Idid
n't
.
"
"
An
'
what
did
this
here
misty
sort
o
'
maid
say
to
'
e
?
"
"
Strange
things
,
strange
things
.
Things
I
would
give
a
great
deal
to
hear
you
say
.
It
seemed
that
you
had
come
,
Joan
,
it
seemed
that
you
had
purposely
come
from
your
little
cottage
on
the
cliff
through
the
darkness
before
dawn
.
Why
?
To
share
my
loneliness
,
to
brighten
my
poor
shadowy
life
.
Dreams
are
funny
things
,
are
they
not
?
What
d'you
think
you
said
?
"
"
Sure
I
dunnaw
.
"
"
Why
,
you
said
that
you
were
not
going
to
leave
me
any
more
;
that
you
believed
in
me
and
that
you
had
come
to
me
because
it
was
bad
for
a
man
to
live
all
alone
in
the
world
.
You
said
that
you
felt
alone
too
—
without
me
.
And
it
made
me
feel
happy
to
hear
you
say
that
,
though
I
knew
,
all
the
time
,
that
it
was
not
the
real
beautiful
Joan
who
spoke
to
me
.
"
Thereupon
the
girl
asked
a
question
which
seemed
to
argue
some
sharpening
of
intelligence
within
her
.
"
An
'
when
I
spoke
that
,
what
did
you
say
,
Mister
Jan
?
"
"
I
did
n't
say
anything
at
all
.
I
just
took
that
sweet
Joan-of-dreams
into
my
arms
and
kissed
her
.
"
He
was
looking
listlessly
out
over
the
sea
as
he
spoke
,
and
Joan
felt
thankful
his
eyes
were
turned
away
from
her
,
for
this
wonderful
dream
incident
made
her
grow
hot
all
over
.
He
seemed
to
divine
by
her
silence
that
his
answer
to
her
question
had
not
added
to
her
happiness
.
"
I
should
n't
have
told
you
that
,
Joan
,
only
you
asked
me
.
You
see
,
in
dreams
,
we
are
real
in
some
senses
,
though
unreal
in
others
.
In
dreams
the
savage
part
of
us
comes
to
the
top
and
Nature
can
whisper
to
us
.
She
chooses
night
to
do
so
and
often
speaks
to
men
in
visions
,
because
by
day
the
voice
of
the
world
is
in
their
ears
and
they
have
no
attention
for
any
other
.
It
was
strange
,
too
,
that
I
should
fancy
such
a
thing
—
should
imagine
I
was
kissing
you
—
because
I
never
kissed
a
woman
in
my
life
.
"
But
from
her
point
of
view
this
falsehood
was
not
so
alluring
as
he
meant
to
make
it
sound
.
"
'
Twould
be
wrong
to
kiss
any
maiden
,
I
reckon
,
onless
you
was
tokened
to
her
or
she
were
your
awn
sister
.
"
"
But
,
as
we
look
at
life
,
we
're
all
brothers
and
sisters
,
Joan
—
with
Nature
for
our
mother
.
We
agreed
about
that
long
ago
.
"
He
turned
to
his
easel
,
and
she
went
and
stood
where
her
feet
had
already
made
a
brown
mark
on
the
grass
.
"
I
seen
you
last
night
,
but
you
dedn
'
see
me
,
"
she
said
,
changing
the
conversation
with
abruptness
.
"
Yes
,
I
did
,
"
he
answered
,
"
sitting
under
the
shadow
of
the
lighthouse
,
waiting
for
Mr.
Tregenza
,
I
expect
.
"
"
An
'
you
never
took
no
note
o
'
me
!
"
He
flung
down
his
brushes
,
turned
away
from
the
picture
before
he
had
touched
it
,
and
went
and
lay
near
the
edge
of
the
cliff
.
"
Come
here
,
Joan
,
and
I
will
tell
you
why
I
did
n't
notice
you
,
though
I
longed
to
do
so
.
