A Singer from the Sea Part 4

"Roland, I am going to be married--June the 11th."

"Is that your engagement ring?"

"It is. Mr. Burrell says it was his mother's engagement ring; but, then, gems are all second-hand--a hundred-hand--a thousand-hand for that."

"Burrell! You take my breath away! Burrell! The man who has a bank in Threadneedle Street?"

"The same."

"Good gracious, Elizabeth! You have made all our fortunes! You n.o.ble girl! I did not know he was thinking of you."

"He was waiting for me. Destiny, Roland. But he is a n.o.ble-hearted man, and he loves me and I intend to be a good wife to him. I do indeed. He is going to make a great settlement on me, and I shall have an income of my own from it--all my own, to do what I like with."

"Elizabeth, dear, I always have loved you better than anything else in the world. You will not forget me now, will you, dear?"

"Why, Roland, I thought of you when I accepted Mr. Burrell. When I am married, Roland, I shall manage things for you as you wish them, I daresay. The man loves me so much that I could get not the half, but the whole of his kingdom from him."

"You are the dearest, n.o.blest sister in the world."

"I could not bear to go to sleep without making you as happy as myself. Now, Roland, there is something you must not do, and that is, have any love nonsense with Denas Penelles. At Burrell Court you will meet rich girls and girls of good birth, and your only chance is in a rich marriage--you know it is, Roland."

"Oh, I do not quite think that, Elizabeth."

"Roland, you know it. How many situations have you had and lost? If Mr. Burrell gave you a desk in his bank to-morrow, you would hand back its key before my wedding-day."

"Perhaps; but there are other ways."

"None for you but a rich marriage. Every other way supposes work, and you will not work. You know you will not."

"I have some objections."

"Now, any trouble with a fisherman's daughter would be bad every way.

There is the dislike rich girls have for low amours, and, worse still, the dreadfully Cornish habit fishers have of standing together. If you offend John Penelles or wrong him in the least, you offend and wrong every man in St. Penfer fishing quarter. Do not snap your fingers so scornfully, Roland; you would be no match for a banded enmity like that."

"All this about Denas?"

"Yes; all this about Denas. The girl is a vain little thing, but I do not want to see her breaking her heart about your handsome face."

She drew the handsome face down to her lips and kissed it; and Roland used every charm he possessed in order to deepen his influence over his going-to-be-rich sister. He was already making plain and straight his paths for a certain supremacy at Burrell Court. He was already feeling that a good deal of Robert Burrell's money would come, through Elizabeth's hands, into his pocket. That would be a perfectly legitimate course for it to take. Why should not a loving sister help a loving brother?

And oh, the pity of it! While brother and sister talked only of themselves, Robert Burrell sat silent and happy in his study, planning magnificent generosities for his bride; thinking of her youth, of her innocence, her ignorance of fashionable society, of her affection for and her loyalty to her father and brother, and loving her with all his great honest heart for these very things. And Denas lay dreaming of Roland. And Roland, even while he was talking with Elizabeth about Burrell Court, was holding fast to his intention to degrade Denas. For the singing, dancing, fiddling life which he was to lead with her suited his tastes exactly; he felt it would be the absolutely necessary alterative to the wealthy decorum of Burrell Court.

O Love! what cruelties are done in thy name! We think of thee as coming with a rose, and a song, and a smile. Nay, but the Calydonian Maidens were right when they cried bitterly: "Death should have risen with Love, and Grief, and visible Fear; and there should have been heard a voice of lamentation and mourning, as of many in prison."[2]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] T. E. Brown, M.A.

[2] "Atalanta in Calydon."

CHAPTER III.

THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA.

"O blessed sounds of wiser life Contented with its day, How ye rebuke the inner strife That wears the soul away."

"The Eden we live in is our own heart, And the first thing we do of our free choice Is sure to be sin."

--FESTUS.

John Penelles was one of those strong religious characters whose minds no questions disturb, whose spiritual aspirations are never put out of breath. He had not yet been a yoke-fellow with sorrow. Hard work, the cruelty of the elements, the self-denials of poverty, these things he had known; but love had never smitten him across the heart.

When he rose that Easter Sunday he rose singing. He sang as he put on his chapel broadcloth; he was trying over the different metres and the Easter anthem as he walked about the sanded floor of his cottage, and thought over the heads of his sermon. For he was to preach that night in the little chapel of St. Swer, a fishing hamlet four miles to the northward; indeed, John preached very often, being a local preacher in the circuit of St. Penfer, and rather famous for his ready, short sermons, full of the breath of the sea and of the savour of the fisher's life upon it.

