ically
passing her fingers along the chain. "It is the very pattern I wished
for," she whispered to her heart, "I remember drawing 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 standing, so apparently calm, with her eyes
fixed upon the locket and chain that dangled from her white hand.
"She was wondering how much they cost Jan," he thought bitterly; "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 Jan's noble
deeds, and his imagination almost deifying 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 himself 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 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.

SNORRO 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."

Snorro had indeed very much misjudged Margaret. During her interview
with him she had been absorbed in one effort, that of preserving 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