tried to make her understand
how really noble he had been in his self-denial, and how hard it was
for him to be accused of the very thing he was trying to avoid. And he
looked so injured, with his beautiful eyes full of tears, that Denas
was privately ashamed of herself, and fearful that she had in defence
of her modesty gone beyond proper boundaries.

Then the subject of their marriage was frankly discussed. Roland
was now honest and earnest enough, and yet Denas felt that the
charm of the great question and answer had been lost in considering
it. Spontaneity--that subtle element of all that is lovely and
enchanting--had flown away at the first suspicion of constraint. Some
sweet illusion that had always hung like a halo over this grand
decision evaded her consciousness; the glorious ideal had become a
reality and lost all its enchantments in the change.

After a long discussion, it was finally arranged that Roland should
meet Denas at a small way-station about four miles distant on the
following Monday evening. From there they could take a train to
Plymouth, and at Plymouth there was a Wesleyan minister whom Denas had
seen and who she felt sure would marry them. From Plymouth to Exeter,
Salisbury, and London was a straight road, and yet one which had many
asides and not too easy to follow; though as to any fear of
interruptions, they were hardly worth considering. Denas would leave
her home as usual on Monday morning, and her parents would have no
expectation of seeing her until the following Friday night. By that
time she would be settled in London--she would have been Roland's wife
for nearly four days.

These arrangements were made on Friday night, and on the following
morning Denas went home very early. As she took the cliff-road she
felt that the spirit of change had entered into her heart and her
imagination. The familiar path had become monotonously dreary; she had
a kind of pity for the people who had not her hope of a speedy escape
from it. The desolate winter beach, the lonely boats, the closed
cottages--how inexorably common they looked! She felt that there must
be something in the world better for her than such mean poverty.
Roland's words had indeed induced this utter weariness and contempt
for the conditions of her life, but the conditions themselves were
thus made to give the most eloquent sanction to his advice and
entreaties.

And when a girl has set her face toward a wrong road, nothing is
sadd