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Jan Vedder's Wife

Jan Vedder's Wife

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Jan Vedder's Wife, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr

Title: Jan Vedder's Wife

Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr

Release Date: April 26, 2010 [eBook #32144]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAN VEDDER'S WIFE***

 

E-text prepared by Katherine Ward
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)

 

Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive/American Libraries. See http://www.archive.org/details/janvedderswife00barrrich

 


 

 

 

JAN VEDDER’S WIFE

BY
AMELIA E. BARR


NEW YORK:
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS.

Copyright, 1885
BY
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY


CONTENTS.

Chapter I.—Jan’s Wedding. 1
Chapter II.—A Little Cloud in the Sky. 17
Chapter III.—Jan’s Opportunity. 36
Chapter IV.—The Desolated Home. 54
Chapter V.—Shipwreck. 74
Chapter VI.—Margaret’s Heart. 94
Chapter VII.—The Man at Death’s Door. 116
Chapter VIII.—Death and Change. 140
Chapter IX.—Jan at His Post. 167
Chapter X.—Sweet Home. 193
Chapter XI.—Snorro Is Wanted. 228
Chapter XII.—Snorro and Jan. 252
Chapter XIII.—Little Jan’s Triumph. 275
Chapter XIV.—Jan’s Return. 297
Chapter XV.—Labor and Rest. 317


CHAPTER I.

JAN’S WEDDING.

“Eastward, afar, the coasts of men were seen

Dim, shadowy, and spectral; like a still

Broad land of spirits lay the vacant sea

Beneath the silent heavens—here and there,

Perchance, a vessel skimmed the watery waste,

Like a white-winged sea-bird, but it moved

Too pale and small beneath the vail of space.

There, too, went forth the sun

Like a white angel, going down to visit

The silent, ice-washed cloisters of the Pole.”

—Richter’s “Titan.”

More than fifty years ago this thing happened: Jan Vedder was betrothed to Margaret Fae. It was at the beginning of the Shetland summer, that short interval of inexpressible beauty, when the amber sunshine lingers low in the violet skies from week to week; and the throstle and the lark sing at midnight, 2 and the whole land has an air of enchantment, mystic, wonderful, and far off.

In the town of Lerwick all was still, though it was but nine o’clock; for the men were at the ling-fishing, and the narrow flagged street and small quays were quite deserted. Only at the public fountain there was a little crowd of women and girls, and they sat around its broad margin, with their water pitchers and their

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