me picture paper
years ago--a rhyme that so pathetically glanced at love that dwelt
between life and death that she never could see a group of fishermen's
wives on the pier watching the boats outside without saying it to
herself:

"They gazed on the boats from the pier, ah, me!
Till their sails swelled in the wind,
Till darkness dropped down over the sea
And their eyes with tears were blind.
Then home they turned, and they never spoke,
These daughters and wives of the fisher-folk."

But years and experience had taught her the falsehood of extremes; she
knew now that life has many intermediate colours between lamp-black
and rose-pink, and that if the fisherman's wife had hours of anxious
watching, she had also many hours of such rapturous love as comes
sparingly to others--love that is the portion of those who come back
from the very grave with the shadow of death on their face.

In the autumn Tris returned for a few days, but he was so busy that he
could not leave the yacht. She was being provisioned and put in order
for the long Mediterranean winter voyage, and Tris was in constant
demand. But John and Joan and Denas walked over to St. Clair to bid
him good-bye. And never had Tris looked so handsome and so manly. His
air of authority became him. In a fishing-boat men are equal, but on
this lordly pleasure-boat it was very different. Tris said to one man
go and to another come, and they obeyed him with deference and
alacrity. This masterful condition impressed Denas greatly. She
thought of Tris with a respect which promised far more than mere
admiration for his beauty or his picturesque dress.

After Tris was gone the winter came rapidly, but Denas did not dread
it. Neither did John nor Joan. John looked upon his boat as a
veritable godsend. What danger could come to him on a craft so
blessed? All her takes were large and fortunate. The other boats
thought it lucky to sail in her wake. On whatever side the _Darling
Denas_ cast her bait, they knew it was right to cast on that side
also.

Joan was happy in her husband's happiness; she was happy in her
unstinted housekeeping; she was now particularly happy in Denas'
school. The little lads and lasses brought all their news, all their
joys and sorrows to Denas; and when Denas went home every day, Joan,
with her knitting in her hands, was waiting to give her a dainty meal
and to chat with her over all she had heard and all she had done.

And Denas w