childwas
born
.
For
a
space
of
two
years
the
widower
remained
one
;
then
he
married
again
,
being
at
that
time
a
hale
man
of
forty
,
the
owner
of
his
own
fishing-boat
,
and
at
once
the
strongest
personality
and
handsomest
person
in
Newlyn
.
Thomasin
Strick
,
his
second
wife
,
was
already
a
Luke
Gospeler
and
needed
no
conversion
.
People
laughed
in
secret
at
their
wooing
,
and
likened
it
to
the
rubbing
of
granite
rocks
or
a
miner
's
pick
striking
fire
from
tin
ore.
A
boy
presently
came
to
them
;
and
now
he
was
ten
and
his
mother
forty
.
She
passed
rightly
for
a
careful
,
money-loving
soul
,
and
a
good
wife
,
with
the
wit
to
be
also
a
good
Luke
Gospeler
.
But
her
tongue
was
harder
than
her
heart
.
Father
and
mother
alike
thought
the
wide
world
of
their
boy
,
though
the
child
was
brought
up
under
an
iron
rod
.
Joan
,
too
,
loved
her
half-brother
,
Tom
,
very
dearly
,
and
took
a
pride
only
second
to
her
stepmother
's
in
the
lad
's
progress
and
achievements
.
More
than
once
,
though
only
Joan
and
he
knew
it
,
she
had
saved
his
skin
from
punishment
,
and
she
worshiped
him
with
a
frank
admiration
which
was
bound
to
win
Mrs.
Tregenza
's
regard
.
Joan
quite
understood
the
careful
and
troubled
matron
,
never
attached
undue
importance
to
her
sharp
words
,
and
was
usually
at
her
elbow
with
an
ear
for
all
grievances
and
even
a
sympathetic
word
if
the
same
seemed
called
for
.
Mrs.
Tregenza
had
to
grumble
to
live
,
and
Joan
was
the
safety-valve
,
for
when
her
husband
came
off
the
sea
he
would
have
none
of
it
.
Life
moved
uniformly
for
these
people
,
being
varied
only
by
the
seasons
of
the
year
and
the
different
harvests
from
the
sea
which
each
brought
with
it
.
Pollock
,
mackerel
,
pilchards
,
herrings
—
all
had
their
appointed
time
,
and
the
years
rolled
on
,
marked
by
events
connected
with
the
secular
business
of
life
on
one
hand
and
that
greater
matter
of
eternity
upon
the
other
.
Thus
mighty
catches
of
fish
held
the
memory
with
mighty
catches
of
men
.
One
year
the
take
of
mackerel
had
been
beyond
all
previous
recollection
;
on
another
occasion
three
entire
families
had
joined
the
Luke
Gospelers
,
and
so
promised
to
increase
the
scanty
numbers
of
the
chosen
.
There
were
black
memories
,
too
,
and
black
years
,
casting
gloomy
shadows
.
Widows
and
orphans
knew
what
it
was
to
watch
for
brown
sails
that
came
into
the
harbor
's
sheltering
arms
no
more
;
and
spiritual
death
had
overtaken
more
than
one
Luke
Gospeler
.
Such
turned
their
backs
upon
the
light
and
exchanged
Truth
for
the
benighted
parody
of
religion
displayed
by
Bible
Christians
,
by
Plymouth
Brethren
or
by
the
Church
of
England
.
Six
months
before
the
day
on
which
she
saw
his
ship
through
Barron
's
glasses
,
Joan
had
been
formally
affianced
to
Joe
Noy
,
with
her
father
's
permission
and
approval
.
The
circumstances
of
the
event
demand
a
word
,
for
Joe
had
already
been
engaged
once
before
:
to
Mary
Chirgwin
,
a
young
woman
who
was
first
cousin
to
Joan
and
a
good
deal
older
.
She
was
an
orphan
and
dwelt
at
Drift
with
Thomas
Chirgwin
,
her
uncle
.
The
sailor
had
thereby
brightened
an
unutterably
lonely
life
and
brought
earthly
joy
to
one
who
had
never
known
it
.
Then
Gray
Michael
got
hold
of
the
lad
,
who
was
naturally
of
a
solid
and
religious
temperament
,
and
up
to
that
time
of
the
order
of
the
Rechabites
.
As
a
result
,
Joe
Noy
joined
the
Luke
Gospelers
and
called
upon
his
sweetheart
to
do
likewise
.
But
she
recollected
her
aunt
,
Joan
's
mother
,
and
being
made
of
stern
stuff
,
stuck
to
the
Church
of
England
as
she
knew
it
,
counting
salvation
a
greater
thing
than
even
a
home
of
her
own
.
The
struggle
was
sharp
between
them
;
neither
would
give
way
;
their
engagement
was
therefore
broken
,
and
the
girl
's
solitary
golden
glimpse
of
happiness
in
this
world
shattered
.
She
found
it
hard
to
forgive
the
Tregenzas
,
and
when
,
six
months
afterward
,
the
sleepy
farm
life
at
Drift
was
startled
by
news
of
Joan
's
love
affair
,
Mary
,
in
the
first
flush
of
her
reawakened
agony
,
spoke
bitterly
enough
;
and
even
that
most
mild-mannered
of
men
,
her
uncle
,
said
that
Michael
Tregenza
had
done
an
ugly
act
.
But
the
fisherman
was
at
no
time
concerned
with
Mary
or
with
Joan
.
The
opportunity
to
get
a
soul
into
the
fold
had
offered
and
been
accepted
.
Any
matter
of
earthly
love-making
counted
little
beside
this
.
When
Joe
broke
with
Mary
,
his
mentor
declared
the
action
inevitable
,
as
the
girl
would
not
alter
her
opinions
,
and
when
,
presently
,
young
Noy
fell
in
love
with
Joan
,
her
father
saw
no
objection
,
for
the
sailor
was
honest
,
already
a
stanch
Luke
Gospeler
and
a
clean
liver
.
Perhaps
at
that
moment
there
was
hardly
another
eligible
youth
in
Newlyn
from
Tregenza
's
point
of
view
.
He
held
Joan
a
girl
to
be
put
under
stern
marital
rule
as
soon
as
possible
,
and
Joe
promised
to
make
a
godly
husband
with
a
strong
will
,
while
his
convictions
and
view
of
life
were
altogether
satisfactory
,
being
modeled
on
Michael
's
own
.
The
arrangement
suited
Joan
.
She
believed
she
loved
Joe
very
dearly
,
and
she
looked
forward
with
satisfaction
to
marrying
him
in
about
a
year
's
time
,
when
he
should
have
won
a
ship-master
's
certificate
.
But
she
viewed
his
departure
without
suffering
and
would
not
have
willingly
foregone
her
remaining
year
of
freedom
.
She
respected
Joe
very
much
and
knew
he
would
make
a
good
partner
and
give
her
a
position
above
the
everyday
wives
of
Newlyn
;
moreover
,
he
was
a
fine
figure
of
a
man
.
But
he
lacked
mental
breadth
,
and
that
fact
sometimes
tickled
her
dormant
sense
of
humor
.
He
copied
her
father
so
exactly
,
and
she
,
who
lived
with
the
real
thunder
,
never
could
show
sufficient
gravity
or
conviction
in
the
presence
of
the
youthful
and
narrow-minded
Noy
's
second-hand
echoes
.
Mary
Chirgwin
was
naturally
a
thousand
times
more
religious-minded
than
Joan
,
and
sometimes
Joe
wished
the
sober
mind
of
his
first
love
could
be
transported
to
the
beautiful
body
of
his
second
;
but
he
kept
this
notion
to
himself
,
studied
to
please
his
future
father-in-law
,
which
he
succeeded
in
doing
handsomely
,
and
contented
himself
,
in
so
far
as
his
lady
was
concerned
,
by
reflecting
that
the
necessary
control
over
her
somewhat
light
mind
would
be
his
in
due
season
.
