r expectations in this respect were more than gratified. Every hour
of the day brought something to discuss, to exclaim over, to wonder
about, to select, to try on. Notes and flowers, and sweetmeats, and
presents of all kinds were continually reminding Elizabeth of her
lover; and she grew beautiful and generous in the sunshine of such a
magnificent love. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed like a happy
dream. On Saturday evening Denas was to return home until after the
Sabbath. For Saturday night and Sunday were John's holiday, and a poor
one indeed it would be to him without his daughter. Nor was Denas
averse to go home. She looked forward to the pleasure of telling her
mother everything she had seen and done; she looked forward to going
to chapel with her father, and showing a pretty hat and collar and a
pair of kid gloves which Elizabeth had given her.

About five o'clock she started down the cliff. Her heart was light in
spite of Roland's silence. Indeed, she had begun to feel a contempt
for him and greater contempt for herself because she had for a moment
believed in a man so light of love and so false of heart. Elizabeth's
affairs were full of interest to her. Elizabeth had been so sisterly
and kind. She had paid her well and promised her many things that made
life seem full of hope to the ambitious fisher-girl. How the birds did
sing! How still the green glades were! In that one week of rain and
sunshine, how the leaves had grown!

She went gayly forward, humming softly to herself--none of the songs
Roland sang with her, but a little love-song Elizabeth had learned
from Robert Burrell. Her foot had that spring to its lift and fall
that shows there is a young innocent heart above it. In and out among
the glades she went, almost as brightly and musically as the brook
whose sparkling and darkling course she followed. When but a few
hundred yards down the path, someone called her. She thought it was a
fancy and went onward, nevertheless feeling a sudden silence and
trouble. Immediately she heard footsteps and the rustling swish of
parting leaves and branches.

Then she stood still and looked toward the place of disturbance. A
moment afterward Roland Tresham was at her side. He took her hand; he
said softly, "This way, darling!" and before she could make the
slightest resistance he had drawn her into a little glade shut in by
large boulders and lofty trees. Then he had his arms around her, and
was laughing and ta