“Snorro!”
It was Peter calling, and calling angrily; but ere Snorro answered the summons he went with Margaret to the door, and as he opened it, said, “If I can help thee, for Jan’s sake I am on thy side.”
Very hard and bitter and cold was the walk homeward. The snow fell thick and fast, and she was tired and faint when she reached the house. Never had its warmth and comfort seemed so good to her. How could she feel kindly to the woman who had robbed her and her child of their right in it? Every one must have noticed that when they are in trouble, the weather is usually their enemy. A very long and severe snow-storm followed Margaret’s useless effort. She had perforce to sit still, and for “little Jan’s” sake be grateful for the warmth and shelter given her.
“Little Jan” Snorro had unconsciously named the child. Several attempts had been made to do so, but somehow all had hitherto failed. At first “Peter” had been thought of; but Peter Fae had not taken kindly to a Peter Vedder, and the name after a few half-hearted utterances had been dropped. Thora had longed to call him “Willie,” but at her death the scarcely recognized name was given up. But Snorro’s tender, positive “little Jan” had settled the matter in Margaret’s mind. Henceforward the boy was to be called by his father’s name, and she cared not whether it were liked or not.
To Margaret the winter passed drearily away. She refused to have any part in Suneva’s hospitalities, though the “Fae House” became during it as famous for its gayety, as it had been in Thora’s time for its quiet and seclusion. Suneva had no idea of being the mistress of a shut up house. She was proud of her large rooms and fine furniture, and anxious to exhibit them. Besides which, she was in her element as hostess of the cozy tea-party or the merry dance.
Fortunately for her peaceful success, Peter discovered that he had the same taste. It had 209 lain dormant and undeveloped during his struggle for wealth, and in the quiet content of Thora’s atmosphere; but every circumstance now favored its growth, and he became quite as proud of his name as a generous and splendid host, as he was of his character as a keen and successful trader.
He was still a handsome man, fresh and active, carrying his fifty-eight years with all the dignity of conscious independence and assured position. It was Suneva’s great pride that she had induced him to wear the fine cloth and velvet and linen suitable to his wealth. She flattered him into many an extravagance; she persuaded him that no one in the Islands could recite as well, or dance with more activity and grace. Under her influence Peter renewed his youth and enjoyed it. Margaret often heard them planning some entertainment, and laughing over it, with all the zest of twenty years.
To her, their whole life seemed an outrage. She could not imagine how her father could bear to put aside so completely his old habits and memories. It wounded her to see him going off with a joke and a kiss to the store in the morning; and hurrying back at night, as 210 eager as a boy-bridegroom for the company of his handsome wife and her gay friends. It may easily be understood that even if Margaret had countenanced Suneva’s festivities by her presence at them, she would have been only a silent and a reproachful guest.
It is but fair to say that Suneva gave to her absence the best and kindest excuse. “Poor Margaret!” she said pitifully, “she weeps constantly for her husband. Few wives are as faithful.”