To
return
from
this
tedious
but
necessary
glimpse
at
the
position
and
belief
of
these
people
to
Joan
and
the
washing
,
it
is
to
be
noted
that
she
quickly
made
up
for
lost
time
,
and
,
without
further
mentioning
the
incidents
of
her
morning
's
excursion
,
began
to
work
.
She
pulled
up
her
sleeves
,
dragged
her
dress
about
her
waist
,
then
started
to
cleanse
the
thick
flannels
her
father
wore
at
sea
,
his
long-tailed
shirts
and
woolen
stockings
.
The
Tregenzas
were
well-to-do
folk
,
and
did
not
need
to
use
the
open
spaces
of
the
village
for
drying
of
clothes
.
Joan
presently
set
up
a
line
among
the
plum-trees
,
and
dawdled
over
the
hanging
out
of
wet
garments
,
for
it
was
now
noon
,
sunny
,
mild
,
and
fresh
,
with
a
cool
salt
breeze
off
the
sea
.
The
winter
repose
of
the
bee-butts
had
been
broken
at
last
,
and
the
insects
were
busy
with
the
plum-blossom
and
among
the
little
green
flowerets
on
the
gooseberry
bushes
.
Beyond
,
sun-streaked
and
bright
,
extended
apple-trees
with
whitewashed
stems
and
a
twinkle
of
crimson
on
their
boughs
,
where
buds
grew
ripe
for
the
blowing
.
Joan
yawned
and
blinked
up
at
the
sun
to
see
if
it
was
dinner
time
.
Then
she
watched
a
kitten
hunting
the
bees
in
the
gooseberry
bushes
.
Presently
the
little
creature
knocked
one
to
the
ground
and
began
to
pat
it
and
pounce
upon
it
.
Then
the
bee
,
using
Nature
's
weapon
to
preserve
precious
life
,
stung
the
kitten
;
and
the
kitten
hopped
into
the
air
much
amazed
.
It
shook
its
paw
,
licked
it
,
shook
it
again
.
Joan
laughed
,
and
two
pigs
at
the
bottom
of
the
garden
heard
her
and
grunted
and
squealed
as
they
thrust
expectant
noses
through
the
palings
of
their
sty
.
They
connected
the
laugh
with
their
dinner
,
but
Joan
's
thoughts
were
all
upon
her
own
.
A
few
minutes
later
Thomasin
Tregenza
called
her
,
and
,
as
they
sat
down
,
Tom
arrived
from
school
.
He
was
a
brown-faced
,
dark-eyed
,
black-haired
youngster
,
good-looking
enough
,
but
not
at
that
moment
.
"
Aw
!
Jimmery
!
fightin
'
agin
,
"
said
his
mother
,
viewing
two
swollen
lips
,
a
bulged
ear
,
and
an
eye
half
closed
.
"
I
've
downed
Matthew
Bent
,
Joan
!
Ten
fair
rounds
,
then
he
gived
up
.
"
"
Fight
,
fight
,
fight
—
'
tis
all
you
think
of
,
"
said
his
parent
,
while
Joan
poured
congratulations
on
the
conqueror
.
"
'
Tweer
bound
to
come
arter
the
football
,
when
he
played
foul
,
an
'
I
tawld
en
so
.
Now
,
we
'm
friends
.
"
"
Be
he
bruised
same
as
you
?
"
"
A
sight
worse
;
he
's
a
braave
picksher
,
I
tell
'
e
!
I
doubt
he
wo
n't
come
to
schule
this
arternoon
.
That
'll
shaw
.
I
be
gwaine
,
if
I
got
to
crawl
theer
.
"
"
An
'
him
a
year
older
than
what
you
be
!
"
said
Joan
.
"
Iss
,
Mat
's
'
leben
year
old
.
I
'll
have
some
vinegar
an
'
brown
paper
to
this
here
eye
,
mother
.
"
"
Ait
your
mayte
,
ait
your
mayte
fust
,
"
she
answered
.
"
Plague
'
pon
your
fightin
'
!
"
"
But
that
Bent
bwoy
's
bin
at
en
for
months
;
an
'
a
year
older
too
,
"
said
Joan
.
"
Iss
,
the
bwoy
's
got
no
more'n
what
'
e
desarved
.
For
that
matter
,
they
Bents
be
all
puffed
up
,
though
they
'm
so
poor
as
rats
,
an
'
wi'out
'
nough
religion
to
save
the
sawl
of
a
new-born
babe
'
mongst
the
lot
of
'
em
.
"
Tom
,
with
his
mouth
full
of
fish
and
potato
pie
,
told
the
story
of
his
victory
,
and
the
women
made
a
big
,
hearty
meal
and
listened
.
"
He
cockled
up
to
me
,
an
'
us
beginned
fightin
'
right
away
,
an
'
in
the
third
round
I
scat
en
on
the
mouth
an
'
knocked
wan
'
is
teeth
out
.
An
'
in
the
fifth
round
he
dropped
me
a
whister-cuff
'
pon
the
eye
as
made
me
blink
proper
.
"
"
Us
doa
n't
want
to
knaw
no
more
'
bout
it
,
"
declared
his
mother
after
dinner
was
over
.
"
You
've
laced
en
an
'
that
's
enough
.
You
knaw
what
faither
'll
say
.
You
did
ought
to
fight
no
battle
but
the
Lard
's
.
Now
clap
this
here
over
your
eye
for
a
bit
,
then
be
off
with
'
e
.
"
Tom
marched
away
to
school
earlier
than
usual
that
afternoon
,
while
the
women
went
to
the
door
and
watched
him
trudge
off
,
both
mightily
proud
of
his
performance
and
his
battered
brown
face
.
"
He
be
a
reg'lar
lil
apty-cock
,
[
Footnote
:
Apty-cock
—
Brave
,
plucky
youngster
.
]
sure
'
nough
!
"
said
Joan
.
Mrs.
Tregenza
answered
with
a
nod
and
looked
along
the
road
after
her
son
.
There
was
a
softer
expression
in
her
eyes
as
she
watched
him
.
Besides
,
she
had
eaten
well
and
was
comfortable
.
Now
she
picked
her
teeth
with
a
pin
,
and
snuffed
the
sea
air
,
and
gave
a
passing
neighbor
"
good-afternoon
"
with
greater
warmth
of
manner
than
usual
.
Presently
her
mood
changed
;
she
noisily
rated
herself
and
her
stepdaughter
for
standing
idling
;
then
both
went
back
to
their
work
.
CHAPTER
FOUR
BARRON
BEGINS
TO
LEARN
THE
GORSE
Between
four
and
five
o'clock
in
the
morning
of
the
following
day
the
master
of
the
white
cottage
came
home
.
His
wife
expected
him
and
was
getting
breakfast
when
Michael
tramped
in
—
a
very
tall
,
square-built
man
,
clad
to
the
eye
in
tanned
oilskin
overalls
,
sou'wester
,
and
jackboots
.
The
fisherman
returned
to
his
family
in
high
good
temper
;
for
the
sea
had
yielded
silvery
thousands
to
his
drift-nets
,
and
the
catch
had
already
been
sold
in
the
harbor
for
a
handsome
figure
.
The
brown
sails
of
Tregenza
's
lugger
flapped
in
the
bay
among
a
crowd
of
others
,
and
every
man
was
in
a
hurry
to
be
off
again
at
the
earliest
opportunity
.
Already
the
first
boats
home
were
putting
to
sea
once
more
,
making
a
wide
tack
across
the
mouth
of
the
bay
until
nearly
abreast
of
St.
Michael
's
Mount
,
then
tearing
away
like
race
horses
with
foam
flying
as
they
sailed
before
the
eastern
wind
for
the
Scilly
Islands
and
the
mackerel
.
Michael
kissed
his
wife
and
Joan
also
,
as
she
came
to
the
kitchen
sleepy-eyed
in
the
soft
light
to
welcome
him
.
Then
,
while
Mrs.
