alked about the sanded floor of his cottage, and
thought over the heads of his sermon. For he was to preach that night
in the little chapel of St. Swer, a fishing hamlet four miles to the
northward; indeed, John preached very often, being a local preacher
in the circuit of St. Penfer, and rather famous for his ready, short
sermons, full of the breath of the sea and of the savour of the
fisher's life upon it.

Denas had gone to a neighbouring farm for milk. He heard her quick
step on the shingle, and he stood still in the middle of the floor to
meet her. She had on a short dress of pink calico and a square of
blue-and-white-plaided flannel thrown over her head. She came in like
the breath of the spring Sabbath. Her face was rosy, her lovely lips
slightly apart, her blue eyes dewy and soft and bright and brimming
with love. She lifted her face to her father's face, and he forgot in
a moment all his fears. He saw only Denas, and not any of her faults;
if she had faults, he buried them that moment in his love, and they
were all put out of memory.

Roland and the Treshams were not spoken of. John and Joan both had the
fisher's dislike to name a person or a thing they considered unlucky
or unpleasant. "If you name evil you do call evil" was their simple
creed; and it saved many a household worry. They sat down to their
breakfast of tea, and fresh fish, and white loaf, and the wide-open
door let in the sea wind, and the sea smell, and the soft murmur of
the turning tide. John's heart was full of holy joy; he could feel it
singing: "Bless the Lord, O my soul!" And though he was only a poor
Cornish fisher, he was sure that the world was a very good world and
that life was well worth the living.

"Joan, my dear," he said, "the Bible do tell us that there shall be a
new earth. Can it be a sweeter one than this is?"

"Aw, John, it may be a sight better, for we be promised 'there shall
be no sea there,' thank God! no freezing, drowning men and no weeping
wives. I do think of that when you are out in the frost and storm,
John, and the thought be heaven itself."

"My dear, the sea be God's own highway. There be wonders by the sea.
Was not St. John sent to the sea-side for the Revelations? 'Twas there
he heard the angels, whose voices were like the sound of many waters.
Heaven will be wonderful! wonderful! if it do make us forget the sea.
Aw, my dear Joan, 'twill be something added to this earth, not
something taken away, and the