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 any questions about
them. She looked around the handsome home she had given him; she
considered the profitable business which might have been his on her
father's retirement or death; and she thought a man must be wicked who
could regard lightly such blessings. As she passed a glass she gazed
upon her own beauty with a mournful smile and thought anew, how
unworthy of all Jan had been.

At daybreak she began to put carefully away such trifles of
household decoration as she valued most. Little ornaments bought in
Edinburgh, pieces of fancy work done in her school days, fine china,
or glass, or napery. She had determined to lock up the house and go to
her father's until Jan returned. Then he would be obliged to come for
her, and in any dispute she would at least have the benefit of a
strong position. Even with this thought, full as it was of the most
solemn probabilities, there came into her niggardly