Tregenza
was
busied
with
breakfast
and
the
girl
cleaned
some
fish
,
he
went
to
his
own
small
room
off
the
kitchen
and
changed
his
clothes
—
all
silvery
,
scale-spotted
and
blood-smeared
—
for
the
clean
garments
which
were
spread
and
waiting
.
First
the
man
indulged
in
luxuries
.
He
poured
out
a
large
tub
of
fresh
water
and
washed
himself
;
he
even
cleaned
his
nails
and
teeth
—
hyberbolic
refinements
that
made
the
baser
sort
laugh
at
him
behind
his
back
.
At
the
meal
which
followed
his
toilet
Tregenza
talked
to
his
wife
and
daughter
upon
various
subjects
.
He
spoke
slowly
and
from
the
lungs
with
the
deep
echoing
voice
of
one
used
to
vocal
exercise
in
the
open
air
.
"
I
seed
the
'
Anna
'
yesterday
,
Joan
,
"
he
said
,
"
a
proud
ship
,
full-rigged
wi
'
butivul
lines
.
Her
passed
wi'in
three
mile
of
us
or
less
off
the
islands
.
"
Joan
did
not
hint
at
her
visit
to
Gorse
Point
of
the
previous
day
,
but
her
stepmother
mentioned
it
,
and
her
father
felt
called
upon
to
reprimand
his
daughter
,
though
not
very
seriously
.
"
'
Twas
a
empty
,
vain
thing
to
do
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
promised
Joe
,
faither
.
"
"
Why
,
then
you
was
right
to
go
,
though
a
fulish
thing
to
promise
en
.
Wheer
's
Tom
to
?
"
Tom
came
down
a
minute
later
.
The
swelling
of
his
lips
was
lessened
,
but
his
ear
had
not
returned
to
a
normal
size
and
his
eye
was
black
.
"
Fighting
again
?
"
Michael
began
,
looking
up
from
his
saucer
and
fixing
his
eyes
on
his
son
.
"
Please
,
faither
,
I
—
"
"
Doa
n't
say
naught
.
You
'm
so
fond
of
it
that
I
judges
you
'd
best
begin
fightin
'
the
battle
o
'
life
right
on
end
.
'
Tai
n't
no
use
keepin
'
you
to
schule
no
more
.
'
Tis
time
you
comed
aboard
.
"
Tom
crowed
with
satisfaction
,
and
Mrs.
Tregenza
sighed
and
stopped
eating
.
This
event
had
been
hanging
over
her
head
for
many
a
long
day
now
;
but
she
had
put
the
thing
away
,
and
secretly
hoped
that
after
all
Tregenza
would
change
his
mind
and
apprentice
the
boy
to
a
shore
trade
.
However
,
Tom
had
made
his
choice
,
and
his
father
meant
him
to
abide
by
it
.
No
other
life
appealed
to
the
boy
;
heredity
marked
him
for
the
sea
,
and
he
longed
for
the
hard
business
to
begin
.
"
I
'll
larn
you
something
besides
fisticuffs
,
my
beauty
.
'
Tis
all
well-a-fine
,
this
batterin
'
an
'
bruisin
'
,
but
it
awnly
breeds
the
savage
in
'
e
,
same
as
raw
meat
do
in
a
dog
.
No
more
fightin
'
'
cept
wi
'
dirty
weather
an
'
high
seas
an
'
contrary
winds
,
an
'
the
world
,
the
flaish
an
'
the
devil
.
I
went
to
sea
as
a
lugger-bwoy
when
I
was
eight
year
old
,
an
'
ai
n't
bin
off
the
water
more'n
a
month
to
wance
ever
since
.
This
day
two
week
you
come
along
wi
'
me
.
That
'll
give
mother
full
time
to
see
'
bout
your
kit
.
"
Joan
wept
,
Thomasin
Tregenza
whined
,
and
Tom
danced
a
break-down
and
rolled
away
to
see
some
fisher-boy
friends
in
the
harbor
before
school
began
.
Then
Michael
,
calling
his
daughter
to
him
,
walked
with
her
among
his
plum-trees
,
talked
of
God
with
some
quotations
,
and
looked
at
his
pigs
.
Presently
he
busied
himself
and
made
ready
for
sea
in
a
little
outhouse
where
paint
and
ship
's
chandlery
were
stored
;
and
finally
,
the
hour
then
being
half
past
seven
,
he
returned
to
his
labors
.
Joan
walked
with
him
to
the
harbor
and
listened
while
he
talked
of
the
goodness
of
God
to
the
Luke
Gospelers
at
sea
;
how
the
mackerel
had
been
delivered
to
them
in
thousands
,
and
how
the
Bible
Christians
and
Primitive
Methodists
had
fared
by
no
means
so
happily
.
The
tide
was
high
,
and
Gray
Michael
's
skiff
waited
for
him
at
the
pierhead
beside
the
lighthouse
.
He
soon
climbed
down
into
it
,
and
the
little
boat
,
rowed
by
two
strong
pairs
of
hands
,
danced
away
to
the
fleet
.
Already
the
luggers
were
stretching
off
in
a
long
line
across
the
bay
;
and
among
them
appeared
a
number
of
visitors
:
Lowestoft
yawls
come
down
to
the
West
after
the
early
mackerel
.
They
were
big
,
stout
vessels
,
and
many
had
steam-power
aboard
.
Joan
watched
her
father
's
lugger
start
and
saw
it
overhaul
not
a
few
smaller
ships
before
she
turned
from
the
busy
harbor
homeward
.
That
morning
she
designed
to
work
with
a
will
,
for
the
afternoon
was
to
be
spent
on
Gorse
Point
if
all
went
well
,
and
she
already
looked
forward
somewhat
curiously
to
her
next
meeting
with
the
singular
man
who
had
lent
her
his
field-glass
.
Mrs.
Tregenza
was
in
sorry
,
snappy
case
all
day
.
The
blow
had
fallen
,
and
within
a
fort-night
Tom
would
go
to
sea
.
This
dismal
fact
depressed
her
not
a
little
,
and
she
snuffled
over
her
ironing
,
and
her
voice
grated
worse
than
usual
upon
the
ear
.
"
He
's
such
a
hot-headed
twoad
of
a
bwoy
.
I
knaw
he
'll
never
get
on
'
pon
the
water
.
I
doubt
us
'll
hear
he
's
bin
knocked
overboard
or
some
sich
thing
some
day
;
an
'
them
two
brothers
,
they
Pritchards
,
as
allus
sails
'
long
wi
'
Tregenza
,
they
'm
that
comical-tempered
every
one
knaws
.
Oh
,
my
God
,
why
couldn
'
he
let
the
bwoy
larn
a
land
trade
—
carpenterin
'
or
sich
like
?
"
"
But
,
you
see
,
faither
's
a
rich
man
,
an
'
some
time
Tom
'll
fill
his
shoes
.
Faither
do
awn
his
bwoat
an
'
the
nets
tu
,
which
is
more'n
most
Newlyn
men
does
.
"
"
Iss
,
I
should
think
'
twas
,
"
said
Mrs.
Tregenza
,
forgetting
her
present
sorrow
in
the
memory
of
such
splendid
circumstances
.
"
Theer
ba
n't
wan
feller
as
awns
all
like
what
faither
do
.
The
Lard
helps
His
chosen
,
not
but
what
Tregenza
allus
helped
hisself
an
'
set
the
example
to
Newlyn
from
his
boyhood
.
"
Mrs.
Tregenza
always
licked
her
lips
when
she
talked
about
money
or
religion
,
and
she
did
so
now
.
Among
Cornish
drifters
Gray
Michael
's
position
was
undoubtedly
unique
,
for
under
the
rules
of
the
Cornish
fishery
he
enjoyed
exceptional
advantages
owing
to
his
personal
possession
both
of
boat
and
nets
.
The
owner
of
a
drift-boat
takes
one-eighth
part
of
the
gross
proceeds
of
a
catch
,
and
the
remaining
seven-eighths
are
divided
into
two
equal
parts
of
which
one
part
is
subdivided
among
the
crew
of
the
boat
,
while
the
other
goes
to
the
owner
or
owners
of
the
nets
used
on
board
.
