A Singer from the Sea

by Amelia E. Barr

“Thank God! Now tell me about it! Joan, my old dear, come and tell me about it.”

Then they sat down together and told him all, and showed him the St. Penfer News containing Lawyer Tremaine’s statement regarding the property which had come of right to Denas. And John listened until the burden he had been carrying rolled quite away from his heart, and with a great sigh he stood up and said loudly, over and over again, “Thank God! Thank God! Thank God!” Then, as if a sudden hurry pressed him, he cried––“Come, Joan! Come, Denas! Let us go to the pier and welcome her home.”

She was just tacking to reach harbour when they mingled with the crowd of men and women already there. And Ann Trewillow was calling out: “Why, it is Tris Penrose at her wheel!” Then as she came closer a man shouted: “It be the Darling Denas. It must be John Penelles’ boat. To be sure it be John’s boat!” This opinion was reached by an instant conviction, and every face was turned to John.

“It be my boat, mates. Thank God and my little girl. It be my boat, thank God!”

And then Tris was at the slip, and the anchor down and all the men were as eager about the new craft as a group of horsemen could possibly be about the points of some famous winner. Tris had to tell every particular about her builder and her 323 building, and as the fishers were talking excitedly of these things, Joan gave a general invitation to her friends, and they followed her to the cottage, and heard the St. Penfer News read, and had a plate of junket[5] and of clotted cream.

And they were really proud and glad of what they heard. Denas had made herself so beloved that no one had a grudging or, envious feeling. Everyone considered how she had come back to them as if she had been penniless; “and teaching our little ones too––with sixteen hundred pounds at her back! Wonderful! Wonderful!” said first one and then another of the women. Indeed, if Denas had thought out a plan to make herself honoured and popular, she could hardly have conceived of one more in unison with the simple souls she had to influence. They could not sleep for talking about it. Denas Penelles was a veritable romance to them.

“And fair she was and fair she be!” said Mary Oliver, a good woman, with not a pinch of pride in her make-up. “And if Tris Penrose win her and she win him, a proper wedding it will be––a wedding made by their guardian angel. I do think that.” And the group of women present answered one and then another, “A proper wedding it will be, to be sure.”

In the evening there was a great praise-meeting at John’s cottage; for in St. Penfer all rejoicing and all sorrow ended in a religious meeting. And Denas and Tris sang out of the same hymn-book, 324 and sat side by side as they listened to John’s quaintly eloquent tribute to the God “who did always keep faith with His children.” “I was like to lose sight of my God,” he cried, “but my God never did lose sight of me. God’s children be well off, He goes so neighbourly with them. He is their pilot and their home-bringer. I did weep to myself all last night; but just as His promise says, joy did come in the morning.” And then John burst into song, and all his mates and neighbours with him.

And it is in such holy, exalted atmospheres that love reaches its sweetest, fairest strength and bloom. Tris had no need of words. Words would have blundered, and hampered, and darkened all he had to say. One look at Denas as they closed 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 325 watching will slay it. There must be time given for it to grow.