him, father. He has been in a
great many offices. I have heard Elizabeth speaking of many a one."

"I'll warrant--many a one--and he never stays in any. He has a bad
temper for work."

"Bad temper! That is not true. Mr. Roland has a very good temper."

"Good temper! To be sure, after a fashion, a kind of _Hy-to-everybody_
fashion. But a good business temper, Denas, be a different thing; it
be steady, patient, civil, quiet, hard-to-work temper, and the young man
has not got it. No, nor the shadow of it. If he was worth thousands
this year he wouldn't have a farthing next year unless he had a
guider and a withholder by his side constantly."

"You ought not to speak of Mr. Roland at all, father, you hate him
that badly."

"Right you be, Denas. I ought not to speak of the young man. I will
let him alone. And I'll thank every one in my house to do the same
thing."

For some weeks John's orders were carefully observed. Denas got no
more letters, and the summer weather became autumn weather; and then
the leaves faded and began to fall, and the equinoctial storm set the
seal of advancing winter on the cliff-breast. Yet through all these
changes the clock ticked the monotonous days surely away, and one
morning when Denas was standing alone in the cottage door a little lad
slipped up and put a letter into her hand.

He was gone in a moment, and Denas, even while answering a remark of
her mother's, who was busy at the fireside, hid the message in her
bosom. Of course it was from Roland. He said that they had all
returned to Burrell Court and that he could not rest until he had seen
her. Wet or fine, he begged she would be at their old trysting-place
that evening.

Then she began to consider how this was to be managed, and she came to
the conclusion that a visit to St. Penfer was the best way. She knew
well how to prepare for it--the little helps, and confidences, and
personal chatter Joan was always pleased and flattered by were the
wedge. Then as they washed the dinner dishes and tidied the house
together, Denas said:

"Mother, it is going to storm soon, and then whole days to sit and sew
and nothing to talk about. Priscilla Mohun promised me some pretty
pieces for my quilt, and Priscilla always knows everything that is
going on. What do you think? Shall I go there this afternoon? I could
get the patches and hear the news and bring back a story paper, and so
be home before you would have time to miss me."

"Well, m