s whole
future hung now on her support and interest in his American scheme,
moved Denasia to concede where she felt sure she ought to have
refused. But when a man finds all other arguments fail with a woman,
he has only to throw himself upon her unselfishness. To prove it, she
will ruin her own life. Denasia was sure she was going a wrong road,
but then Roland asked her to take it for his sake, and to show her
love for him she offered up her own hopes and desires, and offered
them with smiles and kind words and an affected belief that the change
might be as good for her reputation as for her husband's. She did
indeed--as good women do a kindness--surrender herself entirely, and
pretended that the surrender was her own desire and her husband's
complaisance a thing he deserved praise for.

However, Roland's enthusiasms were undoubtedly partly contagious. Even
Denasia, who had so often been deceived, was partly under their
influence. His words had caught something of the vastness of the land
of his hopes, and he talked so ambitiously and with so much certainty
that the untravelled woman caught his fever once more. Then she also
suffered the idea of America to fascinate her, and she permitted
Roland to bring his new friends to see her, for she desired to be
entirely possessed by the idea which was now to be the ruling motive
of their lives. It was decided that they should sail about the middle
of June. "We shall then have time to become familiar with the country,
and we need not be in a hurry to decide about engagements. Hurry is
such a mistake," said Roland with oracular wisdom. And Denasia hoped
and smiled, and then turned away to hide the sudden frown and sigh.
For the heart is difficult to deceive, and Denasia's heart warned her
morning, noon, and night. But to what purpose? Who heeds the warning
from their higher selves? Though one rose from the dead to point out a
fatal mistake, how many would heed the messenger? For when love says,
"This is the way," wisdom, fate, death itself may speak in vain.

About a week before the voyage, Roland said one night: "I think now,
Denasia, that we have everything packed, I shall run down to St.
Penfer and see my sister. I may never come back from America. Indeed,
I do not think I shall ever want to come back, and I really ought to
bid Elizabeth good-bye. She will doubtless also remember me in money
matters, and in a strange country money is always a good friend. Is it
not, dear? Wh