Jan Vedder's Wife Part 19

"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 minister'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 att.i.tude. 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.

"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 gla.s.s, 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 Vedder."

"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 pa.s.sing 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."

"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 to manage. 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 not 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.

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 homecoming 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 understanding 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 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 presence. 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 XI.

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 stillness 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, 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 cus.h.i.+oned chair again stood on the hearth, and little Jan took possession of it. Many a night, wearied with play, he cuddled himself up among its cus.h.i.+ons, 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 sparkling in the suns.h.i.+ne, the herring-fleet gathering 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 pa.s.sed 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 graceful, 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?"

"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 fis.h.i.+ng with Matthew Vale."

"Now, then, what wilt thou do with thy time? Let me tell thee, time is a very precious gift of G.o.d; 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 coa.r.s.er 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?"

"What is there, Margaret, on the long table 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 undertaken 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 and discussed with a man like Dr. Balloch without mental enlargement. Equally great and good was the moral effect of the companions.h.i.+p. Her pen became the pen of a ready writer, for the old clergyman kept up a constant correspondence with his college companions, 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 very near the kingdom."