Jan Vedder's Wife - Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (historical books to read txt) 📗

weary of Jan's ill-temper and heroics. Besides, he was in his debt, and there seemed no prospect of speedy work for him. Upon the whole, it was a miserable winter for the Vedders. Jan made very little. Sometimes he killed a seal, or brought in a bag of birds, but his earnings were precarious, and Margaret took care that his table should be in accordance. She had money, of course, but it was her own money, and a thing with which Jan had no right. She ate her meager fare of salt fish and barley bread with a face of perfect resignation; she gave up her servant and made no complaints, and she did think it a most shameful injustice that, after all, Jan should be cross with her. It did not strike her, that good meal, even though she had procured it from her own private hoard, might have been a better thing than the most saintly patience. There is much said about the wickedness of doing evil that good may come. Alas! there is such a thing as doing good that evil may come.

One afternoon in early spring Jan saw a flock of wild swans soaring majestically on their strong wings toward a lake which was a favorite resting place with them. He took his gun and followed after. They were gathered in the very middle of the lake; his dog could not swim so far, neither could his shot reach them. It seemed as if every promise mocked him. Sulky and disappointed, he was returning home when he met the Udaller Tulloch. He was jogging along on his little rough pony, his feet raking the ground, and his prehistoric hat tied firmly on the back of his head.

But in spite of his primitive appearance he was a man of wealth and influence, the banker of the island, liked and trusted of all men--except Peter Fae. With Peter he had come often in conflict; he had superseded him in a civil office, he had spoken slightingly of some of Peter's speculations, and, above all offenses, in a recent kirk election he had been chosen Deacon instead of Peter. They were the two rich men of Lerwick, and they were jealous and distrustful of each other.

"Jan Vedder," said Tulloch, cheerily, "I would speak with thee; come to my house within an hour."

It was not so fine a house as Peter's, but Jan liked its atmosphere. Small glass barrels of brandy stood on the sideboard; there was a case of Hollands in the chimney corner; fine tobacco, bloaters, and sturgeons' roes were in comfortable proximity. A bright fire of peats glowed on the ample hearth, and the Udaller sat eating and drinking before it. He made Jan join him, and without delay entered upon his business.

"I want to sell 'The Solan,' Jan. She is worth a thousand pounds for a coaster; or, if thou wishes, thou could spoil Skager's trips with her. She is half as broad as she is long, with high bilge, and a sharp bottom; the very boat for these seas--wilt thou buy her?"

"If I had the money, nothing would be so much to my liking."

"Well, then, thy wife brought me L50 yesterday; that makes thy account a little over L600. I will give thee a clear bill of sale and trust thee for the balance. 'Tis a great pity to see a good lad like thee going to waste. It is that."

"If I was in thy debt, then thou would own a part of me. I like well to be my own master."

"A skipper at sea doth what he will; and every one knows that Jan Vedder is not one that serves. Remember, thou wilt be skipper of thy--own--boat!"

Jan's eyes flashed joyfully, but he said, "My wife may not like I should use the money for this purpose."

"It is a new thing for a man to ask his wife if he can spend this or that, thus or so. And to what good? Margaret Vedder would speak to her father, and thou knows if Peter Fae love thee--or not."

These words roused the worst part of Jan's nature. He remembered, in a moment, all the envy and wonder he would cause by sailing out of harbor skipper of his own boat. It was the very temptation that was irresistible to him. He entered into Tulloch's plan with all his heart, and before he left him he was in a mood to justify any action which would further his desire.

"Only give not thy thoughts speech, Jan," said Tulloch at parting; "and above all things, trust not thy plans to a woman. When will thou tell me 'yes' or 'no'?"

"To-morrow."

But Jan was not the man to hold counsel with his own soul. He wanted human advice and sympathy, and he felt sure of Snorro. He went straight to him, but the store was still open, and Peter Fae was standing in the door, three of his neighbors with him. He looked at Jan scornfully and asked--"Well, how many swans did thou get?"

"I have been after a purchase, Peter Fae."

"Good. How wilt thou pay for it, then?"

"I will take my own to pay for it."

Peter laughed, and turning away, answered, "Why, then, do I speak to thee? Only God understands fools."

This conversation irritated Jan far more than many an actual wrong had done. "I have indeed been a fool," he said to Snorro, "but now I will look well to what concerns my own interest."

Then he told Michael of Tulloch's offer, and added, "At last, then, I have the sum of my wife's savings, and I will show her she has been saving for a good end. What dost thou think, Snorro?"

