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