats, idly drifting about under the exquisite 
 sky. Light ripples of laughter, and sweet 
 echoes of song upon the waters, drifted toward 
 him. He had read his evening portion, and he 
 sat watching the flickering lights of the chang- 
 ing aurora. The portion had been the Nine- 
 teenth Psalm, and he was wishing that the 
 Sweet Singer of Israel, who thought the Judean 
 
THE MAN A T DBA TH'S DOOR. 133 
 
 heavens "declared the glory of God," could 
 have seen the Shetland skies. 
 
 Suddenly, and peremptorily, a voice encom- 
 passed him a soft, penetrating voice, that came 
 like the wind, he knew not how or whence, 
 " Take thy boat and go to the Troll Rock." 
 He rose at once and went to the end of the 
 jetty. The sea, darkly blue, was smooth as 
 glass, the air clear, the majestic headlands 
 imparting to the scene a solemn cathedral 
 grandeur. He strove to shake off the strange 
 impression, but it grew stronger and more im- 
 perative, and he said softly, as if answering 
 some one, " I will go." 
 
 He returned to the house and called his 
 servant Hamish. Hamish and he lived alone, 
 and had done so for more than thirty years, 
 and they thoroughly trusted each other. 
 
 " Untie the boat, Hamish. We are going for 
 a row. We will go as far as Troll Rock." 
 
 This rock projected over the sea, which 
 flowed into a large cave under it ; a cave which 
 had long been a favorite hiding place for smug- 
 gled cargoes. But when the minister reached 
 it, all was silence. Hamish looked at his mas- 
 ter curiously. What could he mean by resting 
 
134 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 on his oars and watching so desolate and dan 
 gerous a place? Very soon both were aware of 
 a human voice ; the confused, passionate echoes 
 of Margaret's above them ; and these had not 
 long ceased when Jan Vedder fell from the 
 rock into the water. 
 
 " This man is to be saved, Hamish ; it is what 
 we have come for/' Hamish quietly slipped 
 into the water, and when Jan, speechless and 
 insensible, rose to the surface, he caught him 
 with one arm and swam with him to the boat. 
 In another moment he was in the bottom of it, 
 and when he came to himself, his wound had 
 been dressed, and he was in the minister's own 
 bed. 
 
 " Now, thou wilt do well enough, Jan, only 
 thou must keep quiet body and mind." 
 
 " Tell no one I am here. Thou wilt do that 
 for me ? Yes, thou wilt. Let them think I am 
 at the bottom of the Troll Rock for God's 
 sake." 
 
 " I will tell no one, Jan. Thou art safe here ; 
 be at perfect rest about that matter." 
 
 Of course the minister thought Jan had com- 
 mitted some crime. It was natural for every 
 one to suspect Jan of doing wrong. But the 
 
THE MAN A T DEA TJ/'S DOOR. 1 35 
 
 fact that he had been sent so obviously to save 
 him was, in the doctor's mind, an evidence of 
 the divine interest in the youth which he was 
 glad to share. He had been appointed his 
 preserver, and already he loved him. He fully 
 trusted Hamish, but he thought it well to say 
 to him : 
 
 " We will speak to no one of our row to the 
 Troll Rock, Hamish." 
 
 " Does Hamish ever talk, master ? " 
 " No, thou art a wise man ; but here there is 
 more to guide than I yet understand.*' 
 " Look nor word of mine shall hinder it." 
 For four days the doctor stayed near Jan, 
 and never left his house. " I will be quiet and 
 let the news find me," he thought. It came 
 into the manse kitchen in various forms. Ham- 
 ish received every version of the story with 
 that grave shake of the head which fits so ad- 
 mirably every requirement of sympathy. " It 
 was all a great pity," was his most lengthy 
 comment ; but then Hamish never exceeded 
 half a dozen words on any subject. 
 
 On the fourth evening, which was Saturday, 
 Peter Fae sent this message to the minister : 
 " Wilt thou come down to my store for the 
 
'3 6 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE, 
 
 good of a wretched soul ? " It was then 
 getting late, and Peter stood in his shop-door 
 alone. He pointed to Michael Snorro, who sat 
 in a corner on some seal-skins in a stupor oi 
 grief. 
 
 " He hath neither eaten nor slept since. It 
 is pitiful. Thou knowest he never had too 
 much sense " 
 
 " I know very clever men who are fools, be- 
 sides Michael Snorro. Go thy ways home. I 
 will do what I can for him only, it had been 
 kinder, had thou sent for me ere this." 
 
 He went to Snorro and sat down beside him. 
 " Thou wilt let me speak to thee, Snorro. I 
 come in God's name. Is it Jan ? " 
 
 "Yes, it is Jan. My Jan, my Jan, my friend ! 
 the only one that ever loved me. Jan ! Jan ! 
 Jan ! " He said the last words in an intense 
 whisper. It seemed as if his heart would break 
 with each. 
 
 " Is Jan's loss all thy grief, Snorro ? " 
 
 " Nay, there is more. Has thou found it 
 out?" 
 
 " I think so. Speak to me." 
 
 " I dare not speak it." 
 
 " It is as sinful to think it. I am thy true 
 
THE MAN A T DEA TH % S DOOR. 137 
 
 friend. I come to comfort thee. Speak to me, 
 Snorro." 
 
 Then he lifted his face. It was overspread by 
 an expression of the greatest awe and sorrow: 
 
 "It is also my Lord Christ. He hath de- 
 ceived me. He said to me, whatsoever ye shall 
 ask in my name, that will I do. I asked him 
 always, eve'/y hour to take care of Jan. If I 
 was pack'n^ 1 the eggs, or loading the boats, or 
 eating my dinner, my heart was always pray- 
 ing, When Jan was at sea, I asked, * take care 
 of him/ when he was at Torr's, I prayed then 
 the more, ' dear Lord Christ, take care of him/ 
 I was praying for him that night, at the very 
 hour he perished. I can pray no more now. 
 What shall I do ? " 
 
 " Art thou sure thou prayed for the right 
 thing?" 
 
 " He said, * whatsoever/ Well, then, I took 
 him at his word. Oh yes, I believed every 
 word he said. At the last, I thought, he will 
 surely save Jan. I will pray till his time comes. 
 He will not deceive a poor soul like me, for he 
 knows right well that Snorro loves him." 
 
 "And so thou thinkest that Christ Jesus who 
 died for thee hath deceived thee ? " 
 
138 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " Well, then, he hath forgotten." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Snorro. He never forgets, 
 Behold he has graven thy name upon his hands. 
 Not on the mountains, for they shall depart ; 
 not on the sun, for it shall grow dark ; not on 
 the skies, for they shall melt with fervent heat ; 
 but on his own hand, Snorro. Now come with 
 me, and I will show thee, whether Lord Christ 
 heard thee praying or not, and I will tell thee 
 how he sent me, his servant always, to answer 
 thy prayer. I tell thee at the end of all this 
 thou shalt surely say : ' there hath not failed 
 one word of all his good promise, which he 
 promised.' " 
 
 Then he lifted Michael's cap and gave it to 
 him, and they locked the store door, and in 
 silence they walked together to the manse. For 
 a few minutes he left Snorro alone in the study. 
 There was a large picture in it of Christ upon 
 the cross. Michael had never dreamed of such 
 a picture. When the minister came back he 
 found him standing before it, with clasped 
 hands and streaming eyes. 
 
 " Can thou trust him, Michael ? " 
 
 "Unto death, sir." 
 
 "Come, tread gently. He sleeps," 
 
THE MAN A T DEA TH'S DOOR. 1 39 
 
 Wondering and somewhat awestruck Michael 
 followed the doctor into the room where Jan 
 lay. One swift look from the bed to the smil- 
 ing face of Jan's saviour was all Michael 
 needed. He clasped his hands above his head, 
 and fell upon his knees, and when the doctor 
 saw the rapture in his face, he understood the 
 transfiguration, and how this mortal might put 
 on immortality. 
 
CHAPTER VIII, 
 
 DEATH AND CHANGE. 
 
 ' Wield thine own arm ! the only way 
 To know life is by living." 
 
 WHEN Jan awoke Snorro was standing 
 motionless beside him. He feebly 
 stretched out his hand, and pulled him close, 
 closer, until his face was on the pillow beside 
 his own. 
 
 " Oh Jan, how could'st thou ? My heart 
 hath been nearly broken for thee." 
 
 " It is all well now, Snorro. I am going to a 
 new life. I have buried the old one below the 
 Troll Rock." 
 
 Until the following night the men remained 
 together. They had much to talk of, much 
 that related both to the past and the future. 
 Jan was particularly anxious that no one should 
 know that his life had been saved : " And 
 mind thou tell not my wife, Snorro," he said 
 
DBA TH AND CHANGE. 141 
 
 < Let her think herself a widow ; that will 
 please her best of all." 
 
 " There might come a time when it would be 
 right to speak." 
 
 " I can not think it." 
 
 " She might be going to marry again." 
 
 Jan's face darkened. " Yes, that is possible 
 well then, in that case, thou shalt go to the 
 minister ; he will tell thee what to do, or he 
 himself will do it." 
 
 " She might weep sorely for thee, so that she 
 were like to die." 
 
 " Mock me not, Snorro. She will not weep 
 forme. Well then, let me pass out of memory, 
 until I can return with honor." 
 
 " Where wilt thou go to ? " 
 
 ' Dost thou remember that yacht that was 
 tied to the minister's jetty four weeks ago? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember it." 
 
 " And that her owner stayed at the manse 
 for two days ? " 
 
 " Yes, I saw him. What then ? " 
 
 " He will be back again, in a week, in a few 
 days, perhaps to-morrow. He is an English 
 lord, and a friend of the minister's. I shall go 
 away with him. There is to be a new life for 
 
142 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 me another road to take ; it must be a better 
 one than that in which I have stumbled along 
 for the last few years. Thou art glad ? " 
 
 " Yes, Jan, I am glad." 
 
 " If things should happen so that I can send 
 for thee, wilt thou come to me ? " 
 
 " Yes, to the end of the world I will come. 
 Thee only do I love. My life is broken in two 
 without thee/' 
 
 Every day Snorro watched the minister's 
 jetty, hoping, yet fearing, to see the yacht 
 which was to carry Jan away. Every night 
 when the town was asleep, he went to the 
 manse to sit with his friend. At length one 
 morning, three weeks after Jan's disappearance, 
 he saw the minister and the English lord enter 
 Peter's store together. His heart turned sick 
 and heavy ; he felt that the hour of parting was 
 near. 
 
 Peter was to send some eggs and smoked 
 geese on board the yacht, and the minister 
 said meaningly to Snorro, " Be sure thou puts 
 them on board this afternoon, for the yacht sails 
 southward on the midnight tide." Snorro under- 
 stood the message. When the store was closed 
 he made a bundle of Jan's few clothes ; he had 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 143 
 
 washed and mended them all. With them he 
 put the only sovereign he possessed, and his 
 own dearly-loved copy of the Gospels. He 
 thought, " for my sake he may open them, and 
 then what a comfort they will be sure to give 
 him." 
 
 It was in Snorro's arms Jan was carried on 
 board at the very last moment. Lord Lynne 
 had given him a berth in the cabin, and he 
 spoke very kindly to Snorro. " I have heard," 
 he said, " that there is great love between you 
 two. Keep your heart easy, my good fellow ; I 
 will see that no harm comes to your friend." 
 And the grateful look on Snorro's face so 
 touched him that he followed him to the deck 
 and reiterated the promise. 
 
 It was at the last a silent and rapid parting. 
 Snorro could not speak. He laid Jan in his 
 berth, and covered him as tenderly as a mother 
 would cover her sick infant. Then he kissed 
 him, and walked away. Dr. Balloch, who 
 watched the scene, felt the deep pathos and 
 affection that had no visible expression but in 
 Snorro's troubled eyes and dropped head ; and 
 Lord Lynne pressed his hand as a last assurance 
 that he would remember his promise concern- 
 
144 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Jan's welfare. Then the anchor was lifted, and 
 the yacht on the tide-top went dancing south- 
 ward before the breeze. 
 
 At the manse door the minister said, " God 
 be thy consolation, Snorro! Is there any 
 thing I, his servant, can do for thee ? " 
 
 " Yes, thou can let me see that picture 
 again." 
 
 "Of the Crucified ?" 
 
 " That is what I need." 
 
 " Come then." 
 
 He took a candle from Hamish and led him 
 into the study. In the dim light, the pallid, 
 outstretched figure and the divine uplifted face 
 had a sad and awful reality. Even upon the 
 cultivated mind and heart, fine pictures have a 
 profound effect ; on this simple soul, who never 
 before had seen any thing to aid his imagina- 
 tion of Christ's love, the effect was far more 
 potent. Snorro stood before it a few minutes 
 full of a holy love and reverence, then, inno- 
 cently as a child might have done, he lifted up 
 his face and kissed the pierced feet. 
 
 Dr. Balloch was strangely moved and troubled. 
 He walked to the window with a prayer on his 
 lips, but almost immediately returned, and 
 touching Snorro, said - 
 
DEATH AND CHANGE. 145 
 
 " Take the picture with thee, Snorro. It is 
 thine. Thou hast bought it with that kiss." 
 
 " But thou art weeping ! " 
 
 " Because I can not love as thou dost. Take 
 what I have freely given, and go. Ere long the 
 boats will be in and the town astir. Thou hast 
 some room to hang it in?" 
 
 ' I have a room in which no foot but mine 
 will tread till Jan comes back again." 
 
 " And thou wilt say no word of Jan. He 
 must be cut loose from the past awhile. His 
 old life must not be a drag upon his new one. 
 We must give him a fair chance." 
 
 " Thou knows well I am Jan's friend to the 
 uttermost/' 
 
 Whatever of comfort Snorro found in the 
 pictured Christ, he sorely needed it. Life had 
 become a blank to him. There was his work, 
 certainly, and he did it faithfully, but even 
 Peter saw a great change in the man. He no 
 longer cared to listen to the gossip of the store , 
 he no longer cared to converse with any one. 
 When there was nothing for him to do, he sat 
 down in some quiet corner, buried his head in 
 his hands, and gave himself up to thought. 
 
 Peter also fancied that he shrank from him, 
 
146 JAN FODDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and the idea annoyed him ; for Peter had begun 
 to be sensible of a most decided change in the 
 tone of public opinion regarding himself. It 
 had come slowly, but he could trace and feel it. 
 One morning when he and Tulloch would have 
 met on the narrow street, Tulloch, to avoid 
 the meeting, turned deliberately around and 
 retraced his steps. Day by day fewer of the 
 best citizens came to pass their vacant hours in 
 his store. People spoke to him with more 
 ceremony, and far less kindness. 
 
 He was standing at his store door one after- 
 noon, and he saw a group of four or five men 
 stop Snorro and say something to him. Snorro 
 flew into a rage. Peter knew it by his atti- 
 tude, and by the passibnate tones of his 
 voice. He was vexed at him. Just at this 
 time he was trying his very best to be concil- 
 iating to all, and Snorro was undoubtedly say. 
 ing words he would, in some measure, be held 
 accountable for. 
 
 When he passed Peter at the store door, his 
 eyes were still blazing with anger, and his 
 usually white face was a vivid scarlet. Peter 
 followed him in, and asked sternly, " Is it not 
 enough that I must bear thy ill-temper? Who 
 
DEATH AND CHANGE. .4? 
 
 wert thou talking about? That evil Jan Ved* 
 der, I know thou wert ! " 
 
 ' We were talking of thee, if thou must 
 know.'* 
 
 ' What wert thou saying? Tell me ; if thou 
 wilt not, I will ask John Scarpa." 
 
 "Thou wert well not to ask. Keep thy 
 tongue still." 
 
 " There is some ill-feeling toward me. It 
 hath been growing this long while. Is it thy 
 whispering against me ? " 
 
 " Ask Tulloch why he would not meet thee ? 
 Ask John Scarpa what Suneva Glumm said last 
 night?" 
 
 " Little need for me to do that, since thou 
 can tell me." 
 
 Snorro spoke not. 
 
 " Snorro ? " 
 
 "Yes, master." 
 
 " How many years hast thou been with me?" 
 
 " Thou knows I came to thee a little lad." 
 
 " Who had neither home nor friends ? " 
 
 "That is true yet." 
 
 " Have I been a just master to thee?" 
 
 " Thou hast." 
 
 " Thou, too, hast been a just and faithful 
 
148 JAN VEDDER' S WIFE. 
 
 servant. I have trusted thee with every thing. 
 All has been under thy thumb. I locked not 
 gold from thee. I counted not after thee. 1 
 have had full confidence in thee. Well, then, it 
 seems that my good name is also in thy hands. 
 Now, if thou doest thy duty, thou wilt tell me 
 what Tulloch said." 
 
 " He said thou had been the ruin of a better 
 man than thyself/' 
 
 " Meaning Jan Vedder? " 
 
 " That was whom he meant." 
 
 "Dost thou think so?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so, too/' 
 
 " What did Suneva Glumm say ? " 
 
 " Well, then, last night, when the kitchen was 
 full, they were talking of poor Jan ; and Suneva 
 thou knowest she is a widow now and gone 
 back to her father's house Suneva, she strode 
 up to the table, and she struck her hand upon 
 it, and said, 'Jan was a fisherman, and it is 
 little of men you fishers are, not to make 
 inquiry about his death. Here is the matter/ 
 she said. ' Snorro finds him wounded, and 
 Snorro goes to Peter Fae's and sends Jan's wife 
 to her husband. Margaret Vedder says she 
 saw him alive and gave him water, and went 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 149 
 
 back for Peter Fae. Then Jan disappears, and 
 when Snorro gets back with a doctor and four 
 other men, there is no Jan to be found. I say 
 that Margaret Vedder or Peter Fae know what 
 came of Jan, one, or both of them, know. But 
 because the body has not been found, there 
 hath been no inquest, and his mates let him go 
 out of life like a stone dropped into the sea, 
 and no more about it." 
 
 " They told thee that ? " 
 
 " Ay, they did ; and John Scarpa said thou 
 had long hated Jan, and he did believe thou 
 would rather lose Jan's life than save it. Yes, 
 indeed ! " 
 
 " And thou ? " 
 
 " I said some angry words for thee. Ill thou 
 hast been to Jan, cruel and unjust, but thou did 
 not murder him. I do not think thou would do 
 that, even though thou wert sure no man would 
 know it. If I had believed thou hurt a hair of 
 Jan's head, I would not be thy servant to-day." 
 
 " Thou judgest right of me, Snorro. I 
 harmed not Jan. I never saw him. I did not 
 want him brought to my house, and therefore 
 I made no haste to go and help him ; but I hurt 
 not a hair of his head." 
 
150 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " I will maintain that every where, and to all.' 
 " What do they think came of Jan ? " 
 " What else, but that he was pushed over the 
 cliff-edge ? A very little push would put him 
 in the sea, and the under-currents between here 
 and the Vor Ness might carry the body far 
 from this shore. All think that he hath been 
 drowned/' 
 
 Then Peter turned away and sat down, silent 
 and greatly distressed. A new and terrible 
 suspicion had entered his mind with Snorro's 
 words. He was quite sure of his own innocence, 
 but had Margaret pushed Jan over ? From her 
 own words it was evident she had been angry 
 and hard with him. Was this the cause of the 
 frantic despair he had witnessed. It struck him 
 then that Margaret's mother had ever been cold 
 and silent, and almost resentful about the matter. 
 She had refused to talk of it. Her whole 
 behavior had been suspicious. He sat brooding 
 over the thought, sick at heart with the sin and 
 shame it involved, until Snorro said " It is 
 time to shut the door." Then he put on his 
 cloak and went home. 
 
 Home ! How changed his home had become ! 
 It was a place of silence and unconfessed sor> 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 15 1 
 
 row. All its old calm restfulness had gone. 
 Very soon after Jan's disappearance, Thorahad 
 taken to her bed, and she had never left it 
 since. Peter recognized that she was dying, 
 and this night he missed her sorely. Her quiet 
 love and silent sympathy had been for many a 
 year a tower of strength to him. But he could 
 not carry this trouble to her, still less did he 
 care to say any thing to Margaret. For the 
 first time he was sensible of a feeling of irrita- 
 tion in her presence. Her white despairing 
 face angered him. For all this trouble, in one 
 way or another, she was responsible. 
 
 He felt, too, that full of anxiety as he was, 
 she was hardly listening to a word he said. 
 Her ears were strained to catch the first move- 
 ment of her child, who was sleeping in the next 
 room. To every one he had suddenly become 
 of small importance. Both at home and 
 abroad he felt this. To such bitter reflections 
 he smoked his pipe, while Margaret softly sung 
 to her babe, and Thora, with closed eyes, lay 
 slowly breathing her life away : already so far 
 from this world, that Peter felt as if it would 
 be cruel selfishness to trouble her more with its 
 wrongs and its anxieties. 
 
15 a JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Four days afterward, Thora said to hei 
 daughter : " Margaret, I had a token early this 
 morning. I saw a glorious ship come sailing 
 toward me. Her sails were whiter than snow 
 under the moonshine ; and at her bow stood 
 my boy, Willie, my eldest boy, and he smiled 
 and beckoned me. I shall go away with the 
 next tide. Ere I go, thou tell me some- 
 thing?" 
 
 " Whatever thou ask me." 
 
 " What came of poor Jan Vedder?" 
 
 Then Margaret understood the shadow that 
 had fallen between herself and her mother ; 
 the chill which had repressed all conversation ; 
 the silent terror which had perchance hastened 
 death. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " she cried, " did thou really 
 have this fear? I never harmed Jan. I left 
 him on the cliff. God knows I speak the truth. 
 I know no more." 
 
 " Thank God! Now I can go in peace." 
 Margaret had fallen on her knees by the bed- 
 side, and Thora leaned forward and kissed 
 her. 
 
 "Shall I send for father?" 
 
 "He will come in time." 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 153 
 
 A few hours afterward she said in a voice 
 already far away, as if she had called back from 
 a long distance, " When Jan returns be thou 
 kinder to him, Margaret." 
 
 " Will he come back ? Mother, tell me ! " 
 
 But there was no answer to the yearning 
 cry. Never another word from the soul that 
 had now cast earth behind it. Peter came 
 home early, and stood gloomily and sorrowfully 
 beside his companion. Just when the tide 
 turned, he saw a momentary light flash over 
 the still face, a thrill of joyful recognition, a 
 sigh of peace, instantly followed by the pallor, 
 and chill, and loneliness of death. 
 
 At the last the end had come suddenly. 
 Peter had certainly known that his wife was 
 dying, but he had not dreamed of her slipping 
 off her mortal vesture so rapidly. He was 
 shocked to find how much of his own life would 
 go with her. Nothing could ever be again just 
 as it had been. It troubled him also that there 
 had been no stranger present. The minister 
 ought to have been sent for, and some two or 
 three of Thora's old acquaintances. There 
 was fresh food for suspicion in Thora Fae being 
 allowed to pass out of life just at this time, 
 
154 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 with none but her husband and daughter near, 
 and without the consolation of religious rites. 
 
 Peter asked Margaret angrily, why she had 
 neglected to send for friends and for the 
 minister? 
 
 " Mother was no worse when thou went to 
 the store this morning. About noon she fell 
 asleep, and knew nothing afterward. It would 
 have been cruel to disturb her." 
 
 But in her own heart Margaret was con- 
 scious that under any circumstances she would 
 have shrunk from bringing strangers into the 
 house. Since Jan's disappearance, she had 
 been but once to kirk, for that once had been 
 an ordeal most painful and humiliating. None 
 of her old friends had spoken to her ; many 
 had even pointedly ignored her. Women excel 
 in that negative punishment which they deal 
 out to any sister whom they conceive to have 
 deserved it. In a score of ways Margaret 
 Vedder had been made to feel that she was 
 under a ban of disgrace and suspicion. 
 
 Some of this humiliation had not escaped 
 Peter's keen observation ; but at the time he 
 had regarded it as a part of the ill-will which 
 he also was consciously suffering from, and 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 155 
 
 which he was shrewd enough to associate with 
 the mystery surrounding the fate of his son-in- 
 law. Connecting it with what Snorro had said, 
 he took it for further proof against his daugh- 
 ter. Thora's silence and evident desire to 
 be left to herself, were also corroborative. 
 Did Thora also suspect her? Was Margaret 
 afraid to bring the minister, lest at the last 
 Thora might say something ? For the same 
 reason, had Thora's old intimates been kept 
 away? Sometimes the dying reveal things 
 unconsciously ; was Margaret afraid of this ? 
 When once suspicion is aroused, every thing 
 feeds it. Twenty-four hours after the first 
 doubt had entered Peter's heart, he had almost 
 convinced himself that Margaret was respon- 
 sible for Jan's death. 
 
 He remembered then the stories in the 
 Sagas of the fair, fierce women of Margaret's 
 race. A few centuries previously they had 
 ruled things with a high hand, and had seldom 
 scrupled to murder the husbands who did not 
 realize their expectations. He knew some- 
 thing of Margaret's feelings by his own ; her 
 wounded self-esteem, her mortification at Jan's 
 /allures, her .anger at her poverty and loss of 
 
*5 6 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 money, her contempt for her own position. If 
 she had been a man, he could almost have 
 excused her for killing Jan ; that is, if she had 
 done it in fair fight. But crimes which are 
 unwomanly in their nature shock the hardest 
 heart, and it was unwomanly to kill the man 
 she had loved and chosen, and the father of her 
 child ; it was, above all, a cowardly, base deed 
 to thrust a wounded man out of life. He tried 
 to believe his daughter incapable of such a 
 deed, but there were many hours in which he 
 thought the very worst of her. 
 
 Margaret had no idea that her father nursed 
 such suspicions ; she felt only the change and 
 separation between them. Her mother's doubt 
 had been a cruel blow to her ; she had never 
 been able to speak of it to her father. That 
 he shared it, never occurred to her. She was 
 wrapped up in her own sorrow and shame, and 
 at the bottom of her heart inclined to blame 
 her father for much of the trouble between her 
 and Jan. If he had dealt fairly with Jan after 
 the first summer's fishing, Jan would never 
 have been with Skager. And how eager he 
 had been to break up her home! After all, 
 Jan had been the injured man ; he ought to 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 57 
 
 have had some of her tocher down. A little 
 ready money would have made him satisfied 
 and happy ; her life and happiness had been 
 sacrificed to her father's avarice. She was sure 
 now that if the years could be called back, she 
 would be on Jan's side with all her heart. 
 
 Two souls living under the same roof and 
 nursing such thoughts against each other were 
 not likely to be happy. If they had ever come 
 to open recrimination, things uncertain might 
 have been explained ; but, for the most part, 
 there was only silence in Peter's house. Hour 
 after hour, he sat at the fireside, and never 
 spoke to Margaret. She grew almost hysteri- 
 cal under the spell of this irresponsive trouble. 
 Perhaps she understood then why Jan had fled 
 to Torr's kitchen to escape her own similar 
 exhibitions of dissatisfaction. 
 