The
number
of
nets
to
a
boat
is
about
fifty
as
a
rule
,
and
a
man
to
possess
his
own
boat
and
outfit
must
be
unusually
well-to-do
.
But
it
was
partly
for
this
reason
that
Mrs.
Tregenza
refused
to
be
comforted
.
She
grudged
every
farthing
spent
on
anything
,
and
much
disliked
the
notion
of
tramping
to
Penzance
to
expend
the
greater
part
of
a
five-pound
note
on
Tom
's
sea
outfit
.
In
a
better
cause
she
would
not
have
thought
it
ill
to
expend
money
upon
him
.
His
position
pointed
to
something
higher
than
a
fisherman
's
life
.
He
might
have
aspired
to
a
shop
in
the
future
together
with
a
measure
of
worldly
prosperity
and
importance
not
to
be
expected
for
any
mere
seafarer
.
But
Tom
had
settled
the
matter
by
deciding
for
himself
,
and
his
father
had
approved
the
ambition
,
so
there
the
matter
ended
,
save
for
grumbling
and
sighing
.
Joan
,
too
,
felt
sore
enough
at
heart
when
she
heard
that
the
long-dreaded
event
lay
but
a
fortnight
in
the
future
.
But
she
knew
her
father
,
and
felt
sure
that
the
certainty
of
Tom
's
going
to
sea
at
the
appointed
time
would
now
only
be
defeated
by
death
or
the
Judgment
Day
.
So
she
did
not
worry
or
fret
.
Nothing
served
to
soothe
her
stepmother
,
however
,
and
the
girl
was
glad
to
slip
off
after
dinner
,
leaving
Thomasin
with
her
troubles
.
Joan
made
brisk
way
through
Mousehole
and
in
less
than
an
hour
stood
out
among
the
furzes
in
the
little
lonely
theater
above
the
cliffs
.
For
a
moment
she
saw
nothing
of
John
Barron
,
then
she
found
him
sitting
on
a
camp-stool
before
a
light
easel
which
looked
all
legs
with
a
mere
little
square
patch
of
a
picture
perched
upon
them
.
Joan
walked
to
within
a
few
yards
of
the
artist
and
waited
for
him
to
speak
.
But
eye
,
hand
,
brain
were
all
working
together
on
the
sketch
before
him
,
and
if
he
saw
the
visitor
at
all
,
which
was
doubtful
,
he
took
no
notice
of
her
.
Joan
came
a
little
closer
,
and
still
John
Barron
ignored
her
presence
.
Then
she
grew
uncomfortable
,
and
,
feeling
she
must
break
the
silence
,
spoke
.
"
I
be
come
,
sir
,
'
cordin
'
to
what
you
said
.
"
He
added
a
touch
and
looked
up
with
no
recognition
in
his
eyes
.
His
forehead
frowned
with
doubt
apparently
,
then
he
seemed
to
remember
.
"
Ah
,
the
young
woman
who
told
me
about
the
luggers
.
"
Suddenly
he
smiled
at
her
,
the
first
time
she
had
seen
him
do
so
.
"
You
never
mentioned
your
name
,
I
think
?
"
"
Joan
Tregenza
,
sir
.
"
"
I
promised
you
a
little
picture
of
that
big
ship
,
did
n't
I
?
"
"
You
was
that
kind
,
sir
.
"
"
Well
,
I
have
n't
forgotten
it
.
I
finished
the
picture
this
morning
and
I
think
you
may
like
it
,
but
I
had
to
leave
it
until
to-morrow
,
because
the
paints
take
so
long
to
dry
.
"
"
I
'm
sure
I
thank
you
kindly
,
sir
.
"
"
No
need
.
To-morrow
it
will
be
quite
ready
for
you
,
with
a
frame
and
all
complete
.
You
see
I
've
begun
to
try
and
paint
the
gorse
.
"
He
invited
her
by
a
gesture
to
view
his
work
.
She
came
closer
,
and
as
she
bent
he
glanced
up
at
her
with
his
face
for
a
moment
close
to
hers
.
Then
she
drew
back
quickly
,
blushing
.
"
'
Tis
butivul
—
just
like
them
fuzzes
.
"
He
had
been
working
for
two
hours
before
she
came
,
painting
a
small
patch
of
the
gorse
.
Old
gnarled
stems
wound
upward
crookedly
,
and
beneath
them
lay
a
dead
carpet
of
gorse
needles
with
a
blade
or
two
of
grass
shooting
through
.
From
the
roots
and
bases
of
the
main
stems
sprouted
many
a
shoot
of
young
gorse
,
their
prickles
tender
as
the
claws
of
a
new-born
kitten
,
their
shape
,
color
,
and
foliage
of
thorns
quite
different
to
the
mature
plant
above
.
There
,
in
the
main
masses
of
the
shrub
,
mossy
brown
buds
in
clumps
foretold
future
splendor
.
But
already
much
gold
had
burst
the
sheath
and
was
ablaze
,
scenting
the
pure
air
,
murmured
over
by
many
bees
.
"
You
could
a'most
pick
thicky
theer
flowers
,
"
declared
Joan
of
the
picture
.
"
Perhaps
presently
,
when
they
are
painted
as
I
hope
to
paint
them
.
This
is
only
a
rough
bit
of
work
to
occupy
my
hand
and
eye
while
I
am
learning
the
gorse
.
Men
who
paint
seriously
have
to
learn
trees
and
blossoms
just
as
they
have
to
learn
faces
.
And
we
are
never
satisfied
.
When
I
have
painted
this
gorse
,
with
its
thorns
and
buds
,
I
shall
sigh
for
more
truth
.
I
cannot
paint
the
soul
of
each
little
yellow
flower
that
opens
to
the
sun
;
I
cannot
paint
the
sunny
smell
that
is
sweet
in
our
nostrils
now
.
God
's
gorse
scents
the
air
;
mine
will
only
smell
of
fat
oil
.
What
shall
I
do
?
"
"
I
dunnaw
.
"
"
No
more
does
anybody
.
It
ca
n't
be
helped
.
But
I
must
try
my
best
and
make
it
real
—
each
spike
,
as
I
see
it
—
the
dead
gray
ones
on
the
ground
and
the
live
green
ones
on
the
tree
,
and
the
baby
ones
and
the
old
gray-pointed
ones
,
which
have
seen
their
best
days
and
will
presently
die
and
fall
—
I
must
paint
them
all
,
Joan
.
"
She
laughed
.
"
Do
n't
laugh
,
"
he
said
,
very
seriously
.
"
Only
an
artist
would
laugh
at
me
,
not
you
who
love
Nature
.
There
lives
a
great
painter
,
Joan
,
who
paints
pictures
that
nobody
else
in
the
wide
world
can
paint
.
He
is
growing
old
,
but
he
is
not
too
old
to
take
trouble
still
.
Once
,
when
he
was
a
young
man
,
he
drew
a
lemon-tree
far
away
in
Italy
.
It
was
only
a
little
lemon-tree
,
but
the
artist
rose
morning
after
morning
and
drew
it
leaf
by
leaf
,
twig
by
twig
,
until
every
leaf
and
bud
and
lemon
and
bough
had
appeared
.
It
was
not
labored
and
false
;
it
was
grand
because
it
was
true
:
a
joy
forever
;
work
Old
Masters
had
loved
;
full
of
distinction
and
power
and
patience
almost
Oriental
.
A
thing
,
Joan
Tregenza
,
worth
a
wilderness
of
'
harmonies
'
and
'
impressions
,
'
'
nocturnes
'
and
'
notes
,
'
smudges
and
audacities
.
But
I
suppose
that
is
all
gibberish
to
you
?
"
"
Iss
,
so
it
be
,
"
she
admitted
.
"
Learn
to
love
everything
that
is
beautiful
,
my
good
child
.
But
I
think
you
do
,
unconsciously
perhaps
.
