ak 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, dancin