 As the months wore on, things in the store 
 gradually resumed their normal condition, 
 Jan was dead, Peter was living, the tide of pop- 
 ular feeling turned again. Undoubtedly, how- 
 ever, it was directed by the minister's positive, 
 almost angry, refusal to ask Peter before the 
 kirk session to explain his connection with 
 Jan's disappearance. He had never gone much 
 
158 JAN rEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 to Peter's store, but for a time he showed his 
 conviction of Peter's innocence by going every 
 day to sit with him. It was supposed, of course, 
 that he had talked the affair thoroughly over 
 with Peter, and Peter did try at various times 
 to introduce the subject. But every such 
 attempt was met by a refusal in some sort on 
 the minister's part. Once only he listened to 
 his complaint of the public injustice. 
 
 " Thou can not control the wind, Peter," he 
 said in reply ; "stoop and let it pass over the^. 
 I believe and am sure thy hands are clear of 
 Jan's blood. As to how far thou art otherwise 
 guilty concerning him, that is between God and 
 thy conscience. But let me say, if I were 
 asked to call thee before the kirk session on 
 the count of unkindness and injustice, I would 
 not feel it to be my duty to refuse to do so." 
 Having said this much, he put the matter out 
 of their conversation ; but still such a visible 
 human support in his dark hour was a great 
 comfort to Peter. 
 
 It was a long and dreary winter. It is 
 amazing how long time can be when Sorrow 
 counts the hours. Sameness, too, adds to 
 grief ; there was nothing to vary the days. 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. !$* 
 
 Margaret went to bed every night full of that 
 despairing oppression which hopes nothing 
 from the morrow. Even when the spring came 
 again her life had the same uniform gray tinge. 
 Peter had his fisheries to look forward to, and 
 by the end of May he had apparently quite 
 recovered himself. Then he began to be a 
 little more pleasant and talkative to his daugh- 
 ter. He asked himself why he should any 
 longer let the wraith of Jan Vedder trouble his 
 life ? At the last he had gone to help him ; if 
 he were not there to be helped, that was not his 
 fault. As for Margaret, he knew nothing posi- 
 tively against her. Her grief and amazement 
 had seemed genuine at the time; very likely it 
 was ; at any rate, it was better to bury forever 
 the memory of a man so inimical to the peace 
 and happiness of the Faes. 
 
 The fishing season helped him to carry out 
 this ' resolution. His hands were full. His 
 store was crowded. There were a hundred 
 things that only Peter could do for the fish- 
 ers. Jan was quite forgotten in the press and 
 hurry of a busier season than Lerwick had ever 
 seen. Peter was again the old bustling, conse- 
 quential potentate, the most popular man in 
 
160 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 the town, and the most necessary. He cared 
 little that Tulloch still refused to meet him ; he 
 only smiled when Suneva Glumm refused to 
 let him weigh her tea and sugar, and waited 
 for Michael Snorro. 
 
 Perhaps Suneva's disdain did annoy him a 
 little. No man likes to be scorned by a good 
 and a pretty woman. It certainly recurred to 
 Peter's mind more often than seemed neces- 
 sary, and made him for a moment shrug his 
 shoulders impatiently, and mutter a word or 
 two to himself. 
 
 One lovely moonlight night, when the boats 
 were all at sea, and the town nearly deserted, 
 Peter took his pipe and rambled out fora walk. 
 He was longing for some womanly sympathy, 
 and had gone home with several little matters 
 on his heart to talk over with Margaret. But 
 unfortunately the child had a feverish cold, and 
 how could she patiently listen to fishermen's 
 squabbles, and calculations of the various 
 "takes," when her boy was fretful and suffer- 
 ing? So Peter put on his bonnet, and with his 
 pipe in his mouth, rambled over the moor. He 
 had not gone far before he met Suneva Glumm. 
 Under ordinary circumstances he would have 
 
DEATH AND CHANGE. l6l 
 
 let her pass him, but to-night he wanted to 
 talk, and even Suneva was welcome. He sud- 
 denly determined " to have it out with her," 
 and without ceremony he called to her. 
 
 " Let me speak to thee, Suneva ; I have some- 
 thing to say." 
 
 She turned and faced him : " Well then, say 
 it." 
 
 " What have I done to get so much of thy 
 ill-will ? I, that have been friends with thee 
 since I used to lift thee over the counter and 
 give thee a sweet lozenger ? " 
 
 "Thou did treat poor Jan Vedder so 
 badly." 
 
 "And what is Jan Vedder to thee, that thou 
 must lift his quarrel ? " 
 
 " He was my friend, then." 
 
 " And thy lover, perhaps. I have heard that 
 he loved thee before he ever saw my Margaret 
 when she was at school in Edinburgh." 
 
 " Thou hast heard lies then ; but if he had 
 loved me and if I had been his wife, Jan had 
 been a good man this day ; good and loving. 
 Yes, indeed ! " 
 
 " Art thou sure he is dead ? " 
 
 " Peter Fae, if any one can answer that ques* 
 
162 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 tion, thou can ; thou and thy daughter Mar- 
 garet." 
 
 " I have heard thou hast said this before 
 now." 
 
 "Ay, I have said it often, and I think it." 
 
 " Now, then, listen to me, and see how thou 
 hast done me wrong." 
 
 Then Peter pleaded his own cause, and he 
 pleaded it with such cleverness and eloquence 
 that Suneva quite acquitted him. 
 
 " I believe now thou art innocent," she an- 
 swered calmly. " The minister told me so long 
 ago. I see now that he was right." Then she 
 offered Peter her hand, and he felt so pleased 
 and grateful that he walked with her all the 
 way to the town. For Suneva had a great deal 
 of influence over the men who visited Torr's, 
 and most of them did visit Torr's. They 
 believed all she said. They knew her warm, 
 straightforward nature, and her great beauty 
 gave a kind of royal assurance to her words. 
 
 7eter was therefore well pleased that he had 
 secured her good will, and especially that he had 
 convinced her of his entire innocence regarding 
 Jan's life. If the subject ever came up over the 
 fishers' glasses, she was a partisan worth hav- 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 1 63 
 
 ing. He went home well satisfied with himself 
 for the politic stroke he had made, and with the 
 success which had attended it. 
 
 Margaret had seen her father talking and 
 walking with Suneva, and she was very much 
 offended at the circumstance. In her anger 
 she made a most imprudent remark " My 
 mother not a year dead yet ! Suneva is a bold, 
 bad woman ! " 
 
 " What art thou thinking of ? Let me tell 
 thee it was of Jan Vedder, and Jan Vedder 
 only, that we spoke." 
 
 Not until that moment had it struck Peter 
 that Suneva was a widow, and he a widower. 
 But the thought once entertained was one he 
 was not disposed to banish. He sat still half 
 an hour and recalled her bright eyes, and good, 
 cheerful face, and the pleasant confidential chat 
 they had had together. He felt comforted even 
 in the memory of the warm grip of her hand, 
 and her sensible, honorable opinions. Why 
 should he not marry again ? He was in the 
 prime of life, and he was growing richer every 
 year. The more he thought of Suneva the 
 warmer his heart grew toward her. 
 
 He was not displeased when next day one of 
 
164 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 his old comrades told him in a pawkie, meaning 
 way, that he had "seen him walking with Glumm's 
 handsome widow." A man nearly sixty is just 
 as ready to suppose himself fascinating as a man 
 of twenty. Peter had his courtiers, and they 
 soon found out that he liked to be twitted about 
 Suneva ; in a little while a marriage between 
 the handsome widow and the rich merchant 
 was regarded as a very probable event. 
 
 When once the thought of love and marriage 
 has taken root in a man's heart it grows 
 rapidly. The sight of Suneva became daily 
 more pleasant to Peter. Every time she came 
 to the store he liked her better. He took care 
 to let her see this, and he was satisfied to 
 observe that his attentions did not prevent her 
 visits. 
 
 In a few weeks he had quite made up his 
 mind ; he was only watching for a favorable 
 opportunity to influence Suneva. In August, 
 at the Fisherman's Foy, it came. Peter was 
 walking home one night, a little later than 
 usual, and he met Suneva upon the moor. His 
 face showed his satisfaction. " Long have I 
 watched for this hour," he said ; " now thou must 
 walk with me a little, for I have again some 
 
DEA TH AND CHANGE. 165 
 
 thing to say to thee. Where hast thou been, 
 Suneva? " 
 
 11 Well, then, I took charge of Widow Thor- 
 kel's knitting to sell it for her. She is bed- 
 ridden, thou knows. I got a good price for her, 
 and have been to carry her the money." 
 
 " Thou art a kind woman. Now, then, be 
 kind to me also. I want to have thee for my 
 wife." 
 
 " What will thy daughter say to that ? She 
 never liked me nor have I much liked her." 
 
 " It will be long ere I ask my daughter if I 
 shall do this or that. It is thee I ask. Wilt 
 thou be my wife, Suneva ? " 
 
 " It would not be a bad thing." 
 
 " It would be a very good thing for me, and 
 for thee also. I should have thy pleasant face, 
 and thy good heart, and thy cheerful company 
 at my fireside. I will be to thee a loving hus- 
 band. I will give thee the house I live in, with 
 all its plenishing, and I will settle 70 a year on 
 thee." 
 
 " That is but a little thing for thee to do." 
 
 "Then I will make it a ;ioo a year. Now 
 what dost thou say ? " 
 
 " I will marry thee, Peter, and I will do my 
 
1 66 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 duty to thee, and make thee happy." Then 
 she put her hand in his, and he walked home 
 with her. 
 
 Next day all Lerwick knew that Peter was 
 going to marry Glumm's handsome widow. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JAN AT HIS POST. 
 
 " Then like an embryo bird 
 One day, he knew not how, but God that morn 
 Had pricked his soul he cracked his shelly case, and 
 Claimed his due portion in a larger life. 
 Into new life he starts, surveys the world 
 With bolder scope, and breathes more ample breath." 
 
 WITH a great sigh of content Jan resigned 
 himself to rest when the parting was 
 over; and "The Lapwing/* with wind and tide 
 in her favor, went almost flying down the black 
 North Sea. The motion of the vessel and the 
 scent of the salt breeze were like his mother's 
 lap and his native air. He had cast off his old 
 life like an old garment. Michael Snorro and 
 Dr. Balloch were the only memories of it he 
 desired to carry into his new one. But at the 
 first hour he could not even think of them. 
 He only wanted to sleep. 
 
168 JAN VEDDER*S WIFE. 
 
 Very soon sleep came to him, steeped him 
 from head to feet in forgetfulness, lulled him 
 fathoms deep below the tide of life and feel- 
 ing. It was after twelve the next noon when 
 he opened his eyes. Lord Lynne was sitting 
 at the cabin table just opposite his berth. It 
 took Jan two or three moments to remember 
 where he was, and during them Lord Lynne 
 looked up and smiled at him. Jan smiled 
 back a smile frank and trustful as a child's. It 
 established his position at once. Lord Lynne 
 had been wondering what that position was to 
 be, and he had decided to let Jan's unconscious 
 behavior settle it. Even an animal, or a bird, 
 that trusts us, wins us. The face that Jan 
 turned to Lord Lynne was just such a face as 
 he would have turned to Snorro it trusted 
 every thing, it claimed every thing, and every 
 thing was given it. 
 
 " You have had your health-sleep, Vedder; 
 I dare say you are hungry now ? " 
 
 " Very hungry," answered Jan. " Is it 
 breakfast time?" 
 
 "You mean is it lunch time? You will have 
 to put two meals into one. Shall I order you 
 some fresh fish, and eggs, and a broiled bird ? " 
 
IAN A T HIS POST. 169 
 
 " The thought of them is good." 
 " And some roast mutton and potatoes?" 
 "Yes, and plenty of tea if thou pleases." 
 My lord had his lunch while Jan ate his 
 breakfast, and a very pleasant meal they made 
 of it. The yacht was tossing and pitching a 
 good deal, but they were leaving the islands 
 behind and sailing fast toward smoother waters 
 and brighter skies. Jan improved with every 
 hour's flight, and he would gladly have left his 
 berth had Lord Lynne permitted it. 
 
 " At Aberdeen," he said, " you shall go on 
 shore, and see a physician. Dr. Balloch thinks 
 that he has treated you properly, but I promised 
 him to make sure of it." 
 
 The decision at Aberdeen was highly favor- 
 able. Jan was assured that he might be on 
 deck a few hours every day, with great advan- 
 tage to his health. They remained in Aberdeen 
 two days. On the second day a trunk bearing 
 his name was brought on board. Lord Lynne 
 was on shore at the time, but his valet had it 
 taken to Jan's room and opened. It contained 
 a quantity of linen and clothing. 
 
 Jan had a love for good clothing. He felt 
 its influence, and without reasoning about the 
 
170 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 matter, felt that it influenced every one else. 
 When he had put on the linen, and a yachting 
 suit with its gilt buttons, and had knotted the 
 handkerchief at his neck, he felt that in all 
 eyes he was a different being from Vedder the 
 fisherman. 
 
 It would have been a difficult matter to Lord 
 Lynne to have given clothing to some men, 
 but Jan had not a vulgar feeling. He made 
 no protestations, no excuses, no promises of 
 repayment ; he was not offensively demon^ 
 strative in his gratitude. He took the gift, as 
 the gift had been given, with pleasure and con- 
 fidence, and he looked handsome and noble in 
 every thing he put on. 
 
 Lord Lynne was proud of him. He liked 
 to see his crew watch Jan. He encouraged his 
 valet to tell him what they said of him. 
 Every one had invented some romance about 
 the yacht's visitor ; no one supposed him to be 
 of less than noble birth. The cook had a 
 theory that he was some prince who had got 
 into trouble with his father. The secrecy with 
 which he had been brought on board at mid- 
 night, his scarcely healed wound, the disguise 
 of a fisherman's dress, were all regeirded as 
 
JAN AT HIS POST. 171 
 
 positive proofs of some singular and romantic 
 adventure. On board " The Lapwing " Jan was 
 the central point of every man's interest and 
 speculations. 
 
 And at this time, even Lord Lynne was a 
 little in the dark regarding Jan. Dr. Balloch 
 had only spoken of him as a young man going 
 to ruin for want of some friends. Incidentally 
 he had alluded to his matrimonial troubles, 
 and, one evening when they were walking, he 
 had pointed out Margaret Vedder. She was 
 standing on the Troll Rock looking seaward. 
 The level rays of the setting sun fell upon her. 
 She stood, as it were, in a glory ; and Lord 
 Lynne had been much struck with her noble 
 figure and with the set melancholy of her fine 
 face. 
 
 So he knew that Jan had had trouble about 
 his wife, and also that he had been wounded in 
 a fight ; and putting the two things together he 
 made a perfectly natural inference. He Was 
 aware, also, that Margaret was Peter Fae's 
 daughter and a probable heiress. If he 
 thought of Jan's social position, he doubtless 
 considered that only a Shetland gentleman 
 would aspire to her hand. But he made no 
 
172 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 effort whatever to gain Jan's confidence ; if he 
 chose to give it, he would do so at the proper 
 time, and without it they were very happy. 
 For Lord Lynne had been a great traveler, 
 and Jan never wearied of hearing about the 
 places he had visited. With a map before him, 
 he would follow every step up and down 
 Europe. And across Asian seas, through Cana- 
 dian cities, and the great plains of the West, 
 the two men in memory and imagination went 
 together. 
 
 Nothing was said of Jan's future ; he asked 
 no questions, gave no hints, exhibited no anx- 
 iety. He took his holiday in holiday spirit, 
 and Lord Lynne understood and appreciated 
 the unselfishness and the gentlemanly feeling 
 which dictated the apparent indifference. At 
 Margate the yacht went into harbor. Lord 
 Lynne expected letters there, which he said 
 would decide his movements for the winter. 
 He was silent and anxious when he landed ; he 
 was in a mood of reckless but assumed indiffer- 
 ence when he came on board again. 
 
 After dinner he spread the large map on the 
 saloon table, and said : " Vedder, what do you 
 say to a few months' cruise in the Mediterra* 
 
JAN AT HIS POST. 173 
 
 nean ? I am not wanted at home, and I should 
 like to show you some of the places we 
 have talked about. Suppose we touch at the 
 great Spanish ports, at Genoa, Venice, Naples 
 and Rome, and then break the winter among 
 the Isles of Greece and the old Ionian cities?* 1 
 
 Jan's face beamed with delight ; there was no 
 need for him to speak. 
 
 "And," continued his lordship, "as I sleep 
 a great deal in warm climates, I shall want a 
 good sailor aboard. I saw by the way you 
 handled the yacht during that breeze in ' The 
 Wash/ that you are one. Will you be my 
 lieutenant this winter? I will pay you 100 a 
 quarter ; that will keep you in pocket money/* 
 
 "That will be a great deal of money to me, 
 and I shall be very glad to earn it so pleas- 
 antly." 
 
 " Then that settles matters for a few months 
 when we get back it will be time to buckle 
 to work. Heigh-ho ! Lieutenant, head ' The 
 Lapwing ' for the Bay of Biscay, and we will 
 set our faces toward sunshine, and cast care 
 and useless regret behind our backs." 
 
 At Gibraltar Lord Lynne evidently expected 
 letters, but they did not come. Every mail he 
 
174 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 was anxious and restless, every mail he was dis- 
 appointed. At length he seemed to relinquish 
 hope, and ' The Lapwing ' proceeded on her 
 voyage. One night they were drifting slowly 
 off the coast of Spain. The full moon shone 
 over a tranquil sea, and the wind blowing off 
 shore, filled the sails with the perfume of 
 orange blossoms. Lord Lynne had sent that 
 day a boat into Valencia, hoping for letters, 
 and had been again disappointed. As he 
 walked the deck with Jan in the moonlight, he 
 said sadly, " I feel much troubled to-night, Jan." 
 
 " Ever since we were in Gibraltar I have seen 
 that thou hast some trouble, my lord. And 
 I am sorry for thee ; my own heart is aching 
 to-night ; for that reason I can feel for thy grief 
 too/' 
 
 " I wonder what trouble could come to a man 
 hid away from life in such a quiet corner of the 
 world as Shetland ? " 
 
 " There is no corner too quiet, or too far 
 away, for a woman to make sorrow in it." 
 
 " By every thing ! You are right, Jan-" 
 
 There was a few minutes' silence, and then 
 Jan said : " Shall I tell thee what trouble came 
 to me through a woman in Shetland ? " 
 
JAN A T HIS POST. 175 
 
 " I would like to hear about it." 
 
 Then Jan began. He spoke slowly and with 
 some hesitation at first. His youth was con- 
 nected with affairs about which the Shetlanders 
 always spoke cautiously. His father had been 
 one of the boldest and most successful of the 
 men who carried on that " French trade " 
 which the English law called smuggling. He 
 had made money easily, had spent it lavishly, 
 and at the last had gone to the bottom with his 
 ship, rather than suffer her to be taken. His 
 mother had not long survived her husband, but 
 there had been money enough left to edu- 
 cate and provide for Jan until he reached man- 
 hood. 
 
 " I was ten years old when mother died/' he 
 continued, "and since then no one has really 
 loved me but Michael Snorro. I will tell thee 
 how our love began. One day I was on the 
 pier watching the loading of a boat. Snorro 
 was helping with her cargo, and the boys were 
 teasing him, because of his clumsy size and ugly 
 face. One of them took Snorro's cap off his 
 head and flung it into the water. I was angry 
 at the coward, and flung him after it, nor would 
 I let him out of the water till he brought Snor- 
 
176 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 ro's cap with him. I shall never forget the 
 look Snorro gave me that hour. Ever since we 
 have been close friends. I will tell thee now 
 how he hath repaid me for that deed." 
 
 Then Jan spoke of Margaret's return from 
 school ; of their meeting at one Fisherman's 
 Foy, and of their wedding at the next. All of 
 Peter's kindness and subsequent injustice ; all 
 of Margaret's goodness and cruelty, all of Snor- 
 ro's affection and patience he told. He made 
 nothing better nor worse. His whole life, as 
 he knew and could understand it, he laid be- 
 fore Lord Lynne. 
 
 "And so thou sees," he concluded, "how 
 little to blame and how much to blame I 
 have been. I have done wrong and I have 
 suffered. Yes, I suffer yet, for I love my wife 
 and she has cast me off. Dost thou think I 
 can ever be worthy of her?" 
 
 " I see, Jan, that what you said is true 
 in any corner of the earth where women are, 
 they can make men suffer. As to your wor- 
 thiness, I know not. There are some women 
 so good, that only the angels of heaven could 
 live with them. That 600 was a great mis- 
 take." 
 
JAN A T HIS POST. 177 
 
 "I think that now/' 
 
 "Jan, life is strangely different and yet 
 strangely alike. My experience has not been 
 so very far apart from yours. I was induced 
 to marry when only twenty-one a lady who is 
 my inferior in rank, but who is a very rich 
 ivoman. She is a few years older than I, but 
 ;he is beautiful, full of generous impulses, and 
 v^ell known for her charitable deeds/* 
 
 " You are surely fortunate/' 
 
 " I am very unhappy." 
 
 " Does she not love thee ? " 
 
 "Alas! she loves me so much that she makes 
 both her own and my life miserable." 
 
 " That is what I do not understand/' 
 
 " Her love is a great love, but it is a selfish 
 love. She is willing that I should be happy in 
 her way, but in no other. I must give her not 
 only my affection, but my will, my tastes, my 
 duties to every other creature. My friends, 
 horses, dogs, even this yacht, she regards as 
 enemies ; she is sure that every one of them 
 takes the thought and attention she ought to 
 have. And the hardest part is, that her noble 
 side only is seen by the world. I alone suffer 
 from the fault that spoils all. Consequently 
 
178 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 the world pities her, and looks upon me very 
 much as the people of, Lerwick looked on you." 
 
 " And can thou do nothing for thy own 
 side?" 
 
 " Nothing. I am in the case of a very worthy 
 old Roman lord who desired to divorce his wife. 
 There was a great outcry. All his friends were 
 amazed. ' Is she not handsome, virtuous, rich, 
 amiable?' they asked. 'What hath she done 
 to thee?' The Roman husband pointed to his 
 sandal. ' Is it not new, is it not handsome and 
 well made ? But none of you can tell where it- 
 pinches me/ That old Roman and I are broth- 
 ers. Every one praises ' my good wife, my rich 
 wife, my handsome wife,' but for all that, the 
 matrimonial shoe pinches me." 
 
 This confidence brought the two men near 
 together. Henceforward there was no lack of 
 conversation. While every other subject fails 
 a domestic grievance is always new. It can be 
 looked at in so many ways. It has touched us 
 on every side of our nature. We are never 
 quite sure where we have been right, and where 
 wrong. So Lord Lynne and Jan talked of 
 ' My Lady ' in Lynnton Castle, and of Margaret 
 Vedder in her Shetland home, but the conver- 
 
JAN A T HIS POST. 179 
 
 sations were not in the main unkind ones. Very 
 early in them Lynne told Jan how he had once 
 seen his wife standing on the Troll Rock at sun. 
 set, " lovely, and grand, and melancholy, as some 
 forsaken goddess in her desolated shrine." 
 
 They were sitting at the time among the 
 ruins of a temple to Pallas. The sun was set- 
 ting over Lydian waters, and Jan seemed to see 
 in the amber rays a vision of the tall, fair 
 woman of his love and dreams. She ruled him 
 yet. From the lonely islands of that forlorn 
 sea she called him. Not continents nor oceans 
 could sever the mystical tie between them. On 
 the sands close by, some young Greek girls were 
 dancing to a pipe. They were beautiful, and 
 the dance was picturesque, but Jan hardly 
 noticed them. The home-love was busy in his 
 heart. " Until death us part." Nothing is 
 more certain, in a life of such uncertainty. 
 
 Amid the loveliest scenes of earth they passed 
 the winter months. It was far on in May when 
 they touched Gibraltar on their return. Let- 
 ters for both were waiting there. For Jan a 
 short one from Dr. Balloch, and a long one 
 from Michael Snorro. He was sitting with 
 Snorro's in his hand when Lord Lynne, bright 
 
i8o JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and cheerful, came out of his cabin. " I have 
 very fair news, Jan ; what has the mail brought 
 you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Seldom it comes for nothing. I have heard 
 that my mother-in-law is dead. She was ever 
 my friend, and I am so much the poorer. Peter 
 Fae too is in trouble ; he is in trouble about 
 me. Wilt thou believe that the people of Ler. 
 wick think he may have " 
 
 " Murdered you ? " 
 
 "Yes, just that." 
 
 " I have often thought that the suspicion 
 would be a natural one. Has he been ar- 
 rested ? " 
 
 " No, no ; but he is in bad esteem. Some 
 speak not to him. The minister, though, he 
 stands by him/' 
 
 " That is enough. If Dr. Balloch thought it 
 necessary, he would say sufficient to keep Peter 
 Fae out of danger. A little popular disapproval 
 will do kirn good. He will understand then 
 how you felt when wife and friends looked 
 coldly on you, and suspicion whispered things to 
 injure you that no one dared to say openly. 
 Let Peter suffer a little. I am not sorry for 
 him." 
 
JAN A T HIS POST. 181 
 
 " Once he liked me, and was kind to me." 
 
 "Jan!" 
 
 "Yes, my friend." 
 
 " We are now going straight to Margate. I 
 am promised office, and shall probably be a 
 busy public man soon. It is time also that you 
 buckled down to your work. We have had our 
 holiday and grown strong in it every way 
 strong. What next ? " 
 
 "Thou speak first." 
 
 " Well, you see, Jan, men must work if they 
 would be rich, or even respectable. What work 
 have you thought of ? " 
 
 , " Only of the sea. She is my father and my 
 mother and my inheritance. Working on land, 
 I am as much out of place as a fih out of 
 water." 
 
 " I think you are right. Will you join the 
 Merchant Service, or do you think better of 
 the Royal Navy ? I have a great deal of 
 influence with the Admiralty Lords, and 1 have 
 often wished I could be a ' blue jacket ' my- 
 self." 
 
 " Above all things, I would like the Royal 
 Navy." 
 
 " Then you shall be a * blue jacket ; ' that is 
 
I #2 JAN VDDER*S WIFE. 
 
 quite settled and well settled, I am sure. But 
 every moment will take time, and it will prob- 
 ably be winter before I can get you a post on any 
 squadron likely to see active service. During 
 the interval I will leave ' The Lapwing ' in your 
 care, and you must employ the time in study- 
 ing the technical part of your profession. I 
 know an old captain in Margate who will teach 
 you all he knows, and that is all that any of 
 them know." 
 
