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diff --git a/29909.txt b/29909.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4947ad8 --- /dev/null +++ b/29909.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10241 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Singer from the Sea, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Singer from the Sea + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Release Date: September 4, 2009 [EBook #29909] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SINGER FROM THE SEA *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + A SINGER FROM THE SEA + + by + AMELIA E. BARR + + AUTHOR OF "JAN VEDDER'S WIFE," "THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON," "FRIEND + OLIVIA," ETC., ETC. + + + NEW YORK + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + Copyright, 1893, by + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. DENAS PENELLES 1 + II. OH, THE PITY OF IT! 22 + III. THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA 41 + IV. THE SEED OF CHANGE 59 + V. WHAT SHALL BE DONE FOR ROLAND? 77 + VI. ELIZABETH AND DENAS 95 + VII. IS THERE ANY SORROW LIKE LOVING? 115 + VIII. A SEA OF SORROW 138 + IX. A PIECE OF MONEY AND A SONG 161 + X. A VISIT TO ST. PENFER 181 + XI. FATHERLY AND MOTHERLY 199 + XII. A COWARDLY LOVE 225 + XIII. DEATH IS DAWN 251 + XIV. SORROW BRINGS US ALL HOME 272 + XV. ONLY FRIENDS 295 + XVI. THE "DARLING DENAS" 314 + XVII. DENAS 331 + + + + +A SINGER FROM THE SEA. + + +CHAPTER I. + +DENAS PENELLES. + + "'Tell me, my old friend, tell me why + You sit and softly laugh by yourself.' + 'It is because I am repeating to myself, + Write! write + Of the valiant strength, + The calm, brave bearing + Of the sons of the sea.'" + --FRENCH ROWING SONG + + "And that is why I have written this book + Of the things that live in your noble hearts. + You are really the authors of it. + I have only put into words + The frank simplicity of your sailor life." + --GUILLAUME DE LA LAUDELLE. + + +From Padstow Point to Lundy Race is one of the wildest and grandest +portions of the Cornish coast, and on it there is always somewhere a +tossing sea, a stiff breeze above, and a sucking tide below. Great +cliffs hundreds of feet high guard it, and from the top of them the +land rolls away in long ridges, brown and bare. These wild and rocky +moors, full of pagan altars, stone crosses, and memorials of the Jew, +the Phoenician, and the Cornu-British, are the land of our childhood's +fairy-folk--the home of Blunderbore and of Jack the Giant Killer, and +the far grander + + "Fable of Bellerus old, + And the great vision of the Guarded Mount." + +But it is the Undercliff which has the perennial charm for humanity, +for all along its sloping face there are bewildering hummocks and +hollows, checkered with purple rocks and elder-trees. Narrow footpaths +curve in and out and up and down among the fields and farms, the +orchards and the glimmering glades, and there the foxgloves grow so +tall that they lift their dappled bells level with the eyes. + +Further down are queer, quiet towns, hundreds of years old, +squeezed into the mouths of deep valleys--valleys full of delicate +ferns and small wild roses and the white heath, a flower peculiar to +the locality. And still lower--on the very shingle--are the +amphibious-looking cottages of the fishermen. They are surrounded +by nets and boats and lobster-pots. Noisy children paddle in the +flowing tide, and large, brown, handsome women sit on the door-steps +knitting the blue guernsey shirts and stockings which their husbands +wear. + +Such a lonely, lovely spot is the little village of St. Penfer. It is +so hidden in the clefts of the rocks that unless one had its secret +and knew the way of its labyrinth down the cliff-breast it would be +hard to find it from the landward side. But the fishermen see its +white houses and terraced gardens and hear the sweet-voiced bells of +its old church calling to them when they are far off upon the ocean. +And well they know their cottages clustered on the shingle below, and +all day they may be seen among them, mending their boats, or painting +their boats, or standing with their hands in their pockets looking at +their boats, fingering the while the bit of mountain ash which they +carry there to keep away ill-luck. + +John Penelles was occupied on the afternoon of that Saturday which +comes between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. His boat was +rocking on the tide-top and he seemed to be looking at her. But his +bright blue eyes saw nothing seaward; he was mentally watching the +flowery winding way up the cliff to St. Penfer. If his daughter Denas +was coming down it he would hear her footsteps in his heart. And why +did she not come? She had been away four hours, and who knew what evil +might happen to a girl in four hours? When too late to forbid her +visit to St. Penfer, it had suddenly struck him that Roland Tresham +might be home for the Easter holidays, and he disliked the young man. +He had an intuitive dislike for him, founded upon that kind of "I +know" which is beyond reasoning with, and he had told Denas that +Roland Tresham was not for her to listen to and not for her to trust +to. + +"But there, then, 'tis dreadful! dreadful! What foolishness a little +maid will believe in!" he muttered. "I have never known but one woman +who can understand reason, and it isn't often she will listen to it. +Women! women! women! God bless them!" + +He was restless with his thoughts by the time they arrived at this +point, but it still took him a few minutes to decide upon some action +and then put his great bulk into motion. For he was a large man, even +among Cornish fishermen, and his feet were in his heavy fishing-boots, +and his nature was slow and irresolute until his mind was fully made +up. Then nothing could move him or turn him, and he acted with that +irresistible celerity which springs from an invincible determination. + +His cottage was not far off, and he went there. As he approached, a +woman rose from the steps and, with her knitting in her hand, went +inside. She was putting the kettle on the fire as he entered, and she +turned her head to smile upon him. It was a delightful smile, full of +love and pleasure, and she accompanied it with a little nod of her +head that meant any good thing he liked to ask of her. + +"Aw, my dear," he said, "I do think the little maid is a sight too +long away." + +"She do have a long walk, John dear. St. Penfer isn't at the +door-step, I'm sure." + +"You see, Joan, it is like this: Denas she be what she is, thank God! +but Roland Tresham, he be near to the quality, and they do say a great +scholar, and can speak langwidges; and aw, my dear, if rich and poor +do ride together the poor must ride behind, and a wayless way they +take through and over. I have seen that often and often." + +"We mustn't be quick to think evil, John, must we? I'm sure Denas do +know her place and her right, and she isn't one to be put down below +it. You do take a sight of trouble you aren't asked to take, father." + +"Do I, my dear?" + +"To be sure you do. And they that go seeking trouble are very like to +find it. Is Roland Tresham home again?" + +"Not as I know by certain. I haven't heard tell so." + +"There, now! How people do go thinking wrong of others instead of +themselves! That isn't the Bible way, is it, father?" + +"To be sure it isn't, Joan. But we aren't living among Bible people, +my dear, are we now?" + +"Well, I don't know that, father. Fisher-folk feature one another all +the world over as much as their lines and boats do. I think we could +find all those Galilean fishers among the fishers of Penfer. I do, +really--plenty of Peters and sons of Zebedee, I'll warrant. Are not +John and Jacob Tenager always looking to be high up in the chapel? And +poor Cruffs and Kestal, how they do deny all the week through what +they say on Sunday! And I know one quiet, modest Andrew who never +grumbles, but is alway content and happy when his brothers are +favoured above him." And she looked and smiled at her husband with +such loving admiration that the big fisherman felt the glow of the +look and smile warm his heart and flush his cheeks, and he hastened to +the tea-table, and was glad to be silent and enjoy the compliment his +dear Joan had given him. + +For Joan Penelles was not only a good wife, she was a pious, truthful, +sensible, patient woman. The days of her youthful beauty were over, +but her fine face left the heart satisfied with her. There was room in +her eyes, light upon her face, strength and mature grace in her tall +figure--the grace of a woman who has grown up like a forest tree in +fresh air and winds and liberty--the physical grace that never comes +by the dancing-master. And her print dress and white kerchief and +neatly braided hair seemed as much a part of her charm as the thatched +roof, the yellow stone-wort, and the dainty little mother of millions +creeping over the roof and walls were a part of the picturesque +cottage. The beauty of Joan Penelles was the beauty of fitness in +every part, of health, of good temper, of a certain spiritual +perception. Penelles loved her with a sure affection; he trusted in +her. In every strait of his life he went to her for comfort or advice. +He could not have imagined a single day without Joan to direct it. + +For his daughter Denas he had a love perhaps not stronger, but quite +different in kind. Denas was his only living child. Denas loved the +sea. Penelles could remember her small pink feet in the tide, when +they were baby feet scarce able to stand alone. As she grew older she +often begged to go to sea with the fishers, and on warm summer nights +she had lain in the boat, and talked to him and his mates, and sung +them such wild, sweet songs that the men vowed she charmed the fish +into the nets. For they had always wondrous takes when Denas leaned +over the gunwale, and in sweet, piercing notes sang the old +fishing-call: + + "Come, gray fish! gray fish! + Come from the gray cold sea! + Fathoms, fathoms deep is the wall of net. + Haddock! haddock! herring! herring! + Halibut! bass! whatever you be, + Fish! fish! fish! come pay your debt." + +And while the men listened to the shrill, imperative voice mingling +with the wash of the waves, and watched the child's long yellow hair +catching the glory of the moonlight, they let her lead them as she +would. She did not fear storms. It was her father who feared them for +her, though never after one night when she was twelve years old. + +"You cannot go to-night, Denas," he said; "the tide is late and the +wind is contrary." + +"Well, then," the little maid answered with decision, "the contrary +wind be God's wind. 'Twas whist poor speed the fishers were once +making--toiling and rowing--and the wind contrary, when He came +walking on the water and into the boat, and then, to be sure, all was +quiet enough." + +There were no words to dispute this position, and Denas went with the +fishers, and sat singing like a spirit while the boat kissed the wind +in her teeth. And anon the tide turned, and the wind changed, and +there was a lull, and so the nets were well shot, and they came back +to harbour before the breeze just at cock-light--that is, when the +cocks begin to crow for the dawning. + +Thus petted and loved, the pretty girl made her way into all hearts, +and when she said one day that she wanted to go to the school at St. +Penfer and learn all about the strange seas and the strange lands that +were in the world, her father and mother were quite thrilled by her +great ambition. But she had her desire, and for three years she went +to the private school at St. Penfer, and among the girls gathered +there made many friends. Chief among these was Elizabeth Tresham, the +daughter of a gentleman who had bought, with the salvage of a large +fortune, the small Cornish estate on which he lived, or rather fretted +away life in vain regrets over an irrevocable past. Elizabeth was his +only daughter, but he had a son who was much older than Elizabeth--a +handsome, gay young man about whom little was known in St. Penfer. + +That little was not altogether favourable. It was understood that he +painted pictures and played very finely on the piano, and every one +could see that he dressed in the most fashionable manner and that he +was handsome and light-hearted. But it could not be hid that he often +came for money, which old Mr. Tresham had sometimes to borrow in St. +Penfer for him. And business men noted the fact that his visits were +so erratic and frequently so long in duration that it was hardly +likely he had regular employment. And if a man had no private steady +income, then for him to be without steady daily labour was considered +in St. Penfer suspicious and not at all respectable. So in general +Roland Tresham was treated with a shy courtesy, which at first he +resented, but finally laughed at. + +"Squire Peverall is afraid of his daughter and barely returns my bow, +and the rector has sent his pretty Phyllis to St. Ives while I am +here, Elizabeth," he said one night to his sister. "Phyllis is well +enough, but she has not a shilling, and pray who would marry Clara +Peverall with only a paltry twenty thousand?" + +"Clara is a nice girl, Roland, and if you only would marry and settle +down to a reasonable life, how happy I should be." + +"Could I lead a more reasonable life, Elizabeth? I manage to get more +pleasure out of a hundred pounds than some men get out of their +thousands." + +"And father and I carry the care of it." + +"You are very foolish. Why carry care? I do not. I let the men to whom +I owe money carry the care." + +"But father cannot do that--nor can I. And to be in debt, in St. +Penfer, is disreputable." + +"Well, Elizabeth, is it reasonable that I should suffer for father's +and your inability to be happy, or for the antiquated notions of such +an antiquated town as St. Penfer? I am only twenty-nine, and the +pleasures of life are necessities to me." + +"I am only nineteen, Roland." + +"But then you are a girl--that is such a different thing." + +"Yes, it is a different thing," and Elizabeth laid down the piece of +linen she was stitching and looked up at the handsome fellow who was +leaning against the open window and puffing his cigar smoke out of it. +She had the English girl's adoration of the eldest son, and likewise +her natural submission to the masculine element. Besides which, she +loved Roland with all her simple faith and affection. She loved him +for his handsome self and his charming ways. She loved him because he +had been her mother's idol, and she had promised her mother never to +desert Roland. She loved him because he loved her in his own perfectly +selfish way. She was just as willing to bear his troubles, and plan +for their relief, and deny herself for his pleasure, as Roland was +willing to accept the sacrifice. Of course she was foolish, perhaps +sinfully foolish, and it is no excuse for her folly to admit that +there are thousands of women in the same transgression. + +In one of his visits to St. Penfer, about two years previous to this +Easter Eve, Roland Tresham had met Denas Penelles. At that time he had +been much interested in her. The little fisher-girl with her piquant +face, her strange haunting voice, and her singular self-possession was +a charming study. He made several sketches of her, he set her wild, +sweet fisher-songs to music, he lent her books to read, he talked to +her and Elizabeth of the wonderful London life which Elizabeth could +partly remember, but which was like a fairy-tale to Denas. + +Fortunately Elizabeth was jealous of her brother and jealous of her +friend, and she never gave them any opportunity for private +conversation. If Roland proposed to see Denas down the cliff-breast, +Elizabeth was always delighted to go also. If Roland asked Denas to go +into the garden to gather fruit or flowers, or into the drawing-room +to sing her songs to his accompaniments, Elizabeth was faithfully at +the side of Denas. She was actuated by a variety of motives. She +wished her brother to make a prudent marriage. There were at least +three young girls in the vicinity eligible, and Elizabeth believed +that Roland had only to woo in order to win. Any entanglement with +Denas, therefore, would be apt to delay such a settlement. + +She liked Denas, and she did not wish to be the means of giving her a +heartache or a disappointment. But she liked her as a friend and +companion, not as a probable sister. Mr. Tresham in the days of his +commercial glory had once been Lord Mayor of London. Mrs. Tresham had +been "presented," and the grand house and magnificent entertainments +of the Treshams were chronicled in newspapers, which Elizabeth highly +valued and carefully treasured. She had also her full share of that +all-pervading spirit of caste which divides English society into +innumerable circles, and though she did not dislike the tacit offence +she gave to the St. Penfer young ladies by selecting a companion not +in their ranks, she was always ready to defend her friendship for +Denas by an exaggerated description of her many fine qualities. On +this subject she could air the extreme social views which she heard +from Roland, and which she always passionately opposed when Roland +advocated them; but she was not any more ready to put her ideas of an +equality based on personal desert into practice than was the most +bigoted aristocrat of her acquaintance. + +There was also another motive for her care of Denas, a strong one, +though Elizabeth's mind barely recognised its existence. John +Penelles, though only a fisher, was a man who had influence and who +had saved money. Once when Mr. Tresham had been in a great strait for +cash, Penelles, remembering Denas, had cheerfully loaned him a hundred +pounds. Elizabeth recollected her father's anxiety and his relief and +gratitude, and a friend who will open, not his heart or his house, but +his purse, is a rare good friend, one not to be lightly wronged or +lost. Besides these reasons, there were many smaller ones, arising out +of petty social likes and dislikes and jealousies, which made Miss +Tresham determined to keep Denas Penelles precisely in the position to +which she had at first admitted her--that of a friend and companion. + +To visitors she often used the adjective "humble" before the noun +"friend," glossing it with a somewhat exaggerated account of Denas and +their relationship, but with Denas herself she never thought of such +qualification. Denas had all the native independence of her class--the +fisher class, who neither sow nor reap, but take their living direct +from the hand of God. She was proud of her father, and proud of his +boats, and proud of his skill in managing them. She said, whenever she +spoke of him: "My father is an upright man. He is a fine sailor and a +lucky fisher. Every one trusts my father. Every one honours him." + +Of course Denas recognised the differences in her friend's life and +her own. Mr. Tresham's old stone mansion was large and lofty. It had +fine gardens, and it had been well furnished from the wreck of the +London house. Elizabeth played on the harp and piano in a pretty, +fashionable way, and she had jewelry, and silk dresses, and many +adornments quite outside of the power of Denas to obtain. But Denas +never envied her these things. She looked on them as the accidentals +of a certain station, and God had not put her in that station. In her +own she had the very best of all that belonged to it. And as far as +personal adornment went, she was neither vain nor envious. Her +dark-blue merino dress and her wide straw hat satisfied her ideas of +propriety and beauty. A shell comb in her fair hair and a few white +hyacinths at her throat were all the ornaments she desired. So dressed +that Easter Eve, she had stood a moment with her hat in her hand +before her mother, and asked, with a merry little movement of her eyes +and head, "what she thought of her?" and Joan Penelles had told her +child promptly: + +"You be sweet as blossoms, Denas." + +There was an engagement between her and Elizabeth to adorn the altar +for the Resurrection Service, and it was mainly this duty which had +delayed her until John Penelles began to worry about her long absence. +He did not ask himself why he had all in a moment thought of Roland +Tresham and felt a shiver of apprehension. He was not accustomed to +reason about his feelings, it was so much easier to go to Joan with +them. But this evening Joan did not quite satisfy him. He drank his +tea and ate plentifully of his favourite pie, of fresh fish and cream +and young parsley, and then said: + +"Joan, my dear, I have an over-mind to light my pipe and saunter up +the cliff-breast. I may meet Denas." + +"I wish you wouldn't go, father. It do look as if you had lost trust +in Denas--misdoubting one's own is a whist poor business and not worth +the following." + +"Aw, my dear, I just want to talk a few words to her quiet-like. If +Denas is companying with Roland Tresham she oughtn't to do it, and I +must tell her so, that I must. My dear girl, right is right in the +devil's teeth." + +He said the words so sternly that they seemed to make a gloom in the +cottage, but Joan's cheerful laugh cleared it away. "You be such a +dear, good, careful father, John," she said, as she tucked in with a +caressing movement the long ends of his kerchief. "I was only thinking +that if it be good to watch, it is far better to trust--there then, +isn't it, father?" + +"Why, my dear, I'll watch first and I'll trust after--that's right +enough, isn't it, Joan?" + +Joan sighed and smiled, and Penelles, with his pipe in his mouth, +turned his face landward. Joan thought a moment and then called to +him: + +"Father! Paul Tynton is very bad to-day. He was taken ill when the +moon was three days old; men die who sicken on that day. Hadn't you +better call and speak a word with him? He is in your class, you +know." + +"He was taken when the moon was four days old; he'll have a hard +little time, but he'll get up again." + +There was nothing else she could think of, and she knit her brows and +turned in to her house duties. Joan did not want any meeting between +her husband and Roland Tresham. She did not want anything to occur +which would interfere with Denas visiting Miss Tresham, for these +visits were a source of great pleasure to Denas and great pride to +herself. And Joan could not believe that there was any danger to be +feared from Roland; Denas had known him for two years and nothing evil +had yet happened. If Roland had said one wrong word to Denas, Joan was +sure her child would have told her. + +While she was thinking of these things, John Penelles went slowly up +the winding path that led to the top of the cliff. It was sweet and +bright on either hand with the fragile, delicate flowers of early +spring. He stopped frequently to look at them, and he longed to touch +them, to hold them in his palm, to put them against his lips. But he +looked at his big, hard hands, and then at the flowers, and so, +shaking his head, walked on. The blackbird was piping and the +missel-thrush singing in one or two of her seven languages, and John +felt the spring joy stirring in his own heart to melody. He sat in the +singing-pew at St. Penfer Chapel, and he had a noble voice, so he +shook the ashes out of his pipe, and clasping his hands behind his +back was just going to give the blackbirds and thrushes his evening +song, when he heard the rippling laugh of Denas a little ahead of +him. + +He told himself in a moment that it was not her usual laugh. He could +not for his life have defined the difference, but there it was. Before +he saw her he knew that Roland Tresham was with her, and in a moment +or two they came suddenly within his vision. Denas was walking a +little straighter than usual, and Roland was bending toward her. He +was gay, laughing, finely dressed; he was doing his best to attract +the girl who walked so proudly, so apart, and yet so happily beside +him. Penelles went forward to meet them. As they approached Denas +smiled, and the young man called out: + +"Hello, Penelles! How do you do? And what's the news? And how is the +fishing? I was just bringing Denas home--and hoping to see you." + +"Aw, then, sir, you can see for yourself how I be, and the news be +none, and the fishing be plenty." + +"St. Penfer harbour is not much of a place, Penelles. I was just +telling Denas about London." + +"St. Penfer be a hard little place, but it do give us a living, sir; a +honest living, thank God! Come, Denas, my dear." + +As he spoke he gently took the girl's hand, and with a perfectly civil +"Good-evening, sir," turned with her homeward. + +"Too fast, Penelles; I am going with you." + +"Much obliged; not to-night, sir. It be getting late. Say good-evening, +Denas." + +There was something so final about the man's manner that Roland was +compelled to accept the dismissal, but it deeply offended him, and the +unreasonable anger opened the door for evil thoughts; and evil +thoughts--having a cursed and powerful vitality--immediately began to +take form and to make plans for their active gratification. Denas +walked silently down the narrow path before her father. He could see +by the way she carried herself and by the swing of the little basket +in her hand that she was vexed, and he had a sense of injustice in her +attitude which he could not define, but which wounded his great loving +heart deeply. At last they reached the shingle, and he strode to her +side. + +"You be in a great hurry now, Denas," he said. + +"I want to speak to my mother." + +"What is it, dear? Father will do as well." + +"No, he won't. Father is cruel cross to-night, and thinking wrong of +his girl and wrong of others who meant no wrong." + +"Then I be sorry enough, Denas. Come, my dear, we won't quarrel for a +bad man like Roland Tresham." + +"He isn't bad, father." + +"He is cruel bad--worse than an innocent girl can know. Aw, my dear, +you must take father's word for it. How was he walking with you +to-night? 'Twas some devil's miracle, I'll warrant." + +"No, then, it was not. He came from London on the afternoon train, and +Miss Tresham had a bad headache and could not set me home as she +always does." + +"You should have come home alone. There was nothing to fear you." + +"'Tis the first time." + +"And, my dear, 'tis the last time. Mind that! 'Twill be a bad hour for +Roland Tresham if I see him making love to my girl again." + +"He didn't say a word of love to me, father." + +"Aw, then, he was looking it--more shame to him, not to give looks +words." + +"Cannot a man look at a pretty girl? I call that nonsense, father." + +"Roland Tresham can't look at you, Denas, any more as I saw him +looking at you to-night--bold and free, and sure and laughing to his +own heart for the clever he was, and the devil in his eyes and on his +tongue. 'Twas all wrong, my dear, or I wouldn't be feeling so hot and +angry about it. I wouldn't be feeling as if my heart was cut loose +from its moorings and sinking down and down as deep as fear can send +it." + +"You might trust me, father." + +"Aw, my sweet girl, there's times an angel can't be trusted, or so +many wouldn't have lost themselves. It takes a man to know men and all +the wickedness mixed up in their flesh and blood. There's your mother, +Denas--God bless her!" + +Joan came strolling forward to meet them, her large, handsome face +beaming and shining with love and pride. But she was immediately +sensitive to the troubled, angry atmosphere in which her husband and +child walked, and she looked into John's face with the inquiry in her +eyes. + +"Denas is vexed about Roland Tresham, mother." + +"There then, I thought Denas had more sense than to trouble herself or +you, father, with the like of him. Your new frock is home, Denas, and +pretty enough, my dear. Go and look at it before it be too dim to +see." + +Denas was glad to escape to her room, and Penelles turned suddenly +silent and said no more until he had smoked another pipe on his own +door-step. + +Then he went into the cottage and sat down. Joan was by the fire with +her knitting in her hand, and softly humming to herself her favourite +hymn: + + "When quiet in my house I sit." + +Penelles let her finish, and then he told her all that he saw and all +that he thought and every word he and Denas had spoken. "And I said +what was right, didn't I, Joan?" he asked. + +"No words at all are sometimes better than good words, John. When the +wicked was before him, even David didn't dare to say good and right +words." + +"David wasn't a St. Penfer fisherman, Joan, and the wicked men of his +day were a different kind of wicked men--they just thought of a bad +thing and went and did it. They didn't plot and plan how to make +others wicked for them and with them." + +"What do you know wrong of Roland Tresham, John?" + +"What do I know wrong of Trelawny's little Jersey bull? Nothing. It +never hurt me yet. But I see the devil in his eyes and in the lift of +his feet and the toss of his horns and the switch of his tail, and I +know right well he'd rip me to pieces if I'd only give him the chance. +That's the way I know Roland Tresham is a bad one. I see the devil in +the glinting of his eyes and the mock of his smile, and I wouldn't +have been more sick frightened to-night if I'd seen a tiger purring +around Denas than I was when I got the first glimpse of Tresham +bending down, coaxing and flattering our little girl. He's a bad man, +sent with sorrow and shame wherever he goes, and I know it just as I +know the long dead roll of the waves and the white creeping mist--like +a dirty thief--which makes me cry out at sea 'All hands to reef! +Quick! All hands to reef!'" + +"There then, John, if wrong and danger there be, what must be done?" + +"Keep the little maid out of it. Don't let her go to Mr. Tresham's. I +wouldn't hear tell of it. If Denas would only listen a bit to Tris +Penrose, he'd be the man for her--a good man, a good sailor, and he do +love the very stones Denas steps on, he do for sure." + +"She used to like Tris, but these few months her love has all quailed +away." + +"'Tis dreadful! dreadful! Why did God Almighty make women so? Here be +good love going a-begging to them and getting nothing but a frown and +a hard word, while devil's love is fretted for and heart-nursed. +Whatever is a woman's love made of, I do wonder?" + +As he asked the question he knocked his pipe against the jamb to +clean it out, and then quickly turned his head, for an inner door +opened and Denas peeped out and then came forward and put her arm +around his neck and said: + +"Woman's love or man's love, who knows how God makes it, father? And +the fisherman's poet--a far wiser man than most men--asks and answers +the same troublesome question in his way. What is love? How does it +come? + + "'Is it sucked with your milk? is it mixed with your flesh? + Does it float about everywhere like a mesh, + So fine you can't see it? Is it blast? Is it blight? + Is it fire? Is it fever? Is it wrong? Is it right? + Where is it? What is it? The Lord above, + He only knows the strength of love; + He only knows, and He only can, + The root of love that is in a man.'[1] + +For a woman; that's harder still, isn't it, father? But never fret +yourself, father, for Denas loves you and mother first of all and best +of all." And she slipped on to his knee and stretched out her hand to +her mother, and so, kissing the tears off her father's face and the +smiles off her mother's lips, she went happily to her sleep. + +And a great trust came into the father's and mother's hearts; they +spoke long of their hopes and plans for her happiness, and then, +stepping softly to her bedside, they blessed her in her sleep. And she +was dreaming of Roland Tresham. So mighty is love, and yet so +ignorant; so strong, and yet so weak; so wise, and yet so easily +deceived. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +OH, THE PITY OF IT! + + "One love is false, one love is true: + Ah, if a maiden only knew!" + + "It is dear honey that is licked off a thorn." + + +The thing Elizabeth Tresham had done her best to prevent had really +happened, but she was not much to blame. Circumstances quite +unexpectedly had disarranged her plans and made her physically unable +to keep her usual guard over her companion. In fact, Elizabeth's own +love-affairs that eventful Saturday demanded all her womanly diplomacy +and decision. + +Miss Tresham had the two lovers supposed to be the lot of most +women--the ineligible one, whom she contradictively preferred, and the +eligible one, who adored her in spite of all discouragements. The +first was the young rector of St. Penfer, a man to whom Elizabeth +ascribed every heavenly perfection, but who in the matter of earthly +goods had not been well considered by the church he served. The living +of St. Penfer was indeed a very poor one, but then the church itself +was early Norman and the rectory more than two hundred years old. +Elizabeth thought poverty might at least be picturesque under such +conditions; and at nineteen years of age poverty has a romantic +colouring if only love paint it. + +Robert Burrell, the other lover, had nothing romantic about him, not +even poverty. He was unpoetically rich--he even trafficked in money. +The rector was a very young man; Burrell was thirty-eight years old. +The rector wrote poetry, and understood Browning, and recited from +Arnold and Morris. Burrell's tastes were for social science and +statistics. He was thoughtful, intelligent, well-bred, and reticent; +small in figure, with a large head and very fine eyes. The rector, on +the contrary, was tall and fair, and so exceedingly handsome that +women especially never perceived that the portal to all his senses was +small and low and that he was incapable of receiving a great idea. + +On that Saturday morning Robert Burrell resolved to test his fate, and +he wrote to Miss Tresham. It was a letter full of that passionate +adoration he was too timid to personally offer, and his protestations +were honourably certified by the offer of his hand and fortune. It was +a noble letter; a letter no woman could easily put aside. It meant to +Elizabeth a sure love to guard and comfort her and an absolute release +from the petty straits and anxieties of genteel poverty. It would make +her the mistress of the finest domestic establishment in the +neighbourhood--it would give her opportunities for helping Roland to +the position in life he ought to occupy; and this thought--though an +after one--had a great influence on Elizabeth's mind. + +After some consideration she took the letter to her father. He was in +one of his most querulous moods, ill-disposed to believe in any good +thing coming to him. He read the letter under such influence, and yet +he could not but be sensible of its importance. + +"It is a piece of unexpected good fortune for you, Elizabeth," he said +with a sigh. "Of course it will leave me alone here, but I do not mind +that now; all else has gone--why not you? I thought, however, the +rector was your choice. I hope you have no entanglement there." + +"He has never asked me to be his wife, but he has constantly shown +that he wished it. He is poor--I think he felt that." + +"He has made love to you, called you the fairest girl on earth, made +you believe he lived only in your presence, and so on, and so on?" + +"Yes, he has talked in that way for a long time." + +"He never intends to ask you to marry him. He asked Dr. Eyre if you +had any fortune. Oh, I know his kind and their ways!" + +"I think you are mistaken, father. If he knew Mr. Burrell wished to +marry me he would venture to----" + +"You think he would? I am sure he would not--but here the gentleman +comes. I will speak a few words to him and then he will speak to you, +and after that you can answer Mr. Burrell's letter. Stay a moment, +Elizabeth. It is only fair to tell you that I have no money but my +annuity. When I die you will be penniless." + +So Elizabeth went out of the room silent and with her head drooping a +little. The word "penniless" was a shock to her. She sat down in a +large chair with her back to the light and shut her eyes. She wished +to set the two men clearly before her. It would be easy to love Robert +Burrell if she did not love the other. Did she love the other? She +examined her heart pitilessly, and found always some little "if" +crouching in a corner. In some way or other it was evident she did not +believe "the other" would stand trial. + +Mr. Tresham had the same opinion in a more positive form, and he was +quite willing to test it. He met the rector with more effusion than +was usual with him, and putting on his hat said: + +"Walk around the garden with me, sir. I have something to say to you, +and as I am a father you must permit me to speak very plainly. I +believe you are in love with Elizabeth?" + +There was no answer from the young man, and his face was pale and +angry. + +"Well, sir! Am I right or wrong?" + +"Sir, I respect and like Miss Tresham. Everyone must do so, I think." + +"Have you asked her to marry you?" + +"Oh, dear, no! Nothing of the kind, sir; nothing of the kind!" + +"I thought not. Well, you see, sir, your dangling about my house keeps +honest men outside, and I would be obliged to you, sir--in fact, sir, +I require you at once to make Miss Tresham understand that your +protestations are lies--simple and straightforward lies, sir. I insist +on your telling her that your love-making is your amusement and +girls' hearts the pawns with which you play. You will tell her that +you are a scoundrel, sir! And when you have explained yourself to Miss +Tresham, you had better give the same information to Miss Trelawny, +and to Miss Rose Trefuses, and to that poor little sewing-girl you +practise your recitations on. Sir, I have the greatest contempt for +you, and when you have spoken to Miss Tresham, you will leave my house +and come here no more." + +"It will give me pleasure to obey you, sir." + +With these words he turned from the contemptuous old man, and in a +hurried, angry mood sought Elizabeth in her usual sitting-room. + +She opened her eyes as he opened the door and looked at him. Then she +rose and went toward him. He waved her away imperatively and said: + +"No, Elizabeth! No! I have no caress for you to-day! I do not think I +shall ever feel lovingly to you again. Why did you tell your father +anything? I thought our love was a secret, sacred affair. When I am +brought to catechism about my heart matters, I shut my heart close. I +am not to be hectored and frightened into marrying any woman." + +"Will you remember whose presence you are in?" + +"If you wanted to be my wife----" + +"I do not want to be your wife." + +"If you loved me in the least----" + +"I do not love you in the least." + +"I shall come here no more. O Elizabeth! Only to think!" + +"I am glad you come here no more. I see that you judge the honour and +fulness of my heart by the infidelity and emptiness of your own. Go, +sir, and remember, you discard not me--I discard you." + +Thus speaking she passed him haughtily, and he put out his hand as if +to detain her, but she gathered her drapery close and so left him. Mr. +Tresham heard her footsteps and softly opened the door of his library. +"Come in here, Elizabeth," he said with some tenderness. + +"I have seen him." + +"And he brought you the news of his own dishonour. Let him go. He is +as weak as a bent flax-stalk, and to be weak is to be wicked. Bury +your disappointment in your heart, do not even tell Denas--girls talk +to their mothers and mothers talk to all and sundry. Turn your face to +Burrell Court now--it is a fair fortune." + +"And it may be a good thing for poor Roland." + +"It may. A respectable position and a certain income is often +salvation for a man. Write to Mr. Burrell at once, and send the letter +by the gardener." + +That was an easy direction to give, but Elizabeth did not find it easy +to carry out. She wrote half-a-dozen letters, and none of them was +satisfactory. So she finally asked her lover to call and see her at +seven o'clock that evening. And it was very natural that, in the +stress of such an important decision, the visit of Denas and their +intention of dressing the altar should be forgotten. It was a kind of +unpleasant surprise to her when Denas came and she remembered the +obligation. Of course she could not now refuse to fulfil it. The +offering was surely to God, and no relation between herself and the +rector could interfere with it. But it was a great trial. She said she +had a headache, and perhaps that complaint as well as any other +defined the hurt and shock she had received. + +Denas wondered at Elizabeth's want of interest. She did not +superintend as usual the cutting of the flowers, so carefully nursed +and saved for this occasion; and though she went to the church with +Denas and really did her best to make a heart offering with her Easter +wreaths, the effort was evident. Her work lacked the joyous enthusiasm +which had always distinguished Elizabeth's church duties. + +The rector pointedly ignored her, and she felt keenly the curious, and +in some cases the not kindly, glances of the other Easter handmaidens. +In such celebrations she had always been put first; she was now +last--rather, she was nowhere. It would have been hard to bear had she +not known what a triumph she held in abeyance. For Mr. Burrell was the +patron of St. Penfer's church; he had given its fine chime of bells +and renovated its ancient pews of black oak. The new organ had been +his last Christmas gift to the parish, and out of his purse mainly had +come the new school buildings. The rector might ignore Miss Tresham, +but she smiled to herself when she reflected on the salaams he would +yet make to Mrs. Robert Burrell. + +Now, Denas was not more prudent than young girls usually are. She saw +that there was trouble, and she spoke of it. She saw Elizabeth was +slighted, and she resented it. It was but natural under such +circumstances that the church duty was made as short as possible; and +it was just as natural that Elizabeth should endeavour to restore her +self-respect by a confidential revelation of the great matrimonial +offer she had received. And perhaps she did nothing unwomanly in +leaving Denas freedom to suppose the rector's insolent indifference +the fruit of his jealousy and disappointment. + +In the midst of these pleasant confidences Roland unexpectedly +entered. He had written positively that he was not coming. And then +here he was. "I thought I could not borrow for the trip, but I managed +it," he said with the bland satisfaction of a man who feels that he +has accomplished a praiseworthy action. For once Elizabeth was not +quite pleased at his visit. She would rather it had not occurred at +such an important crisis of her life. She was somewhat afraid of +Roland's enthusiasms and rapid friendships, and it was not unlikely +that his first conception of Mr. Burrell's alliance would be "a good +person to borrow money from." + +Also she wished time to dress herself carefully and solitude to get +the inner woman under control. After five o'clock Denas and Roland +were both in her way. They were at the piano singing as complacently +and deliberately as if the coming of her future husband was an event +that could slip into and fit into any phase of ordinary life. It was a +strange, wonderful thing to her, something so sacred and personal she +could not bear to think of discussing it while Roland laughed and +Denas sang. It was not an every-day event and she would not have it +made one. + +She knew her father would not interfere, and she knew one way in which +to rid herself of Denas and Roland. Naturally she took it. A little +after six she said: "I have a headache, Roland, and shall not walk +to-night. Will you take Denas safely down the cliff?" + +Roland was delighted, and Denas was no more afraid of the gay fellow +than the moth is of the candle. She was pleasantly excited by the idea +of a walk all alone with Roland. She wondered what he would say to +her: if he would venture to give voice to the inarticulate love-making +of the last two years--to all that he had looked when she sang to +him--to all that he meant by the soft, prolonged pressure of her hand +and by that one sweet stolen kiss which he had claimed for Christmas' +sake. + +They walked a little apart and very silently until they came into the +glades of the cliff-breast. Then, suddenly, without word or warning, +Roland took Denas in his arms and kissed her. "Denas! sweet Denas!" he +cried, and the wrong was so quickly, so impulsively committed that for +a moment Denas was passive under it. Then with flaming cheeks she +freed herself from his embrace. "Mr. Tresham, you must go back," she +said. "I can walk no further with you. Why were you so rude to me?" + +"I am not rude, Denas, and I will not go back. After waiting two years +for this opportunity, do you think I will give it up? And I will not +let you call me Mr. Tresham. To you I am Roland. Say it here in my +arms, dear, lovely Denas! Do not turn away from me. You cannot go back +without telling Elizabeth, and I swear you shall not go forward until +you forgive me. Come, Denas, sweet, forgive me!" He held her hands, he +kissed her hands, and would not release the girl, who, as she listened +to his rapid, eager pleading, became more and more disposed to +tenderness. He was telling the story no one could better tell than +Roland Tresham. His eyes, his lips, his smile, his caressing +attitudes, all went with his eager words, his enthusiastic admiration, +his passionate assertion of his long-hidden affection. + +And everything was in his favour. The lovely spring eve, the mystical +twilight, the mellow flutings of the blackbirds and the vesper +thrushes piping nothing new or strange, only the sweet old tune of +love, the lift of the hills, the soft trinkling of hidden brooks, the +scent of violets at their feet and of the fresh leaves above them--all +the magic of the young year and of young love made the delicious story +Roland had been longing to tell and the innocent heart of Denas +fearing and longing to hear very easy to interpret--very easy to +understand. + +Listening, and then refusing to listen; yielding a little, and then +drawing back again, Denas nevertheless heard Roland's whole sweet +confession. She was taught to believe that he had loved her from their +first meeting; taught to believe and half-made to acknowledge that she +had not been indifferent to him. She was under almost irresistible +influences, and she did not think of others which might have +counteracted them. Even Elizabeth's revelation to her of her own +splendid matrimonial hopes was favourable to Roland's arguments; for +if it was a thing for congratulating and rejoicing that Elizabeth +should marry a man so much richer than herself, where was it wrong for +Denas to love one supposed to be socially and financially her +superior? + +Before they were half-way to the shingle Roland felt that he had won. +The conviction gave him a new kind of power--the power all women +delight to acknowledge; the sweet dictation, the loving tyranny that +claims every thought of the beloved. Roland told Denas she must not +dare to remember anyone but him; he would feel it and know it if she +did. She promised this readily. She must not tell Elizabeth. Elizabeth +was unreasonable, she was even jealous of everything concerning her +brother; she would have a hundred objections; she would influence his +father unfavourably; she would do all she could to prevent their +seeing each other, etc., etc. And where a man pleads, one woman is +readily persuaded against another. But Denas was much harder to +persuade where the article of secrecy touched her father and mother. +Her conscience, uneasy for some time, told her positively at this +point that deception was wicked and dangerous. Roland could not win +from her a promise in this direction. But he was not afraid--he was +sure he could trust to her love and her desire to please him. + +One of the cruellest things about a wrong love is that it delights in +tangles and hidden ways; that it teaches and practises deceit from its +first inception; that its earliest efforts are toward destroying all +older and more sacred attachments. Roland was not willing to take the +hand of Denas in the face of the world and say: "This is my beloved +wife." Yet for the secret pleasure of his secret love, he expected +Denas to wrong father-love and mother-love and to deceive day by day +the friend and the companion who had been so kind and so fairly loyal +to her. + +No wonder John Penelles hated him instinctively. John's soul needed +but a glimpse of the lovers sauntering down the narrow cliff-path to +apprehend the beginning of sorrows. Instantaneous as the glimpse was, +it explained to him the restless, angry, fearful feeling that had +driven him from his own cottage to the place appointed by destiny for +the revelation of his child's danger and of his own admonition. + +He was glad that he had obeyed the spiritual order; whatever power had +warned him had done him service. It is true the fond assurances of +Denas had somewhat pacified his suspicions, but he was not altogether +satisfied. When Denas declared that Roland had not made love to her, +John felt certain that the girl was in some measure deceiving +him--perhaps deceiving herself; for he could not imagine her to be +guilty of a deliberate lie. Alas! lying is the vital air of secret +love, and a girl must needs lie who hides from her parents the object +and the course of her affections. Still, when he thought of her arms +around his neck, of her cheek against his cheek, of her assertion that +"Denas loved no one better than her father and mother," he felt it a +kind of disloyalty to his child to altogether doubt her. He believed +that Denas believed in herself. Well, then, he must try and trust her +as far and as long as it was possible. + +And Joan trusted her daughter--she scouted the idea of Denas doing +anything that was outside her mother's approval. She told John that +his fear was nothing but the natural conceit of men; they thought a +woman could not be with one of their sex and not be ready to sacrifice +her own life and the lives of all her kinsfolk for him. "It be such +puddling folly to start with," she said indignantly; "talking about +Denas being false to her father and mother! 'Tis a doleful, dismal, +ghastly bit of cowardice, John. Dreadful! aw, dreadful!" + +Then John was silent, but he communed with his own heart. Joan had not +seen Roland and Denas as he had seen them; no one had troubled Joan as +he had been troubled. For something often gives to a loving heart a +kind of prescience, when it may be used for wise and saving ends; and +John Penelles divined the angry trend of Roland's thoughts, though it +was impossible for him to anticipate the special form that trend would +take. + +Roland had indeed been made furiously angry at the interference +between himself and Denas. "I spoke pleasantly to the old fisher, and +he was as rude as could be. Rude to me! Jove! I'll teach him the value +of good manners to his betters." + +He sat down on a lichen-covered rock, lit a cigar, and began to think. +His personal dignity had been deeply wounded; his pride of petty caste +trod upon. He, a banker's son, had been snubbed by a common +fisherman! "He took Denas from me as if I was going to kill her, body +and soul. He deserves all he suspected me of." And as these and +similar thoughts passed through Roland's mind he was not at all +handsome; his face looked dark and drawn and marked all over with the +characters sin writes through long late hours of selfish revelry and +riot. + +But however his angry thoughts wandered, they always came back to the +slight of himself personally--to the failure of Penelles to appreciate +the honour he was doing him in wooing his daughter. And if the devil +wishes to enter easily a man or a woman, he finds no door so wide and +so easy of access as the door of wounded vanity and wounded +self-esteem. + +Roland's first impulse was to make Denas pay her father's debt. "I +will never speak to her again. Common little fisher-girl! I will teach +her that gentlemen are to be used like gentlemen. Why did she not +speak up to her father? She stood there without a word and let him +snub me. The idea!" These exclamations were, however, only the quick, +unreasoning passion of the animal; when Roland had calmed himself with +tobacco, he felt how primitive and foolish they were. His reflections +were then of a different character; they began to flow steadily into a +channel they had often wandered in, though hitherto without distinct +purpose. + +"After all, I like the girl. She has a kind of nixie, tantalising, +bewitching charm that would drive a crowd mad. She has a fresh, +sympathetic voice, penetrating, too, as a clarion. Her folk-songs and +her sea-songs go down to the bottom of a man's heart and into every +corner of it. Now, if I could get her to London and have her taught +how to manage her voice and face and person, if I had her taught how +to dance--Jove! there is a fortune in it! Dressed in a fancy fisher +costume, singing the casting songs and the boat songs--the calls and +takes she knows so well--why, she would make a gas-lit theatre seem +like the great ocean, and men would see the white-sailed ships go +marching by, and the fishing cobbles, and the wide nets full of +gleaming fish, and--and, by Jove! they would go frantic with delight. +They would be at her feet. She would be the idol of London. She would +sing full pockets empty. I should have all my desires, and now I have +so few of them. What a prospect! But I'll reach it--I'll reach it, and +all the fishers in St. Penfer's shall not hinder me!" + +He thought his plans over again, and then it was dark and he rose up +to return home; but as he shook himself into the proper fit of his +clothes and settled his hat at the correct angle, he laughed +vauntingly and said: + +"I shall be even with you, John Penelles, before next Easter. I was +not good enough for Denas, was I not? Well, she is going to work for +me and for my pleasure and profit, John Penelles; going to make money +for me to spend, John Penelles. My beautiful fisher-maid! I dare be +bound she is dreaming of me now. Women! women! women! What dear little +fools they are, to be sure!" + +He was quite excited and quite good-tempered now. A new plan was like +a new fortune to Roland. He never took into consideration the +contrariness of circumstances and of opposing human elements. His +plans were perfect from his own standpoint; the standpoint of other +people was out of his consideration. Never before had he conceived so +clever a scheme for getting a livelihood made for him. There was +really nobody but Denas to interfere with any of his arrangements, and +Denas was under his control and could be made more so. This night he +felt positive that he had "hit the very thing at last." + +He reached home late, but in exuberant spirits. Elizabeth was waiting +for him. She was beautifully dressed, and in a moment he saw upon her +hand the flash of large and perfect diamonds. "They were mother's, I +suppose, and I have as much right--yes, more right--to them than she +has." This was his first thought, but he did not express it. There was +an air about Elizabeth that was quite new to him; he was curious and +full of expectation as he seated himself beside her. She shook her +head in a reproving manner. + +"You have been making love to Denas. I see it in your eyes, Roland. +And you promised me you never would." + +"Upon my honour, Elizabeth. We met the old fisher Penelles a long way +up the cliff and he took her from me. Talking of making love--pray, +what have you been doing? I thought you had a headache." + +"Roland, I am going to be married--June the 11th." + +"Is that your engagement ring?" + +"It is. Mr. Burrell says it was his mother's engagement ring; but, +then, gems are all second-hand--a hundred-hand--a thousand-hand for +that." + +"Burrell! You take my breath away! Burrell! The man who has a bank in +Threadneedle Street?" + +"The same." + +"Good gracious, Elizabeth! You have made all our fortunes! You noble +girl! I did not know he was thinking of you." + +"He was waiting for me. Destiny, Roland. But he is a noble-hearted +man, and he loves me and I intend to be a good wife to him. I do +indeed. He is going to make a great settlement on me, and I shall have +an income of my own from it--all my own, to do what I like with." + +"Elizabeth, dear, I always have loved you better than anything else in +the world. You will not forget me now, will you, dear?" + +"Why, Roland, I thought of you when I accepted Mr. Burrell. When I am +married, Roland, I shall manage things for you as you wish them, I +daresay. The man loves me so much that I could get not the half, but +the whole of his kingdom from him." + +"You are the dearest, noblest sister in the world." + +"I could not bear to go to sleep without making you as happy as +myself. Now, Roland, there is something you must not do, and that is, +have any love nonsense with Denas Penelles. At Burrell Court you will +meet rich girls and girls of good birth, and your only chance is in a +rich marriage--you know it is, Roland." + +"Oh, I do not quite think that, Elizabeth." + +"Roland, you know it. How many situations have you had and lost? If +Mr. Burrell gave you a desk in his bank to-morrow, you would hand back +its key before my wedding-day." + +"Perhaps; but there are other ways." + +"None for you but a rich marriage. Every other way supposes work, and +you will not work. You know you will not." + +"I have some objections." + +"Now, any trouble with a fisherman's daughter would be bad every way. +There is the dislike rich girls have for low amours, and, worse still, +the dreadfully Cornish habit fishers have of standing together. If you +offend John Penelles or wrong him in the least, you offend and wrong +every man in St. Penfer fishing quarter. Do not snap your fingers so +scornfully, Roland; you would be no match for a banded enmity like +that." + +"All this about Denas?" + +"Yes; all this about Denas. The girl is a vain little thing, but I do +not want to see her breaking her heart about your handsome face." + +She drew the handsome face down to her lips and kissed it; and Roland +used every charm he possessed in order to deepen his influence over +his going-to-be-rich sister. He was already making plain and straight +his paths for a certain supremacy at Burrell Court. He was already +feeling that a good deal of Robert Burrell's money would come, through +Elizabeth's hands, into his pocket. That would be a perfectly +legitimate course for it to take. Why should not a loving sister help +a loving brother? + +And oh, the pity of it! While brother and sister talked only of +themselves, Robert Burrell sat silent and happy in his study, planning +magnificent generosities for his bride; thinking of her youth, of her +innocence, her ignorance of fashionable society, of her affection for +and her loyalty to her father and brother, and loving her with all his +great honest heart for these very things. And Denas lay dreaming of +Roland. And Roland, even while he was talking with Elizabeth about +Burrell Court, was holding fast to his intention to degrade Denas. For +the singing, dancing, fiddling life which he was to lead with her +suited his tastes exactly; he felt it would be the absolutely +necessary alterative to the wealthy decorum of Burrell Court. + +O Love! what cruelties are done in thy name! We think of thee as +coming with a rose, and a song, and a smile. Nay, but the Calydonian +Maidens were right when they cried bitterly: "Death should have risen +with Love, and Grief, and visible Fear; and there should have been +heard a voice of lamentation and mourning, as of many in prison."[2] + + +FOOTNOTES: + + [1] T. E. Brown, M.A. + + [2] "Atalanta in Calydon." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA. + + "O blessed sounds of wiser life + Contented with its day, + How ye rebuke the inner strife + That wears the soul away." + + "The Eden we live in is our own heart, + And the first thing we do of our free choice + Is sure to be sin." + --FESTUS. + + +John Penelles was one of those strong religious characters whose minds +no questions disturb, whose spiritual aspirations are never put out of +breath. He had not yet been a yoke-fellow with sorrow. Hard work, the +cruelty of the elements, the self-denials of poverty, these things he +had known; but love had never smitten him across the heart. + +When he rose that Easter Sunday he rose singing. He sang as he put on +his chapel broadcloth; he was trying over the different metres and the +Easter anthem as he walked about the sanded floor of his cottage, and +thought over the heads of his sermon. For he was to preach that night +in the little chapel of St. Swer, a fishing hamlet four miles to the +northward; indeed, John preached very often, being a local preacher +in the circuit of St. Penfer, and rather famous for his ready, short +sermons, full of the breath of the sea and of the savour of the +fisher's life upon it. + +Denas had gone to a neighbouring farm for milk. He heard her quick +step on the shingle, and he stood still in the middle of the floor to +meet her. She had on a short dress of pink calico and a square of +blue-and-white-plaided flannel thrown over her head. She came in like +the breath of the spring Sabbath. Her face was rosy, her lovely lips +slightly apart, her blue eyes dewy and soft and bright and brimming +with love. She lifted her face to her father's face, and he forgot in +a moment all his fears. He saw only Denas, and not any of her faults; +if she had faults, he buried them that moment in his love, and they +were all put out of memory. + +Roland and the Treshams were not spoken of. John and Joan both had the +fisher's dislike to name a person or a thing they considered unlucky +or unpleasant. "If you name evil you do call evil" was their simple +creed; and it saved many a household worry. They sat down to their +breakfast of tea, and fresh fish, and white loaf, and the wide-open +door let in the sea wind, and the sea smell, and the soft murmur of +the turning tide. John's heart was full of holy joy; he could feel it +singing: "Bless the Lord, O my soul!" And though he was only a poor +Cornish fisher, he was sure that the world was a very good world and +that life was well worth the living. + +"Joan, my dear," he said, "the Bible do tell us that there shall be a +new earth. Can it be a sweeter one than this is?" + +"Aw, John, it may be a sight better, for we be promised 'there shall +be no sea there,' thank God! no freezing, drowning men and no weeping +wives. I do think of that when you are out in the frost and storm, +John, and the thought be heaven itself." + +"My dear, the sea be God's own highway. There be wonders by the sea. +Was not St. John sent to the sea-side for the Revelations? 