“My father has insulted me before Tris Penrose,” she said, “and I will never speak to Tris again. Many a time and oft he has let me go to St. Penfer when it was raining and blowing. He is very cross, cruel cross! Mother, you give me leave––do! I 48 will tell you a secret. Elizabeth is going to be married, and she wants me to help in getting her things ready. Mother, let me go; it is cruel hard to refuse me!”
The news of an approaching marriage can never be heard by any woman with indifference. Joan stayed her needle and looked at Denas with an eager curiosity.
“’Tis to the rector, I’ll warrant, Denas,” she said.
“No, it is not; but the rector is fine and angry, I can tell you. It was too much for him to speak to Miss Tresham on Saturday afternoon at the church. But won’t he be sorry for his disknowledging her when he knows who is to be the bridegroom? He will, and no mistake.”
“I don’t understand you, Denas. Who is going to marry Miss Tresham? Say the man’s name, and be done with it.”
“’Tis a great secret, mother; but if you will let me go to St. Penfer I will tell you.”
“Aw, my dear, I can live without Miss Tresham’s secrets. And I do know she can’t be having one I would go against your father to hear tell of, not I.”
“Father is unjust and unkind. What have I done, mother?”
“Your father is afraid of that young jackanapes, Roland Tresham, and good reason, too, if all be true that is said to be true.”
“Mr. Roland is a gentleman.”