“But thou wilt work in the store this winter?”
“That I will not. I will work for no man who cheats me of a third of my hire.”
“It is of my father thou art speaking, Jan Vedder; remember that. And Peter Fae’s daughter is thy wife, though little thou deservest her.”
“It is like enough that I am unworthy of thee; but if I had chosen a wife less excellent than thou it had perhaps been better for me.”
“And for me also.”
That was the beginning of a sad end; for Jan, though right enough at first, soon put himself in the wrong, as a man who is idle, and has a grievance, is almost sure to do. He continually talked about it. On the contrary, Peter held his tongue, and in any quarrel the man who can be silent in the end has the popular sympathy. Then, in some way or other, Peter Fae touched nearly every body in Lerwick. He gave them work, or he bought their produce. They owed him money, or they expected a favor from him. However much they sympathized with Jan, they could not afford to quarrel with Peter.
Only Michael Snorro was absolutely and purely true to him; but oh, what truth there was in Michael! Jan’s wrongs were his wrongs; Jan’s anger was but the reflection of his own.
He watched over him, he sympathized with him, he loved him entirely, with a love “wonderful, passing the love of woman.”