"I think the money is thine. All thine has been hers, or she had not saved so much; all hers ought then to be thine. But it is well and right to tell her of Tulloch's offer to thee. She may like to give thee as a gift what else thou must take without any pleasure."

Jan laughed; it was an unpleasant laugh, and did not at all brighten his face, but he resolved to a certain extent on taking Snorro's advice. It was quite midnight when he reached his home, but Margaret was sitting by a few red peats knitting. She was weeping, also, and her tears annoyed him.

"Thou art ever crying like a cross child," he said. "Now what art thou crying for?"

"For thy love, my husband. If thou would care a little for me!"

"That is also what I say. If thou would care a little for me and for my well-doing! Listen, now! I have heard where I can buy a good boat for L600. Wilt thou ask thy father for so much of thy tocher? To have this boat, Margaret, would make me the happiest man in Shetland. I know that thou can manage it if thou wilt. Dear wife, do this thing for me. I ask thee with all my heart." And he bent toward her, took the knitting away, and held her hands in his own.

Margaret dropped her eyes, and Jan watched her with a painful interest. Did she love him or her L600 better? Her face paled and flushed. She looked up quickly, and her lips parted. Jan believed that she was going to say--"I have L600, and I will gladly give it to thee." He was ready to fold her to his breast, to love her, as he had loved her that day when he had first called her "wife." Alas! after a slight hesitation, she dropped her pale face and answered slowly--"I will not ask my father. I might as well ask the sea for fresh water."

Jan let her hands fall, and stood up. "I see now that all talk with thee will come to little. What thou wants, is that men should give thee all, and thou give nothing. When thou sayest, 'thy love, husband,' thou means 'thy money, husband;' and if there is no money, then there is ever sighs and tears. Many things thou hast yet to learn of a wife's duty, and very soon I will give thee a lesson I had done well to teach thee long since."

"I have borne much from thee, Jan, but at the next wrong thou does me, I will go back to my father. That is what I shall do."

"We will see to that."

"Yes, we will see!" And she rose proudly, and with flashing eyes gathered up her knitting and her wool and left the room.

The next morning Jan and Tulloch concluded their bargain. "The Solan" was put in thorough order, and loaded with a coasting cargo. It was supposed that Tulloch's nephew would sail her, and Jan judged it wisest to show no interest in the matter. But an hour after all was ready, he drew the L600 out of Tulloch's bank, paid it down for the boat, and sailed her out of Lerwick harbor at the noon-tide. In ten minutes afterward a score of men had called in Peter Fae's store and told him.

He was both puzzled and annoyed. Why had Tulloch interfered with Jan unless it was for his, Peter's, injury? From the secrecy maintained, he suspected some scheme against his interests. Snorro, on being questioned, could truthfully say that Jan had not told him he was to leave Lerwick that morning; in fact, Jan had purposely left Snorro ignorant of his movements. But the good fellow could not hide the joy he felt, and Peter looked at him wrathfully.

It was seldom Peter went to see his daughter, but that evening he made her a call. Whatever she knew she would tell him, and he did not feel as if he could rest until he got the clue to Jan's connection with Tulloch. But when he named it to Margaret, he found she was totally ignorant of Jan's departure. The news shocked her. Her work dropped from her hand; she was faint with fear and amazement. Jan had never before left her in anger, without a parting word or kiss. Her father's complaints and fears about Tulloch she scarcely heeded. Jan's behavior toward herself was the only thought in her mind. Peter learned nothing from her; but his irritation was much increased by what he considered Margaret's unreasonable sorrow over a bad husband. He could not bear a crying woman, and his daughter's sobs angered him.

"Come thou home to thy mother," he said, "when thy eyes are dry; but bring no tears to my house for Jan Vedder."

Then Margaret remembered that she had threatened Jan with this very thing. Evidently he had dared her to do it by this new neglect and unkindness. She wandered up and down the house, full of wretched fears and memories; love, anger, pride, each striving for the mastery. Perhaps the bitterest of all her thoughts toward her husband arose from the humiliating thought of "what people would say." For Margaret was a slave to a wretched thraldom full of every possible tragedy--she would see much of her happiness or misery through the eyes of others.

She felt bitterly that night that her married life had been a failure; but failures are generally brought about by want of patience and want of faith. Margaret had never had much patience with Jan; she had lost all faith in him. "Why should she not go home as her father told her?" This question she kept asking herself. Jan had disappointed all her hopes. As for Jan's hopes, she did not ask herself