 Jan was very grateful. The prospect was a 
 pleasant one and the actual experience of it 
 more than fulfilled all his expectations. "The 
 Lapwing" was his home and his study. For he 
 soon discovered how ignorant he was. Instruc- 
 tion in naval warfare was not all he needed. 
 Very soon the old captain was supplemented 
 by the schoolmaster. The days were too short 
 for all Jan wished to learn. He grudged the 
 ' hours that were spent in sleep. So busy was 
 he that he never noticed the lapse of time, or, 
 if he did, it was only that he might urge him- 
 self to greater efforts. 
 
 It did not trouble him that Lord L^ne 
 seldom wrote, and never came. His salary was 
 promptly paid, and Jan was one of the kind 
 
JAN A T HIS POST. 183 
 
 of men whom good fortune loves. He did 
 not worry over events. He did not keep 
 wondering what she was going to do for 
 him, or wish night and day that she would 
 make haste with the next step in his behalf. 
 He took gratefully and happily the good he 
 had, and enjoyed it to the utmost. 
 
 When a change came it was the first week in 
 November. A lovely afternoon had not 
 tempted Jan from his books. Suddenly the 
 cabin door was darkened ; he lifted his head, 
 and saw Lord Lynne regarding him with a 
 face full of pleasure. He came rapidly for- 
 ward and turned over the volumes on the table 
 with great interest. " I am glad to see these 
 books, Jan/* he said, " Arithmetic, Geography, 
 History, French very good, indeed ! And your 
 last letter delighted me. The writing was 
 excellent. Her Majesty's officers ought to be 
 educated gentlemen ; and you are now one of 
 them." 
 
 Jan looked up, with eager, inquiring face. 
 
 "Yes, sir; you are now Lieutenant Jan Ved- 
 der, of Her Majesty's Schooner Retribution. 
 You are to sail for the African coast within a 
 week. Jan, I congratulate you ! " 
 
1 84 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Jan rose and put out both hands. The action 
 was full of feeling. No words could have been 
 so eloquent. It was worth an hour of words, 
 and Lord Lynne so understood it. 
 
 " I called at the mail as I came through the 
 town, here is a letter for you. While you read 
 it I will go through the yacht." 
 
 When he returned Jan was walking anx- 
 iously about with the letter in his hand. " Has 
 bad news come with the good, Jan ? " 
 
 " I know not if it be bad or if it be good. 
 Peter Fae hath married again." 
 
 "Do you know the new wife?" 
 
 " Well I know her. She was ever a good 
 friend to me, but my wife liked her not." 
 
 " Is she young or old, pretty or otherwise ?" 
 
 " Few women are so handsome, and she has 
 not yet thirty years." 
 
 "Then it is likely Peter Fae has found a 
 master ? " 
 
 "That, too, is likely. Snorro says that he 
 hath settled on her the house in which he lives, 
 with much money beside. Perhaps now my 
 Margaret will be poor. I can not think that 
 she will live with Suneva. What then wiJl she 
 do? I wish to see her very much." 
 
JAN A T HIS POST. 185 
 
 " That you can not possibly do, Lieutenant 
 Vedder. You will be under orders in the 
 morning. To leave your post now, would be 
 desertion. I do not fear for your wife. She 
 knows very well how to look after her own 
 interests. The two women in Peter's house 
 will be Greek against Greek, and your wife will 
 certainly win some victories/* 
 
 " I would not have her suffer, my friend." 
 
 " She will not suffer. It is likely I may be 
 in Lerwick next summer ; I will see to that. 
 Have you saved any thing of your salary?" 
 
 " I have spent very little of it. I have now 
 over ^300." 
 
 " Then I advise you to send 200 to Dr. 
 Balloch for her. Tell him if help is needed to 
 give it. He will understand the wisest way in 
 which it can be offered. If it is not needed, 
 he can save it toward that 600." 
 
 " I can send 300. " 
 
 " No, you can not. Uniforms must be 
 bought, and fees must be paid, and there are 
 numerous other expenses to meet. Now you 
 must pack your clothes and books. To-morrow 
 you must be in Portsmouth ; there ' The Retrk 
 bution ' is waiting for you and for orders. The 
 
186 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 orders may arrive at any hour, and it is possible 
 you may have to sail at once.'* 
 
 The next afternoon Jan was in Portsmouth. 
 It was a wonderful thing for him to tread the 
 deck of his own ship ; a handsome, fast-sailing 
 schooner, specially built for the African block- 
 ade. She carried a heavy pivot gun and a 
 carronade, and had a crew of fifty officers and 
 men. He could scarcely believe that he was 
 to command her, even when his officers saluted 
 him. In three days he was to sail, and there 
 was much to be done in the interval. But the 
 hurry and bustle was an advantage ; he had no 
 time to feel the strangeness of his position ; 
 and men soon get accustomed to honor. On 
 the third day he filled his place with the easy 
 nonchalance of long authority. 
 
 It was fortunate for Jan that the mission on 
 which he was sent was one that stirred him to 
 the very depths of his nature. In the seclu- 
 sion and ignorance of his life in Shetland, he 
 had heard nothing of the wrongs and horrors 
 of slavery. It is doubtful if there had ever 
 come into his mind, as a distant idea, the 
 thought of a race of men who were as black as 
 he was white. Therefore when Lord Lynne 
 
JAN A T HIS POS7. 187 
 
 explained to him the cruelty and wickedness 
 of the slave traffic, Jan heard him at first with 
 amazement, then with indignation. That pas- 
 sionate love of freedom and that hatred of 
 injustice, which are at the foundation of the 
 Norse character, were touched at every point. 
 The tears of pity, the fire of vengeance, were 
 in his eyes. To chase a slaver, to punish her 
 villainous owners, to liberate her captives! 
 Jan took in the whole grand duty at once. 
 
 " I see you are pleased with your prospects, 
 Jan. Many would not be. The duty of the 
 African blockading squadron is very hard ; it is 
 not a favorite station. That fact made your 
 appointment so easy." 
 
 " Only one thing could make my prospects 
 brighter." 
 
 " What is that thing?" 
 
 " If Snorro could go with me ! How he 
 would rejoice in such work! He is so strong; 
 when he is angry, he is as strong as six men, I 
 think. Once I saw him put a sick fisherman 
 behind his back, and compel the boat crew to 
 give him his share. Yes, indeed ! They looked 
 in Snorro's face, and did what he said without 
 a word. Hq wou]d fly on these men-catchers 
 
1 88 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 like a lion. He would stamp them under his 
 feet. It is a war that would make Snorro's 
 heart glad. He would slay the foe as he would 
 pour out water, and for the weak and suffering 
 he would lay down his life. He would, 
 indeed ! " 
 
 Jan spoke rapidly, and with enthusiasm. 
 Lord Lynne looked at him with admiration, as 
 he said : " It is too late now to send for Snorro. 
 How you do love that man, Jan ! " 
 
 " Well, then, he deserves it. I would be a 
 cur if I loved him not. I love thee, too. 
 Thou saved me from myself ; thou hast given 
 to me like a prince; but as for Snorro! He 
 gave me all he had ! Thou art not grieved ? 
 Thou wilt not think me ungrateful for thy 
 goodness? " 
 
 " If you had forgotten Snorro, Jan, I would 
 not have trusted you for myself. You do right 
 to love him. When the squadron is recalled 
 he must be sent for. It is not right to part 
 you two." 
 
 " I will tell him what thou says. It will 
 make him happy. Snorro is one of those men 
 who can wait patiently." 
 
 So Jan wrote to Snorro. He took the largest 
 
JAN AT HIS POST. 189 
 
 official paper he could find, and he sealed the 
 letter with the ship's seal, sparing not the 
 sealing-wax in its office. For he knew well 
 what an effect the imposing missive would 
 have. In the hurry of his own affairs he could 
 think of such small things, for the sake of the 
 satisfaction which they would give to his 
 simple-minded friend. 
 
 But mails were long at that time of the 
 year in reaching Shetland. Jan was far down 
 the African coast when his letter came to 
 Lerwick. It was under cover to Dr. Balloch, 
 and though the day was rough and snowy the 
 good minister found his way to Peter's store. 
 He was always welcome there. Peter never 
 forgot how faithfully he stood by him when 
 the darkest suspicions kept other men away, 
 and Snorro associated his visits with news from 
 Jan. When, therefore, the minister in leaving 
 said, " Snorro thou art strong, and Hamish is 
 weak, come to-night and carry him some peats 
 into the house," Snorro's face lighted up with 
 expectation. 
 
 Undoubtedly it was a great night for Snorro. 
 When Dr. Balloch explained to him, as Lord 
 Lynne had explained to Jan, the noble neces- 
 
igo JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 sity of the African squadron, his heart Lamed 
 like fire. He could almost have shouted aloud 
 in his pity and indignation. It seemed to him 
 a glorious thing that Jan had gone. Somehow 
 his limited capacity failed to take in more than 
 the work to be done, and that Jan was to do it. 
 Minor details made no impression on him. Jan 
 to his mind was the only hero. The British 
 Government, Wilberforce, public opinion, all 
 the persons and events that had led up to 
 England's advocacy of the rights of humanity, 
 all were merged in Jan. 
 
 When he left Dr. Balloch he felt as if he 
 were walking upon air. On the moor, where 
 no one could hear him, he laughed aloud, a 
 mighty laugh, that said for Jan far more than 
 he could find words to say. He heeded not 
 the wind and the softly falling snow ; had not 
 Jan, his Jan, sailed away in her Majesty's 
 service, a deliverer and a conqueror? Suddenly 
 he felt a desire to see something relating to 
 him. If he went round by Peter's house, 
 perhaps he might see Margaret and the baby. 
 In the state of exaltation he was in, all things 
 seemed easy and natural to him. In fact the 
 slight resistance of the elements was an uncon 
 scions and natural relief. 
 
JAN A T HIS POST. 19-1 
 
 Peter's house shone brightly afar off. As he 
 approached it he saw that the sitting-room was 
 in a glow of fire and candle-light. Before he 
 reached the gate he heard the murmur of 
 voices. He had only to stand still and the 
 whole scene was before him. Peter sat in his 
 old place on the hearthstone. Around it were 
 two of Suneva's cousins, soncy, jolly wives, 
 with their knitting in their hands and their 
 husbands by their sides. They were in eager 
 and animated conversation, noisy laughs and 
 ejaculations could be distinctly heard, and 
 Suneva herself was moving busily about, set- 
 ting the table for a hot supper. Her blue silk 
 dress and gold chain, and her lace cap fluttering 
 with white ribbons, made her a pleasant woman 
 to look at. It was a happy household picture, 
 but Margaret Vedder was not in it. 
 
 Snorro waited long in hopes of seeing her; 
 waited until the smoking goose and hot pota- 
 toes, and boiling water, lemons and brandy, 
 drew every one to the white, glittering table. 
 He felt sure then that Margaret would join the 
 party, but she did not. Was it a slight to her? 
 That Margaret Vedder personally should be 
 slighted affected him not, but that Jan's wifo 
 
192 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 was neglected, that made him angry. He 
 turned away, and in turning glanced upward. 
 There was a dim light in a corner room up 
 stairs. He felt sure that there Margaret was 
 sitting, watching Jan's boy. He loitered round 
 until he heard the moving of chairs and the 
 bustle incident to the leave-taking of guests. 
 No access of light and no movement in Mar- 
 garet's room had taken place. She had made 
 no sign, and no one remembered her. But 
 never had Snorro felt so able to forgive her as 
 at that hour. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 SWEET HOME. 
 
 " On so nice a pivot turns 
 
 True wisdom ; here an inch, or there, we swerve 
 From the just balance ; by too much we sin, 
 And half our errors are but truths unpruned." 
 
 IF Margaret were neglected, it was in the 
 main her own fault ; or, at least, the fault of 
 circumstances which she would not even try to 
 control- Between her and Suneva there had 
 never been peace, and she did not even wish 
 that there should be. When they were scarcely 
 six years old, there was rivalry between them 
 as to which was the better and quicker knitter. 
 During their school days, this rivalry had found 
 many other sources from which to draw 
 strength. When Margaret consented to go to 
 Edinburgh to finish her education, she had felt 
 that in doing so she would gain a distinct 
 triumph over Suneva Torr. When she came 
 back with metropolitan dresses, and sundry 
 
194 JAN VEDDER*S WIFE. 
 
 trophies in the way of Poonah painting and 
 Berlin wool ivork, she held herself above and 
 aloof from all her old companions, and espe- 
 cially Suneva. 
 
 Her conquest of Jan Vedder, the admiration 
 and hope of all the young girls on the Island, 
 was really a victory over Suneva, to whom Jan 
 had paid particular attention before he met 
 Margaret. Suneva had been the bitterest drop 
 in all her humiliation concerning her marriage 
 troubles. In her secret heart she believed 
 Suneva had done her best to draw her old lover 
 from his quiet home to the stir and excitement 
 of her father's drinking-room. If Peter had 
 searched Shetland through, he could not have 
 found a second wife so thoroughly offensive to 
 his daughter. 
 
 And apart from these personal grievances, 
 there were pecuniary ones which touched Mar- 
 garet's keenest sensibilities. Peter Fae's house 
 had long been to her a source of pride ; and, 
 considering all things, it was admirably 
 arranged and handsomely furnished. In the 
 course of events, she naturally expected that it 
 would become her house hers and her boy's. 
 To not only lose it herself, but to have it given 
 
SWEET HOME. 195 
 
 CO Suneva without reservation, seemed to Mar- 
 garet not only a wrong but an insult. And the 
 100 a year which had been given with it, was 
 also to her mind a piece of cruel injustice. 
 She could not help reflecting that some such 
 kindness to her at her own wedding would 
 have satisfied Jan, and perhaps altered their 
 whole life. It must be admitted that her 
 mortification in being only a dependent in the 
 house which she had ruled, and regarded as 
 her own, was a natural and a bitter one. 
 
 At the last, too, the change had come upon 
 her with the suddenness of a blow from behind. 
 It is true that Peter made no secret of his 
 courtship, and equally true that the gossips of 
 the town brought very regular news of its 
 progress to Margaret. But she did not believe 
 her father would take a step involving so much 
 to them both, without speaking to her about 
 it. As soon as he did so, she had resolved to 
 ask him to prepare her own home for her 
 without delay. She had taken every care of 
 her furniture. It was in perfect order, and as 
 soon as the house had been again put into 
 cleanly shape, she could remove to it. The 
 thought of its perfect isolation, and of its 
 
1 96 JAN VEDDZR'S WIFE. 
 
 independence, began to appear desirable to her, 
 Day by day she was getting little articles ready 
 which she would need for her own housekeeping. 
 
 In the meantime the summer with all its 
 busy interests kept Peter constantly at the 
 store. When he was at home, his mind was so 
 full of " fish takes" and of "curing," that Mar- 
 garet knew that it would be both imprudent 
 and useless to name her private affairs. Per- 
 haps his extreme pre-occupation was partly 
 affected in order to avoid the discussion of 
 unpleasant matters; but if so, Margaret never 
 suspected it. She had many faults, but she 
 was honest and truthful in all her ways, and she 
 believed her father would be equally so with 
 her. When the fishing was over, Peter was 
 always a few weeks employed in counting up 
 his expenses and his gains. October and part 
 of November had been from her girlhood 
 regarded as a critical time ; a time when on no 
 account he was to be troubled about household 
 matters. But when November was nearly 
 over, then Margaret determined to open the 
 subject of the reported marriage to him, if he 
 did not take the initiative. 
 
 As it was getting near this time, she walked 
 
SWEET HOME. 197 
 
 over one afternoon to her old home, in order to 
 ascertain its condition. Never, since she so 
 foolishly abandoned it, had she been near the 
 place. Its mournful, desolate aspect shocked 
 her. Peter had never been able to rent it. 
 There was an idea that it belonged to Margaret 
 and was " unlucky." The gate had fallen from 
 the rusted hinges. Passing boys had mali- 
 ciously broken the windows, and the storms of 
 two winters had drifted through the empty 
 rooms. Timber is scarce and dear in Shetland, 
 and all the conveniences for her animals and 
 fowls had been gradually plundered and carried 
 off. Margaret looked with dismay at the 
 place, and, as she went through the silent 
 rooms, could not help a low cry of real heart 
 pain. In them it was impossible to forget Jan, 
 the gay, kind-hearted husband, who had once 
 made all their echoes ring to his voice and 
 tread. 
 
 Never had the sense of her real widowhood 
 seemed so strong and so pitiful. But in spite 
 of its dreariness, the house attracted her. 
 There, better than in any other place, she could 
 rear her son, and devote her life to memories at 
 once so bitter and so sweet. She determined 
 
198 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 to speak that very night, unless her fath.* were 
 unusually cross or thoughtful. Christmas was 
 a favorite date for weddings, and it was very 
 probable that Suneva would choose that time 
 for her own. If so, there would be barely time 
 to prepare the old home. 
 
 She set Peter's tea-table with unusual care ; 
 she made him the cream-cakes that he liked 
 so well, and saw that every thing was bright and 
 comfortable, and in accord with his peculiar 
 fancies. But Peter did not come home to tea, 
 and after waiting an hour, she put the service 
 away. It had become a very common disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Peter said something in a general way about 
 business, but Margaret was well aware, that 
 when he did not come home until ten o'clock, 
 he had taken tea with the Torrs, and spent the 
 evening with Suneva. 
 
 This night she had a very heavy heart. 
 Three times within the past week Peter had 
 been late. Things were evidently coming to a 
 crisis, and she felt the necessity of prompt 
 movement in her own interests. She put the 
 child to sleep, and sat down to wait for her 
 father's arrival. About eight o'clock she heard 
 
SWEET HOME. 199 
 
 his voice and step, and before she could rise 
 and go with a candle to the door, Peter and 
 Suneva entered together. 
 
 There was something in their manner that 
 surprised her; the more so, that Suneva imme- 
 diately began to take off her bonnet and cloak, 
 and make herself quite at home. Margaret 
 saw then that she wore a rich silk dress and 
 many gold ornaments, and that her father also 
 wore his Sunday suit. The truth flashed upon 
 her in a moment. There was no need for Peter 
 to say 
 
 " Suneva and I have just been married, Mar- 
 garet. Suppose thou make us a cup of tea." 
 
 At that hour, and under such circumstances, 
 nothing could have induced her to obey the 
 request. Never before had she disobeyed her 
 father, and it gave her a shock to do it, but all 
 the same she enjoyed the sensation. Make tea 
 for Suneva ! For the woman who had sup- 
 planted her in her father's affection, and in all 
 her rights ! She felt that she would rather take 
 her child, and walk out with it upon the dark 
 and desolate moor. 
 
 But she was slow of speech, and in her anger 
 and amazement she could find no word to 
 
aoo JAN VENDER'S WIFE. 
 
 interpret her emotion. One long, steady look 
 she gave her father a look which Peter never 
 forgot then, haughtily as a discrowned queen, 
 but with a face as white as snow, she left the 
 room. Suneva laughed, but it was not an ill- 
 natured laugh. " It would have been better 
 had we told her, Peter/' she said. " If I had 
 been thy daughter, I should not have liked 
 thee to bring home a wife without a word 
 about it." 
 
 " It will be an ill day with Peter Fae when 
 he asks his women what he shall do, or how he 
 shall do it. Yes, indeed ! " 
 
 Suneva looked queerly at him. She did not 
 speak a word, but her dancing, gleaming eyes 
 said very plainly that such an " ill day" might 
 be coming even for Peter Fae. 
 
 Then she set herself to making the tea he 
 had asked for. There were the cakes Margaret 
 had baked, and sweets, and cold meat, and all 
 kinds of spirits at hand ; and very soon Mar- 
 garet heard the pleasant clatter of china, and 
 the hum of subdued but constant conversation, 
 broken at intervals by Suneva's shrill rippling 
 laugh. Margaret made up her mind that hour, 
 that however short or long her stay might be 
 
5 WEE T HOME. 2O1 
 
 in Suneva's house, she would never again lift a 
 finger in its ordering. 
 
 In the morning she remained in her own 
 room until her father had gone to the store. 
 When she went down stairs, she found the 
 servants, her servants, eagerly waiting upon 
 Suneva, who was examining her new posses- 
 sions. As she entered the room, Suneva turned 
 with a piece of the best china in her hand, and 
 said, " Oh, it is thee ! Good morning, Margaret." 
 Then in a moment Margaret's dour, sulky 
 temper dominated her ; she looked at Suneva, 
 but answered her not one word. 
 
 No two women could have been more unlike 
 each other. Margaret, dressed in a plain black 
 gown, was white and sorrowful. Suneva, in a 
 scarlet merino, carefully turned back over a 
 short quilted petticoat that gave pleasant 
 glimpses of her trim latched shoes and white 
 stockings, had a face and manner bright and 
 busy and thoroughly happy. Margaret's dumb 
 ,anger did not seem to affect her. She went on 
 with her work, ordering, cleaning, rearranging, 
 sending one servant here and another there, 
 and took no more notice of the pale, sullen 
 woman on the hearth, than if she had not 
 existed. 
 
202 JAN VEDDER S WIFE. 
 
 However, when Margaret brought the child 
 down stairs, she made an effort at conciliation. 
 " What a beautiful boy ! " she exclaimed. 
 " How like poor Jan ! What dost thou call 
 him ? " And she flipped her fingers, and 
 chirruped to the child, and really longed to take 
 him in her arms and kiss him. 
 
 But to Margaret the exclamation gave fresh 
 pain and offense. " What had Suneva to do 
 with Jan ? And what right had she to pity 
 him, and to say ( poor Jan ! ' She did not 
 understand that very often a clumsy good 
 nature says the very thing it ought to avoid. 
 So she regarded the words as a fresh offense, 
 and drew her child closer to her, as if she were 
 afraid even it would be taken from her. 
 
 It was snowing lightly, and the air was moist 
 with a raw wind from the north-east. Yet Mar- 
 garet dressed herself and her child to go out. 
 At the door Suneva spoke again. " If thou 
 wants to go abroad, go ; but leave the child 
 with me. I will take care of him, and it is 
 damp and cold, as thou seest." 
 
 She might as well have spoken to the wind. 
 Margaret never delayed a moment for the 
 request ; and Suneva stood looking after her 
 
S WEE T HOME. 203 
 
 with a singular gleam of pity and anger in her 
 eyes. There was also a kind of admiration for 
 the tall, handsome woman who in her perfect 
 health and strength bore so easily the burden 
 of her child. She held him firmly on her left 
 arm, and his little hand clasped her neck behind, 
 as with perfect grace she carried him, scarcely 
 conscious of his weight, especially when he 
 nestled his face against her own. 
 
 She went directly to her father's store. It 
 was nearly noon when she arrived there, and it 
 was empty. Only Snorro stood beside the great 
 peat fire. He saw Margaret enter, and he 
 placed a chair for her in the warmest corner. 
 Then he said, " Give me little Jan, and I will 
 hold him for thee." She put the boy in his 
 arms and watched him a moment as he shook 
 the snow from his cap and coat ; then she said : 
 " Tell my father I want to speak to him." 
 
 Peter came somewhat reluctantly. He knew 
 the conversation had to be gone through, but 
 he felt as if Margaret had him at a disadvan- 
 tage in the store. Snorro was present, and 
 strangers might at any moment come in, and 
 hurry him into an unwise concession. He 
 was angry at Margaret, also, for her behav- 
 
204 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 ior on the previous night, and it was not in any 
 amiable mood he approached her. 
 
 " Father, wilt thou have my house put in 
 order for me? I want to go back to it." 
 
 "Yes, I will; soon." 
 
 " How soon, then?" 
 
 " I can not be hurried. There is no glass left 
 in it, and there are many things to repair 
 besides. It will take time and money, a good 
 deal of money, more than I can well afford at 
 present. I have had many expenses lately." 
 
 " Dost thou then mean that I must live with 
 Suneva ? No, I will not do that. I will go into 
 the house without windows. Snorro will patch 
 up the best ones, and board up the others." 
 
 " Snorro! Snorro, indeed ! When was Snorro 
 thy servant? As for Suneva, she is as good as 
 thou art. Am I made of money to keep two 
 houses going?" 
 
 " I will not ask thee for a penny." 
 
 " Thou wilt make a martyr of thyself, and set 
 the town talking of me and of Suneva. No, 
 thou shalt not do such a thing. Go home and 
 behave thyself, and no one will say wrong to 
 thee." 
 
 " I will not live with Suneva. If thou wilt 
 
SWEET HOME. 205 
 
 not make a house habitable for me, then I will 
 hire a man to do it." 
 
 " Thou wilt not dare. When it seems right 
 to me, I will do it. Wait thou my time." 
 
 " I can not wait. So then I will hire John 
 Hay's empty cottage. It will do, poor as 
 it is." 
 
 " If thou dost, I will never speak to thee nor 
 to thine again. I will not give thee nor thy 
 child a shilling, whether I be living or dead." 
 
 " What shall I do ? Oh, what shall I do?" And 
 Margaret wrung her hands helplessly, and burst 
 into passionate weeping. 
 
 " 'Do ' ? Go home, and be thankful for thy 
 home. What would thou do in a Shetland 
 hut, alone, at the beginning of winter? And I 
 will not have thee come crying here. Mind 
 that ! Take thy child and go home ; go at 
 once." 
 
 " Thou might have told me ! Thou might ! 
 It was a cruel thing to take me unawares ; at 
 a moment " 
 
 " And if I had told thee, what then ? Tears 
 and complaints, and endless wants. I had no 
 mind to be tormented as thou tormented thy 
 husband." 
 
206 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 That was a needlessly cruel taunt, and Peter 
 was ashamed of it as soon as uttered. But all 
 the same he turned away in anger, and two men 
 coming in at the moment, he went with them 
 to the other end of the store. 
 
 Snorro had held 4i little Jan " during the inter- 
 view. The fresh air and the heat had over- 
 powered the child, and he had fallen asleep. 
 He lay in Snorro's arms, a beautiful, innocent 
 miniature of the man he loved so dearly. 
 Watching the sleeping face, he had seemed 
 unconscious of what passed between Peter and 
 his daughter, but in reality he had heard every 
 word. When Peter turned away he watched 
 Margaret put on her baby's cap and coat, and 
 then as she rose with it folded in her arms, he 
 said, " Let me see him again." 
 
 " Kiss him, Snorro, for thou loved his father. " 
 
 He stooped and kissed the boy, and then 
 glanced into Margaret's face. Her tears, her 
 pallor, her air of hopeless suffering went straight 
 to his heart. After all she was Jan's wife. He 
 felt a great pity for her, and perhaps Margaret 
 divined it, for she said timidly, " Snorro, can 
 thou mend the windows in the old house the 
 house where I lived with Jan?" 
 
SWEET HOME. ; 
 
 "Yes, I can/' 
 
 " Wilt thou ask my father if thou may do it ? " 
 
 " I will do it. Have thou patience, Margaret 
 Vedder. It would be a sin if thou made the 
 child suffer." 
 