"
"
I
do
n't
take
much
'
count
of
things
.
"
"
Yes
,
unconsciously
.
You
have
a
cowslip
there
stuck
in
your
frock
,
though
where
you
got
it
from
I
ca
n't
imagine
.
The
flower
is
a
month
too
early
.
"
"
Iss
,
'
tis
,
I
found
en
in
a
lew
,
sunshiny
plaace
.
Us
have
got
a
frame
for
growin
'
things
under
glass
,
an
'
it
had
bin
put
down
'
pon
top
this
cowslip
an
'
drawed
'
en
up
.
"
"
Will
you
give
it
to
me
?
"
She
did
so
,
and
he
smelled
it
.
"
D'you
know
that
the
green
of
the
cowslip
is
the
most
beautiful
green
in
all
Nature
,
Joan
?
Here
,
I
have
a
flower
,
too
;
we
will
exchange
if
you
like
.
"
He
took
a
scrap
of
blackthorn
bloom
from
his
coat
and
held
it
out
to
her
,
but
she
shrank
backward
and
he
learned
something
.
"
Please
not
that
—
truly
'
tis
the
dreadfulest
wicked
flower
.
Doa
n't
'
e
arsk
I
to
take
en
.
"
"
Unlucky
?
"
"
Iss
fay
!
Him
or
her
as
first
brings
blackthorn
in
the
house
dies
afore
it
blows
again
.
Truth
—
solemn
—
us
all
knaws
it
down
in
these
paarts
.
'
Tis
a
bewitched
thing
—
a
wicked
plant
,
an
'
you
can
see
it
grawin
'
all
humpetty-backed
an
'
bent
an
'
crooked
.
Wance
,
when
a
man
killed
hisself
,
they
did
use
to
bury
en
wheer
roads
met
an
'
put
a
blackthorn
stake
through
en
;
an
'
it
all
us
grawed
arter
;
an
'
that
's
the
worstest
sort
o
'
all
.
"
"
Dear
,
dear
,
I
'm
glad
you
told
me
,
Joan
;
I
will
not
wear
it
,
nor
shall
you
,
"
he
said
,
and
flung
it
down
and
stamped
on
it
very
seriously
.
The
girl
was
gratified
.
"
I
judge
you
'm
a
furriner
,
else
you
'd
knawn
'
bout
the
wickedness
o
'
blackthorn
.
"
"
I
am
.
Thank
you
very
much
.
But
for
you
I
should
have
gone
home
wearing
it
.
That
puts
me
in
your
debt
,
Joan
.
"
"
'
Tai
n't
nothin
'
,
awnly
there
's
a
many
coorious
Carnish
things
like
that
.
An
'
coorious
customs
what
some
doa
n't
hold
with
an
'
some
does
.
"
She
sat
down
near
the
cliff
edge
with
her
back
to
him
,
and
he
smiled
to
himself
to
find
how
quickly
his
mild
manners
and
reserve
had
put
the
girl
at
her
ease
.
She
looked
perfect
that
afternoon
and
he
yearned
to
begin
painting
her
;
but
his
scheme
of
action
demanded
time
for
its
perfect
fulfillment
and
ultimate
success
.
He
let
the
little
timorous
chatterbox
talk
.
Her
voice
was
soft
and
musical
as
the
cooing
of
a
wood-dove
,
and
the
sweet
full
notes
chimed
in
striking
contrast
to
her
uncouth
speech
.
But
Joan
's
diction
gave
pleasure
to
the
listener
.
It
had
freedom
and
wildness
,
and
was
almost
wholly
innocent
of
any
petrifying
educational
influences
.
Joan
,
for
her
part
,
felt
at
ease
.
The
man
was
so
polite
and
so
humble
.
He
thanked
her
for
her
information
so
gratefully
.
Moreover
,
he
evidently
cared
so
little
about
her
or
her
looks
.
She
felt
perfectly
safe
,
for
it
was
easy
to
see
that
he
thought
more
of
the
gorse
than
anything
.
"
My
faither
's
agin
such
things
an
'
sayin
's
,
"
she
babbled
on
,
"
but
I
dunnaw
.
They
seems
truth
to
me
,
an
'
to
many
as
is
wiser
than
what
I
be
.
My
mother
b'lieved
in
'
em
,
an
'
Joe
did
,
till
faither
turned
en
away
from
'
em
.
But
when
us
plighted
troth
,
I
made
en
jine
hands
wi
'
me
under
a
livin
'
spring
o
'
water
,
though
he
said
'
twas
heathenish
.
Awnly
,
somehow
,
I
knawed
'
twas
a
proper
thing
to
do
.
"
"
I
should
like
to
hear
more
about
these
old
customs
some
day
,
"
he
said
,
as
though
Joan
and
he
were
to
meet
often
in
the
future
,
"
and
I
should
be
obliged
to
you
for
telling
me
about
them
,
because
I
always
delight
in
such
matters
.
"
She
was
quicker
of
mind
than
he
thought
,
and
rose
,
taking
his
last
remark
as
a
hint
that
he
wished
to
be
alone
.
"
Do
n't
go
,
Joan
,
unless
you
must
.
I
'm
a
very
lonely
man
,
and
it
is
a
great
pleasure
to
me
to
hear
you
talk
.
Look
here
.
"
She
approached
him
,
and
he
showed
her
a
pencil
sketch
now
perched
on
the
easel
—
a
drawing
considerably
larger
than
that
upon
which
he
had
been
working
when
she
arrived
.
"
This
is
a
rough
idea
of
my
picture
.
It
is
going
to
be
much
larger
though
,
and
I
have
sent
all
the
way
to
London
for
a
canvas
on
which
to
paint
it
.
"
'
"
Twill
be
a
gert
big
picksher
then
?
"
"
So
big
that
I
think
I
must
try
and
get
something
into
it
besides
the
gorse
.
I
want
something
or
other
in
the
middle
,
just
for
a
change
.
What
could
I
paint
there
?
"
"
I
dunnaw
.
"
"
No
more
do
I
.
I
wonder
how
that
little
white
pony
tethered
yonder
would
do
?
"
Joan
laughed
.
"
You
'd
never
get
the
likes
o
'
him
to
bide
still
for
'
e
.
"
"
No
,
I
'm
afraid
not
;
and
I
doubt
if
I
'm
clever
enough
to
paint
him
either
.
You
see
,
I
'm
only
a
beginner
—
not
like
these
clever
artists
who
can
draw
anything
.
Well
,
I
must
think
:
to-morrow
is
Sunday
.
I
shall
begin
my
big
picture
on
Monday
if
the
weather
keeps
kind
.
I
shall
paint
here
,
in
the
open
air
.
And
I
will
bring
your
ship
,
too
,
if
you
care
to
take
the
trouble
to
come
for
it
.
"
"
Yes
,
an
'
thank
'
e
,
sir
.
"
"
Not
at
all
.
I
owe
you
thanks
.
Just
think
if
I
had
gone
home
with
that
horrid
blackthorn
.
"
He
turned
to
his
work
as
though
she
were
no
longer
present
and
the
girl
prepared
to
depart
.
"
I
'll
bid
you
good-arternoon
now
,
sir
,
"
she
said
timidly
.
He
looked
up
with
surprise
.
"
Have
n't
you
gone
,
Joan
?
I
thought
you
had
started
.
Good-by
until
Monday
.
Remember
,
if
it
is
cold
or
rainy
I
shall
not
be
here
.
"
The
girl
trotted
off
;
and
when
she
had
gone
Barren
drew
her
from
memory
in
the
center
of
his
sketch
.
The
golden
glories
of
the
gorse
were
destined
to
be
no
more
than
a
frame
for
something
fairer
.
CHAPTER
FIVE
COLD
COMFORT
John
Barron
made
other
preparations
for
his
picture
besides
those
detailed
to
Joan
Tregenza
.
He
designed
a
large
canvas
and
proposed
to
paint
it
in
the
open
air
according
to
his
custom
.