'Twas there +he heard the angels, whose voices were like the sound of many waters. +Heaven will be wonderful! wonderful! if it do make us forget the sea. +Aw, my dear Joan, 'twill be something added to this earth, not +something taken away, and the good thing added will make both the sea +and the 'bounds of the everlasting hills' to be blessed." + +"John, who told you that? And if the cruel, hungry, awful sea is not +to be taken away, nor yet the 'everlasting hills,' what will make it a +new earth?" + +"God's tabernacle will be in it. Aw, my dear, that will make +everything new--sea and land, men and women; and then there will be no +more tears. My dear, when I think of that I love this old world, not +only for what it is, but also for what it is going to be." + +"Father, you are preaching and not eating your breakfast; and I want +to get breakfast over and the cups washed, for I have to dress myself +yet, and a new dress to put on, too," and Denas smiled and nodded and +touched her father's big hand with her small one, and then John +smiled back, and with a mighty purpose began to eat his fish and bread +and drink his tea. + +The whole day took its colour from this happy beginning. In +after-years John often spoke of that Easter Sabbath; of their quiet +walk all together up the cliff to St. Penfer Chapel; of the singing, +and the sermon, and the Sunday-school in the afternoon for the fisher +children; of the walk to St. Swer with Denas by his side and the walk +back, singing all the way home; of the nice supper ready for them, and +how they had eaten and talked till the late moon made a band of light +across the table, and John said hurriedly: + +"Well, there now! The tide will be calling me before I do have time to +get sleep in my eyes." + +Then Joan rose quickly and Denas began to put away the bread and +cheese and milk, and though none recognised the fact at the time, the +old life passed away for ever when the three rose from that midnight +supper. + +Yet for several days afterward nothing seemed to be changed. John went +to his fishing and had unusual good fortune; and Joan and Denas were +busy mending nets and watching the spring bleaching. It was the duty +of Denas to take the house linen to some level grassy spot on the +cliff-breast and water and watch it whiten in the sunshine. Monday she +had gone to this duty with a vague hope that Roland would seek her +out. She watched all day for him. She knew that she was looking +pretty, and she felt that her employment was picturesque. + +As she stood over the breadths of damask, with the water-can making +mimic rain upon them, she was well aware that all her surroundings +added charm to her charm. The soft winds blowing her hair and her pink +skirt; the green leaves whispering above and around her; the rippling +of the brook running down the hillside--all these things belonged as +much to her as the frame belongs to the picture. Why did not Roland +come to see her thus? Was he afraid for the words he had said to her? +Were they not true words? Did he intend, by ignoring them, to teach +her that he had only been playing with her vanity and her credulity? + +Tuesday was too wet and blowy to spread the linen, and Denas felt the +morning insufferably long and tedious. Her father, who had been on the +sea all night, dozed in his big chair on the hearthstone. Joan was +silent, and went about her duties in a tiptoeing way that was very +fretful to the impatience of Denas. Denas herself was knitting a +guernsey, and as she sat counting the stitches Tristram Penrose came +to the door and, after a moment's pause, spoke to her. He was a fine +young fellow with an open-air look on his brown face and an open-love +look in his brown eyes. + +"My dear Denas," he said, "is your father in?" + +"Tris, who gave you license to call me dear? and my father is asleep +by the fireside." + +"Aw, then, the One who gave me license to live gave me the license to +love; and dear you be and dear you always will be to Tris Penrose. The +word may be shut in my heart or I may say it in your ear, Denas; 'tis +all the same; dear you be and dear you always will be." + +She shrugged her shoulders petulantly, and yet could not resist the +merry up-glance which she knew went straight to the big fellow's +heart. Then she began to fold up her knitting. While Tris was talking +to her father, she would ask for permission to go and see Elizabeth. +While Tris was present, she did not think he would refuse her request, +for if he did so she could ask him for reasons and he would not like +to give them. + +Denas had all the natural diplomacy of a clever woman, and she knew +the power of a fond word and a sunny smile. "Father"--is there any +fonder word?--"Father, I want to go and see Miss Tresham. She told me +a very important secret on Saturday, and I know she was expecting me +yesterday to talk it over with her;" then she went close to his side +and put her hand on his shoulder and snuggled her cheek in his big +beard, and called poor Tris' soul into his face for the very joy of +watching her. + +John was not insensible to her charming. He hesitated, and Denas felt +the hesitation and met it with a bribe: "You could come up the cliff +to meet me before you go to the boats--couldn't you, father?" + +"Nay, my dear, I'll not need to look for you on the cliff, for you +will stay at home, Denas; it rains--it blows." + +"Miss Tresham was expecting me all through yesterday, but it was so +fine I took the linen to bleach. She will be so disappointed if I do +not come to-day. We have a secret, father--a very particular secret." + +It was hard to resist the pretty, pleading, coaxing girl, but John had +a strength of will which Denas had never before put to the test. + +"My dear girl," he answered, "if Miss Tresham be longing to talk her +secrets to you, she can come to you. There be nothing in the world to +hinder her. Here be a free welcome to her." + +"I promised, father." + +"'Tis a pity you did." + +"I must go, father." + +"You must stay at home. 'Twould be like putting my girl through the +fire to Baal to send her into the company there be now at Mr. +Tresham's." + +"I care nothing for the company. I want to see Miss Tresham." + +"Now, then, I am in earnest, Denas. You shall not go. Take your +knitting and sit down to your own work." + +She lifted her knitting, but she did not lift a stitch. Where there is +no positive compulsion the hand is only handmaid to the heart, and it +does the work only which the heart wishes. At this hour Denas hated +her knitting, and there being no necessity on her to perform it, her +hands lay idle upon her lap. After a few minutes' conversation John +went out with Tris Penrose, and then Denas began to cry with anger and +disappointment. + +"My father has insulted me before Tris Penrose," she said, "and I will +never speak to Tris again. Many a time and oft he has let me go to St. +Penfer when it was raining and blowing. He is very cross, cruel cross! +Mother, you give me leave--do! I will tell you a secret. Elizabeth is +going to be married, and she wants me to help in getting her things +ready. Mother, let me go; it is cruel hard to refuse me!" + +The news of an approaching marriage can never be heard by any woman +with indifference. Joan stayed her needle and looked at Denas with an +eager curiosity. + +"'Tis to the rector, I'll warrant, Denas," she said. + +"No, it is not; but the rector is fine and angry, I can tell you. It +was too much for him to speak to Miss Tresham on Saturday afternoon at +the church. But won't he be sorry for his disknowledging her when he +knows who is to be the bridegroom? He will, and no mistake." + +"I don't understand you, Denas. Who is going to marry Miss Tresham? +Say the man's name, and be done with it." + +"'Tis a great secret, mother; but if you will let me go to St. Penfer +I will tell you." + +"Aw, my dear, I can live without Miss Tresham's secrets. And I do know +she can't be having one I would go against your father to hear tell +of, not I." + +"Father is unjust and unkind. What have I done, mother?" + +"Your father is afraid of that young jackanapes, Roland Tresham, and +good reason, too, if all be true that is said to be true." + +"Mr. Roland is a gentleman." + +"Gentleman and gentleman--there be many kinds, and no kind at all for +you. You be a fisher's daughter, and you must choose a husband of +your own sort--none better, thank God! The robin would go to the +eagle's nest, and a poor sad time it had there. Gentlemen marry +gentlemen's daughters, Denas, and if they don't, all sides do be sorry +enough." + +"Am I to go no more to Miss Tresham's?" + +"Not until the young man is back in London." + +"Then I wish he would hurry all and be off." + +"So do I, my dear. I would be glad to hear that he was far away from +St. Penfer." + +Joan rose with these words and went out of the room, and Denas knew +that for this day also there was no hope of seeing Roland. Her heart +was hot with anger, and she began to lay some of the blame upon her +lover. He was a man. He could have braved the storm. And there was no +open quarrel between her father and himself; it would have been easy +enough to make an excuse for calling. Elizabeth might have written a +letter to her. Roland might have brought it. Sitting there, she could +think of half-a-dozen things which Roland might have accomplished. How +long the hours were! How would she ever get the days over? Her mother +singing in the curing-shed made her angry. The ticking of the big +clock accentuated her nervous irritability, and when John returned +silent and with that air about him which indicated the master of the +house, Denas felt surely that all was over for the present between her +and Roland Tresham. + +The night became blustery after John and the men had gone to the +fishing, and by midnight there was a storm. Joan's white, anxious +face was peering through the windows or out of the open door into the +black night continually. And the presence of Denas did not comfort +her, as it usually did; the mother felt that her child's thoughts were +with strangers, and not with her father out on the stormy sea. + +It was ten o'clock next morning before John got home. He had made a +little harbour some miles off, and glad to make it, and had been +compelled to lay there until daybreak. He was weary and silent. He +said it would have gone hard with him had not Tris been at his right +hand. Then he looked anxiously at Denas, and when she did not give him +a smile or a word, he sat down by the fire much depressed and +exhausted. For he saw that his child had a hard, angry heart toward +him, and he felt how useless it was to try and explain or justify his +dealings with her. + +It was now Wednesday, and Denas burned with shame when she thought +how readily she had listened to so careless a lover. No word of any +kind came from Elizabeth, who indeed was not to blame under the +circumstances. Mr. Burrell was much with her; they had a hundred +delightful arrangements to make about their marriage and their future +housekeeping. And if in these days Elizabeth was a little proud and +important and very much interested in her own affairs, she was +innocently so. She was only exhibiting the natural parade of a +lovely bud spreading itself into a perfect flower. + +She had not the slightest intention of being unkind to Denas; indeed, +she looked forward to many pleasant hours with her and to her +assistance in all the preparations for her marriage. And Roland had +introduced the subject quite as frequently as he felt it to be +prudent. Finally Elizabeth had plainly told him that she did not +intend to have Denas with her until he returned to London. "I see you +so seldom, Roland," she said, "and we will not have any stranger +intermeddling when you are at home." + +"Come, Elizabeth," he answered, "you are putting up your disapprovals +in the shape of compliments. My dear, you are afraid I will fall in +love with Denas." + +"I am afraid you will make love to her, which is a very different +thing." + +"Do you want Denas here?" + +"I shall be glad to have her here. I have a great deal of sewing to +do, and she is a perfect and rapid needlewoman." + +"Then go to-morrow and ask her to come. I am off to London to-night. +In this world no one has pleasure but he who gives himself some. You +were my only pleasure at St. Penfer, and I do not care to share your +society with Robert Burrell." + +"I will go and see Denas. I must ask her parents to let her stay with +me until my marriage." + +But as Denas did not know of this intention, that weary Wednesday +dragged itself away amid rain and storm and household dissatisfaction; +but by Thursday morning the elements had blustered their passion away +and the world was clear-skied and sunshiny. Not so Denas; she sat in a +dark corner of the room, cross and silent, and answering her father +and mother only in monosyllables. John's heart was greatly troubled by +her attitude. He stood leaning against the lintel of the door, +watching his boat rocking upon the tide, for he was thinking that +until Denas and he were "in" again he had better stop at home. + +"I do leave my heart at home, and then I do lose my head at sea;" and +with this unsatisfactory thought John turned to his daughter and said +softly: "Denas, my dear, 'tis a bright day. Will you have a walk? But +there--here be Miss Tresham, I do know it is her." + +Denas rose quickly and looked a moment at the tall, handsome girl +picking her way across the pebbly path. Then she threw down her +knitting and went to meet her, and Elizabeth was pleased and flattered +by her protegee's complaints and welcomes. "I thought you would never +send me a message or a letter," almost sobbed Denas. "I never hoped +you would come. O Elizabeth, how I have longed to see you! Life is so +stupid when I cannot come to your house." + +"Why did you not come?" + +"Father was afraid of your brother." + +"He was right, Denas. Roland is too gay and thoughtless a young man to +be about a pretty girl like you. But he has gone to London, and I do +not think he will come back here until near the wedding-day." + +Then they were at the door, and John Penelles welcomed the lady with +all the native grace that springs from a kind heart and from noble +instincts which have become principles. "You be right welcome, Miss +Tresham," he said. "My little maid has fret more than she should have +done for you. I do say that." + +"I also missed Denas very much. I have no sister, Mr. Penelles, and +Denas has been something like one to me. I am come to ask you if she +may stay with me until my marriage in June. No one can sew like Denas, +and now I can afford to pay her a good deal of money for her work--for +her love I give her love. No gold pays for love, does it, sir?" + +John was pleased with her frankness. He knew the value of money, he +knew also the moral value of letting Denas earn money. He answered +with a candour which brushed away all pretences: + +"We be all obliged to you, Miss Tresham. We be all glad that Denas +should make money so happily. It will help her own wedding and +furnishing, whenever God do send her a good man to love her. It be a +great honour to Denas to have your love, but there then! your brother +is a fine, handsome young man, and--no offence, miss--it would not be +a great honour for my little maid to have his love or the likelihood +of it--and out of temptation is out of danger, miss, and if so be I do +speak plain and bluff, you will not put it down against me, I'll +warrant." + +"I think, Mr. Penelles, that you are quite right. I have felt all you +say for two years, and have shielded the honour and the happiness of +Denas as if she was in very deed my sister. Can you not trust her +with me now?" + +"'Tis a great charge, miss." + +"I am glad to take it. I will keep it for you faithfully." + +"'Tis too much to ask, miss; 'twould be a constant charge, for +wrong-doing is often a matter of a few moments, though the repentance +for it may last a lifetime." + +"Roland is in London. He went yesterday. I do not expect him to come +to St. Penfer again until the wedding. I assure you of this, Mr. +Penelles." + +"Then your word for it, Miss Tresham. Take my little maid with you. +She be my life, miss. If Denas was hurt any way 'twould be like I got +a shot in my backbone; 'twould be as bad for her mother, likewise for +poor Tris Penrose." + +Elizabeth smiled. "I am glad to hear there is a lover; Denas never +told me of him. Is he good and brave, and handsome and young, and +well-to-do?" + +"He be all these, and more too; for he do love the ground Denas treads +on--he do for sure." + +Denas was in her room putting on her blue merino and her hat, and +while she made her small arrangements and talked to her mother, +Elizabeth set herself to win the entire confidence of John Penelles. +It was not a hard thing to do. Evil and sin had to be present and +palpable for John's honest heart to realize them. And Miss Tresham's +open face, her frank assurances, her straightforward understanding of +the position were a pledge John never doubted. + +Certainly Elizabeth meant all she promised. She was as desirous to +prevent any love-making as John Penelles was. And when interest and +conscience are in the same mind, people do at least try to keep their +promises. Denas went gayly back with her to St. Penfer. It was +something to be in Roland's home; she would hear him spoken of, and +she would exchange the monotonous common duties of her own home for +the happy bustle and the festive preparations of a house where a fine +wedding was to be celebrated. + +Her expectations in this respect were more than gratified. Every hour +of the day brought something to discuss, to exclaim over, to wonder +about, to select, to try on. Notes and flowers, and sweetmeats, and +presents of all kinds were continually reminding Elizabeth of her +lover; and she grew beautiful and generous in the sunshine of such a +magnificent love. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed like a happy +dream. On Saturday evening Denas was to return home until after the +Sabbath. For Saturday night and Sunday were John's holiday, and a poor +one indeed it would be to him without his daughter. Nor was Denas +averse to go home. She looked forward to the pleasure of telling her +mother everything she had seen and done; she looked forward to going +to chapel with her father, and showing a pretty hat and collar and a +pair of kid gloves which Elizabeth had given her. + +About five o'clock she started down the cliff. Her heart was light in +spite of Roland's silence. Indeed, she had begun to feel a contempt +for him and greater contempt for herself because she had for a moment +believed in a man so light of love and so false of heart. Elizabeth's +affairs were full of interest to her. Elizabeth had been so sisterly +and kind. She had paid her well and promised her many things that made +life seem full of hope to the ambitious fisher-girl. How the birds did +sing! How still the green glades were! In that one week of rain and +sunshine, how the leaves had grown! + +She went gayly forward, humming softly to herself--none of the songs +Roland sang with her, but a little love-song Elizabeth had learned +from Robert Burrell. Her foot had that spring to its lift and fall +that shows there is a young innocent heart above it. In and out among +the glades she went, almost as brightly and musically as the brook +whose sparkling and darkling course she followed. When but a few +hundred yards down the path, someone called her. She thought it was a +fancy and went onward, nevertheless feeling a sudden silence and +trouble. Immediately she heard footsteps and the rustling swish of +parting leaves and branches. + +Then she stood still and looked toward the place of disturbance. A +moment afterward Roland Tresham was at her side. He took her hand; he +said softly, "This way, darling!" and before she could make the +slightest resistance he had drawn her into a little glade shut in by +large boulders and lofty trees. Then he had his arms around her, and +was laughing and talking a thousand sweet, unreasonable things. + +"Oh, Mr. Tresham, let me go! Let me go!" cried Denas. + +"Not while you say 'Mr. Tresham.'" + +"Oh, Roland!" + +"Yes, love, Roland. Say it a thousand times. Did you think I had +forgotten you?" + +"You were very cruel." + +"Cruel to be kind, Denas. My love! they think I am in London. Everyone +thinks so. I did go to London last Wednesday. I left London this +morning very early. I got off the train at St. Claire and walked +across the cliff, and found out this pretty hiding-place. And I am +going to be here every Saturday night--every Saturday night, wet or +fine, and if you do not come here to see me, I will go to Australia +and never see St. Penfer again." + +He would talk nothing but the most extravagant nonsense, and finally +Denas believed him. He gave her a ring that looked very like +Elizabeth's betrothal ring, and was even larger than Elizabeth's, and +he told her to wear it in her breast until she could wear it on her +hand. And for this night, and for many other Saturday nights, he never +named the plot in his shallow head and selfish heart; he devoted +himself to winning completely the girl's absorbing love--not a very +difficult thing to do, for the air of romance and mystery, at once so +charming and so dangerous, enthralled her fancy; his eager, masterful, +caressing wooing made her tremble with a delicious fear and hope; and +in the week's silence and dreaming, the folly of every meeting grew +marvellously. + +Nor was the loving, ignorant girl unaffected by the apparently rich +gifts her lover brought her--brooch and locket and bracelet, many +bright and sparkling ornaments, which poor Denas hid away with joy and +almost childish delight and prideful expectations. And if her +conscience troubled her, she assured it that "if it was right for +Elizabeth to receive such offerings of affection, it could not be +wrong for her to do likewise." + +Alas! alas! She did not remember that the element of secrecy made the +element of sin. If she had only entertained this thought, it would +have made her understand that the meeting which cannot be known and +the gift which cannot be shown are wicked in their essence and their +influence, and are incapable of bringing forth anything but sorrow and +sin. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE SEED OF CHANGE. + + "I love thee! I love thee! + 'Tis all that I can say;-- + It is my vision in the night, + My dreaming in the day." + --HOOD. + + "Ah, if the selfish knew how much they lost, + What would they not endeavour, not endure, + To imitate as far as in them lay + Him who His wisdom and His power employs + In making others happy." + --COWPER. + + +All fashionable wedding ceremonies are similar in kind and effect, and +Elizabeth would not have been satisfied if hers had varied greatly +from the highest normal standard. Her dress was of the most exquisite +ivory-white satin and Honiton lace. Her bridesmaids wore the orthodox +pink and blue of palest shades. There was the usual elaborate +breakfast; the cake and favours, the flowers and music, and the finely +dressed company filling the old rooms with subdued laughter and +conversation. All things were managed with that consummate taste and +order which money without stint can always command; and Elizabeth felt +that she had inaugurated a standard of perfection which cast all +previous affairs into oblivion, and demanded too much for any future +one to easily attain unto. + +In the arrangements for this completely satisfactory function, the +position which Denas was to occupy caused some discussion. Mr. Tresham +had hitherto regarded her with an indifference which sometimes assumed +a character of irritability. He was occasionally jealous of his +daughter's liking for the girl; he knew men, and he was always +suspicious of her influence on his son Roland. Proud and touchy about +his own social position, he never forgot that Denas was the child of +poor fisher people, and he could not understand the tolerant affection +Elizabeth gave to a girl so far beneath her own standing. + +When Elizabeth included her in the list of bridesmaids, he disputed +the choice with considerable temper. He said that he had long endured +a companionship not at all to his taste, because it gave Elizabeth +pleasure; but that on no account would he compel his guests to receive +Denas as their equal. His opposition was so determined that Elizabeth +gave up her intention, though she had to break an oft-repeated +promise. But, then, promises must be dependent on circumstances for +their redemption, and all the circumstances were against Denas. + +"Mr. Burrell has two sisters," said Elizabeth to her, "and if I do not +ask Cousin Flora I shall never be forgiven; and father insists upon +Georgia Godolphin, because of his friendship with Squire Godolphin; +and I cannot manage more than four bridesmaids, can I? So you see, +Denas," etc., etc., etc. + +Denas saw quite clearly, and with a certain pride of self-respect she +relegated herself to a position that would interfere with no one's +claims and offend no one's social ideas. + +"I am to be your real bridesmaid, Elizabeth," she said. "Miss +Burrells, and your cousin Flora, and Miss Godolphin are for show. I +shall be really your maid. I shall lace your white satin boots, and +fasten your white satin dress, and drape the lace, and clasp the gems, +and make your bride-bouquet. I shall stay upstairs while you are at +church and lay ready your travelling costume and see that Adele packs +your trunks properly; and when you go away I shall fasten your cloak, +and tie your bonnet, and button your gloves, and then go away myself; +for there will be no one here then that likes me and nothing at all +for me to do." + +And this programme, made with a little heartache and sense of love's +failure, Denas faithfully carried out. It cost her something to do it, +but she did not permit Elizabeth to see that she counted her faithless +in her heart. For she did not blame her friend; she understood the +force of the reasons not given--Mr. Tresham's latent dislike, her +humble birth, her want of fine clothes and fine polish and rich +connections--and she felt keenly enough that there was nothing about +her, personally or socially, to make Mr. Tresham's guests desire her. + +And when the day drew near and they began to arrive, Denas shrank more +and more from their society. She saw that Elizabeth's manner with +them was quite different from her manner to herself, and in spite of +much kindness and generosity she felt humiliated, alone, outside, and +apart. She wondered why it was. These rich girls came in little +companies to Elizabeth's room, and with soft laughter and exclamations +of delight examined the bride's pretty garments and presents. They +were never haughty with her; on the contrary, they were exceedingly +pleasant. They called her "Miss Denas" and carefully avoided anything +like condescension in their intercourse. Yet Denas knew that between +them and herself there was a line impalpable as the equator and just +as potent in its dividing power. + +It saddened her beyond reason, and when Roland arrived two days before +the wedding and she saw him wandering in the garden, riding, driving, +playing tennis, chatting and chaffing, singing and dancing with these +four girls of his own circle, she divined a difference, which she +could not explain but which pained and angered her. + +Still, that last week of Elizabeth's maiden life was a wonderful week. +It was like living in the scenes of a theatre--there was no talk but +of love. All that everyone said or did referred to the great passion. +The house was in the hands of decorators; the aroma of all kinds of +delicious things to eat was in the air. There was a constant tinkling +of the piano and harp. Snatches of song, ripples of laughter, young +voices calling through the house and garden, light footsteps going +everywhere, the flutter of pink and blue and white dresses, the snowy +ribbons and massed roses in every room, the exciting atmosphere of +love and expectation--who could escape it? And who, when in the midst +of it, was able to prevent or to deny its influence? + +Denas gave herself freely to the moment. The presence of Roland made +all things easy to her. He contrived many an unseen meeting; her lips +never lost the sense of his stolen kisses; her hands were constantly +pink with the passing clasp or the momentary pressure. No one could +have supposed he was planning anything, for he was continually with +someone or with all of the four bridesmaids; yet there was not an hour +in which he did not manage to give Denas her part, though it were but +an upward glance at the open window where she sat sewing, or a kiss +flung backward to her; or a lifted hat, or a rose left where she alone +could find it; or a little love-letter crushed into her hand in +passing. + +Such a week to stir a young heart to love's sweet fever! It passed +like a dream, and went finally with the clashing of wedding-bells and +the trampling of horses carrying away the bride. Then the guests +followed one by one until the house was lonely and deserted; and the +servants began to remove the remnants of the feast and to take down +the fading wreaths and roses. + +Mr. Tresham took Roland with him to Burrell Court. He seemed +determined to keep his son by his side, and the drive to Burrell was +an effectual way. No one thought of Denas. She had now no place nor +office in the house. But she remained until near sundown, for she +trusted that Roland would find out a way to meet her at their usual +trysting-place. And just when she had given him up he came. Then he +told her that he was going to London in the morning, because his +father had suddenly resolved upon a short pleasure-trip, and he had +promised to go with him as far as Paris. But he had provided for their +correspondence. + +"There is a man in St. Clair called Pyn, a boatman living in the first +cottage you come to, Denas," he said. "I have given him money, and my +letters to you will go to him. Can you walk to St. Clair for them?" It +was a foolish question; Roland knew that Denas would walk twenty miles +for a letter from him. He then gave her some addressed envelopes in +which to enclose her letters to him. "Pyn will post them," he said, +"and the handwriting will deceive everyone. And I shall come back to +you, Denas, as soon as I can get away from my father; and Pyn will +bring a message to St. Penfer and let you know, in some way, when I +get home." + +These particulars being fully arranged and understood, he talked to +her of her own loveliness. He told her she was more beautiful in her +plain white frock than the bride in her bride-robes. He said all that +lovers have said from the beginning of time; all that lovers will say +until time ends. Denas believed him, believed every word, for the +nature of true love is to be without doubt or fear. And Roland thought +he loved her quite well enough for their future life together. If she +was to become a public singer, it would not be wise for him to have +too exclusive and jealous affection for her. Roland had always been +prudent for himself; he thought of everything which might affect his +own happiness. This night, however, he gave up all for love. He kept +Denas by his side until the gloaming was quite gone, and then he +walked with her down to the very shingle. They parted with tears and +kisses and murmured protestations of fidelity. And Denas watched her +lover until he reached the first bend in the upward path. There he +turned, and she stretched out her arms to him, and Roland lifted his +hat and kissed his hand, and then vanished among the thick trees. + +The moon was just rising. She made the air silver, and Denas could see +the fishing-boats on the horizon swimming in her quivering beams. She +knew, then, that her father was at sea. As she approached the cottage +she saw her mother sitting on the door-step. Her arms were folded +across her knees, she stooped forward, she had an air of discontent or +anxiety. There was also a dumb feeling of resentment in her heart, +though she did not actually know that there was reason for it. She +tried to meet her child pleasantly, but could not, and she was almost +angry at the stubborn indifference which she was unable to conquer. + +"You be long in getting home, Denas. Father went to sea quite put out. +Jane Serlo says the bride did go away at two o'clock. Well, then, it +be long after nine now, Denas!" + +"I had a lot to do after Mrs. Burrell left, mother--things she would +not trust anyone else to look to." + +"Hum-m! 'Tis no good way, to take such charge. Who knows what she may +be saying after-times? I do feel glad she be married at last, and done +with. Mayhap we may see a bit of comfort ourselves now." + +"She gave me twenty pounds before she left, mother." + +"There be things twenty pound can't buy nor pay for; I tell you that, +Denas. And to see your father go off with the boat to-night, without +heart in him and only care for company! I do not feel to like it, +Denas. If your lover be dear to you, so be my old husband to me." + +"What lover are you talking about, mother?" + +"The lover that kept you on the cliff-breast--Roland Tresham, he be +the lover I mean." + +"Who told you I was with Roland?" + +"I know that you were not at Mr. Tresham's, for one called there to +put you safely home." + +"I suppose Tris Penrose has been spying me and telling tales to father +and you." + +"There be no need for Tris nor for anyone else to speak. Say to me, +plain and straight, that you were not with Roland Tresham to-night. +Say that to me, if you dare." + +"I have had such a happy day, mother, and now you have taken all the +pleasure out of it--a mean thing to do! I say that." + +"Your father and I had a happy day, thinking of your happiness. And +then to please that bad young man, who is not of your kind and not of +your kin, you do stay out till bad birds and night creatures are +prowling; till the dew be wetting you; till you have sent your father +off to the deep sea with a heart heavy enough to sink his boat--a mean +thing that to do! Yes! yes! cruel mean thing!" + +"Mrs. Burrell gave me twenty pounds. I had to do something to earn +it." + +"My faith! I'd fling the twenty pound to the fishes. Aw, then, 'tis a +poor price for my girl's love, and her innocent heart, and the proud +content she once had in her own folk. Only fishers! but God's folk, +for all that! But there! What be the use of talking? After Mr. +Tresham's flim-flams, my words be only muddling folly." + +"I am going to bed, mother." + +"To be sure. Go your ways." + +Then Joan also rose, and went to the fireside, and drew the few coals +together, and lit a lamp. For a moment she stood still, looking at the +closed door between her and her child; then she lifted a large book +from the window-sill, laid it on the small round table, opened it +wide, and sat down before it. It was a homely, workaday-looking book, +and she did not read a word of it, though her eyes were upon the page. +But it was the Bible. And the Bible is like the sunshine, it comforts +and cheers us only to sit down in its presence. + +And very soon Joan lifted her hand and laid it across the open page. +It was like taking the hand of a friend. God knows what strength, what +virtue, there was in that movement! For she immediately covered her +face with her other hand and tears began to fall, and anon mighty +whispered words parted her lips--words that went from the mother's +heart to the heart of God! How can such prayer ever fail? + +In the morning John Penelles met his daughter, not with the petulant +anger of a wounded woman, but with a graver and more reasonable +reproof. "Denas, my dear," he said, and he gently stroked her hair as +he spoke, "Denas, you didn't do right yesterday; did you now? But you +do be sorry for it, I see; so let the trouble go. But no more of it! +No more out in the dark, my girl, either for bride-making or for +corpse-waking, and as for the man who kept you out, let him ask God to +keep him from under my hand. That is all about it. Come and give +father his tea, and then we will mend the nets together; and if +Saturday be fair, Denas, we will go to St. Merryn and see your Aunt +Agnes. 'You don't want to go?' Aw, yes, my dear, you do want to go. +You be vexed now; and not you that should be vexed at all, but your +mother and I. There, then! No more of it!" + +He spoke the last words as if he was at the end of his patience, and +then turned sharply toward the broiled fish and hot tea which Joan was +placing on the table. The face of Denas angered him, it was so +indifferent and so wretched. He could have laughed away a little +temper and excused it, for he was not an unjust nor even an +unsympathetic man; and he realized his daughter's youth and her +natural craving for those things which youth considers desirable. + +But the utter hopelessness of her attitude, her refusal to eat, her +silence, her sighs, the unsuitableness of the dress she wore to the +humble duties of her station, her disinclination to talk of what +troubled her, or indeed to talk at all--both John and Joan felt these +things to be a wrong, deliberate and perpetual, against their love and +their home and their daily happiness. + +It was certainly a great and sudden change in the life of Denas. For +the past eight weeks she had been in an atmosphere of excitement, +tinctured with the subtle hopes and expectations of love. In it she +had grown mentally far beyond the realization of her friends. She had +observed, assimilated, and translated her new ideas through her own +personality as far as her means permitted. If her mother and father +had looked carefully at their daughter, they would have seen how much +more effectively her hair was arranged; what piquancy of mode had been +observed in the making of her new dresses; what careful pride had +dictated the fashion and fit of her high-heeled shoes; what trouble +was systematically taken to preserve her delicate skin and to restore +the natural beauty of her hands--in short, they must have noticed that +their child's toilet and general appearance was being gradually but +still rapidly removed from all fitness with her present surroundings. + +And just after Elizabeth's marriage came on the hardest and most +distinctive part of the fisher's year. All along the rocky coast the +"huers" were standing watching for the shoals of pilchard, and the men +were in the boats beneath, waiting for their signal to shoot the +seines. Every fisher had now, in an intense degree, the look which +always distinguishes him--the look of a man accustomed to reflect and +to be ready for emergencies. This year the shoals were so large that +boat-loads were caught easily in fifty feet of water. + +Then every wife in the hamlet had her hands full and busy from dawn +till dark; and Joan went to the work with an exuberant alacrity and +good nature. In former years Denas had felt all the enthusiasm of the +great sea harvest. This year she could not endure its clamour and its +labour. What had happened to her that the sight of the beautiful fish +was offensive and the smell of its curing intolerable? She shut her +eyes from the silvery heaps and would gladly have closed her ears +against the jubilant mirth, the shouting and laughing and singing +around her. + +Her intense repugnance did really at last breed in her a low fever, +which she almost gladly succumbed to. She thought it easier to lie in +bed and suffer in solitude than to put her arms to her white elbows in +fresh fish and bear the familiar jokes of the busy, merry workers in +the curing-sheds. Denas was not really responsible for this change. It +had grown into her nature, day by day and week by week, while she was +unconscious of any transforming power. The little reluctances which +had marked its first appearance had been of small note; her father and +mother had only laughingly reproved them, telling her "not to nourish +prideful notions." She had not even been aware of nourishing anything +wrong. Was it wrong? She lay tossing on her bed in the small warm +room, and argued the question out while fever burned in her veins and +gave to all things abnormal and extravagant aspects. + +She was really ill, and she almost wished she could be more ill. No +one quite believed she was suffering much. The headache and languor +incident to her condition did not win much sympathy until their +ravages became apparent. Then Joan honestly believed that a little +exercise in the fresh salt air would have cured, perhaps even +prevented, the illness. So that at this time Denas thought herself +very unkindly used. + +This apparent lack of interest in her condition added greatly to that +dissatisfaction with her life which she now constantly dwelt upon. She +felt that she must do something to escape from an existence which +repelled her; and yet what could she do? Somehow she had suddenly lost +faith in Elizabeth. Elizabeth changed before she went away; who could +say how much greater the change would be when she returned after four +months' travel? + +Denas at this time pitied herself greatly, and taking women as they +are, and not as they ought to be, she deserved some pity. For though +it may not be a lofty ambition to long after a finely appointed house, +and delicate food delicately served, and elegant clothing and refined +society, and, with all and above all, a lover who fits into such +externals, yet Denas did long for these things; and the circumstances +of her own life were common, and vulgar, and hateful to her. + +True, she had her father and mother, and she loved them dearly; but, +then, she could undoubtedly love them quite as well if she were rich, +while they would not love her any the less. As for Tris Penrose and +his tiresome devotion, what was Tris to Roland? Tris did not even know +how to woo her. He never told her how beautiful she was, and how he +adored her, and longed for her, and thought all women wearisome but +her. He never kissed her hands and her hair, her cheeks and her lips, +as Roland did. He never said to her, "You are fit to be a duchess or a +queen; you sing like a nightingale and charm my soul out of me, and +you have hands and feet like a fairy." Poor Tris! He was stupid and +silent. He could only look and sigh, or, if he did manage to speak, he +was sure to plunge into such final questions as, "Denas, will you +marry me? When will you marry me?" Or to tell her of his stone +cottage, and his fine boat, and the money he had in the St. Merryn's +Savings Bank. + +For three weeks this silent conflict went on in the mind and heart of +Denas, an unsatisfactory fight in which no victory was gained. At the +end she was no more mistress of her inclinations than at the +beginning, and her returning health only intensified her longings for +the things she had not. One morning she awoke with the conviction that +there was a letter for her at St. Clair. She determined to go and see. +She said to her mother that she felt almost well and would try to take +a walk. And Joan was glad and encouraged the idea. + +"Go down to the sea-shore, Denas, and breathe the living air; do, my +sweetheart!" + +"No, mother. There are crowds there and the smell of fish, and--I +can't help it, mother--it turns me sick; it makes me feverish. I want +to go among the trees and flowers." + +"Aw, my dear, you will be climbing and climbing up to St. Penfer; and +you be weak yet and not able to." + +"I will not climb at all. I will walk near the shingle; and I will +take a bit of bread with me and a drink of milk; then I can rest all +day on the grass, mother." + +"God bless you, dear! And see now, come home while the sun is +warm--and take care of yourself, Denas." + +Then Joan went to the curing-sheds. She had a light heart, for Denas +was more like her old self, and after going a hundred yards she turned +to nod to her girl, and was glad that she was watching her and that +she waved her kerchief in reply. Something heavy slipped from Joan's +heart at that moment and her work went with her all day long. + +It was two miles to St. Clair, but Denas walked there very rapidly. +She remembered that Pyn's cottage was the first cottage; and as she +approached it the boatman came to the door. He looked at her with a +grave curiosity, and she went straight up to him and said: "Have you a +letter for me?" + +"I do think I have. You be John Penelles' little girl?" + +"Yes." + +"I knew John years ago. We sat in the same boat. I like John--he is a +true man. Here be three letters. At first I thought these letters be +going to bring a deal of potter and bother--maybe something worse--and +I will put them in the fire. Then I thought, they bean't your letters, +Pyn, and if you want to keep yourself out of a mess, never interfere +and never volunteer. So here they be. But if you will take an old +man's advice, I do say to you, burn the letters. It will be better far +than to be reading them." + +"Why will it be better?" + +"There be letters worse than death drugs. If you do buy a bottle of +arsenic, the man will put its character on the bottle. You see +'poison' and you be warned. But young men do write poison, and worse +than poison, to young women, and no warning outside the letter. It +isn't fair, now, is it?" + +"Why did you take charge of the poison?" + +"To be sure! Why did I? Just because it was for John Penelles' little +girl, and I thought mayhap she'd take a warning from me. Don't you +read them letters, my dear. If you do, let the words go in at one ear +and out of the other. Roland Tresham! he be nothing to trust to! Aw, +my dear--a leaky boat--a boat adrift; no man at the helm; no helm to +man; no sail; no compass; no anchor; no anything for a woman to trust +to! There, then, I have had my say; if this say be of no 'count, +twould be the same if I talked my tongue away. If you come again and +there be any letters, you will find them under the turned boat--slip +your hand in--so. Dear me! You be fluttering and wuttering like a +bird. Poor dear! Step into my boat and I'll put you back home. You +look as quailed as a faded flower." + +Thus Pyn talked as he helped Denas into the boat and slowly settled +himself to the oars. Afterward he said nothing, but he looked at Denas +in a way that troubled her and made her thankful to escape his silent, +pitiful condemnation. Her mother was still absent when she reached the +cottage, and she was so weary that she was very grateful for the +solitude. She shut her eyes for a few minutes and collected her +strength, and then opened Roland's letters. + +They were full of happiness--full of wonders--full of love. He was +going to Switzerland with his father. Elizabeth was there, and Miss +Caroline Burrell, and a great many people whom they knew. But for him, +no one was there. "Denas was all he longed for, cared for, lived for!" +Oh, much more of the same kind, for Roland's love lay at the point of +his pen. + +And he told her also that he had heard many singers, many famous +singers, and none with a voice so wildly sweet, so enthralling as her +voice. "If you were only on the stage, Denas," he wrote, "you could +sing the world to your feet; you could make a great fortune; you could +do anything you liked to do." + +The words entered her heart. They burned along her veins, they filled +her imagination with a thousand wild dreams. She put the fatal letters +safely away, and then, stretching her weary form upon her bed, she +closed her eyes and began to think. + +Why should she cure fish, and mend nets, and clean tables and +tea-cups, if she possessed such a marvellous gift? Why should her +father go fishing with his life in his hand, and her mother work hard +from dawn to dark, and she herself want all the beautiful things her +soul craved? And how would Elizabeth feel? Perhaps they might be glad +enough yet if she married Roland. And as the possibility of returning +social slights presented itself, she remembered many a debt of this +kind it would be a joy to satisfy. And then Roland! Roland! Roland! He +had always believed in her; always loved her. She would repay his +trust and love a thousand-fold. What a joy it would be! + +So she permitted herself to grasp impossibilities, to possess +everything she desired. Well, in this life, what mortals know is but +very little; what they imagine--ah, that is everything! + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +WHAT SHALL BE DONE FOR ROLAND? + + "When, lulled in passion's dream, my senses slept, + How did I act?--E'en as a wayward child. + I smiled with pleasure when I should have wept, + And wept with sorrow when I should have smiled." + --MONCRIEFF. + + "Love not, love not! O warning vainly said + In present years, as in the years gone by; + Love flings a halo round the dear one's head, + Faultless, immortal--till they change or die." + --HON. MRS. NORTON. + + +Hope has a long reach, and yet it holds fast. So, though Roland's +return was far enough away, Denas possessed it in anticipation. The +belief that he would come, that he would give her sympathy and +assistance, helped her through the long sameness of uneventful days by +the witching promise, "Anon--anon!" + +There was little to vary life in that quiet hamlet. The pilchard +season went, as it had come, in a day; men counted their gains and +returned to their usual life. Denas tried to accept it cheerfully; she +felt that it would soon be a past life, and this conviction helped her +to invest it with some of that tender charm which clings to whatever +enters the pathetic realm of "Nevermore." + +Her parents were singularly kind to her, and John tried to give a +little excitement to her life by coaxing her to share with him the +things he considered quite stirring. But visits to her aunt at St. +Merryn, and Sunday trips to hear some new preacher, and choir +practisings with Tris dangling after them wherever they went, were not +interesting to the wayward girl. She only endured them, as she endured +her daily duties by keeping steadily in view the hope Roland had set +before her. However, as she sang nearly constantly, Joan's mind was +easy; she was sure Denas could not be very discontented, for it never +entered Joan's thought that people could sing unless there was melody +in their heart. And undoubtedly Denas was cheered by her own music, +for if song is given half a chance it has the miraculous power of +turning the water of life into wine. + +Only two more letters repaid her for many walks to the turned boat, +and she did not see Pyn again. She was sure, however, that he knew of +her visits and wilfully avoided her. The last of these letters +contained the startling intelligence of Mr. Tresham's death. He had +foolishly insisted upon visiting Rome in the unhealthy season and had +fallen a victim to fever. Roland wrote in a very depressed mood. He +said that his father's death would make a great difference to him. In +a short time the news arrived by the regular sources. Lawyer Tremaine +had been advised to take charge of Mr. Tresham's personal estate, and +the newspaper of the district had a long obituary of the deceased +gentleman. + +John said very little on the subject. He had not liked Mr. Tresham +while living, but he was particularly careful to avoid speaking ill of +the dead. He said only that he had heard that "the effects left would +barely cover outstanding debts, and that Mr. Tresham's income died +with him. 'Tis a good thing Miss Tresham be well married," he added, +"else 'twould have been whist hard times for her now." + +Denas did not answer. Her sudden and apparently unreasonable +indifference to her former friend was one of the many mental changes +which she could not account for. But she waited impatiently for some +word about Roland. John appeared to have nothing to say. Joan +hesitated with the question on her lips, and at last she almost threw +it at her husband. + +"What did you hear about young Mr. Tresham?" + +"I asked no questions about him. People do say that he will have to go +to honest work now. 'Twill do him no harm, I'm sure." + +"Honest work will be nothing strange to him, father. He has been in a +great many offices. I have heard Elizabeth speaking of many a one." + +"I'll warrant--many a one--and he never stays in any. He has a bad +temper for work." + +"Bad temper! That is not true. Mr. Roland has a very good temper." + +"Good temper! To be sure, after a fashion, a kind of _Hy-to-everybody_ +fashion. But a good business temper, Denas, be a different thing; it +be steady, patient, civil, quiet, hard-to-work temper, and the young man +has not got it. No, nor the shadow of it. If he was worth thousands +this year he wouldn't have a farthing next year unless he had a +guider and a withholder by his side constantly." + +"You ought not to speak of Mr. Roland at all, father, you hate him +that badly." + +"Right you be, Denas. I ought not to speak of the young man. I will +let him alone. And I'll thank every one in my house to do the same +thing." + +For some weeks John's orders were carefully observed. Denas got no +more letters, and the summer weather became autumn weather; and then +the leaves faded and began to fall, and the equinoctial storm set the +seal of advancing winter on the cliff-breast. Yet through all these +changes the clock ticked the monotonous days surely away, and one +morning when Denas was standing alone in the cottage door a little lad +slipped up and put a letter into her hand. + +He was gone in a moment, and Denas, even while answering a remark of +her mother's, who was busy at the fireside, hid the message in her +bosom. Of course it was from Roland. He said that they had all +returned to Burrell Court and that he could not rest until he had seen +her. Wet or fine, he begged she would be at their old trysting-place +that evening. + +Then she began to consider how this was to be managed, and she came to +the conclusion that a visit to St. Penfer was the best way. She knew +well how to prepare for it--the little helps, and confidences, and +personal chatter Joan was always pleased and flattered by were the +wedge. Then as they washed the dinner dishes and tidied the house +together, Denas said: + +"Mother, it is going to storm soon, and then whole days to sit and sew +and nothing to talk about. Priscilla Mohun promised me some pretty +pieces for my quilt, and Priscilla always knows everything that is +going on. What do you think? Shall I go there this afternoon? I could +get the patches and hear the news and bring back a story paper, and so +be home before you would have time to miss me." + +"Well, my dear, we do feel to be talked out." + +"Priscilla will tell me all there is to hear, and if I get the +patches, a few days' sewing and the quilt will be ready for you to +cross-stitch; and a story paper is such a comfort when the storm is +beating you back to house every hour of the day." + +"You say right--it be a great comfort. But you will have to be busy +all, for it is like enough to rain within an hour--the tide will bring +it, I'll warrant." + +"I will wear my waterproof. Mother, dear, I do want a little change so +much--just to see some new faces and hear tell of the St. Penfer +people." + +"Well, then, go your way, Denas, a wetting will do you no harm; and I +do know the days be long days, and the nights do never seem to come to +midnight and then wear to cock-crow. 'Twould be a whist poor life, my +dear, if this life were all." + +Denas was now very anxious to get off before her father came back from +his afternoon gossip at the boats. With a gay heart she left her home +and hastened to St. Penfer to execute the things that had been her +ostensible reason for the visit. As it happened, Priscilla Mohun was +full of news. The first thing she said to Denas related to the return +of the Burrells, and then followed all the gossip about the treasures +they had brought with them and changes to be made in the domestic life +of the Court. + +"Mrs. Burrell be going to turn things upside down, I can tell you, +Denas. They do say four new servants are hired, two men and two women; +and the horses brought down are past talking about, with silver +trimmings on their harness--that, and no less--and carriages of all +kinds, and one kind finer than the other! I do suppose Mrs. Burrell's +gowns will be all London or Paris bought now; though to be sure poor +Priscilla did make her wedding-dress--but there, then! what be the use +of talking?" + +"How long have they been at home?" asked Denas. + +"La! I thought if anybody knew that it would be you. I was just taking +a walk last Wednesday, and I happened to see them driving through the +town; Mr. Burrell and his sister, and Mrs. Burrell and her handsome +brother--how happy they looked, and everyone lifting their hats or +making a respectful move to them." + +Last Wednesday! and it was now Monday. Denas was dashed by the news. +But she chattered away about everyone they knew, and got her patches, +and her story paper, and then, just as the gloaming was losing itself +in the fog from the sea, she started down the cliff. Roland was +waiting for her. He took her in his arms and kissed her with an eager +and delighted affection; and though the fog had changed to a soft +rain, neither of them appeared to be uncomfortably aware of the fact. +Denas drew the hood of her waterproof over her head and Roland the +heavy collar of his coat about his ears, and they sat close together +on the damp rock, with Roland's umbrella over them. + +There was so much to say that they really said nothing. When they had +but half finished repeating "Sweet Denas!" and "Dear Roland!" Denas +had to go. It was only then she found courage to intimate, in a +half-frightened way, that she had been thinking and wondering about +her voice, and if she really could learn to sing. Roland flushed with +delight to find the seed he had sown with so much doubt grown up to +strength and ripeness. + +"My lovely one!" he answered, "you must go to London and have lessons; +and I will take care of you. I will see that you have justice and that +no one hurts you." + +"But where could I live? And how? I have one hundred pounds of my own. +Will that be enough?" + +"You little capitalist! How did you get a hundred pounds?" + +"Father has put a few pounds in the bank at St. Merryn every year +since I was born for me, and I have put there all the money your +sister paid me. Father said it was to furnish my home when I got +married, but I would rather spend it on my voice." + +"I should think so. Well, Beauty, you are to come and see Elizabeth +off Wednesday; then I shall have something sweet and wonderful to say +to you." + +"Will Elizabeth send for me? That would make it easy." + +"I do not think Elizabeth will send for you. I have been hoping for +that. She has not named you at all. For my sake, come to the Court on +Wednesday." + +"It is a long way to walk, but for your sake I will come." + +Then they parted, and she hastened back and reached home just as John +and Joan were beginning to be uneasy at her delay. The sight of her +happy face, the charming little fuss she made about her dripping +waterproof and her wet shoes, the perfectly winning way in which she +took possession of her father's knee and from it warmed her bare rosy +feet at the blaze scattered all shadows. She took their fears and +nascent anger by storm; she exhibited her many-coloured bits of cloth, +and showed John the pictures in the story paper, and coaxingly begged +her mother for a cup of tea, because she was cold and hungry. And +then, as Joan made the tea and the toast, Denas related all that +Priscilla had told her. And Joan wondered and exclaimed, and John +listened with a pleased interest, though he thought it right to say a +word about speaking ill of people, and was snubbed by Joan for doing +so. + +"Mrs. Burrell is putting on grand airs, it seems, so then it will go +that people of course will speak ill of her," said Joan. + +"Aw, my dear," answered John, "few are better spoken of than they +deserve." + +"I do think Denas ought to call on the bride," said Joan. "It would +only be friendly, and many will make a talk about it if she does not +go." + +"She must find out, first, if the young man be there." + +"No," said Denas warmly, "I will not find out. If you cannot trust +your little maid, father, then do not let her go at all. If people +could hear you talk they would say, 'What a bad girl John Penelles +has! He dare not let her go to see her friend if there be a young man +in the house.' 