 " Dost thou think I would ? Little does thou 
 know of a mother's heart." 
 
 " Snorro ! " 
 
 It was Peter calling, and calling angrily ; 
 but ere Snorro answered the summons he went 
 with Margaret to the door, and as he opened it, 
 said, " If I can help thee, for Jan's sake I am 
 on thy side." 
 
 Very hard and bitter and cold was the walk 
 homeward. The snow fell thick and fast, and 
 she was tired and faint when she reached the 
 house. Never had its warmth and comfort 
 seemed so good to her. How could she feel 
 kindly to the woman who had robbed her and 
 her child of their right in it ? Every one must 
 have noticed that when they are in trouble, the 
 weather is usually their enemy. A very long 
 and severe snow-storm followed Margaret's 
 useless effort. She had perforce to sit still, and 
 for " little Jail's " sake be grateful for the warmth 
 and shelter given her. 
 
208 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 "Little Jan" Snorro had unconsciously 
 named the child. Several attempts had been 
 made to do so, but somehow all had hitherto 
 failed. At first " Peter " had been thought of ; 
 but Peter Fae had not taken kindly to a Peter 
 Vedder, and the name after a few half-hearted 
 utterances had been dropped. Thora had 
 longed to call him " Willie, " but at her death 
 the scarcely recognized name was given up. 
 But Snorro's tender, positive "little Jan" had 
 settled the matter in Margaret's mind. Hence- 
 forward the boy was to be called by his father's 
 name, and she cared not whether it were liked 
 or not. 
 
 To Margaret the winter passed drearily away. 
 She refused to have any part inSuneva's hospi- 
 talities, though the " Fae House " became dur- 
 ing it as famous for its gayety, as it had been in 
 Thora's time for its quiet and seclusion. Suneva 
 had no idea of being the mistress of a shut up 
 house. She was proud of her large rooms and 
 fine furniture, and anxious to exhibit them. 
 Besides which, she was in her element as host- 
 ess of the cozy tea-party or the merry dance. 
 
 Fortunately for her peaceful success, Peter 
 discovered that he had the same taste. It had 
 
S WEE T HOME. 209 
 
 lain dormant and undeveloped during his 
 struggle for wealth, and in the quiet content 
 of Thora's atmosphere ; but every circumstance 
 now favored its growth, and he became quite 
 as proud of his name as a generous and splen- 
 did host, as he was of his character as a keen 
 and successful trader. 
 
 He was still a handsome man, fresh and 
 active, carrying his fifty-eight years with all the 
 dignity of conscious independence and assured 
 position. It was Suneva's great pride that she 
 had induced him to wear the fine cloth and velvet 
 and linen suitable to his wealth. She flattered 
 him into many an extravagance ; she persuaded 
 him that no one in the Islands could recite as 
 well, or dance with more activity and grace. 
 Under her influence Peter renewed his youth 
 and enjoyed it. Margaret often heard them 
 planning some entertainment, and laughing 
 over it, with all the zest of twenty years. 
 
 To her, their whole life seemed an outrage. 
 She could not imagine how her father could 
 bear to put aside so completely his old habits 
 and memories. It wounded her to see him 
 going off with a joke and a kiss to the store in 
 the morning ; and hurrying back at night, as 
 
L'io JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 eager as a boy-bridegroom for the company of 
 his handsome wife and her gay friends. It may 
 easily be understood that even if Margaret had 
 countenanced Suneva's festivities by her pres- 
 ence at them, she would have been only a silent 
 and a reproachful guest. 
 
 It is but fair to say that Suneva gave to her 
 absence the best and kindest excuse. " Poor 
 Margaret! " she said pitifully, "she weeps con- 
 stantly for her husband. Few wives are as 
 faithful/' 
 
 Suneva had indeed taken Thora's place with 
 a full determination to be just and kind to 
 Thora's daughter. She intended, now that for- 
 tune had placed her above her old rival, to 
 treat her with respect and consideration. 
 Suneva was capable of great generosities, and 
 if Margaret had had the prudence and forbear- 
 ance to accept the peace offered, she might have 
 won whatever she desired through the influence 
 of her child, for whom Suneva conceived a very 
 strong attachment. 
 
 But this was just the point which Margaret 
 defended with an almost insane jealousy. She 
 saw that little Jan clung to Suneva, that he 
 liked to be with her. that he often cried in the 
 
SWEET HOME. *.L 
 
 solitude of her room to go down stair**, where 
 he knew he would have sweetmeats, and pet- 
 ting, and company, and his own way. If ever 
 she was cross to the boy, it was on this subject. 
 She would not even be bribed by Suneva'smost 
 diplomatic services in his behalf. "Let Jan 
 come where his grandfather is, Margaret," she 
 pleaded. " It will be for his good ; I tell thee 
 it will. I have already persuaded him that the 
 boy has his eyes, and his figure, and when he 
 was in a passion the other night, and thy father 
 was like to be cross with him, I said, ' It is a 
 nice thing to see Satan correcting sin, for the 
 child has thy own quick temper, Peter/ and thy 
 father laughed and pulled little Jan to his side, 
 and gave him the lump of sugar he wanted." 
 
 "The boy is all thou hast left me. Would 
 thou take him also ? " Margaret answered with 
 angry eyes. " His mother's company is good 
 enough for him." 
 
 So all winter the hardly-admitted strife went 
 on. Suneva pitied the child. She waylaid him 
 and gave him sweetmeats and kisses. She im- 
 agined that he daily grew more pale and quiet. 
 And Margaret, suspicious and watchful, dis- 
 covered much, and imagined more. She was 
 
212 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 determined to go away from Suneva as soon as 
 the spring opened, but she had come to the 
 conclusion that she must look after her house 
 herself, for though Snorro had promised to make 
 it habitable, evidently he had been unable to 
 do so, or he would have contrived to let her 
 know. 
 
 One day in the latter part of April, all nature 
 suddenly seemed to awake. The winter was 
 nearly over. Margaret heard the larks singing in 
 the clear sunshine. Little Jan had fallen asleep 
 and might remain so for a couple of hours. 
 She put on her cloak and bonnet, and went to 
 see how far Snorro had been able to keep his 
 word. Things were much better than she had 
 hoped for. Nearly all of the windows had 
 been reglazed, the gate was hung, and the 
 accumulated drift of two years in the yard 
 cleared away. 
 
 With lighter spirits, and a firm determination 
 in her heart, she walked swiftly back to her 
 child. When she entered the door she heard 
 his merry laugh in Suneva's parlor. He was 
 standing on her knee, singing after her some 
 lines of a fisherman's " Casting Song," swaying 
 backwards and forwards, first on one foot and 
 
SWEET HOME. 213 
 
 then on the other, to the melody. Suneva was 
 so interested in the boy, that, for a moment, 
 she did not notice the pale, angry woman 
 approaching her. When she did, her first 
 thought was conciliation. " I heard him cry- 
 ing, Margaret ; and as I knew thou wert out, 
 I went for him. He is a merry little fellow, he 
 hath kept me laughing." 
 
 "Come here, Jan!" In her anger, she 
 grasped the child's arm roughly, and he cried 
 out, and clung to Suneva. 
 
 Then Margaret's temper mastered her as it 
 had never done before in her life. She struck 
 the child over and over again, and, amid its 
 cries of pain and fright, she said some words to 
 Suneva full of bitterness and contempt. 
 
 " Thee love thy child ! " cried Suneva in & 
 passion, " not thou, indeed ! Thou loves m_ 
 earthly thing but thyself. Every day the pool 
 baby suffers for thy bad temper even as his 
 father did." 
 
 " Speak thou not of his father thou, who 
 first tempted him away from his home and his 
 wife." 
 
 " When thou says such a thing as that, then 
 thou lies ; I tempted him not. I was sorry far 
 
214 JAN VEDDER' S WIFE. 
 
 him, as was every man and woman in Lerwick. 
 Poor Jan Vedder ! " 
 
 " I told thee not to speak of my husband." 
 
 " Thy husband ! " cried Suneva scornfully. 
 " Where is he ? Thou may well turn pale. 
 Good for thee is it that the Troll Rock hasn't 
 a tongue ! Thou cruel woman ! I wonder at 
 myself that I have borne with thee so long. 
 Thou ought to be made to tell what thou did 
 with Jan Vedder! " 
 
 "What art thou saying? What dost thou 
 mean? I will not listen to thee" and she 
 lifted the weeping child in her arms, and turned 
 to go. 
 
 " But at last thou shalt listen. I have spared 
 thee long enough. Where is Jan Vedder? 
 Thou knows and thou only ; and that is what 
 every one says of thee. Is he at the bottom 
 of- the Troll Rock? And who pushed him 
 over ? Answer that, Margaret Vedder ! " 
 
 Suneva, in her passion, almost shrieked out 
 these inquiries. Her anger was so violent, that 
 it silenced her opponent. But no words could 
 have interpreted the horror and anguish in 
 Margaret's face, when she realized the meaning 
 of Suneva's questions. The sudden storm 
 
SWEET HOME. 215 
 
 ended in the hill which follows recrimination. 
 Suneva sat fuming and muttering to herself ; 
 Margaret, in her room, paced up and down, the 
 very image of despairing shame and sorrow. 
 When her father returned she knew Suneva 
 would tell him all that had transpired. To face 
 them both was a trial beyond her strength. She 
 looked at her child softly sobbing on the bed 
 beside her, and her heart melted at the injustice 
 she had done him. But she felt that she must 
 take him away from Suneva, or he would be 
 stolen from her ; worse than stolen, he would 
 be made to regard her as a terror and a tyrant. 
 
 She heard the clatter of the tea-cups and the 
 hum of conversation, and knew that her father 
 was at home. As soon as he had finished his 
 tea, she would probably be summoned to his 
 presence. It had grown dark and a rain-storm 
 was coining ; nevertheless she dressed herself 
 and little Jan, and quietly went out of the 
 house. Peter and Suneva were discussing the 
 quarrel over their tea; the servants sat spin- 
 ning by the kitchen fire, doing the same. She 
 only glanced at them, and then she hastened 
 toward the town as fast as she could. 
 
 Snorro was sitting at the store-fire, a little 
 
;i6 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 pot of tea, a barley cake, and a broiled herring 
 by his side. He was thinking of Jan, and lo ! 
 a knock at the door just such a knock as Jan 
 always gave. His heart bounded with hope ; 
 before he thought of possibilities he had 
 opened it. Not Jan, but Jan's wife and child, 
 and both of them weeping. He said not a 
 word, but he took Margaret's hand and led her 
 to the fire. Her cloak and hood were dripping 
 with the rain, and he removed and shook them. 
 Then he lifted the child in his arms and gave 
 \ im some tea, and soon soothed his trouble 
 a id dried his tears. 
 
 Margaret sobbed and wept with a passion 
 that alarmed him. He had thought at first 
 that he would not interfere, but his tender 
 heart could not long endure such evident dis- 
 tress without an effort to give comfort. 
 
 "What is the matter with thee, Margaret 
 Vedder? and why art thou and thy child 
 here?" 
 
 " We have nowhere else to go to-night, 
 Snorro." Then Margaret told him everything. 
 
 He listened in silence, making no comments, 
 asking no questions, until she finished in another 
 burst of anguish, as she told him of Suneva's 
 
SWEET HOME. 217 
 
 accusation. Then he said gravely : " It is a 
 shame. Drink this cup of tea, and then we will 
 go to the minister. He only can guide the 
 boat in this storm." 
 
 " I can not go there, Snorro. I have been 
 almost rude and indifferent to him. Three 
 times he has written to me concerning my 
 duty ; many times he has talked to me about 
 it. Now he will say, ' Thou hast reaped the 
 harvest thou sowed, Margaret Vedder.' ' 
 
 " He will say no unkind word to thee. I 
 tell thee thou must go. There is none else 
 that can help thee. Go for little Jan's sake. 
 Wrap the boy up warm. Come." 
 
 She was weeping and weary, but Snorro took 
 her to the manse, carrying little Jan under his 
 own coat. Margaret shrank from an interview 
 with Dr. Balloch, but she had no need. He 
 was not a man to bruise the broken reed ; no 
 sooner did he cast his eyes upon the forlorn 
 woman than he understood something of the 
 crisis that had brought her to him for advice 
 and protection. 
 
 He took them into his cheerful parlor, and 
 sent their wet clothing to the kitchen to be 
 dried. Then he said : " Snorro, now thou go 
 
2l8 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and help Hamish to make us a good 
 It is ill facing trouble on an empty stomach. 
 And light a fire, Snorro, in the room up stairs ; 
 thou knowest which room ; for Margaret and 
 her son will have to sleep there. And after 
 that, thou stop with Hamish, for it will be 
 better so/' 
 
 There were no reproofs now on the good 
 doctor's lips. He never reminded Margaret 
 how often he had striven to win her confidence 
 and to lead her to the only source of comfort 
 for the desolate and broken-hearted. First of 
 all, he made her eat, and dry and warm herself ; 
 then he drew from her the story of her grief 
 and wrongs. 
 
 " Thou must have thy own home, Margaret* 
 that is evident," he said ; " and as for Suneva, I 
 will see to her in the morning. Thou art inno- 
 cent of thy husband's death, I will make her to 
 know that. Alas ! how many are there, who if 
 they can not wound upon proof, will upon 
 likelihood ! Now there is a room ready for 
 thee, and thou must stay here, until this matter 
 is settled for thee." 
 
 It seemed a very haven of rest to Margaret^ 
 She went to it gratefully, and very soon fell 
 
SWEET HOME. 219 
 
 into that deep slumber which in youth follows 
 great emotions. When she awoke the fire had 
 been re-built, and little Jan's bread and milk 
 stood beside it. It was a dark, dripping morn 
 ing; the rain smote the windows in suddeu 
 gusts, and the wind wailed drearily around the 
 house. But in spite of the depressing outside 
 influences, her heart was lighter than it had 
 been for many a day. She felt as those feel 
 " who have escaped ; " and she dressed and fed 
 her child with a grateful heart. 
 
 When she went down stairs she found that, 
 early as it was, the doctor had gone to her 
 father's house ; and she understood that this 
 visit was made in order to see him where con- 
 versation would not be interrupted by the 
 entrance of buyers and sellers. 
 
 Dr. Balloch found Peter sitting at breakfast 
 with Suneva, in his usual cheerful, self-com- 
 placent mood. In fact, he knew nothing of 
 Margaret's flight from his house. She rarely 
 left her boy to join the tea-table ; she never 
 appeared at the early breakfast. Her absence 
 was satisfactory to both parties, and had long- 
 ceased to call forth either protest or remark. 
 o neither of them were #\yare of the step she 
 
220 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 had taken, and the minister's early visit did not 
 connect itself with her, until he said gravely to 
 Peter,"Dost thou know where thy daughter is ? " 
 
 " She hath not left her room yet, " answered 
 Suneva ; " she sleeps late for the child's sake." 
 
 " She hath left thy house, Peter. Last night 
 I gave her and the child shelter from the* 
 
 Peter rose in a great passion : " Then she can 
 stay away from my house. Here she comes 
 back no more." 
 
 " I think that, too. It is better she should 
 not come back. But now thou must see that 
 her own home is got ready for her, and that 
 quickly." 
 
 "What home?" 
 
 " The house thou gave her at her marriage." 
 
 " I gave her no house. She had the use of 
 it. The title deeds never left my hands." 
 
 " Then more shame to thee. Did thou not 
 boast to every one, that thou had given the 
 house and the plenishing? No title deeds, 
 no lawyer's paper, can make the house more 
 Margaret Vedder's than thy own words have 
 done. Thou wilt not dare to break thy promise, 
 thou, who ate the Bread of Remembrance only 
 
SWEET HOME. 221 
 
 last Sabbath Day. Begin this very hour to put 
 the house in order, and then put the written 
 right to it in her hands. Any hour thou may 
 be called to give an account ; leave the matte,' 
 beyond disputing/' 
 
 " It will take a week to glaze and clean it. 1 ' 
 " It is glazed and cleaned. Michael Snorro 
 brought the sashes one by one to the store, and 
 glazed them, when he had done his work at 
 night. He hath also mended the plaster, and 
 kept a fire in the house to dry it ; and he hath 
 cleaned the yard and re-hung the gate. Begin 
 thou at once to move back again the furniture. 
 It never ought to have been removed, and I 
 told thee that at the time. Thou knowestalso 
 what promises thou made me, and I will see 
 that thou keep them every one, Peter Fae. 
 Yes, indeed, I will ! " 
 
 " It is too wet to move furniture." 
 " The rain will be over at the noon. Until 
 then thy men can carry peats and groceries, and 
 such store of dried meats as will be necessary." 
 " Peter/' said Suneva indignantly, " I counsel 
 thee to do nothing in a hurry/' 
 
 Dr. Balloch answered her, " I counsel thee, 
 Mistress Fae, to keep well the door of thy 
 
<!22 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 mouth. It is no light thing to make the 
 charges thou hast made against an innocent 
 woman." 
 
 " I asked her how Jan Vedder got his death ? 
 Let her tell that." 
 
 " I might ask thee how Paul Glumm got his 
 death ! Listen now, and I will show thee what 
 a great thing may come from one foul suo- 
 picion. Thou married Paul Glumm, and it is 
 well known he and thee were not always in 
 the same mind, for thou loved company and he 
 loved quiet. Then Glumm took thee to the 
 Skoolfiord, where there were none at the station 
 but thee and he. Thou knowest how thou 
 rebelled at that, and how often thou could be 
 found in thy father's house. Suddenly Glumm 
 takes a sickness, and when a doctor sees him 
 there is little hope, and after three days he dies. 
 Then thou art back at Lerwick again, quick 
 enough, and in a few weeks thou hast plenty of 
 lovers. Now, then, how easy to say, ' Glumm's 
 death was a very strange affair ! ' ' Such a 
 strong young man ! ' ' Did his wife know any 
 thing about it ? ' ' Did she send for a doctor 
 as soon as might be ? ' ' Did she give him the 
 medicine the doctor left ? ' * Was she not very 
 
SWEET HOME. 22$ 
 
 glad when she was free again ? ' Mistress Fae, 
 I say not these things were so, or were even 
 said, I am only trying to show thee how easy 
 it is out of nothing at all to make up a very 
 suspicious case. But come, Peter, there is duty 
 to be done, and I know that thou wilt do it. 
 And I am in haste about it, for it is not easy 
 for Hamish to have a woman and child at the 
 manse. Hamish has failed much lately.*' 
 " Send the woman with her child here/* 
 " No, for it is easier to avoid quarrels than to 
 mend them. Margaret shall stay at the manse 
 till her own house is ready." 
 
 So they went away together, leaving Suneva 
 crying with anger ; partly because of the min^ 
 ister*s lecture ; partly because she thought 
 Peter had not " stood up for her " as he ought 
 to have done. As for Peter, though he did not 
 think of disobeying the order given him, yet 
 he resented the interference; and he was 
 intensely angry at Margaret for having caused 
 it. When he arrived at the store, he was made 
 more so by Snorro*s attitude. He sat upon a 
 sailor's chest with his hands folded before him, 
 though the nets were to be examined and a 
 score of things to get for the fishers. 
 
*24 JAN VEDDER'S WIF&. 
 
 " Can thou find nothing for thy lazy hands 
 to do ? " he asked scornfully, " or are they 
 weary of the work thou hast been doing at 
 night ? " 
 
 " My mind is not to lift a finger for thee 
 again, Peter Fae ; and as for what I do at 
 night, that is my own affair. I robbed thee not, 
 neither of time nor gear." 
 
 " From whence came the glass, and the nails, 
 and the wood, and the hinges ? " 
 
 " I bought them with my own money. If 
 thou pays me the outlay it will be only just. 
 The work I gave freely to the wife of Jan Ved- 
 der." 
 
 " Then since thou hast mended the house, 
 thou may carry back the furniture into it." 
 
 " I will do that freely also. Thou never ought 
 to have counseled its removal ; for that reason, 
 I blame thee for all that followed it." Snorro 
 then hailed a passing fisherman, and they lifted 
 his chest in order to go away. 
 
 " What art thou taking ? " 
 
 " My own clothes, and my own books, and 
 whatever is my own. Nothing of thine." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 " For that I will come no more here/' 
 
SWEET HOME. 225 
 
 "Yes, thou wilt." 
 
 " I will come no more." 
 
 Peter was much troubled. Angry as he was, 
 grief at Snorro's defection was deeper than any 
 other feeling. For nearly twenty years he had 
 relied on him. Besides the inconvenience to 
 the business, the loss of faith was bitter. But 
 he said no more at that time. When Margaret 
 was in her home, Snorro would be easier toman- 
 age. More as a conciliatory measure with him, 
 than as kindness to his offending daughter, he 
 said, " First of all, however, take a load of tea, 
 and sugar and flour, and such things as will be 
 needed ; thou knowest them. Take what thou 
 wishes, and all thou wishes ; then, thou canst 
 <iot say evil of me." 
 
 " When did I say evil of thee, only to thy 
 face? Michael Snorro hath but one tongue. 
 It knows not how to slander or to lie. Pay me 
 my wages, and I will go, and speak to thee no 
 more." 
 
 " Do what I said and come back to me in 
 three days ; then we will settle this trouble 
 between us;" saying which, Peter went into 
 his counting house, and Snorro went to work 
 with all his will and strength to get Margaret's 
 house ready for her. 
 
226 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 But though he hired three men to help him, 
 it was the evening of the second day before she 
 could remove to it. It was a different home- 
 coming from her previous one in that dwelling. 
 Then all had been in exquisitely spotless order, 
 and Jan had turned and kissed her at the open 
 door. This night every thing was in confusion. 
 Snorro had carried all her belongings into the 
 house, but they were unpacked and unarranged. 
 Still he had done a great deal. A large fire 
 was burning, the kettle boiling on the hearth, 
 and on the little round table before it he had 
 put bread and milk and such things as would 
 be necessary for a first meal. Then, with an 
 innate delicacy he had gone away, fully under- 
 standing that at the first Margaret would wish 
 to be quite alone. 
 
 She stood a minute and looked around. 
 Then she opened the box in which her china 
 and silver were packed. In half an hour the 
 tea-table was spread. She even made a kind of 
 festival of the occasion by giving little Jan the 
 preserved fruit he loved with his bread. It 
 seemed to her as if food had never tasted so 
 good before. She was again at her own table ; 
 at her own fireside ! Her own roof covered 
 
SWEET HOME. *~1 
 
 her ! There was no one to gloom at her or 
 make her feel uncomfortable. Work, poverty, 
 all things, now seemed possible and bearable. 
 
 When Jan had chattered himself weary she 
 laid him in his cot, and sat hour after hour in 
 the dim light of the glowing peats, thinking, 
 planning, praying, whispering Jan's name to her 
 heart, feeling almost as if she were in his pres- 
 ence. When at length she rose and turned the 
 key in her own house again, she was as proud 
 and as happy as a queen who has just come 
 into her kingdom, and who lifts for the first 
 time the scepter of her authority. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 SNORRO IS WANTED. 
 
 " Now the great heart 
 Leaps to new action and appointed toil 
 With steady hope, sure faith, and sober joy." 
 
 DURING the next two years, Margaret's 
 life appeared to be monotonously without 
 incident. In reality it deepened and broadened 
 in a manner but slightly indicated by the still- 
 ness of its surface. Early in the morning 
 following her re-occupation of her own house, 
 she had two visitors, Dr. Balloch and her old 
 servant, Elga. 
 
 " Elga's husband is with the Greenland fleet," 
 said the minister ; " she is poor and lonely, and 
 wants to come back and serve thee." 
 " But I can not afford a servant." 
 " Thou can well afford it, take my word for 
 that ; besides, thou art not used to hard work, 
 nor fit for it. Also, I have something better 
 for thee to do. When thy house is in order, 
 
SNOXRO IS WANTED. 229 
 
 come to the manse and see me, then we will 
 talk of it." 
 
 So Elga quietly resumed her old duties, and 
 ere two weeks were gone the house was almost 
 in its first condition. White paint and soap 
 and water, bees'-wax and turpentine, needle 
 and thread, did wonders. On the evening of 
 the eleventh day, Margaret and Elga went 
 from attic to cellar with complete satisfaction. 
 Every thing was spotless, every thing was in 
 its old place. Jan's big cushioned chair again 
 stood on the hearth, and little Jan took posses- 
 sion of it. Many a night, weaned with play, 
 he cuddled himself up among its cushions, and 
 had there his first sleep. It is easy to imagine 
 what Margaret's thoughts were with such a 
 picture before her tender, regretful, loving 
 thoughts most surely, for the fine shawl or 
 stocking she was knitting at the time was 
 generally wet with her tears. 
 
 The day after all was in its place and settled, 
 she went to see Dr. Balloch. It was in the 
 early morning when every thing was sweet, 
 and cool and fresh. The blue-bells and daisies 
 were at her feet, the sea dimpling and spark- 
 ling in the sunshine, the herring-fleet gathering 
 
a$o JAN VE>DER*S WIFE, 
 
 in the bay. Already the quays and streets 
 were full of strangers, and many a merry 
 young fisherman with a pile of nets flung over 
 his shoulders passed her, singing and whistling 
 in the fullness of his life and hope. All of 
 them, in some way or other, reminded her of 
 Jan. One carried his nets in the same grace- 
 ful, nonchalant way ; another wore his cap at 
 the same angle ; a third was leaning against his 
 oars, just as she had seen Jan lean a hundred 
 times. 
 
 The minister sat at his open door, looking 
 seaward. His serene face was full of the peace 
 and light of holy contemplation. His right 
 hand was lovingly laid on the open Bible, 
 which occupied the small table by his side. 
 
 "Come in, Margaret/' he said pleasantly. 
 " Come in ; is all well with thee now? " 
 
 " Every thing is well. The house is in order 
 and Snorro hath promised to plant some berry 
 bushes in my garden ; he will plant them 
 to-day with the flower seeds thou gave me. 
 The snowdrops are in bloom already, and the 
 pansies show their buds among the leaves." 
 
 " Dost thou know that Snorro hath left thy 
 father?" 
 
SNOJtAO IS WANTED. 23 X 
 
 " He told me that he had taken John Hay's 
 cottage, the little stone one on the hill above 
 my house, and that in three days he would go 
 to the fishing with Matthew Vale." 
 
 " Now, then, what wilt thou do with thy 
 time? Let me tell thee, time is a very precious 
 gift of God ; so precious that he only gives it 
 to us moment by moment. He would not 
 have thee waste it." 
 
 Margaret took from her pocket a piece of 
 knitting. It was a shawl twelve yards round, 
 yet of such exquisite texture that she drew it 
 easily through a wedding ring. Beautiful it 
 was as the most beautiful lace, and the folds of 
 fine wool fell infinitely softer than any fold of 
 fine flax could do. It was a marvelous piece 
 of handiwork, and Dr. Balloch praised it 
 highly. 
 