His
health
had
improved
,
and
the
sustained
splendor
of
the
spring
weather
flattered
hopes
that
,
his
model
once
won
,
the
work
he
proposed
would
grow
into
an
accomplished
fact
.
There
was
no
cottage
where
he
might
house
his
picture
and
materials
within
half
a
mile
of
Gorse
Point
,
but
a
granite
cow-byre
rose
considerably
nearer
,
at
a
corner
of
an
upland
field
.
Wind-worn
and
lichen-stained
it
stood
,
situated
not
more
than
two
hundred
yards
from
the
spot
on
which
Barron
's
picture
was
to
be
painted
.
A
pathway
to
outlying
farms
cut
the
fields
hard
by
the
byre
,
and
about
it
lay
implements
of
husbandry
—
a
chain
harrow
and
a
rusty
plow
.
Black
,
tar-pitched
double
doors
gave
entrance
to
the
shed
,
and
light
entered
from
a
solitary
window
now
roughly
nailed
up
from
the
outside
with
boards
.
A
padlock
fastened
the
door
,
but
,
by
wrenching
down
the
covering
of
the
window
,
Barron
got
sight
of
the
interior
.
A
smell
of
vermin
and
decay
rose
from
the
inner
darkness
;
then
,
as
his
eyes
focused
the
gloom
,
he
noted
a
dry
,
spacious
chamber
likely
enough
to
answer
his
purpose
.
Brown
litter
of
last
year
's
fern
filled
one
corner
,
and
in
it
was
marked
a
lair
as
of
some
medium-sized
beast
;
elsewhere
a
few
sacks
with
spades
and
picks
and
a
small
pile
of
potatoes
appeared
:
the
roots
were
all
sprouting
feebly
from
white
eyes
,
as
though
they
knew
spring
held
the
world
,
though
neither
sunshine
warmed
them
nor
soft
earth
aided
their
struggle
for
life
.
Here
the
man
might
well
keep
his
canvas
and
other
matters
.
Assuming
that
temporary
possession
of
the
shed
was
possible
,
his
property
would
certainly
be
safe
enough
there
;
for
artists
are
respected
in
and
about
Newlyn
,
and
their
needs
considered
when
possible
.
A
farm
,
known
as
Middle
Hemyll
,
showed
gray
chimneys
above
the
fields
,
half
a
mile
distant
,
and
,
after
finding
the
shed
,
Barron
proceeded
thither
to
learn
its
ownership
.
The
master
of
Middle
Hemyll
speedily
enlightened
him
,
and
the
visitor
learned
that
not
only
did
he
speak
to
the
possessor
of
the
cow-byre
,
but
that
Farmer
Ford
was
a
keen
supporter
of
art
,
and
would
be
happy
to
rent
his
outhouse
for
a
moderate
consideration
.
"
The
land
ba
n't
under
pasture
now
,
an
'
the
plaace
ed'n
much
used
just
this
minute
,
so
you
'm
welcome
if
you
mind
to
.
My
auld
goat
did
live
theer
wance
,
but
er
's
dead
this
long
time
.
Maybe
you
seed
the
carcass
of
en
,
outside
?
I
'll
have
the
byre
cleared
come
to-morrer
;
an
'
if
so
be
you
wants
winders
in
the
roof
,
same
as
other
paintin
'
gents
,
you
'll
have
to
put
'
em
theer
wi
'
your
awn
money
.
"
Barron
explained
that
he
only
needed
the
shed
as
a
storehouse
for
his
picture
and
tools
.
"
Just
so
,
just
so
.
Then
you
'll
find
a
bwoy
wi
'
the
key
theer
to-morrer
,
an
'
all
vitty
;
an
'
you
can
pay
in
advancement
or
arter
,
as
you
please
to
.
Us
'll
say
half-a-crown
a
week
,
if
that
'll
soot
'
e
.
"
The
listener
produced
half-a-sovereign
,
much
to
Farmer
Ford
's
gratification
,
and
asked
that
a
lad
or
man
might
be
found
to
return
with
him
there
and
then
to
the
shed
.
"
I
am
anxious
to
see
the
place
and
have
it
in
order
before
I
go
back
to
Newlyn
,
"
he
explained
.
"
I
will
pay
you
extra
for
the
necessary
labor
,
and
it
should
not
take
above
an
hour
.
"
"
No
more
'
twill
,
an
'
I
'll
come
'
long
with
'
e
myself
this
minute
,
"
answered
the
other
.
Getting
a
key
to
the
padlock
,
and
a
big
birch
broom
,
he
returned
with
Barron
,
and
soon
had
the
doors
of
the
disused
byre
thrown
open
to
the
air
.
"
I
shut
en
up
when
the
auld
goat
went
dead
.
Theer
a
used
to
lie
in
the
corner
,
but
now
he
'm
outside
,
an
'
I
doubt
the
piskeys
,
what
they
talks
'
bout
,
be
mighty
savage
wi
'
me
for
not
buryin
'
the
beast
,
'
cause
all
fairies
is
'
dicted
to
goats
,
they
do
say
,
an
'
mighty
fond
o
'
the
milk
of
'
em
.
"
Farmer
Ford
soon
cleared
the
place
of
potatoes
,
sacks
,
and
tools
.
Then
,
taking
his
broom
,
he
made
a
clean
sweep
of
dust
and
dirt
.
"
Theer
's
a
many
more
rats
here
than
I
knawed
seemin'ly
,
"
he
said
,
as
he
examined
a
sink
in
the
stones
of
the
floor
,
used
for
draining
the
stalls
;
"
they
come
up
here
for
sartain
,
an
'
runs
out
'
long
the
heydge
to
the
mangel-wurzel
mound
,
I
lay
.
"
Without
,
evidences
of
the
vermin
were
clear
enough
.
Long
hardened
tracks
,
patted
down
by
many
paws
,
ran
this
way
and
that
;
and
the
main
rat
thoroughfare
extended
,
as
the
farmer
foretold
,
to
a
great
mound
where
,
stowed
snugly
in
straw
under
earth
,
lay
packed
the
remains
of
a
mangel-wurzel
crop
.
At
one
end
the
store
had
been
opened
and
drawn
upon
for
winter
use
;
but
a
goodly
pile
of
the
great
tawny
globes
still
remained
,
small
lemon-colored
leaves
sprouting
from
them
.
Farmer
Ford
,
however
,
viewed
the
treasure
without
satisfaction
.
"
Us
killed
a
power
o
'
sheep
wi
'
they
blarsted
roots
last
winter
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
'd
never
think
now
as
the
frost
could
touch
'
em
,
but
it
did
though
,
awin
'
to
the
wicked
long
winter
.
It
got
to
'
em
,
sure
'
nough
,
an
'
theer
was
frost
in
'
em
when
us
gived
'
em
to
the
sheep
,
an
'
it
rotted
theer
innards
,
poor
twoads
,
an
'
they
died
,
more'n
a
score
.
"
Barron
listened
thoughtfully
to
these
details
,
then
pointed
to
an
ugly
sight
beyond
the
wurzel
mound
.
"
I
should
like
that
removed
,
"
he
said
.
It
was
the
dead
goat
,
withered
to
a
mummy
almost
,
with
horns
and
hide
intact
,
and
a
rat-way
bored
through
the
body
of
the
beast
under
a
tunnel
of
its
ribs
.
"
Jimmery
!
to
see
what
them
varmints
have
done
to
'
en
!
But
I
'll
bury
what
's
left
right
on
en
;
an
'
I
'll
stop
the
sink
in
the
house
,
then
you
'll
be
free
of
'
em
.
"
These
things
the
farmer
did
,
and
presently
departed
,
promising
to
revisit
the
spot
ere
long
with
some
dogs
and
a
ferret
or
two
.
So
Barron
was
left
master
of
the
place
.
He
found
it
dry
,
weather-proof
and
well
suited
to
his
requirements
in
every
respect
.
