rning away when
Jan, in a voice full of misery, uttered one word:

"Water!"

Something womanly in her responded to the pitiful, helpless cry. She
went back, and kneeling by his side, put the bottle to his mouth. The
touch of his head upon her arm stirred her strangely; ere she let it
slip from her hold, he had fainted.

"Oh Jan! Jan! Jan! My husband! My husband! Oh Jan, dear, forgive me!
Jan, I am here! It is thy Margaret! I still love thee! Yes, indeed, I
love thee!--"

But it was too late. There was no response. She looked in horror and
terror at the white face at her feet. Then she fled back to the house
for help. Whether her father liked it or not, Jan must now be brought
there. In that last moment she had forgiven him every thing. All the
love of her betrothal had come like a great wave over her heart. "Poor
Jan! Poor Jan!" she sobbed, as she fled like a deer across the moor.

Peter had been roused and had reluctantly dressed himself. In such an
hour of extremity he would have to give the wounded man shelter if he
were brought there. But he tarried as long as possible, hoping that
Snorro would remove Jan and take him into the town. To be roused from
sleep to confront such a problem of duty was a very unpleasant affair,
and Peter was sulkily tying his shoe-strings when Margaret, breathless
and sobbing, returned for him.

Her impetuosity and her emotion quite mastered him. She compelled him
to go with her to Jan. But when they reached the Troll Rock Jan had
disappeared. There was nothing there but the blue sailor's cap which
he had worn. No human being was in sight. Any party of relief brought
by Snorro could be seen for a mile. Margaret picked up the cap, and
gazed at it in a maze of anguish. Only one thing could have happened.
During her absence consciousness had returned to Jan, and he, poor
soul, remembering her cruel words, and seeing that she had left him
there alone to die, had purposely edged himself over the cliff. The
sea was twenty feet deep below it. She put her hands before her eyes,
and shrieked until the welkin rang with her shrill, piercing cries.
Peter could do nothing with her, she would not listen to him, and
finally she became so frantically hysterical that he was alarmed for
her life and reason, and had little opportunity that night to make any
inquiries about his troublesome son-in-law.

Now, when God will help a man, he hath his own messenger. That night,
Doctor Balloch sat in the open