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 publication.

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."

"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 Margaret would see him, wondering how best to gain her forgiveness, longing to see her face but not daring to approach her without some preparation 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 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 flooring, 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 moved 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 Tulloch, I should say. Wilt thou buy or sell aught this morning?"

"Good morning, Fae. I came to thee for news. Where is thy son Jan staying?"

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 on board 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 to 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 forgiveness. 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."

"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 Vedder 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 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, bl.u.s.tering day, and its warmth and company made it a favorite lounging place. Jan's misfortune was the sole topic of conversation, and Jan's absence was unfavorably criticised. Why did he not come among his fellows and tell them how it had happened? 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 pa.s.s the long stormy day in talking it over. As it was, they had only conjectures. No one but Tulloch had seen Jan. They wondered where he was.

"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.