calculations the
consideration of its economy. She would not only save all the expenses
of housekeeping, but all her time could be spent in making fine
knitted goods, and a great many garments might thus be prepared
before the annual fair.

This train of ideas suggested her bank book. That must certainly go
with her, and a faint smile crossed her face as she imagined the
surprise of her father and mother at the amount it vouched for--that
was, if she concluded to tell them. She went for it; of course it was
gone. At first she did not realize the fact; then, as the possibility
of its loss smote her, she trembled with terror, and hurriedly turned
over and over the contents of the drawer. "_Gone!_" She said it with a
quick, sharp cry, like that of a woman mortally wounded. She could
find it nowhere, and after five minutes' search, she sat down upon her
bedside, and abandoned herself to agonizing grief.

Yes, it was pitiable. She had begun the book with pennies saved from
sweeties and story-books, from sixpences, made by knitting through
hours when she would have liked to play. The ribbons and trinkets of
her girlhood and maidenhood were in it, besides many a little comfort
that Jan and herself had been defrauded of. Her hens had laid for it,
her geese been plucked for it, her hands had constantly toiled for it.
It had been the idol upon the hearthstone to which had been offered up
the happiness of her youth, and before which love lay slain.

At first its loss was all she could take in, but very quickly she
began to connect the loss with Jan, and with the L600 he had asked her
to get for him at their last conversation. With this conviction her
tears ceased, her face grew hard and white as ice. If Jan had used her
money she was sure that she would never speak to him, never see him
again. At that hour she almost hated him. He was only the man who had
taken her L600. She forgot that he had been her lover and her husband.
As soon as she could control herself she fled to her father's house,
and kneeling down by Peter's side sobbed out the trouble that had
filled her cup to overflowing.

This was a sorrow Peter could heartily sympathize with. He shed tears
of anger and mortification, as he wiped away those of his daughter. It
was a great grief to him that he could not prosecute Jan for theft.
But he was quite aware that the law recognized Jan's entire right to
whatever was his wife's. Neither the father nor daughter remembere