sure that it
was Tris who brought the sunshine, and so, when he went, took it away
with him.

But after this night there was a different atmosphere in John
Penelles' cottage. John's unhappiness had been mainly caused by the
sight of his wife's anxiety and sorrow; and if Joan was her old self,
John was not the man to let the loss of his boat and his position make
him miserable. For in this little cottage the wife held the same
mighty power that the wife holds in all finer homes--the power to
either make her husband weak and sorrowful or to strengthen his heart
for anything. When Joan smiled, then John could not only enjoy the
present, but he could also bravely face the future. For when a man can
trust in his wife, then he can hope in his God and all things are
possible to him.

Denas also caught the trick of hoping and of being happy. She opened
her school with thirty scholars and found out her vocation. No one
could doubt the voice which had called her to this work; she went to
it as naturally as a bird goes to build its nest. She loved the
children and they loved her. At the end of the first week she found
herself compelled to make her number forty. The sweet authority
pleased her. The children's affection won her. Her natural power to
impart what knowledge she had gave her the sense of a benefaction.
Such loving allegiance! Such bigoted little adherents! Such blind
disciples as Denas had! In a couple of weeks she was the idol of
every child in St. Penfer by the Sea, and as mothers see through
their children, she was equally popular with the children of larger
growth.

One very singular incident of this popularity was the fact that every
child, without special intent, without the slightest thought of
offence, called their beloved teacher Denas Penelles. For a time she
corrected the mistake, but the name Tresham was strange and
unfamiliar. They looked at her with wide-open eyes and then went back
to the old word. Denas perceived that they heard her called Penelles
in their homes, and that it was useless to take offence where none was
intended. Yet the inferred wrong to her dead husband wounded her and
rekindled in her heart the fire of old affection.

"They want me to forget his very name," she thought angrily, and the
natural result was a determination to nurse with greater fondness the
memory which time and circumstances were daily doing their best to
efface.

In the mean time all had been going on satisfacto