"John," she whispered, with her face against his face--"John! My
John! My good heart, be yourself and tell Joan what is the matter.
Is it sickness of your body, John? Is it trouble of your mind, John?
Be a man, and speak to God and to me. God is our refuge and our
strength--think o' that. A very present help in trouble--present, not
a long way off, John, not in heaven; but here in your heart and on
your hearth. Oh, John! John! do speak to me."

"To be sure, Joan! The letter, dear; read it--read it aloud--I may be
mistaken--it isn't possible, I'm sure. God help us both!"

Joan lifted the letter and read aloud the words written so hastily in
a few moments of time, but which brought to two loving hearts years of
anxious sorrow:

"'DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER:--I have just been married to Roland
Tresham, and we are on our way to London. I love Roland so much, I
hope you will forgive me. I will write more from London. Your
loving child,

"'DENAS TRESHAM.'"

"Oh, Joan, my dear! My heart be broken! My heart be broken! My heart
be broken!"

"Now, John, don't you be saying such wisht dismal, ugly words. A heart
like yours is hard to break. Not even a bad daughter can do it. Oh, my
dear, don't you talk like that there! Don't, John."

"'Tis the Lord's will, Joan--I do know that."

"It be nothing of the kind, John. It be the devil's will when a child
do wrong such love as yours and mine. And there, now! Will you break
your brave old heart, that has faced death a hundred times, for the
devil? No, 'tis not like to be, I'm sure. Look at the worst of it.
Denas does say she be married. She does write her name with his name.
What then? Many a poor father and mother have drunk the cup we be
drinking--nothing strange have come to us."

"I do not believe she be the man's wife."

"Aw, my dear, I do believe it. And Denas be my daughter, and I will
not let you or any other man say but that she be all of an honest
woman. 'Tis slander against your awn flesh and blood to say different,
John." And Joan spoke so warmly that her temper had a good effect upon
her husband. It was like a fresh sea-breeze. He roused himself and sat
upright, and began to listen to his wife's words.

"Denas be gone away--gone away for ever from us--never more our little
maid--never more! All this be true. But, John, her heart was gone a
long time ago. Our poor ways were her scorn; she have gone to her awn,
my dear, and we could not keep her. 'Tis li