ow of money will be the result. You
must have read of the enormous sums singers receive, but we will be
modest at first and suppose you only make a few hundreds a year. In
the long run that will be nothing; and you will be a very rich
woman."

"You have often said such things to me, Roland. But perhaps you do not
judge me severely enough. I must see a great teacher, and he will tell
me the truth."

"To be sure. And you must have lessons also."

"And for these things there must be money."

"Certainly. I have upward of five hundred pounds and you have one
hundred at least."

"I have nothing, Roland."

"The money you told me of in St. Merryn's Bank."

"I cannot touch that."

"Why?"

"Because I will not. Father has been saving it ever since I was born.
If he is sick it is all he has to live upon. It is bad enough to
desert my parents; I will not rob them also."

"You must not look at things in such extreme ways. You are going to
spend money in order to make a fortune."

"I will not spend father's money--the fortune may never come."

"Then there is my money. You are welcome to every penny of it. All I
have is yours. I only live for you."

"To say such things, Roland, is the way to marry me--if you mean to
marry me--is it not? Among the fishermen it is so, only they would say
first of all, 'I do wish to be your husband.'"

"I am not a fisherman, Denas. And it would really be very dishonourable
to bind your fortune irrevocably to mine. In a couple of years you
would be apt to say: 'Roland played me a mean trick, for he made me
his wife only that he might have all the money I earn.' Don't you
see what a dreadful position I should be in? I should be ashamed to
show my face. Really, dearest, I must look after my honour. My
money--that is nothing."

"Roland, if honour and money cannot go together, there is something
wrong. If I went to London alone and you were also in London and
paying for my lessons, do you know what everyone would say in St.
Penfer? Do you know what they would call me?"

"Why need you care for a lot of old gossips--you, with such a grand
future before you?"

"I do care. I care for myself. I care a thousand times more for father
and mother. A word against my good name would kill them. They would
never hold up their heads any more. And then, however bad a name the
public gave me, I should give myself a worse one; I should indeed!
Night and day my soul would never cease saying to me: 'Denas