 " I am going to send it to the Countess of 
 Zetland," she said. " I have no doubt she will 
 send me as many orders as I can fill. Each 
 shawl is worth ,7, and I can also do much 
 coarser work, which I shall sell at the Foy." 
 
 " Would thou not rather work for me than 
 for the Countess? " 
 
 " Thou knowest I would, ten thousand times 
 rather. But how can I work for thee?" 
 
232 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " What is there, Margaret, on the long tabb 
 under the window ? *' 
 
 " There is a large pile of newspapers and 
 magazines and books." 
 
 " That is so. None of these have I been 
 able to read, because my sight has failed me 
 very much lately. Yet I long to know every 
 word that is in them. Wilt thou be eyes to an 
 old man who wishes thee only well, Margaret ? 
 Come every day, when the weather and thy 
 health permits, and read to me for two hours, 
 write my letters for me, and do me a message 
 now and then, and I will cheerfully pay thee 
 50 a year/' 
 
 " I would gladly do all this without money, 
 and think the duty most honorable." 
 
 " Nay, but I will pay thee, for that will be 
 better for thee and for me." 
 
 Now all good work is good for far more than 
 appears upon its surface. The duties under- 
 taken by Margaret grew insensibly and steadily 
 in beneficence and importance. In the first 
 place, the effect upon her own character was 
 very great. It was really two hours daily 
 study of the finest kind. It was impossible 
 that the books put into her hand could be read 
 
SA r ORKO IS WANTED. 233 
 
 and discussed with a man like Dr. Balloch. 
 without mental enlargement. Equally great 
 and good was the moral effect of the com- 
 panionship. Her pen became the pen of a 
 ready writer, for the old clergyman kept up a 
 constant correspondence with his college com- 
 panions, and with various learned societies. 
 
 About three months after this alliance began, 
 the doctor said one day, " Thou shalt not read 
 to me this morning, for I want thee to carry 
 some wine and jelly to old Neill Brock, and 
 when thou art there, read to him. Here is a 
 list of the Psalms and the Epistles that will be 
 the best for him." And Margaret came back 
 from her errand with a solemnly happy light 
 upon her face. " It was a blessed hour," she 
 said, "surely he is veiy near the kingdom." 
 
 This service once begun grew by a very nat- 
 ural course of events. Margaret delighted in 
 it. The sick loved her calm, gentle ways. She 
 was patient and silent, and yet sympathetic. 
 She had that womanly taste which naturally 
 sets itself to make dainty dishes for those who 
 can not eat coarse food. In a few months the 
 sick all through the parish felt the soothing 
 touch of her soft, cool hands, and became 
 
234 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 familiar with the tones of her low, even voice, 
 as she read aloud the portions which Dr. Bal- 
 loch usually selected for every case. 
 
 And as there is no service so gratefully 
 remembered as that given in sickness, Margaret 
 Vedder gradually acquired a very sincere popu- 
 larity. It rather amazed Peter to hear such 
 remarks as the following : " Luke Thorkel is 
 better, thanks to Margaret Vedder." "John 
 Johnson can go to the fishing with an easy mind 
 now, Margaret Vedder is caring for his sick 
 wife." "The Widow Hay died last night. 
 She would have died ere this, but for Margaret 
 Vedder's care." 
 
 These outside duties made her home duties 
 sufficient to fill all her time. She had no hours 
 to spare for foolish repining, or morbid sorrow. 
 Little Jan must be taught his letters, and his 
 clothes must be made. Her garden, poultry 
 and knitting kept her hands ever busy, and 
 though her work was much of it of that silent 
 kind which leads to brooding thought, she had 
 now much of interest to fill her mind. Yet 
 still, and always, there was the haunting, under- 
 lying memory of Jan's disappearance or death, 
 keeping her life hushed and silent. To no one 
 
SWORRO fS WANTED. 235 
 
 did she speak of it, and it seemed strange to 
 her that Dr. Balloch visibly discouraged any 
 allusion to it. Sometimes she felt as if she 
 must speak to Snorro about it, but Snorro kept 
 ever a little aloof from her. She was not very 
 sure as to his friendship. 
 
 She thought this a little hard, for she had 
 given him every opportunity to understand that 
 her own animosity was dead. She permitted 
 little Jan to spend nearly all his time with him, 
 when he was not engaged in fishing, or busy on 
 the quays. And Snorro now spent much of 
 his time at home. His earnings during the 
 fishing season more than sufficed for his 
 wants. Every fine day in winter he was apt 
 to call for little Jan, and Margaret rarely refused 
 him the child's company. 
 
 And little Jan dearly loved Snorro, Snorro 
 put him in the water, and taught him how to 
 swim like a seal. Snorro made him a spear and 
 taught him how to throw it. He made him a 
 boat and taught him how to sail it. He got 
 him a pony and taught him how to ride it. 
 Once they found a baby seal whose mother had 
 been shot, and the child kept it at Snorro's 
 house. There also he had a dozen pet rabbits, 
 
23 6 JAN TEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and three Skye terriers, and a wild swan with a 
 broken wing, and many other treasures, which 
 would not have been so patiently tolerated in 
 the cleanliness and order of his own home. 
 
 So the time went pleasantly and profitably 
 by for two years. Again the spring joy was 
 over the land, and the town busy with the 
 hope of the fishing season. Snorro's plans 
 were all made, and yet he felt singularly rest- 
 less and unsettled. As he sat one evening 
 wondering at this feeling, he said to himself : 
 " It is the dreams I have had lately, or it is 
 because I think of Jan so much. Why does 
 he not write ? Oh, how I long to see him ! 
 Well, the day will come, by God's leave." 
 
 Just as this thought crossed his mind, Dr. 
 Balloch stepped across his threshold. Snorro 
 rose up with a face of almost painful anxiety. 
 He always associated a visit from the doctor 
 with news from Jan. He could scarcely articu- 
 late the inquiry, " Hast thou any news?" 
 
 " Great news for thee, Snorro. Jan is com- 
 ing home from Africa. He is broken down 
 with the fever. He wants thee. Thou must 
 go to him at once, for he hath done grand 
 work, and proved himself a hero, worthy even 
 of thv triif; oreat love 
 
SA T ORRO IS WANTED. 237 
 
 " I am ready I have been waiting for him 
 to call me. I will go this hour." 
 
 *' Be patient. Every -thing must be done 
 wisely and in order. The first thing is supper. 
 I came away without mine, so now I will eat 
 with thee. Get the tea ready ; then I will tell 
 thee all I know." 
 
 As Snorro moved about, the doctor looked 
 at his home. Every piece of furniture in it 
 vas of Snorro's own manufacture. His bed 
 was a sailor's bunk against the wall, made soft 
 with sheep-fleeces and covered with seal-skins. 
 A chair of woven rushes for little Jan, a couple 
 of stools and a table made from old packing 
 boxes, and a big hearth-rug of sheep-skins, that 
 was all. But over the fireplace hung the 
 pictured Christ, and some rude shelves were 
 filled with the books Jan had brought him. 
 On the walls, also, were harpoons and seal 
 spears, a fowling-piece, queer ribbons and 
 branches of sea weeds, curiosities given him by 
 sailors from all countries, stuffed birds and fish 
 skeletons, and a score of other things, which 
 enabled the doctor to understand what a house 
 of enchantment it must be to a boy like little 
 Jan. 
 
238 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 In a few minutes the table was set, and 
 Snorro had poured out the minister's tea, and 
 put before him a piece of bread and a slice of 
 broiled mutton. As for himself he could not 
 eat, he only looked at the doctor with eyes of 
 pathetic anxiety. 
 
 " Snorro, dost thou understand that to go to 
 Jan now is to leave, forever perhaps, thy native 
 land ? " 
 
 " Wherever Jan is, that land is best of all." 
 
 " He will be i** ^ortsmouth ere thou arrive 
 there. First, thou must sail to Wick ; there, 
 thou wilt get a boat to Leith, and at Leithtake 
 one for London. What wilt thou do in 
 London? " 
 
 " Well, then, I have a tongue in my head ; I 
 will ask my way to Portsmouth. When I am 
 there it will be easy to find Jan's ship, and then 
 Jan. What help can thou give me in the 
 matter?" 
 
 '" That I will look to. Jan hath sent thee 
 100." 
 
 Snorro's face brightened like sunrise. "I 
 am glad that he thought of me ; but I will not 
 touch the money. I have already more than 
 20. Thou shalt keep the ^100 for little 
 
 T 
 
 Ian. 
 
SNOKXO IS WANTED. 239 
 
 " Snorro, he hath also sent the 600 he took 
 from his wife, that and the interest/' 
 
 " But how? How could he do that already? " 
 
 " He has won it from the men who coin life 
 into gold ; it is mostly prize money/' 
 
 " Good luck to Jan's hands ! That is much 
 to my mind." 
 
 " I will tell thee one instance, and that will 
 make thee understand it better. Thou must 
 know that it is not -a very easy matter to block- 
 ade over three thousand miles of African coast, 
 especially as the slave ships are very swift, and 
 buoyant. Indeed the Spanish and Portuguese 
 make theirs of very small timbers and beams 
 which they screw together. When chased the 
 screws are loosened, and this process gives the 
 vessel amazing play. Their sails are low, and 
 bent broad. Jan tells me that the fore-yard of 
 a brig of one hundred and forty tons, taken by 
 ' The Retribution ' was seventy-six feet long, 
 and her ropes so beautifully racked aloft, 
 that after a cannonade of sixty shot, in 
 which upward of fifty took effect, not one sail 
 was lowered. Now thou must perceive that a 
 chase in the open sea would mostly be in favor 
 of vessels built so carefully for escape,*' 
 
340 JAN VEDDER^S WIFE. 
 
 " Why, then, do not the Government build 
 the same kind of vessels?" 
 
 " That is another matter. I will go into no 
 guesses about it. But they do not build them, 
 and therefore captures are mostly made by the 
 boats which are sent up the rivers to lie in wait 
 for the slavers putting out to sea. Sometimes 
 these boats are away for days, sometimes even 
 for weeks ; and an African river is a dreadful 
 place for British sailors, Snorro : the night air 
 is loaded with fever, the days are terrible with 
 a scorching sun." 
 
 " I can believe that ; but what of Jan ? " 
 
 " One morning Jan, with a four-oared gig, 
 chased a slave brig. They had been at the river 
 mouth all night watching for her. Thou knows, 
 Snorro, what a fine shot our Jan is. When she 
 came in sight he picked off five of her crew, and 
 compelled her to run on shore to avoid being 
 boarded. Then her crew abandoned her, in 
 order to save their own lives, and ' The Retribu- 
 tion ' hove her off. She proved to be a vessel ot 
 two hundred tons, and she carried one thousand 
 slaves. She was taken as a prize into Sierra 
 Leone, and sold, and then Jan got his share of 
 her." 
 
SNOKRO IS WANTE&. 241 
 
 " But why did not the slavers fight ? " 
 
 " Bad men are not always brave men ; and 
 sometimes they fly when no man pursues them. 
 Portuguese'slavers are proverbial cowards, yet 
 sometimes Jan did have a hard fight with the 
 villains." 
 
 " I am right glad of that." 
 
 " About a year ago, he heard of a brigantine 
 of great size and speed lying in the old Calabar 
 river with a cargo of slaves destined for Cuba. 
 She carried five eighteen-pounder guns, and a 
 crew of eighty men ; and her captain had vowed 
 vengeance upon ' The Retribution ' and upon 
 Jan, for the slavers he had already taken. Jan 
 went down to the old Calabar, but he could not 
 enter it, so he kept out of sight, waiting for the 
 slaver to put to sea. 
 
 " At length she was seen coming down the 
 river under all sail. Then ' The Retribution * 
 lowered her canvas in order to keep out of sight 
 as long as possible. When she hoisted it again, 
 the slaver in spite of her boasts endeavored to 
 escape, and then Jan, setting all the canvas his 
 schooner could carry, stood after her in chase. 
 The slaver was the faster of the two, and Jan 
 feared he would lose her ; but fortunately a calm 
 
242 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 came on and both vessels got out their sweeps. 
 Jan's vessel, being the smaller, had now the 
 advantage, and his men sent her flying through 
 the water. 
 
 < All night they kept up the chase, and the 
 next morning Jan got within range." 
 
 "Oh," cried Snorro, "if I had only been 
 there ! Why did no one tell me there was such 
 work for strong men to do ? " 
 
 " Now I will tell thee a grand thing that our 
 Jan did. Though the slaver was cutting his 
 rigging to pieces with her shot, Jan would not 
 fire till he was close enough to aim only at her 
 decks. Why, Snorro ? Because below her 
 decks there was packed in helpless misery five 
 hundred black men, besides many women and 
 little children." 
 
 " That was like Jan. He has a good 
 heart." 
 
 " But when he was close enough, he loaded his 
 guns with grape, and ordered two men to be 
 ready to lash the slaver to 'The Retribution/ 
 the moment they touched. Under cover of the 
 smoke, Jan and ten men boarded the slaver, but 
 unfortunately, the force of the collision drove 
 * The Retribution ' off, and Jan and his little 
 
SNORRO IS WANTED. 243 
 
 party found themselves opposed to the eighty 
 villains who formed the slaver's crew. 
 
 " For a moment it seemed as if they must be 
 overpowered, but a gallant little midshipman, 
 only fourteen years old, Snorro, think of that, 
 gave an instant order to get out the sweeps, 
 and almost immediately 'The Retribution/ was 
 alongside, and securely lashed to her enemy. 
 Then calling on the sailors to follow him the 
 brave little lad boarded her, and a desperate 
 hand to hand fight followed. After fifteen 
 Spaniards had been killed and near forty 
 wounded, the rest leaped below and cried for 
 quarter." 
 
 " Snorro would have given them just ten min- 
 utes to say a prayer, no more. It is a sin to be 
 merciful to the wicked, it is that ; and the kind- 
 ness done to them is unblessed, and brings forth 
 sin and trouble. I have seen it." 
 
 " What thinkest thou ? When Jan flung open 
 the hatches under which the poor slaves were 
 fastened, sixty were dead, one hundred and 
 twenty dying. During the twenty-eight hours* 
 chase and fight in that terrible climate they had 
 not been given a drop of water, and the air was 
 putrid and hot as an oven. Most of them had 
 
244 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 to be carried out in the arms of Jan's sailors. 
 There were seven babies in this hell, and thirty- 
 three children between the ages of two years 
 and seven. Many more died before Jan could 
 reach Sierra Leone with them. This is the work 
 Jan has been doing, Snorro ; almost I wish I 
 was a young man again, and had been with 
 him." 
 
 The doctor's eyes were full ; Snorro's head 
 was in his hands upon the table. When the 
 doctor ceased, he stood up quivering with 
 anger, and said, " If God would please Michael 
 Snorro, he would send him to chase and fight 
 such devils. He would give them the measure 
 they gave to others, little air and less water, 
 and a rope's end to finish them. That would 
 be good enough for them; it would that." 
 
 "Well, then, thou wilt go to Jan?" 
 
 " I must go to-morrow. How can I wait 
 longer? Is there a mail boat in the harbor?" 
 
 " It was Lord Lynne brought me the news 
 and the money. He will carry thee as far as 
 Wick. The tide serves at five o'clock to-mor 
 row morning, can thou be ready ? " 
 
 " Ay, surely. Great joy hath come to me, 
 but I can be ready to meet it." 
 
IS WANTED. 245 
 
 k< Lean on me in this matter as much as thou 
 likest ; what is there I can do for thee? " 
 
 " Wilt thou care for what I have in my house, 
 especially the picture? 
 
 " I will do that." 
 
 " Then I have but to see Margaret Vedder 
 and little Jan. I will be on 'The Lapwing/ ere 
 she lift her anchor. God bless thee for all the 
 good words thou hast said to me! " 
 
 " Snorro ! " 
 
 " What then ? " 
 
 " When thou sees Jan, say what will make 
 peace between him and Margaret.'* 
 
 Snorro's brow clouded. " I like not to 
 meddle in the matter. What must be is sure 
 to happen, whether I speak or speak not." 
 
 " But mind this it will be thy duty to speak 
 well of Margaret Vedder. The whole town do 
 that now." 
 
 " She was ever a good woman some way. 
 There is not now a name too good for her. It 
 hath become the fashion to praise Jan Vedder's 
 wife, and also to pity her. If thou heard the 
 talk, thou would think that Jan was wholly to 
 blame. For all that, I do not think she is 
 worthy of Jan. Why does she not talk to her 
 
246 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 son of his father ? Who ever saw her weep at 
 Jan's name ? I had liked her better if she had 
 wept more/' 
 
 " It is little men know of women ; their 
 smiles and their tears alike are seldom what 
 they seem. I think Margaret loves her husband 
 and mourns his loss sincerely ; but she is not a 
 woman to go into the market-place to weep. 
 Do what is right and just to her, I counsel 
 thee to do that. Now I will say ' Farewell, 
 brave Snorro.' We may not meet again, for I 
 am growing old." 
 
 " We shall anchor in the same harbor at last. 
 If thou go first, whatever sea I am on, speak 
 me on thy way, if thou can do so. ' 
 
 " Perhaps so. Who can tell ? Farewell, 
 mate." 
 
 "Farewell." 
 
 Snorro watched him across the moor, and 
 then going to a locked box, he took out of it a 
 bundle in a spotted blue handkerchief. He 
 untied it, and for a moment looked over the 
 contents. They were a bracelet set with sap- 
 phires, a ring to match it, a gold brooch, an 
 amber comb and necklace, a gold locket on a 
 chain of singular beauty, a few ribbons and lace 
 
SNOXXO IS WANTED. 247 
 
 collars, and a baby coral set with silver bells; 
 the latter had been in Jan's pocket when he 
 was shipwrecked, and it was bruised and 
 tarnished. The sight of it made Snorro's 
 eyes fill, and he hastily knotted the whole of 
 the trinkets together and went down to Mar- 
 garet's home. 
 
 It was near nine o'clock and Margaret was 
 tired and not very glad to see him coming, for 
 she feared his voice would awake little Jan who 
 was sleeping in his father's chair. Rather 
 wearily she said, " What is the matter, Snorro? 
 Is any one sick ? Speak low, for little Jan is 
 asleep, and he has been very tiresome to-night." 
 
 " Nothing much is the matter, to thee. As 
 for me, I am going away in the morning to the 
 mainland. I may not be back very soon, and 
 I want to kiss Jan, and to give thee some things 
 which belong to thee, if thou cares for them." 
 
 " What hast thou of mine ? " 
 
 " Wilt thou look then ? They are in the 
 handkerchief." 
 
 He watched her keenly, perhaps a little 
 hardly, as she untied the knot. He watched 
 the faint rose-color deepen to scarlet on her 
 face ; he saw how her hands trembled, as she 
 
248 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 laid one by one the jewels on the table, and 
 thoughtfully fingered the lace yellow with 
 neglect. But there were no tears in her 
 dropped eyes, and she could scarcely have been 
 more deliberate in her examination, if she had 
 been appraising their value. And yet, her heart 
 was burning and beating until she found it 
 impossible to speak. 
 
 Snorro's anger gathered fast. His own feel- 
 ings were in such a state of excitement, that 
 they made him unjust to a type of emotion 
 unfamiliar to him. 
 
 "Well then," he asked, sharply, " dost thou 
 want them or not ? " 
 
 "Jan bought them for me?" 
 
 " Yes, he bought them, and thou sent them 
 back to him. If thou had sent me one back, 
 I had never bought thee another. But Jan 
 Vedder was not like other men." 
 
 "We will not talk of Jan, thee and me. 
 What did thou bring these to-night for?" 
 
 " I told thee I was going to Wick, and it 
 would not be safe to leave them, nor yet to 
 take them with me. I was so foolish, also, as 
 to think that thou would now prize them for 
 Jan's sake, but I see thou art the same woman 
 
SNORRO IS WANTED. 24$ 
 
 yet. Give them to me, I will take them to the 
 minister." 
 
 " Leave them here. I will keep them safely." 
 
 " The rattle was bought for little Jan. It 
 was in his father's pocket when he was ship- 
 wrecked." 
 
 She stood with it in her hand, gazing down 
 upon the tarnished bells, and answered not a 
 word. Snorro looked at her angrily, and then 
 stooped down, and softly kissed the sleeping 
 child. 
 
 " Good /, Margaret Vedder ! " 
 
 She had lifted the locket in the interval, and 
 was mechanically passing her fingers along the 
 chain. " It is the very pattern I wished for,'* 
 she whispered to her heart, " I remember draw- 
 ing it for him." She did not hear Snorro's 
 " good by," and he stood watching her curiously 
 a moment. 
 
 " I said 'good-by,' Margaret Vedder." 
 
 " Good-by," she answered mechanically. Her 
 whole soul was moved. She was in a maze of 
 tender, troubled thoughts, but Snorro perceived 
 nothing but her apparent interest in the jewels. 
 He could not forget his last sight of her stand- 
 ing, so apparently calm, with her eyes fixed 
 
250 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 upon the locket and chain that dangled from 
 her white hand. " She was wondering how 
 much they cost Jan," he thought bitterly ; 
 u what a cold, cruel woman she is! " 
 
 That she had not asked him about his own 
 affairs, why he left so hurriedly, how he was 
 going, for what purpose, how long he was to be 
 away, was a part of her supreme selfishness, 
 Snorro thought. He could no longer come 
 into her life, and so she cared nothing about 
 him. He wished Dr. Balloch could have seen 
 her as he did, with poor Jan's love-gifts in her 
 hands. With his heart all aflame on JanV 
 noble deeds, and his imagination almost deify- 
 ing the man, the man he loved so entirely, 
 Margaret's behavior was not only very much 
 misunderstood by Snorro, it was severely and 
 unjustly condemned. 
 
 "What did God make women for?" he 
 asked angrily, as he strode back over the moor. 
 " I hope Jan has forgotten her, for it is little 
 she thinks of him." 
 
 On reaching his home again he dressed him- 
 self in his best clothes, for he could not sleep. 
 He walked up and down the old town, and 
 over the quays, and stood a five minutes before 
 
SNORKO IS WANTED. 251 
 
 Peter Fae's store, and so beguiled the hours 
 until he could go on board " The Lapwing." 
 
 At five o'clock he saw Lord Lynne come 
 aboard, and the anchor was raised. Snorro 
 lifted his cap, and said, " Good morning, Lord 
 Lynne ; " and my lord answered cheerily, 
 *' Good morning, Snorro. With this wind we 
 shall make a quick passage to Wick." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ^NORRO AND JAN. 
 
 '* And yet when all is thought and said, 
 The heart still overrules the head ; 
 Still what we hope, we must believe, 
 And what is given us receive." 
 
 had indeed very much misjudged 
 Margaret. During her interview with him 
 she had been absorbed in one effort, that of pre- 
 serving her self-control while he was present. 
 As soon as he had gone, she fled to her own 
 room, and locking the door, she fell upon her 
 knees. Jan's last love-gifts lay on the bed 
 before her, and she bent her head over them, 
 covering them with tears and kisses. 
 
 " Oh, Jan ! Oh, my darling ! " she whispered 
 to the deaf and dumb emblems of his affection. 
 " Oh, if thou could come back to me again ! 
 Never more would I grieve thee, or frown on 
 thee ! Never should thy wishes be unattended 
 to, or thy pleasure neglected ! No one on earth, 
 
SNORKO AND JAN. 253 
 
 no one should speak evil of thee to me ! I 
 would stand by thee as I promised until death ! 
 Oh, miserable, unworthy wife that I have been! 
 What shall I do? If now thou knew at last 
 how dearly Margaret loves thee, and how bit- 
 terly she repents her blindness and her 
 cruelty! " 
 
 So she mourned in half-articulate sobbing 
 words, until little Jan awoke and called her. 
 Then she laid him in her own bed and sat down 
 beside him ; quiet, but full of vague, drifting 
 thoughts that she could hardly catch, but which 
 she resolutely bent her mind to examine. Why 
 had Snorro kept these things so long, and then 
 that night suddenly brought them to her at 
 such a late hour ? What was he going away 
 for? What was that strange light upon his 
 face ? She had never seen such a look upon 
 Snorro's face before. She let these questions 
 importune her all night, but she never dared put 
 into form the suspicion which lay dormant 
 below them, that Jan had something to do with 
 it ; that Snorro had heard from Jan. 
 
 In the morning she took the trinkets with her 
 to Dr. Balloch's. She laid them before him 
 one by one, telling when, and how, they had 
 
254 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE, 
 
 been offered and refused. " All but this," she 
 said, bursting into childlike weeping, and show- 
 ing the battered, tarnished baby coral. " He 
 brought this for his child, and I would not let 
 him see the baby. Oh, can there be any mercy 
 for one so unmerciful as I was ? " 
 
 " Daughter, weep ; thy tears are gracious 
 tears. Would to God poor Jan could see thee 
 at this hour. Whatever happiness may now be 
 his lot, thy contrition would add to it, I know. 
 Go home to-day. No one is in any greater 
 trouble than thou art. Give to thyself tears 
 and prayers ; it may be that ere long God will 
 comfort thee. And as thou goes, call at 
 Snorro's house. See that the fire is out, lock 
 the door, and bring me the key when thou 
 comes to-morrow. I promised Snorro to care 
 for his property." 
 
 " Where hath Snorro gone ? " 
 
 " What did he say to thee ? " 
 
 " That he was going to Wick. But how then 
 did he go ? There was no steamer due." 
 
 "Lord Lynne took him in his yacht/' 
 
 " That is strange ! " and Margaret looked 
 steadily at Dr. Balloch. " It seems to me, that 
 Lord Lynne's yacht was at Lerwick, on that 
 night ; thou knowest." 
 
SNOKRO AND JAN. 55 
 
 " When Skager and Jan quarreled ? * 
 She bowed her head, and continued to gaze 
 inquisitively at him. 
 
 " No, thou art mistaken. On that night he 
 was far off on the Norway coast. It must havfi 
 been two weeks afterward, when he was in 
 Lerwick. 
 
 "When will Lord Lynne be here again?" 
 " I know not ; perhaps in a few wefcks, per. 
 haps not until the end of summer. He may 
 not come again this year. He is more uMcer* 
 tain than the weather." 
 
 Margaret sighed, and gathering her treasures 
 together she went away. As she had be;:n 
 desired, she called at Snorro's house. The ky 
 was on the outside of the door, she turned ft, 
 and went in. The fire had been carefully ex> 
 tinguished, and the books and simple treasures 
 he valued locked up in his wooden chest. It 
 had evidently been quite filled with these, for 
 his clothes hung against the wall of an inner 
 apartment. Before these clothes Margaret 
 stood in a kind of amazement. She was very 
 slow of thought, but gradually certain facts in 
 relation to them fixed themselves in her mind 
 with a conviction which no reasoning couJd 
 change. 
 