'Tis a shame, isn't it, mother?" + +"I think it be, Denas. Father isn't so cruel suspicious as that, my +dear. Are you, father?" + +And what could John answer? Though sorely against his feeling and his +judgment, he was induced to agree that Denas ought perhaps to call +once on the bride. There were so many plausible arguments in favour of +such a visit; there was nothing but shadowy doubts and fears against +it. + +"Go to-morrow, then," said John, a little impatiently; "and let me be +done with the fret of it." + +"The day after-to-morrow, or Wednesday, father. To-morrow it will be +still raining, no doubt, and I have something to alter in my best +dress. I want to look as fine as I can, father." + +"Look like yourself and your people, Denas. That be the best finery. +If roses and lilies did grow on the dusty high-road, they would not be +as fitly pretty as blue-bells and daisies. I do think that, Denas; and +it be the very same with women. Burrell Court is a matter of two miles +beyond St. Penfer; 'tis a long walk, my dear, and dress for the walk +and the weather. Do, my dear!" + +Then the subject was changed, and Denas, having won her way, was +really grateful and disposed to make the evening happy for all. She +recollected many a little bit of pleasantry; she mimicked Priscilla to +admiration, merrily and without ill-will, and then she took the story +paper and read a thrilling account of some great shipwrecks and a poem +that seemed to John and Joan's simple minds "the sweetest bit of word +music that could be." + +At the same hour Elizabeth and Roland were playing an identical role +under different circumstances. Roland had hoped to slip away to his +room unobserved. He knew Miss Burrell had gone to a friend's house +for a day or two, and he thought Robert and Elizabeth would be +sufficiently occupied with each other. But some gentlemen were with +Robert on parish business, and Elizabeth was alone and well inclined +to come to an understanding with her brother. + +"Caroline had to go without an escort, Roland. It was too bad," she +said reproachfully as she stood in the open door of a parlour and +waited for his approach. + +"You see I am wet through, Elizabeth. I will change my clothing and +come to you. Where is Robert?" + +"With the churchwardens. I want to talk to you seriously. We shall be +alone for an hour. Come as soon as you can." + +"In five minutes. It will be delightful to have you all to myself once +more." + +He came back quickly and placed his chair close to hers, and lifted +her face to his face and kissed her, saying fondly, "My dear little +sister." + +"Where have you been, Roland?" + +"I could have bet on the words 'Where have you been?' That is always a +woman's first question." + +"Have you been with Denas?" + +"I have been at the Black Lion and at Tremaine's. We will suppose that +I wished to see Denas--is this pouring rain a fit condition? Do think +of something more likely, Elizabeth." + +"Say to me plainly: 'I have not seen Denas.'" + +"If you wish me to say the words, consider that I have done so. Why +have you taken a dislike to Denas? You used to be very fond of her." + +"I have not taken any dislike to the girl. I have simply passed out of +the season of liking her. In the early spring we find the violet +charming, but when summer comes we forget the violet in the rose and +the lily and the garden full of richer flowers. The time for Denas has +passed--that is all, Roland. What are you going to do about Caroline? +When will you ask her to marry you?" + +"I have asked her twice already; once in Rome, when she put me off; +and again in London, when she decidedly refused me." + +"What did she say?" + +"That she believed she could trust herself to my love, because she did +not think I would be unkind to any woman; but she was sure she could +not trust me with her fortune, because I would waste it without any +intention of being wasteful. Caroline wants a financier, not a +lover." + +"The idea!" + +"She talked about the responsibilities of wealth." + +"How could she talk to you in that way?" + +"She did--really." + +"Then Caroline is out of reckoning." + +"Between ourselves, I think she was right, Elizabeth. I am positive I +should spend any sum of money. What I need is a wife who can make +money week by week, year by year--always something coming in; like an +opera-singer, for instance. Do you understand?" + +"Could you expect me to understand such nonsense? I asked Robert +to-day about poor father's estate. He thinks there may be four or five +hundred pounds after paying all debts. Of course you will receive it +all. Robert is very kind, but I can see that he would prefer that you +were not always at the Court." + +"I daresay he put Caroline up to refuse me." + +"I have no doubt of it. He would consider it a brotherly duty; and to +tell the truth, Roland, I fear you would give any woman lots of +heartache. I cannot tell what must be done. You have had so many good +business chances, and yet never made anything of them." + +"That is true, Elizabeth. If I take to a business, it fails. If I +dream of some fine prospect, the dream does not come true. In fact, my +dear sister, + + "'I never had a piece of toast + Particularly long and wide, + But it fell on the sanded floor, + And always on the buttered side.' + +Still, there is one thing I can do when all else fails: I can take the +Queen's shilling and go in for glory." + +"Roland, you break my heart with your folly. Why will you not be +reasonable? How could I ever show my face if you were a common +soldier? But the army is a good thought. Suppose you do try the army. +I daresay Robert can get you a commission--at the right time, of +course." + +"Thanks! I do not think the army would agree with me; not, at any +rate, until I had played my last card. And if I have to make a hero of +myself, I shall certainly prefer the position of a full private. It is +the privates that do the glory business. I would join the army as +Private Smith; for though + + "'Some talk of Alexander, + And some of Hercules, + And of many a great commander + As glorious as these; + If you want to know a hero + Of genuine pluck and pith, + It's perfectly clear that none come near + The full British private Smith.'" + +And he declaimed his mock heroics so delightfully that Elizabeth not +only succumbed to his charm, but also wondered in her heart why +everyone else did not. + +"You see, sweet sister, that wealth is not exactly the same thing as +shining virtue, or else Caroline would have been generous. I am sure I +should be particularly grateful to any woman who made me rich." + +"Why woman, Roland?" + +"Well, because if a man puts any money in my way he expects me to +work for it and with it; to invest it and double it; to give an +account of it; to sacrifice myself body and soul for it. But a dear +little darling woman would never ask me questions and never worry me +about interest. She would take love and kisses as full value +received--unless she was a girl like Caroline, an unwomanly, +mercenary, practical, matter-of-money creature." + +"Do not talk in that way of Caroline." + +"I am talking of her money, and it is no impeachment of its value to +say that it is mortal like herself. Still, I am ready to acknowledge + + "'How pleasant it is to have money, heigho! + How pleasant it is to have money!' + +and as much of it as possible, Elizabeth." + +"We come to no definite results by talking in this way, Roland. When +you get to singing snatches of song I may as well be quiet. And yet I +am so unhappy about you. O Roland! Roland! my dear, dear brother, what +can I do for you?" + +She covered her face with her hands, and Roland took them away with +gentle force. "Elizabeth, do not cry for me. I am not worth a tear. +Darling, I will do anything you want me to do." + +"If I get Robert to give you a desk in the bank?" + +"Well, love, anything but that. I really cannot bear the confinement. +I should die of consumption; besides, I have a moral weakness, +Elizabeth, that I am bound to consider--there are times, dear, when I +get awfully mixed and cannot help + + "'Confounding the difference 'twixt _meum_ and _tuum_ + By kindly converting it all into _suum_.'" + +"O Roland, I really do not know what you are fit for!" + +"If I had been born three or four centuries ago I could have been +a knight-errant or a troubadour. But alas! in these days the +knight-errants go to the Stock Exchange and the troubadours write +for the newspapers. I am not fitted to wrestle with the wild beasts of +the money market; I would rather go to Spain and be a matador." + +"Roland, here comes Robert. Do try and talk like a man of ordinary +intelligence. Robert wants to like you--wants to help you if you will +let him." + +"Yes, in his way. I want to be helped in my own way. Good-evening, +Robert! I am glad you were not caught in the rain." + +The grave face brightened to the charm of the young man, and then for +an hour Roland delighted his sister by his sensible consideration, by +his patient attention to some uninteresting details, by his prudence +in speaking of the future; so that Robert said confidentially to his +wife that night: + +"Roland is a delightful young man. There must be some niche he can +fill with honour. I wonder that Caroline could resist his attentions. +Yet she told me to-day that she had refused him twice." + +"Caroline is moved by her intellect, not by her heart. Also, she is +very Vere-de-Vereish, and she has set her mark for a lord, at least." + +"What can be done for Roland?" + +"He talked of going into the army." + +"Nonsense! Going into the army means, for Roland, going into every +possible temptation and expense--that would not do. But he ought to be +away from this little town. He will be making mischief if he cannot +find it ready-made." + +"I am very uneasy about that girl from the fishing village, the girl +whom I used to have with me a great deal." + +"Denas--the girl with the wonderful voice?" + +"Yes. Did you think her voice wonderful?" + +"Perhaps I should say haunting voice. She had certainly some unusual +gift. I do not pretend to be able to define it. But I remember every +line of the first measure I heard her sing. Many a time since I have +thought my soul was singing it for its own pleasure, without caring +whether I liked it or not; for when mentally reckoning up a +transaction I have heard quite distinctly the rhythmical rolling +cadence, like sea wave, to which the words were set. I hear it now." + +"Upon my word, Robert, you are very complimentary to Denas. I shall be +jealous, my dear." + +"Not complimentary to Denas at all. I hardly remember what the girl +looked like. And it is not worth while being jealous of a voice, for I +can assure you, Elizabeth, a haunting song is a most unwelcome visitor +when your brain is full of figures. And somehow it generally managed +to come at a time when the bank and the street were both in a tumult +with the sound of men's voices, the roll of wagons, and the tramp of +horses' feet." + +"A song of the sea in the roar of the city! How strange! I am curious +to hear it: I have forgotten most of the songs Denas sang." + +"The roar of the city appeared to provoke it. When it was loudest I +usually heard most clearly the sweet thrilling echo, asking + + "'What is the tale of the sea, mother? + What is the tale of the wide, wide sea?' + 'Merry and sad are the tales, my darling, + Merry and sad as tales may be. + Those ships that sail in the happy mornings, + Full of the lives and souls of men, + Some will never come back, my darling; + Some will never come back again!'" + +And as Elizabeth listened to her husband half singing the charmful +words, she took a sudden dislike to Denas. But she said: "The song is +a lovely song, and I must send for Denas to sing it again for us." In +her heart she resolved never to send for Denas; "though if she does +come"--and at this point Elizabeth held herself in pause for a minute +ere she decided resolutely--"if she does come I will do what is right. +I will be kind to her. She cannot help her witching voice--only--only +I must step between her and Roland--that is for the good of both;" and +she fell asleep, planning for this emergency. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ELIZABETH AND DENAS. + + "There is no hate in a woman which is not born of love." + + "Ever note, Lucilius, + When love begins to slacken and decay, + It uses an enforced ceremony: + There are no tricks in plain and simple faith." + --JULIUS CAESAR. + + +The rain was over on Wednesday morning, but the day was gray and chill +and the crisping turf and the hardening road indicated a coming frost. +There was nothing, however, to prevent the contemplated visit to +Burrell Court, and a painful momentary shadow flitted over John's face +when Denas came to breakfast in her new ruby-coloured merino dress. +She was so pretty, so full of the importance of her trip, so +affectionate, that he could not say a word to dash her spirits or warn +her carelessness, and yet he had a quick spasm of terror about the +danger she was going so gayly into. Of what use, alas! are our +premonitions if they do not bring with them the inexorable moral +courage necessary to enforce their warnings? + +Denas had been accustomed to go to Elizabeth's very early in the +morning, and it did not come into her mind to make any change in this +respect because of Elizabeth's marriage. So after she had taken her +breakfast she put on her hat and ulster and her warm wool gloves and +took the cliff road. John, with his pipe in his mouth, leaned against +the door lintel and watched her. Joan stood by his side for a moment, +following with her eyes the graceful figure of her child, but she +quickly went back to her work. John's work was over for the day; he +had come in on the dawn tide with a good take. So he stood at the +door, in spite of the frosty air, and watched his little maid climb +the hilly road with the elastic step and untiring breath of happy +youth. + +It was then only eight o'clock. No one at her home had thought the +hour too early. But when she reached Burrell Court Elizabeth had not +come downstairs and breakfast was not yet served. She was much annoyed +and embarrassed by the attitude of the servants. She had no +visiting-card, and the footman declined to disturb Mrs. Burrell at her +toilet. "Miss could wait," he said with an air of familiarity which +greatly offended Denas. For she considered herself, as the child of a +fisherman owning his own cottage and boat and lord of all the leagues +of ocean where he chose to cast his nets, immeasurably the superior of +any servant, no matter how fine his livery might be. + +She sat down in the small reception-room into which she had been shown +and waited. She heard Elizabeth and her husband go through the hall +together, and the pleasant odours of coffee and broiled meats +certified to the serving of breakfast. But no one came near her. As +the minutes slipped away her wonder became anger; and she was +resolving to leave the inhospitable house when she heard Roland's +step. He came slowly down the polished oak stairs, went to the front +door, opened it and looked out into the frosty day; then turning +rapidly in from the cold, he went whistling softly through the hall to +the breakfast-room. + +Just as he entered the footman was saying: "A young person, ma'am. She +had no card, and when I asked her name she only looked at me, ma'am." + +"Where did you put her?" asked Elizabeth. + +"In the small reception-room." + +"Is the room warm?" + +"Not very cold, ma'am." + +At this point Robert Burrell looked at his wife and said: "It is +perhaps that little friend of yours, called Denas." + +"Jove!" ejaculated Roland. "I should not wonder. You know, Elizabeth, +she was always an early visitor. Shall I go and see?" + +"Frederick will go. Frederick, ask the young person her name." In a +few moments Frederick returned and said, "Miss Penelles is the name." + +Then Robert Burrell and Roland both looked at Elizabeth. She had a +momentary struggle with herself; she hesitated, her brows made +themselves into a point, her colour heightened, and the dead silence +gave her a most eloquent chance to listen to her own heart. She rose +with leisurely composure and left the room. Mr. Burrell and Roland +took no notice of the movement. Mr. Burrell had his watch in his +hand; Roland was directing Frederick as to the particular piece of +fowl he wanted. Then there was a little laugh and the sound of voices, +and Elizabeth and Denas entered together. Elizabeth had made Denas +remove her hat and cloak, and the girl was exceedingly pretty. Roland +leaped to his feet and imperatively motioned Frederick to place a +chair beside his own, and Robert Burrell met her with a frank kindness +which was pleasantly reassuring. + +Denas had been feeling wronged and humiliated, but Elizabeth by a few +kind words of apology had caused a reaction which affected her +inexperienced guest with a kind of mental intoxication. Her +countenance glowed, her eyes sparkled, her hair appeared to throw off +light; her ruby-coloured dress with its edges of white lace +accentuated the marvellous colouring of her cheeks and lips, the +snow-white of her wide brows and slender throat, and the intense blue +of eyes that had caught the brightest tone of sea and sky. + +She talked well, she was witty without being ill-natured, and she +described all that had happened in the little town since Elizabeth's +wedding-day with a subdued and charming mimicry that made the room +ring with laughter. Also, she ate her breakfast with such evident +enjoyment that she gave an appetite to the others. All took an extra +cup of coffee with her, and it seemed only a part of the general +conversation and delightful intercourse. + +After breakfast Robert Burrell said he would delay his visit to London +for a train if Denas would sing for him once more; and they went +together to the parlour, and Roland fell at once into the rocking +measure of Robert's favourite, and in the middle of a bar Denas joined +her voice to it, and they went together as the wind goes through the +trees or the song of the water through its limpid flow. + +As she finished, Roland looked at her with a certain intelligence in +his eyes, and then struck a few wild, startling chords. They proved to +be the basis of a sea-chant. Denas heard them with a quick movement of +her head and an involuntary though slight movement of the hands, as +she cried out in a musical cadence: + + "Here beginneth the sea, + That ends not until the world ends. + Blow, westerly wind, for me! + When the wind and the tide are friends, + Westerly wind and little white star, + Safe are the fishermen over the bar." + +She would sing no more when the chant was finished. She had seen a +look on Elizabeth's face, not intended for her to see, which took the +music out of her heart. Yet she had sung enough, for she had never +before sung so well. She was astonished at her own power, and Robert +Burrell thanked her with a sincerity beyond question. + +"My brain will be among figures all the way to London, Miss Penelles," +he said, "but I am quite sure my soul will be wandering on the +shingle, and feeling the blowing winds, and hearing the plash of the +waves, and singing with all its power: + + "'Here beginneth the sea, + That ends not till the world ends.'" + +Then he went away, and Elizabeth took her embroidery and sat down with +Denas. A great gulf suddenly opened between them. There was no subject +to talk about. Elizabeth had sent Roland away on the double pretence +of wanting him to take a message to Caroline and of wanting to have +Denas all to herself. And she watched Roland so cleverly that he had +no opportunity to say a word to Denas; and yet he had, for in bidding +her good-bye he managed, by the quick lift of his brows and the +wide-open look in his eyes, to give her assurance that he would be at +their usual place of meeting. Elizabeth was a clever woman, but no +match for a man who has love in his heart and his eyes to speak for +him. + +So she had Denas all to herself, and then, in spite of everything she +could do, her manner became indifferent and icy. She asked after John +and Joan and more pointedly after Tris. And Denas thought there could +be no harm in talking of Tris and his affection for her. She chattered +away until she felt she was not being listened to. Then she tried to +talk of the past; Elizabeth said it was so associated with poor papa +she would rather not talk of it. It was very painful to her, and she +had promised Mr. Burrell not to indulge in painful thoughts. So Denas +felt that the past was a shut and clasped book between them for ever. + +Nothing remained but to ask Elizabeth about her wedding-trip. She +answered her, but not as she would have answered an acquaintance of +her own circle. In her heart she felt it to be a presumption in Denas. +Why should this girl question her about her opinions and doings? Her +conscience had continually to urge her to justice, and she felt the +strife of feeling to be very uncomfortable. + +Denas had hoped to be shown all the pretty dresses and cloaks and +knick-knacks of fine wearing apparel that Elizabeth had bought in +London, Paris, and other European capitals. These things had been much +talked of in the town, and it would have been a little distinction to +Denas to have seen and handled them. Perhaps, also, there had been, in +her deepest consciousness, a hope that Elizabeth had brought her some +special gift--some trinket that she could be proud of all her life and +keep in memory of their early friendship. + +But Elizabeth showed her nothing and gave her nothing; moreover, when +Denas spoke of the beautiful morning robe she wore, Elizabeth frowned +slightly and answered with an evident disinclination to discuss the +subject, "Yes, it is beautiful." For though Elizabeth did not analyse +the feeling, she was annoyed at even a verbal return to a time when +gowns of every kind had been a consideration worth while discussing +with one whose taste and skill would help to fashion them. Poverty +casts only shadows on memory, and few people like to stand voluntarily +again in them. + +About noon there was a visitor, and Elizabeth received her in another +room. She made an apology to Denas, but the girl, left to herself, +began to be angry with herself. She could hear Elizabeth and her +caller merrily discussing the affairs of their own set, and Elizabeth +had quite a different voice; it was sympathetic, ready to break into +laughter, full of confidential tones. Denas remembered this voice +well. She had once been used to hear it and to blend her own with it. +Her heart burned when she called to mind her old friend's excessive +civility; her hardly concealed weariness; the real coldness of feeling +which no pleasant words could warm. There was no longer any sympathy +between them; there was not even any interest which could take the +place of sympathy. Elizabeth did not really care whether Denas was +offended or not, but she had a conscience, and it urged her to be kind +and just. And she did try to obey the order, but when orders +perversely go against inclination they do not obtain a cheerful +service. + +Denas felt and thought quickly: "I am not wanted here. I ought to +go away, and I will go." These resolutions were arrived at by +apprehension, not by any definable process of reasoning. She touched +a bell, asked for her hat and cloak, left a message for Elizabeth, +and went away from Burrell Court at once. + +The rapid walk to St. Penfer relieved her feelings. "I have been +wounded to-day," she sobbed, "just as really as if Elizabeth had flung +a stone at me or stabbed me with a knife. I am heart-hurt. I am sorry +I went to see her. Why did I go? She is afraid of Roland! Good! I +shall pay her back through Roland. If she will not be a friend to me, +she may have to call me sister." Then she remembered what Roland had +said about her voice and her face was illumined by the thought, and +she lifted her head and stepped loftily to it. "She may be proud +enough of me yet. I wonder what I have done?" + +To such futile questions and reflections, she walked back to St. +Penfer. She had not yet found out that the sum of her offending lay in +her ability to add the four letters which spelled the word fair to her +name. If she had been strikingly ugly and dull, instead of strikingly +pretty and bright, Elizabeth would have found it easier to be kind and +generous to her. + +Denas went to Priscilla Mohun's. Reticence is a cultivated quality, +and Denas had none of it; so she told the whole story of her +ill-treatment to Priscilla and found her full of sympathy. Priscilla +had her own little slights to relate, and if all was true she told +Denas, then Elizabeth had managed in a week's time to offend many of +her old acquaintances irreconcilably. + +Denas remained with Priscilla until three o'clock; then she walked +down the cliff to the little glade where she hoped to find Roland. He +was not there. She calculated the distance he had to ride, she made +allowance for his taking lunch with Caroline Burrell, and she +concluded that he ought to have been at the trysting-place before she +was. She waited until four o'clock, growing more angry every moment, +then she hastened away. "I am right served," she muttered. "I will let +Roland Tresham and Elizabeth Burrell alone for the future." The tide +of anger rose swiftly in her heart, and she stepped homeward to its +flow. + +She had gone but a little way when she heard Roland calling her. She +would not answer him. She heard his rapid footsteps behind, but she +would not turn her head. When he reached her he was already vexed at +her perverse mood. "I could not get here sooner, Denas," he said +crossly. "Do be reasonable." + +"You need not have come at all." + +"Denas, stop: Listen to me. If you walk so quickly we shall be seen +from the village." + +"I wish father to see us. I will call him to come to me." + +"Denas, what have I done?" + +"You! You are a part of the whole. Your sister has taught me to-day +the difference between us. I am glad there is a difference--I intend +to forget you both from this day." + +"Will you punish me because Elizabeth was unkind?" + +"Some day you also will change just as she has done. I will not wait +for that day. No, indeed! To be sure, I shall suffer. Father, mother, +everybody suffers in one way or another. I can bear as much as others +can." + +"You are an absurd little thing. Come, darling! Come back with me! I +want to tell you a very particular secret." + +"Do you think you can pet, or coax, or tell me tales like a cross +child? I am a woman, and I have been hurt in every place a woman can +be hurt by your sister. I will not go back with you." + +"Very well, Denas. You will repent this temper, I can tell you, my +dear." + +"No, I shall not repent it. I will go to my father and mother. I will +tell them how bad I have been and ask them to forgive me. I shall +never repent that, I know." + +She drew her arm from his clasp and, without lifting her eyes to him, +went forward with a swift, purposeful step. He watched her a few +moments, and then with a dark countenance turned homeward. "This is +Elizabeth's doing," he muttered. "Elizabeth is too, too detestably +respectable for anything. I saw and felt her sugared patronage of +Denas through all her soft phrases; she treats me in the same way +sometimes. When women get a husband they are conceited enough, but +when they get a husband and money also they are--the devil only knows +what they are." + +He entered Elizabeth's presence very sulkily. Robert was in London and +there was no reason why he should keep his temper in the background. +"There is Caroline's answer," he said, throwing a letter on the table, +"and I do wish, Elizabeth, you would send me pleasanter errands in the +future. Caroline kept me waiting until she returned from a lunch at +Colonel Prynne's. And then she hurried me away because there was to be +a grand dinner-party at the Pullens'." + +"At the Pullens'? It is very strange Robert and I were not invited." + +"I should say very strange indeed, seeing that Caroline is their +guest. But Lord and Lady Avonmere were to be present, and of course +they did not want any of us." + +"Any of us? Pray, why not?" + +"Father's bankruptcy is not forgotten. We were nobodies until you +married Robert Burrell, and even Robert's money is all trade money." + +"You are purposely trying to say disagreeable things, Roland. What +fresh snub has Caroline been giving you?" + +"Snubs are common to all. Big people are snubbed by lesser people, and +these by still smaller ones, and so _ad infinitum_. You are a bit +bigger than Denas, so you snub her, and Denas, of course, passes on +the snub. Why should she not? Where is Denas?" + +"She has gone home, and I do hope she will never come here again. She +behaved very impertinently." + +"That I will not believe. Put the shoe on your own foot, Elizabeth. +You were rude before I left, and I dare swear you were rude, ruder, +rudest after you were alone with the girl. For pure spite and +ill-nature, a newly married woman beats the devil." + +"Who are you talking to, Roland?" + +"To you. I have to talk plainly to you occasionally--birds in their +little nests agree, but brothers and sisters do not; in fact, they +cannot. For instance, I should be a brute if I agreed with you about +Denas." + +"I say that Denas behaved very rudely. She went away without my +knowledge and without bidding me good-bye. I shall decline to have +any more to do with her." + +"I have no doubt she has already declined you in every possible form. +As far as I can judge, she is a spirited little creature. But +gracious! how she did sing this morning! I'll bet you fifty pounds if +Robert Burrell had heard her sing a year ago you would not have been +mistress of Burrell Court to-day." + +"Either you or I must leave the room, Roland. I will not listen any +longer to you." + +"Sit still. I am very glad to go. I shall take a room at the Black +Lion to-morrow. The atmosphere of the Court is so exquisitely rarefied +and refined that I am choking in it. I only hope you may not smother +Robert in it. Good-night! I notice Robert goes to London pretty often +lately. Good-night." + +Then he closed the door sharply and went smiling to his room. "I think +I have made madame quite as uncomfortable as she has made me," he +muttered, "and I will go to the Black Lion to-morrow. From there I can +reach Denas without being watched at both ends. John Penelles to the +right and Elizabeth Burrell to the left of me are too much and too +many. For Denas I must see. I must see her if I have to dress myself +in blue flannels and oil-skins to manage it." + +In the morning Elizabeth ate her breakfast alone. She had determined +to have a good quarrel with Roland, and make him ashamed of his speech +and behaviour on the previous evening. But before she rose Roland had +gone to the Black Lion, and moreover he had left orders for his packed +traps and trunks to be sent after him. He had a distinct object in +this move. At the Court he was constantly under surveillance, and he +was also very much at Elizabeth's commands. He had little time to give +to the pursuit of Denas, and that little at hours unsuitable for the +purpose. But at the Black Lion his time was all his own. He could +breakfast and dine at whatever hour suited his occupation; he could +watch the movements of Denas without being constantly suspected and +brought to book. + +Her temper the previous evening, while it seriously annoyed, did not +dishearten him. He really liked her better for its display. He never +supposed that it would last. He expected her to make a visit to St. +Penfer the next day; she would hope that he would be on the watch for +her; she would be sure of it. + +But Denas did not visit St. Penfer that week, and Roland grew +desperate. On Saturday night he went down the cliff after dark and +hung around John's cottage, hoping that for some reason or other Denas +would come to the door. He had a note in his hand ready to put into +her hand if she did so. He could see her plainly, for the only screen +to the windows was some flowering plants inside and a wooden shutter +on the outside, never closed but in extreme bad weather. Joan was +making the evening meal, John sat upon the hearth, and Denas, with her +knitting in her hands, was by his side. Once or twice he saw her rise +and help her mother with some homely duty, and finally she laid down +her work, and, kneeling on the rug at her father's feet, she began to +toast the bread for their tea. Her unstudied grace, the charm of her +beauty and kindness, the very simplicity of her dress, fascinated him +afresh. + +"That is the costume--the very costume--she ought to sing in," he +thought. "With some fishing nets at her feet and the mesh in her +hands, how that dark petticoat and that little scarlet josey would +tell; the scarlet josey cut away just so at the neck. What a ravishing +throat she has! How white and round!" + +At this point in his reverie he heard footsteps, and he walked +leisurely aside. His big ulster in the darkness was a sufficient +disguise; he had no fear of being known by any passer-by. But these +footsteps stopped at John's door and then went inside the cottage. +That circumstance roused in Roland's heart a tremor he had never known +before. He cautiously returned to his point of observation. The +visitor was a young and handsome fisherman. It was Tris Penrose. +Roland saw with envy his welcome and his familiarity. He saw that Joan +had placed for him a chair on the hearth opposite John; Denas, +therefore, was at his feet also. Tris could feed his eyes upon her +near loveliness. He could speak to her. He did speak to her, and Denas +looked up with a smile to answer him. When the toast was made Tris +helped Denas to her feet; he put her chair to the table, he put his +own beside it. He waited upon her with such delight and tender +admiration that Roland was made furiously angry and miserable by his +rival's happiness. The poor ape jealousy began meddling in all his +better feelings. + +He hung around the cottage until he was freezing with cold and burning +with rage. "And this is Elizabeth's doing," he kept muttering as he +climbed the cliff to the upper town. He could not sleep all night. He +thought of everything that could add to his despairing uncertainty. +The next day was the Sabbath. Denas would go to chapel with her father +and mother. Tris would be sure to meet her there, to return home with +her, to sit again at her side on that bright, homelike hearthstone. + +"I wish I were a fisher," he cried passionately. "They know what it is +to live, for their boats make their cottages like heaven." He could +not deny to himself that Tris was a very handsome fellow and that +Denas smiled pleasantly at him. "But she never smiled once as she +smiles at me. He never once drew her soul into her face, as I can draw +it. She does not love him as she loves me." With such assertions he +consoled his heart, the while he was trying to form some plan which +would give him an opportunity to get Denas once more under his +influence. + +On Monday morning he went to see Priscilla Mohun. He had a long +conversation with the dressmaker, and that afternoon Priscilla walked +down to John's cottage and made a proposal to Denas. It was so blunt +and business-like, so tight in regard to money matters, that John and +Joan, and Denas also, were completely deceived. She said she had +heard that Denas and Tris Penrose were to be married, and she thought +Denas might like to make some steady money to help the furnishing. She +would give her two shillings a day and her board and lodging. Also, +she could have Saturday and Sunday at her home if she wished. + +Denas, who was fretted by the monotony of home duties really too +few to employ both her mother and herself, was glad of the offer. +John, who had a little vein of parsimony in his fine nature, +thought of the ten shillings a week and of how soon it would grow to +be ten pounds. Joan remembered how much there was to see and hear at +Miss Priscilla's, and Denas was so dull at home! Why should she +not have a good change when it was well paid for? And then she +remembered the happy week-ends there would be, with so much to tell +and to talk over. + +She asked Priscilla to stay and have a cup of tea with them, and so +settle the subject. And the result was that Denas went back to St. +Penfer with Priscilla and began her duties on the next day. That +evening she had a letter from Roland. It was a letter well adapted to +touch her heart. Roland was really miserable, and he knew well how to +cry out for comfort. He told her he had left his sister's home because +Elizabeth had insulted her there. He led her to believe that Elizabeth +was in great distress at his anger, but that nothing she could say or +do would make him forgive her until Denas herself was satisfied. + +And Denas was glad that Elizabeth should suffer. She hoped Roland +would make her suffer a great deal. For Denas had not yet reached that +divine condition in which it is possible to love one's enemies. She +was happy to think that Roland was at the Black Lion with all his +possessions; for she knew how the gossip on this occurrence would +annoy all the proprieties in Mrs. Burrell's social code. + +Her anger served Roland's purpose quite as much as her love. After the +third letter she wrote a reply. Then she agreed to meet him; then she +was quite under his influence again, much more so, indeed, than she +had ever been before. In a week or two he got into the habit of +dropping into Priscilla's shop for a pair of gloves, for writing +paper, for the _Daily News_, for a bottle of cologne--in short, there +were plenty of occasions for a visit, and he took them. And as +Priscilla's was near the Black Lion and the only news depot in town, +and as other gentlemen went frequently there also for the supply of +their small wants, no one was surprised at Roland's purchases. His +intercourse with Priscilla was obviously of the most formal character; +she treated him with the same short courtesy she gave to all and +sundry, and Denas was so rarely seen behind the counter that she was +not in any way associated with the customers. This indeed had been the +stipulation on which John had specially insisted. + +One morning Roland came hurriedly into the shop. "My sister is +coming here, I am sure, Miss Mohun," he said. "Tell Denas, if you +please, she said she wished to meet her again. Tell her I will +remain here and stand by her." There was no time to deliberate, and +Denas, acting upon the feeling of the moment, came quickly to Roland, +and was talking to him when Mrs. Burrell entered. They remained in +conversation a moment or two, as if loth to part; then Denas +advanced to the customer with an air of courtesy, but also of +perfect ignorance as to her personality. + +"Well, Denas?" said the lady. + +"What do you wish, madam?" + +"I wish to see Miss Priscilla." + +Denas touched a bell and returned to Roland, who had appeared to be +unconscious of his sister's presence. Elizabeth glanced at her +brother; then, without waiting for Priscilla, left the shop. The +lovely face of Denas was like a flame. "Thank you, Roland!" she said +with effusion. "You have paid my account in full for me." + +"Then, darling, let me come here to-night and say something very +important to us both. Priscilla will give me house-room for an hour, I +know she will. Here she comes. Let me ask her." + +Priscilla affected reluctance, but really she was prepared for the +request. She had expected it before and had been uneasy at its delay. +She was beginning to fear Roland's visits might be noticed, might be +talked about, might injure her custom. It pleased her much to +anticipate an end to a risky situation. She managed, without urging +Denas, to make the girl feel that her relations with Roland ought +either to be better understood or else entirely broken off. + +So Roland went back to his inn with a promise that made him +light-hearted. "Elizabeth has done me one good turn," he soliloquized. +"Now let me see. I will consider my plea and get all in order. First, +I must persuade Denas to go to London. Second, the question is, +marriage or no marriage? Third, her voice and its cultivation. Fourth, +the hundred pounds in St. Merryn's Bank. Fifth, everything as soon as +can be--to-morrow night if possible. Sixth, my own money from +Tremaine. I should have about four hundred pounds. Heigho! I wish it +was eight o'clock. And what an old cat Priscilla is! I do not think I +shall give her the fifty pounds I promised her. She does not deserve +it--and she never durst ask me for it." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IS THERE ANY SORROW LIKE LOVING? + + "For love the sense of right and wrong confounds; + Strong love and proud ambition have no bounds." + --DRYDEN. + + "The fate of love is such + That still it sees too little or too much." + --DRYDEN. + + "Fate ne'er strikes deep but when unkindness joins. + But there's a fate in kindness, + Still to be least returned where most 'tis given." + --DRYDEN. + + +Lovers see miracles, or think they ought to. Roland expected all his +own world to turn to his love. The self-denying, forbearing, loyal +affection Elizabeth had shown him all her life was now of no value, +since she did not sympathize with his love for Denas. John and Joan +Penelles were the objects of his dislike and scorn because they could +not see their daughter's future as he saw it. He thought it only right +that Priscilla Mohun should risk her business and her reputation for +the furtherance of his romantic love affair. He had easily persuaded +himself that it was utterly contemptible in her to expect any +financial reward for a service of love. + +Denas had more force of character. She was offended at Elizabeth +because Elizabeth had wounded her self-respect and put her into a most +humiliating position. She was too truthful not to admit that Elizabeth +had from the first hour of their acquaintance openly opposed anything +like love-making between Roland and herself. She understood and +acknowledged the rights of her parents. In trampling on them she knew +that she was sinning with her eyes open. And if Roland spent the day +in arranging his plans for the future, she spent it in facing squarely +the thing she had determined to do. + +For she was aware that Roland was coming that night to urge her to go +to London and become a public singer. She did not know how much money +would be required, but she knew that whatever the sum was it must come +from Roland. Then, of course, she must marry Roland at once. Under no +other relationship could she take money from him. Yet on carefully +questioning her memory she was sure that the subject of marriage had +been avoided, or, at any rate, not spoken of in any discussion of her +future. + +"But," she said, with a swift motion of determination, "that is the +first subject, and the one on which all others depend." + +At eight o'clock Roland was with her. He came with his most +irresistible manner, came prepared to carry his own desires in an +enthusiasm of that supreme selfishness which he chose to designate as +"love for Denas." + +"You have only to learn how to manage that wonderful voice of yours, +Denas," he said, "and a steady flow of money will be the result. You +must have read of the enormous sums singers receive, but we will be +modest at first and suppose you only make a few hundreds a year. In +the long run that will be nothing; and you will be a very rich +woman." + +"You have often said such things to me, Roland. But perhaps you do not +judge me severely enough. I must see a great teacher, and he will tell +me the truth." + +"To be sure. And you must have lessons also." + +"And for these things there must be money." + +"Certainly. I have upward of five hundred pounds and you have one +hundred at least." + +"I have nothing, Roland." + +"The money you told me of in St. Merryn's Bank." + +"I cannot touch that." + +"Why?" + +"Because I will not. Father has been saving it ever since I was born. +If he is sick it is all he has to live upon. It is bad enough to +desert my parents; I will not rob them also." + +"You must not look at things in such extreme ways. You are going to +spend money in order to make a fortune." + +"I will not spend father's money--the fortune may never come." + +"Then there is my money. You are welcome to every penny of it. All I +have is yours. I only live for you." + +"To say such things, Roland, is the way to marry me--if you mean to +marry me--is it not? Among the fishermen it is so, only they would say +first of all, 'I do wish to be your husband.'" + +"I am not a fisherman, Denas. And it would really be very dishonourable +to bind your fortune irrevocably to mine. In a couple of years you +would be apt to say: 'Roland played me a mean trick, for he made me +his wife only that he might have all the money I earn.' Don't you +see what a dreadful position I should be in? I should be ashamed to +show my face. Really, dearest, I must look after my honour. My +money--that is nothing." + +"Roland, if honour and money cannot go together, there is something +wrong. If I went to London alone and you were also in London and +paying for my lessons, do you know what everyone would say in St. +Penfer? Do you know what they would call me?" + +"Why need you care for a lot of old gossips--you, with such a grand +future before you?" + +"I do care. I care for myself. I care a thousand times more for father +and mother. A word against my good name would kill them. They would +never hold up their heads any more. And then, however bad a name the +public gave me, I should give myself a worse one; I should indeed! +Night and day my soul would never cease saying to me: 'Denas Penelles, +you are a murderess! Hanging is too little for you. Get out of this +life and go to your own place'--and you know where that would be." + +"You silly, bigoted little Methodist! People do not die of grief in +these days, they have too much to do. You would soon be able to send +them a great deal of money, and that would put all right." + +"For shame, Roland! Little you know of St. Penfer fishermen, nothing +at all you know of John and Joan Penelles, if you think a city full of +gold would atone to them for my dishonour. What is the use of going +around about our words when there are straight ones enough to say? I +will go to London as your wife, or I will not go at all." + +There was a momentary expression on Roland's face which might have +terrified Denas if she had seen it, but her gaze was far outward; she +was looking down on the waves and the boats of St. Penfer and on one +little cottage on its shingle. And Roland's hasty glance into her +resolute face convinced him that all parleying was useless. He was +angry and could not quite control himself. His voice showed decided +pique as he answered: + +"Very well, Denas. Take care of your own honour, by all means; mine is +of no value, of course." + +"If you think marrying me makes it of no value, take care of your own +honour, Roland. I will not be your wife; no, indeed. And as for +London, I will not go near it. And as for my voice, it may be worth +money, but it is not worth my honour, and my good name, and my +father's and mother's life. Why should I sing for strangers? I will +sing for my father and the fishers on the sea; and I will sing in the +chapel--and there is an end of the matter." + +She rose with such an air of decision and wounded feeling that Roland +involuntarily thought of her attitude when Elizabeth offended her. +From the position taken at that hour she had never wavered; she was +still as angry at Mrs. Burrell as she had been when she left the Court +in the first outburst of her indignation. And she was so handsome in +her affected indifference and her real indignation that Roland was +ready to sacrifice everything rather than lose her. He let all other +considerations slip away from him; he vowed that his chief longing, +his most passionate desire, was to marry her--to make her his and his +only; and that nothing but a chivalric sense of the wrong he might be +doing her future had made him hesitate. And then he eloquently praised +himself for such a nicety of honour, and tried to make her understand +how really noble he had been in his self-denial, and how hard it was +for him to be accused of the very thing he was trying to avoid. And he +looked so injured, with his beautiful eyes full of tears, that Denas +was privately ashamed of herself, and fearful that she had in defence +of her modesty gone beyond proper boundaries. + +Then the subject of their marriage was frankly discussed. Roland +was now honest and earnest enough, and yet Denas felt that the +charm of the great question and answer had been lost in considering +it. Spontaneity--that subtle element of all that is lovely and +enchanting--had flown away at the first suspicion of constraint. Some +sweet illusion that had always hung like a halo over this grand +decision evaded her consciousness; the glorious ideal had become a +reality and lost all its enchantments in the change. + +After a long discussion, it was finally arranged that Roland should +meet Denas at a small way-station about four miles distant on the +following Monday evening. From there they could take a train to +Plymouth, and at Plymouth there was a Wesleyan minister whom Denas had +seen and who she felt sure would marry them. From Plymouth to Exeter, +Salisbury, and London was a straight road, and yet one which had many +asides and not too easy to follow; though as to any fear of +interruptions, they were hardly worth considering. Denas would leave +her home as usual on Monday morning, and her parents would have no +expectation of seeing her until the following Friday night. By that +time she would be settled in London--she would have been Roland's wife +for nearly four days. + +These arrangements were made on Friday night, and on the following +morning Denas went home very early. As she took the cliff-road she +felt that the spirit of change had entered into her heart and her +imagination. The familiar path had become monotonously dreary; she had +a kind of pity for the people who had not her hope of a speedy escape +from it. The desolate winter beach, the lonely boats, the closed +cottages--how inexorably common they looked! She felt that there must +be something in the world better for her than such mean poverty. +Roland's words had indeed induced this utter weariness and contempt +for the conditions of her life, but the conditions themselves were +thus made to give the most eloquent sanction to his advice and +entreaties. + +And when a girl has set her face toward a wrong road, nothing is +sadder in life than the general certainty there is that every small +event will urge her forward on it. Usually the home-coming of Denas +was watched for and seen afar off, and some special dainty was +simmering on the hob for her refreshment. There was all the pleasant +flurry that belongs to love's warm welcome. But she had delayed her +return in order to spend the evening with Roland, and the environments +of the morning had not the same air of easy happiness that attaches +itself to the evening hours. + +Joan was elbow-deep in her week's cleaning and baking. John had the +uncomfortable feeling of a man who knows himself in the way. He had +only loitered around in order to see Denas and be sure that all was +well with his girl. Then he was a trifle disappointed that she had not +brought him his weekly paper. He went silently off to the boats, and +Denas was annoyed and reproved by his patient look of disappointment. +Women who are cleaning and baking are often, what is called by people +less troublesomely employed, cross. Denas was sure her mother was +cross and a little unreasonable. She had not time to listen to the +village gossip; "it would keep till evening," she said. + +Then she bid Denas hurry up and get her father's heavy guernsey mended +and his bottle of water filled, ready for the boat. "They be going out +on the noon ebb," she said, "and back with the midnight tide, and so +take thought for the Sabbath; for your father, he do have to preach +over to Pendree to-morrow, and the sermon more on his mind than the +fishing--God help us!" + +"Will father expect me to walk with him to Pendree to-morrow, mother? +It is too far; I cannot walk so far." + +"Will he expect you? Not as I know by, Denas--if you don't want to go. +There be girls as would busy all to do so. But there! it is easy seen +you are neither fatherish or motherish these days." + +"I wish father was rich enough to stay at home and never go to sea +again." + +"That be a bit of nonsense! Your father has had a taking to the sea +all his life; and he never could abide to be boxed up on land. Aw, my +dear, John Penelles is a busker of a fisherman! The storm never yet +did blow that down-daunted him! Tris says it is a great thing to see +your father stand smiling by the wheel when the lightning be flying +all across the elements and the big waves be threatening moment by +moment to make a mouthful of the boat. That be the Penelles' way, my +dear; they come from a good old _haveage_;[3] but there, then, it be +whist poor speed we make when our tongues tire our hands." + +"'Tis like a storm as it can be, mother." + +"Aw, then, a young girl should say brave words or no words at all. +'Tis not your work to forespeak bad weather, and I wish you wouldn't +do it, Denas; I do for sure." + +In an hour John came back and had a mouthful of meat and bread, but he +was hurried and anxious, and said he had not come yet to his meat-list +and would be off about his business. Then Joan asked him concerning +the weather, and he answered: + +"The gulls do fly high, and that do mean a breeze; but there be no +danger until they fly inland. The boats will be back before midnight, +my dear." + +"If the wind do let them, John. Denas says it be on its contrary old +ways again." + +"My old dear, we be safest when the storm-winds blow; for then God do +be keeping the lookout for us. Joan, my wife, 'tis not your business +to be looking after the wind, nor mine either; for just as long as +John Penelles trusts his boat to the Great Pilot, it is sure and +certain to come into harbour right side up. Now, my dear, give me a +big jug of milk, with a little boiling water in it to take off the +edge of the cold, and then I'll away for the gray fish--if so be God +fills the net on either side the boat for us." + +"Hark, father! The wind has turned to a north-easter--a bad wind on +this coast." + +"Not it, Denas. What was it you read me in that story paper? Some +verses by a great and good man who have been in a stiff north-easter, +or else he never could have got the true grip of it: + + "'Welcome, wild north-easter! + Come, and strong within us + Stir the seaman's blood, + Bracing brain and sinew; + Come, thou wind of God!'" + +"That is not right, and that is not the whole of it, father." + +"Aw, 'tis enough, my dear; all that the soul wants, the memory can +hold to--'tis enough. Good-bye, and God's keeping." + +He drank his warm milk, buttoned close his pilot coat, and went off +toward the boats. Denas had no fear for him, but Joan had not learned +trust from her husband's trust; the iron ring of the wind, the black +sea, the wild sky with its tattered remnants of clouds, made her full +of apprehension. She hurried her work and was silent over it; while +Denas sat in the little window sewing, and occasionally letting her +eyes wander outward over the lonely beach and the homely "cob" +cottages of the fishers. + +It was a solitary, lonesome, dreary-looking spot on that bleak winter +day; and life inside those tiny houses was restricted and full of +limitations. Denas thought of them all, but she weighed and measured +the life without taking into account the love that sat on each +hearthstone--the love that turned the simple houses into homes and the +plain, hard-working men into husbands and sons and brothers and lovers +and saw that they were good men and brave heroes in spite of their +poverty. Love would have altered her estimate, but she did not ask +love to count with her. She only thought: "If I did not know of a +better life, of a life full of pleasure and change, I might go and +live with Tris and dree my days out with him; but I am now too wise to +be so easily satisfied. I want a house finer than Elizabeth's; I want +grand dresses, and plenty of servants, and a carriage; and Roland +says all these things are in my voice. Besides, I am far too pretty to +be a fisherman's wife and mend guernseys, and make nets, and bake +fish-pies every day in the year." + +Far too pretty! After all, this was the deepest thought in her foolish +heart. At first, Roland's pictures of her in picturesque costume, +singing to enthusiastic crowds, had rather terrified her; but she had +let the idea enter her mind, it had become familiar, then alluring, +and finally a delightful dream. She occupied many hours in devising +costumes, in imagining herself in their colours and forms, and in +considering how the homage she would receive would be most nobly borne +as it affected Roland. Of course she would throw all at his feet--all +the admiration, all the love, all the gold that came to her. + +She looked at the grave-faced, preoccupied mother and wished she could +talk with her about her hopes. Roland had expressed himself as greatly +hurt by this inability. "Most mothers, Denas," he said, "would be only +too happy to anticipate such a prospect for their daughter, and you +ought to have had a mother's sympathy and help at this great epoch of +your life. Poor girl! it is too bad that you are obliged to bear the +whole weight of such a movement yourself!" + +So Denas looked at her mother, and felt aggrieved by the strict creed +which ruled her life. Methodists were so very narrow. She remembered +her father's anger at a mere proposal of Miss Tresham to take Denas +to a theatre with her. She knew that he believed a theatre to be the +open door to hell; and that the mere idea of men and women, either +with souls saved or souls to be saved, dancing, filled him with shame +and anger. Yet she was going to sing in a theatre if possible; and +Roland had said a great deal about the fisher dances of various +countries and how effective they would be with the songs. + +At first she had refused to tolerate the idea; she could not imagine +herself dancing to amuse a crowd of strangers--dancing for money. She +thought of Herodias dancing the Baptist's head off, and she said +solemnly to Roland, and with the utmost sincerity, that she dared not +dance. It was the broad road to perdition. Roland had not cared to +argue with such a prejudice. He knew well that the dancing would +follow the public singing, as naturally as the singing followed the +professional orchestra. But he said then, as he said frequently +afterward: "It is such a pity, Denas, you have not a mother you can +advise with and who could help and encourage you. It just locks a girl +up in a box to be born a Methodist!" + +This attitude of Roland's was a very cruel one. It taught Denas to +feel that her secrecy was not her fault. She continually told herself +that she would have been glad to talk over her future plans with her +parents if they would only have listened to her; that it was not her +fault if they were unreasonable and bigoted--not her fault if her mind +had grown beyond her surroundings; that her father and mother ought +to consider that her education and her companionship with Elizabeth +Tresham had led naturally to the craving for a wider life; and that if +they give the first they ought in common justice to be ready to +consider the consequences with her. + +"But they will not," she thought angrily. "They want me to settle down +and be content with Tris Penrose. I dare not tell them that Roland +loves me. Roland dare not tell them either. I cannot say a word to +them about my voice and the money it may make. Roland says any +reasonable father and mother would be quite excited at the prospect +and glad to go to London with me. But will my father and mother do so? +Oh, no! In order to do myself justice I am obliged to run away. It is +too bad! Any sensible person would feel sorry for me." + +With such specious reasoning she satisfied her conscience, and the +afternoon wore away in gathering gloom and fierce scuds of rain. It +was nearly dark at four o'clock, and she rose and brought a small +round table to the hearth and began to put on it the tea-cups and the +bread and butter. As she did so Joan entered the room. Her arms were +full of clean clothing, but glancing at the table she threw them above +her head, and regardless of the scattered garments cried out: + +"Denas! Look to the loaf! Some poor ship be in distress! Pray God it +be not your father's." + +Then Denas with trembling hands lifted the loaf, which she had +inadvertently laid down wrong side upward, and placed it, with a "God +save the ship and all in her," in the proper position. But Joan was +thoroughly unnerved by the ominous incident, and she sat down with her +apron over her head, rocking herself slowly to her inaudible prayer; +while Denas, with a resentful feeling she did not try to understand, +gathered up the pieces of linen and flannel her mother had apparently +forgotten. + +Into this scene stepped a young man in the Burrell Court livery. He +gave Denas a letter, but refused the offer of a cup of tea, because +"the storm was hurrying landward, and he would be busy all to catch +the cliff-top before it caught him." + +Joan took no notice of the interruption, and Denas felt her trouble +over such a slight affair as a turned loaf to be almost a personal +offence. In a short time she said: "Mother, your tea is waiting; and I +have a letter from Mrs. Burrell, if you care anything about it." + +"Aw, my girl, I care little for Mrs. Burrell's letters to-night. She +be well and happy, no doubt; and my old dear is in the wind's teeth +and pulling hard against a frosty death." + +"Father knows the sky and the sea, and I think it is cruel hard of him +to take such risks." + +"And where will the fishers be who do take no risks? Fish be plenty +just before a storm, and the London market-boat waiting for the take; +and why wouldn't the men do their duty, danger or no danger?" + +"I would rather die than be a fisher's wife." + +"Aw, my girl, the heart for one isn't in you." + +"I never saw you so nervous before, mother." + +"Nervous! Nervous! No, my dear, it be downright fear. I never knew +what fear was before. I've gone down-daunted--that be the trouble, +Denas. I've had such dreams lately--such creepy-like, ghastly old +dreams of wandering in wayless ways covered with water; of seeing the +hearth-place full of cold ashes and the lights put out; and of +carrying the 'Grief Child' in my breast, a puny, wailing bit of a baby +that I could not be rid of, nor yet get away from--sights and sounds +after me night and day that do give me a turn to think of; and what +they do mean I haven't mind-light for to see. God help us! But I do +fear they be signs of trouble. And who goes into the way of trouble +but your father? May God save him from it!" + +"Trouble is no new thing, mother." + +"That be the truth. Trouble be old as the floods of Dava." + +"And it does seem to me religious people, who are always talking about +trusting God, are a poor, unhappy kind. If you do believe, mother, +that God is the good Father you say He is--if you do think He has led +millions to His own heavenly city--I wonder at you always fearing that +He is going to forget you and let you lose your way and get into all +kinds of danger and sorrow." + +"There, then! You be right for once, my dear. Your father, he do serve +the Lord with gladness, but a wife's heart is nothing but a nest of +fear. And it be true that I do not think so much of serving the Lord +as of having the Lord serve me; and when it is me and always me, and +your heart be top-full of your dismal old self, how can you serve God +with gladness? You be right to give me a set-down, Denas. Come, now, +what is Mrs. Burrell's letter about? I be pleased and ready to hear it +now, my dear." + +"This is what she says, mother: + + "'DEAR DENAS:--I am troubled about Roland and you. I want very + much to talk things over with you. If I offended you when you were + at the Court, I am very sorry for it. Come and spend a day next + week with me. I will send the carriage to Miss Mohun's. + + "'Your friend, + + "'ELIZABETH BURRELL.'" + +"Why is she troubled about you and that young man? Is he not in London +now?" + +"He is here, and there, and everywhere. Would you go to the Court +again, mother? I told you how Elizabeth behaved to me." + +"Aw, then she had the bride-fever, my dear. She will be come to her +senses by this time. Yes, yes, if you aren't very sure how to act, +take the kind way rather than the ill way; you will be mostly right, +my dear." + +Of course Denas had no idea of taking either way, but the invitation +furnished her with a reason for wearing her best dress on Monday; and +she had been much exercised to find out a cause for this unusual +finery. She felt quite excited over this fortunate incident, and she +could not avoid a smile when she reflected that Elizabeth had so +opportunely furnished her with the very thing she wanted. + +Then for an hour or two Joan quite controlled herself. She asked after +the news of the upper town, and listened with interest to her +daughter's description of the dresses she was helping to fashion. From +this topic they glided naturally to Christmas and its coming +festivities, and Joan talked a good deal of the new silver watch they +had decided to give John as a Christmas gift, and so for some time she +was as full of plans and happy hopes as a little child could be. + +She did not notice that after a while Denas grew weary and constrained, +that speech seemed a trouble to her, that she lost herself frequently +in reverie, and was as nearly nervous as she had accused her mother of +being. But the conversation finally flagged so much that Joan began +to worry about the weather once more. The wind was now frightful, the +icy rain rattled against the windows, and at the open door Joan could +hear billow on billow, crash on crash, shrieking blast on shrieking +blast. She was unable to preserve her cheerfulness. Like all strong +hearts in anxiety, she became silent. The platitudes of Denas, +dropped without interest, annoyed her; she only moved her head in +reply. + +Midnight came, and no boats. There was a pitifully frequent opening of +cottage doors, and the sudden flashes of fire and candle light that +followed revealed always some white, fearful face thrust out into the +black night, in the hope of hearing the shouts of the home-coming men. +Joan could not keep away from the door; and the yawning of Denas, her +shifting movements, her uncontrolled sleepiness, irritated Joan. In +great anxiety, companionship not perfectly sympathetic is irritating; +mere mortals quiver under its infliction. For Denas could not perceive +any special reason for unusual fear; she longed to go to bed and sleep, +as she had done many a time before under the same circumstances. She +laid the Bible on the table before Joan and said: "Won't you read a +psalm and lie down a bit, mother?" + +"No. Read for yourself, and to bed then if you want to go." + +Denas opened the book. Her father's mark was in the psalms, and she +began to read to herself. + +Joan's face was beneath her blue apron. David's words did not +interpret her at this hour; only her own lips could speak for her own +sorrow and fear. There was a deep stillness in the house. Outside the +tempest raged wildly. It seemed to Joan as if hours passed in that +interval of heart-trembling; she was almost shocked when the old clock +gave its long whirring warning and then struck only _one_. Her first +look was to the fire. It wanted replenishing. Her next was at Denas. +The girl was fast asleep. Her hands were across the open Bible, her +face was dropped upon them. Joan touched her and said not unkindly: + +"A little bit of Bible-reading do send people to sleep quick, don't +it, Denas?" + +"I was so tired, mother." + +"Aw, my dear, you be no worse than Christian in the 'Pilgrim's +Progress.' He did go to sleep, too, when he was reading his roll. +Come, my girl, it is your time for bed. Sitting up won't help you to +bear trouble." + +"Mother, won't it be time enough to bear trouble when it is really +here to be borne?" + +"It do seem as if it would. Love be a fearful looker-forward. Go to +bed, my girl; maybe you will sleep sorrow away." + +So Denas went to bed and did not awake until the grey light of the +stormy morning was over everything. She could hear the murmur of +voices in the living-room, and she dressed quickly and went there. +John Penelles sat by the fire drinking hot tea. His hair had yet bits +of ice in it, his face still had the awful shadow that is cast by the +passing-by of death. Denas put her arms around his neck and kissed +him; she kissed him until she began to sob, and he drew her upon his +knee, and held her to his breast, and said in a whisper to her: + +"Ten men drowned, my dear, and three frozen to death; but through +God's mercy father slipped away from an ugly fate." + +"Oh, father, how could you bear it?" + +"God help us, Denas, we must bear what is sent." + +"What a night it has been! How did you live through it?" + +"It's dogged as does it and lives through it. It's dogged as does +anything, my dear, all over the world. I stuck to the boat and the +boat stuck to me. God Almighty Himself can't help a coward." + +The storm continued all day, but began to slacken in intensity at +sunset. There was of course no service at Pendree. John, even if he +had not been so worn out, could not have reached the place in such a +storm, either by land or sea. But the neighbours, without seeming +premeditation, gathered in John's cottage at night, and he opened his +Bible and read aloud: + +"Terrors take hold on him, as waters; a tempest stealeth him away in +the night. The east wind carrieth him away, and he departeth; and as a +storm hurleth him out of his place." + +And it was to these words, with their awful application to the wicked, +that Denas listened the last night she intended to spend under her +father's roof. John's discourses were nearly always like his nature, +tender and persuasive; and this terrible sermon wove itself in and out +of her wandering thoughts like a black scroll in a gay vesture. It +pained and troubled her, though she did not consider why it should do +so. After the meeting was over John was very weary; but he would not +go to bed until he had eaten supper. He "wanted his little maid to sit +near him for half-an-hour," he said. And he held her hand in his own +hand, and gave her such looks of perfect love and blessed her so +solemnly and sweetly when at length he left her that she began to sob +again and to stand on tiptoe that she might throw her arms around his +neck and touch his lips with hers once more. + +Her kisses were wet with her tears, and they made John's heart soft +and gentle as a baby's. "She be the fondest little maid," he said to +his wife. "She be the fondest little maid! I could take a whole year +to praise her, Joan, and then I could not say enough." + +In reality, the last two days, with their excess of vital emotions, +had worn Denas out. Never before had the life into which she was born +looked so unlovely to her. She preferred the twitter and twaddle of +Priscilla's workroom to the intense realities of an existence always +verging on eternity. She dared to contrast those large, heroic +fishers, with their immovable principles and their constant fight with +all the elemental forces for their daily bread, with Roland Tresham; +and to decide that Roland's delicate beauty, pretty, persuasive +manners, and fashionable clothing were vastly superior attributes. So +she was glad when the morning came, for she was weary of enduring what +need no longer be endured. + +It still rained, but she put on her best clothing, and Joan was not +pleased at her for doing so. She thought she might come home some +night when the rain was over and change her dress for the visit to +Burrell Court. This difference of opinion made their last meal +together a silent one; for John was in a deep sleep and Joan would not +have him disturbed. Denas just opened the door and stood a moment +looking at the large, placid face on the white pillow. As she turned +away, it seemed as if she cut a piece out of her heart; she had a +momentary spasm of real physical pain. + +Joan had not yet recovered from her night of terror. Her face was +grey, her eyes heavy, her heart still beating and aching with some +unintelligible sense of wrong or grief. And she looked at her child +with such a dumb, sorrowful inquiry that Denas sat down near her and +put her head on her mother's breast and asked: "What is it, mother? +Have I done anything to grieve you?" + +"Not as I know by, dear. I wish you hadn't worn your best dress--dresses +do cost money, don't they now?" + +"Yes, they do, mother. There then! Shall I take it off? I will, to +please you, mother." + +"No, no! The will be as good as the deed from my little girl. Maybe +you are right, too. Dress do go a long way to pleasing." + +"Then good-bye. Kiss me, mother! Kiss me twice! Kiss me again, for +father!" + +So Joan kissed her child. She smoothed her hair, and straightened her +collar, and put in a missed button, and so held her close for a few +moments, and kissed her again; and when Denas had reached the foot of +the cliff, she was still watching her with the look on her face--the +look of a mother who feels as if she still held her child in her +arms. + +O love! love! love! Is there any sorrow in life like loving? + + +FOOTNOTE: + + [3] Family, race. