faction;
but by Thursday morning the elements had blustered their passion away
and the world was clear-skied and sunshiny. Not so Denas; she sat in a
dark corner of the room, cross and silent, and answering her father
and mother only in monosyllables. John's heart was greatly troubled by
her attitude. He stood leaning against the lintel of the door,
watching his boat rocking upon the tide, for he was thinking that
until Denas and he were "in" again he had better stop at home.

"I do leave my heart at home, and then I do lose my head at sea;" and
with this unsatisfactory thought John turned to his daughter and said
softly: "Denas, my dear, 'tis a bright day. Will you have a walk? But
there--here be Miss Tresham, I do know it is her."

Denas rose quickly and looked a moment at the tall, handsome girl
picking her way across the pebbly path. Then she threw down her
knitting and went to meet her, and Elizabeth was pleased and flattered
by her protegee's complaints and welcomes. "I thought you would never
send me a message or a letter," almost sobbed Denas. "I never hoped
you would come. O Elizabeth, how I have longed to see you! Life is so
stupid when I cannot come to your house."

"Why did you not come?"

"Father was afraid of your brother."

"He was right, Denas. Roland is too gay and thoughtless a young man to
be about a pretty girl like you. But he has gone to London, and I do
not think he will come back here until near the wedding-day."

Then they were at the door, and John Penelles welcomed the lady with
all the native grace that springs from a kind heart and from noble
instincts which have become principles. "You be right welcome, Miss
Tresham," he said. "My little maid has fret more than she should have
done for you. I do say that."

"I also missed Denas very much. I have no sister, Mr. Penelles, and
Denas has been something like one to me. I am come to ask you if she
may stay with me until my marriage in June. No one can sew like Denas,
and now I can afford to pay her a good deal of money for her work--for
her love I give her love. No gold pays for love, does it, sir?"

John was pleased with her frankness. He knew the value of money, he
knew also the moral value of letting Denas earn money. He answered
with a candour which brushed away all pretences:

"We be all obliged to you, Miss Tresham. We be all glad that Denas
should make money so happily. It will help her own wedding and
furnishing, whenever God d