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 lette