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A SEA OF SORROW. + + "Time the shuttle drives; but we + Give to every thread its hue + And elect our destiny." + --BURLEIGH. + + "Life does not make us, we make life." + + "He gave me trust, and trust has given me means + Once to be false for all." + --DRYDEN. + + "He at the news + Heart-struck, with chilling gripe of sorrow, stood, + That all his senses bound." + --MILTON. + + +It had been raining a little when Denas bade her mother farewell, but +by the time she reached the top of the cliff the rain had become fog. +She stood still awhile and turned her face to the sea, and saw one +drift after another roll inland, veiling the beach, and the boats, and +the cottages, and leaving the whole scene a spectacle of desolation. + +It affected her painfully. The love and hope in her heart did not +lift her above the depressing influence of that mournful last view +of her home. Was the thing that she was going to do worth while? Was +anything in life worth while? The little town had a half-awakened +Monday-morning look. Every one seemed to be beginning another week +with an "Oh, dear me!" sort of feeling. Miss Priscilla was just +dressing her shop window, and as cross as crossed sticks over her +employment. She said that Denas was late, and wondered "for +goodness' sake why she was so dressed up." + +It gave Denas a kind of spiteful pleasure to answer: "She was dressed +to go to Burrell Court and spend a day with Mrs. Burrell. When she +sent Mr. Burrell word the day she would come the carriage would call +for her." + +"If you mean the day I can spare you best, I cannot spare you at all +this week. There now!" + +"I am not thinking of you sparing me, Priscilla. I am waiting for a +fine day." + +"Upon my word! Am I your mistress or are you mine? And what is more, +that Roland Tresham is not coming here again. I have some conscience, +thank goodness! and I will not sanction such ways and such carryings +on any longer. He is a dishonourable young man." + +"Has he not paid you, Priscilla?" + +Before Priscilla could find the scathing words she required, an +hostler from the Black Lion entered the shop and put a letter into the +hand of Denas. + +Priscilla turned angrily on the man and ordered him to leave her shop +directly. Then she said: "Denas Penelles, you are a bad girl! I am +going to write to Mrs. Burrell this day, and to your father and mother +also." + +"I would not be a fool if I was you, Priscilla." + +Denas was reading the letter, and softly smiling as she uttered the +careless words. For indeed affairs were at a point now where +Priscilla's interference would hurt herself more than others. The note +was, of course, from Roland. It told her that all was ready, and that +the weather being so bad as to render walking very tiresome and +miserable, he had engaged a carriage which would be waiting for her on +the west side of the parish church at seven o'clock that night; and +her lover would be waiting with it, and if Roland was to be believed, +everything joyful and marvellous was waiting also. + +This letter was the only sunshine throughout the day. Priscilla's bad +temper was in the ascendant, both in the shop and in the workroom. She +scolded Denas for working so slowly, she made her unrip whatever she +did. She talked at Denas in talking to the other girls, and the girls +all echoed and shadowed their mistress' opinions and conduct. Denas +smiled, and her smile had in it a mysterious satisfaction which all +felt to be offensive. But for the certain advent of seven o'clock, the +day would have been intolerable. + +About half-past six she put on her hat and cloak, and Miss Priscilla +ordered her to take them off. "You are not going outside my house +to-night, Denas Penelles," she said. "If you sew until ten o'clock, +you will not have done a day's work." + +"I am going home, Priscilla. I will work for you no more. You have +behaved shamefully to me all day, and I am going home." + +Priscilla had not calculated on such a result, and it was inconvenient +to her. She began to talk more reasonably, but Denas would listen to +no apology. It suited her plans precisely to leave Priscilla in anger, +for if Priscilla thought she had gone home she would not of course +send any word to her parents. So she left the workroom in a pretended +passion, and shut the shop door after her with a clash that made Miss +Priscilla give a little scream and the forewoman ejaculate: + +"Well, there then! A good riddance of such a bad piece! I do say that +for sure." + +Very little did Denas care for the opinions of Priscilla and her +work-maidens. She knew that the word of any girl there could be bought +for a day's wage; she was as willing they should speak evil as well of +her. Yet it was with a heart full of anger at the day's petty slights +and wrongs that she hastened to the place mentioned by Roland. As she +turned into the street at one end the carriage entered it at the +other. It came to meet her; it stopped, and Roland leaped to her side. +In another moment she was in the carriage. Roland's arm was around +her; he was telling her how grateful he was; how happy! how proud! He +was promising her a thousand pleasures, giving her hope after hope; +vowing an unalterable and never-ending love. + +And Denas surrendered herself to his charm. After the last three +dreadful days, it did seem a kind of heaven to be taken right out of a +life so hard and unlovely and so full of painful emotions; to be +kissed and flattered and to be treated like a lady. The four miles she +had expected to walk went like a happy dream; she was sorry when they +were passed and the bare railway station was reached. It was but a +small place lit by a single lamp, but Roland improvised a kind of +couch, and told her to sleep while he watched and smoked a cigar. + +In a short time he returned, and said that there was no train to +Plymouth until midnight; but an express for London would pass in half +an hour, and they had better take it. Denas thought a moment, and +answered with a decision that made Roland look curiously at her: "No. +I will not go to London to be married. I know the preacher at +Plymouth. We will wait for the Plymouth train." It was not a very +pleasant wait. It was cold and damp and inexpressibly dreary, and +Roland could not avoid showing that he was disappointed in not taking +the London train. + +But the hours go by, no matter to what measure, and midnight came, and +the train came, and the comfort and privacy of a first-class carriage +restored the lover-like attitude of the runaways. Early in the morning +they reached Plymouth, and as soon as possible they sought the house +of the Wesleyan preacher. It stood close to the chapel and was readily +found. A written message on Roland's card brought him at once to the +parlour. He looked with interest and curiosity and some disapproval at +the couple. + +"Mr. Tresham," he said, glancing at the card which he held in his +hand, "you wish me to marry you. I think----" He was going to make +some inquiries or objections, but he caught the expression of anxiety +in the face of Denas, and then he looked carefully at her and asked: + +"Have I not seen you before?" + +"Yes, sir, when you preached at St. Penfer last summer. I am the +daughter of John Penelles." + +"The fisher Penelles?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Oh! Yes, Mr. Tresham, I will marry you at once. It will be the best +thing, under the circumstances, I am sure. Follow me, sir." As they +went along a narrow covered way, he called a servant and gave her an +order, and then opening a door ushered the would-be bride and +bridegroom into the chapel, and straight to the communion rail. + +Denas knelt down there, and for a few moments lost herself in sincere +prayer. After all, in great emotion prayer was her native tongue. When +she stood up and lifted her eyes, the preacher's wife and two +daughters were at her side, and the preacher himself was at the +communion table, with the open book in his hand. The bare chapel in +the grey daylight; the strange tones of the preacher's voice in the +empty place; the strange women at her side--it was all like a dream. +She felt afraid to move or to look up. She answered as she was told, +and she heard Roland answer also. But his voice did not sound real and +happy, and when he took the plain gold ring from the preacher's hand +and said after him, "With this ring I thee wed," she raised her eyes +to her husband's face. It was pale and sombre. No answering flash of +love met hers, and she felt it difficult to restrain her tears. + +In truth, Roland was smitten with a sudden irresolution that was +almost regret. As Denas knelt praying, there had come to his mind many +a dream he had had of his own wedding. He had always thought of it in +some old church that would be made to glow with bride-roses and ring +with bride-music. Young maidens and men of high degree were to tread +the wedding march with him. Dancing and feasting, gay company and rich +presents, were to add glory to some fair girl wife, whom he would +choose because, of all others, she was the loveliest; and the +wealthiest, and the most to be desired. + +And then his eyes fell upon the girl at his feet, in her plain dark +dress crushed and disordered with a night's travel; the bare, empty +chapel; the utter want of music, flowers, company, or social support +of any kind; the small, rigid-looking preacher without surplice or +insignia of holy office; the half-expressed disapproval on the +countenances of the three women present as witnesses--it was not thus +Elizabeth was married; it was not thus he himself ought to have been +married. How the surroundings might affect Denas he did not even +think; and yet the poor girl also had had her dreams, which this cold, +dreary reality in no measure redeemed. + +But the ring was on her finger; she was Roland's wife. Nothing could +ever make her less. She heard the preacher say: "Come into the vestry, +Mrs. Tresham, and sign the register." And then Roland gave her his arm +and kissed her, and she went with the little company, and took the pen +from her husband's hand, and wrote boldly for the last time her +maiden name: + +"Denasia Penelles." + +Roland looked inquiringly at her, and she smiled and answered: "That +is right, dear. I was christened Denasia." + +Very small things pleased Roland, and the new name delighted him. All +the way to London he spoke frequently of it. "You are now Denasia, my +darling," he said. "Let the old name slip with the old life. Besides, +Denasia is an excellent public name. You can sing under it splendidly. +Such a noble name! Why did you let everyone spoil it?" + +"Everyone thought Denas was my name. Father and mother always called +me Denas, and people forgot that it was only part of my name. +Fisher-folk have short names, or nicknames." + +"But, really, Denasia Penelles is a very distinguished name. A +splendid one for the public." + +"Why not Denasia Tresham?" + +"Because, my dear, there are Treshams living in London who would be +very angry at me if I put their name on a bill-board. The Treshams are +a very proud family." + +"Roland, it would kill my father if I put his name on anything that +refers to a theatre. You don't know how he feels on that subject. It +is a thing of life and death--I mean the soul's life or death--to +him." + +A painful discussion, in which both felt hurt and angry and both spoke +in very affectionate terms, followed. It lasted until they reached the +great city which stretches out her hands to every other city. Roland +had secured rooms in a very dull, respectable house in Queen's Square, +Bloomsbury. He had often stayed there when his finances did not admit +of West End luxuries, and the place was suitable for many other +reasons. + +Then followed two perfectly happy weeks for Denas. She had written a +few lines to her parents while waiting for a train at Exeter, and she +then resolved not to permit herself to grieve about their grief, +because it could do them no good and it would seriously worry and +annoy Roland. And Roland was so loving and generous. At his command +modistes and milliners turned his plebeian bride into a fashionable, +and certainly into a very lovely lady. She had more pretty costumes +than she had ever dreamed of; she had walking-hats and dress-hats, and +expensive furs, and she grew more beautiful with each new garment. +They went to theatres and operas; they went riding and walking; they +had cosey little dinners at handsome restaurants; and Roland never +once named money, or singing, or anything likely to spoil the charm of +the life they were leading. + +During this happy interval Denas did not quite forget her parents. She +wrote to them once, and she very often wondered through whom and in +what manner they received the news of their loss. It was her own hand +which dealt the blow. Miss Priscilla really thought Denas had gone +back to her home, and she resolved on the following Sunday afternoon +to walk down to the fishing village and "make it up" with her. About +Wednesday, however, there began to be floating rumours of the truth. +Several people called on Priscilla and asked after the whereabouts of +Denas; and the landlord of the Black Lion was talking freely of the +large bill Roland had left unsettled there. But none of these rumours +reached the ears of the fisher-folk, nor were they likely to do so +until the St. Penfer _Weekly News_ appeared. The first three days of +the week had been so foggy that no boat had cared to risk a sail over +the bar; but on Thursday morning all was clear, and the men were eager +to get out to sea. John Penelles was hastening toward his boat, when +he heard a voice calling him. It was the postman, and he turned and +went to meet him. + +"Here be a letter for you, John Penelles. Exeter postmark. I came a +bit out of my way with it. I thought you would be looking for news." + +The man was thinking of Denas and the reports about her flight; but +John's unconcern puzzled him, and he did not care to say anything more +definite to the big fisherman. And, as it happened, a letter was +expected from Plymouth, on chapel business; for the very preacher who +had married Roland and Denas had been asked to come to St. Penfer and +preach the yearly missionary sermon. John had no doubt this letter +from Exeter referred to the matter. He said so to the postman, and +with the unconscious messenger of sorrow in his hand went back to his +cottage. + +For letters were unusual events with John. If this referred to the +missionary service, he would have to read it in public next Sunday, +and he was much pleased and astonished that it should have been sent +to him. He felt a certain importance in the event, and was anxious to +share his little triumph with his "old dear." Joan did not quite +appreciate his consideration. She had her hands in the dough, and her +thoughts were upon the pipeclaying which she was going to give to the +flagged floor of her cottage. She had hoped men-folks with their big +boots would keep away until her work was dry and snow-white. + +"Here be a letter from Exeter, Joan, to me. 'Twill be about the +missionary service. I thought you would like to know, my dear." + +"_Hum-m-m!_" answered Joan. "I could have done without the news, John, +till the bread was baked and the floor was whitened." She had her back +to John, but, as he did not speak again, she turned her face over her +shoulder and looked at him. The next moment she was at his side. + +"What is it, John? John Penelles, speak to me." + +John stood on the hearth with his left arm outstretched and holding an +open letter. His eyes were fixed on it. His face had the rigid, +stubborn look of a man who on the very point of unconsciousness +arrests his soul by a peremptory act of will. He stood erect, stiff, +speechless, with the miserable slip of white paper at the end of his +outstretched arm. + +Joan gently forced him back into his chair; she untied his many +neckcloths; she bared his broad, hairy chest; she brought him water to +drink; and at length her tears and entreaties melted the stone-like +rigour; his head fell forward, his eyes closed, his hand unclasped, +and the letter fell to the floor. It did not interest Joan; nothing on +earth was of interest to her while her husband was in that horror of +stubborn suffering. + +"John," she whispered, with her face against his face--"John! My +John! My good heart, be yourself and tell Joan what is the matter. +Is it sickness of your body, John? Is it trouble of your mind, John? +Be a man, and speak to God and to me. God is our refuge and our +strength--think o' that. A very present help in trouble--present, not +a long way off, John, not in heaven; but here in your heart and on +your hearth. Oh, John! John! do speak to me." + +"To be sure, Joan! The letter, dear; read it--read it aloud--I may be +mistaken--it isn't possible, I'm sure. God help us both!" + +Joan lifted the letter and read aloud the words written so hastily in +a few moments of time, but which brought to two loving hearts years of +anxious sorrow: + + "'DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER:--I have just been married to Roland + Tresham, and we are on our way to London. I love Roland so much, I + hope you will forgive me. I will write more from London. Your + loving child, + + "'DENAS TRESHAM.'" + +"Oh, Joan, my dear! My heart be broken! My heart be broken! My heart +be broken!" + +"Now, John, don't you be saying such wisht dismal, ugly words. A heart +like yours is hard to break. Not even a bad daughter can do it. Oh, my +dear, don't you talk like that there! Don't, John." + +"'Tis the Lord's will, Joan--I do know that." + +"It be nothing of the kind, John. It be the devil's will when a child +do wrong such love as yours and mine. And there, now! Will you break +your brave old heart, that has faced death a hundred times, for the +devil? No, 'tis not like to be, I'm sure. Look at the worst of it. +Denas does say she be married. She does write her name with his name. +What then? Many a poor father and mother have drunk the cup we be +drinking--nothing strange have come to us." + +"I do not believe she be the man's wife." + +"Aw, my dear, I do believe it. And Denas be my daughter, and I will +not let you or any other man say but that she be all of an honest +woman. 'Tis slander against your awn flesh and blood to say different, +John." And Joan spoke so warmly that her temper had a good effect upon +her husband. It was like a fresh sea-breeze. He roused himself and sat +upright, and began to listen to his wife's words. + +"Denas be gone away--gone away for ever from us--never more our little +maid--never more! All this be true. But, John, her heart was gone a +long time ago. Our poor ways were her scorn; she have gone to her awn, +my dear, and we could not keep her. 'Tis like the young gull you +brought home one day, and, when it was grown, no love kept it from +the sea. You gave it of your best, and it left you; it lay in your +breast, John, and it left you. My dear! my dear! she be the man's +wife. Say that and feel that and stick to that. He be no son to us, +that be sure; but Denas is our daughter. And maybe, John, things are +going to turn out better than you think for. Denas be no fool." + +"Oh, Joan, how could she?" + +At this point Joan broke down and began to sob passionately, and John +had to turn comforter. And thus the painful hours went by, and the +bread was not baked, and the boats went to sea without John; and the +two sorrowful hearts sat together on their lonely hearth and talked of +the child who had run away from their love. They were uncertain what +to say to their neighbours, uncertain what their neighbours would say +to them. John thought he ought to go to Exeter and see all the +clergymen there, and so find out if Denas had been lawfully married. +Joan thought it "a wisht poor business to go looking for bad news. Sit +at your fireside, old man, or go far out to sea if you like it better, +and if bad news be for you it will find you out, do be sure of that." + +The next day it did find them out. The St. Penfer _News_, published on +Thursday, which was market-day, contained the following item: "On +Monday night the daughter of John Penelles, fisher, ran off with Mr. +Roland Tresham. The guilty pair went direct to London. Great sympathy +is felt for the girl's father, who is a thoroughly upright man and a +Wesleyan local preacher of the St. Penfer circuit." + +One of the brethren thought it his duty to show this paragraph to +John. And the "old man" in John gained the mastery, and with a +great oath he swore the words were a lie. Then, being sneeringly +contradicted, he felled "the man of duty" prone upon the shingle. +Then he went home and thoroughly terrified Joan. The repressed animal +passion of a lifetime raged in him like a wild beast. He used words +which horrified his wife, he kicked chairs and tables out of his way +like a man drunk with strong liquor. He said he would go to St. +Merryn's and get his money, and follow Roland and Denas to the end +of the world; and if they were not married, they should marry or +die--both of them. He walked his cottage floor the night through, +and all the powers of darkness tortured and tempted him. + +For the first time in all their wedded life Joan dared not approach +her husband. He was like a giant in the power of his enemies, and his +struggles were terrible. But she knew well that he must fight and +conquer alone. Hour after hour his ceaseless tramp, tramp, tramp went +on; and she could hear him breathing inwardly like one who has +business of life and death in hand. + +Toward dawn she lost hold of herself and fell asleep. When she awoke +it was broad daylight, and all was still in the miserable house. +Softly she opened the door and looked into the living-room. John was +on his knees; she heard his voice--a far-off, awful voice--the voice +of the soul and not of the body. So she went back, and with bowed +head sat down on the edge of her bed and waited. Very cold was the +winter morning, but she feared to make a movement. She knew it was +long past the breakfast hour; she heard footsteps passing, the shouts +of the fishers, the cries of the sea-birds; she believed it to be at +least ten o'clock. + +But she sat breathlessly still. John was wrestling as Jacob wrestled; +a movement, a whisper might delay the victory or the blessing. She +almost held her breath as the muttered pleading grew more and more +rapid, more and more urgent. Then there was a dead silence, a pause, a +long deep sigh, a slow movement--and John opened the door and said +softly, "Joan." There was the light of victory on his face; the cold +strong light of a lifted sword. Then he sat down by her side; but what +he told her and how she comforted him belong to those sacred, secret +things which it is a sacrilege against love to speak of. + +They went together to the cold hearth, and kindled the fire, and made +the meal both urgently needed, and, as they ate it, John spoke of the +duty before him. He had sworn at Jacob Trenager and knocked him down; +he had let loose all the devils within him; he had failed in the hour +of his trial, and he must resign his offices of class leader and local +preacher. + +It was a bitter personal humiliation. How his enemies would rejoice! +Where he had been first, he must be last. After he had eaten, he took +the plan out of the Bible and looked at it. As he already knew, he was +appointed to preach at St. Clair the following evening. He had +prepared his sermon on those three foggy days that began the week. He +then thought he had never been so ready for a preaching, and he had +the desire of a natural orator for his occasion. But how could he +preach to others when he had failed himself? The flight of his +daughter was in every mouth, and in some measure he would be held +responsible for her sin. Was not Eli punished for his son's +transgressions? The duty before him was a terrible one. It made his +brown face blanch and his strong, stern mouth quiver with mental +anguish. + +But he laid the plan on the table and crossed out carefully all the +figures which represented John Penelles. Then he wrote a few lines to +the superintendent and enclosed his self-degradation. Joan wondered +what he would do about the St. Clair appointment, for he had asked no +one to take his place, and early in the afternoon he told her to get +the lantern ready, as he was going there. She divined what he purposed +to do, and she refused to go with him. He did not oppose her decision; +perhaps he was glad she felt able to spare herself and him the extra +humiliation. + +Never had the little chapel been so crowded. All his mates from the +neighbouring villages were present; for everyone had some share of +that itching curiosity that likes to see how a soul suffers. A few of +the leaders spoke to him; a great many appeared to be lost in those +divine meditations suitable to the house of worship. John's first +action awakened everyone present to a sense of something unusual. He +refused to ascend the pulpit. He passed within the rails that enclosed +the narrow sacred spot below the pulpit, drew the small table forward, +and, without the preface of hymn or prayer, plunged at once into his +own confession of unworthiness to minister to them. He read aloud the +letter which he had received from his daughter, and averred his belief +in its truthfulness. He told, with the minutest veracity, every word +of his quarrel with Jacob Trenager. He confessed his shameful and +violent temper in his own home; his hatred and his desire and purposes +of revenge; and he asked the pardon of Trenager and of every member of +the church which had been scandalized by the action of his daughter +and by his own sinfulness. + +His voice, sad and visibly restrained by a powerful will, throbbed +with the burning emotions which made the man quiver from head to feet. +It was impossible not to feel something of the anguish that looked out +of his large patient eyes and trembled on his lips. Women began to sob +hysterically, men bent their heads low or covered their faces with +their hands; an irresistible wave of sorrow and sympathy was carrying +every soul with it. + +But, even while John was speaking, a man rose and walked up the aisle +to the table at which John stood. He turned his face to the +congregation, and, lifting up his big hand, cried out: + +"Be quiet, John Penelles. I be to blame in this matter. I be the +villain! There isn't a Cornishman living that be such a Judas as I be. +'Twas under my old boat Denas Penelles found the love-letters that +couldn't have come to her own home. Why did I lend my boat and myself +for such a cruel bad end? Was it because I liked the young man? No, I +hated him. What for, then?" He put his hand in his pocket, took out a +piece of gold, and, in the sight of all, dashed it down on the table. + +"That's what I did it for. One pound! A wisht beggarly bit of money! +Judas asked thirty pieces. I sold Paul Pyn for one piece, and it was +too much--too much for such a ghastly, mean old rascal. I be cruel +sorry--but there then! where be the good of 'sorry' now? That bit of +gold have burnt my soul blacker than a coal! dreadful! aw, dreadful! I +wouldn't touch it again to save my mean old life. And if there be a +man or a woman in Cornwall that will touch it, they be as uncommon bad +as I be! that is sure." + +"Paul, I forgive you, and there is my hand upon it. A man can only be +'sorry.' 'Sorry' be all that God asks," said John Penelles in a low +voice. + +"I be no man, John. I be just a cruel bad fellow. I never had a child +to love me or one to love. No woman would be my wife. I be kind of +forsaken--no kith or kin to care about me," and, with his brown, +rugged face cast down, he began to walk toward the door. Then Ann Bude +rose in the sight of all. She went to his side; she took his hand and +passed out of the chapel with him. And everyone looked at the other, +for Paul had loved Ann for twenty years and twenty times at least Ann +had refused to be his wife. But now, in this hour of his shame and +sorrow, she had gone to his side, and a sigh and a smile passed from +heart to heart and from face to face. + +John stood still, with his eyes fixed on the piece of gold. It lay on +the table like a guilty thing. All Pyn's sin seemed to have passed +into it. Men and women stood up to look at it where it lay--the +wretched tool of a bad man. It was a relief when Jacob Trenager gave +out a hymn, a greater relief that John Penelles went out while they +were singing it. Brothers and sisters all wished to talk about John +and John's trouble, but to talk to him in his grief and humiliation +was a different thing. Only the old chapel-keeper watched him going +along the rocky coast at a dangerous speed, his lantern swinging +wildly to his big strides. + +But a five-minutes' walk brought John to a place where he was alone +with God and the sea. Oh, then, how he cried out for pity! for +comfort! for help! for forgiveness! His voice was not the inaudible +pleading of a man praying in his chamber; it was like the despairing +call of a strong swimmer in the death-billows. It went out over the +ocean; it went out beyond time and space; it touched the heart of the +Divinity who pitieth the sufferers, "even as a father pitieth his +children." + +There was a glow of firelight through his cottage window, but no +candle. Joan was bending sorrowfully over the red coals. John was glad +of the dim light, glad of the quiet, glad of the solitude, for Joan +was only his other self--his sweeter and more hopeful self. He told +her all that had passed. She stood up beside him, she held his head +against her breast and let him sob away there the weight of grief and +shame that almost choked him. Then she spoke bravely to the +broken-down, weary man: + +"John, my old dear, don't you sit on the ash-heap like Job, and bemoan +yourself and your birthday, and go on as if the devil had more to do +with you than with other Christians. Speak up to your Heavenly Father, +and ask Him 'why,' and answer Him like a man; do now! And go to Exeter +in the morning, and make yourself sure that Denas be a honest woman. +I, her mother, be sure of it; but there then! men do be so bad +themselves, they can't trust their own hearts, nor their own ears and +eyes. 'I believe' will make a woman happy; but a man, God knows, they +must go to the law and the testimony, or they are not satisfied. It's +dreadful! dreadful!" + +They talked the night away, and early in the morning John went to +Exeter. With the proofs of his daughter's marriage in his hand, he +felt as if he could face his enemies. Joan was equal to them without +it. She knew they would find her out, and they found her singing at +her work. Her placid face and cheery words of welcome nonplussed the +most spiteful; the majority who came to triumph over her went away +without being able to say one of the many evil thoughts in their +hearts; and not a few found themselves hoping and wishing good things +for the bride. + +But it was a great effort, and many times that day Joan went into +the inner room, and buried her face in her pillow, and had her cry +out. Only she confidently expected John to bring back the proofs of +her child's marriage, and in that expectation she bore without +weakening the slant eye, and the shrugged shoulder, and the denying +looks of her neighbours. And of course John found no minister in +Exeter who had married Denas Penelles and Roland Tresham; and it +never once struck him that Denas had been married in Plymouth and +found no time to write until she reached Exeter. Neither did Joan +think of such a possibility; yet when her husband came in without a +word and sat down with a black, stubborn face, she knew that he had +been disappointed. + +That night John held his peace, even from good; and Joan felt that for +once she must do the same. So they sat together without candle, +without speech, bowed to the earth with shame, feeling with bitter +anguish that their old age had been beggared of love, and honour, and +hope, and happiness; and, alas! so beggared by the child who had been +the joy and the pride of their lives. + +At the same hour Denas sat with Roland in one of the fine restaurants +to be found in High Holborn. They had eaten of the richest viands, the +sparkle of the champagne cup was in both their eyes, and they were +going anon to the opera. Denas had a silk robe on and a little pink +opera cloak. Her long pale gloves and her bouquet of white roses were +by her side. Roland was in full evening dress. Their eyes flashed; +their cheeks flamed with pleasant anticipations. They rose from their +dinner with smiles and whispered love-words; and Roland ordered with +the air of a lord, "A carriage for the opera." + +From John and Joan these events were mercifully hidden. It is only God +who can bear the awful light of omniscience and of omnipresence. The +things we cannot see! The things we never know! Let us be unspeakably +grateful for this blessed ignorance! For many a heart would break that +lives on if it only knew--if it only saw--how unnecessary was its love +to those it loves so fondly! + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A PIECE OF MONEY AND A SONG. + + "Tis but a Judas coin, though it be gold; + The price of love forsworn, 'tis full of fears + And griefs for those who dare to hold; + And leaves a stain, only washed clean with tears." + + "Behold and listen while the fair + Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air; + She raised her voice so high, and sang so clear, + At every close she made the attending throng + Replied, and bore the burthen of the song; + So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note, + It seemed the music melted in the throat." + --DRYDEN. + + +The piece of money left by Pyn might have been a curse; no one would +touch it. While the women stood in groups talking of poor John +Penelles and Denas, the men held an informal meeting around the table +on which it lay. + +"This be the communion table," said Jacob Trenager; "some one ought to +take the money off it. And I think it be best to carry the gold to the +superintendent; he will tell us what to do with it;" and, after some +objections, Jacob took charge of the sinful coin, and the next morning +he went up the cliff to St. Penfer with it. + +The preacher heard the story with an intense interest. "Jacob," he +answered, "I suppose there be none so poor in your village as to feel +it might do them good?" + +"Man, nor woman, nor child, would buy a loaf with it, sir; none of us +men would let them. If Denas Penelles have gone out of the way, sir, +she be a fisher's daughter, and the man and the money that beguiled +her be hateful to all of us." + +"Your chapel--is it not very poor?" + +"Not poor enough to take the devil's coin, sir." + +"Well, Jacob, I cannot say that I feel any more disposed to use it +than you do. We know it was the wage of sin, and neither the service +of God nor the poor will be the better for it. I think we will give it +back to the young man. It may help to show him how his fellows regard +the thing he did." + +"That be the best way of all, sir. But he be in London, and hard to +find no doubt." + +"I will take it to his sister. I do not hold her quite guiltless." + +So Jacob threw the sovereign on the preacher's desk, and it lay on the +green baize, a yellow, evil-looking thing. For men love to make their +thoughts palpable to their senses, and this bit of gold was visible +sin--part of the price of a desolated home. + +It was singular to see this same personification troubling the +educated preacher as well as the unlearned fisherman. The Rev. William +Farrar, when left alone with the unwelcome coin, looked askance at it. +He did not like to see it on his desk, he had a repugnance to touch +it. Then he forced himself to lift the sovereign, and by an elaborate +fingering of the coin convince his intellect that he had no foolish +superstition on the subject. Anon he took out his purse for its safe +keeping, but suddenly, after a moment's hesitation, he snapped the +clasp tight, and threw the bit of money on the chimney-piece. For a +momentary flash of thought had brought vividly before him the sinful +Babylonish garment which troubled the camp of Israel. Perhaps that +sinful money might be equally malign to his own household. + +He had resolved to take it to Mrs. Burrell in the afternoon, for the +morning was his time for study and writing. But he found it impossible +to think of his sermon. That sovereign on the mantelpiece was in all +his thoughts. His back was to it, and yet he saw the dull shining +disc. In spite of his reason and his faith, in spite of a very strong +will and of a practiced command over himself, he felt the presence of +the rejected coin to be a weight and an influence he could not pretend +to ignore. + +So he resolved to leave every other duty and go to Burrell Court, +though it was a long walk, and the thick misty Cornish rain had begun +to fall. Indeed, there was nothing but a vapourish shroud, a dim, grey +chaos, as far as his eye could reach. The strip of road on which he +trod was apparently the only land left to tread on--all the rest of +creation had disappeared in a spectral mist. But above the mist the +lark was singing joyously, singing for the song's sake, and the melody +went down into his heart and preached him a better sermon than he was +ever likely to write. + +Listening to it, he reached, before he was aware, the great gates of +the Court. Mrs. Burrell was at home, and he sent a request for an +interview. Elizabeth instantly suspected that he had come on some +affair relating to that wretched business. She was in trouble enough +about it, but she was also proud and reticent, and not inclined to +discuss Roland with a stranger. + +Quite intentionally she gave to her manner a good deal of that +haughtiness which young wives think dignity, but which is in reality +the offensive freshness of new-made honour. The preacher offered her +his hand, but she did not see it, being fully occupied in arranging +the long train of cashmere, silk, and lace which, in those days, made +morning dresses a misnomer. + +"I am the Wesleyan preacher from St. Penfer, Mrs. Burrell." + +"Can I do anything for you, sir? though really, if yours is a +charitable visit, I must remind you that my own church looks to me for +all I can possibly afford." + +"I do not come, Mrs. Burrell, to ask for money. I bring you this +sovereign, which belongs to Mr. Roland Tresham." + +The gold fell from his fingers, spun round a few times, and, dropping +upon the polished mahogany table, made a distinct clink. + +"I do not understand you, Mr. Farrar." + +The preacher hastened to make the circumstance more intelligible. He +related the scene at the St. Clair chapel with a dramatic force that +sprang from intense feeling, and Elizabeth listened to his solemn +words with angry uneasiness. Yet she made an effort to treat the +affair with unconcern. + +"What have I to do with the sovereign, sir?" she asked. "I am not +responsible for Mr. Tresham's acts. I did my best to prevent the +disgrace that has befallen the fisherman's daughter." + +"I think you are to blame in a great measure." + +"Sir!" + +"Yes. I am sure you are. You made a companion of the girl--I may say a +friend." + +"No, sir, not a friend. She was not my equal in any respect." + +"Say a companion then. You taught her how to dress, how to converse, +how to carry herself above her own class. You permitted her to wander +about the garden with your brother." + +"I always watched them." + +"You let her talk to him--you let her sing with him." + +"Never but when I was present. From the first I told her what Roland +was--told her to mind nothing at all he said." + +"If you had put a glass of cold water before a man dying of thirst, +would you have been justified in telling him not to drink? You might +even have added that the water contained poison; all the same, he +would have drunk it, and your blame it would be for putting it within +his reach." + +"Indeed, Mr. Farrar, I will not take the blame of the creature's +wickedness. It is a strange thing to be told that educating a girl and +trying to lift her a step or two higher is a sin." + +"It is a sin, madam, unless you persevere in it. God does not permit +the rich, for their own temporary glory or convenience, to make +experiments with an immortal soul, and then abandon it like a soiled +glove or a game of which they have grown weary. What you began you +ought in common justice to have carried on to such perfection as was +possible. No circumstances could justify you in beguiling a girl from +her natural protectors and then leaving her in the midst of danger +alone." + +"Sir, this is my affair, not yours. I beg leave to say that you know +nothing whatever of the circumstances." + +"Indeed, I know a great deal about them, and I can reasonably deduce a +great deal more." + +"And pray, sir, what do you deduce?" + +"The right of Denas Penelles to have been retained as your companion. +Having made a certain refinement of life necessary to her, you ought +in common justice to have supplied the want you created." + +"All this trouble arose when I was on my wedding-trip." + +"I think you ought to have taken her with you." + +"Sir!" + +"I think so. It was hard to be suddenly deprived of every social +pleasure and refinement and sent back to a fisher's cottage to cure +fish, and knot nets, and knit fishing-shirts. How could you have borne +it?" + +"Mr. Farrar, such a comparison is an insult." + +"I mean no insult; far from it. Even my office would give me no right +to insult you. I only wish to awaken your conscience. Even yet it may +take up your abandoned duty." + +"Perhaps you do not know that I endeavoured last week to see Denas. I +wrote to her. I asked her to come and see me. I told her I wanted to +talk with her about Mr. Tresham. She did not even answer my letter. I +consider myself clear of the ungrateful girl--and as I am busy this +morning I will be obliged to you, sir, to excuse my further +attendance. Take the sovereign with you; give it to the poor." + +"God will feed His poor, madam." + +She made a little scornful laugh and asked: "Do you really inquire +into the character of all the money your church receives?" + +"No further, madam, than you inquire into the character of the +visitors you receive. Plenty of thieves and seducers are in every +society, but it is not until a man is publicly known to be a thief or +a seducer that we are justified in refusing him a courteous reception. +A great deal of money is the wages of sin, and it passes through our +hands and we are not stained by its contact; but if I give you a piece +of gold and say, 'It is the price of a slain soul, or a slain body, or +a slain reputation,' would you like to put it in your purse, or buy +bread for your children with it, or take it to church and offer it to +God? I wish you good-morning, Mrs. Burrell." + +And Elizabeth bowed and stood watching him until the door was closed +and she was alone with the coin. It offended her. It had been the +cause of a most humiliating visit. She looked at it with scorn and +loathing. A servant entered with a card; she took it eagerly, and +pointing to the money said, "Carry it to Mr. Tresham's room and lay it +upon the dressing-table." She was grateful to get it out of her sight, +and very glad indeed to see the visitor who had given her such a +prompt opportunity for ridding her eyes of its gleaming presence. + +Thus it is that not only present but absent personalities rule us. +In St. Penfer, Paul Pyn and Ann Bude, John and Joan Penelles, the +Rev. Mr. Farrar and Mrs. Burrell, were all that morning governed in +some degree by Roland's evilly spent sovereign; and he far off in +London was in the hey-day of his honeymoon with Denas. They were so +gay, so thoughtless and happy that people turned to look at them as +they wandered through the bazars or stood laughing before the +splendid windows in Regent Street. Many an old man and woman +smiled sympathetically at them; for all the world loves a lover, and +none could tell that these lovers had forfeited their right to +sympathy by stealing their pleasure from those who ought to have +shared it with them. + +But as yet the world was only an accident of their love, and there was +a whole week before them of unbroken and unsatiated delight--a whole +week in which neither of them thought of the past or the future; in +which every hour brought a fresh pleasure, something new to wear, or +to see, or to hear. If it could only have lasted! Alas! the ability to +enjoy went first. Amusements of every kind grew a little--a very +little--tiresome. The first glory was dimmed; the charm of freshness +was duller; the unreasoning delight of ignorance a little less +enthusiastic every day; and about the close of the third week Roland +said one morning, "You look weary, Denasia, my darling." + +"I am tired, Roland--tired of going a-pleasuring. I never thought +anything like that could possibly happen. Ought I not to be taking +lessons, learning something, doing something about my voice?" + +"It is high time, love. Money melts in London like ice in summer. +Suppose we go and see Signor Maria this morning." + +"I would like to go very much." + +"Then make yourself very fine and very pretty, and let me hear if your +voice is in good order to-day." He went to the piano and struck a few +chords, and throughout the still, decorous house, people in every room +heard the sweet voice chanting: + + "I will go back to the great sweet mother, + Mother and lover of men--the sea"-- + +heard it again in the weird, startling incantation: + + "Weave me the nets for the gray, gray fish"-- + +and up and down stairs doors were softly opened, and through every +heart there went a breath of the salt sea and a longing for the wide +stretches of rippled sands and tossing blue waters. + +Roland perceived the effect of the music and was satisfied. He had no +fear of their future. What if the gold was low in his purse? That +charmful voice was an unfailing bank from which to draw more. He was +so proud of his darling, so full of praises and admiration, that +Denas really put on an access of genius as she robed herself to his +flattering words. Pleasure, and hope, and a pretty pride in her +husband's eulogies lent her new physical graces. She was conscious +that there were eyes at every window watching Roland and herself leave +the house, and she felt certain that their owners were saying: "What a +handsome couple! How fond they are of each other! What a wonderful +voice she has!" + +It is easy to be gay, and even beautiful, to such thoughts; and Roland +and Denas reached Signor Maria's in a glow of good-humour and good +hope. The Signor was at home and ready to receive them. He was a +small, thin, dark man with long, curling black hair and bright black +eyes. He bowed to Roland and looked with marked interest into the +fair, sparkling face of Denas. He was much pleased with her appearance +and quite interested in her ambitions. Then he opened the piano and +said, "Will monsieur play, or madame?" + +Roland played and Denas sang her very best. The Signor listened +attentively, and Roland was sure of an enthusiastic verdict; on the +contrary, it was one of depressing qualifications. The Signor +acknowledged the quality of the voice, its charmful, haunting +tones--but for the opera! oh, much more--very, very much more was +needed. Madame must go to Italy for three years and study. She must +learn the Italian language; the French; the German. Ah! then there was +the acting also! Had madame histrionic power? That was indispensable +for the grand opera. But in three years--perhaps four--with fine +teachers her voice might be very rich, very charming. _Now_ it was +harsh, crude, unformed. Yes, it wanted the soft, mellowing airs of +Italy. Where had madame been living--what was called "brought up?" + +Denas answered she had always lived by the sea, and the Signor nodded +intelligently and said: "Yes! yes! that was what he heard in her +voice; the fresh wild winds--yes, wild and salt! It is airs from the +rose gardens, velvety languors off the vineyards, heat and passions of +the sunshine madame wants. Indeed, monsieur may take madame to Italy +for two, three, perhaps four years, and then expect her to sing. Yes, +then, even in grand opera." + +This was undoubtedly the Signor's honest opinion, but Roland and Denas +were greatly depressed by it; Denas especially so, for she had an +inward conviction that he was right; she had heard the truth. It was +almost two different beings that left Signor Maria's house. Silently +Roland handed Denas into the waiting cab, silently he seated himself +beside her. + +"I am afraid I have disappointed you, Roland." + +"Yes, a little. But we are going now to Mr. Harrison's. There is +nothing foreign about him. He is English, and he knows what English +people like. I shall wait for his verdict, Denas." + +"It was a long ride to Mr. Harrison's, and Roland did not speak until +they were at his door. This professor was a blond, effusive, large man +of enthusiastic temperament. He was delighted to listen to Mrs. +Tresham, and he saw possibilities for her that Signor Maria never +would have contemplated; though when Roland told him what Maria had +said he endorsed his opinion so far as to admit the excellence of such +a training for a great prima donna. + +"But Mrs. Tresham may learn just as well by experience as by method," +he averred. "She sings as the people enjoy singing. She sings their +songs. She has a powerful voice, which will grow stronger with use. I +think Mr. Willis will give her an immediate engagement. Suppose we go +and see. Willis is at the hall, I should say, about this time." + +This seemed a practical and flattering offer, and Roland gladly +accepted it. Willis Hall was soon reached. It was used only for +popular concerts and very slight dramas in which there was a great +deal of singing and dancing. It had a well-appointed stage and +scenery, but the arrangement of the seats showed a general democracy +and a great freedom of movement for the audience. + +"Willis is always on the lookout for novelties," said Professor +Harrison, "and I am sure these fishing songs will 'fetch' such an +audience as he has." + +As he was speaking Mr. Willis approached. He listened to Professor +Harrison's opinion and kept his eyes on Denas while he did so. He +thought her appearance taking, and was pleased to give her voice a +trial. The hall was empty and very dull, but a piano was pulled +forward to the front of the stage and Roland took his seat before it. +Denas was told to step to the front and sing to the two gentlemen in +the gallery. They applauded her first song enthusiastically, and Denas +sang each one better. But it was not their applause she listened +to--it was the soft praises of Roland, his assurances of her success, +which stimulated her even beyond her natural power. + +At the conclusion of the trial Mr. Willis offered Denas twelve pounds +a week, and if she proved a favourite the sum was to be gradually +increased. The sum, though but a pittance of Roland's dreams, was at +least a livelihood and an earnest of advance, and it was readily +accepted. Then the little company sat down upon the empty stage and +discussed the special songs and costumes in which Denas was to make +her debut. + +Never before in all his life had Roland found business so interesting. +He said to Denas, as they talked over the affair at their own +fireside, that he thought he also had found his vocation. He felt at +home on the stage. He never had felt at home in a bank or in a +business office. He was determined to study, and create a few great +characters, and become an actor. He felt the power; it was in him, he +said complacently. "Now," he added, "Denas, if you become a great +singer and I a great actor, we shall have the world at our feet. And I +like actors and those kind of people. I feel at home with them. I like +the life they lead--the jolly, come-day go-day, wandering kind of +life. I never was meant for a respectable man of business. No: the +stage! the stage! That is my real life. I am certain of it. I wonder I +never thought of it before." + +It had been arranged that Denas was to open with Neil Gow's matchless +song of "_Caller Herrin'!