The
concerns
which
he
had
ordered
from
London
would
be
with
him
by
Saturday
night
if
all
went
well
,
and
he
decided
that
they
should
be
conveyed
to
the
byre
at
an
early
hour
on
Monday
morning
.
The
next
day
was
Sunday
,
and
half
a
dozen
men
,
with
Barron
and
Murdoch
among
them
,
strolled
into
Brady
's
great
whitewashed
studio
to
see
and
criticise
his
academy
picture
which
was
finished
.
Everybody
declared
that
the
artist
had
excelled
himself
in
"
The
End
of
the
Voyage
.
"
It
represented
a
sweep
of
the
rocky
coast
by
the
Lizard
,
a
wide
gray
sand
,
left
naked
by
the
tide
,
with
the
fringe
of
a
heavy
sea
churning
on
it
,
and
sea-fowl
strutting
here
and
there
.
In
the
foreground
,
half
buried
under
tangles
of
brown
weed
torn
from
the
rocks
by
past
storms
,
lay
a
dead
sailor
,
and
a
big
herring-gull
,
with
its
head
on
one
side
and
a
world
of
inquiry
in
its
yellow
eyes
,
was
looking
at
him
.
Tremendous
vigor
marked
the
work
,
and
only
a
Brady
could
have
come
safely
through
the
difficulties
which
had
been
surmounted
in
its
creation
.
Everybody
sang
praises
,
and
Barron
nodded
warm
approval
,
but
said
nothing
until
challenged
.
"
Now
,
find
the
faults
,
then
tell
me
what
's
good
,
"
said
the
gigantic
painter
.
He
stood
there
,
burly
,
hearty
,
physically
splendid
—
the
man
of
all
others
in
that
throng
who
might
have
been
pointed
to
as
the
creator
of
the
solemn
gray
picture
before
them
.
"
Leave
fault-finding
to
Fleet
Street
,
"
said
Barron
;
"
let
the
press
people
tell
you
where
you
are
wrong
.
I
am
no
critic
and
I
know
what
a
mountain
of
hard
work
went
to
this
.
"
"
That
's
all
right
,
old
man
;
never
mind
the
work
—
or
me
.
Be
impartial
.
"
"
Why
should
I
?
To
be
impartial
,
as
this
world
wags
,
is
to
be
friendless
.
"
"
Good
Lord
!
d'you
think
I
mind
mauling
?
There
's
something
wrong
or
you
would
n't
be
so
deucedly
evasive
.
Out
with
it
!
"
"
Well
,
your
sailor
's
not
dead
.
"
Brady
roared
with
laughter
.
"
Man
!
the
poor
devil
's
been
in
the
water
a
week
!
"
"
Not
he
.
'
Tis
a
mistake
in
nine
painted
corpses
out
of
ten
.
If
you
want
to
paint
a
drowned
man
,
wait
till
you
've
seen
one
close
.
That
sailor
in
the
seaweed
's
asleep
.
Sleep
is
graceful
,
remember
;
death
by
drowning
is
generally
ugly
—
stiff
,
stark
,
hideous
,
eyeless
,
fish-gnawed
a
week
after
the
event
.
But
what
does
it
matter
?
You
've
painted
a
great
picture
.
That
sea
,
with
the
circular
swirl
,
as
each
wave
goes
back
into
the
belly
of
the
next
,
is
well
done
;
and
those
lumps
of
spume
fluttering
above
watermark
—
that
was
finely
noted
.
Easy
to
write
down
in
print
,
but
difficult
as
the
fiend
to
paint
.
And
the
picture
is
full
of
wind
too
.
Your
troubles
are
amply
repaid
and
I
congratulate
you
.
A
man
who
could
paint
that
will
go
as
far
as
he
likes
.
"
The
simple
Brady
forgot
the
powder
in
swallowing
the
jam
.
Barron
had
touched
those
things
in
his
work
which
were
precious
to
him
.
His
impulsive
nature
took
fire
,
and
there
was
almost
a
quiver
of
emotion
in
his
big
voice
as
he
answered
:
"
Damn
it
,
you
're
a
brick
!
I
'd
sooner
hear
you
praise
those
lumps
of
sea-spume
,
racing
over
the
sand
there
,
than
see
my
picture
on
the
line
.
"
But
sentiment
was
strange
to
John
Barron
's
impersonal
nature
,
and
he
froze
.
"
Another
fault
exists
which
probably
nobody
will
tell
you
but
me
.
Your
seaweed
's
great
,
and
you
knew
it
by
heart
before
you
painted
it
—
that
I
'll
swear
to
,
but
your
sleeper
there
would
never
lie
in
the
line
of
it
as
you
have
him
.
Reflect
:
the
sea
must
float
the
light
weed
after
it
could
move
him
no
more
.
He
should
be
stogged
in
the
sand
nearer
the
sea
.
"
Brady
,
however
,
contested
this
criticism
,
and
so
the
talk
wore
on
until
the
men
separated
.
But
the
Irishman
called
on
Barron
after
midday
dinner
and
together
they
strolled
through
Newlyn
toward
the
neighboring
village
.
Chance
brought
them
face
to
face
with
two
persons
more
vital
to
the
narrative
than
themselves
,
and
,
pausing
to
chronicle
the
event
of
the
meeting
,
we
may
leave
the
artists
and
follow
those
whom
they
encountered
.
Gray
Michael
kept
ashore
on
Sundays
,
and
today
,
having
come
off
the
sea
at
dawn
,
was
not
again
putting
forth
until
next
morning
.
He
had
attended
meeting
with
his
wife
,
his
daughter
and
his
son
;
he
had
dined
also
,
and
was
now
walking
over
to
Mousehole
that
he
might
bring
some
religious
comfort
to
a
sorely
stricken
Luke
Gospeler
—
a
young
sheep
but
lately
won
to
the
fold
and
who
now
lay
at
the
point
of
death
.
Joan
accompanied
him
,
and
upon
the
way
they
met
John
Barron
and
his
companion
.
The
girl
blushed
hotly
and
then
chilled
with
a
great
disappointment
,
for
Barron
's
eyes
were
on
the
sea
;
he
was
talking
as
he
passed
by
,
and
he
apparently
saw
neither
her
nor
her
Sunday
gown
;
which
circumstance
was
a
sorrow
to
Joan
.
But
in
reality
Barron
missed
nothing
.
He
had
shivered
at
her
green
dress
and
poor
finery
long
before
she
reached
him
.
Her
garb
ruffled
his
senses
and
left
him
wounded
.
"
There
goes
your
beauty
,
"
laughed
Brady
;
"
how
would
you
like
to
paint
her
in
that
frock
with
those
sinful
blue
flowers
in
her
hat
?
"
"
Nature
must
weep
to
see
the
bizarre
carnival
these
people
enjoy
on
the
Seventh
Day
,
"
answered
the
other
.
"
Their
duns
and
drabs
,
their
russets
and
tawny
tones
of
red
and
orange
,
are
of
their
environment
,
the
proper
skins
for
their
bodies
;
but
to
think
of
that
girl
brightening
the
eyes
of
a
hundred
louts
by
virtue
of
those
fine
feathers
!
Dream
of
her
in
the
Stone
Age
,
clad
in
a
petticoat
torn
from
a
wolf
,
with
her
straw-colored
hair
to
her
waist
and
a
necklace
of
shells
or
wild
beasts
'
teeth
between
her
breasts
!
And
the
man
—
her
father
,
I
suppose
—
what
a
picture
his
cursed
broadcloth
and
soft
black
hat
make
of
him
—
like
the
head
of
a
patriarch
stuck
on
a
tailor
's
dummy
.
"
Meanwhile
,
ignorant
of
these
startling
criticisms
,
Mr.
Tregenza
and
his
daughter
pursued
their
road
,
and
presently
stopped
before
a
cottage
in
one
of
the
cobble-paved
alley-ways
of
Mousehole
.
A
worn
old
woman
opened
the
door
and
courtesied
to
Gray
Michael
.
He
wished
her
good-afternoon
,
then
entered
the
cottage
,
first
bidding
Joan
return
in
an
hour
.