256 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Snorro had gone away in his best clothes; his 
 fishing suit and his working suit he had left 
 behind. It was clear, then, that he had not gone 
 to the Wick fisheries ; equally clear that he had 
 not gone away with any purpose of following 
 his occupation in loading and unloading ves- 
 sels. Why had he gone then ? Margaret was 
 sure that he had no friends beyond the Shet- 
 lands. Who was there in all the world that 
 could tempt Snorro from the little home he 
 had ; made and loved ; and who, or what could 
 induce him to leave little Jan ? 
 
 Only Jans father ! 
 
 She came to this conclusion at last with a 
 clearness and rapidity that almost frightened 
 her. Her cheeks burned, her heart beat wildly, 
 and then a kind of anger took possession of 
 her. If Snorro knew any thing, Dr. Balloch 
 did also. Why was she kept in anxiety and 
 uncertainty ? " I will be very quiet and watch," 
 she thought, " and when Lord Lynne comes 
 again, I will follow him into the manse, and ask 
 him where my husband is." 
 
 As she took a final look at Snorro's belong- 
 ings, she thought pitifully, " How little he has! 
 And yet who was so good and helpful to every 
 
- SNORKO AND JAN. , 257 
 
 one? I might have taken more interest in his 
 housekeeping ! How many little things I could 
 easily have added to his comforts ! What a 
 selfish woman I must be ! Little wonder that 
 he despised me!" And she determined that 
 hour to make Jan's friend her friend when he 
 came back, and to look better after his house- 
 hold pleasures and needs. 
 
 She had plenty now to think about, and she 
 was on the alert morning, noon, and night ; but 
 nothing further transpired to feed her hope for 
 nearly a month. The fishing season was then 
 in full business, and Peter Fae, as usual, full of 
 its cares. There had been no formal reconcili- 
 ation between Margaret and her father and 
 stepmother, and there was no social intercourse 
 between the houses, but still they were on 
 apparent terms of friendship with each other. 
 The anger and ill-will had gradually worn away, 
 and both Peter andSuneva looked with respect 
 upon a woman so much in the minister's favor 
 and company. Peter sent her frequent presents 
 from the store, and really looked upon his 
 handsome little grandson with longing and pride. 
 When he was a few years older he intended -to* 
 propose to pay for his education. a We'll send 
 
VEDDER*S WIFE* 
 
 him to Edinburgh, Suneva," he frequently said, 
 " and we will grudge nothing that is for his 
 welfare." 
 
 And Suneva, who had carefully fostered this 
 scheme, would reply, " That is what I have 
 always said, Peter. It is a poor family that has 
 not one gentleman in it, and, please God and 
 thy pocket-book, we will make a gentleman and 
 a minister of our little Jan ; " and the thought 
 of his grandson filling a pulpit satisfied Peter's 
 highest ambition. 
 
 So, though there had been no visiting between 
 the two houses, there were frequent tokens of 
 courtesy and good-will, and Margaret, passing 
 through the town, and seeing her father at his 
 shop-door, stopped to speak to him. 
 
 " Where hast thou been, and where is thy 
 boy?" he asked. 
 
 " He is at home with Elga. I have been to 
 read with Mary Venn ; she is failing fast, and 
 not long for this life." 
 
 As they spoke Tulloch approached, and, with 
 a cold bow to Peter, turned to Margaret and 
 said, " I will walk with thee, Mistress Vedder, 
 as I have some business matter to speak of." 
 Then, after they had turned to Margaret's 
 
SNORRO AND JAN. 259 
 
 home : " It was about the interest of the seven 
 hundred pounds placed to thy credit a few days 
 since. I will count the interest from the first 
 of the month." 
 
 Margaret was completely amazed. " Seven 
 hundred pounds ! " she said, in a low trembling 
 voice. "I know nothing about it. Surely thou 
 art dreaming. Who brought it to thee? " 
 
 " Dr. Balloch. He said it was conscience 
 money and not to be talked about. I suppose 
 thy father sent it, for it is well known that he 
 made his will a few days ago." 
 
 Margaret, however, did not believe that it 
 was her father. She was sure Jan had sent the 
 money. It was her 600, with ;ioo for interest. 
 And oh, how it pained her ! Somewhere on 
 earth Jan was alive, and he would neither come 
 to her, nor write to her. He sent her gold 
 instead of love, as if gold were all she wanted. 
 He could scarcely have contrived a more cruel 
 revenge, she thought. For once she absolutely 
 hated money; but it put into her mind a pur- 
 pose which would not leave it. If Snorro could 
 find Jan, she could. The money Jan had sent 
 she would use for that purpose. 
 
 She was cautious and suspicious by nature. 
 
260 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and she determined to keep her intention close 
 in her own heart. All summer she watched 
 anxiously for the return of "The Lapwing/' but 
 it came not. One day, in the latter part of 
 August, Dr. Balloch asked her to answer for 
 him a letter which he had received from Lord 
 Lynne. She noted the address carefully. It ' 
 was in Hyde Park, London. Very well, she 
 would go to London. Perhaps she would be 
 nearer to Jan if she did. 
 
 She had now nearly ji,ooo of her own. If 
 she spent every farthing of it in the search and 
 failed, she yet felt that she would be happier 
 for having made the effort. The scheme took 
 entire possession of her, and the difficulties in 
 the way of its accomplishment only made her 
 more stubbornly determined. The first, was 
 that of reaching the mainland without encount- 
 ering opposition. She was sure that both her 
 father and Dr. Balloch would endeavor to dis, 
 suade her ; she feared they would influence her 
 against her heart and judgment. After August, 
 the mail boats would be irregular and infre- 
 quent ; there was really not a day to be lost. 
 
 In the morning she went to see Tulloch. He 
 was eating his breakfast and he was not at all 
 
SNORRO AND JAN. 261 
 
 astonished to see her. He thought she had 
 come to talk to him about the investment of 
 her money. 
 
 " Good morning, Mistress Vedder ! Thou 
 hast been much on my mind, thou and thy 
 money, and no doubt it is a matter of some 
 consequence what thou will do with it." 
 
 "I am come to speak to thee as a friend, in 
 whom I may confide a secret. Wilt thou hear, 
 and keep it, and give me good advice ? " 
 
 " I do not like to have to do with women's 
 secrets, but thou art a woman by thyself. Tell 
 me all, then, but do not make more of the mat- 
 ter than it is worth/' 
 > 
 
 "When Jan Vedder had no other friend, 
 thou stood by him." 
 
 " What then ? Jan was a good man. I say 
 that yet, and I say it to thy face, Margaret Ved- 
 der. I think, too, that he had many wrongs." 
 
 " I think that too, and I shall be a miserable 
 woman until I have found Jan, and can tell him 
 to his face how sorry I am. So then, I am 
 going away to find him." 
 
 " What art thou talking of ? Poor Jan is 
 dead. I am sure that is so." 
 
 " I am sure it is not so. Now let me tell 
 
a6a JAN VEDDER*S WIFE, 
 
 all." Then she went over the circumstances 
 which had fed her convictions, with a clearness 
 and certainty which brought conviction to 
 Tulloch's mind also. 
 
 " I am sure thou are right," he answered 
 gravely, " and I have nothing at all to say 
 against thy plan. It is a very good plan if it 
 has good management. Now, then, where will 
 thou go first ? " 
 
 " I have Lord Lynne's address in London. 
 I will go first of all to him. Jan sent me that 
 money, I am sure. It must have been a person 
 of wealth and power who helped him to make 
 such a sum, or he must have lent Jan the 
 money. I think this person was Lord 
 Lynne." 
 
 " I think that too. Now about thy money ? " 
 
 " I will take it with me. Money in the pocket 
 is a ready friend." 
 
 " No, it will be a great care to thee. The 
 best plan for thee is this : take fifty pounds in thy 
 pocket, and I will give thee a letter of credit 
 for the balance on a banking firm in London. 
 I will also write to them, and then, if thou wants 
 advice on any matter, or a friend in any case, 
 there they will be to help thee." 
 
SNOKXO AND JAN. ** J 
 
 " That is good. I will leave also with thee 
 twenty-five pounds for Elga. Thou art to pay 
 her five shillings every week. She will care for 
 my house until I return." 
 
 "And thy child?" 
 
 " I will take him with me. If Jan is hard to 
 me, he may forgive me for the child's sake." 
 
 "Build not thy hopes too high. Jan had a 
 great heart, but men are men, and not God. 
 Jan may have forgotten thee." 
 
 " I have deserved to be forgotten." 
 * He may not desire to live with thee any 
 more." 
 
 " If he will only listen to me while I say, ' I 
 am sorry with all my heart, Jan ; ' if he will 
 only forgive my unkindness to him, I shall count 
 the journey well made, though I go to the ends 
 of the earth to see him." 
 
 'God go with thee, and make all thy plans 
 to prosper. Here is the table of the mail boats. 
 One leaves next Saturday morning at six 
 o'clock. My advice is to take it. I will send 
 on Thursday afternoon for thy trunk, and Friday 
 night I will find some stranger fisher-boy to 
 take it to the boat. Come thou to my house 
 when all is quiet, and I will see thee safely on 
 
264 
 
 board. At six in the morning, when she sails, 
 the quay will be crowded." 
 
 " I will do all this. Speak not of the matter, 
 I ask thee." 
 
 "Thou may fully trust me." 
 
 Then Margaret went home with a light heart. 
 Her way had been made very plain to her ; it 
 only now remained to bind Elga to her interest. 
 This was not hard to do. Elga promised to 
 remain for two years in charge of the house if 
 Margaret did not return before. She felt rich 
 with an allowance of five shillings a week, and 
 the knowledge that Banker Tulloch had author- 
 ity to prevent either Peter or Suneva from 
 troubling her during that time. So that it was 
 Riga's interest, even if it had not been her will, 
 to give no information which might lead to the 
 breaking up of the comfort dependent on Mar- 
 garet's absence. 
 
 Nothing interfered with Margaret's plans. 
 During the three intervening days, she went as 
 usual to Dr. Balloch's. Twice she tried to 
 introduce the subject of Snorro's singular jour, 
 ney, and each time she contrived to let the 
 minister see that she connected it in her own 
 mind with Jan. She noticed that on one of 
 
SNORRO AND JAN. 265 
 
 these occasions, the doctor gave her a long, 
 searching look, and that the expression of 
 his own face was that of extreme indecision. 
 She almost thought that he was going to tell 
 her something, but he suddenly rose and 
 changed the subject of their conversation, in 
 a very decided manner. His reticence pained 
 and silenced her, for she almost longed to 
 open her heart to him. Yet, as he gave her 
 no encouragement, she was too shy, and per- 
 haps too proud to force upon him an evidently 
 undesired confidence. She determined, how- 
 ever, to leave letters for him, and for her father, 
 stating the object of her voyage, but enter- 
 ing into no particulars about it. These letters 
 she would put in Elga's care, with orders not 
 to deliver them until Saturday night. By that 
 time Margaret Vedder hoped to be more than 
 a hundred miles beyond Lerwick. 
 
 In the meantime Snorro had reached Ports- 
 mouth, his journey thither having been unevent- 
 ful. " The Retribution " had arrived two days 
 before, and was lying in dock. At the dock 
 office a letter which Lord Lynne had given 
 him, procured an admission to visit the ship, 
 and her tall tapering masts were politely 
 
266 JAN VE ODER'S WIFE. 
 
 pointed out to him. Snorro went with rapid 
 strides toward her, for it was near sunset and 
 he knew that after the gun had been fired, 
 there would be difficulty in getting on board. 
 He soon came to the ship of his desire. Her 
 crew were at their evening mess, only two or 
 three sailors were to be seen. 
 
 Snorro paused a moment, for he was tremb- 
 ling with emotion, and as he stood he saw 
 three officers come from the cabin. They 
 grouped themselves on the quarter-deck, and 
 one of them, taller, and more splendidly dressed 
 than the others, turned, and seemed to look 
 directly at Snorro. The poor fellow stretched 
 out his arms, but his tongue was heavy, like 
 that of a man in , a dream, and though he 
 knew it was Jan, he could not call him. He 
 had received at the office, however, a permit 
 to board "The Retribution" in order to speak 
 with her commander, and he found no difficulty 
 in reaching him. 
 
 Jan was still standing near the wheel talk- 
 ing to his officers as Snorro approached. Now 
 that the moment so long watched and waited 
 for, had come, poor Snorro could hardly be- 
 lieve it, and beside, he had seen in the first 
 
StfORRO AND JAN. 267 
 
 glance at his friend, that this was a different 
 Jan somehow from the old one. It was not 
 alone his fine uniform, his sash and sword and 
 cocked hat ; Jan had acquired an air of com- 
 mand, an indisputable nobility and ease ot 
 manner, and for a moment, Snorro doubted if 
 he had done well to come into his presence un- 
 announced. 
 
 He stood with his cap in his hand waiting, 
 feeling heart-faint with anxiety. Then an officer 
 said some words to Jan, and he turned and 
 looked at Snorro. 
 
 " Snorro ! Snorro ! " 
 
 The cry was clear and glad, and the next 
 moment Jan was clasping both his old friend's 
 hands. As for Snorro, his look of devotion, 
 of admiration, of supreme happiness was enough. 
 It was touching beyond all words, and Jan felt 
 his eyes fill as he took his arm and led him 
 into his cabin. 
 
 " I am come to thee, my captain. I would 
 have come, had thou been at the end of the 
 earth." 
 
 " And we will part no more, Snorro, we two, 
 Give me thy hand on that promise." 
 
 " No more, no more, my captain." 
 
26E JAN VEDDER 'S WIFE, 
 
 " To thee, I am always ' Jan.' " 
 
 " My heart shall call thee * Jan, * but my lips 
 shall always say ' my captain/ so glad are they to 
 say it ! Shall I not sail with thee as long as we 
 two live ? " 
 
 " We are mates for life, Snorro." 
 
 Jan sent his boy for bread and meat. " Thou 
 art hungry I know," he said ; " when did thou 
 eat?** 
 
 "Not since morning. To-day I was not 
 hungry, I thought only of seeing thee again." 
 
 At first neither spoke of the subject nearest to 
 Jan's heart. There was much to tell of 
 people long known to both men, but gradually 
 the conversation became slower and more 
 earnest, and then Snorro began to talk of Peter 
 Fae and his marriage. " It hath been a good 
 thing for Peter," he said ; " he looks by ten years 
 a younger man." 
 
 u And Suneva, is she happy ? " 
 
 "Well, then, she dresses gayly, and gives 
 many fine parties, and is what she likes best of 
 all, the great lady of the town. But she hath 
 not a bad heart, and I think it was not altogether 
 her fault if thy wife was " 
 
 " If my wife was what, Snorro ? " 
 
SNOKRO AND JAN. 269 
 
 " If thy wife was unhappy in her house. The 
 swan and the kittywake can not dwell in the 
 same nest." 
 
 " What hast thou to tell me of my wife and 
 son ? " 
 
 " There is not such a boy as thy boy in all 
 Scotland. He is handsomer than thou art. 
 He is tall and strong, and lish and active as 
 a fish. He can dive and swim like a seal, he 
 can climb like a whaler's boy, he can fling a 
 spear, and ride, and run, and read ; and he was 
 beginning to write his letters on a slate when I 
 came away. Also, he was making a boat, for 
 he loves the sea, as thou loves it. Oh, I tell thee, 
 there is not another boy to marrow thy little 
 Jan." 
 
 " Is he called Jan ? " 
 
 "Yes, he is called Jan after thee." 
 
 " This is great good news, Snorro. What 
 now of my wife ? " 
 
 Snorro's voice changed, and all the light left 
 his face. He spoke slowly, but with decision. 
 " She is a very good woman. There is not 
 a better woman to be found anywhere than 
 Margaret Vedder. The minister said I was to 
 tell thee how kind she is to all who are sick 
 
270 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and in trouble, and to him she is as his right 
 hand. Yes, I will tell thee truly, that he thinks 
 she is worthy of thy love now." 
 "And what dost thou think?" 
 "I do not think she is worthy." 
 "Why dost thou not think so?" 
 " A woman may be an angel, and love thee 
 not." 
 
 " Then thou thinks she loves me not ? Why 
 Has she other lovers ? Tell me truly, Snorro." 
 " The man lives not in Lerwick who would 
 dare to speak a word of love to Margaret 
 Vedder. She walks apart from all merry- 
 making, and from all friends. As I have told 
 thee she lives in her own house, and enters 
 no other house but the manse, unless it be 
 to see some one in pain or sorrow. She is a 
 loving mother to thy son, but she loves not 
 thee. I will tell thee why I think." Then 
 Snorro recounted with accurate truthfulness his 
 last interview with Margaret. He told Jan 
 everything, for he had noted everything : her 
 dress, her attitude, her rising color, her interest 
 in the locket's chain, her indifference as to his 
 own hurried journey, its object, or its length. 
 Jan heard all in silence, but the impression 
 
SNORRO AND JAN. 271 
 
 made on him by Snorro's recital, was not what 
 Snorro expected. Jan knew Margaret's slow, 
 proud nature. He would have been astonished, 
 perhaps even a little suspicious of any exag- 
 geration of feeling, of tears, or of ejaculations. 
 Her interest in the locket chain said a great deal 
 to him. Sitting by his side, with her fair face 
 almost against his own, she had drawn the 
 pattern of the chain she wished. Evidently 
 she had remembered it ; he understood that it 
 was her emotion at the recognition which had 
 made her so silent, and so oblivious of Snorro's 
 affairs. The minister's opinion had also great 
 weight with him. Dr. Balloch knew the whole 
 story of his wrong, knew just where he had 
 failed, and where Margaret had failed. If he 
 believed a reconciliation was now possible and 
 desirable, then Jan also was sure of it. 
 
 Snorro saw the purpose in his face. Perhaps 
 he had a moment's jealous pang, but it was 
 instantly put down. He hastened to let Jan 
 feel that, even in this matter, he must always 
 be at one with him : 
 
 " Trust not to me," he said; "it is little I 
 know or understand about women, and I may 
 judge Margaret Vedder far wrong." 
 
2J2 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " I th'ink thou does, Snorro. She was never 
 one to make a great show of her grief or her 
 regrets. But I will tell thee what she did when 
 thou wert gone away. In her own room, she 
 wept over that chain the whole night long." 
 
 "That may be. When little Jan had the 
 croup she was still and calm until the boy was 
 out of danger, and then she wept until my heart 
 ached for her. Only once besides have I seen 
 her weep ; that was when Suneva accused her of 
 thy murder; then she took her baby in her 
 arms and came through the storm to me at the 
 store. Yes, she wept sorely that night." 
 
 Jan sat with tightly-drawn lips. 
 
 " If it will make thee happy, send me back to 
 Lerwick, and I will bring thy wife and child 
 safely here. Thou would be proud indeed to 
 see them. The boy is all I have told thee. His 
 mother is ten times handsomer than when thou 
 married her. She is the fairest and most beau- 
 tiful of women. When she walks down the 
 street at the minister's side, she is like no other 
 woman. Even Peter Fae is now proud that 
 she is his daughter, and he sends her of the 
 finest that comes to his hand. Shall I then go 
 for thee ? Why not go thyself ? " 
 
SNORRO AND JAN. 273 
 
 " I will think about it, Snorro. I can not go 
 myself. I received my promotion yesterday, 
 and I asked to be transferred for immediate 
 service. I may get my orders any day. If I 
 send thee, I may have to sail without thee, and 
 yet not see my wife and child. No, I will not 
 part with thee, Snorro ; thou art a certain gain, 
 and about the rest, I will think well. Now we 
 will say no more, for I am weary and weak ; my 
 head aches also, and I fear I have fever again." 
 
 The next day Jan was very ill, and it was 
 soon evident that typhoid fever of a long and 
 exhausting character had supervened on a con- 
 dition enfeebled by African malaria. For many 
 weeks he lay below the care of love or life, and 
 indeed it was August when he was able to get 
 on deck again. Then he longed for the open 
 sea, and so urged his desire, that he received an 
 immediate exchange to the ship Hydra, going 
 out to Borneo with assistance for Rajah Brooke, 
 who was waging an exterminating war against 
 the pirates of the Chinese and Indian seas. 
 
 The new ship was a very fine one, and Jan 
 was proud of his command. Snorro also had 
 been assigned to duty on her, having special 
 charge ol a fine Lancaster gun which she car- 
 
274 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 ried,.and no words could express his pride and 
 joy in his position. She was to sail on the I 5th 
 day of August, one hour after noon, and early 
 in the morning of that day, Jan went off the 
 ship alone. He went direct to the Post Office, 
 and with trembling hands, for he was still very 
 weak, he dropped into it the following letter : 
 
 MY DEAR WIFE MY FAIR DEAR MARGARET : 
 I have never ceased to love thee. Ask Dr. Bal- 
 loch to tell thee all. To-day I leave for the 
 Chinese sea. If thou wilt forgive and forget 
 the past, and take me again for thy husband, 
 have then a letter waiting for me at the Admi- 
 ralty Office, and when I return I will come to 
 Shetland for thee. Snorro is with me. He 
 hath told rne all about thy goodness, and about 
 our lictle Jan. Do what thy heart tells thee to 
 do, and nothing else. Then there will be hap- 
 piness. Thy loving husband, 
 
 JAN VEDDER. 
 
 A few hours after this letter had been posted. 
 Jan stood on his quarter deck with his face to 
 the open sea, and Snorro, in his new uniform, 
 elate with joy and pride, was issuing his first 
 orders to the quarter-master, and feeling that 
 even for him, life had really begun at last. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 
 
 I deemed thy garments, O my hope, were gray, 
 So far I viewed thee. Now the space between 
 Is passed at length ; and garmented in green 
 
 Even as in days of yore thou stand'st to-day. 
 
 Ah God ! and but for lingering dull dismay, 
 On all that road our footsteps erst had been 
 Even thus commingled, and our shadows seen 
 
 Blent on the hedgerows and the water way." 
 
 MARGARET intended leaving Saturday, 
 but on Thursday night something hap- 
 pened, the most unlooked-for thing that couloV 
 have happened to her she received Jan's letter. 
 .As she was standing beside her packed trunk, 
 she heard Elga call : 
 
 " Here has come Sandy Bane with a letter, 
 Mistress Vedder, and he will give it to none but 
 thee." 
 
 It is not always that we have presentiments. 
 
276 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 That strange intelligence, that wraith of coming 
 events, does not speak, except a prescient soul 
 listens. Margaret attached no importance to 
 the call. Dr. Balloch often sent letters, she 
 supposed Sandy was waiting for a penny fee. 
 With her usua. neatness, she put away some 
 trifles, locked her drawers, and then washed her 
 hands and face. Sandy was in no hurry either ; 
 Elga had given him a cup of tea, and a toasted 
 barley-cake, and he was telling her bits of gossip 
 about the boats and fishers. 
 
 While they were talking, Margaret entered , 
 she gave Sandy a penny, and then with that 
 vague curiosity which is stirred by the sight of 
 almost any letter, she stretched out her hand 
 for the one he had brought. The moment she 
 saw it, she understood that something wonder- 
 ful had come to her. Quick as thought she 
 took in the significance of the official blue 
 paper and the scarlet seal. In those days, officers 
 in the Admiralty used imposing stationery, and 
 Jan had felt a certain pride in giving his few 
 earnest words the sanction of his honor and 
 office. Certainly it had a great effect upon 
 Margaret, although only those very familiar 
 with her, could have detected the storm of 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 27? 
 
 anxiety and love concealed beneath her calm 
 face and her few common words. 
 
 But oh, when she stood alone with Jan's 
 loving letter in her hand, then all barriers were 
 swept away. The abandon of her slow, strong 
 nature, had in it an intensity impossible to 
 quicker and shallower affection. There was an 
 hour in which she forgot her mortality, when 
 her soul leaned and hearkened after Jan's soul, 
 till it seemed not only possible, but positive, 
 that he had heard her passionate cry of love 
 and sorrow, and answered it. In that moment 
 of intense silence which succeeds intense feel- 
 ing, she was sure Jan called her. " Margaret ! " 
 She heard the spiritual voice, soft, clear, sweeter 
 than the sweetest music, and many a soul that 
 in extremities has touched the heavenly hori- 
 zon will understand that she was not mistaken. 
 
 In an hour Tulloch sent for her trunk. 
 
 " There is no trunk to be sent now ; tell 
 Tulloch that Margaret Vedder will tell him the 
 why and the wherefore to-morrow." Elga was 
 amazed, and somewhat disappointed, but Mar- 
 garet's face astonished and subdued her, and 
 she did not dare to ask, " What then is the 
 matter ? " 
 
278 JAN VEDDER*S WIFE. 
 
 Margaret slept little that night. To the first 
 overwhelming personality of joy and sorrow, 
 there succeeded many other trains of thought. 
 It was evident that Dr. Balloch, perhaps Snorro 
 also, had known always of Jan's life and doings. 
 She thought she had been deceived by both, 
 and not kindly used. She wondered how they 
 could see her suffer, year after year, the slow 
 torture of uncertainty, and unsatisfied love and 
 repentance. She quite forgot how jealously 
 she had guarded her own feelings, how silent 
 about her husband she had been, how resentful 
 of all allusion to him. 
 
 Throughout the night Elga heard her mov- 
 ing about the house. She was restoring every 
 thing to its place again. The relief she felt in 
 this duty first revealed to her the real fear of 
 her soul at the strange world into which she 
 had resolved to go and seek her husband. She 
 had the joy of a child who had been sent a 
 message on some dark and terror-haunted way, 
 and had then been excused from the task. Even 
 as a girl the great outside world had rather terri- 
 fied than allured her. In her Edinburgh school 
 she had been homesick for the lonely, beautiful 
 isLnds, and nothing she had heard or read 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 279 
 
 since had made her wish to leave them. She 
 regarded Jan's letter, coming just at that time, 
 as a special kindness of Providence. 
 
 " Yes, and I am sure that is true/' said 
 Tulloch to her next morning. " Every one has 
 something to boast of now and then. Thou 
 canst say, t God has kept me out of the danger, 
 though doubtless He could have taken me 
 through it very safely.' And it will be much 
 to Jan's mind, when he hears that it was thy 
 will to go and seek him." 
 
 "Thou wert ever kind to Jan." 
 
 " Jan had a good heart. I thought that 
 always/* 
 
 u And thou thought right ; how glad thou 
 will be to see him ! Yes, I know thou wilt." 
 
 " I shall see Jan no more, Margaret, for I am 
 going away soon, and I shall never come back." 
 
 "Art thou sick, then?" 
 