_" and her dress was of course that of an +idealized Newhaven fisher-girl. Her short, many-coloured skirts, her +trig latched shoon, her open throat, and beautiful bare arms lifted to +the basket upon her head was a costume which suited her to admiration. +When she came stepping down the stage to the immortal notes, and her +voice thrilled the house with the ringing musical "cry" that none hear +and ever forget: + + Cal-ler her-rin'! cal-ler her-rin'! cal-ler her-rin'! + +the assembly broke into rapturous delight. It was a song not above +their comprehension and their feeling. It was interpreted by one to +whom the interpretation was as natural as breathing. She was recalled +again, and again, and again, and the uproar of approval only ceased +when the next singer advanced with a roll of music in his hand. He was +a pale, sentimental young man whose forte was despairing love-songs, +but + + "The last links are broken + That bound me to thee" + +had little interest after Mademoiselle Denasia's unique melody. For +it was by this name Denas had consented to be known, the French prefix +having but a very indefinite significance to her mind. Roland had +told her that it meant a lady, and that all singers were either +mademoiselle or madame, and that she was too young for madame, and +the explanation had been satisfactory. + +Certainly, if signs could be trusted Mademoiselle Denasia was likely +to be a name in many mouths; for her second and third songs were even +more startling in their success than "Caller Herrin'," and Mr. Willis +would permit no further recalls. + +"We must give them Denasia in small doses," he said, laughing; "she is +too precious to make common," and Roland winced a moment at the +familiar tone in which his wife's name was spoken. But both alike were +under a spell. The intoxicating cup of public applause was at their +lips. Their brains were full of the wildest dreams, their hearts full +of the wildest hopes. No consideration at that time could have turned +their feet aside from the flower-covered, treacherous path they were +so gayly treading. + +Such a life would have simply been beyond the power of John and Joan +Penelles to imagine. Its riot of dress and emotions and its sinful +extravagance in every direction would have been to them an astounding +revelation of the possibilities of life. As it was, their anxiety took +mainly one direction: the uncertainty attending the marriage of their +daughter. Denas had indeed said she was Roland's wife, but the St. +Penfer _News_ implied a very different relationship; and John had all +that superstitious belief in a newspaper which is so often an +attribute of ignorance. + +At any rate, the want of authentic data about the marriage humiliated +and made him miserable. Two more weeks had passed since that eventful +Sunday night service at St. Clair, and yet John had no assurance of a +more certain character to rely on. Three or four illustrated papers +had been received with "love from your daughter, Denas Tresham," +written on the title-page; but the claim thus made satisfied no one +but Joan. Joan believed in the validity of the name, and handed around +the sheets with a confidence few cared to in any degree dispute. + +The third Sunday was an important one to the fisher-folk. There was to +be a missionary sermon preached in the St. Clair chapel, and John and +Joan went there. The chapel was crowded. Joan got a seat, but John +lingered in the small vestibule within the door among the few brethren +waiting for the strange preacher. It was the same person who had +married Roland and Denas, and after he had shaken himself free from +his dripping cloak he looked at the men around him, and his eyes fell +upon John. And probably all the circumstances of that marriage were +either well known or accurately divined, for he took the big fisherman +by the hand and said cheerfully: + +"John Penelles, I am glad, very glad indeed to meet you. I suppose you +know that it was I who married your daughter?" + +If a fixed star had fallen at John's feet he could not have been more +amazed. His large face lightened from within, he clasped firmly the +preacher's hand, but was so slow in forcing speech from his swelling +heart that the preacher continued: + +"Yes, they came to me, and I remembered your pretty child. I tied +them true and fast, you may be sure of that, John." + +"Where, sir?" + +"In Plymouth Wesleyan chapel, to be sure." + +"Thank God! Thank you too, sir! You might say so--some people here be +slow to believe, sir, and it be breaking my heart, it be indeed, +sir." + +There was only a nod and smile in reply, but John was extremely +happy. He tried to get near to Joan and tell her; but the aisles were +full and the service was beginning. John held his own service, and +the singing, and the prayer, and preaching were just a joyful +accompaniment to the thanksgiving in his heart. At length the +service was over, and the preacher lifted a number of slips of paper +and began to read aloud the announcements made on them. Missionary +meetings, tea meetings for missions, a bazaar at St. Penfer for +missions, a Bible meeting, a class meeting, and the service for that +evening. Then, while the congregation were still expectant, he said +in a clear, pleasant voice: + +"I am requested also to say that on December the 17th, on Tuesday +morning at nine o'clock, I united in the holy bands of marriage +Denasia, the daughter of John Penelles, fisher of St. Penfer, to +Roland Tresham, gentleman of that place. The ceremony was performed by +me in the Wesleyan chapel at Plymouth; myself, my wife, and two +daughters being witnesses to it. We will now sing the 444th hymn: + + "'Lord over all, if Thou hast made, + Hast ransomed every soul of man.'" + +And all the congregation rose, and in the rising the conscious glance +that passed through the chapel was lost in a more general purpose. It +was presumed, at least, that everyone was singing a prayer for the +heathen. Only Joan Penelles made no effort to think of India or +Africa. Her face, full of radiant assurance, looked confidently over +the crowd, seeking her husband's mutual glance of pleasure. Her faith +had been justified. Her girl was an honourable wife--the wife of a +gentleman well known to all. She had no longer any need to hide the +wounding look or doubtful word in a protesting attitude, as painful to +her as it was offensive to others. + +Well, it is a very hard thing to rejoice with those that do rejoice; +evidently in that little chapel it was easier for the worshippers to +be sorry for the heathen than to be glad for their brother and sister +Penelles. Never had John and Joan felt themselves so far away from the +sympathy of their fellows. Only a few rough men who handled the nets +with John, and who knew how hard the duty had been to him since his +little girl went away, said a word of congratulation. But one and +another of these, as they passed John and Joan on their way home, said +a hearty "Praise God, brother John," or a "God bless you both, 'twas +good news for you this morning." But, with or without sympathy, the +happy father and mother walked to their house that day up-head and +bravely. Their hearts had been miraculously lightened, and it was not +until the burden had rolled away that they knew how woefully heavy it +had been. + +The next afternoon, when the wind was blowing inland too fiercely to +permit boats to leave the harbour, a man who had been up the cliff +brought back with him a letter for the Penelles. It was evidently from +Denas. John looked at the postmark, "London," and turned it around and +around till Joan was nervous. "Aw, then, John, do open it, and read +what be inside--do, my dear!" And John read: + + "DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER:--I have been intending to write to you + every day, but I have been so happy that the days went away like a + dream. I wish you knew my dear Roland as I do. He is the kindest + of men, the most generous, the dearest in the whole world. He does + nothing but try how to give me pleasure. He has bought me such + lovely dresses, and rings, and bracelets, and he takes me + everywhere. I never, never did think life could be so happy. I am + going to have lessons too. I am to be taught how to sing and to do + other things right, and your little Denas is the very happiest + girl in the world. London is such a grand place, the very streets + are all shows. Your loving daughter, + + "DENAS TRESHAM. + + "P. S.--Perhaps you may wonder where we were married. It was at + Plymouth, by the Wesleyan preacher. Father knows him, I think. + D. T." + +A dead silence followed the reading of the letter. Joan sat upright +with a troubled face. She had been washing the dinner dishes; the +towel lay across her lap, and her fingers pleated and unpleated the +bit of coarse linen. John laid his arms across his knees and dropped +a stern face toward them. The bit of white paper was in his big brown +fingers. He did not speak a word; his heart was full, his eyes were +full, his tongue was heavy and dumb. Joan grew restless and hot with +anger, for she was wounded in every sense. + +"Aw, my dear, she be so happy with that man she do forget the days she +was happy with you and me, John. She do forget all and everything. Aw, +then, 'tis a cruel, thoughtless letter. Cruel beyond words to +tell--dreadful! aw, dreadful! God help us! And I do wish I could +forget her! And I do be sorry she was ever born." + +"Whist! whist! my old dear. She has gone into the wilderness. Our one +little ewe lamb has gone into the wilderness, and aw, my dear, 'twill +keep us busy all night and day to send love and prayer enough after +her. There be wolves there, Joan; wolves, my dear, ready to +devour--and the man she loves, he be one of them. Poor little Denas!" + +Then Joan went on with her housework, but John sat silent, bending +down toward the letter. And by and by his white face glowed with a +dull red colour, and he tore the letter up, tore it very slowly into +narrow ribbon-like strips, and let them fall, one by one, at his feet. +He was in a mood Joan did not care to trouble. It reminded her of the +day when he had felled Jacob Trenager. She was glad to see him rise +and go to the inner room, glad to hear that he bolted the door after +him. For in that temper it was better that John should complain to God +than talk with any human being. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A VISIT TO ST. PENFER. + + "Oh, waly waly, but love be bonny + A little while while it is new; + But when 'tis auld it waxeth cauld + And fades away like morning dew." + --OLD SONG. + + "Oh, and is all forgot-- + All school days' friendship, childhood's innocence? + + . . . . . . . . . . + + Our sex as well as I may chide you for it, + Though I alone do feel the injury." + --SHAKESPEARE. + + +Denasia made her _debut_ in the last ten days of January, and she +retained the favour of that public which frequented Willis Hall for +three months. Then her reputation was a little worn; people whistled +and sang her songs and were pleased with their own performance of +them. And Roland, also, had tired a little of the life--of its +regularity and its obligations. He was now often willing to let any +other performer who desired to do so take his place at the piano. He +began to have occasional lookings-backward to Burrell Court and the +respectability it represented. + +Then at the close of April Denasia fell ill. The poor girl fretted at +the decline of enthusiasm in her audience. She made stupendous efforts +to regain her place in the popular favour, and she failed because of +the natural law which few are strong enough to defy--that change is as +necessary to amusement as fidelity is to duty. Denasia did not indeed +reason about the event; the simple fact that she had no recalls and no +clamorous approval made her miserable, and then sickness followed. + +She was very ill indeed, and for four weeks confined to her room; and +when she was able to consider a return to the hall, Roland found that +her place had been taken by a Spanish singer with a mandolin and a +wonderful dance. That was really a serious disappointment to the young +couple, for during the month money had been going out and none coming +in. For even when Denasia had been making twenty-five pounds a week, +they had lived and dressed up to the last shilling; so that a month's +enforced idleness and illness placed them deeply in debt and +uncomfortably pressed for the wherewithal to meet debt. + +Denasia also had been much weakened by her illness. Her fine form and +colour were impaired, she was nervous and despondent; and a +suffering, sickly wife was quite out of Roland's calculations and +very much out of his sympathies. Poverty had a bad effect upon him. To +be without money to buy the finest brand of cigars, to be annoyed by +boarding-house keepers, tailors, and costumers, to have to buy +medicines with cash when he was without his usual luxuries, was a +condition of affairs that struck Roland as extremely improper for a +young man of his family and education. + +And he disliked now to interview managers. Mademoiselle Denasia was a +recognised member of the profession which more than any other demands +that everyone stand upon their merits; and Denasia had not been a very +pronounced success. She remained just about where she had begun, and +managers naturally thought that she had done the best of which she was +capable. That best was not a phenomenal one, and Roland, as her +husband and business agent, received no extraordinary amount of +respect. He was offended where he had no reason for offence--offended +often because everyone did not recognise him as a member of an old +Cornish family and the son of an ex-lord mayor of London. Often he +felt obliged, in order to satisfy his own self-respect, to make the +fact known; and the chaff, or indifference, or incredulity, with which +his claims were received made him change his opinions regarding the +"jolly company of actors." In fact, he was undoubtedly at this period +of Denasia's career her very worst enemy; for whatever Denasia might +be, Roland and his pretensions were usually regarded as a great bore. + +One afternoon in May he became thoroughly disgusted with the life he +had chosen for himself. The bright sunshine made the shabby carpet and +tawdry furniture and soiled mirrors intolerably vulgar. They had just +finished a badly cooked, crossly served, untidy dinner, and Roland had +no cigar to mend it. Denasia had not eaten at all; she lay on the +bright blue sofa with shut eyes, and her faded beauty and faded dress +were offensive to the fastidious young man. + +She was thinking of her father's cottage, of the love at its hearth, +and of the fresh salt winds blowing all around it. Roland half-divined +her thoughts, and his own wandered to Burrell Court and his +long-neglected sister. + +Suddenly he resolved to go and see her. Elizabeth had always plenty +of money, then why should he be without it? And the desire having +entered his heart, he was as imperative as a spoiled child for its +gratification. Denasia's physical condition did not appeal to him in +any degree; he could not help her weakness and suffering, and +certainly it was very inconvenient for him. He felt at that hour as +if Denasia had broken her part of their mutual compact, which had +not included illness or loss of prestige and beauty. He turned +sharply to her and said: + +"Denasia, I am going to St. Penfer. I shall have to sell a ring or +something valuable in order to get the fare, but I see no other way. +Elizabeth never disappointed my expectations; she will give me money, +I am sure." + +"Don't leave me, Roland. I will get well, I will indeed, dear. I am +better this afternoon. In a few days--in a week, Roland, I can find +some place to sing. Please have a little patience. Oh, do, my dear!" + +"Little patience! What are you saying, Denasia? You are very +ungrateful! Have I not had patience for a whole month? Have I not +spent even my cigar-money for you? Patience, indeed!" + +"Is there nowhere but St. Penfer? No person but Elizabeth?" + +"I can go to St. Merryn's, if you like. Give me an order for the money +in your name at St. Merryn's Bank." + +She turned sullen in a moment. "I have told you a thousand times, +Roland, I would rather die of hunger than rob my father." + +"Very well, then, why do you complain if I go to my own people? I hope +when I return you will be better." + +"Roland! Roland! You are surely not going to leave me--in a +moment--without anything?" + +Her cry so full of anguish brought him back to her side; but his +purpose had taken full possession of him; only he left her with those +kisses and promises which women somehow manage to live upon. He still +loved her in his way of loving, but his way demanded so many pleasant +accidentals that it was impossible for Denasia always to provide them. +And yet, having once realised, in a great measure, his ideal of her +value to his happiness, he did feel that her sudden break-down in +health was a failure he ought to show disapproval of. + +However, there was method even in Roland's selfish plans. He did not +wish to find Mr. Burrell at St. Penfer, so he went to the bank and +ascertained his whereabouts. He was told that Mr. Burrell had just +left for Berlin, and was likely to be a week or ten days away. This +information quite elated Roland. He sold his watch and took the first +train to Cornwall. And as he was certain that Elizabeth would have +settled his bill at the Black Lion, he went there with all his old +swaggering good-humour and thoroughly refreshed himself before going +out to Burrell Court. + +Elizabeth gave him a hearty welcome; she was indeed particularly glad +to see him just then. She was lonely in the absence of her husband; +she had just had a slight disagreement with the ladies at a church +meeting; she was feeling her isolation and her want of family support; +and she had met, for the first time since their interview, the Rev. +Mr. Farrar, who had presumed to arrest her coachman and, in the +presence of her servants, congratulate her on the marriage of her +brother and her friend. Under the circumstances, she had judged it +best to make no remarks; but she was very angry, and not sorry to have +the culprit in her presence and tell him exactly what she thought of +his folly and disgrace. + +She kept the lecture, however, until they had dined and were alone; +then, as he sat serenely smoking one of Mr. Burrell's finest cigars, +she said: + +"I hope you are come back to me, Roland. I hope you have left that +woman for ever." + +"Who do you mean by 'that woman,' Elizabeth?" + +"De--You know who I mean." + +"Denas! Left Denas! Left my wife! That is absurd, Elizabeth! I wanted +to see you. I could not bear to be 'out' with you any longer. You +know, dear, that you are my only blood relative. Denas is my relative +by marriage. Blood is thicker than--everything." + +"Roland, you know how I love you. You are the first person I remember. +All my life long you have been first in my heart. How do you think I +liked to be put aside for--that fisher-girl? It nearly broke my heart +with shame and sorrow." + +"I ought to have told you, Elizabeth. I did behave badly to you. I am +ashamed of myself. Forgive me, darling sister." And he pulled his +chair to her side, and put his arm around her neck, and kissed her +with no simulated affection. For he would indeed have been heartless +had he been insensible to the true love which softened every tone in +Elizabeth's voice and made her handsome face shine with tender +interest and unselfish solicitude. + +"I ought to have told you, Elizabeth. I believe you are noble enough +to have accepted Denas for my sake." + +"I am not, Roland. Nothing could have made me accept her. I have taken +a personal dislike to her. I am sure that I cannot even do her +justice." + +"She has been very ill. She is still very weak. I have been unable to +get her all the comforts she ought to have had--unable to take her to +the sea-side, though the doctor told me it was an imperative +necessity. We have been very poor, but not unhappy." + +"I understood she was making a great deal of money with her trashy, +vulgar little songs." + +"She was until she fell ill. And whatever her songs are, they have +been very much admired." + +"By her own class. And you let her sing for your living! I am amazed +at you, Roland!" + +"I do not see why. You wanted me to marry Caroline Burrell and let her +support me out of the money old Burrell worked for. Denas loves me, +and the money she gives me is given with love. Old Burrell never saw +me, and if he had I am quite sure he would have hated me and despised +me as a fortune-hunter. Denas is a noble little darling. She has never +inferred, either by word or look, that she sang for my living. It took +you to do that, Elizabeth. Besides, I help Denas to make money. I +arrange her business and I play her accompaniments, and, as I said, I +love her and she loves me. Why, I have done without cigars to buy +medicines for her; and if that isn't a proof of my devotion, I do not +know how to give one! I can tell you that Mademoiselle Denasia is a +great favourite with everyone." + +"Mademoiselle Denasia!" cried Elizabeth with the utmost scorn. +"Mademoiselle! and Denasia! However, she might well change her name." + +"She did not change her name. She was baptised Denasia." + +"Robert went to hear her sing. He says it was in a fourth-rate place, +and I can tell you he was burning with indignation to see his +brother-in-law playing a piano there." + +"Then he ought to let his anger burn to some purpose. Signor Maria +says that if Denasia had proper masters and was sent to Italy for two +or three years she could sing in grand opera. Mind, Maria says that; +not I. Suppose you get Robert to send Denas to Italy." + +"I will do nothing at all for Denas. And I think, Roland, that you +ought to do something for yourself. I hate to think of my own brother +taking his living from that fisherman's daughter. It is a shame! +Father brought you up like a gentleman, sent you to college, gave you +an opportunity----" + +"If father had given me a profession of any kind, if he had put me in +the army or the navy, I should be to blame. If he had bought me a kit +of carpenters' tools and had me taught how to use them, I should be no +man at all if I looked to a woman for a living. But he did not. He +sent me to college, gave me expensive tastes, and then got me a desk +in a bank, where the only prospect before me was to add figures for +the rest of my life for two pounds a week. Naturally I looked around +for something more to my liking. I found Denasia. I loved her. She +loved me. I could play, she could sing, and we made twenty-five pounds +a week. That is the true state of the case." + +"And do you intend to spend your life playing accompaniments to +fishing-songs?" + +"No. I am studying for the stage." + +"Roland Tresham! Roland Tresham!" + +"I think I have a new conception of the character of Orlando and I +flatter myself the Romeo is yet to be played. I shall attempt it next +winter. Now, Elizabeth, all the summer is before us. If you will not +ask us to Burrell Court, then do in sisterly kindness send us to some +quiet sea-side place to study. We could, of course, come to Penelles' +cottage----" + +"No, you could not. John Penelles would not permit you to enter his +door. He says he will never forgive his daughter until she leaves you +for ever. I understand him. I cannot fully forgive you while you +remain with that woman." + +"Who told you John Penelles said such a thing? I do not believe it." + +"Priscilla Mohun. He said it to her." + +"Ah! He would not say it to Denasia. And it would not be a bad place +to study. I should soon be a favourite with the fishers. I know how to +get around that class of people, and I am fond of the sea and could +spend a month very comfortably there. Cigars make any place +comfortable." + +"You are talking simple nonsense, Roland. You know it, too. Penelles +would not endure your presence five minutes." + +"I have done his daughter no harm." + +"He believes that you have ruined her immortal soul. You are the devil +incarnate to John Penelles. He would not let you put your foot in his +cottage. And he is not a man to trifle with. He knocked Jacob Trenager +down, and the man goes lame ever since, they say." + +"I am not going in his way to be knocked down. It is absolutely +necessary, both for Denas and myself, to be near London. If we had the +means I would go to Broadstairs or perhaps Hastings." + +"Do you want to ask me for money, Roland? If so, be man enough to ask +me plainly." + +"Yes, I want money, Elizabeth. I want you to give it to me. I have not +troubled you for a long time, have I? All my life long I have come to +you for money, and you never yet refused me. My dear sister, I +remember that you once sold a brooch for me when we were both +children." He kissed her and was silent, and Elizabeth's face was wet +with tears. + +"I could give the last shilling I had to you, Roland," she said, "but +it is hard to ask me to rob myself for that woman." + +"She is my wife. I want her to get strong and well. She is a comfort +and a pleasure to me. You were always glad to give me money for my +comforts and pleasures. You never before asked me what they were or +said: 'You cannot have money for such or such a purpose.' You gave me +money for whatever I wanted. Now I want Denas." + +"Mademoiselle Denasia!" + +"Well, then, Denasia. I want Denasia as I want my cigars or any other +pleasant thing in life. Does it matter to you, if the money makes me +happy, how I spend it?" + +"If you put the question in that light I do not suppose it does +matter." Then after a moment's pause: "Every shilling will be a coal +of fire upon Mademoiselle Denasia's head. There is nothing wrong in +that consideration--it is perfectly Christian." + +"I should say it was perfectly unchristian; but, then, I am only a +sinner. However, Elizabeth, if you can help me to get Denasia to the +sea-side the action will be a good one, and we need not go about to +question the motives for it. I think one hundred pounds will keep us +until Denasia is able to sing again or I get an engagement as Romeo. I +shall make up splendidly as Romeo. You must come and see me, +Elizabeth." + +"Not for anything in life! And one hundred pounds is a large sum of +money. I cannot afford it." + +"But, Elizabeth, I must have one hundred. I need every penny of it. I +cannot do with less. Give me one hundred, Elizabeth." + +"I tell you it will trouble me very much to spare a hundred pounds. It +will indeed, Roland." + +But Roland stuck to the idea of one hundred pounds, and finally +Elizabeth gave way before his entreaties. She looked at the handsome +fellow and sighed hopelessly. She said, "I will give it to you, and do +as you wish with it." Why should she now look for consideration from +her brother? He had never yet reached higher ground than "I want;" and +to expect Roland to look beyond himself was to expect the great +miracle that never comes. + +He remained with his sister ten days, and thoroughly enjoyed the +change of life. And indeed he found himself quite a little hero in St. +Penfer. Miss Mohun met him with smiles; she asked sweetly after Mrs. +Tresham and never once named the fifty pounds Roland had promised her. +The landlady of the Black Lion made a great deal of him. She came +herself of fisher-folk, and she was pleased that the young gentleman +had treated her caste honourably. The landlord gave him cigars and +wine, and all the old companions of his pleasures and necessities +showed him that they approved his conduct. The Rev. Mr. Farrar made a +point of praising him. As he stood with the landlord of the Black Lion +at the open door of the inn, he said to him: + +"Mr. Tresham, I respect your strength of character. I know that +in certain circles of society it is considered a slight offence +for a young man to seduce a girl of the lower orders; but that a +_mesalliance_ with her is a social crime almost unpardonable. +You have said boldly to the whole community that it is more +ungentlemanly to wrong a poor girl's honour than to marry a wife +below your own station. Sir, such an example is worth all the +sermons that could be preached on the subject." + +And Roland listened to all the spoken and unspoken praise given him +with a smiling appropriation. It really never struck him, or +apparently anyone else, that Denas might have been the person who took +care of her own honour; or that Roland had done right because he could +not induce his companion to do wrong. And there was another popular +view of this marriage which was singularly false--the general +assumption that Denas had been greatly honoured by it, and that John +and Joan Penelles ought to be pleased and satisfied. Why not? Such a +decision was the evident one, and how many people have the time or the +interest in any subject to go below or beyond the evident? + +One morning when Roland had been put into a very good humour by the +public approval of his conduct, he saw John Penelles and Tris Penrose +and two other fishers go into the Ship Inn together. They had Lawyer +Tremaine with them, and were doubtless met to complete the sale or +purchase of some fishing-craft. Roland knew that it would be an affair +to occupy two or three hours, and he suddenly resolved to go down the +cliff and interview his mother-in-law. It would please Denasia, and he +was himself in that reckless mood of self-complacency which delights +in testing its influence. + +Without further consideration he lit a fresh cigar and went down the +familiar path. It was full of memories of his wooing of Denas, and he +smiled with a soft triumph to them. And the exquisite morning, the +thrushes singing to the sun, the fluting of the blackbirds, the south +wind swinging the blue-bells, the mystical murmur of the sea--all +these things set themselves unconsciously to his overweening +self-satisfaction. + +The door of the Penelles cottage was wide open, and he stood a moment +looking into it. The place had an Homeric simplicity and beauty which +touched his sense of fitness. On the snow-white hearth there was a +handful of red fire, and the bright black hob held the shining kettle. +A rug of knitted bits of many-coloured cloths was before it, and on +this rug stood John's big cushioned chair. The floor was white as +pipeclay could make it; the walls covered with racks of showy +crockery; the spotless windows quite shaded with blossoming flowers; +and the deal furniture had been scrubbed with oatmeal until it had +the colour and the beauty of ivory. + +Joan sat with her back to the door. She was perfectly still. At her +feet there was a pile of nets, and she was mending the broken meshes. +When Roland tapped she let them fall and stood upright. She knew him +at once. Her fine rosy face turned grey as ashes. She folded her arms +across her breast and stood looking at the intruder. For a moment they +remained thus--the gay, handsome, fashionably-dressed young man +smiling at the tall grave woman in her neat print gown and white linen +cap. Roland broke the silence. + +"I am Roland Tresham," he said pleasantly. + +"I do know you. What be you come for? Is Denas--where be my child? Oh, +man, why don't you say the words, whatever they be?" + +"I am sorry if I frightened you. I thought you might like to know that +Denas was well and happy." + +Then Joan went back to her nets and sat down without a word. + +"I was in St. Penfer on business, and I thought you would like to +know--might like to know--you see, I was here on business--" + +He was growing every moment more uncomfortable and embarrassed, for +Joan bent busily over her work and her back was to him. + +"You see, I was here on business. I wanted to see my sister. I thought +you would like to know about Denas." + +She turned suddenly on him and asked: "Where be my child?" + +"I left Denas in London." + +"You be a coward. You be a tenfold coward. Why didn' you bring your +wife home with you? Did Denas send me no letter--no word for +myself--for my heart only? Speak then; I want my letter." + +"I left in a hurry. She had no time to write." + +"Aw, then, why did you come here without a word of comfort? You be +cruel as well as cowardly. No word! No letter! No time! There then! +take yourself away from my door. 'Twas a wisht cruel thought brought +you here. Aw, then, a thought out of your own heart. You be a bad man! +dreadful! dreadful!" + +"Come, my good woman, I wish to be kind." + +"Good woman! Sure enough! but I have my husband's name, thank God, and +there then! when you speak to me I be called by it--Joan Penelles. And +Joan Penelles do wish you would turn your back on this house; she do +that, for you do have a sight of ghastly mean old ways--more than +either big or little devil means a young man to have. There then! Go +afore John Penelles do find you here. For 'twill be a bad hour for you +if he do--and so it will!" + +"I did not expect such a reception, Mrs. Penelles. I have dealt +honourably with your daughter." + +"You have made my daughter to sin. Aw, then, I will not talk about my +daughter with you. No indeed!" + +"Have you no message to send to Denas?" + +"Denas do know her mother's heart and her father's heart, and when +she do find it in her own heart to leave that sinful place--the +the-a-tre--and dress herself like a decent wife and a good woman, and +sing for God and not for the devil, and sing for love and not for +money, aw, then, who will love her as quick and as warm as I will? But +if you do want a message, tell her she have broken her good father's +life in two; and that I do blame myself I ever gave her suck!" + +Roland listened to these words with a scoffing air of great amusement; +he looked steadily at Joan with a smile that was intolerable to her, +then he raised his hat with an elaborate flourish and said: + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Penelles." + +No notice was taken of this salute, and he added with an offensive +mirthfulness: + +"Perhaps I ought to say, 'Good-morning, mother.'" + +Then Joan leaped to her feet as if she had been struck in the face. +She kicked the nets from her and strode to the open door in a flaming +passion. + +"Aw, then!" she cried, "not your mother, thank God! Not your mother, +or you'd be in the boats making your awn living. You! you cruel, +cowardly, lazy, lounging, bad lot! Living on my poor little girl, you +be! You vampire! Living on her body and soul." + +"Madam, where is Mr. Penelles?" + +"Aw, to be sure. Well you knew he wasn' here, or you would never have +put foot this road. And no madam I be, but honest Joan Penelles. Go! +The Pender men are near by. Go!--and the Trefy men, and Jack +Penhelick, and Reuben Trewillow. Go!--they are close by, I tell you. +Go!--if I call they'll come. Go!--or they will know the reason why!" + +Then, still smiling and knocking the end of his cigar against the end +of his cane, Roland leisurely took the road to the cliff. But Joan, in +her passionate sense of intolerable wrong, flung up her arms toward +heaven, and with tears and sobs her cry went up: + +"O my God! Look down and see what sin this Roland Tresham be doing!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +FATHERLY AND MOTHERLY. + + "In youth change appears to be certain gain; + Age knows that it is generally certain loss." + + "The worst wounds are those our own hands inflict." + + "Like as a father pitieth his children." + + "A mother is a mother still, + The holiest thing alive." + --COLERIDGE. + + +Ten days of the methodical serenity of Burrell Court wearied Roland, +and with money in his pocket the thought of London was again a +temptation. He was quickly satisfied with green gardens and +sea-breezes; the pavements of Piccadilly and Regent Street were more +attractive. And for Roland, the last wish or the last plan held the +quality of fascination. When he turned his back upon Burrell Court, +Elizabeth faded from his thoughts and affections; it was Denasia who +then drew him through every side of his vivid imagination and reckless +desires. + +He had written to her as soon as Elizabeth promised him the money he +needed; for he believed when Denasia was free from care she would +speedily recover her health and strength. He pleased himself all the +way home with the anticipation of his wife's smiles and welcome, and +he was a little frightened not to see her face at the window the +moment his cab arrived. He expected her to be watching; he was sure, +if she were able, she would not have disappointed him. He had a +latch-key in his pocket, and he opened the door and went rapidly to +the room they occupied. It was empty; it was cleaned and renovated and +evidently waiting for a new tenant. + +Full of trouble and amazement, he was going to seek his landlady, when +she appeared. She was as severely polite as people who have got the +last penny they hope to get out of one can be. Mrs. Tresham had gone +to the sea-side. She had left five days ago--gone to Broadstairs. The +address was in the letter which she gave him. Greatly to Roland's +relief she said nothing about money, and he certainly had no wish to +introduce the subject. + +But he was amazed beyond measure. Where had Denasia got money? How had +she got it? Why had she said nothing to him? He had had a letter two +days before, and he took it out of his pocket and re-read it. There +was no allusion to the change, but he saw that the postmark showed it +to have been mailed on the way to the Chatham and Dover Railway. +However, he was not anxious enough to pursue his journey that night. +He went to a hotel, had a good dinner, slept off his fatigue, and +started for Broadstairs at a comfortable hour in the morning. + +Nothing like jealousy troubled him. He had no more fear of Denasia's +honour and loyalty than he had of the sun rising; and with a hundred +pounds in his pocket curiosity was a feeble feeling. "Some way all is +right, and when a thing is right there is no need to worry about it." +This was his ultimate reflection, and he slept comfortably upon it. + +Broadstairs was a new place, and to Roland novelty of any kind had a +charm. A fine morning, a good cigar, a change of scene, and Denasia at +the end, what more was necessary to a pleasant trip? His first +disillusion was the house to which he was directed. It was but a +cottage, and in some peculiar way Roland had persuaded himself that +Denasia had not only got money, but also a large sum. The cottage in +which he found her did not confirm his anticipations. And in the small +parlour Denasia was taking a dancing-lesson. An elderly lady was +playing the violin and directing her steps. Of course the lesson +ceased at Roland's entrance; there was so much else to be talked +over. + +"Why did you come to this out-of-the-way place?" asked Roland with a +slight tone of disapprobation. + +"Because both my singing and dancing teachers were here for the summer +months, and I longed for the salt air. I felt that it was the only +medicine that would restore me. You see I am nearly well already." + +"But the money, Denasia? And do you know that old harpy in London +never named money. Is she paid?" + +"Why do you say harpy? She only wanted what we really owed her. And +she was good and patient when I was ill. Yes, I paid her nine +pounds." + +"I have one hundred pounds, Denasia." + +"You wrote and told me so." + +"Elizabeth gave it to me; and I must say she gave it very kindly and +pleasantly." + +"Of course Elizabeth gave you it. Why not? Is there any merit in her +doing a kindness to her own brother pleasantly? How else should she do +it?" + +"It was given as much for you as for me." + +"Decidedly not. If Elizabeth has the most ordinary amount of sense, +she knows well I would not touch a farthing of her money; no, I would +not if I was dying of hunger." + +"That is absurd, Denasia." + +"Call it what you will. I hate Elizabeth and Elizabeth hates me, and I +will not touch her money or anything that is bought with it. For you +it is different. Elizabeth loves you. She is rich, and if she desires +to give you money I see no reason why you should refuse it--that is, +if you see none." + +"And pray what are you going to do?" + +"Have I suffered in your absence? You left me sick, nervous, without a +shilling. I have made for myself a good engagement and received fifty +pounds in advance." + +"A good engagement! Where? With whom?" + +"I am learning to sing a part in 'Pinafore.' I am engaged at the +Olympic." + +"Denasia!" + +She flushed proudly at his amazement, and when he took her in his arms +and kissed her, she permitted him to see that her eyes were full of +happy tears. + +"Yes," she resumed in softer tones, "I went to see Colonel Moss, and +he was delighted with my voice. Mr. Harrison says I learn with +extraordinary rapidity and have quite wonderful dramatic talent, and +madame has almost as much praise for my dancing. I had to pay some +bills out of the fifty pounds; but I am sure I can live upon the +balance and pay for my lessons until September. As soon as I am strong +enough to look after my costumes, my manager will advance money for +them." + +"Do you mean that you are to have fifty pounds a week?" + +"I am to have thirty pounds a week. That is very good pay, indeed, for +a novice." + +"For six nights and a matinee? You ought to have had far more; it is +not five pounds a performance. You ought to have ten pounds. I must +see about this arrangement. Moss has taken advantage of you." + +"I have given my promise, Roland, and I intend to keep it. You must +not interfere in this matter." + +"Oh, but I must!" + +"It will be useless. I shall stand to my own arrangement." + +"It is a very poor one." + +"It is better than any you ever made for me." + +"Of course! I had all the preparatory work to do, getting you +known--getting a hearing for you, in fact. Now the harvest is ripe, it +is easy enough to get offers. You had better let me have a talk with +Moss." + +"I have signed all the necessary papers. I have accepted fifty pounds +in advance. I will not--no--I will not break a letter of my promise +for anyone." + +"Then I shall have nothing to do with the affair. It is a swindle on +Moss' part." + +"No, it is not. He made me a fair offer; I, of my own free will and +judgment, accepted it." + +"Thirty pounds a week! What is that for a first-class part?" + +"It is a good salary. I can pay my expenses and buy my wardrobe out +of it. You have Elizabeth's money. When it is done she will +probably give you more. She ought to, as you preferred trusting to +her." But though the words were laughingly said, they sprang from a +root of bitterness. + +In fact, Roland quickly discovered that those ten days he had so idly +passed at Burrell Court with his sister had been ten days of amazing +growth in every direction to Denasia. She had wept when Roland so +suddenly left her; wept at his want of faith in her, at his want of +care for her, at his indifference to her weakness and poverty. But to +sit still and cry was not the way of her class. She had been +accustomed to reflect, when trouble came, whether it could be helped +or could not be helped. If the former, then it was "up and about it;" +if the latter, tears were useless, and to make the best of the +irrevocable was the way of wisdom. + +In an hour she had conquered the physical weakness which spoke by +weeping. A suspicion of cruelty gave her the salutary stimulus of a +lash; she sat upright and began to plan. The next day she went out, +sold a bracelet, hired a cab, and went from one manager to another +until she succeeded. Brought face to face with the question of work +and wage, all the shrewd calculating instincts of a race of women +accustomed to chaffer and bargain awoke within her. She sold her wares +to good advantage, and she knew she had done so. Then a long-nascent +distrust of Roland's business tact and ability sprang suddenly to +vigorous life. She realised in a moment all the financial mistakes of +the past winter. She resolved not to have them repeated. + +The sea air soon restored all her vigour and her beauty. She gave +herself to study and to practice with an industry often irritating to +Roland. It reproached his own idleness and it deprived him of her +company. He did indeed rehearse his characters, and in a stealthy way +he endeavoured to find a better engagement for Denasia. He was sure +that if he were successful there would be no difficulty in inducing, +or if necessary compelling, his wife to accept it. He could as easily +have made Queen Victoria accept it. For with the inherited shrewdness +of her class she had also their integrity. She would have kept any +engagement she made even if it had ruined her. + +The winter was a profitable one, though not as happy as Denasia had +hoped it would be. They had no debts and were able to indulge in many +luxuries, and yet Roland was irritable, gloomy, and full of unpleasant +reminiscences and comparisons. He thought it outrageous for Moss to +refuse the payment of his wife's salary to him. And Denasia had a +disagreeable habit of leaving a large portion of her income with the +treasurer of the company, and then sending her costumer and other +creditors to the theatre for payment. Indeed, she was developing an +independence in money matters that was extremely annoying to Roland. +He felt that his applications to Elizabeth were perpetual offences to +Denasia, and if he had been a thoughtful man he would have understood +that this separation of their interests in financial matters was the +precursor of a much wider and more dangerous one. + +Roland had other unpleasant experiences to encounter. It seemed +incredible that the handsome, witty, fascinating Mr. Tresham could +possibly be a bore, and yet the authorities in various green-rooms +either said so in plain English or made him aware of the fact through +every other sense but hearing. He felt himself to be politely or +sarcastically quizzed. Stars ignored him; meaner lights gave him a +bare tolerance. A few inquired if his grand relatives had yet forgiven +him. One or two affected to have heard he had an offer from Henry +Irving, or some other histrionic luminary; in fact, he gradually was +made to understand that Roland Tresham was by no means a name to +conjure with. + +He did not tell Denasia of these humiliations, and she believed that +his chagrin and ill-temper arose from his continual disappointments. +He could get no chance worthy of his efforts for a trial of his new +Shakespearian interpretations. He felt sure there was a coalition +against him. "Let a man have a little more beauty or talent than the +crowd, and the crowd are determined to ruin him, naturally," he said, +and he believed his own dictum thoroughly. Toward the end of the +season, however, he did obtain a hearing under what were undoubtedly +favourable circumstances; and then the press was his enemy. And he +knew positively that the adverse criticisms were the results of +venality, or ignorance, or want of taste, or of that brutal +conservatism which makes Englishmen suspicious of everything not +endorsed by centuries of use and wont. + +It may be easily seen how these personal irritations made an unhappy +atmosphere in which to dwell. And Roland had another disappointment +also which he hardly liked to admit to himself--Denasia was changing +so rapidly. The society into which he himself had brought her forced +the simple, trustful, ignorant girl into observations and calculations +which lifted her unconsciously to a level, perhaps in some respects to +a plane above her husband. She was naturally clever, and she learned +how to dress herself, how to take care of herself, how to look out for +her own interests. Roland had intended to dictate to her, and she +began to smile at his dictations and to take her own way, which she +charmingly declared was the only reasonable way for her to take. + +During this interval Roland wrote often to Elizabeth. He wanted some +one to complain to, and Elizabeth was the only person he knew who was +willing to listen to his complaints. She perceived very early the +little rift between husband and wife which might be bridged by love or +might become an abyss in which love would be for ever lost. It must, +however, be noted to her credit that she avoided any word likely to +widen it. She did not like Denasia, but she had a controlling sense +of honour. She had also a lofty ideal of the sacredness of the +marriage tie. To have made trouble between a man and his wife would, +in Elizabeth's opinion, have been as wicked a thing as to break into a +church vestry and steal the sacramental silver. But she did sympathize +with her brother, and advise him, and send him money. And naturally +Denasia, who thought badly of Elizabeth, resented her interference in +her life at all; so that there was usually a coolness between Roland +and Denasia after the arrival of a letter from Burrell Court. + +In truth, any letter from St. Penfer at this period of Denasia's life +hurt her. She longed for her own people. She felt heart-sick for a +word from them. In some moment of confidence or ill-temper, Roland had +given his wife his own version of the visit to his mother-in-law. And +whatever else he remembered or forgot, he was clear and positive about +Joan's message to her daughter. She had broken her good father's life +in two and her mother was sorry she had ever given her suck. Denasia +knew her mother's passionate nature, and she could understand that +some powerful aggravation had made her speak so strongly, but the +words, after all allowances, were terrible words. They haunted her in +the midst of her professional excitements, and still more in the +solitude of her frequently restless nights. + +And if Joan had felt this a year ago, Denasia knew that she now felt +much more bitterly; for in one of her letters to Roland Elizabeth had +written freely of the passionate anger of John Penelles when he +learned that his daughter had become a public dancer. Indeed, +Elizabeth affected to think it very cruel of Denasia to send to her +old ignorant parents the illustrated paper which contained her picture +in the dance act. She thought Denasia's vanity had overstepped all +bounds and become positive cruelty, etc., etc. And Denasia, in a +passion which matched any outbreak of her father's, vowed not only +that she had never sent such a paper to St. Penfer, but that Elizabeth +herself must have been the perpetrator of the cruelty, unless--and she +then gave Roland a glance which made him wonder where his willing and +obedient Denasia of former days had gone. + +In all essential points this story was a false one. It was indeed true +that some person had sent to the Penelles cottage a London paper, in +which there was a large picture of Denasia and the admiral dancing the +famous hornpipe. But the manner of its reception was matter of +speculation only, and the speculative had founded their tale upon the +known hastiness of John and Joan's tempers, without taking into +consideration the presence of unknown influences. + +As it happened, the pictured girl was received in the St. Penfer +post-office during a storm. John had been called in the grey dawn to +the life-boat, and Joan, in spite of wind and rain, went down to the +beach with him. With a prayer in her heart, she saw him buckle on his +buoyant armour and set his pale blue oar like lance athwart his rest, +and then make straight out into the breakers that dashed and surged +around. Joan saw the boat's swift forward leaping, its downward plunge +into the trough of the sea, its perilous uplifting, its perpendicular +rearing, its dread descent. And John felt its human reel and shudder, +its desperate striving and leaping and plunging, and its sad +submission when the waters half filled it and the quivering men clung +for very life under the deluge pouring over them. + +So for three hours John was face to face with awful death, and Joan on +her knees praying for his safety, and John had but just got back to +his home, and the cry of thanksgiving for her old dear's return was +yet on Joan's lips, when the postman brought the fateful newspaper. +Fortunately they did not open it at once. Joan laid it carefully aside +and brought on their belated breakfast. And as they ate it they talked +of the lives that were lost and saved. Then John smoked his pipe, and +Joan tidied up her house and sat down beside him with her knitting in +her hands. Both their hearts were solemn and tender. John felt as if +his life was a new gift to him; Joan, as if her husband's love had +some miraculous sweetness never known before. They spoke seldom and +softly, finding in their responsive silence a language beyond words. + +It was, then, in this gentle mood that John reached to the shelf above +his head and took down the paper. He opened it, and Denas in her +pretty dancing dress, with her bare arms lifted above her head, looked +her father full in the face. She was laughing; she was the incarnation +of merriment and of consciously graceful, captivating vivacity. The +miserable father was, however, fascinated; he gazed and gazed until +his eyes overflowed, and his hands trembled, and the paper fell with a +rustle to the floor. + +Joan lifted it and looked at her husband. His eyes were shut, he was +sobbing inwardly as punished children sob in sleep. She spoke to him, +and he opened his eyes and pointed to the paper. Then Joan met the +same well-beloved face. The mother's cheeks burned red and redder, her +eyes flashed, she straightened out every crease, as if the pictured +satin and lace had been real; and then turning to the printed page, +she read aloud every word of adulation. + +They had talked together of the men and women drowned within sight of +land that morning, but here was their only child dancing in sight of +eternal death, and they could not say a word to each other about her. +For it must be remembered that these simple, God-fearing fisher-folk +had been strictly and straitly reared in a creed which regarded +dancing as one of the deadly sins. They honestly believed that there +was but a step between their darling and eternal death, and if she +should take that step while dancing! To have known that she was on the +ship which had just gone to pieces on the rocks would not have made +them so heart-sick. Their very souls shivered as they thought of her. +As for John, he could find only those two words that spring +instinctively to every soul in trouble, "O God!" + +But he motioned Joan to take the paper away, and Joan took it into +the room which was still called "Denas' room." She kissed the pictured +face, the hair and eyes and mouth, the lifted arms, the slender +throat. She could not bear to crush the paper together; she opened a +drawer and laid it as gently within as if she had been putting her +baby in its coffin. At this hour there was no anger in her heart; +there was even a little motherly pride in her child's beauty and grace +and cleverness. At this extremity of ill-doing she did not altogether +blame Denas. She was certain that before Denas danced, some one had +somehow persuaded the girl that it was not wicked to dance. "Denas do +have principles," she said stiffly, "and the man do not live who can +make her do wickedly if she do think it be wicked." + +She looked with a sad affection around the little room. How lonely it +was! Yes, it is the living who desert us that make lonely rooms, and +not the dead. We know the dead will never come back, but oh, how long +it seems to wait for the living! Month after month to keep the room +ready for the one who does not come for our longing! Month after month +to dress the bed and the table, and lay out the books they loved, and +the little treasures that may tell they were unforgotten. Joan looked +at the small dressing-table holding the shell box, and the satin +pincushion, and the alabaster vase which Denas had once thought +beautiful beyond price. The snowy quilt and pillows, the carefully +kept floor and chairs, the clothing washed and laid with sprigs of +lavender in the tidy drawers--oh, what poetry and eloquence of +untiring, undespairing mother-love were in these things! + +But this patient, loving pity for their erring child was an attitude +not easily supposable, and Denasia did not suppose it. She knew from +Roland's report that her appearance as a public singer had caused her +parents great sorrow and anger, and she could only imagine a still +deeper anger when she added the sin of dancing to other causes of +offence. But this alienation from her own people was the bitter drop +in all her success and in all her pleasure. For now that the illusions +and selfishness of her bride-days were past, the faithful home +affection that never wounded and never deceived resumed its +importance, and she longed for her father's kiss and her mother's +breast. + +But every day the day's work is to face, and Denasia's days were fully +occupied by their obvious duties. So week after week and month after +month wore on in alternations of hope and despair, happiness and +vexation, loving and quarrelling. Roland certainly, with his +discontent and abiding sense of wrong, threw a perpetual shadow over +life. She did not even dare to take, with any show of pleasure, such +poor satisfaction as her passing fame awarded. A man may be jealous of +the praise given to his own wife, and there were times when Roland +could not understand Denasia's success and his own failure--bitter +hours in which the poor girl felt that whether she pleased her +audience or did not please them, her husband was sure to be offended +and angry. + +She was almost glad when, at the close of the season, the company +disbanded and she was at liberty to retire. She had saved money and +was resolved to resume her studies. There was at least nothing in that +to irritate her husband, and she had a strong desire to improve her +talent in every direction. One evening Roland entered their +sitting-room in that hurry of hope and satisfaction once common enough +to him, but of which he had shown little during the past winter. +Denasia looked up from her writing with a smile, to meet his smile. + +"Denasia," he cried impulsively, "what do you think? We are going to +America! The United States is the place for me. How soon can you be +ready?" + +"But, Roland? What?" + +"It is true, dear. Whom are you writing to?" + +"I was writing to Mr. Harrison and to madame. I want to know if they +are going to Broadstairs this summer, for where they go I wish to go +also; that is, if they can give me lessons." + +"A waste of money, Denasia. I have had a long talk with some of the +men who are here with the American company. Splendid fellows! They +tell me that my Shakespearian ideas will set New York agog. New +Yorkers give every one a fair hearing; at least 'there's nothing beats +a trial!' That is a New York motto, and these people are sure I would +have a fair trial there. And the country is so big! So big, Denasia, +that the parts you know will last you for years. There is not a bit of +need for you to study new songs and dances. Sing the old ones in new +places. Why, you may travel thousands of miles in all directions--big +cities everywhere, little ones scattered thick as blackberries on all +the railroad routes, and railroad routes are spread like spider-webs +all over the United States! That is the country for us! New York first +of all, then Chicago, St. Louis, Salt Lake, San Francisco, New +Orleans--oh, hundreds of cities! And money, my dear! Money for the +picking up--that is, for the singing for." + +"I do not believe a word of it, Roland. It is all talk. I am going to +Broadstairs to spend the summer in study." + +Roland looked a moment at the handsome, resolute woman who had resumed +her writing, and he wondered how this Denasia had sprung from the +sweetly obedient little maid he had once manipulated to his will with +a look or a word. However, he could not spare her. It was not only her +earnings he required; her beauty and talent gave him a kind of +reflected importance, and he expected great things from their united +efforts in the wonderful new world of which he had just begun to +think. + +So he set himself to win what it was evident he could not command, +and, Denasia's womanly instincts being stronger than her artistic +instincts, the husband conquered. The sweet words and kisses, the +frank acknowledgment of his faults, the declaration that his whole +future hung now on her support and interest in his American scheme, +moved Denasia to concede where she felt sure she ought to have +refused. But when a man finds all other arguments fail with a woman, +he has only to throw himself upon her unselfishness. To prove it, she +will ruin her own life. Denasia was sure she was going a wrong road, +but then Roland asked her to take it for his sake, and to show her +love for him she offered up her own hopes and desires, and offered +them with smiles and kind words and an affected belief that the change +might be as good for her reputation as for her husband's. She did +indeed--as good women do a kindness--surrender herself entirely, and +pretended that the surrender was her own desire and her husband's +complaisance a thing he deserved praise for. + +However, Roland's enthusiasms were undoubtedly partly contagious. Even +Denasia, who had so often been deceived, was partly under their +influence. His words had caught something of the vastness of the land +of his hopes, and he talked so ambitiously and with so much certainty +that the untravelled woman caught his fever once more. Then she also +suffered the idea of America to fascinate her, and she permitted +Roland to bring his new friends to see her, for she desired to be +entirely possessed by the idea which was now to be the ruling motive +of their lives. It was decided that they should sail about the middle +of June. "We shall then have time to become familiar with the country, +and we need not be in a hurry to decide about engagements. Hurry is +such a mistake," said Roland with oracular wisdom. And Denasia hoped +and smiled, and then turned away to hide the sudden frown and sigh. +For the heart is difficult to deceive, and Denasia's heart warned her +morning, noon, and night. But to what purpose? Who heeds the warning +from their higher selves? Though one rose from the dead to point out a +fatal mistake, how many would heed the messenger? For when love says, +"This is the way," wisdom, fate, death itself may speak in vain. + +About a week before the voyage, Roland said one night: "I think now, +Denasia, that we have everything packed, I shall run down to St. +Penfer and see my sister. I may never come back from America. Indeed, +I do not think I shall ever want to come back, and I really ought to +bid Elizabeth good-bye. She will doubtless also remember me in money +matters, and in a strange country money is always a good friend. Is it +not, dear? What do you think, Denasia?" + +"I have been thinking a great deal of St. Penfer. My heart is like to +break when I think of it. I do want to see my father and mother so +much." + +"You would only get a heart-break, my love. They would have no end of +reproaches for you. I shall never forget your mother. Her temper was +awful!" + +"You must have said something awful to aggravate her, Roland. Mother +has a quick temper, but it is also noble and generous. I do want to +see her. I must see her once more. Let us go together." + +"To St. Penfer? What a foolish idea! You would only give yourself a +wretched memory to carry through your whole life." + +"Never mind! I want to go to St. Penfer." + +"How can you? I cannot take you to Burrell Court, Denasia." + +"I would not put my foot inside Burrell