“I would I were with my father and Snorro,” he said, regretfully.
“Would thou then leave me, Jan?”
“Ay, I would leave thee, mother. I would leave thee, and love thee, as my father does. I could stand by my father’s side, I could fire a gun, or reef a sail, as well as Snorro. I would not be afraid of any thing; no, I would not. It is such a long, long time till a boy grows up to be a man! When I am a man, thou shall see that I will have a ship of my own.”
It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy we face the storm and defy it. Margaret 305 never thought of the snow as any impediment. She went first to Suneva, and then to Dr. Balloch with her letter; and she was so full of happiness that she did not notice the minister was very silent and preoccupied. After a little, he said, “Margaret, I must go now to Tulloch; it has come to the last.”
“Well, then, I think he will be glad. He has suffered long and sorely.”
“Yet a little while ago he was full of life, eager for money, impatient of all who opposed him. Thou knowest how hard it often was to keep peace between him and thy father. Now he has forgotten the things that once so pleased him; his gold, his houses, his boats, his business, have dropped from his heart, as the toys drop from the hand of a sleepy child.”
“Father went to see him a week ago.”
“There is perfect peace between them now. Thy father kissed him when they said ‘good-by.’ When they meet again, they will have forgotten all the bitterness, they will remember only that they lived in the same town, and worshiped in the same church, and were companions in the same life. This morning we are 306 going to eat together the holy bread; come thou with me.”
As they walked through the town the minister spoke to a group of fishers, and four from among them silently followed him. Tulloch was still in his chair, and his three servants stood beside him. The table was spread, the bread was broken, and, with prayers and tears, the little company ate it together. Then they bade each other farewell, a farewell tranquil and a little sad—said simply, and without much speaking. Soon afterward Tulloch closed his eyes and the minister and Margaret watched silently beside him. Only once again the dying man spoke. He appeared to be sleeping heavily, but his lips suddenly moved and he said: “We shall see Nanna to-morrow!”
“We!” whispered Margaret. “Whom does he mean?”