out four days with a company of Englishmen as guide to the Geysers, and on his return he idled four weeks on the wharves, looking at the foreign seamen as they arrived by the boats. The fame of his exploit at Thingvellir had brought him a troop of admirers, and what he wanted for his pleasure he never lacked. But necessity began to touch him at home, and then he hinted to Rachel that her father was rich. She had borne his indifference to her degradation, she had not murmured at the idleness that pinched them, but at that word something in her heart seemed to break. She bent her head and said nothing. He went on to hint that she should go to her father, who, seeing her need, would surely forgive her. Then her proud spirit could brook no more. "Rather than darken my father's doors again," she said, "I will starve on a crust of bread and a drop of water."
Things did not mend, and Stephen began to cast down his eyes in shame when Rachel looked at him. Never a word of blame she spoke, but he reproached himself and talked of his old mother at Stappen. She was the only one who could do any good with him. She knew him, and did not spare him. When she was near he worked sometimes, and did not drink too much. He must send for her.
Rachel raised no obstacle, and one day the old mother came, perched on a bony, ragged-eared pony, and with all her belongings on the pack behind her. She was a little, hard-featured woman; and at the first sight of her seamed and blotted face Rachel's spirit sank.
The old woman was active and restless. Two days after her arrival she was at work at her old trade of splitting and drying stock-fish. All the difference that the change had made for her was that she was working on the beach at Reykjavík instead of the beach at Stappen, and living with her son and her son's wife instead of alone.
Her coming did not better the condition of Rachel. She had measured her new daughter-in law from head to foot at their first meeting, and neither smiled nor kissed her. She was devoted to her son, and no woman was too good for him. Her son had loved her, and Rachel had come between them. The old woman made up her mind to hate the girl, because her fine manners and comely face were a daily rebuke to her own coarse habits and homely looks, and an hourly contrast always present to Stephen's eyes.
Stephen was as idle as ever, and less ashamed of his sloth