Court." + +"Then if I went there and you went to your father's house, that would +look very bad. People would say all kinds of wicked things." + +"We could stop together at the Black Lion. From there you could call +upon Elizabeth. From there I could go to my father and mother. Even if +they should be cruel to me, I want to see them. I want to see them. If +father should strike me--well, I deserve it. I will kiss his hand for +the blow! That is how I feel, Roland." + +"I shall not permit my wife to go to any place where she expects to be +struck. That is how I feel, Denasia." + +"You are ashamed to take me to St. Penfer as your wife. And yet you +owe me this reparation." + +"There is no use discussing such a foolish statement. I do not think I +owe you anything, Denasia. I have given you my name; at this very +moment I am considering your welfare. You know that money is +necessary, and as much of it as we can get; but Elizabeth will give me +nothing if you are tagging after me." + +"If you are going begging, Roland, that alters the question. I have no +desire to 'tag' after you on that errand. As for Elizabeth, I hate +her." + +"Why should you hate her? She was always good to you." + +"Good! Do not name the woman. If you want to go to her, go. I hope you +will carry her nothing but sorrow and ill-luck. I do! I do! I hate her +as the sailor hates the sunken reef. I have not asked myself why. I +only know that I have plenty of reason." + +"Do not be so excessive, Denasia. I shall leave for the West to-night. +Would you like me to see your father? Your mother I decline to see." + +"Leave my father alone. You would not dare to go near him. If you do I +will never speak to you again--never!" + +Roland laughed lightly at her passion and answered with a provoking +pleasantry: "You feel too, too, too furiously, Denasia. It is not +ladylike. Your emotions will wear away your beauty." + +So Roland went by the night train to St. Penfer, and Denasia took the +train after his for the same place. She was determined to see her +parents once more, and all their habits were so familiar to her that +she had no fear of accomplishing her desire unknown to them. She timed +her movements so well that she arrived at a small wayside station near +St. Penfer about dusk. No one noticed her, and she sped swiftly across +the cliff-path, until it touched the path leading downward to her own +home. + +The little village was quite still. The children had gone to bed. The +men were at sea. The women were doing their last daily duties. Denasia +kept well in the shadow of the trees till she was opposite her home. A +few steps across the shingle would bring her to the door. She tried to +remember what her mother might be doing just at that hour, and while +thus employed Joan came to the door, stood a moment on the threshold, +and then went slowly to the next cottage. She had her knitting in her +hand, and she was likely going to sit an hour with Ann Trewillow. When +Joan's footsteps no longer crunched the shingle there was no sound but +the ocean beating on the shore and the wind stirring the tree-tops, +and when Joan and Ann Trewillow went inside Ann's cottage there was +not another human creature visible. + +Swiftly, then, Denasia crossed the shingle. She was at the door of her +home. It stood wide open. She entered and looked around. Nothing was +changed; the same glow of red fire on the white hearth, the same order +and spotless cleanliness, the same atmosphere of love and peace and of +life holy and simple. She was not hungry, but she was very thirsty and +exceedingly weary. The bucket was full of freshly drawn water; she +drank and then turned her face to her own room. A strong, sweet +curiosity tempted her to enter it, and its air of visible welcome made +her smile and weep. It was then impossible to resist the desire that +filled her heart; she shut the door, she unclothed herself, and once +more lay down in her home to sleep. + +"It is hardly likely mother comes into this room more than once a +week; she will not, at any rate, come into it to-night. I shall hear +her return and go to bed. When she is asleep I will look once +more--once more on her dear face. Father will be home in the dawning. +I will watch for his coming. If he goes to bed at once I may get away +before any person sees me. If he sits and talks to mother, I may hear +something that will give me courage to say, 'I am here! Forgive me!' +I must trust to luck--no, no, to God's pity for me!" + +Thinking thus, she lay in weary abandon on her childhood's bed. The +monotonous tick of the old clock, the simmering of the kettle on the +hob, and the deep undertone of the ocean soothed her like a familiar, +unforgotten lullaby. In a few minutes she had fallen into a deep, +dreamless sleep. + +She was asleep when Joan returned. Joan had gone to her neighbour's to +ask a question about the boats, and she remained there for more than +an hour. For Ann Trewillow had heard of Roland's arrival in the +village, and she and Joan had some opinions to express on the subject. +So that when Joan returned to her own cottage, it was with her heart +beating to memories of her daughter. + +She put a little more coal on her fire and then went for a drink of +water. The tin cup was not in its usual place, for Denas had left +it on the table. Joan looked at the cup with a face full of +questions. Had she left it there? She never before had done such a +thing. Who then had been in her house? Who had been drinking from her +water-bucket? She asked the questions idly, without fear, but with a +certain curiosity as to her unknown visitor. Then she put more water +into the kettle and set a cup and saucer for her husband in case +he wanted a drink of hot tea when he came in from the fishing. All +the time she was thinking of Denas, and the girl seemed to grow +into the air beside her; she felt that if she whispered "Denas" +she might hear the beloved voice answer "Mother." + +Unknown to any mortal, Joan had made a kind of idol of the pictured +Denasia. She was sorry for her weakness in this matter, but she was +not able to resist the temptation of very frequently opening the +drawer in which it lay, of looking at it, and of kissing it. Her +conversation, her thoughts, her fancies made her child-sick. She +longed for a sight of her darling's face, and she lifted a candle and +went to the door of the room in which it lay hidden. + +There was always an unacknowledged sense of self-indulgence in this +act, and the sense made her go a little softly about it, as if it had +to be done secretly. She opened the door slowly, and the rush candle +showed her clothing scattered about the room. Her heart stood still; +she was breathless; she put down her light and on tiptoes went to the +bedside. Denas was fast asleep. Her long hair lay loose upon the +pillow, her face was pale and faintly smiling, her hands open and at +rest upon the coverlet. Her deep, slow breathing showed her to be far +below conscious being, and Joan knelt down at her child's side and +filled her empty eyes with the fair picture and her empty heart with +the hopes it inspired. + +Still Denas slept. Then Joan went into the outer room and sat down to +wait for John. As the dawn came up the East she pushed aside the +foliage of her flowering plants and watched the beach for John's +approach. He came on with his mates, but they scattered to their +cottages, and at last he was alone. Then Joan went to the door and he +smiled when he saw her waiting. She made an imperative motion of +silence; she took his string of fish and his water-bottle out of his +hands and laid them very softly down, and while John was yet lost in +amazement at her actions, she put her hand in his and led him to their +girl's bedside. Without a word both stood looking at her. The dawn +showed every change in her young face, and the pathos of hidden +suffering was revealed unconsciously as she slept. + +There is some wonderful magnet in the human eye; no sleeper can long +resist its influence. As John and Joan gazed steadily on their +sleeping daughter she, became restless, a faint flush flew to her +cheeks, she moved her hands. Joan slipped down on her knees; when the +girl opened her eyes she was ready to fold her in her arms. John stood +upright, and it was his wide-open, longing gaze which brought +Denasia's soul back to her. She gazed back silently into her father's +face for a moment and then murmured: + +"Father! forgive me! Oh, mother! mother!" + +They forgave her with tears of joy. They put her fault out of words +and out of memory. Confession and forgiveness was an inarticulate +service of sorrow; but joy and welcome were eloquent and full of +tender words. For once John locked his door and did not call his +neighbours to share his gladness. He speedily understood the shortness +and secrecy of her visit. After all, it was but a farewell. The joy +was dashed with tears. The hope quickly faded away. + +They did not try to turn her from the way she had promised to go. John +said only, "The Lord go with you, Denas," and Joan wept at the +thought of the land so far, far off. But they divined that their child +had her own sorrows, that the lot of woman had found her out, that she +had come to places where their love could not help her. Yet the visit, +short and unsatisfactory as it was, made a great difference in +Penelles' cottage. It lifted much anxiety. It gave the father and +mother hopes which they took to God to perfect, excuses which they +pleaded with Him to accept. Their confidence in their child was +strengthened; they could pray for her now with a more sure hope, with +a more perfect faith. + +When the gloaming came on thick with Cornish fog Joan kissed her +darling good-bye with passionate love and grief, and John walked with +his "little dear" through the dripping woods to the wayside station, +and lifted her into the carriage with a great sob. None of the three +could have borne such another day, but oh, how glad was each one that +they had dared, and enjoyed, and suffered through this one! It left a +mark on each soul that eternity would not efface. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A COWARDLY LOVE. + + "Howso'er I stray or range, + Whate'er I do, thou dost not change; + I steadier step when I recall + That if I slip thou dost not fall." + --CLOUGH. + + "Have you buried your happiness? Well, live bravely on. The plant + does not die though all its flowers be broken off. It remembers + that spring will surely come again." + + +Roland and Denasia were in Liverpool. They were full of hopes and of +prudent plans. Roland had again turned over a new leaf; he had +renounced his past self--the faults he could no longer commit; he had +renounced also his future faults. If he was a little extravagant in +every way for a day or two before making so eventful a voyage, he felt +that Denasia ought not to complain. Alas! it is not the renunciation +of our past and future selves that is difficult; it is the steady +denial of our present self which makes the disciple. + +They spent two pleasant days in Liverpool, and on the eve of the +second went to the wonderful piers and saw the vast companies of +steamers smudging the blue sky with their lowering clouds of black +smoke. Denasia clung closely to Roland; she felt that she was going +into a new world, and she looked with a questioning love into his +eyes, as if she could read her fortune in them. Roland was unusually +gay and hopeful. He reminded his wife that the mind and the heart +could not be changed by place or time. He said that they had each +other to begin the new life with, and he was very sure they would soon +possess their share of every other good thing. And Denasia fell asleep +to his hopeful predictions. + +In the morning all was changed. The sun was hidden behind banks of +black clouds, the streets were plashy and muddy, the fierce showers +smote the windows like hail, and the view outside was narrowed to a +procession of dripping umbrellas. It was chilly, too, and the hotel +was inexpressibly dreary and uncomfortable. Greatly to Denasia's +astonishment, Roland was already dressed. All his hopes were fled. He +was despondent and strangely woe-begone and indifferent. He said he +had had a miserable dream. He did not think now it was right to go to +America; they would do nothing there. He wished they were at +Broadstairs; he had been a fool to mind the chatter of men who were +probably guying him; he wished Denas had not urged the plan; if she +had only stood firm, etc., etc., etc. + +Denasia looked at him with amazement and with some anger. She reminded +him that the American idea was entirely his own. She wondered what +stuff he was made of, to be so dashed and quailed by a dream. She said +that she also had had a bad dream. They had both eaten late; and as +for dreams, everyone knew they went by contraries. And as limp +spirits like to lean, Roland was soon glad to lean upon Denasia's +bravery. + +The few last weary hours in England went slowly by. Roland and Denasia +became at last impatient to be off; any place must certainly be better +than that dreary hotel and that storm-beaten town; the cab that took +them to the wharf was a relief, and the great steamer a palace of +comfort. They were not sick, and the storm was soon over. After they +lost sight of land the huge waves were flatted upon the main; the +weather was charming; the company made a fair show of being intensely +happy, and day after day went past in the monotonous pretension. +Nothing varied the life until the last night on board, when there was +to be a concert. Denasia had been asked to take a part in it, and she +had promised to sing a song. + +No one expected much from her. She had not been either officious or +effusive during the voyage, and "song by Mrs. Tresham" did not raise +any great expectations. As it was nearly the last item on the +programme, many had gone away before Roland took his place at the +piano and struck a few startling chords. Then Mrs. Tresham stepped +forward and became suddenly Mademoiselle Denasia. + + "Here beginneth the sea, + That ends not till the world ends," + +thrilled the great ship's cabins from end to end. The captain was +within the door before the first verse was finished. There was a crowd +at the doors; all the servants in the lower saloon had ceased work to +listen. Song after song was called for. Perhaps, indeed, Denasia had a +sweeter taste of her power that night than she had ever felt in halls +crowded with strangers who had paid a shilling to be amused by her. + +The listener most interested in this performance said the least at the +time; but he never took his eyes off the singer, and his private +decision was, "That young woman is a public singer. Her voice has not +been trained for parlours; she has been used to fling its volume +through the larger space of halls or theatres. I must look after her." +He approached Roland the next day and spoke in guarded terms about +Mrs. Tresham's voice. Roland was easily induced to talk, and the +result was an offer which was really--if they had known it--the open +door to fortune. But it is the fatality of the unlucky to have the +spirit of recklessness in their veins and the weakness of prudence in +their hearts. Instead of letting events guide them, they have the +presumption to think they can guide events. Roland received the offer +coolly, and said he would consult Mrs. Tresham on the matter. But, +instead of consulting with his wife, he dictated to her after the +fashion of the suspicious: + +"This man is the manager of a company, I think. He is very anxious for +you to sign an agreement. His offer appears to be good, but we know +nothing of affairs in New York; it may be a very poor offer. If you +have made such an impression on him, you may make a much more +pronounced one on others. We will not think of this proposal at all, +except as the straw which shows us what a great wind is going to +blow." + +Denasia was extremely opposed to this view. She quoted the old proverb +of "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." She said it would be +a sure living during the time they were learning the new country and +its opportunities. She begged Roland to let her accept the offer. When +he refused, she said that they would live to regret the folly. + +The manager thought so also. "For you must understand," he said to +Roland, "that I was desirous to engage Mrs. Tresham, not for what she +is--which is ordinary--but for the possible extraordinary I see in her +if she could have the proper advantages and influences." With the +words he bowed a little sarcastically to Mrs. Tresham's husband, and +afterward spoke no more to him. And then there came to the foolish +young man that sudden chill and foreboding which a despised +opportunity leaves behind it. + +But whether we do wisely or foolishly, the business of life must be +carried on. They were at the point of landing, and for some days the +strange experiences of their new life occupied every moment and every +feeling. Then came a long spell of hot weather, such heat as Denasia +had never dreamed of. Roland, who had been in Southern Europe, could +endure it better; as for Denasia, she lay prostrate with but one idea +in her heart--the cool coverts of the Cornish undercliff and the +trinkling springs where the blue-bells and the forget-me-nots grew so +thickly. + +Yet it was necessary that something should be done, and through the +blazing heat, day after day, the poor girl was dragged to agencies and +managers. But she found no one to make her such an offer as the one so +foolishly declined. And the time wore on, and the money in their purse +grew less and less, and a kind of desperation made both silent and +irritable. Finally an engagement to go "on the road" was secured, and +Roland affected to be delighted with it. "We shall see the whole +country," he said, "and we can keep our eyes open for something +better." + +Denasia sighed. Disappointment and a sense of wrong and grievous +mistake filled her heart and sat upon her face. She submitted as to an +irreparable injury, and left New York without the least enthusiasm. +"Good fortune knocked at our door," she said, "and we had not +intelligence enough to let him in." This was all the reproach she +gave her husband, and as she said "we" he accepted her generous +self-accusation, and finally convinced himself that it was entirely +Denasia's fault that the offer was refused. "But then I do not +blame you, Denasia," he remarked magnanimously; "you had every right +to consider yourself worthy of a larger salary." + +They left New York in September and went slowly West. Denasia had a +fine physique, but it was not a physique trained to the special labour +it had to endure: long days in hot railway cars; hurry and worry at +every performance; no seclusion, no time for study; no time to +acknowledge headache or weariness; a score of little humiliations and +wrongs; a constant irritability at Roland's apparent indifference to +her wretchedness and apparent satisfaction with the company and life +into which he was thrown. The men, indeed, all seemed satisfied. They +had cigars to smoke, and they told stories and played cards, and so +beguiled the weary hours of travel. The women were headachy and tired; +they soon threw aside their paper novels and confidential talks. Some +of the very young ones--pretty, wilful, inexperienced girls, not yet +disillusioned, not yet weary--added flirtation to their amusements. It +pained Denasia to see Roland a willing aid to their foolish pastime. +She had no fear that her husband would wrong her, but the pretence +pained and humbled her. + +It was a wearisome seven months, a nightmare kind of life, unrelieved +by even a phantom show of success. Men in the Sierras, out on the +great Western plains, knew not the sea. They could not be roused to +enthusiasm. Fisher-folk and fisher-life were outside their sympathies. +They preferred a comic song--a song that hit a famous person, or a +political principle, or a Western foible. Miners liked to hear about +"Leadville Jim." It touched their sensibilities when the "Three +Fishers who Went Sailing out into the West" made no picture in their +minds. Without being a failure, Denasia could not be said to be a +success. She was out of her place, and consequently out of sympathy +with all that touched her life. + +Coming back eastward, while they were at Denver Denasia was stricken +with typhoid fever. It was the result of months of unsatisfactory, +unhappy labour, of worry and fret and disappointment. Nostalgia also +of the worst kind had attacked her. She shut her eyes against the +great mountains and endless plains. She wanted the sea. She wanted her +home. Above all, she wanted to hide herself in her mother's breast. +Roland had been frequently unkind to her lately. She had been utterly +unable to respond to his moods, so different from her own, and she had +been more and more pained by the silly attentions he bestowed on +others. + +At last she could endure it no longer. She had come to a point of +indifference. "Leave me and let me die." This was all she said +when Roland was at length forced to believe that her sickness was +not temper, or disappointment, or jealousy. The company were +compelled to leave her; Roland saw his favourites on the train and +then he returned to nurse his sick wife. He found her insensible, +and she remained so for many days. Doctors were called, and +Roland conscientiously remained by her side; but yet it was all +alone that she fought her battle with death. No one went with her +into the dark valley of his shadow. She was deaf to all human +voices; far beyond all human help or comfort. Through the long +nights Roland heard her moaning and muttering, but it was the voice +of one at an inconceivable distance--of one at the very shoal of +being. + +She came back from the strife weak as a baby. Her clear, shrill voice +was a whisper. She could not lift a finger. It was an exhausting +effort to open her eyes. A new-born child was in every respect more +alive and more self-helpful, for Denasia could not by look or +whisper make a complaint or a request. She was only not dead. The +convalescence from such a sickness was necessarily long and +tiresome. The fondest heart, the most unselfish nature must at +times have felt the strain too great to be borne. Roland changed +completely under it. His love for Denasia had always been dependent +upon accessories pleasant and profitable to himself, as, indeed, +his love for any human being would have been. While Denasia's +beauty and talent gave him _eclat_ and brought him money, he +admired Denasia; and while her personality made sweet his private and +enviable his public hours, he loved her. + +But a wife smitten by deathly sickness into breathing clay--a wife who +could give him no delight and make him no money--a wife who compelled +him to waste his days in darkness and solitude and unpleasant duties +and his money in medicines and doctor's fees--was not the kind of wife +he had given his heart and name to. It was evident to him that Denasia +had failed. "She has failed in everything I hoped from her," he said +to himself bitterly one day, as he sat beside the still, death-like +figure; "and there must be an end of this some way, Roland Tresham." + +Financial difficulties were quickly upon him, and though he had +written to Elizabeth a most pitiful description of his position, a +whole month had passed and there was no letter to answer his appeal. +He had momentary impulses to run away from a situation so painful and +so nearly beyond his control. But it was fortunately much easier for +Roland to be a scoundrel in intent than in reality. His selfish +instincts had some nobler ones to combat, and as yet the nobler ones +had kept the man within the pale of human affections. There had been +one hour when the temptation was very nearly too much for him; and +that very hour there came to him two hundred dollars from Elizabeth. +It turned him back. Ah, how many a time two hundred dollars would +prevent a tragedy! How many a time financial salvation means also +moral salvation! + +It was midsummer before Denasia was strong enough to return to New +York, though she was passionately anxious to do so. "We are so far out +of the right way," she pleaded. "So far! In New York we are nearer +home. In New York I shall get well." + +And by this time Roland had fully realised how unfit he was for the +vivid, rapid life of the West. The cultivated, gentlemanly drawl of +his speech was of itself an offence; his slow, unruffled movements and +attitudes, his "ancient" ways of thinking, his conservatism and +gentility and ultra-superficial refinement were the very qualities not +valued and not needed in a community full of new life, ardent, +impulsive, rapid, looking forward, and determined not to look +backward. + +So with hopes much dashed and hearts much dismayed they re-entered +New York. The question of the future was a serious one. They were +nearly dollarless again, and even Roland felt that Elizabeth could +not be appealed to for some months at least. Denasia was facing the +sorrowful hopes of motherhood. For three or four months she could not +sing. They restricted themselves to a small back room in a Second +Avenue boarding-house, and Roland searched the agencies and the +papers daily for something suitable to his peculiar characteristics +and capabilities, and found nothing. There was a great city full of +people, but not one of them wanting the services of a young +gentleman like Roland. + +As for Denasia, she was still very weak. July and August tried her +severely. Some few little garments had to be made, and this pitiful +sewing was all she could manage. She did not lose her courage, +however, and if anything touched Roland's best feelings at this time, +it was her unfailing hope, her smiling welcome no matter how +frequently he brought disappointment, her brave assurances that she +would be quite well before the winter season, and then all would be +put right. + +In the last days of August the baby was born. Denasia recovered +rapidly, but the little lad was a sickly, puny child. He had been +wasted by fever, and fretted by anxious cares and by many fears, even +before they were his birthright. All the more he appealed to his +mother's love, and Denasia began now to comprehend something of the +sin against mother-love which she herself had committed. + +Perhaps she permitted her joy in her child to dominate her life too +visibly; at any rate it soon began to annoy her husband. He had been +so accustomed to all of Denasia's time and attention that he could not +endure to be put off until baby was asleep, or until some trifling +want of baby's had been attended to. He fancied that her attention was +divided; that even when she appeared to be listening to his complaints +or his intentions, her heart was with the child and her ears listening +for its crying. The transient pleasure he had experienced in the +little one's birth soon passed away, and an abiding sense of petty +jealousy and wrong took its place. + +"You are for ever nursing that crying little creature, Denasia," he +said one day when he returned to their small, warm room in a fever of +annoyance at some unappreciative manager. "No one can get your +attention for five minutes. You hear nothing I say. You take no +interest in anything I do. And the little torment is for ever and for +ever crying." + +"Baby is sick, Roland. And who is there to care for him but me?" + +"We ought to be doing something. Winter is coming on. Companies are +already on the road; you will find it hard to get a position of any +kind, soon." + +"I will go out to-morrow. I am strong enough now, I think." + +"I can find nothing suitable. People seem to take an instant dislike +to me." + +"That is nonsense! You were always a favourite." + +"I have had to sell most of my jewelry in order to provide for your +sickness, Denasia. Of course I was glad to do it, you know that, +but----" + +"But it is my duty now, Roland. I will begin to-morrow." + +So the next day Denasia went to the agencies, and Roland promised to +take care of baby. A two weeks of exhausting waiting and seeking, of +delayed hope and destroyed hope, followed; and Denasia was forced to +admit that she had made no impression on the managerial mind. No one +had heard of her singing and dancing, and those who condescended to +listen were not enthusiastic. + +"You see," said one of the kindest of these caterers for the public's +pleasure--"you see, New Yorkers have no ideas about fisher men and +women. If their fish is fresh, that is all that troubles them. If they +think about the men who catch it, they very likely think of them as +living comfortably in flats with all the modern improvements. A good +topical song, a spirited dance--they are the things that fetch." + +In different forms this was the general verdict, and every day she +found it harder and harder to return home and meet Roland's eager face +as she opened the door. Pretty soon the anxiety became tinctured with +complaint and unreasonable ill-temper, and with all the domestic +miseries which accompany resentful poverty. + +The poor little baby in Roland's opinion was to blame for every +disappointment. Its arrival had belated Denasia's application, or if +he wanted to be particularly irritating, he accused Denasia of being +in such a hurry to return to her child that she did not attend to her +most necessary duties. So instead of being a loving tie between them, +the poor wailing little morsel of humanity separated very love, while +Roland's complaints of it soon really produced in his heart the +impatient dislike which at first he only pretended. + +He grumbled when left in charge of the cradle. As soon as Denasia was +out of sight he frequently deserted his duty, and the disputes that +followed hardened his heart continually against the cause of them. And +when it came to naming the child, he averred that it was a matter of +no importance to him, only he would not have it called Roland. "There +had been," he said, "one too many of the Treshams called Roland. The +name was unlucky; and besides, the child did not resemble his family. +It looked just like the St. Penfer fisher children." + +Denasia coloured furiously, but she answered with the moderation of +accepted punishment, "Very well, then! I will call him 'John' after my +father. I hope he may be as good a man." + +Matters went on in this unhappy fashion until the end of October--nay, +they continually grew worse, for poverty deepened and hope lessened. +Denasia had lost the freshness of her beauty, and she was too simple +and ignorant to make art replace nature. Indeed, it is doubtful +whether any persuasion could have made her imitate the "painted +Jezebel" who had always been one of the most pointed examples of her +religious education. In her first experience of public life her +radiant health and colouring shamed all meaner aids and had been amply +sufficient for the brightest lights and the longest hours. But that +fierce ordeal of acclimating under conditions of constant travel and +hard work had drained even the magnificent vitality that had been her +heritage from generations of seamen, and typhoid and unhappy maternity +had robbed her of much of her almost defiant youth, with its +indomitable spirit and invincible hope. + +She had become by the close of October pale, fragile-looking, and +woefully depressed. Roland no longer found her always smiling and +hoping, and he called the change bad temper when he ought to have +called it hunger. Not indeed hunger in its baldest form for mere +bread, but hunger just as killing--hunger for the nourishing delicate +food and proper tonics that were just as necessary as bread; hunger +for hope, for work, and, above all, hunger for affection. + +For Roland had begun privately--yea, and sometimes openly--to call +himself a fool. And the devil, who never chooses a wrong hour, sent +him at this time an important letter from Elizabeth. In it she told +him that Mr. Burrell had died suddenly from apoplexy, and that she had +resolved to sell Burrell Court and make her residence in London and +Lucerne. She deplored his absence, and said how much she had needed +some one of her own family in the removal from Cornwall and in the +settlement of her husband's estate; and she sent her brother a much +smaller sum of money than she had ever sent before. + +When Roland had finished reading this epistle he looked at Denasia. +She was walking about the room trying to soothe and quiet the child. +It was very ill, and she had not dared to speak about a doctor. +Therefore she was feeling hurt and sorrowful, and when Roland said, +"Elizabeth's husband is dead," she did not answer him. + +"I said that Elizabeth's husband is dead," he angrily reiterated. + +"Very well. I am not sorry. I should think the poor man would be glad +to escape from her." + +"You are speaking of my sister, Denasia--of my sister, who is a +lady." + +"I care nothing about her. She could always take good care of herself. +I am heart-broken for my child, who is ill and suffering, and I can do +nothing for his relief--no, not even get a doctor." + +Words still more bitter followed. Roland dressed himself and went out. +He was not in a mood to do business or to look for business; indeed, +there was no need that he should trouble himself for one day when he +had Elizabeth's order in his pocket. He turned it into cash, bought +the daily newspapers, and, the morning being exquisite, he took the +cars to Central Park. But it was not until he was comfortably seated +in the most retired arbour that he permitted himself to think. + +Then he frankly said over and over: "What a fool I have been! Here am +I at thirty-three years of age tied to a plain-looking fisher-girl and +her cross, sickly baby. All I hoped for in her has proved a deception. +Her beauty has not stood the test of climate. Motherhood, that +improves and perfects most women, has personally wrecked her. Her +voice is now commonplace. Her songs are become tiresome. She has grown +fretful, and all her brightness and hopefulness have vanished. I do +not know how to make a living. I may as well admit that my dramatic +views are a failure--that is, they are in advance of the times. I can +do nothing for myself. But if I had not been married, what a jolly +time I might now be having with Elizabeth! London, Paris, Switzerland, +and no care or trouble of any kind. Oh, what a fool I have been! How +terribly I have been deceived!" + +He did not take into consideration Denasia's disappointment. He had no +doubt Denasia was telling all her own sorrows to herself and weeping +over them and her miserable little baby. After a while he lit a fresh +cigar and opened the newspapers. For an hour or two he let his +thoughts drift as they led him, and then, as he was folding up one, +the following notice met his vision: + +"Wanted, a private secretary. A young man who has had a classical +education preferred. Call upon Mr. Edward Lanhearne, 9 Fifth Avenue." + +The name struck Roland. He had heard it before. It had a happy memory, +an air of prosperity about it. Lanhearne! It was a Cornish name! That +circumstance gave him the clew. When he was a boy at Eton, he +remembered a Mr. Lanhearne who stayed with his father. "By Jove!" he +cried, starting to his feet, "he was an American. What a piece of luck +it would be if it should be the same man!" He fixed the address in his +mind and went to it immediately. + +The house pleased him. It was a large dwelling fronting on the avenue. +A handsome carriage was just leaving the door, and in the carriage was +a very lovely young woman. The entrance, the reception parlour, the +servant who admitted him, all the apparent accessories of the house +and household indicated wealth and refinement. What a heaven in +comparison with that back room on Second Avenue! For the first time in +many a month Roland had a sense of success in what he was going to do, +and the feeling gave him a portion of the elements necessary to +success. + +Mr. Lanhearne received him at once. He was a kindly looking old +gentleman, with fine manners and an intelligent face. + +"Mr. Tresham," he said, "I was attracted by your name. I once had a +friend--a very pleasant friend indeed, called Tresham." + +"Did he live in London, sir?" + +"He did." + +"He was Lord Mayor in the year 18--?" + +"He was. Did you know him?" + +"I am his son. I remember you very well. You went with me and my +father to buy my first pony." + +"I did indeed. Mr. Tresham, sit down, sir. You are very welcome. I am +grateful for your visit. And how is my old acquaintance? I have not +heard of him for many years. We are both Cornishmen, and you know the +Cornish motto is 'One and all.'" + +"My father is dead. He had great financial misfortunes. He did not +survive them long. I came to America hoping to find a better +opening, but nothing has gone well with me. This morning I saw +your advertisement. I think I can do all you require, and I shall be +very glad indeed of the position." + +"How long have you been in America, Mr. Tresham?" + +"More than a year. I went West at once, spent my money, and failed in +every effort." + +"To be sure. The West is for physical and financial energies. I think +if a young man is to rely on his mental qualities he had better remain +East. I am glad you have called upon me. The duties I wish attended to +are very simple. You will have to read my mail every morning and +answer it as I verbally direct. With the help of printed plates you +will arrange my coins and seals and such matters. I wish you also to +read the newspapers to me. In a day or two you will find out which +articles to read and which to omit. I want a companion for my drives. +I want some one to chat with me on my various hobbies--a young man, +because young men have such positive opinions, and therefore we shall +be likely to come to pleasant disputing. You will have a handsome +room, a seat at my table, a place among my guests, and one hundred +dollars a month." + +"I am very grateful to you, sir." + +"And I am very grateful to the kind fate which sent you to me. I owe +your father for many a delightful day. I am glad to pay my debt to his +son. When can you come here?" + +"This afternoon, sir." + +"I like that. We dine at seven. I will expect you to dinner. Do +you--ahem!--excuse me, Mr. Tresham, perhaps you may require a little +money in advance. I shall be pleased to accommodate you." + +"You offer is gracious and considerate, sir. I am glad you made it, +although I do not fortunately need to accept it." + +They clasped hands and parted with smiles. Mr. Lanhearne was quite +excited over the adventure. He longed for his daughter to come home, +that he might tell her what a romantic answer had come to his prosaic +advertisement. And Roland was still more excited. The air of the +house, its peace, refinement, and luxury appealed irresistibly to him. +It was his native air. He wondered how he had endured the vulgarity +and penury of his surroundings for so long; how indeed he had borne +with Denasia's shortcomings at all. That refined old gentleman, that +quiet, elegant woman whom he had had a glimpse of--these people were +like himself, of his own order--he would never weary of them. The +class he had voluntarily chosen, the people with whom poverty had +compelled him to consort, they affected him now as the memory of a +debauch affects a man when it is over. + +"I had no business out of my proper sphere," he said sadly. "Elizabeth +was right--right even about Denasia." + +He sat down in Union Square to consider his position, and he came to a +very rapid and positive conclusion. He declared to himself: "I will no +longer waste my life. Denasia and I have made a great mistake. +Together, we shall be poor and miserable. Apart, we shall be happy. I +no longer love her. I do not believe she loves me. All the love she +can spare from her blustering father and mother she wastes on that +miserable sickly babe, who would be a thousand times better dead than +alive. If I leave her she will go back to St. Penfer. I have a hundred +dollars; I will give her fifty of them. She can pay a steerage passage +out of it or go in a sailing-vessel, or if she does not like that way +she has things she can sell. If I give her half of what I have I do +very well indeed." + +He went rapidly to his home, or room. He knew that Denasia had an +engagement to keep, and he hoped that he might be fortunate enough to +find her out. It was as he wished: Denasia had gone out and the +landlady was sitting beside the baby's cradle. Roland dismissed her +with that manner all women declared to be charming, and then he sat +down and wrote a letter to his wife. It did not occupy him ten +minutes. Some of his clothing was yet very good and fashionable; he +packed it in the leather trap which had gone with him to college, and +then he sent a little girl for a cab. Without word and without +observation he drove away from the scene of so much vexation and +disappointment. + +The whole life and vicinity had suddenly become horrible to +him--Denasia, his child, the shabby landlady, the shabby house, the +dirty little grocery at the corner where he had bought his cigars and +their small household supplies, the meals cooked there and eaten +there, Denasia's attempts at housekeeping--the whole series of +memories made him wince and shiver with shame and annoyance. "Thank +God it is over!" he said fervently. And he never once thought what an +insult he was offering to eternal mercy and justice, in supposing God +had anything whatever to do with his flagrant desertion of duty, his +shameful abrogation of all the consequences of his own wilful +selfishness, and his cruel farewell to the wife and son he was bound +to nourish and cherish and defend. + +He thought of none of these things. He thought only of the comfort and +elegance; the peace, the delicate living, the delicate clothing, the +congenial companionship he was going to. He was determined to have a +luxurious bath, to be shaved and perfumed, to leave behind him the +very dust of his past life. He resolved not to allow himself to +remember Denasia. She was to be as if she never had been. He would +blot out of his memory all the years she had brightened and darkened. +And if any excuse can be found for him, it must be in his supposition +that Denasia felt just as he did. She would be grateful to him for +taking the initiative--glad to get back to her home and her people, +glad to escape a life for which she must have discovered she had +neither strength nor vocation. + +So he thought, in spite of his resolve not to think. But a man must be +even more selfish and reckless than Roland was to take years of his +past life and plunge them into oblivion as he would plunge a stone +into mid-ocean. In spite of the novelty of his situation, of his +delight with his quiet, handsome room, the thought of Denasia would +enter where it was forbidden to enter, and he could not help wondering +how she would receive his letter, and what steps she would take in +consequence of it. + +Denasia came home weary and disappointed. She had had a long, silent +wait for the person she expected to see, and finally been compelled to +accept the fact that he was not coming into town. She was heart-sick, +and the paltry loss of the car fare was an addition to her anxiety. +That the room was empty and the baby crying did not in any way +astonish her. She understood from it that Roland had come home and +dismissed the landlady, and then wearied of his watch and gone out +again, leaving the child to sleep or to weep as it felt inclined to +do. Her first action was to lift it from its bed, nurse and comfort +it, and rock it to sleep on her breast. + +Then her eyes wandered from her child to a letter lying on the table. +The circumstance roused no interest in her mind. She knew from its +general appearance that it had been put there by Roland, and it was by +no means the first time he had left the child with a letter containing +some excuse which he thought valid enough to satisfy Denasia. She +looked at it with a little contempt. She expected to find it assert +that some one had called for him or had sent him a message involving a +possible engagement, and she knew the whole affair would resolve +itself into some plausible story, which she would either have to +accept or else deny, with the certain addition of a coolness or a +quarrel. + +So the letter lay until she had put off and away her street costume. +Then she took it in her hand and sat down by the open window to read +the contents. They were short and very much to the point: + + "DENASIA, MY DEAR:--You have ceased to love me and I have ceased + to love you. You are miserable and I am miserable. We have made a + great mistake, and we must do all we can to correct it. When you + read this I shall be on my way to England. I advise you to go back + to your parents for a year. You may in that time recover your + beauty and your voice. It may be well then to go to Italy and give + yourself an opportunity to obtain the education I see now you + ought to have had at the first. But until that is practicable we + are better apart. You will find fifty dollars in the white gloves + lying on the dressing-case. I advise you to take a sailing-vessel; + a long voyage will do you good and will be much cheaper. It is + what I have done. Farewell. + + "ROLAND." + +She read every word and then glanced at the cradle. The child moved. +With the letter in her hand she soothed it and then sat down again. +She was overwhelmed with the shameful wrong. But to cry out and wring +her hands and call in the neighbours to see and hear what things she +suffered was not her way. Often she had seen her mother sitting +speechless and motionless for hours while her father hung between life +and death; it was natural for Denasia to take unavoidable sorrow with +the same dumb patience. + +Then she began to analyse the specious sentences and to deny the +things asserted. "I have not ceased to love. Every hour of the day my +life has been a witness to my love. I never said I was miserable. +Nothing had power to make me quite miserable if Roland was kind to me. +He is on his way to England. Of course he has gone to his sister. What +did her sweet complaints and regrets at not having his help and +company mean but 'Come to me, Roland'? She has lost her own husband +and now she must have mine. She has always been my evil angel. When +she was kindest to me it was only a different way of serving herself. +My soul warned me; my father warned me. She is one of those human +vampires who suck love, luck, life itself from all near them, and who +slay, and rob, and smile, and caress while they do it. And I am to go +home for a year and get back my beauty and my voice. I am sorry I ever +was beautiful. If I can help it I will never sing another song. Go +home and shame my good father and mother for his sake? Go home and be +lectured and advised and reproved by every woman in the village? Go +home a deserted wife, a failure in everything? No; I will not go home. +Nor will I go to Italy. I have had more than enough of singing for my +living and his living, too. I will sew, I will wash, I will go to +service, I will do anything with my hands I can do; but I will not +sing. And I will bring up my boy to work at real work, if it is but to +make a horseshoe out of a lump of iron! God! what a foolish woman I +have been! What a silly, vain, loving woman! My heart will break! My +heart will break! Alone, alone! Sick, helpless, ignorant, alone!" + +She closed her eyes and hid her face, and in that darkness gathered +together her soul-strength. But she shed no tears. Pale as death, weak +and trembling with suppressed emotion, she went softly about the +little room putting things in order--doing she scarcely knew what, yet +feeling the necessity to be doing something. Thus she came across the +white gloves, and she feared to look in them. Her knowledge of Roland +led her to think he would not leave fifty dollars behind him. He would +take the credit of the gift and leave her to suppose herself robbed by +some intruder or visitor. + +So she looked suspiciously at the bit of white kid and undid it +without hope. The money was there. After all, Roland had some pity for +her. The sight of the bills subdued her proud restraint. One great +pressure was lifted. No one could now interfere if she sent for a +doctor for her sick baby. She could at least buy it the medicine that +would ease its sufferings. And so far out was the tide of her +happiness that from this reflection alone she drew a kind of +consolation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +DEATH IS DAWN. + + "In the pettiest character there are unfathomable depths." + + "Only one Judge is just, for only one + Knoweth the hearts of men." + + Sayeth the book: "There passeth no man's soul + Except by God's permission, and the speech + Writ in the scroll determining the whole, + The times of all men, and the times for each." + --KORAN, 3d CHAP. + + +The Lanhearnes by an old-fashioned standard were a very wealthy +family. They were also a large family, though the sons had been +scattered by their business exigencies and the eldest daughters by +marriage. Only Ada, the youngest child of the house, remained with her +father; for the mother had been dead many years, and the preservation +of the idea of home was felt by all the Lanhearne children to be in +Ada's hands. If she married and went away, who then would keep open +the dear old house and give a bright welcome to their yearly visits? + +Ada, however, was not inclined to marriage. She was a grave, quiet +woman of twenty-two years of age, whose instincts were decidedly +spiritual and whose hopes and pleasures had little to do with this +world. She was interested in all church duties and in all charitable +enterprises. Mission schools and chapels filled her heart, and she +paid out of her private purse a good-hearted little missionary to find +out for her cases of deserving poverty which it was her delight to +relieve. + +Roland had never before come in contact with such a woman, and at a +distance he gave her a kind of adoration. Young, beautiful, rich, and +yet keeping herself unspotted from the world or going into it only to +relieve suffering, to dry the tears of childhood, and strengthen the +failing hearts of unhappy women. Once while walking with Mr. Lanhearne +the old gentleman said: "This is Ada's church. As the door is open let +us enter and wait for prayers." So out of the rush and crush of +Broadway the old and the young man turned into the peace of the +temple. And as they entered Ada rose up from before the altar, and +with a pale, rapt face glided into the solitude of her own pew. +Neither spoke of the circumstance, but on Roland's mind it made a deep +impression. At that hour he realised how beautiful a thing is true +religion and how holy a thing is a woman pure of heart, calmly radiant +from the very presence of God. + +In spite of the unhappy memories of the past, in spite of the worrying +thoughts which would intrude concerning Denasia, he was not at this +time very happy. Certainly not happy enough to contemplate a long +continuance of the life he was leading, but well satisfied to pass the +winter in its refined and easy seclusion. He knew that Elizabeth would +be in London until June, and he resolved to remain in New York until +she left for Switzerland. He would then join her at Paris and spend +the summer and autumn in her company; beyond that he did not much +trouble himself. + +He had, indeed, a vague dream of then quietly visiting Denasia and +determining whether it would be worth while to educate her for grand +opera. For the idea had taken such deep root in his mind that he could +not teach himself to regard the future without it, and now that +Elizabeth had full control of her riches, he did not contemplate any +difficulty about money matters. He still believed in Denasia's voice, +and he had seen that her dramatic talents were above the average; so +even in the charmed atmosphere of the Lanhearne home, he could still +think with pleasure of being the husband of a famous prima donna. + +He was sure that Denasia had returned to St. Penfer. He knew that ever +since they came to America she had written at intervals to her +parents, and though it was indeed a labour of love for either John or +Joan to write a letter, Denasia had had several communications from +them. Evidently, then, she had been forgiven, and he had no doubt that +for the sake of her child she hurried homeward as soon as it was +possible for her to secure a passage. + +Still he allowed three weeks to pass ere he made any inquiries. During +those three weeks his own life had settled into very easy and pleasant +ways. He breakfasted alone or with Mr. Lanhearne. Then he read the +morning papers aloud and attended to the mail. If the weather were +favourable, this duty was followed by a stroll or drive in the park. +Afterward he was very much at leisure until dinner-time, and at nine +o'clock Mr. Lanhearne's retirement to his own room gave him those +evening hours which most young men consider the desirable ones. Roland +generally went to some theatre or musical entertainment. There was +always the vague expectation of seeing and hearing Denasia, and he +scarcely knew whether his disappointment was a pleasure or an +annoyance. + +At the end of the third week he ventured to the Second Avenue house. +The room they had occupied was dark. He watched it until midnight. If +Denasia had been singing anywhere, she would certainly have returned +to her child before that hour. The next night he sent a messenger to +inquire for her address, and the boy said, "It was not known. Mrs. +Tresham had left two weeks before. She had spoken of England, but it +was not positively known that she had gone there." + +"She is likely in St. Penfer by this time," mentally commented Roland, +and the thought gave him comfort. He did want Denasia and the baby to +be taken care of, and he knew they would want no necessary thing in +John Penelles' cottage. But it was this very certainty of Denasia's +return to England which really detained Roland in America. He had no +desire to meet John Penelles until time had healed the wound he had +given John's daughter. John would be sure to seek him out in London, +and there might be no end of trouble; but John would not come to +America, nor would he be likely in the summer season to leave the +fishing and seek him either in Paris or Switzerland. As for Elizabeth, +she knew from her brother's letters that he had deceived and left his +wife, and she had, of course, thought it proper to offer a feeble +remonstrance, but Roland knew right well she would never betray his +hiding-place. + +So Roland lived on week after week in luxurious thoughtlessness. Mr. +Lanhearne grew very fond of him, and Ada, in spite of her numerous +objects of charitable interest, found it singularly pleasant to +discuss with so handsome and intelligent a companion religious topics +on which their opinions were widely apart. Indeed, she honestly +accepted the evident duty of leading him back to the safe and narrow +road of creditable dogmas. And with such a fair, earnest teacher it +was easy, it was natural for Roland to affect an interest in the +subject he did not really feel. + +Dangerous ground for both, but especially so for the lovely young +woman whose sincerity and singleness of purpose led her to believe +that a very natural and womanly instinct was the prompting of a +spiritual concern for an immortal soul wandering from the right path. +Roland as a hypocrite, affecting a piety he despised, would not have +been either so captivating or so dangerous as Roland honestly ignorant +and doubtful, yet willing to be taught and convinced. + +Dangerous ground for both, for both constantly assured themselves +there was no danger. Ada Lanhearne was not a woman that any man could +approach with laughter or half-concealed flirtation. And Roland had +no desire to overstep the boundary her noble presence inspired. Also, +Denasia held him by the mysterious strength of the marriage tie. Apart +from her and relieved of the petty cares which degraded their love, he +forgot her shortcomings and thought more and more frequently of her +affectionate, forgiving heart. The radiance of her youthful beauty was +still in his memory, and the haunting charm of her voice called him at +all kinds of incongruous hours. He awoke at night with the silvery cry +of "Caller Herrin'" in his ears. At the dinner-table he heard her +light musical laugh ring through the decorous, quiet room, and often +when discussing an old Roman coin with Mr. Lanhearne he felt her hand +upon his shoulder, and feared to turn lest her face should confront +him. + +Ada's beaming eyes, and soft voice, and mystical rapture of holy +enthusiasm touched him on quite a different side of his nature. She +made him long to be good--he was almost afraid he would become good if +he dwelt too much in her presence. And he did not desire to be so--not +just yet. But as she talked so earnestly to him of righteousness, and +duty and the life to come, it was impossible that he should not in +some way respond. And when his handsome eyes were shadowed with +feeling and his gay face and manner subdued to the gravity of the +subject, it was equally impossible for the young teacher not to be +moved by the evidences of her own eloquent persuasion. + +After all, much must be left to the imagination; the situation was so +full of possibilities, so absolutely free of all wrong conditions, so +ready to yield itself to many wrong conditions. Roland's days went by +in a placid sameness, which did not become fretting, because he knew +he should end its pleasant monotony of his own free will in a very few +weeks. And Ada had never before been so happy. Why should she ask +herself the reason? To question fate is not a fortunate thing, at any +rate; she felt a reluctance to begin a catechism with her feelings or +her surroundings. + +So the Christmas came and went, and the days lengthened and the cold +strengthened, and there was so much misery among the poor that Ada's +time and money were taxed to their uttermost use and ability. And the +suffering she saw left its shadow on her fair face. She was quieter +because her thoughts were deep in her heart and did not therefore +readily resolve themselves into words. The mystery of the whole +creation suffering together oppressed and solemnized her life, for it +was no hearsay of cold, and hunger, and wretchedness that touched Ada. +She sat down on the cold hearths with broken-hearted wives and +mothers, and held upon her knees the little children ready to perish. +Money she gave to the uttermost, but with the money something +infinitely more precious--love, like that which made the Christ put +His hand upon the leper as well as heal him; womanly sympathy, which +listened patiently to tales of intolerable wrongs and to the moans of +extreme physical suffering. + +In her own home she seldom spoke of these experiences. Mr. Lanhearne +did not altogether approve of them. Like the centurion of old, he +thought it was sufficient to "speak the word only," that is, to give +the money necessary to relieve suffering. And he did not see why his +child's life should be shadowed by carrying the griefs of others. So +there was very seldom any talk on these matters, unless Ada required +assistance. Then she spoke with such clear sincerity and pathos that +her father felt it to be a privilege to be her right hand, and for the +time being was probably as enthusiastic as herself. But these were +rare occasions; Ada was too wise and considerate to stretch a generous +or a gentle emotion until it failed. + +One bitterly cold night in February Roland returned to Lanhearne House +in a particularly unhappy mood. He had been down-town as far as +Twenty-third Street, and had been subjected to all the depressing +influences of the cold, brown-stony city, swept by that most cruel of +winds--the east wind which comes with a thaw. The sullen poor, +standing desperate and scornful at the street corners, seemed to cast +a malevolent eye upon his handsome, well-clothed person. There had +been a terrible accident, followed by a fire, somewhere in the city, +and the raw, cutting air was full of its horror. As he passed a group +of men, a poor shivering creature said passionately, "Accident indeed! +All accidents are crimes!" The friction of the interests and wills +encompassing him evolved an atmosphere which he had no strength to +antagonise. He simply submitted to its worry and restlessness and +unhappy discontent, and so carried the spirit home with him. + +It was met on the threshold by influences that drove it back into the +desolate street. The warm, light house and the peace and luxury of his +own room soothed his mental sense of something wrong. And when he +descended to the parlour, he was instantly encompassed by soft warmth, +by firelight and gaslight, by all the visible signs and audible sounds +of sincere pleasure in his advent. Mr. Lanhearne had a new periodical +to discuss, and Ada, though unusually grave, lifted her still face +with the smile of welcome on it. + +She had, however, an evident anxiety, and Mr. Lanhearne probably +divined its origin, for after dinner was over he said: "Ada, I saw +your little missionary here, late. Is there anything very wrong?" + +"I was just going to tell you, father. Mr. Tresham may listen also, it +can do him no harm. Mrs. Dodge came to tell me of a most distressing +case. She was visiting an old patient in a large tenement, and the +woman told her to call at the room directly above her. As she went +away she did so. It was only four o'clock then, but in that place +quite dark. When she reached the door she heard a voice praying--heard +a voice thanking God amid sobs and tears--oh, father, what for? For +the death of her baby! Crying out in a passion of gratitude because it +was released from hunger and cold and suffering!" + +Mr. Lanhearne covered his face, and Roland looked at Ada with his +large eyes troubled and misty. The girl was speechless for a moment or +two, and Roland watched her sympathetic face and saw tears drop upon +her clasped hands. Then she resumed: "Mrs. Dodge entered softly. The +mother was sitting on a chair with her dead baby across her knees. +There was no fire, no candle in the room, but the light from an +oil-lamp in a near window fell upon the white faces of the mother and +her dead child. There is no need to tell you that Mrs. Dodge quickly +made a fire, cooked the poor famished creature a meal, and then +prepared the dead child for its burial. But she says the mother