He began his devotions in the spirit of Christ, but they ended always in a passionate arraignment of Bele Trenby through the psalms of David. These wondrously human measures got Liot’s heart in their grip; he wept them and prayed them and lived them until their words blended with all his thoughts and speech; through them he grew “familiar” with God, as Job and David and Jonah were familiar–a reverent familiarity. Liot ventured to tell Him all that he had to suffer from Bele–the lies that he could not refute, the insolences he could not return, his restricted intercourse with Karen, and the loss of that frank fellowship with such of his townsmen as had business reasons for not quarreling with Bele.
So matters went on, and the feeling grew no better, but worse, between the men. When the devil could not find a man to irritate Bele and Liot, then he found Matilda Sabiston always ready to speak for him. She twitted Bele with his prudences, and if she met Liot on the street she complimented him on his patience, and prophesied for Karen a “lowly mannered husband, whom she could put under her feet.”
One day in October affairs all round were at their utmost strain. The summer was over, and Bele was not likely to make the Shetland coast often till after March. His talk was of the French and Dutch ports and their many attractions. And Matilda was cross at the prospect of losing her favorite’s society, and unjustly inclined to blame Bele for his want of success with her niece.
“Talk if you want to, Bele,” she said snappishly, “of the pretty women in France and Holland. You are, after all, a great dreamer, and you don’t dream true; the fisherman Liot can win where you lose.”
Then Bele said some words about Liot, and Matilda laughed. Bele thought the laugh full of scorn; so he got up and left the house in a passion, and Matilda immediately turned on Karen.
“Ill luck came with you, girl,” she cried, “and I wish that Christmas was here and that you were out of my house.”
“No need to wait till Christmas, aunt; I will go away now and never come back.”
“I shall be glad of that.”
“Paul Borson will give me shelter until I move into my own house.”
“Then we shall be far apart. I shall not be sorry, for our chimneys may smoke the better for it.”