or life or death, Jan Vedder; and my father and my mother they are
the witnesses;" and as she spoke, she went to Jan, and put her hands
in his, and Jan drew her proudly to his breast and kissed her.

Thora left the room without a glance at the lovers. Peter stood up,
and said angrily: "Enough, and more than enough has been said this
night. No, Jan; I will not put my palm against thine till we have
spoken together. There is more to a marriage than a girl's 'Yes', and
a wedding ring."

That was the manner of Jan's betrothal; and as he walked rapidly back
into the town, there came a feeling into his heart of not being quite
pleased with it. In spite of Margaret's affection and straightforward
decision, he felt humiliated.

"It is what a man gets who wooes a rich wife," he muttered; "but I
will go and tell Michael Snorro about it." And he smiled at the
prospect, and hurried onward to Peter's store.

For Michael Snorro lived there. The opening to the street was closed;
but the one facing the sea was wide open; and just within it, among
the bags of feathers and swans' down, the piles of seal skins, the
barrels of whale oil, and of sea-birds' eggs, and the casks of smoked
geese, Michael was sitting. The sea washed the warehouse walls, and
gurgled under the little pier, that extended from the door, but it was
the only sound there was. Michael, with his head in his hands, sat
gazing into the offing where many ships lay at anchor. At the sound of
Jan's voice his soul sprang into his face for a moment, and he rose,
trembling with pleasure, to meet him.

In all his desolate life, no one had loved Michael Snorro. A suspicion
that "he was not all there," and therefore "one of God's bairns," had
insured him, during his long orphanage, the food, and clothes, and
shelter, necessary for life; but no one had given him love. And
Michael humbly acknowledged that he could not expect it, for nature
had been cruelly unkind to him. He was, indeed, of almost gigantic
size, but awkward and ill-proportioned. His face, large and flat, had
the whiteness of clay, except at those rare intervals when his soul
shone through it; and no mortal, but Jan Vedder, had ever seen that
illumination.

It would be as hard to tell why Michael loved Jan as to say why
Jonathan's soul clave to David as soon as he saw him. Perhaps it was
an unreasonable affection, but it was one passing the love of woman,
and, after all, can we guess how the two men may have bee