heard on it the beat of
their little pattering, naked feet, and wished that they could have
been children upon the shore for ever, and ever, and evermore.

"I do not think that would have been nice at all, Tris," answered
Denas. "It is better to be grown up. You were only good to play with
then. I could not have asked you to go and buy a boat for father,
could I?"

And Tris looked at her sweet, pale face, and noting how the pink
colour rushed into her cheeks to answer his looks, thought how right
she was, and that it was much better to have Denas a woman to be loved
than a child to be played with.

And somehow, after this, they had no more words to say, and Tris
walked at her side under his old embarrassment of silence. Nor could
Denas talk. If she tried to do so, then she raised her eyes, and then
Tris' eyes looking into hers seemed to reproach her for the words she
did not say. And if she kept her eyes on the shingle, she still felt
Tris to be looking at her, questioning her, loving her just as he used
to do--and she could not bear it--never! never! At the first
opportunity she must make Tris understand that they could only be
friends--friends only--and nothing, positively nothing more.

FOOTNOTE:

[4] The effect of this Cornish sentiment upon the Cornish heart is
mighty, as it is past reasoning about. A Cornish friend of mine
was in a silver mine among the Andes, and looking at the big,
bearded men around, he suddenly called out "ONE and ALL!" In an
instant four of the men had dropped their tools and were holding
his hands in as brotherly fashion as if the tie of blood was
between them. It is, indeed, one of those shibboleths of race
which move the soul to its most ancient depths. The malign
influences which destroy even the domestic affections touch not
the deeper sense of race. Age only increases its intensity, and
being a purely unselfish love, we may believe that it survives
death and claims the heritage of eternity.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE "DARLING DENAS."

"... Good the more
Communicated, the more abundant grows."
--MILTON.

"So the boat was built. Aw, they wouldn't be hoult;
And every trennel and every boult
The best of stuff. Aw, didn' considher
The 'spense nor nothin'--not a fig!
And three lugs at her--that was the rig--
And raked a bit, three reg'lar scutcher