ol left on which he could
sit down. He laughed aloud--that wretched laugh of reckless sorrow,
that is far more pitiful than weeping. Then he went to Torr's. People
had seen him on the way to his home, and no one had been kind enough
to prevent his taking the useless, wretched journey. He felt deeply
wounded and indignant. There were not half a dozen men or women in
Lerwick whose position in regard to Jan would have excused their
interference, but of that he did not think. Every man and woman knew
his shame and wrong. Some one might have warned him. Torr shook his
head sympathetically at Jan's complaints, and gave him plenty of
liquor, and in an hour he had forgotten his grief in a drunken
stupor.

The next morning he went to Peter's house to see his wife. Peter knew
of his arrival, and he had informed himself of all that had happened
in Torr's room. Jan had, of course, spoken hastily and passionately,
and had drunk deeply, and none of his faults had been kept from
Margaret. She had expected him to come at once for her, to be in a
passion probably, and to say some hard things, but she also had
certainly thought he would say them to her, and not to strangers. Hour
after hour she watched, sick with longing and fear and anger, hour
after hour, until Peter came in, stern and dour, and said:

"Get thee to thy bed, Margaret. Jan Vedder has said words of thee this
night that are not to be forgiven, and he is now fathoms deep in
Torr's liquor. See thou speak not with him--good nor bad," and Peter
struck the table so angrily, that both women were frightened into a
silence, which he took for consent.

So when Jan asked to see his wife, Thora stood in the door, and in her
sad, still way told him that Peter had left strict orders against his
entering the house.

"But thou, mother, wilt ask Margaret to come out here and speak to me?
Yes, thou wilt do that," and he eagerly pressed in Thora's hand the
little present he had brought. "Give her this, and tell her I wait
here for her."

After ten minutes' delay, Thora returned and gave him the trinket
back. Margaret wanted her L600 and not a gold locket, and Jan had not
even sent her a message about it. His return had brought back the
memory of her loss in all its first vividness. She had had a dim hope
that Jan would bring her money with him, that he had only taken it to
frighten her; to lose this hope was to live over again her first keen
sorrow. In this mood it was easy for her t