 " So I think ; very. And I have seen one 
 who knows, and when I told him the truth, he 
 said to me, ' Set thy house in order, Tulloch, 
 for it is likely this sickness will be thy last.' 
 So come in and out as often as thou can, Mar- 
 garet, and thou tell the minister the road I am 
 traveling, for I shall look to him and thee to 
 
280 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 keep me company on it as far as we may tread 
 it together/* 
 
 It did not enter Margaret's mind to say little 
 commonplaces of negation. Her large, clear 
 eyes, solemn and tender, admitted the fact at 
 once, and she answered the lonely man's peti- 
 tion by laying her hand upon his, and saying, 
 " At this time thou lean on me like a daughter. 
 I will serve thee until the last hour." 
 
 "When thou hast heard all concerning Jan 
 from the minister, come and tell me too ; for 
 it will be a great pleasure to me to know how 
 Jan Vedder turned his trouble into good 
 fortune." 
 
 Probably Dr. Balloch had received a letter 
 from Jan also, for he looked singularly and 
 inquisitively at Margaret as she entered his 
 room. She went directly to his side, and laid 
 Jan's letter before him. He read it slowly 
 through, then raised his face and said, " Well, 
 Margaret?" 
 
 " It is not so well. Thou knew all this time 
 that Jan was alive." 
 
 " Yes, I knew it. It is likely to be so, for I-** 1 
 I mean, I was sent to save his life," 
 
 " Wilt thou tell me how ? " 
 
LITTLE f AN" S TRIUMPH. 281 
 
 "Yes, I will tell thee now. Little thou 
 thought in those days of Jan Vedder, but I will 
 show thee how God loved him ! One of his holy 
 messengers, one of his consecrated servants, 
 one of this world's nobles, were set to work to- 
 gether for Jan's salvation." Then he told her 
 all that had happened, and he read her Jan's 
 letters, and as he spoke of his great heart, and 
 his kind heart, the old man's eyes kindled, and 
 he began to walk about the room in his enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 Such a tale Margaret had never heard before. 
 Tears of pity and tears of pride washed clean 
 and clear-seeing the eyes that had too often 
 wept only for herself. " Oh, Margaret i Mar- 
 garet ! " he said, " learn this when it is God's 
 pleasure to save a man, the devil can not hinder, 
 nor a cruel wife, nor false friends, nor total 
 shipwreck, nor the murderer's knife all things 
 must work together for it." 
 
 "If God gives Jan back to me, I will love 
 and honor him with all my heart and soul. I 
 promise thee I will that." 
 
 " See thou do. It will be thy privilege and 
 thy duty." 
 
 " Oh, why did thou not tell me all this before ? 
 It would have been good for me." 
 
282 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " No, it would have been bad for thee Thou 
 has not suffered one hour longer than was nec- 
 essary. Week by week, month by month, year 
 by year, thy heart has been growing more 
 humble and tender, more just and unselfish : 
 but it was not until Snorro brought thee those 
 poor despised love-gifts of Jan's that thou wast 
 humble and tender, and just, and unselfish 
 enough to leave all and go and seek thy lost 
 husband. But I am sure it was this way the 
 very hour this gracious thought came into thy 
 heart thy captivity was turned. Now, then, 
 from thy own experience thou can understand 
 why God hides even a happy future from us. 
 If we knew surely that fame or prosperity or 
 happiness was coming, how haughty, how selfish, 
 how impatient we should be." 
 
 " I would like thee to go and tell my father 
 all." 
 
 " I will tell thee what thou must do go home 
 and tell the great news thyself." 
 
 " I cannot go into Suneva's house. Thou 
 should not ask that of me." 
 
 " In the day of thy good fortune, be gener- 
 ous. Suneva Fae has a kind heart, and I blame 
 thee much that there was trouble. Because 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPfr. 283 
 
 God has forgiven thee, go without a grudging 
 thought, and say ' Suneva, I was wrong, and 
 I am sorry for the wrong ; and I have good 
 news, and want my father and thee to share it.' " 
 
 " No ; I can not do that." 
 
 " There is no ' can ' in it. It is my will, Mar- 
 garet, that thou go. Go at once, and take 
 thy son with thee. The kind deed delayed is 
 worth very little. To-day that is thy work, 
 and we will not read or write. As for me, I 
 will loose my boat, and I will sail about the 
 bay, and round by the Troll Rock, and I will 
 think of these things only." 
 
 For a few minutes Margaret stood watching 
 him drift with the tide, his boat rocking gently, 
 and the fresh wind blowing his long white hair, 
 and carrying far out to sea the solemnly joyful 
 notes to which he was singing his morning 
 psalm. 
 
 " Bless, O my soul, the Lord thy God 
 
 and not forgetful be 
 Of all his gracious benefits 
 
 he hath bestowed on thee. 
 
 Such pity as a father 
 
 unto his children dear, 
 
284 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE, 
 
 Like pity shows the Lord to such 
 as worship him in fear. 
 
 Ps. 103. v. 2. 13.* 
 
 "Thou art a good man," said Margaret to 
 herself, as she waved her hand in farewell, and 
 turned slowly homeward. Most women would 
 have been impatient to tell the great news that 
 had come to them, but Margaret could always 
 wait. Besides, she had been ordered to go to 
 Suneva with it, and the task was not a pleasant 
 one to her. She had never been in her father's 
 house, since she left it with her son in her arms ; 
 and it was not an easy thing for a woman so 
 proud to go and say to the woman who had 
 supplanted her " I have done wrong, and I 
 am sorry for it." 
 
 Yet it did not enter her mind to disobey the 
 instructions given her ; she only wanted time to 
 consider how to perform them in the quietest, 
 and least painful manner. She took the road 
 by the sea shore, and sat down on a huge bar- 
 ricade of rocks. Generally such lonely com- 
 munion with sea and sky strengthened and 
 
 * Version allowed by the authority of the General Assembly 
 of 'he Kirk of Scotland. 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 285 
 
 calmed her; but this morning she could not 
 bring her mind into accord with it. Accident- 
 ally she dislodged a piece of rock, and it fell 
 among the millions of birds sitting on the 
 shelving precipices below her. They flickered 
 with piercing cries in circles above her head, 
 and then dropped like a shower into the ocean 
 with a noise like the hurrahing of an army. 
 Impatient and annoyed, she turned away from 
 the shore, across the undulating heathy plateau. 
 She longed to reach her own room ; perhaps in 
 its seclusion she would find the composure she 
 needed. 
 
 As she approached he*- house, she saw a 
 crowd of boys and little Jan walking proudly in 
 front of them. One was playing " Miss Flora Mc- 
 Donald's reel " on a violin, and the gay strains 
 were accompanied by finger snappings, whist- 
 ling, and occasional shouts. " There is no 
 quiet to be found anywhere, this morning," 
 thought Margaret, but her curiosity was aroused, 
 and she went toward the children. They saw 
 her coming, and with an accession of clamor 
 hastened to meet her. Little Jan carried a 
 faded, battered wreath of unrecognizable mater- 
 ials, and he walked as proudly as Pompey may 
 
286 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 have walked in a Roman triumph. When 
 Margaret saw it, she knew well what had hap- 
 pened, and she opened her arms, and held the 
 boy to her heart, and kissed him over and over, 
 and cried out, " Oh, my brave little Jan, brave 
 little Jan ! How did it happen then ? Thou 
 tell me quick." 
 
 " Hal Ragner shall tell thee, my mother ; " 
 and Hal eagerly stepped forward : 
 
 " It was last night, Mistress Vedder, we were 
 all watching for the ' Arctic Bounty ; ' but she 
 did not come, and this morning as we were 
 playing, the word was passed that she had 
 reached Peter Fae's pier. Then we all ran, but 
 thou knowest that thy Jan runs like a red deer, 
 and so he got far ahead, and leaped on board, 
 and was climbing the mast first of all. Then 
 Bor Skade, he tried to climb over him, and 
 Nichol Sinclair, he tried to hold him back, but 
 the sailors shouted, ' Bravo, little Jan Vedder ! ' 
 and the skipper he shouted ' Bravo ! ' and thy 
 father, he shouted higher than all the rest. And 
 when Jan had cut loose the prize, he was like 
 to greet for joy, and he clapped his hands, and 
 kissed Jan, and he gave him five gold sovereigns, 
 see, then, if he did not ! " And little Jan 
 
LITTLE JAWS TRIUMPH. 287 
 
 proudly put his hand in his pocket, and held 
 them out in his small soiled palm. 
 
 The feat which little Jan had accomplished 
 is one which means all to the Shetland boy 
 that his first buffalo means to the Indian 
 youth. When a whaler is in Arctic seas, the 
 sailors on the first of May make a garland of 
 such bits of ribbons, love tokens, and keep. 
 sakes, as have each a private history, and this 
 they tie to the top of the main-mast. There it 
 swings, blow high or low, in sleet and hail, 
 until the ship reaches her home-port. Then 
 it is the supreme emulation of every lad, and 
 especially of every sailor's son, to be first on 
 board and first up the mast to cut it down, and 
 the boy who does it, is the hero of the day, and 
 has won his footing on every Shetland boat. 
 
 What wonder, then, that Margaret was proud 
 and happy? What wonder that in her glow 
 of delight the thing she had been seeking was 
 made clear to her? How could she go bettet 
 to Suneva than with this crowd of happy 
 boys? If the minister thought she ought to 
 share one of her blessings with Suneva, she 
 would double her obedience, and ask her to 
 share the mother's as well as the wife's joy. 
 
288 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " One thing I wish, boys," she said happily, 
 "let us go straight to Peter Fae's house, for 
 Hal Ragner must tell Suneva Fae the good 
 news also." So, with a shout, the little com- 
 pany turned, and very soon Suneva, who was 
 busy salting some fish in the cellar of her 
 house, heard her name called by more than fifty 
 shrill voices, in fifty different keys. 
 
 She hurried up stairs, saying to herself, " It 
 will be good news, or great news that has come 
 to pass, no doubt ; for when ill-luck has the day, 
 he does not call any one like that ; he comes 
 sneaking in % Her rosy face was full of smiles 
 when she opened the door, but when she saw- 
 Margaret and Jan standing first of all, she was 
 for the moment too amazed to speak. 
 
 Margaret pointed to the wreath : " Our Jan 
 took it from the top-mast of the ' Arctic 
 Bounty ; ' " she said. '' The boys brought him 
 home to me, and I have brought him to thee, 
 Suneva. I thought thou would like it." 
 
 " Our Jan ! " In those two words Margaret 
 canceled every thing remembered against her. 
 Suneva's eyes filled, and she stretched out 
 both her hands to her step-daughter. 
 
 " Come in, Margaret ! Come in, my brave, 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 289 
 
 darling Jan ! Come in, boys, every one of 
 you ! There is cake, and wheat bread, and 
 preserved fruit enough for you all ; and I shall 
 h'nd a shilling for every Loy here, who has kept 
 Jan's triumph with him.'* And when Suneva 
 had feasted the children she brought a leather 
 pouch, and counting out 2 145., sent them 
 away, fiddling and singing, and shouting with 
 delight. 
 
 But Margaret stayed ; and the two women 
 talked their bitterness over to its very root. 
 For Suneva said : " We will leave nothing unex- 
 plained, and nothing that is doubtful. Tell me 
 the worst thou hast thought, and the worst 
 thou hast heard, and what I can not excuse, 
 that I will say, ' I am sorry for/ and thou wilt 
 forgive it, I know thou wilt." And after this 
 admission, it was easy for Margaret also to say, 
 " I am sorry ; " and when that part of the 
 matter had been settled, she added, " Now 
 then, Suneva, I have great good news to tell 
 thee." 
 
 But with the words Peter and the minister 
 entered the house, and Margaret went to Dr, 
 Balloch and said, " I have done all thou bid 
 me ; now then, thou tell my father and Suneva 
 
890 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 whatever thou told me. That is what thou art 
 come for, I know it is/' 
 
 " Yes, it is so. I was in the store when thy 
 little Jan and his companions came there with 
 the gold given them, and when the sovereigns 
 had been changed and every boy had got his 
 shilling, I said to thy father, < Come home with 
 me, for Margaret is at thy house, and great joy 
 has come to it to-day/ " 
 
 Then he told again the whole story, and read 
 aloud Jan's letters; and Peter and Suneva were 
 so amazed and interested, that they begged the 
 minister to stay all day, and talk of the subject 
 with them. And the good man cheerfully con- 
 sented, for it delighted him to see Margaret 
 and Suneva busy together, making the dinner 
 and the tea, and sharing pleasantly the house- 
 hold cares that women like to exercise for 
 those they love or respect. He looked at 
 them, and then he looked at Peter, and the 
 two men understood each other, without a 
 word. 
 
 By and by, little Jan, hungry and weary with 
 excitement, came seeking his mother, and his 
 presence added the last element of joy to the 
 reunited family. The child's eager curiosity 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 291 
 
 kept up until late the interest in the great 
 subject made known that day to Peter and 
 Suneva. For to Norsemen, slavery is the 
 greatest of all earthly ills, and Peter's eyes 
 flashed with indignation, and he spoke of 
 Snorro not only with respect, but with some- 
 thing also like a noble envy of his privileges. 
 
 " If I had twenty years less, I would man a 
 ship of mine own, and go to the African coast 
 as a privateer, I would that. What a joy I 
 should give my two hands in freeing the 
 captives, and hanging those slavers in a slack 
 rope at the yard-arm." 
 
 " Nay, Peter, thou would not be brutal." 
 " Yes, I would be a brute with brutes ; that 
 is so, my minister. Even St. James thinks as 
 I do ' He shall have judgment without mercy 
 that showeth no mercy/ That is a good way, 
 I think. I am glad Snorro hath gone to look 
 after them. I would be right glad if he had 
 Thor's hammer in his big hands." 
 " He hath a Lancaster gun, Peter." 
 " But that is not like seeing the knife redden 
 In the hand. Oh, no ! " 
 
 " Peter, we are Christians, and not heathens." 
 " I am sorry if the words grieve thee. Often 
 
292 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 I have wondered why David wrote some of 
 the hard words he did write. I wonder no 
 more. He wrote them against the men who 
 sell human life for gold. If I was Jan Vedder, 
 I would read those words every morning to my 
 men. The knife that is sharpened on the word 
 of God, cuts deep that is so." 
 
 " Jan hath done his part well, Peter, and I 
 wish that he could see us this night. It hath 
 been a day of blessing to this house, and I am 
 right happy to have been counted in it." 
 
 Then he went away, but that night Margaret 
 and her son once more slept in their old room 
 under Peter Fae's roof. It affected her to see 
 that nothing had been changed. A pair of 
 slippers she had forgotten still stood by the 
 hearthstone. Her mother's Bible had been 
 placed upon her dressing-table. The geranium 
 she had planted, was still in the window ; it 
 had been watered and cared for, and had grown 
 to be a large and luxuriant plant. She thought 
 of the last day she had occupied that room, and 
 of the many bitter hours she had spent in it, 
 and she contrasted them with the joy and the 
 hope of her return. 
 
 But when we say to ourselves, " I will be 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 293 
 
 grateful," it is very seldom the heart consents 
 to our determination ; and Margaret, exhausted 
 with emotion, was almost shocked to find that 
 she could not realize, with any degree of 
 warmth, the mercy and blessing that had come 
 to her. She was the more dissatisfied, because 
 as soon as she was alone she remembered the 
 message Tulloch had given her. It had 
 remained all day undeliveied, and quite forgot- 
 ten. " How selfish I am," she said wearily, 
 but ere she could feel sensibly any regret for 
 her fault she had fallen asleep. 
 
 In the morning it was her first thought, and 
 as soon after breakfast as possible she went to 
 Dr. Balloch's. He seemed shocked at the 
 news, and very much affected. " We have 
 been true friends for fifty years, Margaret," he 
 said; "I never thought of his being ill, of his 
 dying dying." 
 
 " He does not appear to fear death, sir." 
 
 " No, he will meet it as a good man should. 
 He knows well that death is only the veil which 
 we who live call life. We sleep, and it is 
 lifted." 
 
 " Wilt thou see him to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes, this morning. Thirty-eight years ago 
 
294 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 this month his wife died. It was a great grief 
 to hin:. She was but a girl, and her bride-year 
 was not quite worn out." 
 
 " I have never heard of her.'* 
 
 " Well, then, that is like to be. This is the 
 first time I have spoken of NannaTulloch since 
 she went away from us. It is long to remember, 
 yet she was very lovely, and very much 
 beloved. But thou knowest Shetlanders speak 
 not of the dead, nor do they count any thing 
 from a day of sorrow. However, thy words 
 have brought many things to my heart. This 
 day I will spend with my friend. " 
 
 The reconciliation which had taken place was 
 a good thing for Margaret. She was inclined 
 to be despondent; Suneva always faced the 
 future with a smile. It was better also that 
 Margaret should talk of Jan, than brood over 
 the subject in her own heart ; and nothing 
 interested Suneva like a love-quarrel If it 
 were between husband and wife, then it was of 
 double importance to her. She was always try- 
 ing to put sixes and sevens at one. She per- 
 suaded Margaret to write without delay to Jan, 
 and to request the Admiralty Office to forward 
 the letter. If it had been her letter she would 
 
LITTLE JAN'S TRIUMPH. 295 
 
 have written " Haste " and " Important " all 
 over it. She never tired of calculating the pos- 
 sibilities of Jan receiving it by a certain date, 
 and she soon fixed upon another date, when, 
 allowing for all possible detentions, Jan's next 
 letter might be expected. 
 
 But perhaps, most of all, the reconciliation was 
 good for Peter. Nothing keeps a man so 
 young as the companionship of his children and 
 grandchildren. Peter was fond and proud of 
 his daughter, but he delighted in little Jan. 
 The boy, so physically like his father, had many 
 of Peter's tastes and peculiarities. He loved 
 money, and Peter respected him for loving it. 
 There were two men whom Peter particularly 
 disliked ; little Jan disliked them also with all 
 his childish soul, and when he said things about 
 them that Peter did not care to say, the boy's 
 candor charmed and satisfied him, although he 
 pretended to reprove it. 
 
 Jan, too, had a very high temper, and resented, 
 quick as a flash, any wound to his childish self- 
 esteem. Peter was fond of noticing its relation- 
 ship to his own. One day he said to the boy : 
 " Do that again and I will send thee out of the 
 store." 
 
2$6 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 " If thou sends me out just once, I will never 
 come in thy store again ; no, I will not ; never, 
 as long as I live/' was the instant retort. 
 Peter repeated it to Suneva with infinite pride 
 and approval. " No one will put our little Jan 
 out for nothing/* he said. 
 
 " Well, then, he is just like thee!" said the 
 politic Suneva ; and Peter's face showed that 
 he considered the resemblance as very compli- 
 mentary. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JAN'S RETURN. 
 " For them the rod of chastisement flowered." 
 
 STRANGER suddenly dropped in these 
 Shetland islands, especially in winter, 
 would not unnaturally say, "how monotonously 
 dreary life must be here! In such isolation the 
 heart must lose its keen sense of sympathy, and 
 be irresponsive and dumb." That is the great 
 mistake about the affections. It is not the rise 
 and fall of empires, the birth and death of 
 kings, or the marching of armies that move 
 them most. When they answer from their 
 depths, it is to the domestic joys and tragedies 
 of life. Ever since Eve wept over her slain 
 son, and Rebecca took the love-gifts of Isaac, 
 this has been the case ; and until that mighty 
 angel, who stands on the sea and land, cries, 
 " Time shall be no more," the home loves, and 
 the home trials, will be the center of human- 
 
298 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 ity's deepest and sweetest emotions. So, then, 
 the little Shetland town had in it all the ele- 
 ments necessary for a life full of interest birth 
 and death, love and sorrow, the cruel hand and 
 the generous hand, the house of mourning and 
 the house of joy. 
 
 Just before Christmas-tide, Tulloch was sit- 
 ting alone at midnight. His malady was too 
 distressing to allow him to sleep, but a Norse- 
 man scorns to complain of physical suffering, 
 and prefers, so long as it is possible, to carry 
 on the regular routine of his life. He was 
 unable to go much out, and his wasted body 
 showed that it was under a constant torture, 
 but he said nothing, only he welcomed Mar- 
 garet and the doctor warmly, and seemed to 
 be glad of their unspoken sympathy. It had 
 been stormy all day, but the wind had gone 
 down, and a pale moon glimmered above the 
 dim, tumbling sea. All was quiet, not a foot- 
 fall, not a sound except the dull roar of the 
 waves breaking upon the beach. 
 
 Suddenly a woman's sharp cry cut the silence 
 like a knife. It was followed by sobs and 
 shrieks and passing footsteps and the clamor 
 of many voices. Every one must have noticed 
 
JAN'S RETURN. 299 
 
 how much more terrible noises are at night 
 than in the daytime ; the silly laughter of 
 drunkards and fools, the maniac's shout, the 
 piercing shriek of a woman in distress, seem to 
 desecrate its peaceful gloom, and mock the 
 slow, mystic panorama of the heavens. Tul- 
 loch felt unusually impressed by this night- 
 tumult, and early in the morning sent his serv- 
 ant out to discover its meaning. 
 
 " It was Maggie Barefoot, sir ; her man was 
 drowned last night ; she has six bairns and not 
 a bread-winner among them. But what then ? 
 Magnus Tulloch went too, and he had four 
 little lads their mother died at Lammas-tide. 
 They'll be God's bairns now, for they have 
 neither kith nor kin. It is a sad business, I 
 say that." 
 
 " Go and bring them here." 
 
 The order was given without consideration, 
 and without any conscious intention. He was 
 amazed himself when he had uttered it. The 
 man was an old servant, and said hesitatingly, 
 '"Yes, but they are no kin of thine." 
 
 " All the apples on the same tree have come 
 from the same root, Bele ; and it is like enough 
 that all the Tullochs will have had one forbear. 
 
300 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 I would be a poor Tulloch to see one of the 
 name wanting a bite and sup. Yes, indeed." 
 
 He was very thoughtful after seeing the 
 children, and whe/. Dr. Balloch came, he said 
 to him at once : " Now, then, I will do what 
 thou hast told me to do settle up my affairs 
 with this world forever. Wilt thou help me?" 
 
 " If I think thou does the right thing, I will 
 help thee, but I do not think it is right to give 
 thy money to Margaret Vedder. She has 
 enough and to spare. ' Cursed be he that 
 giveth unto the rich.' It was Mahomet and 
 Anti-Christ that said the words, but for all that 
 they are good words." 
 
 " I have no kin but a fifth cousin in Leith ; 
 he is full of gold and honor. All that I have 
 would be a bawbee to him. But this is what I 
 think, my money is Shetland money, made of 
 Shetland fishers, and it ought to stay in Shet- 
 land." 
 
 " I think that too." 
 
 " Well, then, we are of one mind so far. Now 
 my wish is to be bread-giver even when I am 
 dead, to be bread-giver to the children whose 
 fathers God has taken. Here are Magnus 
 Tulloch's four, and Hugh Petrie's little lad, and 
 
JAN'S RETURN. 301 
 
 James Traill's five children, and many more of 
 whom I know not. My houses, big and little, 
 shall be homes for them. My money shall buy 
 them meal and meat and wadmail to clothe 
 them. There are poor lonely women who will 
 be glad to care for them, eight or ten to each, 
 and Suneva Fae and Margaret Vedder will see 
 that the women do their duty. What thinkest 
 thou ? " 
 
 " Now, then, I think this, that God has made 
 thy will for thee. Moreover, thou hast put a 
 good thought into my heart also. Thou knows 
 I brought in my hand a little money when I 
 came to Shetland, and it has grown, I know not 
 how. I will put mine with thine, and though 
 we are two childless old men, many children 
 shall grow up and bless us." 
 
 Into this scheme Tulloch threw all his 
 strength and foresight and prudence. The 
 matter was urgent, and there were no delays, 
 and no waste of money. Three comfortable 
 fishermen's cottages that happened to be 
 vacant, were fitted with little bunks, and plenty 
 of fleeces for bedding. Peat was stacked for 
 firing, and meal and salted fish sent in ; so that 
 in three days twenty-three fatherless, mother- 
 
302 JAJV VENDER'S WIFE. 
 
 less children were in warm, comfortabl* 
 homes. 
 
 Suneva entered into the work with perfect 
 delight. She selected the mothers for each 
 cottage, and she took good care that they kept 
 them clean and warm, that the little ones' food 
 was properly cooked, and their clothes washed 
 and mended. If there were a sorrow or a com- 
 plaint it was brought to her, arid Suneva was 
 not one to blame readily a child. 
 
 Never man went down to the grave with his 
 hands so full of beneficent work as Tulloch. 
 Through it he took the sacrament of pain almost 
 joyfully, and often in the long, lonely hours of 
 nightly suffering, he remembered with a smile 
 of pleasure, the little children sweetly sleeping 
 in the homes he had provided for them. The 
 work grew and prospered wonderfully ; never 
 had there been a busier, happier winter in Ler- 
 wick. As was customary, there were tea-parties 
 at Suneva's and elsewhere nearly every night, 
 and at them the women sewed for the children, 
 while the men played the violin, or recited from 
 the Sagas, or sung the plaintive songs of the 
 Islands. 
 
 Margaret brought the dying man constant 
 intelligence of his bounty : the children, one 
 
JAN'S RETURN. 303 
 
 or two at a time, were allowed to come and see 
 him ; twice, leaning on Dr. Balloch, and his serv- 
 ant Bele, he visited the homes, and saw the 
 orphans at their noonday meals. He felt the 
 clasp of grateful hands, and the kiss of baby 
 lips that could not speak their thanks. His 
 last was the flower of his life-work and he saw 
 the budding of it, and was satisfied with its 
 beauty. 
 
 One morning in the following April, Margaret 
 received the letter which Suneva had prophesied 
 would arrive by the twentieth, if the weather 
 were favorable. Nowhere in the world has the 
 term, " weather permitting," such significance as 
 in these stormy seas. It is only necessary to 
 look at the mail steamers, so strongly built, so 
 bluff at the bows, and nearly as broad as they 
 are long, to understand that they expect to 
 have to take plenty of hard blows and buffet- 
 ings. It was the first steamer that had arrived 
 for months, and though it made the harbor in 
 a blinding snow-storm, little Jan would not be 
 prevented from going into the town to see if it 
 brought a letter. For the boy's dream of every 
 thing grand and noble centered in his father. 
 He talked of him incessantly ; he longed to see 
 him with all his heart. 
 
304 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Margaret also was restless and faint with 
 anxiety ; she could not even knit. Never were 
 two hours of such interminable length. At last 
 she saw him coming, his head bent to the storm, 
 his fleet feet skimming the white ground, his 
 hands deep in his pockets. Far off, he dis- 
 covered his mother watching for him ; then he 
 stopped a moment, waved the letter above his 
 head, and hurried onward. It was a good let- 
 ter, a tender, generous, noble letter, full of love 
 and longing, and yet alive with the stirring story 
 of right trampling wrong under foot. The child 
 listened to it with a glowing face : 
 
 "I would I were with my father and Snorro," 
 he said, regretfully. 
 