Come
and
sit
down
by
me
and
I
'll
explain
why
I
seemed
so
rude
.
"
She
came
slowly
and
sat
down
some
distance
from
him
,
putting
her
elbows
on
her
knees
and
looking
away
to
sea
.
"
'
Tweer
n't
kind
,
"
she
said
,
"
but
when
you
'm
with
other
folks
,
I
s'pose
you
'm
ashamed
o
'
me
'
spite
what
you
tawld
me
'
bout
yourself
.
"
"
You
must
n't
say
that
,
Joan
,
or
you
'll
make
me
unhappy
.
Ashamed
of
you
!
Is
it
likely
I
'm
ashamed
of
the
only
friend
I
've
got
in
the
world
?
No
,
I
'm
frightened
of
losing
you
;
I
'm
selfish
;
I
could
n't
make
you
known
to
any
other
man
because
I
should
be
afraid
you
'd
like
him
better
than
me
,
and
then
I
should
have
no
friend
at
all
.
So
I
would
n't
speak
and
reveal
my
treasure
to
anybody
else
.
I
'm
very
fond
of
my
friend
,
and
very
proud
of
her
,
and
as
greedy
as
a
miser
over
his
gold
.
"
Joan
took
a
long
breath
before
this
tremendous
assertion
.
He
had
told
her
in
so
many
words
that
he
was
fond
of
her
;
and
he
had
mentioned
it
most
casually
as
a
point
long
since
decided
.
Here
was
the
question
which
she
had
asked
herself
so
often
answered
once
for
all
.
Her
heart
leaped
at
tidings
of
great
joy
,
and
as
she
looked
up
into
his
face
the
man
saw
infinite
wonder
and
delight
in
her
own
.
Mind
was
adding
beauty
to
flesh
,
and
he
,
fast
losing
the
artist
's
instinct
before
another
,
thought
she
had
never
looked
so
lovely
as
then
.
"
Oh
,
Mister
Jan
,
you
'm
fond
o
'
me
!
"
"
Why
,
did
n't
you
know
it
,
Joan
?
Did
it
want
my
words
to
tell
you
so
?
Had
n't
you
guessed
it
?
"
He
rose
slowly
and
approached
his
picture
.
"
Oh
,
how
I
wish
this
was
a
little
more
like
my
dream
and
like
reality
!
I
need
inspiration
,
Joan
;
I
have
reached
a
point
beyond
which
I
cannot
go
.
My
colors
are
dead
;
my
soul
is
dead
.
Something
must
happen
to
me
or
I
shall
never
finish
this
.
"
"
Ba
n't
you
so
well
as
you
was
?
"
"
No
,
Joan
,
I
'm
not
.
A
thing
has
come
between
me
and
my
happiness
,
between
me
and
my
picture
.
I
know
not
what
to
call
it
.
Nature
has
sent
it
.
"
"
Then
'
tis
right
an
'
proper
,
I
s'pose
?
"
"
I
suppose
so
,
but
it
stops
work
.
It
makes
my
hand
shake
and
my
heart
throb
fast
and
my
brains
grow
hot
.
"
"
Ca
n't
'
e
take
no
physic
for't
?
"
"
Why
,
yes
,
but
I
hesitate
.
"
He
turned
to
her
and
went
close
to
her
.
"
Let
me
look
at
you
,
Joan
—
close
—
very
close
—
so
close
that
I
can
feel
your
breath
.
It
was
so
easy
to
learn
the
furze
;
it
is
so
hard
to
learn
you
.
"
"
Sure
I
've
comed
out
butivul
in
the
picksher
.
"
"
Not
yet
,
not
yet
.
"
He
put
his
hands
on
her
shoulders
and
looked
into
her
eyes
until
she
grew
nervous
and
brushed
her
hand
across
her
cheek
.
Then
,
without
a
second
's
warning
,
he
bent
down
and
kissed
her
on
the
mouth
.