is +distracted because she cannot buy it a grave and a coffin. I have +promised to do that; you will help me, father? I know you will." + +"To be sure I will, Ada. To be sure, my dear one! I will help gladly. +Has the poor, sorrowful woman no husband to comfort her in this +extremity?" + +"She says he is dead. Her history is a little out of the common. She +is an English woman and was a public singer. The name she is known by +is Mademoiselle Denasia--but that, of course, is not her real name." + +A quick, sharp cry broke from Roland's lips. He was grey as +ashes. He trembled visibly and stood up, though his emotion +compelled him instantly to reseat himself. He was on the point of +losing consciousness. Mr. Lanhearne and Ada looked at him with +anxiety, and Mr. Lanhearne went to his side. + +"I am better," he said with a heavy sigh. "I knew--I knew this poor +woman! I told you I was once on the road with a company. She was in +it. Her husband was a brute--a mean, selfish, cowardly brute--he ought +to be dead. I should like to help her--to see her--what is the street? +the number? Excuse me--I was shocked!" + +"I see, Mr. Tresham," answered Ada, kindly. She had some ivory tablets +by her side, and she looked at them and said, "It is a very long +way--One Hundred and Seventieth Street--here is the address. I shall +be glad if you can do anything to help. I am sure she is worthy--she +has had good parents and been taught to pray." + +"My dear Ada," said Mr. Lanhearne, "sorrow forces men and women down +upon their knees; even dumb beasts in their extremity cry unto God, +and He heareth them. And as for being worthy of help--if worthiness +were the condition, which of us durst pray for consolation in the hour +of our trouble? God has a nobler scale. He sends his rain upon the +just and the unjust, and He never yet asked a suppliant, 'Whose son +art thou?'" + +Roland was grateful for this little discussion. It gave him a minute +or two in which to summon his soul to face the position. He was able +when Mr. Lanhearne ceased speaking to say: + +"Mademoiselle Denasia is a Cornish woman. She comes from a village not +far from where my father lived. I feel that I ought to stand by her in +her sorrow. I shall be glad to do anything Miss Lanhearne thinks it +right to do." + +The subject was then dropped, but Roland could take up no other +subject. With all his faults, he was still a creature full of warm +human impulses. There was nothing of the cold, calculating villain +about him. He was really shocked at the turn events had taken. Mr. +Lanhearne, who knew the world of men which Ada did not know, mentally +accused his handsome, sympathetic secretary of some knowledge of the +unfortunate singer which it would be best not to investigate; but Ada +thought his emotion to be entirely the outcome of an unusually tender +and affectionate nature. + +The incident affected the evening unhappily. Roland was not able +either to talk or read, and Mr. Lanhearne, out of pure sympathy for +the miserable young man, retired to his own apartment very early. This +was always the signal for Roland's dismissal, and five minutes after +it Mr. Lanhearne, looking from his window into the bleak, wind-swept +street, saw Roland rapidly descend the steps and then turn northward. + +"I was sure of it," he whispered. "There is more in this affair than +meets the ear, but I like the young man, and why should I rake among +the ashes of the past? Which of us would care for an investigation of +that kind?" Then he sat down before his fire and mentally followed +Roland to the bare loneliness of that poor home where death and the +mother sat together. + +For once Roland feared to call, "Denasia!" He hesitated at the foot of +the narrow stair and then went softly to the door. All within was +still as the grave, but a glimmer of pale light came from under the +ill-fitting door. He might be mistaken in the room, but he resolved +to try. He turned the handle and there was an instant movement. He +went forward and Denasia stood erect, facing him. She made no sound or +sign of either anger, or astonishment, or affection. All her being was +concentrated on the clay-cold image of humanity lying so strangely +still that it filled the whole place with its majesty of silence. + +He closed the door softly and said "Denasia! Oh, Denasia!" + +She did not answer him, but sinking on her knees by the child, began +to sob with a passionate grief that shook her frail form as a tree is +shaken by a tempest. + +"My dearest! My wife! Forgive me! Forgive me! I thought you were in +St. Penfer. As God lives, I believed you were with your mother. I +intended to come to you, I did, indeed! Denasia, speak to me. I will +never leave you again--never! We will go back to England together. I +will make you a home there. I will love and cherish you for ever! +Forgive me, dear! I am sorry! I am ashamed of myself! I hate myself! I +do not wonder you hate me also." + +"No, no! I do not hate you, Roland. I am lost in sorrow. I cannot +either love or hate." + +"Let me bear the sorrow with you, coward, villain that I am!" + +"You did not mean to be either. You were tired of misery--men do tire. +I would have tired, too, only for my baby. Oh, Roland! Roland! Roland! +my love, my husband!" + +Then--ah, then. No one can put into mere common words the great +mystery of forgiveness. It is not in words. Heart beat against heart, +eyes gazed into eyes, souls met upon clinging lips, and the sweet +compact of married love was renewed in the clasping of their +long-parted hands. They sat down together and spoke in soft, sad +voices of the great mistakes of the past. Until the midnight hour they +wept and talked together, and then Denasia said: + +"In a short time a poor woman who is nursing at the Gilsey House +will be here. She is on duty until twelve o'clock, but as soon as +she is released she promised to come and sit with me. So you must +leave me now, Roland. It is useless to explain to my neighbours our +relationship. They would look at you and me and think evilly. I would +not blame them if they did. When all is over I will come to you; +until then I will remain alone. It is best so." + +Nevertheless Roland lingered and pleaded, and when he finally +consented to her wish, he left all the money he had in her hands. She +looked at the bills with a sad despair. "All these!" she whispered, +"all these for a grave and a coffin! There was nothing at all to help +him to live." + +"Nothing could have saved him, Denasia. He was born under sentence of +death. He has been ill all his poor little life. My darling, believe +that it is well with him now." + +Yet her words and tears troubled him, and he bade her good-night, and +then returned so often that the woman Denasia had spoken of passed +him in the narrow entry, and he paused and watched her go to his +wife's room. Even then he did not hurry to his own home. He went down +the side street, and stood looking at the glimmering lamp in the +sorrowful place of death until he became painfully aware of the +terribly damp, cold wind searching out and chilling life, even to the +very marrow of the bones. Then he remembered that he had come out in +his dress boots, consequently his feet were wet and numb, and he had a +fierce pain under his shoulder. A sudden, uncontrollable fear went to +his heart like a death-doom. + +He had to walk a long way before he found any vehicle, and when, after +what seemed a never-ending period of torture, he reached his room, he +knew that he was seriously ill. But the house had settled for the +night; he had a reluctance to awaken the servants; he hoped the warmth +would give him ease; he was, in fact, quite unacquainted with the +terrible malady which had seized him. In the morning he did not +appear, and after a short delay Mr. Lanhearne sent him a message. + +Roland was, however, by this time in high fever and delirious. The +news caused a momentary hesitation and then a positive decision. The +hesitation was a natural one--"Should not the young man be sent to the +hospital?" The decision came from the cultivated humanity of a good +heart--"No. Roland was 'the stranger within the gates,' he was a +countryman, he was more than that, he was a Cornishman." In a few +moments Mr. Lanhearne had sent for his own physician and a trained +nurse, and he went himself to the side of the sick man until help +arrived. + +Toward night Roland became very restless, and with a distressing +effort constantly murmured the word "Denasia." Mr. Lanhearne thought +he understood the position exactly, and he had a very pardonable +hesitation in granting the half-made request. But the monotonous +imploring became full of anguish, and he finally took his daughter +into his councils and asked what ought to be done. + +"Denasia ought to be here," answered Ada. "I have her address. Let +Davis go for her." + +"But, my dear! you do not understand that she may--that she is, +perhaps, not what we should call a good woman." + +"Dear father, who among us all is good? Even Christ said, 'Why callest +thou Me good? There is none good save one, that is God.' We know +nothing wrong of her with certainty. Why not give her the benefit of +the doubt? Are we not compelled to be thus generous with all our +acquaintances?" + +So Denasia was sent for. She was sitting alone in her comfortless +room. The baby was gone away for ever. Thinking of the lonely darkness +of the cemetery, with the cold earth piled high above the little +coffin, she felt a kind of satisfaction in her own shivering solitude +and silence. She was as far as possible keeping with the little form a +dreary companionship. Yet she had been expecting Roland and was +greatly pained at his apparent neglect. + +When Davis knocked at the door she said drearily, "Come in." She +thought it was her husband at last. + +"Are you Mademoiselle Denasia?" inquired a strange voice. + +A quick sense of trouble came to her; she stood up and answered +"Yes." + +"There is a gentleman at our house, Mr. Tresham; he is very ill +indeed. He asks for you constantly. Mr. Lanhearne thinks you ought to +come to him at once." + +"I am ready." + +She spoke with a dreary patience and instantly put on her cloak and +hat. Not another word was said. She asked no questions. She had +reached that point where women arrest all their feelings and wait. The +splendid house, the light, the warmth, all the evidences of a +luxurious life about, moved her no more than if she was in a dream. A +great sorrow had put her far above these things. She followed the +servant who met her at the door without conscious volition. A woman +going to execution could hardly have felt more indifference to the +mere accidentals of the way of sorrow. And when a door was swung +softly open, she saw no one in the room but Roland. Roland helpless, +unconscious. Roland even then crying out "Denasia! Denasia!" + +The physician, Mr. Lanhearne, and his daughter stood by the fireside, +and when Denasia entered Ada went rapidly to her side. + +"We are glad you have come," she said kindly. "You see how ill Mr. +Tresham is. You are his countrywoman--his friend, I think?" + +"I--am--his--wife." + +She said the words with a pathetic pride, and Ada wondered why they +hurt her so terribly. Like four swords they pierced her heart and cut +away from it hope and happiness. She went back to her father's side, +and leaned her head on his shoulder, and felt like one holding despair +at bay. And oh, how grateful to her was the secret silence of the +night! Then she wept as a little child weeps who has lost its way. By +her anguish and her sense of loss for ever she was taught that Roland +had become nearer and dearer than she had ever suspected. And the +knowledge was a revelation of sorrow. Her delicate conscience shivered +in the shadow of a possible wrong and the bitterness of the +might-have-been she was to fight without ceasing. + +She felt no anger toward Denasia, however. Denasia was only the hidden +rock on which her frail, unknown love-bark had struck and gone down. +And she was constrained to admit that, so far as she herself was +concerned, Roland was innocent. She had, indeed, often felt hurt at +his restraint and want of response. In her pure, simple heart she had +called it pride, shyness, indifference; but she understood now that +this poor, weak soul had at least not lacked honour. + +So that there was in this apparently peaceful, comfortable home two +vital conflicts going on: the struggle of a noble soul to slay love, +the struggle of unpitying death to slay life. About the ninth day +Roland, though weak, had some favourable symptoms, and there were good +hopes of his recovery. He talked with Denasia at intervals, and +assured of her forgiveness and love, slept peacefully with his hand in +his wife's hand. + +A few days later, however, he appeared to be much depressed. His dark, +sunken eyes gazed wistfully at Mr. Lanhearne, and he asked to be alone +with him for a little while. "I am going to die," he said, with a face +full of vague, melancholy fear. The look was so childlike, so like +that of an infant soul afraid of some perilous path, that Mr. +Lanhearne could not avoid weeping, though he answered: + +"No, my dear Roland. The doctor says that the worst is over." + +Roland smiled with pleasure at the fatherly dropping of the formal +"Mr.," but he reiterated the assertion with a more decided manner. "I +am going to die. Will you see that my wife goes back to England to her +father and mother?" + +"I will. Is there anything else?" + +"No. She knows all that is to be done. Comfort her a little when I am +dead." + +"My dear Roland, we are going to Florida as soon as you are able." + +"I am going to a country much farther off. I will tell you how I know. +All my life long a figure formless, veiled, and like a shadow has come +to me at any crisis. When I was striving for honours at my college it +whispered, 'you will not succeed.' When I went to my first business +desk it brought me the same message. The night before I sailed for +America it stood at my bedside, and I heard the one word, 'failure.' +This afternoon it told me, 'you have come to the end of your life.' +Then my soul said, 'Oh, my enemy, who art thou?' And there grew out of +the dimness the likeness of a face." + +For a few moments there was a silence painful and profound. Roland +closed his eyes, and from under their lids stole two large tears--the +last he would ever shed. And Mr. Lanhearne was so awed and troubled he +could scarcely say: + +"A face! Whose face, then, Roland?" + +"My own! My own!" and he spoke with that patience of accepted doom +which, while it carries the warrant of death, has also death's +resignation and dignity. + +After this revelation there was a decided relapse, and after a few +more days of suffering, of hope, and despair had passed, the end came +peacefully from utter exhaustion. Mr. Lanhearne was present, but it +was into Denasia's eyes that Roland gazed until this sad earth was +lost to vision, and the dark, tearless orbs, once so full of light and +love, were fixed and dull for evermore. + +"It is all past! It is all over!" cried Denasia, "all over, all over! +Oh, Roland! Roland! My dear, dear love!" and Mr. Lanhearne led her +fainting with sorrow from the place of death. + +And in another room, in a little sanctuary of holy dreams and loving +purposes, Ada knelt in a transport of divine supplication, praying for +the dying, praying for the living, consecrating her own wounded heart +to the service of all women wearing for any reason the crown of +sorrow, or drinking of the cup of Gethsemane, or treading alone the +painful road which leads from Calvary to paradise. For herself asking +only with a sublime submission-- + + "Nearer, my God, to Thee; + E'en though it be a cross + That raiseth me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +SORROW BRINGS US ALL HOME. + + "Look in my face. My name is Might-have-been: + I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell." + + "Was _that_ the landmark? + + . . . . . . . . . . + + "But lo! the path is missed; I must go back + And thirst to drink when next I reach the spring + Which once I stained ... + Yet though no light be left, nor bird now sing + As here I turn, I'll thank God, hastening, + That the same goal is still on the same track." + --ROSETTI. + + +Roland Tresham was buried beside his son, and the friends and the +places that had known him knew him no more. There were only strangers +to lay him in the grave. His wife was too worn out with watching and +grief to leave her bed; his sister was far away. Mr. Lanhearne and two +or three gentlemen whose acquaintance Roland had made at the club of +which Mr. Lanhearne was a member paid the last pitiful rites, and then +left him alone for ever. + +Ada sat with the sorrowful widow. Her innocent heart was greatly +troubled lest her interest in Roland, though known only to herself, +had been an unintentional wrong. In every possible way she strove to +atone for Roland's happiness in her home and her own happiness in +Roland's presence. When she mentally contrasted these conditions with +the miserable conditions of the deserted wife and dying child, she +felt as if it would be impossible to balance the unkind and unmerited +difference. That she was not specially drawn to Denasia only forced +from her a more generous concern for the unhappy woman. And when death +or sorrow tears from life the mask of daily custom, then, without +regard to the accidents of birth, we behold ourselves, all alike sad +seekers among the shadows after light and peace. + +And undoubtedly sympathy is like mercy; it blesses those who give it +as well as those who receive. As Ada and Denas talked of the great +mysteries of life and death, their souls felt the thrill of +comradeship. Denas was usually reticent about her own life, yet she +opened her heart to Ada, and as the two women sat together the day +after the funeral, the poor widow spent many hours in excusing the +dead and in blaming herself. + +She spoke honestly of her vanity, of her desire to get the better of +Elizabeth by taking her brother from her, of the satisfaction she felt +in mortifying the pride of the Burrells and the Treshams--even of her +impatience and ill-temper with Roland because he was not able to +conquer the weaknesses which were as natural to him as the blood in +his body or the thought in his brain; because he could not alter the +adverse circumstances which, as soon as they touched American soil, +began to close around them. + +"And my great grief is this," she cried, wringing her long, wasted +hands: "he has died before his time and he has gone so far away that +he neither sees my repentance nor hears my words of remorseful +sorrow." + +"Would you desire the dead to see your sorrow, Mrs. Tresham?" said +Ada. "Sorrow is for the living, not for the dead." + +"Oh, it is not enough to be seen by the living! I want the dead to +know that I grieve! When I have wept on my mother's breast and knelt +at my father's feet, I shall still long for poor Roland to know that I +am sorry for the cross looks and cross words and all the petty +discomforts which drove him from me--drove him to death before his +time; that is the cruellest thing of all." + +Mr. Lanhearne entered the room as she spoke, and he sat down and +answered her: "To die before one's time, before one has seen and +heard, and enjoyed and suffered the full measure of life, may seem +hard, Mrs. Tresham, but there is something in this respect much +harder. I have just been with a man who has lived after his time. The +grave has swallowed up all his loves and all his joys, and he alone is +left of his family and friends. Over such lingering lives thick, dark +shadows fall, I can assure you. They have the loneliness of the grave +without its quiet sleep and its freedom from unkindness and suffering. +Let me advise you, as soon as you can bear the journey, to go to your +own people. It was your husband's desire." + +"I know it was, sir. I have fought hunger and sorrow and death like a +cat. But there is no need to continue the fight. I will go to the good +father and mother that God gave me. I will weep no more rebellious +tears. I will surrender myself and wait for His comfort. I am but a +poor, suffering woman, but I know the hand that has smitten me." + +And Ada bowed her head and repeated softly: + + "They are most high who humblest at God's knees + Lie loving God, and trusting though He smite." + +Then they spoke of the sea-journey, and Denas wished to go away as +soon as possible. "I shall get some money as soon as I arrive in +London," she said. "Lend me sufficient to pay my passage there." + +"You have no occasion to borrow money, Mrs. Tresham," said Mr. +Lanhearne. "There is a sum due your husband which will be quite +sufficient to meet all your expenses home. I will send a man to secure +you a good berth. Shall it be for Saturday next?" + +"I can go to-morrow very well." + +"No, you cannot go to-morrow, Mrs. Tresham," answered Ada. "You must +have proper clothing to travel in. If you will permit me, I will +attend to this matter for you at once." + +And though the proper clothing was a very prosaic comfort, it was a +tangible one to Denas. She was grateful to find herself clothed in +that modest, sombre decency which her condition claimed; to have all +the small proprieties of the season and the circumstances, all the +toilet necessities which are part of the expression of a refined +nature. For the poor lady who pitifully lamented the calamity which +had "reduced her to elegance" indicated no slight deprivation; +proper clothing for the occasions of life being both to men and +women one of those great decencies demanded by an austere and +suitable self-respect. + +Faithfully did this good father and daughter fulfil to the last tittle +the demands of their almost super-sensitive hearts and consciences, +and if they sighed with relief when the duty was over, the sigh only +proved the duty to have been beyond the line of self-satisfaction and +a real sacrifice to the claims of a common humanity. Mr. Lanhearne +then turned his thoughts gladly toward Florida. He felt that the +invasion of so much strange sorrow into his home had altered its +atmosphere, and that he was human enough to be a little weary in +well-doing. Ada was also glad to escape the precincts haunted by the +form and the voice which it pained her conscience to remember and +pained her heart to forget. So in a few more days the large brown +house was closed and dark, and "the tender grace of a day that was +dead" was gone for evermore. The land of sunshine was before them, and +many of their friends were already there to give them welcome; yet +Ada's soul kept repeating, with a ceaseless, uncontrollable monotony, +one sad lament-- + + "Ah, but alas! for the smile that never but one face wore! + Ah, for the voice that has flown away like a bird to an unknown + shore! + Ah, for the face--the flower of flowers--that blossoms on earth no + more!" + +She tried to hush this inner voice, to reason it into silence, to dull +its aching echo with song or speech or notes of loftier tones; but it +would not be quieted. And when she was left alone, when there was no +one near to comfort or strengthen, a great silence fell upon her. For +she indulged no stormy sorrow; her grief was a still rain that +fertilised and made fragrant her higher self. In her maiden heart she +had had a dream of being crowned with bride-flowers, and lo! it was +rue, and thyme gone to seed, and dead primroses that garlanded her +sad, unspoken love. But she wore them with a sweet, brave submission, +not affecting to disbelieve that time would surely heal love's aching +pain. For she knew that goodness was omnipotent to save and to +comfort. + +In the mean time, as the Lanhearnes sailed southward Denas sailed +eastward, and in less than a couple of weeks half the circumference of +the world was between the lives so strangely and sorrowfully brought +together. Denas landed in Liverpool early in the morning, and without +delay went to London. She had business with Elizabeth, and she felt +constrained and restless until it should be accomplished. She +hesitated about going to the house in which she had spent with Roland +so many happy and sorrowful days, but when she entered the cab the +direction to it sprang naturally from her lips. + +And there was already in her heart that tender fear that she might +forget, the fear that all who have loved and lost have trembled to +recognise, the fact that her sorrow might have an end, that she might +learn to dispense with what was once her life, that a little vulgar +existence with its stated meals and regular duties and petty pleasures +would ever fill the void in her love and life made by Roland's death. + +So she tried, in the very place of her sweet bride memories, to bring +back the first passion of her widowed grief. She tried to fill the +empty chair with Roland's familiar form and the silent space with his +happy voice. Alas! other thoughts would intrude; considerations about +Elizabeth's attitude, about her home, about her future. For she knew +that this part of her life was finished; that nothing could ever bring +back its conditions. They had been absolutely barren conditions. Her +duties as a wife and a mother were over. Her career as a singer was +over. No single claim of friendship or interest from its past bound +her. When she had seen Elizabeth these last years of her being and +doing would be a shut book. Nothing but her change of name and, +perhaps, a little money would remain to testify that Denas Penelles +had ever been Denasia Tresham. + +Do as she would, she could not keep these thoughts apart from her +memories of her lover and her husband. She arrested her mind +continually and bade herself remember the days of her gay bridal, or +else those two lonely graves far beyond the western sea; and then, ere +she was aware, her memories of the past had become speculations about +the future. And she was abashed by this arid, incurable egotism in +the most secret place of her soul. She felt it making itself known +continually in her hard determination to make the best of things; she +knew that it was this feeling which was determined to close the death +chamber, to deny all torturing memories; which said, in effect, "what +is finished is finished, and the dead are dead." + +But the conflict wearied her almost to insensibility. She was also +physically exhausted by travel, and the next day she slept profoundly +until nearly the noon hour. It had been her intention to see Elizabeth +in the morning, and she was provoked at her own remissness, for what +she feared in reality happened--Elizabeth was out driving when she +reached her residence. The porter thought it would be six o'clock ere +she could receive any visitor, "business or no business." + +Denas said she would call at six o'clock, and charged the man to tell +his mistress so. + +But the visit and the engagement passed from the servant's mind. In +fact, he had, as he claimed, a very genteel mind. Callers who came in +a common cab did not find an entry into it. Elizabeth returned in due +season from her drive, drank a cup of tea, and then made her evening +toilet. For Lord Sudleigh was to dine with her, and Lord Sudleigh was +the most important person in Elizabeth's life. It was her intention, +as soon as she had paid the last tittle of mint, anise, and cummin to +Mr. Burrell's memory, to become Lady Sudleigh. Everyone said it was a +most proper alliance, the proposed bride having money and beauty and +the bridegroom-elect birth, political influence, and quite as much +love as was necessary to such a matrimonial contract. + +Elizabeth, however, in spite of her pleasant prospect for the evening, +was in a bad temper. The bishop's wife had snubbed her in the drive, +and her dressmaker had disappointed her in a new costume. The March +wind also had reddened her face, and perhaps she had a premonition of +trouble, which she did not care to investigate. When informed that +there was a lady waiting to see her on important business, she simply +elected to let her wait until her toilet was finished. She had a +conviction that it was some officious patroness on a charity +mission--someone who wanted money for the good of other people. And as +there are times when we all feel the claims of charity to be an +unwarrantable imposition, so Elizabeth, blown-about, sun-browned, +snubbed, disappointed, and anxious about her lover, was not, on this +particular occasion, more to blame for want of courtesy than many +others have been. + +Finally she descended to the drawing-room and was ready to receive her +visitor. There was a very large mirror in the room, and pending her +entrance Elizabeth stood before it noticing the set and flow of her +black lace dress, its heliotrope ribbons, and the sparkle of the +hidden jets upon the bodice. Some heliotrope blossoms were in her +breast, and her hands were covered with gloves of the same delicate +colour. Denas saw her thus; saw her reflection in the glass before she +turned to confront her. + +For a moment Elizabeth was puzzled. The white face amid its sombre, +heavy draperies had a familiarity she strove to name, but could not. +But as Denasia came forward, some trick of head-carriage or of walking +revealed her personality, and Elizabeth cried out in a kind of angry +amazement: + +"Denas! You here?" + +"I am no more Denas to you than you are Elizabeth to me." + +"Well, then, Mrs. Tresham! And pray where is my brother?" + +"Dead." + +"Dead? dead? Impossible! And if so, it is your fault, I know it is! I +had a letter from him--the last letter--he said he was coming to me." + +She was frightfully pale; she staggered to a sofa, sat down, and +covered her face with her gloved hands. Denasia stood by a table +watching her emotion and half-doubting its genuineness. A silence +followed, so deep and long that Elizabeth could not endure it. She +stood up and looked at Denasia, reproach and accusation in every tone +and attitude. "Where did he die?" she asked. + +"In New York." + +"Of what did he die?" + +"Of pneumonia." + +"It was your fault, I am sure of it. Your fault in some way. My poor +Roland! He had left you, I know that; and I hoped everything for his +future." + +"He had come back to me. He loved me better than ever. He died in my +arms--died adoring me. His last work on earth was to give me this list +of property, which I shall require you either to render back or to +buy from me." + +Elizabeth knew well what was wanted, and her whole soul was in arms at +the demand. Yet it was a perfectly just one. By his father's will +Roland had been left certain pieces of valuable personal property: +family portraits and plate, two splendid cabinets, old china, Chinese +and Japanese carvings, many fine paintings, antique chairs, etc., +etc., the whole being property which had either been long in the +Tresham family or endeared to it by special causes, and therefore left +personally to Roland as the representative of the Treshams. At the +break up of the Tresham home after his father's death, Roland had been +glad to leave these treasures in Elizabeth's care, nor in his +wandering life had the idea of claiming them ever come to him. As for +their sale, that would have been an indignity to his ancestors below +the contemplation of Roland. + +Fortunately Mr. Tresham's lawyer had insisted upon Mrs. Burrell giving +Roland a list of the articles left in her charge and an acknowledgment +of Roland's right to them. "Life is so queer and has so many queer +turns," he said, "that nothing can be left to likelihoods. Mrs. +Burrell is not likely to die, but she may do so; and then there may be +a new Mrs. Burrell who may make trouble, and I can conceive of many +other complications which would render nugatory the intentions of the +late Mr. Tresham. The property must, therefore, be set behind the +bulwark of the law." Elizabeth herself had acknowledged this danger, +and she had done all that was required of her in order to keep the +Tresham family treasures within the keeping of the Treshams. + +She was now confronted with her own acknowledgment and agreement, or +at least with a copy of it, and she was well aware that it would +be the greatest folly to deny the claim of Roland's wife. But the +idea of robbing her beautiful home for Denasia was very bitter to +her. She glanced around the room and imagined the precious cabinets +and china, the curious carvings and fine paintings taken away, and +then the alternative, the money she would have to pay to Denasia if +she retained them, came with equal force and clearness to her +intelligence. + +"Mrs. Tresham," she said in a conciliating voice, "these objects can +be of no value to you." + +"Roland told me they were worth at least two thousand pounds, perhaps +more. There is a picture of Turner's, which of----" + +"What do you know about Turner? And can you really entertain the +thought of selling things so precious to our family?" + +"Roland wished you to buy them. If you do not value them sufficiently +to do so, why should I keep them? In my father's cottage they would be +absurd." + +"Your father's cottage? You are laughing at me!" + +"I am too sorrowful a woman to laugh. A few weeks ago, if I had had +only one of these pictures I would have sold it for a mouthful of +bread--for a little coal to warm myself; oh, my God! for medicine to +save my child's life or to ease his passage to the grave." + +"I had forgotten the child. Where is he?" + +"By his father's side." + +"That is well and best, doubtless." + +"It is not well and best. What do you know? You have never been a +mother. God never gave you such sorrowful grace." + +"We will return to the list, if you please. What do you propose to +do?" + +"I have spoken to a man in Baker Street who deals in such things. If +you wish to buy them and will pay their fair value I will sell them to +you, because Roland desired you to have them. If you do not wish to +buy them or will not pay a fair price I will remove them to Baker +Street. There are others who will know their value." + +"I advanced Roland a great deal of money." + +"You gave him it. You demanded and accepted his thanks. The sums all +told would not pay for the use of the property." + +"I shall do right, of course. Bring the man you have spoken of +to-morrow afternoon, and I also will have here an expert of the same +kind. I will pay you whatever they decide is a proper sum." + +"That will satisfy me." + +"I am sorry affairs have come to this point between us. I tried to be +kind to you. I think you have been very ungrateful." + +"You were kind only to yourself. You never were a favourite in St. +Penfer. Other ladies did not often call upon you. In me you had a +companionship which you could control, you had your sewing done for +next to nothing, you had the news of the town brought to you. You +played upon my restless disposition, my love of fine clothing, my +ambition to be some one greater than Denas Penelles, and as soon as +good fortune came to you and you had everything you desired, you found +me a bore, a claimant on your sense of justice which you did not like +to meet. Understand that the fact of wearing silk and jewelry does not +give you the right to take up an immortal soul and play with it or +cast it aside as you find it convenient. I owe you the deepest grudge. +You made me dissatisfied with my own life, you showed me the pleasant +vistas of a different life, and when I hoped to enter with you, I +found myself outside and the door shut in my face. You have always +tried to make Roland dissatisfied with me. You insinuated, you +deplored, in every letter to him. You stabbed while you pretended to +kiss me. I found you out long ago. Everyone finds you out. You never +had a friend. You never will have one." + +She spoke with that pitiless scorn which is the language of suppressed +passion. Elizabeth only lifted her eyebrows and turned away from her. +And Denasia knew that she had made a mistake, and yet she did not +regret it. There are times when it is a relief to be angry, whether we +do well to be so or not; when to lose the temper is better than to +keep it. Of course there are great and beautiful souls with whom +nothing turns to bitterness, but the soul of Denasia was not one of +these. It had been born ready to feel and ready to speak, and regarded +it as something of a virtue to do so. + +She left Elizabeth's house in a very unhappy mood, and at a rapid walk +proceeded to her lodging in Bloomsbury. She would have felt the +confinement of a cab to be intolerable, but it was a relief to set her +personality against the friction of a million of encompassing wills. +And in a short time she succumbed to that condition of electricity +which they evolve, and permitted herself to be moved by it without +considering her steps. + +At length she was hungry, and she turned into a place of refreshment +and ate with more healthy desire than she had felt for many months, +and then the restless, fretting creature within was pacified, and she +resolved to walk quietly to her room and sleep before she suffered +herself to think any more. But as she was following out this plan she +came to a famous theatre, and the name at the entrance attracted her. +"I will be my own judge," she said. "I will see, and hear, and be more +unmerciful to myself than any other could be." + +So she entered the place and sat throughout three scenes. She did not +wait for the final act. There was no necessity. She had arrived at her +verdict. It was in her eyes and attitude when she left the building, +but she gave it no voice until she sat weary and sad before the +glimmering fire in her room. + +"I could be Queen of England as easily as I could be a prima donna," +she said mournfully. "There was perhaps a time--perhaps--perhaps, when +youth and beauty and love could have helped me, but that time has gone +for ever." + +She said the words slowly, and the weight of despair was on each one. +For she realised that in her case effort had brought forth no lasting +fruit and that endurance had been without avail, and she was +exceedingly sorrowful. For there is a singular vitality in the idea of +public singing or acting when once it has taken root in any nature, +and Denasia had been subject that night to one of its periods of +revival. She had told herself that "she would probably have a thousand +pounds; that she could go to Italy and pay for the best teachers; that +it would please Roland if he knew, if he remembered, for her to do so; +that it would annoy Elizabeth in many ways if she became a singer; +that she would show the world it was possible to sing and act and yet +be in every respect womanly, pure-hearted, and blameless before God +and man." + +These and many such ideas had filled her mind at intervals all the way +across the Atlantic, and her passionate renunciation of the stage, +made that miserable day when Roland deserted her, began to lose its +reasonableness and therefore its sense of obligation. After her +interview with Elizabeth, the question of money to carry out such +intentions was practically settled, and she had, therefore, only to +arrive at a positive personal conclusion. Once or twice in her public +career she had received what her heart told her was a just criticism. +It had not been a very flattering one, and Roland had passionately +denied its justice. But she felt that the hour had now come when she +must have the truth and accept the truth. + +So she had tested herself by the natural and acquired abilities of the +greatest singer of the day. It was, perhaps, a pitiless standard, but +she felt that her safety demanded its extremity. Her comparisons made +her burn with shame at her own shortcomings. She wondered how Roland +could have been so deceived, how he could have hoped or believed in +her at all. She forgot that circumstances had quite altered Roland's +first intentions, and that in following out his secondary ones less +distinctive talent was sufficient. On their marriage if he had taken +her, as he proposed, to Italy; if the three last restless, miserable +years had been spent in repose, in a favourable climate under fine +instructors, with a happy, satisfied, hopeful affection to stimulate +and support her ambition--ah, then all of Roland's hopes might have +been fulfilled. But lack of patience as much as lack of money had +brought final failure. The blossom had been gathered and worn with but +small _eclat_, and there was now no hope of fruit. + +Full of such sombre thoughts, she turned up the lights and looked at +herself. Gone was her radiant beauty, her splendid youth; gone also +her buoyant spirit and invincible courage. That night as she sat there +alone she buried for ever this hope of a life for which she was not +destined. Yet it was while sitting on that very hearth together Roland +and she had felt the joy of her first triumph at Willis Hall. She +could remember every incident of her return home the night of her +brilliant _debut_. How Roland had praised her and loved her. Neither +of them then thought the temporary success to be the first downward +step from their original grander ideal; the first step toward a +miserable failure. Now it was clear enough. Alas! alas! Why cannot +joy, as well as sorrow, open the eyes? Why are they only washed +clear-seeing with tears? + +When the hopeless ceremony was over and she had fully accepted the lot +before her, she rose and with tear-filled eyes looked around the place +of her renunciation. She felt as if her husband ought to have some +consciousness of her disappointment; as if the longing in her heart +should bring him to her side. Where was he? Where had he gone to? +"Roland! Roland!" she whispered, and the silence beat upon her heart +like the blows of a hammer. Was he present? Did he hear her? She felt +until she reached the very rim of conscious feeling, and then? Alas! +nothing but a mighty mystery looming beyond. + +Weary and exhausted with emotion, she lay down and slept, and in the +morning the courage born of a resolved mind was with her. When she had +finished her business with Elizabeth, then there was her father and +her mother and her real life again. She must go back and take it up +just where she had thrown it down. And this humiliating duty was all +that her own way had brought her. Never again would she take her +destiny out of the keeping of the good God who orders all things well. +On this resolution she stayed her heart, and somehow in her sleep +there had come to her a conviction that the time of smiles would +surely come back to her once more. For God giveth His children in +their sleep, and the sorrowful wake up comforted, and the weak +strong, because some angel has visited them and "they knew it not." + +Elizabeth was quite prepared for her visitor. She was, indeed, anxious +to get the affair settled and to dismiss Denasia from her life for +ever. Her lawyer and appraiser were busy when Denasia arrived, and +without ceremony each article specified in Roland's list was examined +and valued. Elizabeth offered her sister-in-law no courtesy; she +barely bowed in response to her greeting, and there was a final very +severe struggle as to values. Mrs. Burrell had certainly hoped to +satisfy Denasia with a thousand pounds, but the official adjustment +was sixteen hundred pounds, and for this sum Roland's widow, who was +irritated by her sister-in-law's evident scorn and dislike, stubbornly +stood firm. + +It is probable that Elizabeth would also have turned stubborn and have +suffered the articles to go to the auction-room had not her personal +pride and interests demanded the sacrifice. But she had already +introduced Lord Sudleigh to these family treasures, and she could not +endure to go to Sudleigh Castle and take with her no heirlooms to be +surety for her respectability. So that, after all, Denasia won her +rights easily, because a man whom she had never seen and never even +heard of pleaded her case for her. But she had no exceptional favour. +It is the people whom we do not know that are often our helpers. It is +the people who seem to have no possible connection with us that are +often the tools used by fate for our fortune. + +When the transaction was fully over and Denasia had Elizabeth's cheque +in her pocket the day was nearly over. The business agents left +hurriedly and Denasia was going with them, when Elizabeth said: +"Return a moment, if you please, Mrs. Tresham. I have heard nothing +from you about my brother. I think it is your duty to give me some +information. I am very miserable," and she sat down and covered her +face. Her sobs, hardly restrained, touched Denasia. She was sorry for +the weeping woman, for she knew that if Elizabeth had loved any human +creature truly and unselfishly, it was her brother Roland. + +"What can I tell you?" she asked. + +"Something to comfort me, if you are not utterly heartless. Had he +doctors? help? comforts of any kind?" + +"He had everything that money and love could procure. He died in Mr. +Lanhearne's house. I was at his side. Whatever could be done by human +skill to save his life was done." + +"Did he name me often?" + +"Yes." + +"And you never said a word--never would have done--you were going away +without telling me. How could you be so cruel?" + +"It was wrong. I should have told you. He spoke often about you. In +his delirium he believed himself with you. He called your name three +times just before he died; it was only a whisper then, he was so +weak." + +Elizabeth wept bitterly, and Denasia, moved by many memories, could +not watch her unmoved. After a wretched pause she said: + +"Good-bye! You are Roland's sister and he loved you. So then I cannot +really hate you. I forgive you all." + +But Elizabeth did not answer. The loss of her brother, the loss of her +money--she was feeling that this woman had been the cause of all her +sorrows. Grief and anger swelled within her heart; she felt it to be +an intolerable wrong to be forgiven. She was silent until Denasia was +closing the door, then she rose hastily and followed her. + +"Go!" she cried, "and never cross my path again. You have brought me +nothing but misery." + +"It is quite just that I should bring you misery. Remember, now, that +if you do a wrong you will have to pay the price of it." + +Trembling with anger and emotion, she clasped her purse tightly and +called a cab to take her to her lodging. The money was money, at any +rate. A poor exchange for love, certainly, but still Roland's last +gift to her. It proved that in his dying hours he loved her best of +all. He had put his family pride beneath her feet. He had put his +sister's interest second to her interest. She felt that every pound +represented to her so much of Roland's consideration and affection. It +was, too, a large sum of money. It made her in her own station a very +rich woman. If she put it in the St. Penfer bank it would insure her a +great deal of respect. That was one side of the question. The other +was less satisfactory. People would speculate as to how she had +become possessed of such a sum. Many would not scruple to say, "It was +sinful money, won in the devil's service." All who wished to be unkind +to her could find in it an occasion for hard sayings. In small +communities everything but prosperity is forgiven; that is never +really forgiven to anyone; and though Denasia did not find words for +this feeling, she was aware of it, because she was desirous to avoid +unnecessary ill-will. + +She sat with the cheque in her hand a long time, considering what to do +with it. Her natural vanity and pride, her sense of superior +intelligence, education, travel, and experience urged her to take +whatever good it might bring her. And she went to sleep resolving to do +so. But she awoke in the midnight with a strange sense of humiliation. +In that time of questions she was troubled by soul-inquiries that came +one upon another close as the blows of a lash. She was then shocked +at the intentions with which she had fallen asleep. The little +vanities, and condescensions, and generosities which she had planned for +her own glory--how contemptible they appeared! And in the darkness she +could see their certain end--envy and hatred for herself and +dissatisfaction and loss of friends for her father and mother. Had +she not already given them sorrow enough? + +Her right course was then clear as a band of light. She would +deposit the money at interest in a London bank. She would say nothing +at all about its possession. Before leaving for St. Penfer she would +buy a couple of printed gowns, such as would not be incongruous with +her surroundings. She would go back to her home and village as +empty-handed as she left them--a beggar, even, for a little love +and sympathy, for toleration for her wanderings, for forgiveness +for those deeds by which she had wounded the consciences and +self-respect of her own people and her own caste. + +This determination awoke with her in the morning, and she followed it +out literally. The presents she had resolved to buy in order to get +herself a little favour were put out of consideration. She purchased +only a few plain garments for her own every-day wearing. She left her +money with strangers who attached no importance to it; and, with one +small American trunk holding easily all her possessions, she turned +her face once more to the little fishing village of St. Penfer by the +Sea. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +ONLY FRIENDS. + + "Stay at home, my heart, and rest, + Home-keeping hearts are happiest; + For those that wander they know not where + Are full of trouble and full of care-- + To stay at home is best." + --SONG. + + "... Those first affections, + Those shadowy recollections, + Which be they what they may, + Are yet the fountain-light of all our day; + Are yet a master-sight of all our seeing." + --WORDSWORTH. + + +Only those who have experienced the sensation can tell how strange and +sad is the feeling with which the soul turns away from a destiny +accomplished. When Denas had deposited her money in the Clydesdale +Bank and made the few purchases she thought proper and prudent, she +felt that one room of the house of life was barred for ever against +her return to it. + +For a few years her experiences had been strangely interwoven with +those of the Treshams. To what purpose? Why had they been so? As far +as this existence was concerned, it seemed a relationship that might +well have been omitted. But who can tell what circumstances went +before it or what were to follow? For all human beings leave behind +them as they go through life a train of events which are due either to +impulses originating in a previous existence or are the seeds of +events which are to be perfected in a future one; what we sow, that we +shall surely reap. + +Leaving London, such thoughts of something final, at least as far as +this probation was concerned, greatly depressed Denas. "Never more, +never more," was the monotonous refrain that sprang from her soul to +her lips. But it is a wise provision of the Merciful One that the +past, in a healthy mind, very soon loses its charm, and the things +that are present take the first place. + +"I cannot bring anything back. I do not think I would bring anything +back if I could. I have been very unhappy and restless in the past. +Every pleasure I had was tithed by sorrow. Roland loved me, but I +brought him only disappointment. I loved Roland, and yet all my +efforts to make him happy were failures. Roland has been taken from +me. Our child has been taken away from me. Elizabeth I have put +away--death could not sever us more effectually. I am going back to my +own people and my own life, and I pray God to give me a contented +heart in it." + +These were the colour of her reflections as the train bore her swiftly +to the fortune of her future years. She had no enthusiasm about them. +She thought she knew all the possibilities they kept. She looked for +no extraordinary thing, for no special favour to brighten their +uniform occupations and simple pleasures. She had taken the first +train she could, without considering the time of its arrival in St. +Penfer. She told herself that there would be a certain amount of +gossip about her return, and that it could not be avoided by either a +public or private arrival. Still, she was glad when the sun set and +the shadows of the night were stretched out--glad that the moon was +too young to give much light, and that it was quite nine o'clock when +the St. Penfer station was reached. + +A few people were on the platform, but none of them were thinking of +Mrs. Tresham, and the woman so simply dressed and veiled in black made +no impression on anyone. She left her trunk in the baggage-room and +went by the familiar road down the cliff-breast. It had been raining, +of course, and the ground was heavy and wet; but the sky was clear, +and the half-moon made a half-twilight among the bare branches and +shed a faint bar of light across the ocean. + +At the last reach she stood still a moment and looked at the clustered +cottages and the boats swaying softly on the incoming tide. A great +peace was over the place. The very houses seemed to be resting. There +was fire or candle light in every glimmering square of their windows; +but not a man, or a woman, or a child in sight. As she drew near to +her father's cottage, she saw that it was very brightly lighted; and +then she remembered that it was Friday night, and that very likely the +weekly religious meeting was being held there. That would account for +the diffused quiet of the whole village. + +The thought made her pause. She had no desire to turn her home-coming +into a scene. So she walked softly to the back of the little house and +entered the curing shed. There was only a slight door--a door very +seldom tightly closed--between this shed and the cottage room. She +knew all its arrangements. It was called a curing shed, but in reality +it had long been appropriated to domestic purposes. Joan kept her milk +and provisions in it, and used it as a kind of kitchen. Every shelf +and stool, almost every plate and basin, had its place there, and +Denas knew them. She went to the milk pitcher and drank a deep +draught; and then she took a little three-legged stool, and placing it +gently by the door, sat down to listen and to wait. + +Her father was talking in that soft, chanting tone used by the fishers +of St. Penfer, and the drawling intonations, with the occasional rise +of the voice at the end of a sentence, came to the ears of Denas with +the pleasant familiarity of an old song. + +As he ceased speaking some woman began to sing "The Ninety-and-Nine," +and so singing they rose and passed out of the cottage and to their +own homes. One by one the echoes of their voices ceased, until, at the +last verse, only John and Joan were singing. As they finished, Denas +looked into the room. Joan was lifting the big Bible covered with +green baize. Between this cover and the binding all the letters Denas +had sent them were kept, and the fond mother was touching and +straightening them. John, with his pipe in one hand, was lifting the +other to the shelf above his head for his tobacco-jar. The last words +of the hymn were still on their lips. + +Denas opened the door and stood just within the room, looking at them. +Both fixed their eyes upon her. They thought they saw a spirit. They +were speechless. + +"Father! Mother! It is Denas!" + +She came forward quickly as she spoke. Joan uttered one piercing cry. +John let his pipe fall to pieces on the hearthstone and drew his child +within his arms. "It be Denas! It be Denas! her own dear self," he +said, and he sat down and took her to his breast, and the poor girl +snuggled her head into his big beard, and he kissed away her tears and +soothed her as he had done when she was only a baby. + +And then poor Joan was on the rug at their feet. She was taking the +wet stockings and shoes off of her daughter's feet; she was drying +them gently with her apron, fondling and kissing them as she had been +used to do when her little Denas came in from the boats or the school +wet-footed. And Denas was stooping to her mother and kissing the happy +tears off her face, and the conversation was only in those single +words that are too sweet to mix with other words; until Joan, with +that womanly instinct that never fails in such extremities, began to +bring into the excited tone those tender material cares that make love +possible and life-like. + +"Oh, my darling," she cried, "your little feet be dripping wet, and +you be hungry, I know, and we will have a cup of tea. And, Denas, +there be such a pie in the cupboard. And a bowl of clotted cream, too. +It is just like the good God knew my girl was coming home. And I +wonder who put it into my heart to have a mother's welcome for her? +And how be your husband, my dear?" + +"He is dead, mother." + +"God's peace on him!" + +"And the little lad, Denas--my little grandson that be called John +after me." + +"He is dead, too, father." + +Then they were speechless, and they kissed her again and mingled their +tears with her tears, and John felt a sudden lonely place where he had +put this poor little grandson whom he was never to see. + +Then Denas began to drink her warm tea and to talk to her parents; but +they said no words but kind words of the dead. They listened to the +pitiful taking-away of the young man, and before the majesty of death +they forgot their anger and their dislike, and left him hopefully to +the mercy of the Merciful. For if John and Joan knew anything, they +knew that none of us shall enter paradise except God cover us with His +mercy. + +And not one word of all her trouble did Denas titter. She spoke only +of Roland's great love for her; of their trials endured together; of +his resignation to death; of her own loneliness and suffering since +his burial; and then, clasping her father's and mother's hands, she +said: + +"So I have come back to you. I have come back to my old life. I shall +never act again. I shall sing no more in this world. That life is +over. It was not a happy life. Without Roland it would be beyond my +power to endure it." + +"You be welcome here as the sunshine. Oh, my dear girl, you be light +to my eyes and joy to my heart, and there is no trouble can hurt me +much now." + +Then Joan said: "'Twas this very morning I put clean linen on your +bed, Denas. I swept the room, and then made the pie, and clotted the +cream, and I never knew who I did it for. Oh, Denas, what a godsend +you do be! John, my old dear, our life be turned to sunshine now." + +And long after Denas had fallen asleep they sat by their fire and +talked of their child's sorrow, and Joan got up frequently and took a +candle and, shading it with her hand, went and looked to see if the +girl was all right. When Denas was a babe in the cradle, Joan had been +used to satisfy her motherly longing in the same way. Her widowed +child was still her baby. + +In the morning John went from cottage to cottage and told his friends +to come and rejoice with him. For really to John "the dead was alive +and the lost was found." And it was a great wonderment in the village; +men nor women could talk of anything else but the return of Denas +Tresham. Many were really glad to see her; and if some visited the +poor, stricken woman thinking to add a homily to God's smiting, they +were abashed by her evident suffering, by her pallor and her wasted +form, and the sombre plainness of her black garments. For some days +life was thus kept at a tension beyond its natural strain, and Joan +and her daughter had no time to recover the every-day atmosphere. But +no excitement outlasts the week's perchances and changes, and after +the second Sunday all her acquaintances had seen Denas, and curiosity +and interest were at their normal standard. + +All her acquaintances but Tris Penrose. Denas wondered that he did not +come to see her, and yet she had a shy dislike to make inquiries about +him. For the love of Tris Penrose for Denas Penelles had been the +village romance ever since they were children together, and she feared +that a word from her about him might set the women to smiling and +sympathising and to taking her affairs out of her own hands. + +As the home-life settled to its usual colour and cares, Denas became +conscious of a change in it. She saw that her father went very seldom +to sea, that he was depressed and restless, and that her mother, in a +great measure, echoed his moods. And she was obliged to confess that +she was terribly weary. There was little housework to do, except what +fell naturally to Joan's care, and interference with these duties +appeared to annoy the methodical old woman. The knitting was far +ahead, there were no nets to mend; and when Denas had made herself a +couple of dresses, there seemed to be no work for her to do. And she +was not specially fond of reading. Culture and study she could +understand if their definite end was money; but for the simple love +of information or pleasure books were not attractive to her. + +So in a month she had come to a place in her experience when it was a +consolation to think of that sixteen hundred pounds in London. She +might yet find it necessary to her happiness; for without some change +she could not much longer endure the idleness and monotony of her +life. Fortunately the change came. One morning a woman visited the +cottage, and the sole burden of her conversation was the lack of a +school in St. Penfer by the Sea to which the fisher-children might go +in the morning. + +"Here be my six little uns," she cried, "and up the cliff they must +hurry all, through any wind or weather, or learn nothing. And then +they be that tired when they do get home again, they be no use at all +about the bait-boxes or the boats. There be sixty school-going +children in the village, and I do say there ought to be a school here +for them." + +And suddenly it came into the heart of Denas to open a school. Pay or +no pay, she was sure she would enjoy the work, and that afternoon she +went about it. An empty cottage was secured, a fisher-carpenter agreed +to make the benches, and at an outlay of two or three pounds she +provided all that was necessary. The affair made a great stir in the +hamlet. She had more applications for admission than the cottage would +hold, and she selected from these thirty of the youngest of the +children. + +For the first time in many months Denas was sensible of enthusiasm in +her employment. But Joan did not apparently share her hopes or her +pleasure. She was silent and depressed and answered Denas with a +slight air of injury. + +"They have agreed to pay a penny a week for each child," Denas said to +her mother. + +"Well, Denas, some will pay and some will never pay." + +"To be sure. I know that, mother. But it does not much matter." + +"Aw, then, it do matter, my girl--it do matter, a great deal." And +Joan began to cry a little and to arrange her crockery with far more +noise than was necessary. + +"Dear mother, what is it? Are you in trouble of any kind?" + +"Aw, then, Denas, I be troubled to think you never saw your father's +trouble. He be sad and anxious enough, God knows. And no one to say +'here, John,' or 'there, John,' or give him a helping hand in any +way." + +"Sit down, mother, and tell me all. I have seen that father's ways are +changed and that he seldom goes to the fishing. I hoped the reason was +that he had no longer any need to go regularly." + +"No need? Aw, my dear, he has no boat!" + +"No boat! Mother, what do you mean to tell me?" + +"I mean, child, that on the same night the steamer _Lorne_ was wrecked +your father lost his boat and his nets, and barely got to land with +his life--never would have done that but for Tris Penrose, who lost +all, too--and both of them at the mercy of the waves when the +life-boat reached them. Aw, my dear, a bad night. And bad times ever +since for your father. Now and then he do get a night with Trenager, +or Penlow, or Adam Oliver; but they be only making a job for him. And +when pilchard time comes, 'tis to St. Ives he must go and hire himself +out--at his age, too. It makes me ugly, Denas. My old dear hiring +himself out after he have sailed his own boat ever since man he was. +And then to see you spending pounds and pounds on school-benches and +books, and talking of it not mattering if you was paid or not paid; +and me weighing every penny-piece, and your father counting the +pipefuls in his tobacco-jar. Aw, 'tis cruel hard! Cruel! cruel!" + +"Now, then, mother, dry your eyes--and there--let me kiss them dry. +Listen: Father shall have the finest fishing-boat that sails out of +any Cornish port. Oh, mother, dear! Spend every penny you want to +spend, and I will go to the church town this afternoon to buy father +tobacco for a whole year." + +"Let me cry! Let me cry for joy, Denas! Let me cry for joy! You have +rolled a stone off my heart. Be you rich, dear?" + +"Not rich, mother, but I have sixteen hundred pounds at interest." + +"Sixteen hundred silent pounds, and they might have been busy, happy, +working pounds! Aw, Denas, what hours of black care the knowing of +them might have saved us. But there, then--I had forgotten. The money +be dance money and theatre money, and your father will not touch a +penny of it. I do know he will not." + +"Mother, when I stopped singing--when I left the theatre for ever I +had not in my purse one half-penny. Roland gave me fifty dollars; that +came from Elizabeth--that was all I had. When it was gone, Roland was +employed by Mr. Lanhearne. I told you about him." + +"Yes, dear. How then?" + +"Roland's father left him pictures and silver plate and many valuable +things belonging to the Treshams, and when Roland died they were mine. +Elizabeth bought them from me. They were worth two thousand pounds; +she gave me sixteen hundred pounds." + +"Why didn't you tell father and me? 