Elizabeth gave him a hearty welcome; she was indeed particularly glad to see him just then. She was lonely in the absence of her husband; she had just had a slight disagreement with the ladies at a church meeting; she was feeling her isolation and her want of family support; and she had met, for the first time since their interview, the Rev. Mr. Farrar, who had presumed to arrest her coachman and, in the presence of her servants, congratulate her on the marriage of her brother and her friend. Under the circumstances, she had judged it best to make no remarks; but she was very angry, and not sorry to have the culprit in her presence and tell him exactly what she thought of his folly and disgrace. She kept the lecture, however, until they had dined and were alone; then, as he sat serenely smoking one of Mr. Burrell's finest cigars, she said: "I hope you are come back to me, Roland. I hope you have left that woman for ever." "Who do you mean by 'that woman,' Elizabeth?" "De--You know who I mean." "Denas! Left Denas! Left my wife! That is absurd, Elizabeth! I wanted to see you. I could not bear to be 'out' with you any longer. You know, dear, that you are my only blood relative. Denas is my relative by marriage. Blood is thicker than--everything." "Roland, you know how I love you. You are the first person I remember. All my life long you have been first in my heart. How do you think I liked to be put aside for--that fisher-girl? It nearly broke my heart with shame and sorrow." "I ought to have told you, Elizabeth. I did behave badly to you. I am ashamed of myself. Forgive me, darling sister." And he pulled his chair to her side, and put his arm around her neck, and kissed her with no simulated affection. For he would indeed have been heartless had he been insensible to the true love which softened every tone in Elizabeth's voice and made her handsome face shine with tender interest and unselfish solicitude. "I ought to have told you, Elizabeth. I believe you are noble enough to have accepted Denas for my sake." "I am not, Roland. Nothing could have made me accept her. I have taken a personal dislike to her. I am sure that I cannot even do her justice." "She has been very ill. She is still very weak. I have been unable to get her all the comforts she ought to have had--unable to take her to the sea-side, though the doctor told me it was an imperative necessity. We have been very poor, but not unhappy." "I understood she was making a great deal of money with her trashy, vulgar little songs." "She was until she fell ill. And whatever her songs are, they have been very much admired." "By her own class. And you let her sing for your living! I am amazed at you, Roland!"