ected John to bring back the proofs of
her child's marriage, and in that expectation she bore without
weakening the slant eye, and the shrugged shoulder, and the denying
looks of her neighbours. And of course John found no minister in
Exeter who had married Denas Penelles and Roland Tresham; and it
never once struck him that Denas had been married in Plymouth and
found no time to write until she reached Exeter. Neither did Joan
think of such a possibility; yet when her husband came in without a
word and sat down with a black, stubborn face, she knew that he had
been disappointed.

That night John held his peace, even from good; and Joan felt that for
once she must do the same. So they sat together without candle,
without speech, bowed to the earth with shame, feeling with bitter
anguish that their old age had been beggared of love, and honour, and
hope, and happiness; and, alas! so beggared by the child who had been
the joy and the pride of their lives.

At the same hour Denas sat with Roland in one of the fine restaurants
to be found in High Holborn. They had eaten of the richest viands, the
sparkle of the champagne cup was in both their eyes, and they were
going anon to the opera. Denas had a silk robe on and a little pink
opera cloak. Her long pale gloves and her bouquet of white roses were
by her side. Roland was in full evening dress. Their eyes flashed;
their cheeks flamed with pleasant anticipations. They rose from their
dinner with smiles and whispered love-words; and Roland ordered with
the air of a lord, "A carriage for the opera."

From John and Joan these events were mercifully hidden. It is only God
who can bear the awful light of omniscience and of omnipresence. The
things we cannot see! The things we never know! Let us be unspeakably
grateful for this blessed ignorance! For many a heart would break that
lives on if it only knew--if it only saw--how unnecessary was its love
to those it loves so fondly!

CHAPTER IX.

A PIECE OF MONEY AND A SONG.

"Tis but a Judas coin, though it be gold;
The price of love forsworn, 'tis full of fears
And griefs for those who dare to hold;
And leaves a stain, only washed clean with tears."

"Behold and listen while the fair
Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air;
She raised her voice so high, and sang so clear,
At every close she made the attending throng
Replied, and bore the burthen of the song;
So just, so small, yet in so sweet a