'Twas cruel thoughtless of you." + +"No, no! I wanted to come back to you as I left you--just Denas--without +anything but your love to ask favour from. If I had come swelling +myself like a great lady, worth sixteen hundred pounds, how all the +people would have hated me! What dreadful things they would have said! +Father would have had his hands full and his heart full to make this +one and that one keep the insult behind their lips. Oh, 'twould have +been a broad defiance to evil of every kind. I did think, too, that +father had some money in St. Merryn's Bank." + +"To be sure. And so he did. But there--your aunt Helen's husband was +drowned last winter, and nothing laid by to bury him, and father had +it to do; and then there was a mortgage on the cottage, and that was +to lift, or no roof to cover Helen and her children. So with this and +that the one hundred pounds went away to forty pounds. That be for +our own burying. There be twenty pounds of yours there." + +"Mine is yours!" Then rising quickly, she struck her hands sharply +together and cried out: "ONE and ALL! ONE and ALL!"[4] + +And Joan answered her promptly, letting the towel fall from her grasp +to imitate the sharp smiting of the hands as with beaming face she +repeated the heart-stirring cry. + +"ONE and ALL! ONE and ALL! Denas. Aw, my girl, there was a time when I +said in my anger I was sorry I gave you suck. This day I be right glad +of it! You be true blood! Cornish clean through, Denas!" + +"Yes, I be true Cornish, mother, and the money I have is honest money. +Father can take it without a doubt. But I will see Lawyer Tremaine, +and he shall put the sum I got in the St. Penfer _News_, and tell what +I got it for, and none can say I did wrong to take my widow right." + +"I be so happy, Denas! I be so happy! My old dear will have his own +boat! My old dear will have his own boat!" + +"Now, mother, neither you nor I can buy a boat. Shall we tell father +and let him choose for himself?" + +Joan knew this was the most prudent plan, but that love of "surprise +pleasures" which is a dominant passion in children and uneducated +natures would not let Joan admit at once this solution of the +difficulty. How could she forego the delight of all the private +consultations; of the bringing home of the boat; of the wonder of the +villagers; of John's happy amazement? She could not bear to +contemplate the prosaic, commonplace method of sending John to buy his +own boat when it was within the power of Denas and herself to be an +unseen gracious providence to him. So after a moment's thought she +said: "There be Tris Penrose. It will be busy all and happy all for +him to be about such a job." + +"I have not seen Tris since I came home. He is the only one who has +not come to say welcome to me." + +"Aw, then, 'twas only yesterday he got home himself. He has been away +with Mr. Arundel on his yacht." + +"You never told me." + +"You never asked. I thought, then, you didn't want Tris to be named." + +"But what for shouldn't I name Tris?" + +"La! my dear, the love in Tris' heart was a trouble to you. You were +saying that often." + +"But Tris knows about fishing-boats?" + +"Who knows more?" + +"And what kind of a boat father would like best?" + +"None can tell that as well." + +"And Tris is home again?" + +"That be true. Ann Trewillow told me, and she be working at the Abbey +two days in the week." + +"Has Mr. Arundel bought the Abbey?" + +"He has done that, and it be made a grand place now. And when Tris +lost his boat trying to save your father's life and boat, Mr. Arundel +was with the coast-guard and saw him. And he said: 'A fine young man! +A fine young man!' So the next thing was, he spoke to Tris and hired +him to sail his yacht. And 'tis far off, by the way of Giberaltar, +they have been--yet home at last, thank God!" + +"Tris will be sure to come here, I suppose?" + +"Ann Trewillow told him you were home--a widow, and all; he will be +here as soon as he can leave the yacht. It is here he comes first of +all as soon as he touches land again." + +"Then we will speak to him about the boat." + +"To be sure. And I do wish he would hurry all and show himself. New +boats be building, but the best may get sold--a day might make a +difference." + +"And now, mother, you must try and lift the care from father's heart. +Let him know, some way, that money troubles are over and that he may +carry his head up. You can do it--a little word--a little look from +you--he will understand." + +"Aw, then, Denas, a smile is enough. I can lift my eyelids, and he'll +see the light under them and catch it in his heart. John isn't a +woman. Thank God, he can be happy and ask no questions--trusting all. +Your father be a good man to trust and hope." + +Then the day, that had seemed to stretch itself out so long and +wearily, was all too short for Joan and Denas. They talked about the +money freely and happily, and Denas could now tell her mother all the +circumstances of her visit to Elizabeth. They were full of interest to +the simple woman. She enjoyed hearing about the dress Elizabeth wore; +about her house, her anger, her disappointment, and hard reluctance to +pay money for the treasures she had begun to regard as her own. + +So the morning passed quickly away, and in the afternoon Denas went +into the village to look after her school-room. It was such a lovely +spring day. The sky was so blue, the sea was so blue, the earth was so +green and sweet, and the air so fresh and clear that Denas could not +but be glad that she was alive to be cheered by them. Not for a very +long time had she felt so calmly happy, so hopeful of the future, so +resigned to the past. + +After her business in the village was over she walked toward the +cliff. She had some idea that it would be pleasant to go up to the +church town, but just where the trees and underwood came near to the +shingle a little bird singing on a May-thorn beguiled her to listen. +Then the songster went on and on, as if it called her, and Denas +followed its music; until, by and by, she came to where the shingle +was but a narrow strip, and the verdure retreated, and the rocks grew +larger and higher; and, anon, she was at the promontory between St. +Penfer and St. Clair. + +It would now be impossible to go up the cliff and back again before +tea-time, and she sat down to rest a little before returning home. She +sat longer than she intended, for the dreamy, monotonous murmur of the +waves and the stillness and solitude predisposed her to that kind of +drifting thought which keeps assuring time: "I am going directly." + +She was effectually roused at last by the sound of a clear, strong +voice whistling a charming melody. She sat quite still. A conviction +that it was Tris Penrose came into her heart. She wondered if he would +notice--know--speak to her. Tris saw her figure as quickly as it came +within his vision, and as quickly as he saw it he knew who was +present. He ceased whistling and cried out cheerily: + +"Denas? What, Denas?" + +She stood up then and held out her hands to him. And she was startled +beyond measure by the Tris that met her gaze. Naturally a very +handsome man, his beauty was made most attractive by a sailor suit of +blue broadcloth. His throat was open to the sea breeze, a blue +kerchief tied around it in a sailor's knot. And then her eyes wandered +to his sun-browned face, close-curling black hair, and the little +blue, gold-trimmed cap set upon the curls. The whole filled her with a +pleasant wonder. She made a little time over his splendour, and asked +if he was going to the pilchard fishing in such finery. And he took +all her hurried, laughing, fluttering remarks with the greatest +good-humour. He said, indeed, that he had been told she was home +again, and that he wore the dress because he was coming to see her. + +Then they sat down, and she told Tris what she desired to do for her +father, and Tris entered into the project as enthusiastically as if he +was a child. Never before had Tris felt so heart-satisfied. It was +such a joy to have Denas beside him; such a joy to know that she was +free again; such a joy to share a secret with her. And gradually the +effusiveness of their first meeting toned itself down to quiet, +restful confidence, and then they rose together and began to walk +slowly toward the cottage. For of course Joan was to be consulted, and +besides, Tris had a present for her in his pocket. + +The westering sun sent level rays of sunshine before them, and they +tried involuntarily to step in it as they used to do when they were +children. Tris could not help a smile as they did so, and then one of +those closely personal conversations began whose initial point is +always: "And do you remember?" Tris remembered everything, and +especially one Saturday when they ran away together to a little fairy +cove and made boats all day long. Yes, every movement of that happy +day was in Tris' heart, and he told Denas that the same pebbly shore +was still there, and that often he fancied he heard on it the beat of +their little pattering, naked feet, and wished that they could have +been children upon the shore for ever, and ever, and evermore. + +"I do not think that would have been nice at all, Tris," answered +Denas. "It is better to be grown up. You were only good to play with +then. I could not have asked you to go and buy a boat for father, +could I?" + +And Tris looked at her sweet, pale face, and noting how the pink +colour rushed into her cheeks to answer his looks, thought how right +she was, and that it was much better to have Denas a woman to be loved +than a child to be played with. + +And somehow, after this, they had no more words to say, and Tris +walked at her side under his old embarrassment of silence. Nor could +Denas talk. If she tried to do so, then she raised her eyes, and then +Tris' eyes looking into hers seemed to reproach her for the words she +did not say. And if she kept her eyes on the shingle, she still felt +Tris to be looking at her, questioning her, loving her just as he used +to do--and she could not bear it--never! never! At the first +opportunity she must make Tris understand that they could only be +friends--friends only--and nothing, positively nothing more. + + +FOOTNOTE: + + [4] The effect of this Cornish sentiment upon the Cornish heart is + mighty, as it is past reasoning about. A Cornish friend of mine + was in a silver mine among the Andes, and looking at the big, + bearded men around, he suddenly called out "ONE and ALL!" In an + instant four of the men had dropped their tools and were holding + his hands in as brotherly fashion as if the tie of blood was + between them. It is, indeed, one of those shibboleths of race + which move the soul to its most ancient depths. The malign + influences which destroy even the domestic affections touch not + the deeper sense of race. Age only increases its intensity, and + being a purely unselfish love, we may believe that it survives + death and claims the heritage of eternity. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE "DARLING DENAS." + + "... Good the more + Communicated, the more abundant grows." + --MILTON. + + "So the boat was built. Aw, they wouldn't be hoult; + And every trennel and every boult + The best of stuff. Aw, didn' considher + The 'spense nor nothin'--not a fig! + And three lugs at her--that was the rig-- + And raked a bit, three reg'lar scutchers, + And carried her canvas like a ducherss. + Chut! the trim is in the boat. + Ballast away! but the trim's in the float-- + In the very make of her! That's the trimming!" + --T. E. BROWN. + + +Money in the bank is all the comfort to the material life that a good +conscience is to the moral life. Joan was restored to her best self by +the confidence her child had given her, and John entering his cottage +in the midst of a happy discussion between Denas, Tris, and his wife, +felt as if the weight of twenty years suddenly dropped away from him. +He thought it was Tris who brought the sunshine, and he rejoiced in +it, and induced the young man to tell them about the yacht's trip and +the old cities on the Mediterranean which he had visited. + +Everyone sees strange places with their own mental and spiritual +sight, and Tris had seen Genoa and Venice and Rome and Corinth from +the standpoint of a Cornish Methodist fisherman. But apart from this +partiality he had made sensible observations of the strange ways of +building and living, and had come to the conviction that Cornish +people held the great secret of a happy life. As for the Mediterranean +itself, Tris considered it "a jade of a sea, nohow worth the praise it +got." + +"You may read the Cornish seas like a book, John," he said, "but this +Mediterranean be this way--you have to watch it every minute. Turn +your back on it for a bite or a sup, and it will get the better of you +some way, and, most likely of all, with one of its dirty white +squalls. Then I tell you, John, it is all hands to reef! Quick! and if +a single breadth of canvas be showing, it is a rip and a roar and the +death of the yacht and of every man in her." + +"And what of the yacht herself, Tris? Be she good-tempered and +good-mannered?" + +"She do behave herself beautiful. The seas may fly over her +cross-trees, but if you make her trig she comes to her bearings like a +shot to its mark; shakes herself as if she was ready for a race, and +then away she do go--just like a sea-gull for a fish." + +So they talked the evening away, and Denas listened and watched the +handsome yachtsman, kindling and laughing to the tales he told. And +when he went away she felt, as others did, the sudden fall in the +mental temperature and the chill and silence that follow any unnatural +excitement. But Denas, as well as John and Joan, were too simple for +such considerations. They only felt the change, and were sure that it +was Tris who brought the sunshine, and so, when he went, took it away +with him. + +But after this night there was a different atmosphere in John +Penelles' cottage. John's unhappiness had been mainly caused by the +sight of his wife's anxiety and sorrow; and if Joan was her old self, +John was not the man to let the loss of his boat and his position make +him miserable. For in this little cottage the wife held the same +mighty power that the wife holds in all finer homes--the power to +either make her husband weak and sorrowful or to strengthen his heart +for anything. When Joan smiled, then John could not only enjoy the +present, but he could also bravely face the future. For when a man can +trust in his wife, then he can hope in his God and all things are +possible to him. + +Denas also caught the trick of hoping and of being happy. She opened +her school with thirty scholars and found out her vocation. No one +could doubt the voice which had called her to this work; she went to +it as naturally as a bird goes to build its nest. She loved the +children and they loved her. At the end of the first week she found +herself compelled to make her number forty. The sweet authority +pleased her. The children's affection won her. Her natural power to +impart what knowledge she had gave her the sense of a benefaction. +Such loving allegiance! Such bigoted little adherents! Such blind +disciples as Denas had! In a couple of weeks she was the idol of +every child in St. Penfer by the Sea, and as mothers see through +their children, she was equally popular with the children of larger +growth. + +One very singular incident of this popularity was the fact that every +child, without special intent, without the slightest thought of +offence, called their beloved teacher Denas Penelles. For a time she +corrected the mistake, but the name Tresham was strange and +unfamiliar. They looked at her with wide-open eyes and then went back +to the old word. Denas perceived that they heard her called Penelles +in their homes, and that it was useless to take offence where none was +intended. Yet the inferred wrong to her dead husband wounded her and +rekindled in her heart the fire of old affection. + +"They want me to forget his very name," she thought angrily, and the +natural result was a determination to nurse with greater fondness the +memory which time and circumstances were daily doing their best to +efface. + +In the mean time all had been going on satisfactorily about the new +fishing-smack. Tris had taken Mr. Arundel into his confidence. He +wished to have his permission to make a careful selection and to +attend to all matters connected with its proper transfer. And though +that gentleman's own feelings did not lie upon the surface of his +nature or explain themselves in childlike secrets and surprises, he +could understand and almost envy the wealth of emotions and illusions +that demanded such primitive expressions. + +So he permitted Tris to absent himself frequently for such a laudable +purpose. Indeed, Mr. Arundel had seen the death of John's boat, and +this point of interest enabled him to feel something of the pleasure +and importance which centred around the boat now building to take its +place. For Tris had found in a yard ten miles north just the very kind +of smack John had always longed for--a boat not built by mathematical +measurements, but a wonderful, weatherly, flattish smack; that with a +jump would burst through a sea any size you like, and keep right side +up when the waves were fit to make a mouthful of her. + +She was building for the pilchard season and was to be ready for the +middle of June. And at length she was finished and waiting to be +brought to her own harbour. If she had been a living, loving human +creature, her advent could not have been more eagerly longed for. Yet +there had been a short period of coolness between Tris and Denas, for +Tris in some moment of enthusiasm had gone beyond the line Denas had +marked out for him. And then she had been cold and silent and Tris had +been miserable. Joan, also, had taken the young man rather scornfully +to task. + +"Tris," she said, "you be as knowing about a woman as Peter Mullet +was, and he was hanged for a fool. Be you looking to sow and reap in +the same month?" + +"Not as I know by, but--but----" + +"But you be so blind in love you could not see a hole in a ladder or +tell the signs on a woman's face. Denas be 'fraid of her own self. Let +her be. Let her be. If you do say a word now about your love she will +run back and hide herself in an old love--that be a woman's way. See, +now! As the old love quails the new love will fetch up--but time given +for quailing, Tris, for all that. Denas had a sight of trouble, Tris; +she may well be feared to try matrimony again." + +"I would try and make her happy. I would be a good husband." + +"Husbands! husbands! Tris, they be like pilchards--the bad ones are +very bad and the best ones be but middling." + +Then the loving fellow said with a big sigh that he would wait--but +tired of waiting and going away again, and back only when God and Mr. +Arundel said so. + +"Aw, then," answered Joan, "a good thing. Women have to miss a man +before they know they love him. Give Denas time to miss you, Tris, and +when the boat is home be a bit careless like. If she do wonder and +worry a little--a good thing for her. Women they be made up of +contraries, but sweet as blossoms and as good as gold for all that, +Tris." + +On the twenty-fourth all was ready to bring home the boat. The boat +had been sold to Denas Tresham, the money paid, and the deed of +transfer to John Penelles ready made out. There had also been prepared +a paper for the St. Penfer _News_, which was to appear that day, and +which Lawyer Tremaine said would supply a ten-days' holiday gossip for +the citizens. And no day specially made for so happy an event could +have been lovelier. The sea was dimpling all over in the sunshine; +there was just the right wind, and just enough of it, to let Tris +reach harbour in the afternoon. John wondered at the air of excitement +in his cottage. Joan was singing, Denas had her best dress on, and +both had been busy making clotted cream, and junket, and pies of all +kinds. + +In fact, John was a little depressed by this extravagance of light +hearts. He did not think the money Denas got from her school warranted +it, and he was heart-sick with the terrible fear that the busy season +was at hand and that he had found nothing to do. Adam Oliver's two +nephews from Cardiff had come to help him, and that shut one place; +and neither Trenager nor Penlow had said a word to him, and his brave +old soul sank within him. + +"And what be in the wind with you women I know nothing of," he said +fretfully, "but you do have some unlikely old ways." + +"What way be the wind, John, dear?" + +"A little nor'ard, what there be of it--only a capful, though." + +"Aw, then, John, look to the nor'ard, for good luck do come the way +the wind blows." + +"Good luck do come the way God sends it, Joan." + +"And many a time and oft it do be coming and us not thinking of it." + +John nodded gravely. There was little hope in his heart, but he went +as usual to the pier and stood there watching the boats. Most of them +were now ready for the fishing. When the men on the lookout saw the +shadow of a dark cloud coming on and on over the sea, when they waved +the signal-bush right and left over their heads and sweeping their +feet, then they would out of harbour and shoot the seine. John was +very anxious. His lips were moving, though he was silent. His body was +mindful of the situation, his soul was praying. + +"That be a strange boat," said Penlow after a long gossip; "well +managed, though. The man at her wheel, whoever he be, knows the set of +the tide round here as well as he knows his cabin. I wonder what boat +that be?" + +John had no heart to echo the wonder. Another strange boat, doubtless, +bringing more fishers. He said it was getting tea-time, he would go +along. He knew that if the fish were found and there was a seat in a +boat it would be offered him. He would not give his mates the pain of +refusing or of apologising. The next day he would go to St. Ives. + +When he reached his cottage he saw Joan and Denas on the door-step +watching the coming boat. Their smiles and interest hurt him. He +walked to the hearth and began to fill his pipe. Then Denas, with a +large paper in her hand, came to his side. She slipped on to his +knee--she laid her cheek against his cheek--she said softly, and oh, +so lovingly: + +"Father! father! The boat coming--did you see her?" + +"To be sure, Denas. I saw her, my dear." + +"She is your boat, father--yours from masthead to keel! All yours!" + +He looked at her a moment and then said: + +"Speak them words again, Denas." + +She spoke them again, smiling with frank delight and love into his +face. + +"Thank God! Now tell me about it! Joan, my old dear, come and tell me +about it." + +Then they sat down together and told him all, and showed him the St. +Penfer _News_ containing Lawyer Tremaine's statement regarding the +property which had come of right to Denas. And John listened until the +burden he had been carrying rolled quite away from his heart, and with +a great sigh he stood up and said loudly, over and over again, "Thank +God! Thank God! Thank God!" Then, as if a sudden hurry pressed him, he +cried--"Come, Joan! Come, Denas! Let us go to the pier and welcome her +home." + +She was just tacking to reach harbour when they mingled with the crowd +of men and women already there. And Ann Trewillow was calling out: +"Why, it is Tris Penrose at her wheel!" Then as she came closer a man +shouted: "It be the _Darling Denas_. It must be John Penelles' boat. +To be sure it be John's boat!" This opinion was reached by an instant +conviction, and every face was turned to John. + +"It be my boat, mates. Thank God and my little girl. It be my boat, +thank God!" + +And then Tris was at the slip, and the anchor down and all the men +were as eager about the new craft as a group of horsemen could +possibly be about the points of some famous winner. Tris had to tell +every particular about her builder and her building, and as the +fishers were talking excitedly of these things, Joan gave a general +invitation to her friends, and they followed her to the cottage, and +heard the St. Penfer _News_ read, and had a plate of junket[5] and of +clotted cream. + +And they were really proud and glad of what they heard. Denas had made +herself so beloved that no one had a grudging or, envious feeling. +Everyone considered how she had come back to them as if she had been +penniless; "and teaching our little ones too--with sixteen hundred +pounds at her back! Wonderful! Wonderful!" said first one and then +another of the women. Indeed, if Denas had thought out a plan to make +herself honoured and popular, she could hardly have conceived of one +more in unison with the simple souls she had to influence. They could +not sleep for talking about it. Denas Penelles was a veritable romance +to them. + +"And fair she was and fair she be!" said Mary Oliver, a good woman, +with not a pinch of pride in her make-up. "And if Tris Penrose win her +and she win him, a proper wedding it will be--a wedding made by their +guardian angel. I do think that." And the group of women present +answered one and then another, "A proper wedding it will be, to be +sure." + +In the evening there was a great praise-meeting at John's cottage; for +in St. Penfer all rejoicing and all sorrow ended in a religious +meeting. And Denas and Tris sang out of the same hymn-book, and sat +side by side as they listened to John's quaintly eloquent tribute to +the God "who did always keep faith with His children." "I was like to +lose sight of my God," he cried, "but my God never did lose sight of +me. God's children be well off, He goes so neighbourly with them. He +is their pilot and their home-bringer. I did weep to myself all last +night; but just as His promise says, joy did come in the morning." And +then John burst into song, and all his mates and neighbours with him. + +And it is in such holy, exalted atmospheres that love reaches its +sweetest, fairest strength and bloom. Tris had no need of words. Words +would have blundered, and hampered, and darkened all he had to say. +One look at Denas as they closed the book together--one look as he +held her hand on the door-step, and she knew more than words could +ever have said. She saw through his eyes to the bottom of his clear, +honest soul, and she knew that he loved her as men love who find in +one woman only the song of life, the master-key of all their being. + +She expected Tris would come and see her the next day, but Ann +Trewillow brought word that he had sailed with Mr. Arundel. Tris had +been expecting the order, and the yacht had only been waiting for +guests who had suddenly arrived. Denas was rather pleased. She was not +yet ready to admit a new love. She felt that in either refusing or +accepting Tris' affection she would be doing both herself and Tris an +injustice. A love that does not spring into existence perfect needs +cautious tending; too much sunshine, too much care, too constant +watching will slay it. There must be time given for it to grow. + +Without reasoning on the matter, Denas felt that absence would be a +good thing. She was afraid of being driven by emotion or by +circumstances into a mistaken position. And she had now an absorbing +interest in her life. Her school was a delight. No consideration of +money qualified her pleasure in her pupils. She was eager to teach all +she knew. She was eager to learn, that she might teach more. As the +weeks went by her school got a local fame; it was considered a great +privilege to obtain a place in it. + +Good fortune seemed to have come to St. Penfer by the Sea when +Denas came back to it. Never had there been a more abundant +sea-harvest than that summer. The _Darling Denas_ brought luck to +the whole fleet. She was a swift sailer, always first on the +fishing-ground and always first in harbour again; and it was a great +pleasure to Denas to watch her namesake leading out and leading home +the brown-sailed bread-winners of the hamlet. When the time and the +tide and the weather all served, Denas might now often be seen, with +her mother and the rest of the fishermen's wives, standing on the +wind-blown pier watching the boats out in the evening. + +There had been a time when she had positively declined the loving +ceremony--when she had hated the thought of any community in such +feelings--when the large brown faces of the wives and mothers and the +sad patience of their attitude had seemed to her only the visible +signs of a poor and sorrowful life. And even yet, as she stood among +them she was haunted by a rhyme she had read in some picture paper +years ago--a rhyme that so pathetically glanced at love that dwelt +between life and death that she never could see a group of fishermen's +wives on the pier watching the boats outside without saying it to +herself: + + "They gazed on the boats from the pier, ah, me! + Till their sails swelled in the wind, + Till darkness dropped down over the sea + And their eyes with tears were blind. + Then home they turned, and they never spoke, + These daughters and wives of the fisher-folk." + +But years and experience had taught her the falsehood of extremes; she +knew now that life has many intermediate colours between lamp-black +and rose-pink, and that if the fisherman's wife had hours of anxious +watching, she had also many hours of such rapturous love as comes +sparingly to others--love that is the portion of those who come back +from the very grave with the shadow of death on their face. + +In the autumn Tris returned for a few days, but he was so busy that he +could not leave the yacht. She was being provisioned and put in order +for the long Mediterranean winter voyage, and Tris was in constant +demand. But John and Joan and Denas walked over to St. Clair to bid +him good-bye. And never had Tris looked so handsome and so manly. His +air of authority became him. In a fishing-boat men are equal, but on +this lordly pleasure-boat it was very different. Tris said to one man +go and to another come, and they obeyed him with deference and +alacrity. This masterful condition impressed Denas greatly. She +thought of Tris with a respect which promised far more than mere +admiration for his beauty or his picturesque dress. + +After Tris was gone the winter came rapidly, but Denas did not dread +it. Neither did John nor Joan. John looked upon his boat as a +veritable godsend. What danger could come to him on a craft so +blessed? All her takes were large and fortunate. The other boats +thought it lucky to sail in her wake. On whatever side the _Darling +Denas_ cast her bait, they knew it was right to cast on that side +also. + +Joan was happy in her husband's happiness; she was happy in her +unstinted housekeeping; she was now particularly happy in Denas' +school. The little lads and lasses brought all their news, all their +joys and sorrows to Denas; and when Denas went home every day, Joan, +with her knitting in her hands, was waiting to give her a dainty meal +and to chat with her over all she had heard and all she had done. + +And Denas was happy. When she mentally contrasted this busy, loving +winter with the sorrows of the previous one, with the hunger and cold +and poverty, the anguish of death and the loneliness, she could not +but be grateful for the little home-harbour which her storm-tossed +heart had found again. If she had a regret, it was that she could not +retain her hold upon her finished life. Every time she asked her heart +after Roland, memory gave her pictures in fainter and fainter and +fainter colours. Roland was drifting farther and farther away. + +She could no longer weep at his name. A gentle melancholy, a +half-sacred remoteness invested the years in which he had been the +light of her life. For + + "When the lamp is shattered, + The light in the dust lies dead; + When the cloud is scattered, + The rainbow's glory is fled." + +Mercifully, youth has this marvellous elasticity. And the children +filled all the vacant places in her life. For as yet she did not think +much nor at all decidedly about Tris. If Roland was slipping away from +memory, Tris by no means filled her heart. Yet she was pleased when +Ann Trewillow's little maid Gillian told her one morning: + +"Master Arundel's yacht be come into harbour safe and sound, and +Captain Tris, he be brave and hearty, and busy all to get ashore +again. And my mother do say Mr. Arundel he be going to marry a fine +lady, and great doings at the Abbey, no doubt. And mother do say, too, +that Captain Tris will be marrying you. And I was a brave bit +frightened at that news, and I up and answered mother: 'It bean't so. +Miss Denas likes better teaching us boys and girls.' I said that, and +wishing it so with all my heart." + +And Denas, seeing that the boys and girls were looking anxiously at +her for an assurance of this position, said positively: + +"I am happier with you, children, than I could be with anyone else, +and I do not intend to marry at all." + +"Never? Say never!" + +"Well, then--never." + +Yet there was a faint longing in her heart for love all her own. A man +can love what others love, but a woman wants something or someone to +love that is all her own. And she was interested enough in Tris' +return to dress with more than usual care that evening. She felt sure +he would come, and she put on her best black gown and did not brush +the ripples out of her front hair, but let the tiny tendrils soften +the austere gravity of her face and make that slight shadow behind the +ears which is so womanly and becoming. + +About seven o'clock she heard his footsteps on the shingle and the gay +whistle to which they timed themselves. Joan went to the door to +welcome him. Denas stood up as he entered, and then, meeting his +ardent gaze, trembled and flushed and sat down again. He sat down +beside her. He told her how much already he had heard of her gracious +work in the village. He said it was worth going to France and Italy +and Greece, only to come back and see how much more lovely than all +other women the Cornish women were. And by and by he took from his +pocket the most exquisite kerchief of Maltese lace and a finely-carved +set of corals. Denas would have been less than a woman had she not +been charmed with the beautiful objects. She let Tris knot the lovely +silky lace around her throat, and she went to her mirror and put the +carved coral comb among her fair, abundant tresses, and the rings in +her ears, and the necklace and the locket round her white slender +throat. + +Then Tris looked at her as if he had met a goddess in a wilderness; +and Joan, with her hands against her sides, congratulated and praised +herself for having given to St. Penfer by the Sea a daughter so lovely +and so good. + + +FOOTNOTE: + + [5] Junket is made of fresh milk, spirits, spices, sugar; curdled with + rennet and eaten with clotted cream. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +DENAS. + + "She that is loved is safe; and he that is loved is joyful." + --BISHOP TAYLOR. + + "No pearls, no gold, no stones, no corn, no spice, + No cloth, no wine, of Love can pay the price; + Divine is Love, and scorneth worldly pelf, + And can be bought with nothing but itself." + --HEYWOOD. + + "To-morrow, Love, as to-day, + Two blent hearts never astray; + Two souls no power may sever; + Together, O Love, for ever!" + --ROSSETTI. + + +During the summer which followed, Tris was much at home. Mr. Arundel +did not go to Norway; he was in London with the lady whom he intended +to marry, until the end of the season, and afterward frequently at her +country home in Devonshire. Tris had then his opportunity and he did +not neglect it. But he was an impulsive young man, and very often lost +the ground on Monday that he had gained on Sunday. All of love's +fitful fevers and chills tormented him, and then he tormented Denas. +He was jealous of every moment of her time, of every kind word and +look she bestowed on others. The school offended, the children +irritated his conception of his own rights. He was as thoroughly +unreasonable and Denas as thoroughly contradictory as was necessary +for the most tantalising of love affairs. + +About the beginning of the summer, just before the pilchard season, +Jacob Trenager died. He was a Pentrath man, and of course "went home" +for his burying. It did not seem an event likely to affect the lives +of Tris and Denas, and yet it did have a very pleasant influence upon +their future. In some far-back generation a Trenager had saved the +life of an Arundel, and ever since, when any adult of one family was +buried an adult of the other threw the first earth upon the coffin, in +token of their remembrance and of their friendship. Mr. Arundel was +aware of the tradition, and he desired to perpetuate it. He was, +perhaps, actuated by some religious respect for the customs and +feelings of his ancestors; he was, undoubtedly, considerate of the +fact that he had just bought a valuable estate in the midst of these +old clannish fisher-folk, and well aware that such a trifling +concession to their prejudices might in a future Parliamentary +struggle be of preponderating value to him. + +So, in accord with his expressed desire, Trenager's funeral was +observed with all the ancient ceremonies. His mates from the numerous +villages around carried him all the way on his bier to Pentrath; +carried him by the sea-shore, singing hymns as they went. A great +crowd of men and women were in the procession, and the old church at +Pentrath was full to overflowing. Jacob's forefathers for centuries +back lay in Pentrath church-yard, and there were old people living in +the town who remembered Jacob casting the first earth on the present +Mr. Arundel's father's coffin, and who wondered whether the son would +do the same kindness for the fisherman. + +The day after Jacob's death it was noticed in St. Penfer that a +strange gentleman called upon Denas, and that Denas went up the +cliff-breast with him and remained in the church town for the greater +part of the day. And for the next two days the same thing occurred. +Probably John and Joan knew the meaning of these visits, but they +said nothing in response to the numerous "I wonders" of their +acquaintances. However, on the day of the funeral the secret was +made evident. The strange gentleman was the organist of Pentrath +church, and his visit to Denas was made to induce her to sing a +portion of the funeral service; and St. Penfer being nearer than +Pentrath, they had gone to St. Penfer church to practise. + +Nothing, however, was said of the intention, because Denas had not +felt sure that at the last moment she would be able to fulfil her +promise. But in the preliminary practice she quite recovered her +self-possession, and the long rest had given to her voice a maturity +of sweetness and power that made it a delight to exercise it. She +thought with a pleasant pride of the solemn joy she was going to give; +nor was she oblivious of the fact that her father and mother and Tris +would have an opportunity to listen to her singing music worthy of the +noblest voice to interpret. + +It was a warm, sunshiny day. The church windows were all open, and the +rustle of the trees in the church-yard, the hum of the bees, the songs +of the birds, the murmur of the town beyond, came through them. Mr. +Arundel stood at the foot of the coffin, Jacob's family at the head; +the crowd of fishers filled the old pews and aisles to overflowing. +Suddenly there was a burst of triumphant melody. It filled the church +and lifted the souls of all present up, and up, far beyond, and far + + "Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot + Which men call earth." + + "_I know that my Redeemer liveth!_" + +Higher and higher the clear, strong voice rang out the joyful +assurance, till every heart swelled to rapture and every eye was wet +with holy tears. + + "_I know that my Redeemer liveth!_" + +And as Denas sang the blessed affirmation, the organ pealed out its +noble symphony, and men and women lifted wet faces heavenward, until +to the last majestic confident strain-- + + "_Yet in my flesh shall I see God_"-- + +the coffin was lifted and the mourners and the singer followed it to +the open grave. + +Never before had Denas had such joy in God's pleasant gift of a +melodious voice. To look at her father's and mother's faces was a +happiness sufficient. The adoration of Tris, the delight and gratitude +of her friends, the conviction that she had lifted for a few moments +mortal men above their mortality and made them realise that they +should "yet see God," was in itself a recompense beyond anything she +had ever dreamed of. Nor could she put aside the comparisons that +naturally came from this effort of her power. To sing holily and +loftily, to sing in-- + + "... Strains that might create a soul + Under the ribs of death"-- + +How dear to heaven and earth such saintly melody! How different from +the-- + + "Midnight song and revelry, + Tipsy dance and jollity" + +that had once appeared an elysium of musical ravishment to her. + +Tris walked home with Denas, and this evening they came very close to +each other. And then, at the close of it, Tris unfortunately said some +words which showed how bitterly he regarded the years that had been +stolen from him by Roland Tresham. And Denas resented the anger shown +to this paling, dying shade of her memory, and the next day Tris went +away with Mr. Arundel and did not return for full five weeks. + +But Mr. Arundel had been so much interested in the singer as to ask +from Tris all that he could tell him of the life of Denas. And Tris, +like all lovers, was only too glad to talk of the girl he adored; so +as they sat together at midnight on the lonely sea, with the full +moon above them, they grew very confidential. Tris told all the story +of his love, and Mr. Arundel told Tris about the beauty and +accomplishments of the woman he was going to marry; and there was, in +this way, a kind of intimacy established which resulted in a +financial proposition making the question of marriage a very easy and +happy one to Captain Tristram Penrose, of the yacht _Spindrift_. + +That five weeks of lonely heartache taught Denas that Tris had become +a very dear portion of her life, and when he returned he found it more +easy than he had dared hope to induce her to bury for ever the strange +years which a strange love had somehow slipped into her sheaf of life. +And she promised Tris to let them fall from out her grasp, all the +vain regrets, the vain hopes, the vain love which were garnered in +them. + +Then Tris told her that he had signed a contract with Mr. Arundel for +five years, and that a portion of this contract was the use of the +stone cottage on the hill beyond the Abbey--the pretty home covered +with clematis and jasmine vines and surrounded by a lovely garden. He +said if Denas would share it with him he would make it as beautiful +within as it was without, and that he would love her more and more +fondly to the last moment of his life. He spoke with all the simple +passion of his nature and circumstances; but his heart was hot behind +his words, and Denas gave herself freely to their persuasion. + +They were sitting on the rocks by the sea-side as she did so; the +waves were breaking at their feet; the boats were lying on the +horizon; the village was as quiet as a painted village. She gave her +heart and hand to Tris there; she suffered him at last to take her to +his heart and kiss her; she intoxicated him with rapture by shyly +kissing him in return. Then they went back to the village together. +Joan was asleep in her chair. John was away with the boats. They both +kissed Joan and Tris called her "mother." And Joan said she had just +been dreaming of such a joy, and she blessed them and then went to the +door and looked toward the _Darling Denas_. If she could only see her +old dear upon the deck, she thought she could send a thought, a +thanksgiving, that would somehow, some way, reach him. + +In a few days after this happy understanding, Mr. Arundel had +apparently an equally joyful surprise. Something happened, and the +days of his waiting were over, and he was to be married immediately. +Then it was, in Cornish phrase, "busy all" to get the yacht overhauled +and well victualled. For the young couple were going to spend the +winter on the Mediterranean coasts, and Tris was as much interested in +the preparations as was possible to be, even though the unexpected +change disarranged and postponed his own plans. + +For there had absolutely been in Tris' mind a resolution to marry +Denas before he went on the winter's cruise. Of course, in making this +resolution he had never taken into account the contrary plans of Denas +and Joan, neither of whom was disposed to make any haste about the +marriage. + +"Love do soon die if there be no house for him to live in," said Joan; +"and I do feel to think that the furnishing of the house be the first +thing. And that not to be done in a week or a month, either. Ham-sam +work have no blessing or happiness with it. To be sure not. Why would +it?" + +Denas held the same opinions, so Tris went away and left the +furnishing of the house to Denas and Joan. They would have all the +winter to prepare the napery and crockery and consult about carpets +and furniture. For now that he was to become a married man and a +householder, Tris was quite inclined to take all the domestic and +social consideration his position gave him. Mr. Arundel, in placing +such a pretty home at the service of his captain, required by the very +gift a suitable acceptance of it. + +And no one but a mother can tell with what delightful pride Joan +entered into this duty. She had never bought carpets and stuffed +furniture before. The china tea-service would not let her sleep for +three nights, she was so divided between the gold and white and the +pink and gold. All the little niceties of the dining-room and the +sitting-room--the American kitchen utensils which to Joan seemed +marvellous and beautiful, the snowy curtains at every window, the +white-handled knives and the plated silver--all these things held joys +and surprises and never-ending interest to the happy mother. + +Between these duties and her school, the long winter months passed +happily away to Denas. The school, indeed, troubled her in a certain +way. Who was to keep it together? John also had formed it into a +Sunday-school and was greatly delighted with the work. But a really +good work never falls through; there is always someone to carry it on, +and one day Denas was visited among her pupils by the Wesleyan +preacher from St. Penfer. He was astonished at her methods and her +success, and he represented the claims of such a school with so much +force to the next district meeting that they gladly appointed a +teacher to fill the place of Denas. It cost her a little pang to +resign her authority; but her marriage was drawing near, and it would +necessarily be followed by her removal to St. Clair, and it was +important that the children should be provided for. + +About the end of March she had a letter from Tris. The yacht was then +at Gibraltar on its return passage, and Tris might be looked for +within a few days. But the house was nearly ready and all her personal +preparations were made. Such as pertained to the ceremony and their +future life they would make together when Tris returned home. Never +had father, and mother, and daughter, been so happy and so closely +one. Joan had grown young again. John sang from morning to night. +Denas had the loveliness of love transfiguring the loveliness of mere +physical beauty. It was busy all and happy all within the Penelles' +cottage during those days of expectation. + +One morning Joan was going through the whole house before the grand +final preparations, and for some reason she opened a closet usually +little regarded--a closet full of those odds and ends families do not +like to destroy. The first thing she lifted was that picture of Denas +as "Mademoiselle Denasia in Pinafore." It had been her pride and +comfort in sorrowful days now overpast, and she laid it upon the table +and stood looking at it. Denas entered the room while this act of +tender reminiscence was going on. She did not at first perceive or +understand the object of it. But when she reached her mother's side +and saw the yellow, faded presentment, her face flushed crimson, and +with flashing eyes she covered the picture with her hands. + +"Why did you keep it? Oh, mother, how could you!" + +"Aw, then, Denas, 'twas my only comfort many a day and many a time. +Don't take it away--Denas! Denas!" + +"I will not have it in the house--'tis a shame to me; it breaks my +heart; how could you, mother?" and she drew the paper away, and +walking to the fire, threw it upon the coals. It burned slowly, +browning gradually from the dancing feet to the tips of the fingers +meeting above the head. + +With a white, sad face she watched it burn to a brown film that the +upward draught of the chimney carried out of her sight. Joan also +watched the immolation, and she was a little angry at it. That picture +of Mademoiselle Denasia was one of Joan's secret idols. No one likes +to watch the destruction of their idols, and Joan was hardly pacified +by the kisses and loving words with which Denas extenuated her act. +For an hour or two she had an air of injury. She had been in the habit +of showing this picture with an air of serious secrecy and with many +sighs to any new acquaintance or strange visitor, and its destruction +really put a stop to this clandestine bit of egotism; for who would +believe such an improbable story without the pictured Denasia to prove +it? + +Denas regarded the incident as a happy omen. As she watched the +picture turn to cinder, she buried fathoms deep below the tide of her +present life all the restless, profitless, half-regretful memories it +represented. A word or two said by the preacher the day he visited her +school had clung to her consciousness as a burr clings to wool. They +were speaking of the education necessary for the class of children +gathered there, and Denas, after naming the studies pursued, said: +"They are sufficient for the life before them;" then, with an +involuntary sigh, she added, "It is a very narrow life." + +And perhaps the minister had heard something of her story, for he +answered gravely: "God knows just where He wants every soul. That is +the life, that is the school, for that soul, and no life is too +narrow. The humblest will afford + + "'The common round, the trivial task + Which furnish all we ought to ask-- + Room to deny ourselves.' + +Mrs. Tresham, that is the grand lesson we are sent here to learn; +self-denial, as against self-pleasing and self-assertion." + +Denas only said, "Yes, sir;" but she took the words into her heart +and found herself repeating them a hundred times a day. + +Tris came home just before Easter. The spring was in his heart, the +spring was in his life and love. The winds, the young trees, the +peeping crocus-buds, were part and parcel of Denas and of his hopes in +her. What charming walks they took to their home! What suggestions and +improvements and alterations they made! No two young thrushes, +building their first nest, could have been more interested and more +important. Mr. and Mrs. Arundel had remained in town for the Easter +holidays, and Tris was very nearly lord of all his time. He rather +thought Mr. Arundel had purposely left him so at this happy epoch, and +the idea gave him the more pleasure in his light duties. + +There was a great deal of good-natured discussion about the proper +date for this wonderful wedding. Tris acted as if it was the first +wedding in the world. He was sure everyone in St. Penfer and St. Clair +would be disappointed beyond comfort unless they had a chance to be +present. He thought, therefore, that Easter Sunday would be the day of +days in this respect. All the boats would be in harbour. All the women +and children would have their new gowns and bonnets on. There would be +a special service in the chapel--and then, finally: + +"The house be ready, mother, and I be ready, and Denas be ready, and +what are we waiting for?" + +And as John, and Joan, and Tris were of one mind, what could Denas do +but be of the same mind? After all, the great anxiety was the +weather. The restless way in which Tris queried of the winds and +watched the clouds almost made John angry. "You do be enough to beckon +a storm, Tris," he cried. "Let be! Let be!" Yet for all that John +himself walked oftener to his door than was his custom, and looked +seaward and windward in a furtive kind of way, very amusing to the +women, who saw clearly through his anxiety. + +But even the weather sometimes comes up to our hopes and is even +better than our expectations. Easter Sunday broke in a royal mood of +sunshine. There was not a breath of wind; the sea was like a sea of +sapphire sprinked with incalculable diamonds; the boats lay lazily +swinging on the tide-top; the undercliff was in its Easter green and +white. The lark set the bride-song going, and so woke up the thrush, +and the thrush called to the blackbird, and the woods soon rang with +music. + +The ceremony was to be in the St. Clair chapel, and at nine o'clock +Tris came in the yacht's boat for his bride and her parents. The boat +had been freshly painted white. The four sailors who were to row her +were in snow-white duck and blue caps and kerchiefs. Tris had on his +best uniform--blue broadcloth and gilt buttons. Tris was handsome +enough and proud and happy enough to have set off a fisher's suit of +blue flannel; but he trod like a prince and looked like a young +sea-god in his splendid array. + +It had been thought best for the bride to go to St. Clair by sea. +There was no carriage available, and the walk to St. Clair was long +and apt to be wet from the last tide. And nobody wanted the +bride-dress to be soiled. Besides which, the sea-way gave the St. +Penfer people an opportunity to set her off with waving kerchiefs and +a thousand good wishes; and it also gave the people of St. Clair an +opportunity to welcome her in the same manner. Those who did not know +about such things and who were wickedly reckless concerning signs and +omens--which sailor and fisher folk never are--said this seaward road +to the church might have been avoided and the bride's gown kept +sweetly fresh and unruffled by Denas simply dressing in her own house. +But Denas knew well that it was unlucky; for the bride in her +bride-dress must go into her house before she comes out of it. + +The chapel was crowded up to the pulpit steps, all but John's pew, +which was empty until the bride's party took possession of it. It was +a sight to make men and women happy only to look at Joan Penelles' +face. John tried to preserve a grave look, but Joan beamed upon every +man and woman present. When the little stir of their entrance had +subsided, then the Easter service went joyously on. It was known that +the wedding was to be solemnized between the sermon and the +benediction, and though the sermon was a very good one, all thought it +a little long that morning. For there is something about a bridal, and +a bride, and a bridegroom, that is perennially fresh and young. + +But at length the happy moment arrived. Tris rose and offered his hand +to Denas. Then Denas also rose and let her long cloak fall down, and +put her bonnet off her head, and walked by Tris' side to the +communion table. John and Joan proudly followed. All with curious +interest watched the bride, for few then present had ever seen a bride +so bride-like. And well might the handsome sailor be proud of her as +she stood beside him robed in white, lustrous silk, with lilies at her +breast and the gleam of scarlet corals in her fair hair and at her +white throat. + +Let those who have been so blessed as to live through such moments +imagine them. And, alas! for those who cannot say with a smile, "I +know; I know." In this marriage, the bride and bridegroom's joy was +doubled by being so enthusiastically shared. It was not only the +preacher who gave them the benediction; they walked through an +atmosphere so full of kindness and good-will and good wishes that they +could do nothing at all but smile, and smile, and smile again to the +"God bless you, dears," which greeted them at every step. + +Then the clerk spread open the book and the preacher put the pen into +the bride's hand. She looked at her husband; she looked at her mother; +she hesitated a moment, and then wrote boldly--not Denasia--but-- + +"_Denas._" + +Neither father nor mother disputed the name. They certified it with +their own names, and then passed with their children into the +sunshine. The congregation were waiting outside. They parted and made +a way between them for the bride and the bridegroom to take; and so +standing there, watched them go hand-in-hand up the hillside to the +pretty vine-covered house which was to be their future home. To mortal +eyes they seemed to walk alone, but they did not. They had right +welcome company, for-- + + "Love took them softly by the hand, + Love led them through their own dear door, + And showed them in the sea and land + Beauty they had not known before-- + Never before: O Love! sweet Love! + + "And now it cannot pass away; + They see it wheresoe'er they go; + And in their hearts by night and day + Its gladness singeth to and fro, + By night and day: O Love! sweet Love!" + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber Notes + +Typographical inconsistencies have been changed and are listed below. + +Hyphenation standardized. + +Otherwise, archaic and variable spelling is preserved, including +Rosetti/Rossetti and Giberaltar. Author's punctuation style is also +preserved. + +Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. + +Passages in bold indicated by =equal signs=. + + +Transcriber Changes + +The following changes were made to the original text: + + Page 25: Was 'wth' (She sat down in a large chair =with= her back to + the light and shut her eyes.) + + Page 93: Added double quote (Some will never come back =again!'"=) + + Page 98: Added period (with such evident enjoyment that she gave an + appetite to the =others.=) + + Page 98: Was 'Bobert' (After breakfast =Robert= Burrell said he + would delay his visit) + + Page 154: Was 'guiver' (It made his brown face blanch and his + strong, stern mouth =quiver= with mental anguish.) + + Page 174: Was 'beatiful' (her open throat, and =beautiful= bare arms + lifted to the basket upon her head) + + Page 207: Was 'indorsed' (of that brutal conservatism which makes + Englishmen suspicious of everything not =endorsed= by + centuries of use and wont.) + + Page 297: Was 'ocupations' (She looked for no extraordinary thing, + for no special favour to brighten their uniform + =occupations= and simple pleasures.) + + Page 308: Was 'sayng' ("La! my dear, the love in Tris' heart was a + trouble to you. You were =saying= that often.") + + Page 344: Was 'fom' (and the walk to St. Clair was long and apt to + be wet =from= the last tide.) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Singer from the Sea, by +Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SINGER FROM THE SEA *** + +***** This file should be named 29909.txt or 29909.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/9/0/29909/ + +Produced by Katherine Ward and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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