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He was quite excited and quite good-tempered now. A new plan was like a new fortune to Roland. He never took into consideration the contrariness of circumstances and of opposing human elements. His plans were perfect from his own standpoint; the standpoint of other people was out of his consideration. Never before had he conceived so clever a scheme for getting a livelihood made for him. There was really nobody but Denas to interfere with any of his arrangements, and Denas was under his control and could be made more so. This night he felt positive that he had “hit the very thing at last.”
He reached home late, but in exuberant spirits. Elizabeth was waiting for him. She was beautifully dressed, and in a moment he saw upon her hand the flash of large and perfect diamonds. “They were mother’s, I suppose, and I have as much right––yes, more right––to them than she has.” This was his first thought, but he did not express it. There was an air about Elizabeth that was quite new to him; he was curious and full of expectation as he seated himself beside her. She shook her head in a reproving manner.
“You have been making love to Denas. I see it in your eyes, Roland. And you promised me you never would.”
“Upon my honour, Elizabeth. We met the old fisher Penelles a long way up the cliff and he took her from me. Talking of making love––pray, what have you been doing? I thought you had a headache.”
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“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 noble girl! I did not know he was thinking of you.”
“He was waiting for me. Destiny, Roland. But he is a noble-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, noblest 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 39 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 40 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]
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CHAPTER III.
THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA.
| “O blesséd 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, 42 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 brimming with love.