She
had
friends
near
at
hand
,
and
hurried
off
,
glad
to
escape
the
sight
of
sickness
and
the
prayers
she
knew
that
her
father
would
presently
deliver
.
"
How
be
en
?
"
inquired
the
fisherman
,
and
the
widowed
mother
of
the
patient
answered
:
"
Better
,
I
do
pray
.
Er
was
in
the
doldrums
issterday
an
'
bad
by
night
also
,
a
dwaling
an
'
moaning
gashly
,
but
,
the
Lard
be
praised
,
he
'm
better
in
mind
by
now
,
an
'
I
do
think
'
tis
more
along
of
Bible-readin
'
than
all
the
doctor
's
traade
[
Footnote
:
Traade
—
Physic
.
]
he
've
took
.
I
read
to
en
'
bout
that
theer
bwoy
,
the
awnly
son
o
'
his
mother
,
an
'
her
a
widder-wumman
,
an
'
how
as
the
Lard
brought
en
round
arter
he
'd
gone
dead
.
"
Gray
Michael
sniffed
and
made
no
comment
.
"
I
'll
see
en
an
'
put
up
a
prayer
or
so
,
"
he
said
.
"
An
'
the
Lard
'll
reward
it
,
Mr.
Tregenza
.
"
Young
Albert
Vallack
greeted
the
visitor
with
even
greater
reverence
than
his
mother
had
done
.
He
and
the
old
woman
were
Falmouth
folks
and
had
drifted
Westerly
upon
the
father
's
death
,
until
chance
anchored
them
in
Newlyn
.
Now
the
lad
—
a
dissolute
youth
enough
,
until
sudden
illness
had
frightened
him
to
religion
—
was
dying
of
consumption
,
and
dying
fast
,
though
as
yet
he
knew
it
not
.
"
'
Tis
handsome
in
you
,
a
comin
'
to
see
the
likes
o
'
me
,
"
said
the
patient
,
flushing
with
satisfaction
.
"
You
'm
like
the
stickler
at
a
wras'lin
'
match
,
Mister
Tregenza
,
sir
;
you
sees
fair
play
betwixt
God
an
'
man
.
"
"
So
you
'm
better
,
Albert
,
your
mother
sez
.
"
"
Iss
,
a
bit
.
Theer
's
more
kick
an
'
sprawl
[
Footnote
:
Kick
an
'
sprawl
—
Strength
,
vitality
.
]
in
me
than
theer
'
ave
bin
;
an
'
I
feels
more
hopeful
like
'
bout
the
future
.
"
Self-righteousness
in
a
new-fledged
Luke
Gospeler
,
who
had
been
of
the
fold
but
three
months
and
whose
previous
record
was
extremely
unsatisfactory
,
irritated
Gray
Michael
not
a
little
.
"
Bwoy
!
"
he
said
loudly
,
"
doa
n't
'
e
be
deceived
that
way
.
'
Gird
'
e
wi
'
sackcloth
,
lament
and
howl
;
for
the
fierce
anger
o
'
the
Lard
is
not
turned
back
from
us
.
'
Three
months
o
'
righteousness
is
a
purty
bad
set
off
'
gainst
twenty
years
o
'
sin
,
an
'
it
doa
n't
become
'
e
to
feel
hopeful
,
I
'
sure
ye
.
"
The
sick
man
's
color
paled
,
and
a
certain
note
as
of
triumph
in
his
voice
died
out
of
it
.
His
mother
had
left
them
,
feeling
that
her
presence
might
hinder
conversation
and
lessen
the
comfort
which
Mr.
Tregenza
had
brought
.
"
I
did
ought
to
be
chap-fall'n
,
I
s'pose
.
"
"
Iss
,
you
did
,
my
son
,
nobody
more'n
you
.
Maybe
you
'll
live
;
maybe
you
'll
die
;
but
keep
humble
.
I
doa
n't
wish
to
deceive
'
e
.
Us
ai
n't
had
time
to
make
no
certainty
'
bout
things
.
You
'm
in
the
Lard
's
hand
,
an
'
it
becomes
'
e
to
sing
small
,
an
'
remember
what
your
life
's
bin
.
"
The
other
grew
uneasy
and
his
voice
faltered
while
he
still
fought
for
a
happy
eternity
.
"
I
'd
felt
like
'
twas
all
right
arter
what
mother
read
.
"
"
Not
so
.
God
's
a
just
God
'
fore
everything
.
Theer
ed'n
no
favorin
'
wi
'
Him
.
I
hopes
you
'll
live
this
many
a
day
,
Vallack
;
an
'
then
,
when
your
hour
comes
,
you
'll
have
piled
up
a
tidy
record
an
'
can
go
wi
'
a
certainty
faacin
'
you
.
Seems
you
'm
better
,
an
'
us
at
chapel
's
prayed
hot
an
'
strong
to
the
Throne
that
you
might
be
left
to
work
out
your
salvation
now
your
foot
's
'
pon
the
right
road
.
"
"
But
if
I
dies
,
mister
?
"
"
'
The
prayer
of
the
righteous
man
availeth
much
,
'
"
answered
Gray
Michael
evasively
.
"
I
be
come
,
"
he
added
,
"
to
read
the
Scriptures
to
'
e
.
"
"
You
all
prayed
for
me
,
sir
?
"
"
Iss
,
every
man
,
but
theer
was
no
mincin
'
matters
,
Albert
.
Us
was
arskin
'
for
a
miserable
sinner
,
a
lost
sheep
awnly
just
strayed
back
,
an
'
we
put
it
plain
as
that
was
so
.
"
"
'
Tweer
mighty
kind
o
'
the
Luke
Gosp'lers
,
sir
.
"
"
'
Twas
their
dooty
.
Now
I
be
gwaine
to
read
the
Book
.
"
"
I
feels
that
uneasy
now
,
"
whined
the
sufferer
,
in
a
voice
where
fear
spoke
instead
of
hope
,
"
but
I
s'pose
'
tis
a
sign
o
'
graace
I
should
be
?
"
"
Iss
,
'
tis
.
I
've
comed
to
tell
'
e
the
truth
,
for
'
tis
ill
as
a
man
should
be
blind
to
facts
on
what
may
be
his
last
bed
'
bove
the
airth
.
Listen
to
this
,
my
son
,
an
'
if
theer
's
anything
you
doa
n't
onderstand
,
arsk
me
an
'
I
'll
thraw
light
'
pon
it
.
"
He
read
,
with
loud
,
slow
voice
,
the
fifty-fifth
chapter
of
Isaiah
,
and
that
glorious
clarion
of
great
promise
gave
Michael
the
lie
and
drowned
his
own
religious
opinions
as
thunder
drowns
the
croaking
of
marsh
frogs
;
but
he
knew
it
not
.
The
brighter
burned
his
own
shining
light
,
the
blacker
the
shadows
it
threw
upon
the
future
of
all
sinners
.
As
Tregenza
finished
and
put
down
his
Bible
,
the
other
spoke
and
quoted
eagerly
:
"
'
Incline
your
ear
an
'
come
unto
Me
;
fear
,
an
'
your
sawl
shall
live
!
'
Theer
do
seem
a
hope
in
that
if
it
ed'n
awver-bold
me
thinkin
'
so
?
"
he
asked
.
"
That
's
like
them
Church
o
'
Englanders
,
a
tearin
'
wan
text
away
from
t'others
an
'
readin
'
it
accordin
'
as
they
pleases
.
I
'll
expound
it
all
to
wance
,
as
a
God-fearin
'
man
did
ought
to
treat
the
Scriptures
.
"
Gray
Michael
's
exposition
illustrated
nothing
beyond
his
own
narrow
intellectual
limitations
.
His
cold
cloud
of
words
obscured
the
prophet
's
sunshine
,
and
the
light
went
out
of
the
dying
man
's
eyes
,
leaving
only
alarm
.
He
trembled
on
the
brink
of
the
horrid
truth
;
he
