It was hard to resist the pretty, pleading, coaxing girl, but John had a strength of will which Denas had never before put to the test.
“My dear girl,” he answered, “if Miss Tresham be longing to talk her secrets to you, she can come to you. There be nothing in the world to hinder her. Here be a free welcome to her.”
“I promised, father.”
“’Tis a pity you did.”
“I must go, father.”
“You must stay at home. ’Twould be like putting my girl through the fire to Baal to send her into the company there be now at Mr. Tresham’s.”
“I care nothing for the company. I want to see Miss Tresham.”
“Now, then, I am in earnest, Denas. You shall not go. Take your knitting and sit down to your own work.”
She lifted her knitting, but she did not lift a stitch. Where there is no positive compulsion the hand is only handmaid to the heart, and it does the work only which the heart wishes. At this hour Denas hated her knitting, and there being no necessity on her to perform it, her hands lay idle upon her lap. After a few minutes’ conversation John went out with Tris Penrose, and then Denas began to cry with anger and disappointment.