For two months, full of quiet joy, Jan and Margaret occupied their old home. They were almost as much alone as in their honeymoon; for little Jan spent most of his time with his friend Snorro, on board "The Lapwing." Snorro had been much pleased to join his old mates in the fishing boats, but he could not bear to put off, even for a day, his uniform. However, Jan and he and little Jan often sailed in advance of the fleet, and found the herring, and brought word back what course to steer. For this knowledge was a kind of instinct with Jan; he could stand and look east and west, north and south, and then by some occult premonition, strike the belt of fish.
Never had Jan dreamed of such happiness as came at last to him in that humble home of his early married life. It was a late harvest of joy, but it was a sure one. Margaret had wept tears of fond regret in all its rooms; its hearth had been an altar of perpetual repentance to her. But the sorrow had been followed by the joy of forgiveness, and the bliss of re-union. Its walls now echoed the fond words of mutual trust and affection, and the hearty communings of friendship. There was no stint in its hospitality; no worry over trivial matters.
Margaret had learned that in true marriage the wife must give as well as take--give love and forbearance, and help and comfort.
Jan"s and Snorro"s visit was a kind of festival for Lerwick. Though it was the busy season, Peter and Suneva kept open house. Never had Peter been so generous both in friendship and in business; never had Suneva dressed so gayly, or set such plenteous feasts. She was very proud of Margaret"s position, and paid her unconsciously a vast respect; but she opened all her warm heart to little Jan, and every thing that was hers she determined to give him.
Dr. Balloch, in his quiet way, enjoyed the visit equally. He went very often to sea in the yacht with Jan and Snorro, and, in the happy intercourse with them, the long days were short ones to him. He saw the full fruition of his faith and charity, and was satisfied.
Fortunately, after this event Jan was never very long away at one time. Until the Russian war he made short cruises in the African seas, and Snorro had many opportunities of realizing the joy of liberating the slave, and punishing the oppressor. In the toil and suffering of the Crimea, Jan and Snorro bore their part bravely. Jan had charge of a naval brigade formed of contingents from the ships of the allied fleets. No men did a greater variety of duties or behaved more gallantly than these blue jackets on sh.o.r.e. They dragged the heavy guns from their ships, and they fought in the batteries. They carried the scaling ladders in a.s.saults. They landed the stores. They cheerfully worked as common laborers on that famous road between Balaclava and Sebastopol, for they knew that on its completion depended the lives of the brave men famishing and dying on the heights.
But after many happy, busy years, Jan came home one day and found only Margaret to welcome him. His son Jan was commanding his own vessel in Australian waters; his son Peter was in the East Indies. His daughters" homes were far apart, Margaret, with fast silvering hair, and the heavy step of advancing years, longed greatly for the solace and strength of his constant presence; and Jan confessed that he was a little weary of the toil, and even of the glory of his life.
The fact once admitted, the desire for retirement grew with its discussion. In a little while Jan and Snorro returned to Shetland for the evening of their lives. They had been twenty years away, but Lerwick was very little changed. The old world had not been invaded by the new one. Here and there the busy spirit of the age had left a finger-mark; no more. The changes were mostly those which under any circ.u.mstances would have come. Doctor Balloch had finished his work, and gone to his reward. Peter"s store was in another name, but Peter, though a very old man, was bright and hale, and quite able to take an almost childlike interest in all Jan"s plans and amus.e.m.e.nts.
At first Jan thought of occupying himself with building a fine new house; but after he had been a week in Shetland, his ambitious project seemed almost ridiculous. He noticed also that Margaret"s heart clung to her old home, the plain little house in which she had suffered, and enjoyed, and learned so much. So he sat down contentedly on the hearth from which he began a life whose troubled dawning had been succeeded by a day so brilliant, and an evening so calm.
Snorro, never far away, and never long away, from his "dear captain,"
his "dear Jan," bought the little cottage in which he had once lived.
There he hung again the pictured Christ, and there he arranged, in his own way, all the treasures he had gathered during his roving life.
Snorro"s house was a wonderful place to the boys of Lerwick. They entered it with an almost awful delight. They sat hour after hour, listening to the kind, brave, good man, in whom every child found a friend and comforter. His old mates also dearly loved to spend their evenings with Snorro, and hear him tell about the dangers he had pa.s.sed through, and the deeds he had done.
How fair! how calm and happy was this evening of a busy day! Yet in its sweet repose many a voice from the outside world reached the tired wayfarers. There were frequent letters from Jan"s children, and they came from all countries, and brought all kinds of strange news. There were rare visits from old friends, messages and tokens of remembrance, and numerous books and papers that kept for them the echoes of the places they had left.
Neither did they feel the days long, or grow weary with inaction. Jan and Snorro, like the majority of men, whose life-work is finished, conceived a late but ardent affection for their mother earth. They each had gardens and small hot-houses, and they were always making experiments with vegetables and flowers. It was wonderful how much pleasure they got out of the patches of ground they tried to beautify.
Then the fishing season always renewed their youth. The boats in which Jan or Snorro took a place were the lucky boats, and often both men sat together during the watch, as they had done long years before, and talked softly in the exquisite Shetland night of all the good that had come to them.
For the companionship between these two souls grew closer and fonder as they drew nearer to the heavenly horizon. They were more and more together, they walked the long watches again, and fought over their battles, and recalled the hours which had been link after link in that chain of truest love which had bound their hearts and lives together.
And Margaret, still beautiful, with hair as white as snow, and a face as fair and pink as a pale rose-leaf, sat smiling, and listening, and knitting beside them; no fears in any of their hearts to beat away, no strife to heal, the past unsighed for, the future sure, they made a picture of old age, well won,
"Serene and bright And lovely as a Shetland night."