“Yes, it is so. I was in the store when thy little Jan and his companions came there with the gold given them, and when the sovereigns had been changed and every boy had got his shilling, I said to thy father, ‘Come home with me, for Margaret is at thy house, and great joy has come to it to-day.’”
Then he told again the whole story, and read aloud Jan’s letters; and Peter and Suneva were so amazed and interested, that they begged the minister to stay all day, and talk of the subject with them. And the good man cheerfully consented, for it delighted him to see Margaret and Suneva busy together, making the dinner and the tea, and sharing pleasantly the household cares that women like to exercise for those they love or respect. He looked at them, and then he looked at Peter, and the two men understood each other, without a word.
By and by, little Jan, hungry and weary with excitement, came seeking his mother, and his presence added the last element of joy to the reunited family. The child’s eager curiosity 291 kept up until late the interest in the great subject made known that day to Peter and Suneva. For to Norsemen, slavery is the greatest of all earthly ills, and Peter’s eyes flashed with indignation, and he spoke of Snorro not only with respect, but with something also like a noble envy of his privileges.
“If I had twenty years less, I would man a ship of mine own, and go to the African coast as a privateer, I would that. What a joy I should give my two hands in freeing the captives, and hanging those slavers in a slack rope at the yard-arm.”
“Nay, Peter, thou would not be brutal.”
“Yes, I would be a brute with brutes; that is so, my minister. Even St. James thinks as I do—‘He shall have judgment without mercy that showeth no mercy.’ That is a good way, I think. I am glad Snorro hath gone to look after them. I would be right glad if he had Thor’s hammer in his big hands.”
“He hath a Lancaster gun, Peter.”
“But that is not like seeing the knife redden in the hand. Oh, no!”
“Peter, we are Christians, and not heathens.”
“I am sorry if the words grieve thee. Often 292 I have wondered why David wrote some of the hard words he did write. I wonder no more. He wrote them against the men who sell human life for gold. If I was Jan Vedder, I would read those words every morning to my men. The knife that is sharpened on the word of God, cuts deep—that is so.”