"
Mister
Jan
!
How
could
'
e
!
'
Tis
wrong
—
wrong
of
'
e
!
I
'd
never
a
thot
—
"
She
started
from
him
,
wild
,
alarmed
,
blushing
hotly
;
and
he
shook
his
head
at
her
dismay
and
answered
very
calmly
,
very
seriously
:
"
It
was
not
wrong
,
Joan
,
or
I
should
not
have
done
it
.
You
heard
me
ask
to
whom
I
should
pray
for
inspiration
,
and
Nature
told
me
I
must
seek
it
from
you
.
And
I
have
.
"
"
You
should
n't
never
a
done
it
.
I
trusted
'
e
so
!
"
"
But
I
had
to
do
it
.
Nature
said
'
Kiss
her
,
and
you
will
find
what
you
want
.
'
Do
you
understand
that
?
I
have
touched
you
and
I
am
awake
and
alive
again
;
I
have
touched
you
,
Joan
,
and
I
am
not
hopeless
and
sad
,
but
happy
.
Nature
thought
of
me
,
Joan
,
when
she
made
you
and
brought
you
into
the
world
;
and
she
thought
of
sweet
Joan
when
she
fashioned
Jan.
Believe
it
—
you
must
believe
it
.
"
"
You
did
ought
to
a
arsked
me
.
"
"
Listen
.
Nature
let
you
live
quiet
in
the
country
—
for
me
,
Joan
.
She
let
me
live
all
lonely
in
the
world
—
for
you
.
Only
for
you
.
Ca
n't
you
understand
?
"
"
You
did
ought
to
a
arsked
me
.
Kissing
be
wrong
'
tween
us
.
You
knaws
it
,
Mr.
Jan.
"
"
It
is
right
and
proper
and
fair
and
beautiful
,
"
he
said
quietly
.
"
My
heart
sang
when
I
kissed
you
,
Joan
,
and
so
did
yours
.
D'you
know
why
?
Because
we
are
two
halves
of
a
whole
.
Because
the
sunshine
of
your
life
would
go
out
without
me
;
because
my
life
,
which
never
had
any
sunshine
in
it
until
now
,
has
been
full
of
sunshine
since
I
knew
Joan
.
"
"
I
dunnaw
.
'
Twadden
a
proper
thing
to
do
,
seein
'
how
I
trusted
'
e
.
"
"
We
are
children
of
Nature
,
Joan
.
I
always
do
what
she
tells
me
.
I
ca
n't
help
it
.
I
have
obeyed
her
all
my
life
.
She
tells
me
to
love
you
,
Joan
,
and
I
do
.
I
'm
very
sorry
.
I
thought
she
had
told
you
to
love
me
,
but
I
suppose
I
was
wrong
.
Never
mind
this
once
.
Forgive
me
,
Joan
.
I
'll
even
fight
Nature
rather
than
make
you
angry
with
me
.
Let
me
finish
my
picture
and
go
away
.
Come
.
I
've
no
business
to
waste
your
precious
time
,
though
you
have
been
so
kind
and
generous
with
it
.
Only
I
was
tired
and
hopeless
and
you
came
like
a
drink
of
wine
to
me
,
Joan
;
and
I
drank
too
much
,
I
suppose
.
"
He
picked
up
his
brushes
,
spoke
in
a
sad
minor
key
,
and
seemed
crushed
and
weary
.
The
flash
died
from
his
face
and
he
looked
older
again
.
Joan
,
the
mistress
of
the
situation
,
found
it
wholly
bitter
.
She
was
bewildered
,
for
affairs
had
proceeded
with
such
rapidity
.
He
had
declared
frankly
that
he
loved
her
,
and
yet
had
stopped
there
.
To
her
ideas
it
was
impossible
that
a
man
should
say
as
much
as
that
to
a
woman
and
no
more
.
