A Singer from the Sea. Amelia E. Barr

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СКАЧАТЬ could think of half-a-dozen things which Roland might have accomplished. How long the hours were! How would she ever get the days over? Her mother singing in the curing-shed made her angry. The ticking of the big clock accentuated her nervous irritability, and when John returned silent and with that air about him which indicated the master of the house, Denas felt surely that all was over for the present between her and Roland Tresham.

      The night became blustery after John and the men had gone to the fishing, and by midnight there was 50 a storm. Joan’s white, anxious face was peering through the windows or out of the open door into the black night continually. And the presence of Denas did not comfort her, as it usually did; the mother felt that her child’s thoughts were with strangers, and not with her father out on the stormy sea.

      It was ten o’clock next morning before John got home. He had made a little harbour some miles off, and glad to make it, and had been compelled to lay there until daybreak. He was weary and silent. He said it would have gone hard with him had not Tris been at his right hand. Then he looked anxiously at Denas, and when she did not give him a smile or a word, he sat down by the fire much depressed and exhausted. For he saw that his child had a hard, angry heart toward him, and he felt how useless it was to try and explain or justify his dealings with her.

      It was now Wednesday, and Denas burned with shame when she thought how readily she had listened to so careless a lover. No word of any kind came from Elizabeth, who indeed was not to blame under the circumstances. Mr. Burrell was much with her; they had a hundred delightful arrangements to make about their marriage and their future housekeeping. And if in these days Elizabeth was a little proud and important and very much interested in her own affairs, she was innocently so. She was only exhibiting the natural parade of a lovely bud spreading itself into a perfect flower.

      She had not the slightest intention of being unkind 51 to Denas; indeed, she looked forward to many pleasant hours with her and to her assistance in all the preparations for her marriage. And Roland had introduced the subject quite as frequently as he felt it to be prudent. Finally Elizabeth had plainly told him that she did not intend to have Denas with her until he returned to London. “I see you so seldom, Roland,” she said, “and we will not have any stranger intermeddling when you are at home.”

      “Come, Elizabeth,” he answered, “you are putting up your disapprovals in the shape of compliments. My dear, you are afraid I will fall in love with Denas.”

      “I am afraid you will make love to her, which is a very different thing.”

      “Do you want Denas here?”

      “I shall be glad to have her here. I have a great deal of sewing to do, and she is a perfect and rapid needlewoman.”

      “Then go to-morrow and ask her to come. I am off to London to-night. In this world no one has pleasure but he who gives himself some. You were my only pleasure at St. Penfer, and I do not care to share your society with Robert Burrell.”

      “I will go and see Denas. I must ask her parents to let her stay with me until my marriage.”

      But as Denas did not know of this intention, that weary Wednesday dragged itself away amid rain and storm and household dissatisfaction; 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 52 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 protégée’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 53 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 do send her a good man to love her. It be a great honour to Denas to have your love, but there then! your brother is a fine, handsome young man, and––no offence, miss––it would not be a great honour for my little maid to have his love or the likelihood of it––and out of temptation is out of danger, miss, and if so be I do speak plain and bluff, you will not put it down against me, I’ll warrant.”

      “I think, Mr. Penelles, that you are quite right. I have felt all you say for two years, and have shielded the honour and the happiness of Denas as 54 if she was in very deed my sister. Can you not trust her with me now?”

      “ ’Tis a great charge, miss.”

      “I am glad to take it. I will keep it for you faithfully.”

      “ ’Tis too much to ask, miss; ’twould be a constant charge, for wrong-doing is often a matter of a few moments, though the repentance for it may last a lifetime.”

      “Roland is in London. He went yesterday. I do not expect him to come to St. Penfer again until the wedding. I assure you of this, Mr. Penelles.”

      “Then your word for it, Miss Tresham. Take my little maid with you. She be my life, miss. If Denas was hurt any way ’twould be like I got a shot in my backbone; ’twould be as bad for her mother, likewise for poor Tris Penrose.”

      Elizabeth smiled. “I am glad to hear there is a lover; Denas never told me of him. Is he good and brave, and handsome and young, and well-to-do?”

      “He be all these, and more too; for he do love the ground Denas treads on––he do for sure.”

      Denas was in her room putting on her blue merino and her hat, and while she made her small arrangements and talked to her mother, Elizabeth set herself to win the entire confidence of John Penelles. It was not a hard thing to do. Evil and sin had to be present and palpable for John’s honest heart СКАЧАТЬ