fast her door. She sobbed for hours with all the passionate
abandon 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 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 pleasure 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 weeping 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 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 subject," 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 ic