d have so bound her to him. He had sealed his command with that
kiss, and though no word of promise was given him, he went to his
store comparatively light-hearted; he was certain his daughter would
not disobey him.

While this scene was transpiring, one far more pathetic was taking
place in Snorro's room. Jan's clothes had been washed and mended, and
he was dressing himself with an anxious desire to look well in his
wife's eyes that was almost pitiful. Snorro sat watching him. Two
women could hardly have been more interested in a toilet, or tried
harder to make the most out of poor and small materials. Then Jan left
his letter to Margaret with Snorro, and went to the cave agreed upon,
to await the answer.

Very soon after Peter reached the store, Snorro left it. Peter saw him
go, and he suspected his errand, but he knew the question had to be
met and settled, and he felt almost sure of Margaret that morning. At
any rate, she would have to decide, and the sooner the better.
Margaret saw Snorro coming, but she never associated the visit with
Jan. She thought her father had forgotten something and sent Snorro
for it. So when he knocked, she said instantly, "Come in, Michael
Snorro."

The first thing Snorro saw was the child. He went straight to the
cradle and looked at it. Then he kneeled down, gently lifted the small
hand outside the coverlet, and kissed it. When he rose up, his face
was so full of love and delight that Margaret almost forgave him every
thing. "How beautiful he is," he whispered, looking back at the
sleeping babe.

Margaret smiled; she was well pleased at Snorro's genuine admiration.

"And he is so like Jan--only Jan is still more beautiful."

Margaret did not answer him. She was washing the china cups, and she
stood at the table with a towel over her arm. Snorro thought her more
beautiful than she had been on her wedding day. During her illness,
most of her hair had been cut off, and now a small white cap covered
her head, the short, pale-brown curls just falling beneath it on her
brow and on her neck. A long, dark dress, a white apron, and a white
lawn kerchief pinned over her bosom, completed her attire. But no lady
in silk or lace ever looked half so womanly. Snorro stood gazing at
her, until she said, "Well, then, what hast thou come for?"

With an imploring gesture he offered her Jan's letter.

She took it in her hand and turned it over, and over, and over. Then,
with a troubled face, she