88 FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 



he broke into a loud and brutal laugh. "Do you know when your husband 

 will come back to you, Mistress Colburn? It will be when you have finished 

 this life and gone into a different world. There will be other seas and other 

 skies, other men and other women about you in the world where you will 

 meet David Colburn, and you will have to wait long!" 



The young wife smiled serenely through the calm pallor of her face. 



"Wherever he may be it will be well with him, you may be sure of that," 

 she said. 



"Even if it be at the bottom of the sea? " retorted Kenneth. "Well, 

 well. Mistress Janet, I bide my time. You refused me once, when I asked 

 you to be my wife ; be sure I shall not ask you now when you are a widow ! " 



Before she could interrupt him he went on in a wild whirl of raging words. 



"Who was it sent your husband out in that craft? The owners, ay! but 

 /moved them to it. It was my work ; and if, some fine morning, the crew 

 wake to find themselves sinking, with a wild sea rushing in, and no help 

 near, why, that will be my work, too!" 



Was the man mad that he should say this thing? What was it he meant? 

 Was it truth — had he meant to scuttle the vessel — or was it only a threat? 

 Most likely only that ; a threat to frighten her— her, a helpless, lonely woman. 



She pointed to the door. "You have forgotten God!" was her grand 

 reply. "My husband is in the hands of One whom even the seas obey. 

 God will watch over him. Now go!" 



He smiled a wicked smile. "I wish you a good evening. Mistress Col- 

 burn. Meanwhile, your bread is burning. You had better take it up, for 

 you know you can't burn your bread and eat it too." 



He shut the door and went out into the clear night ; too clear and calm 

 and sweet for such a man as he to enjoy, walking among its vines and nod- 

 ding flowers, looking up into its blue heaven to the far mystery of its stars. 



Meanwhile, she who was left in the little consecrated home, holding the 

 darling heads of her children to her breast, watched and waited and prayed 

 through lonely hours. "If that man's story were true — but no! it was not 

 true — it was a threat, a trumped-up story — prompted by jealous rage." 



"O David!" she cried, "the very storms are kind to thee ; they pass thee 

 by, not harming one so kind and good." 



But she watched the sea, the clouds, the heavens, as she had never done 

 before. She waited for news that came not : and then a morning came 

 when she awoke to find the rain pouring, the wind tearing, the sea plunging 

 and the black sky wracked with stormy clouds. 



"David," she moaned, falling on her knees, "David, where art thou? O, 

 my husband, will the sea take thee, leaving me uncomforted?" 



But the sea had no answer for her. The husband on whom she called 



