It still rained, but she put on her best clothing, and Joan was not pleased at her for doing so. She thought she might come home some night when the rain was over and change her dress for the visit to Burrell Court. This difference of opinion made their last meal together a silent one; for John was in a deep sleep and Joan would not have him disturbed. Denas just opened the door and stood a moment looking at the large, placid face on the white pillow. As she turned away, it seemed as if she cut a piece out of her heart; she had a momentary spasm of real physical pain. Joan had not yet recovered from her night of terror. Her face was grey, her eyes heavy, her heart still beating and aching with some unintelligible sense of wrong or grief. And she looked at her child with such a dumb, sorrowful inquiry that Denas sat down near her and put her head on her mother's breast and asked: "What is it, mother? Have I done anything to grieve you?" "Not as I know by, dear. I wish you hadn't worn your best dress--dresses do cost money, don't they now?" "Yes, they do, mother. There then! Shall I take it off? I will, to please you, mother." "No, no! The will be as good as the deed from my little girl. Maybe you are right, too. Dress do go a long way to pleasing." "Then good-bye. Kiss me, mother! Kiss me twice! Kiss me again, for father!" So Joan kissed her child. She smoothed her hair, and straightened her collar, and put in a missed button, and so held her close for a few moments, and kissed her again; and when Denas had reached the foot of the cliff, she was still watching her with the look on her face--the look of a mother who feels as if she still held her child in her arms. O love! love! love! Is there any sorrow in life like loving? FOOTNOTE: [3] Family, race. CHAPTER VIII. A SEA OF SORROW. "Time the shuttle drives; but we Give to every thread its hue And elect our destiny." --BURLEIGH. "Life does not make us, we make life." "He gave me trust, and trust has given me means Once to be false for all." --DRYDEN. "He at the news Heart-struck, with chilling gripe of sorrow, stood, That all his senses bound." --MILTON. It had been raining a little when Denas bade her mother farewell, but by the time she reached the top of the cliff the rain had become fog. She stood still awhile and turned her face to the sea, and saw one drift after another roll inland, veiling the beach, and the boats, and the cottages, and leaving the whole scene a spectacle of desolation.