for
an hour Roland delighted his sister by his sensible consideration, by
his patient attention to some uninteresting details, by his prudence
in speaking of the future; so that Robert said confidentially to his
wife that night:

"Roland is a delightful young man. There must be some niche he can
fill with honour. I wonder that Caroline could resist his attentions.
Yet she told me to-day that she had refused him twice."

"Caroline is moved by her intellect, not by her heart. Also, she is
very Vere-de-Vereish, and she has set her mark for a lord, at least."

"What can be done for Roland?"

"He talked of going into the army."

"Nonsense! Going into the army means, for Roland, going into every
possible temptation and expense--that would not do. But he ought to be
away from this little town. He will be making mischief if he cannot
find it ready-made."

"I am very uneasy about that girl from the fishing village, the girl
whom I used to have with me a great deal."

"Denas--the girl with the wonderful voice?"

"Yes. Did you think her voice wonderful?"

"Perhaps I should say haunting voice. She had certainly some unusual
gift. I do not pretend to be able to define it. But I remember every
line of the first measure I heard her sing. Many a time since I have
thought my soul was singing it for its own pleasure, without caring
whether I liked it or not; for when mentally reckoning up a
transaction I have heard quite distinctly the rhythmical rolling
cadence, like sea wave, to which the words were set. I hear it now."

"Upon my word, Robert, you are very complimentary to Denas. I shall be
jealous, my dear."

"Not complimentary to Denas at all. I hardly remember what the girl
looked like. And it is not worth while being jealous of a voice, for I
can assure you, Elizabeth, a haunting song is a most unwelcome visitor
when your brain is full of figures. And somehow it generally managed
to come at a time when the bank and the street were both in a tumult
with the sound of men's voices, the roll of wagons, and the tramp of
horses' feet."

"A song of the sea in the roar of the city! How strange! I am curious
to hear it: I have forgotten most of the songs Denas sang."

"The roar of the city appeared to provoke it. When it was loudest I
usually heard most clearly the sweet thrilling echo, asking

"'What is the tale of the sea, mother?
What is the tale of the wide, wide sea?'
'Merry and sad are the tales, my darling