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 h