s?"

"Denas do know her mother's heart and her father's heart, and when
she do find it in her own heart to leave that sinful place--the
the-a-tre--and dress herself like a decent wife and a good woman, and
sing for God and not for the devil, and sing for love and not for
money, aw, then, who will love her as quick and as warm as I will? But
if you do want a message, tell her she have broken her good father's
life in two; and that I do blame myself I ever gave her suck!"

Roland listened to these words with a scoffing air of great amusement;
he looked steadily at Joan with a smile that was intolerable to her,
then he raised his hat with an elaborate flourish and said:

"Good-morning, Mrs. Penelles."

No notice was taken of this salute, and he added with an offensive
mirthfulness:

"Perhaps I ought to say, 'Good-morning, mother.'"

Then Joan leaped to her feet as if she had been struck in the face.
She kicked the nets from her and strode to the open door in a flaming
passion.

"Aw, then!" she cried, "not your mother, thank God! Not your mother,
or you'd be in the boats making your awn living. You! you cruel,
cowardly, lazy, lounging, bad lot! Living on my poor little girl, you
be! You vampire! Living on her body and soul."

"Madam, where is Mr. Penelles?"

"Aw, to be sure. Well you knew he wasn' here, or you would never have
put foot this road. And no madam I be, but honest Joan Penelles. Go!
The Pender men are near by. Go!--and the Trefy men, and Jack
Penhelick, and Reuben Trewillow. Go!--they are close by, I tell you.
Go!--if I call they'll come. Go!--or they will know the reason why!"

Then, still smiling and knocking the end of his cigar against the end
of his cane, Roland leisurely took the road to the cliff. But Joan, in
her passionate sense of intolerable wrong, flung up her arms toward
heaven, and with tears and sobs her cry went up:

"O my God! Look down and see what sin this Roland Tresham be doing!"

CHAPTER XI.

FATHERLY AND MOTHERLY.

"In youth change appears to be certain gain;
Age knows that it is generally certain loss."

"The worst wounds are those our own hands inflict."

"Like as a father pitieth his children."

"A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive."
--COLERIDGE.

Ten days of the methodical serenity of Burrell Court wearied Roland,
and with money in his pocket the thought of Londo