Going to the church, the procession preserved the gravity of a religious rite; but on the return, some one touched lightly the strings of a violin, and, in a moment, hundreds of voices were chanting:
“It is often that I have said it: In the night thou art my dream, and my waking thought in the morning.
“I loved thee always; not for three months, not for a year, but I loved thee from the first, and my love shall not wither, until death part us.
“Oh, my beloved! My wife! Dearer to me than the light of the day! Closer to me than my hands and feet! Nothing but death shall part thee and me, forever!”
The singing opened their hearts; then came the feast and the dance, that endless active dance which is the kind of riot in which grave races give vent to the suppressed excitement of their lives. It did not please Margaret; she was soon weary of the noise and commotion, and heartily glad when, on the eve of the third day, she was called upon to give the parting toast:
“Here’s to the men who cast the net, and the long line,” she cried, lifting the silver cup above her head. “And may He hold His hand about them all, and open the mouth of the gray fish!”
“And here’s to the bride,” answered the oldest fisher present, “and may God give her a blessing in both hands!”
Then they separated, and some went to their homes in Lerwick and Scalloway, and others sailed to Ireland and Scotland, and even Holland; but Peter knew that however much the feast had cost him, it was money put out at good interest, and that he would be very likely to find it again at the next fishing season.