He had been considered a rich man in Orkney, and, therefore, Ronald—­who had become accustomed to a Glasgow standard of wealth—­was much disappointed.  His whole estate was not worth over six thousand pounds; about two thousand pounds of this was in gold, the rest was invested in his houses in Kirkwall, and in a little cottage in Stromness, where Peter’s wife had been born.  He gave to Ronald L1800, and to Margaret L200 and the life rent of the real property.  Ronald had already received L1400, and, therefore, had no cause of complaint, but somehow he felt as if he had been wronged.  He was older than his sister, and the son of the house, and use and custom were not in favor of recognizing daughters as having equal rights.  But he kept such thoughts to himself, and when he went back to Glasgow took with him solid proof of his sister’s devotion.

It was necessary, now, for Margaret to make a great change in her life.  She determined to remove to Stromness and occupy the little four-roomed cottage that had been her mother’s.  It stood close to that of Geordie Twatt, and she felt that in any emergency she was thus sure of one faithful friend.  “A lone woman” in Margaret’s position has in these days numberless objects of interest of which Margaret never dreamed.  She would have thought it a kind of impiety to advise her minister, or meddle in church affairs.  These simple parents attended themselves to the spiritual training of their children—­there was no necessity for Sunday Schools, and they did not exist.  She was not one of those women whom their friends call “beings,” and who have deep and mysterious feelings that interpret themselves in poems and thrilling stories.  She had no taste for philosophy or history or social science, and had been taught to regard novels as dangerously sinful books.

But no one need imagine that she was either wretched or idle.  In the first place, she took life much more calmly and slowly than we do; a very little pleasure or employment went a long way.  She read her Bible and helped her old servant Helga to keep the house in order.  She had her flowers to care for,—­and her brother and lover to write to.  She looked after Geordie Twatt’s little motherless lads, went to church and to see her friends, and very often had her friends to see her.  It happened to be a very stormy winter, and the mails were often delayed for weeks together.  This was her only trouble.  Ronald’s letters were more and more unsatisfactory; he was evidently unhappy and dissatisfied and heartily tired of his new study.  Posts were so irregular that often their letters seemed to be playing at cross purposes.  She determined as soon as spring opened to go and have a straightforward talk with him.

So the following June Geordie Twatt took her in his boat to Thurso, where Captain Thorkald was waiting for her.  They had not met since Peter Sinclair’s death, and that event had materially affected their prospects.  Before it their marriage had been a possible joy in some far future; now there was no greater claim on her care and love than the captain’s, and he urged their early marriage.