osed the book together--one look as he
held her hand on the door-step, and she knew more than words could
ever have said. She saw through his eyes to the bottom of his clear,
honest soul, and she knew that he loved her as men love who find in
one woman only the song of life, the master-key of all their being.

She expected Tris would come and see her the next day, but Ann
Trewillow brought word that he had sailed with Mr. Arundel. Tris had
been expecting the order, and the yacht had only been waiting for
guests who had suddenly arrived. Denas was rather pleased. She was not
yet ready to admit a new love. She felt that in either refusing or
accepting Tris' affection she would be doing both herself and Tris an
injustice. A love that does not spring into existence perfect needs
cautious tending; too much sunshine, too much care, too constant
watching will slay it. There must be time given for it to grow.

Without reasoning on the matter, Denas felt that absence would be a
good thing. She was afraid of being driven by emotion or by
circumstances into a mistaken position. And she had now an absorbing
interest in her life. Her school was a delight. No consideration of
money qualified her pleasure in her pupils. She was eager to teach all
she knew. She was eager to learn, that she might teach more. As the
weeks went by her school got a local fame; it was considered a great
privilege to obtain a place in it.

Good fortune seemed to have come to St. Penfer by the Sea when
Denas came back to it. Never had there been a more abundant
sea-harvest than that summer. The _Darling Denas_ brought luck to
the whole fleet. She was a swift sailer, always first on the
fishing-ground and always first in harbour again; and it was a great
pleasure to Denas to watch her namesake leading out and leading home
the brown-sailed bread-winners of the hamlet. When the time and the
tide and the weather all served, Denas might now often be seen, with
her mother and the rest of the fishermen's wives, standing on the
wind-blown pier watching the boats out in the evening.

There had been a time when she had positively declined the loving
ceremony--when she had hated the thought of any community in such
feelings--when the large brown faces of the wives and mothers and the
sad patience of their attitude had seemed to her only the visible
signs of a poor and sorrowful life. And even yet, as she stood among
them she was haunted by a rhyme she had read in so