 "Would thou then leave me, Jan?" 
 
 " Ay, I would leave thee, mother. I would 
 leave thee, and love thee, as my father does. I 
 could stand by my father's side, I could fire a 
 gun, or reef a sail, as well as Snorro. I would 
 not be afraid of any thing ; no, I would not. 
 It is such a long, long time till a boy grows 
 up to be a man ! When I am a man, thou 
 shall see that I will have a ship of my own." 
 
 It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us ; 
 in joy we face the storm and defy it. Mar- 
 
JAN'S RETURN. 305 
 
 garet never thought of the snow as any impedi- 
 ment. She went first to Suneva, and then to 
 Dr. Balloch with her letter ; and she was so 
 full of happiness that she did not notice the 
 minister was very silent and preoccupied. 
 After a little, he said, " Margaret, I must go 
 now to Tulloch ; it has come to the last." 
 
 " Well, then, I think he will be glad. He has 
 suffered long and sorely." 
 
 " Yet a little while ago he was full of life, 
 eager for money, impatient of all who opposed 
 him. Thou knowest how hard it often was to 
 keep peace between him and thy father. Now 
 he has forgotten the things that once so 
 pleased him ; his gold, his houses, his boats, 
 his business, have dropped from his heart, 
 as the toys drop from the hand of a sleepy 
 child." 
 
 " Father went to see him a week ago." 
 
 " There is perfect peace between them now. 
 Thy father kissed him when they said 'good- 
 by.' When they meet again, they will have for- 
 gotten all the bitterness, they will remember 
 only that they lived in the same town, and wor- 
 shiped in the same church, and were compan- 
 ions in the same life. This morning we are 
 
306 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 going to eat together the holy bread ; come 
 thou with me." 
 
 As they walked through the town the minis- 
 ter spoke to a group of fishers, and four from 
 among them silently followed him. Tulloch 
 was still in his chair, and his three servants 
 stood beside him. The table was spread, the 
 bread was broken, and, with prayers and tears, 
 the little company ate it together. Then they 
 bade each other farewell, a farewell tranquil and 
 a little sad said simply, and without much 
 speaking. Soon afterward Tulloch closed his 
 eyes and the minister and Margaret watched 
 silently beside him. Only once again the dying 
 man spoke. He appeared to be sleeping 
 heavily, but his lips suddenly moved and he 
 said : " We shall see Nanna to-morrow ! " 
 
 " We ! " whispered Margaret. " Whom does 
 he mean ? " 
 
 " One whom we can not see ; one who knows 
 the constellations, and has come to take him to 
 his God." 
 
 Just at sunset a flash of strange light trans- 
 figured for a moment the pallor of his face ; he 
 opened wide his blue eyes, and standing erect, 
 bowed his head in an untranslatable wonder 
 
JAN'S RETURN. 30, 
 
 and joy. It was the moment of release, and 
 the weary body fell backward, deserted and 
 dead, into the minister's arms. 
 
 During the few months previous to his death, 
 Tulloch had been much in every one's heart and 
 on every one's tongue. There had not been a 
 gathering of any kind in which his name had 
 not been the prominent one ; in some way or 
 other, he had come into many lives. His death 
 made a general mourning, especially among the 
 fishers, to whom he had ever been a wise and 
 trustworthy friend. He had chosen his grave 
 in a small islet half a mile distant from Ler- 
 wick a lonely spot where the living never went, 
 save to bury the dead. 
 
 The day of burial was a clear one, with a 
 salt, fresh wind from the south-west. Six fisher- 
 men made a bier of their oars, and laid the 
 coffin upon it. Then the multitude followed, 
 singing as they went, until the pier was reached. 
 Boat after boat was filled, and the strange pro- 
 cession kept a little behind the one bearing the 
 coffin and the minister. The snow lay white 
 and unbroken on the island, and, as it was only 
 a few acres in extent, the sea murmured uiv 
 ceasingly around all its shores. 
 
308 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 The spot was under a great rock carved by 
 storms into cloud-like castles and bastions. 
 Eagles watched them with icy gray eyes from 
 its summit, and the slow cormorant, and the sad 
 sea-gulls. Overhead a great flock of wild swans 
 were taking their majestic flight to the solitary 
 lakes .of Iceland, uttering all the time an inspir- 
 ing cry, the very essence of eager expectation 
 and of joyful encouragement. Dr. Balloch 
 stood, with bared head and uplifted eyes, 
 watching them, while they laid the mortal part 
 of his old friend in " that narrow house, whose 
 mark is one gray stone." Then looking around 
 on the white earth, and the black sea, and the 
 roughly-clad, sad-faced fishers, he said, almost 
 triumphantly 
 
 " The message came forth from him in whom 
 we live, and move, and have our being : 
 
 " Who is nearer to us than breathing, and 
 closer than hands or feet. 
 
 " Come up hither and dwell in the house of 
 the Lord forever. 
 
 " The days of thy sorrow have been suffi- 
 cient ; henceforward there is laid up for thee 
 the reward of exceeding joy. 
 
 "Thoushalt no more fear the evil to come. 
 
JAN'S KETURN. 309 
 
 the bands of suffering are loosed. Thy Re- 
 deemer hath brought thee a release from sor- 
 row. 
 
 "So he went forth unto his Maker; he 
 attained unto the beginning of peace. 
 
 " He departed to the habitations of just men 
 made perfect, to the communion of saints, to 
 the life everlasting/' 
 
 Then he threw a few spadefuls of earth into 
 the grave, and every man in turn did the same, 
 till the sepulture was fully over. Silently then 
 the boats filled, and all went to their homes. 
 They were solemn, but not sorrowful. The 
 simple, pathetic service left behind it a feeling 
 as of triumph. It had shown them they were 
 mortal, but assured them also of immortality. 
 
 During the following summer Margaret 
 received many letters from Jan ; and she wrote 
 many to him. Nothing is so conducive to a 
 strong affection as a long sweet course of love- 
 letters, and both of them impressed their souls 
 on the white paper which bore to each other 
 their messages of affection. It was really their 
 wooing time, and never lover was half so 
 impatient to claim his bride, as Jan was to see 
 again his fair, sweet Margaret. But it was not 
 
310 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 likely that he could return for another year, and 
 Margaret set herself to pass the time as wisely 
 and happily as possible. 
 
 Nor did she feel life to be a dreary or monot- 
 onous affair. She was far too busy for morbid 
 regrets or longings, for ennui, or impatience 
 Between Dr. Balloch, little Jan, the " Tulloch 
 Homes," and her own house, the days were far 
 too short. They slipped quickly into weeks, 
 and the weeks into months, and the months 
 grew to a year, and then every morning she 
 awoke with the same thought " Even to-day 
 Jan might come/' Little Jan shared her joyous 
 expectations. He was always watching the 
 horizon for any strange-looking craft. The last 
 thing at night, the first in the morning, some- 
 times during the night, he scanned the bay, 
 which was now filling fast with fishing boats 
 from all quarters. 
 
 One Sunday morning very, very early, he 
 came to his mother's bedside. "Wake, my 
 mother ! There is a strange ship in the bay. 
 She is coming straight to harbor. Oh ! I feel 
 surely in my heart, that it is my father's ship ! 
 Let me go. Let me go now, I ask thee." 
 
 Margaret was at the window ere the child 
 
JAN 3 RE TURN. 3 1 1 
 
 ceased speaking. " Thou may go," she said, 
 " for I certainly think it is ' The Lapwing.' ' 
 
 He had fled at the first words, and Margaret 
 awoke Elga, and the fires were kindled, and the 
 breakfast prepared, and the happy wife dressed 
 herself in the pale blue color that Jan loved ; 
 and she smiled gladly to see how beautifully it 
 contrasted with the golden-brown of her hair, . 
 and the delicate pink in her cheeks. 
 
 As for the child, his clear, sharp eyes soon 
 saw very plainly that the vessel had come to 
 anchor in the bay. " Well/' he said, " that will 
 be because the tide does not serve yet." John 
 Sempb, an old Scot from Ayrshire, was on the 
 pier, the only soul in sight. " John, thou loose 
 the boat, and row me out to ' The Lapwing.' It 
 is l The Lapwing/ I know it is. Come, thou 
 must be in a hurry." 
 
 "' Hurry' is the deil's ain word, and I'll 
 hurry for naebody ; forbye, I wadna lift an oar 
 for man nor bairn on the Sawbath day." 
 ' " Dost thou think it is ' The Lapwing? ' ' 
 
 " It may be : I'll no say it isn't." 
 
 The child had unfastened the boat while he 
 was talking ; he leaped into it, and lifted an 
 oar. " Then I must scull, John. Thou might 
 go with me ! " 
 
312 JAN VEDDER' S WIFE. 
 
 " I'm no gaun to break the Sawbath, an' a 
 water way is waur than a land way, for then 
 you'll be atween the deil an' the deep sea. 
 Bide at hame, Jan, an' ye'll be a wise lad." 
 
 Jan shook his head, and went away by him- 
 self. The bay was smooth as glass, and he 
 paddled with marvelous ease and speed. Very 
 .soon he came alongside the yacht : the sailors 
 were holystoning the deck, but there was not a 
 face looked over the side that little Jan knew. 
 
 "Well, then, is this * The Lapwing?'" he 
 asked. 
 
 " That's her name ; what's your name, you 
 little monkey?" 
 
 " Jan Vedder. Throw me a rope." 
 
 The men laughed as if at some excellent 
 joke, and taunted and teased the child until he 
 was in a passion. In the middle of the quarrel 
 Jan himself came on deck. 
 
 " A lad as wants to come on board, Captain." 
 
 Jan looked down at the lad who wanted to 
 come on board, and the bright, eager face gave 
 him a sudden suspicion. " What is thy name? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Jan Vedder. Wilt thou throw me a rope?" 
 
 Then the captain turned and gave some 
 
JAN'S RETURN. 313 
 
 orders, and in a few minutes little Jan stood on 
 the deck of " The Lapwing. "His first glance, his 
 first movement was toward the handsomely 
 dressed officer who was watching him with such 
 a smiling, loving face. 
 
 " Thou art my father ! I know thou art ! " 
 and with the words he lifted up his face and 
 arms as if to be kissed and embraced. 
 
 Then they went into the cabin and Snorro 
 was called, and perhaps Jan had a little pang 
 of jealousy when he witnessed the joy of the 
 child, and saw him folded to Snorro's big heart. 
 Jan and Snorro were already dressed in their 
 finest uniforms. They had only been waiting 
 for the daybreak to row into harbor. But now 
 there was no need of delay. " My mother is 
 waiting for thee," said little Jan, anxiously. 
 " Come, let us go to her." 
 
 It was still very early. John Semple had 
 disappeared, and not a soul else was stirring. 
 But this time when Jan approached his old 
 home, the welcome was evident from afar. The 
 chimneys were smoking, the blinds raised, the 
 door wide open, and Margaret, beautiful and 
 loving, stood in it, with beaming face and open 
 arms to welcome him. 
 
314 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Then there was a wonderful breakfast, and 
 they sat over it until the bells were ringing for 
 church. " There will be time to talk afterward," 
 said Snorro, " but now, what better thing can 
 be done than to go to church ? It will be the 
 best place of all, and it is well said, l for a happy 
 hour a holy roof/ What dost thou think, 
 Jan?" 
 
 " I think as thou dost, and I see the same 
 answer in my Margaret's face. Well, then, we 
 will take that road." 
 
 So Jan, with his wife upon his arm, went first, 
 and Snorro, holding little Jan by the hand, 
 followed. The congregation were singing a 
 psalm, a joyful one, it seemed to Jan, and they 
 quietly walked to the minister's pew, which was 
 always reserved for strangers. 
 
 Ere they reached it there was a profound 
 sensation, and Dr. Balloch slightly raised him- 
 self and looked at the party. Jan was in his 
 full uniform, and so was Snorro, but there was 
 no mistaking either of the men. And no mis- 
 taking the tone of the service which followed ! 
 It seemed as if the minister had flung off fifty 
 years, and was again talking to his flock with 
 the fire and enthusiasm of his youth. His 
 
JAN'S RETURN. 315 
 
 prayer was like a song of triumph ; his sermor* 
 the old joyful invitation of the heart that had 
 found its lost treasure, and called upon its 
 neighbors to come and rejoice with it. The 
 service ended in a song that was a benediction, 
 and a benediction that was a song. 
 
 Then Dr. Balloch hastened to come down, 
 and Jan, seeing how he trembled with joy, went 
 to meet and support him ; and so there, even 
 on the pulpit stairs, the good minister kissed 
 and blessed him, and called him, " my dear 
 son." Peter put out both hands to Jan, and 
 Margaret embraced Suneva, and in the church- 
 yard the whole congregation waited, and there 
 was scarcely a dry eye among either men or 
 women. 
 
 " Thou come home to my house to-night, 
 Jan," said Peter, " thou, and thy wife and child ; 
 come, and be gladly welcome, for this is a great 
 day to me." 
 
 " Come, all of you," said Suneva, " and Snor- 
 ro. he must come too." 
 
 So they spent the night at Peter's house, and 
 the next morning Peter walked to his store 
 between his son-in-law and his grandson, the 
 proudest and happiest man in Shetland. All, 
 
316 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 and far more than all of his old love for Jan had 
 come back to his heart. Jan could have asked 
 him now for the half of his fortune, and K 
 would have been given cheerfully. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LABOR AND REST. 
 
 " Turning to the celestial city, to infinite serenities, to love 
 without limit, to perfect joy." 
 
 THE next evening Peter and Suneva and 
 Dr. Balloch sat around Jan's hearth, and 
 talked of all that he had seen and done during 
 his absence. " But where is Michael Snorro?" 
 asked the doctor. " I thought to have heard 
 him talk to-night." 
 
 " Snorro stays by the yacht. His quarters 
 are on her, and she is in his charge. No one 
 finds Snorro far from the post of duty," an- 
 swered Jan proudly. " He is the best sailor in 
 her Majesty's service, and the best fighter." 
 
 " That is likely," said Peter. " Since the 
 days of Harold Halfager, the Snorros have 
 been called good fighters." 
 
 " And why not ? " asked Suneva, with a 
 proud toss of her handsome head. " He is 
 
318 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 pure Norse. Will a Norseman turn from any 
 fight in a good cause? That he will not 
 Peter, there is none can tell us better what the 
 Norseman is than thou can. Speak out now, 
 for Jan and the minister will be glad to hear 
 thee. 
 
 Every Shetlander can recite. Suneva had 
 taught Peter to believe that no one could 
 recite as well as he could ; so he laid down his 
 pipe, and, with great spirit and enthusiasm, 
 spoke thus: 
 
 " A swarthy strength with face of light, 
 As dark sword-iron is beaten bright ; 
 A brave, frank look, with health aglow, 
 Bonny blue eyes and open brow ; 
 A man who'll face to his last breath 
 The sternest facts of life and death ; 
 His friend he welcomes heart-in-hand, 
 But foot to foot his foe must stand ; 
 
 This is the daring Norseman. 
 
 The wild wave motion, weird and strange , 
 Rocks in him : seaward he must range. 
 He hides at heart of his rough life 
 A world of sweetness for his wife ; 
 
LABOR AND REST. . 319 
 
 From his rude breast a babe can press 
 Soft milk of human tenderness, 
 Make his eyes water, his heart dance, 
 And sunrise in his countenance ; 
 
 The mild, great-hearted Norseman 
 
 Valiant and true, as Sagas tell, 
 
 The Norseman hateth lies like hell ; 
 
 Hardy from cradle to the grave, 
 
 'Tis his religion to be brave ; 
 
 Great, silent, fighting men, whose words \^ 
 
 Were few, soon said, and out with swords i 
 
 One saw his heart cut from his side 
 
 Living and smiled, and smiling, died, 
 
 The unconquerable Norseman ! 
 
 Still in our race the Norse king reigns, 
 His best blood beats along our veins ; 
 With his old glory we can glow, 
 And surely sail where he could row. 
 Is danger stirring ? Up from sleep 
 Our war-dog wakes the watch to keep, 
 Stands with our banner over him, 
 True as of old, and stern and grim ; 
 
 The brave, true-hearted Norseman. 
 
 When swords are gleaming you shall see 
 The Norseman's face flash gloriously ; 
 
320 JAN VEDDER' S WIFE. 
 
 With look that makes the foeman reel : 
 His mirror from of old was steel. 
 And still he wields, in battle's hour, 
 That old Thor's hammer of Norse power ; 
 Strikes with a desperate arm of might, 
 And at the last tug turns the fight : 
 
 For never yields the Norseman." 
 
 " That is true/* said Jan ; " and Snorro knows 
 not the way to yield. Once, on the river 
 Songibusar, when we were attacking Sherif 
 Osman, there was danger that a battery would 
 be taken in reverse. ' The Ajax ' had come up to 
 assist the * Hydra/ and her commander sent a 
 sergeant to tell Snorro that he had better spike 
 his gun and retreat." 
 
 Suneva laughed scornfully, and asked, " Well, 
 then, what did Snorro answer ? " 
 
 " 'Thou tell him that sent thee, that Michael 
 Snorro takes his orders only from Captain Jan 
 Vedder, and Captain Vedder has not said 
 "retreat." No, indeed!' Then he got his 
 gun round to bear on the enemy, and he poured 
 such a fire down on them that they fled, fled 
 quick enough. As for Snorro, he did things 
 almost impossible/' 
 
LABOR AND REST. 32* 
 
 " Well, Jan, Osman was a very bad man. IV 
 is not well to pity the downfall of tyrants. He 
 had made Borneo, it seems, a hell upon earth.' 
 
 " My minister, he was a devil and no man, 
 But five hundred free blue jackets were more 
 than he could bear. We utterly destroyed all 
 his forts, and took all his cannon, and made the 
 coast habitable/' 
 
 "To-day," said Margaret, " I heard thee say 
 to Snorro, * when thou comes next on shore, 
 bring with thee that idol of Chappo's for the 
 minister/ Who then is Chappo ? " 
 
 " A wretch worth fighting. A Chinese pirate 
 who came out against us with forty junks, each 
 junk carrying ten guns and a crew of fifty men. 
 He had been blockading the island of Potoo, 
 where many English ladies had taken refuge. 
 It is not fit to name the deeds of these devils. 
 We took from them sixty wretched captives, 
 destroyed one hundred of their crafts and two 
 hundred of their guns, and thus enabled a large 
 number of merchant vessels which had been shut 
 up in different rivers for ransom, to escape. 
 There was even a worse state of affairs on the 
 Sarabas. There we were assisted by an Ameri- 
 can ship called ' The Manhattan, 'and with her aid 
 
32* JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 destroyed a piratical expeditiom numbering one 
 hundred and twenty proas carrying more than 
 twelve hundred men. These wretches before 
 starting beheaded and mutilated all their women 
 captives, and left their bodies with that of a 
 child about six years old upon the beach. 
 Snorro's wrath that day was terrible. He shut 
 his ears to every cry for mercy. I do not blame 
 him ; indeed, no." 
 
 Thus they talked, until the minister said, 
 " Now I must go to my own house, for Hamish 
 is full of fears for me if I am late." So Jan 
 walked with him. It was midnight, but the 
 moon was high in the zenith, and the larks 
 singing rapturously in mid-air. A tender, 
 mystical glow was over earth and sea, and both 
 were as still as if they were a picture. Many 
 good words were said on that walk, and the 
 man who was saved and the man who saved 
 him both lay down upon their beds that night 
 with full and thankful hearts. 
 
 For two months, full of quiet joy, Jan and 
 Margaret occupied their old home. They were 
 almost as much alone as in their honeymoon ; 
 for little Jan spent most of his time with his 
 friend Snorro, on board " The Lapwing." 
 
LABOR AND REST. 323 
 
 Snorro had been much pleased to join his old 
 mates in the fishing boats, but he could not 
 bear to put off, even for a day, his uniform. 
 However, Jan and he and little Jan often 
 sailed in advance of the fleet, and found the 
 herring, and brought word back what course to 
 steer. For this knowledge was a kind of 
 instinct with Jan ; he could stand and look 
 east and west, north and south, and then by 
 some occult premonition, strike the belt of 
 fish. 
 
 Never had Jan dreamed of such happiness as 
 came at last to him in that humble home of 
 his early married life. It was a late harvest of 
 joy, but it was a sure one. Margaret had wept 
 tears of fond regret in all its rooms ; its hearth 
 had been an altar of perpetual repentance to 
 her. But the sorrow had been followed by the 
 joy of forgiveness, and the bliss of re-union. 
 Its walls now echoed the fond words of mutual 
 trust and affection, and the hearty communings 
 of friendship. There was no stint in its hospi- 
 tality ; no worry over trivial matters. Mar- 
 garet had learned that in true marriage the 
 wife must give as well as take give love and 
 forbearance, and help and comfort. 
 
324 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 Jan's and Snorro's visit was a kind of festival 
 for Lerwick. Though it was the busy season, 
 Peter and Suneva kept open house. Never 
 had Peter been so generous both in friendship 
 and in business ; never had Suneva dressed so 
 gayly, or set such plenteous feasts. She was 
 very proud of Margaret's position, and paid her 
 unconsciously a vast respect ; but she opened 
 all her warm heart to little Jan, and everything 
 that was hers she determined to give him. 
 
 Dr. Balloch, in his quiet way, enjoyed the 
 visit equally. He went very often to sea in 
 the yacht with Jan and Snorro, and, in the 
 happy intercourse with them, the long days 
 were short ones to him. He saw the full 
 fruition of his faith and charity, and was satis- 
 fied. 
 
 Fortunately, after this event Jan was never 
 very long away at one time. Until the Russian 
 war he made short cruises in the African seas, 
 and Snorro had many opportunities of realizing 
 the joy of liberating the slave, and punishing the 
 oppressor. In the toil and suffering of the 
 Crimea, Jan and Snorro bore their part 
 bravely. Jan had charge of a naval brigade 
 formed of contingents from the ships of the 
 
LABOR AND REST. 325 
 
 allied fleets. No men did a greater variety of 
 duties or behaved more gallantly than these 
 blue jackets on shore. They dragged the 
 heavy guns from their ships, and they fought 
 in the batteries. They carried the scaling 
 ladders in assaults. They landed the stores. 
 They cheerfully worked as common laborers 
 on that famous road between Balaclava and 
 Sebastopol, for they knew that on its com- 
 pletion depended the lives of the brave men 
 famishing and dying on the heights. 
 
 But after many happy, busy years, Jan came 
 home one day and found only Margaret to 
 welcome him. His son Jan was commanding 
 his own vessel in Australian waters ; his son 
 Peter was in the East Indies. His daughters' 
 homes were far apart, Margaret, with fast sil- 
 vering hair, and the heavy step of advancing 
 years, longed greatly for the solace and strength 
 of his constant presence; and Jan confessed 
 that he was a little weary of the toil, and even 
 of the glory of his life. 
 
 The fact once admitted, the desire for retire- 
 ment grew with its discussion. In a little 
 while Jan and Snorro returned to Shetland for 
 the evening of their lives. They had been 
 
3*6 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 twenty years away, but Lerwick was very little 
 changed. The old world had not been invaded 
 by the new one. Here and there the busy 
 spirit of the age had left a finger-mark; no 
 more. The changes were mostly those which 
 under any circumstances would have come. 
 Doctor Balloch had finished his work, and gone 
 to his reward. Peter's store was in another 
 name, but Peter, though a very old man, was 
 bright and hale, and quite able to take an 
 almost childlike interest in all Jan's plans and 
 amusements. 
 
 At first Jan thought of occupying himself 
 with building a fine new house ; but after he 
 had been a week in Shetland, his ambitious 
 project seemed almost ridiculous. He noticed 
 also that Margaret's heart clung to her old home, 
 the plain little house in which she had suffered, 
 and enjoyed, and learned so much. So he sat 
 down contentedly on the hearth from which he 
 began a life whose troubled dawning had been 
 succeeded by a day so brilliant, and an evening 
 so calm. 
 
 Snorro, never far away, and never long away, 
 from his "dear captain," his "dear Jan," 
 bought the little cottage in which he had once 
 
LABOR AND REST. 327 
 
 lived. There he hung again the pictured Christ, 
 ' and there he arranged, in his own way, all the 
 treasures he had gathered during his roving 
 life. Snorro's house was a wonderful place to 
 the boys of Lerwick. They entered it with an 
 almost awful delight. They sat hour after hour, 
 listening to the kind, brave, good man, in whom 
 every child found a friend and comforter. His 
 old mates also dearly loved to spend their even- 
 ings with Snorro, and hear him tell about the 
 dangers he had passed through, and the deeds 
 he had done. 
 
 How fair ! how calm and happy was this 
 evening of a busy day ! Yet in its sweet re- 
 pose many a voice from the outside world 
 reached the tired wayfarers. There were fre- 
 quent letters from Jan's children, and they 
 came from all countries, and brought all kinds 
 of strange news. There were rare visits from 
 old friends, messages and tokens of remem- 
 brance, and numerous books and papers that 
 kept for them the echoes of the places they had 
 left. 
 
 Neither did they feel the days long, or grow 
 weary with inaction. Jan and Snorro, like the 
 majority of men, whose life-work is finished, 
 
328 JAN VEDDER'S WIFE. 
 
 conceived a late but ardent affection for their 
 mother earth. They each had gardens and small 
 hot-houses, and they were always making experi- 
 ments with vegetables and flowers. It was 
 wonderful how much pleasure they got out of 
 the patches of ground they tried to beautify. 
 Then the fishing season always renewed their 
 youth. The boats in which Jan or Snorro 
 took a place were the lucky boats, and often 
 both men sat together during the watch, as they 
 had done long years before, and talked softly in 
 the exquisite Shetland night of all the good that 
 had come to them. 
 
 For the companionship between these two 
 souls grew closer and fonder as they drew nearer 
 to the heavenly horizon. They were more and 
 more together, they walked the long watches 
 again, and fought over their battles, and recalled 
 the hours which had been link after link in 
 that chain of truest love which had bound their 
 hearts and lives together. 
 
 And Margaret, still beautiful, with hair as 
 white as snow, and a face as fair and pink as a 
 pale rose-leaf, sat smiling, and listening, and 
 knitting beside them ; no fears in any of theit 
 hearts to beat away, no strife to heal, the past 
 
LABOR AND REST. 3 2 9 
 
 unsighed for, the future sure, they made a pic 
 ture of old age, well won, 
 
 " Serene and bright 
 And lovely as a Shetland night/' 
 
 THE END- 
 
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 PS1072 
 
 Barr, A.E.H. J3 
 
 Jan Vedder's wife. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS