lking a thousand sweet, unreasonable things.

"Oh, Mr. Tresham, let me go! Let me go!" cried Denas.

"Not while you say 'Mr. Tresham.'"

"Oh, Roland!"

"Yes, love, Roland. Say it a thousand times. Did you think I had
forgotten you?"

"You were very cruel."

"Cruel to be kind, Denas. My love! they think I am in London. Everyone
thinks so. I did go to London last Wednesday. I left London this
morning very early. I got off the train at St. Claire and walked
across the cliff, and found out this pretty hiding-place. And I am
going to be here every Saturday night--every Saturday night, wet or
fine, and if you do not come here to see me, I will go to Australia
and never see St. Penfer again."

He would talk nothing but the most extravagant nonsense, and finally
Denas believed him. He gave her a ring that looked very like
Elizabeth's betrothal ring, and was even larger than Elizabeth's, and
he told her to wear it in her breast until she could wear it on her
hand. And for this night, and for many other Saturday nights, he never
named the plot in his shallow head and selfish heart; he devoted
himself to winning completely the girl's absorbing love--not a very
difficult thing to do, for the air of romance and mystery, at once so
charming and so dangerous, enthralled her fancy; his eager, masterful,
caressing wooing made her tremble with a delicious fear and hope; and
in the week's silence and dreaming, the folly of every meeting grew
marvellously.

Nor was the loving, ignorant girl unaffected by the apparently rich
gifts her lover brought her--brooch and locket and bracelet, many
bright and sparkling ornaments, which poor Denas hid away with joy and
almost childish delight and prideful expectations. And if her
conscience troubled her, she assured it that "if it was right for
Elizabeth to receive such offerings of affection, it could not be
wrong for her to do likewise."

Alas! alas! She did not remember that the element of secrecy made the
element of sin. If she had only entertained this thought, it would
have made her understand that the meeting which cannot be known and
the gift which cannot be shown are wicked in their essence and their
influence, and are incapable of bringing forth anything but sorrow and
sin.

CHAPTER IV.

THE SEED OF CHANGE.

"I love thee! I love thee!
'Tis all that I can say;--
It is my vision in the night,
My dreaming in the day."
--HOOD.

"