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