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." 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 hospitality; no worry over trivial matters.
Margaret had learned that in true marriage the wife must give as well
as take--give love and forbearance, and help and comfort.

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 every thing that was
hers she determined to give him.

Dr. Balloch, in hi