Denas had gone to a neighbouring farm for milk. He heard her quick step on the shingle, and he stood still in the middle of the floor to meet her. She had on a short dress of pink calico and a square of blue-and-white-plaided flannel thrown over her head. She came in like the breath of the spring Sabbath. Her face was rosy, her lovely lips slightly apart, her blue eyes dewy and soft and bright and br.i.m.m.i.n.g with love. She lifted her face to her father's face, and he forgot in a moment all his fears. He saw only Denas, and not any of her faults; if she had faults, he buried them that moment in his love, and they were all put out of memory.

Roland and the Treshams were not spoken of. John and Joan both had the fisher's dislike to name a person or a thing they considered unlucky or unpleasant. "If you name evil you do call evil" was their simple creed; and it saved many a household worry. They sat down to their breakfast of tea, and fresh fish, and white loaf, and the wide-open door let in the sea wind, and the sea smell, and the soft murmur of the turning tide. John's heart was full of holy joy; he could feel it singing: "Bless the Lord, O my soul!" And though he was only a poor Cornish fisher, he was sure that the world was a very good world and that life was well worth the living.

"Joan, my dear," he said, "the Bible do tell us that there shall be a new earth. Can it be a sweeter one than this is?"

"Aw, John, it may be a sight better, for we be promised 'there shall be no sea there,' thank G.o.d! no freezing, drowning men and no weeping wives. I do think of that when you are out in the frost and storm, John, and the thought be heaven itself."

"My dear, the sea be G.o.d's own highway. There be wonders by the sea.

Was not St. John sent to the sea-side for the Revelations? 'Twas there he heard the angels, whose voices were like the sound of many waters.

Heaven will be wonderful! wonderful! if it do make us forget the sea.

Aw, my dear Joan, 'twill be something added to this earth, not something taken away, and the good thing added will make both the sea and the 'bounds of the everlasting hills' to be blessed."

"John, who told you that? And if the cruel, hungry, awful sea is not to be taken away, nor yet the 'everlasting hills,' what will make it a new earth?"

"G.o.d's tabernacle will be in it. Aw, my dear, that will make everything new--sea and land, men and women; and then there will be no more tears. My dear, when I think of that I love this old world, not only for what it is, but also for what it is going to be."

"Father, you are preaching and not eating your breakfast; and I want to get breakfast over and the cups washed, for I have to dress myself yet, and a new dress to put on, too," and Denas smiled and nodded and touched her father's big hand with her small one, and then John smiled back, and with a mighty purpose began to eat his fish and bread and drink his tea.

The whole day took its colour from this happy beginning. In after-years John often spoke of that Easter Sabbath; of their quiet walk all together up the cliff to St. Penfer Chapel; of the singing, and the sermon, and the Sunday-school in the afternoon for the fisher children; of the walk to St. Swer with Denas by his side and the walk back, singing all the way home; of the nice supper ready for them, and how they had eaten and talked till the late moon made a band of light across the table, and John said hurriedly:

"Well, there now! The tide will be calling me before I do have time to get sleep in my eyes."

Then Joan rose quickly and Denas began to put away the bread and cheese and milk, and though none recognised the fact at the time, the old life pa.s.sed away for ever when the three rose from that midnight supper.

Yet for several days afterward nothing seemed to be changed. John went to his fishing and had unusual good fortune; and Joan and Denas were busy mending nets and watching the spring bleaching. It was the duty of Denas to take the house linen to some level gra.s.sy spot on the cliff-breast and water and watch it whiten in the sunshine. Monday she had gone to this duty with a vague hope that Roland would seek her out. She watched all day for him. She knew that she was looking pretty, and she felt that her employment was picturesque.

As she stood over the breadths of damask, with the water-can making mimic rain upon them, she was well aware that all her surroundings added charm to her charm. The soft winds blowing her hair and her pink skirt; the green leaves whispering above and around her; the rippling of the brook running down the hillside--all these things belonged as much to her as the frame belongs to the picture. Why did not Roland come to see her thus? Was he afraid for the words he had said to her?

Were they not true words? Did he intend, by ignoring them, to teach her that he had only been playing with her vanity and her credulity?