Love
invariably
meant
ultimate
union
for
life
,
Joan
thought
.
She
could
not
understand
any
other
end
to
it
.
The
man
talked
about
Nature
as
a
little
child
talks
of
its
mother
.
He
had
deemed
himself
entirely
in
the
right
;
yet
something
—
not
Nature
,
she
supposed
—
had
told
her
that
he
was
wrong
.
But
who
was
she
to
judge
him
?
Who
was
she
to
say
where
his
conduct
erred
?
He
loved
truth
.
It
was
not
a
lie
to
kiss
a
girl
.
He
promised
nothing
.
How
could
he
promise
anything
or
propose
anything
?
Was
she
not
another
man
's
sweetheart
?
That
doubtless
had
been
the
reason
why
he
had
said
no
more
than
that
he
loved
her
.
To
love
her
could
be
no
sin
.
Nature
had
told
him
to
;
and
God
knew
how
she
loved
him
now
.
But
she
could
not
make
it
up
with
him
.
A
cold
curtain
seemed
to
have
fallen
between
them
.
The
old
reserve
which
had
only
melted
after
many
meetings
,
was
upon
him
again
.
He
stood
,
as
it
seemed
,
on
the
former
pedestal
.
A
strange
,
surging
sensation
filled
her
head
—
a
sense
of
helpless
fighting
against
a
flood
of
unhappy
affairs
.
All
the
new
glory
of
life
was
suddenly
tarnished
through
her
own
act
,
and
she
felt
that
things
could
never
be
the
same
again
.
She
thought
and
thought
.
Then
John
Barron
saw
Joan
's
blue
eyes
begin
to
wink
ominously
,
the
corners
of
her
bonny
mouth
drag
down
and
something
bright
twinkle
over
her
cheek
.
He
took
no
notice
,
and
when
he
looked
up
again
,
she
had
moved
away
and
was
sitting
on
the
grass
crying
bitterly
with
her
hands
over
her
face
.
The
sun
was
bright
,
a
lark
sang
overhead
;
from
adjacent
inland
fields
came
the
jolt
and
clank
of
a
plow
with
a
man
's
voice
calling
to
his
horses
at
the
turns
.
The
artist
put
down
his
palette
and
walked
over
to
Joan
.
"
My
dear
,
my
dear
,
"
he
said
,
"
d'you
know
what
's
making
you
so
unhappy
?
"
She
sobbed
on
and
did
not
answer
.
"
I
can
tell
you
,
I
think
.
You
do
n't
quite
know
whether
to
believe
me
or
not
,
Joan
.
That
is
very
natural
.
Why
should
you
believe
me
?
And
yet
if
you
knew
—
"
She
sat
up
,
swallowed
some
of
her
tears
,
and
smudged
her
face
with
her
knuckles
.
He
took
a
clean
handkerchief
from
his
pocket
and
handed
it
to
her
.
It
was
cool
and
pleasant
,
and
she
went
on
crying
a
while
,
but
tears
which
were
comforting
and
different
to
the
first
stinging
drops
bred
from
a
sudden
,
forlorn
survey
of
life
.
He
talked
on
,
and
his
voice
soothed
her
.
He
kept
his
distance
,
and
presently
,
as
her
ruffled
spirit
grew
calmer
,
his
remarks
assumed
a
brighter
note
.
"
Has
my
poor
little
Lady
of
the
Gorse
forgiven
me
at
last
?
She
wo
n't
punish
me
any
more
,
I
know
,
and
it
is
a
very
terrible
punishment
to
see
tears
in
her
eyes
.
"
Then
she
found
her
tongue
again
and
words
to
answer
him
,
together
with
fluttering
sighs
that
told
the
tears
were
ended
.
"
I
dunnaw
why
for
I
cried
,
Mr.
Jan
,
but
I
seemed
'
mazed
like
.
I
'm
a
stupid
fule
of
a
maid
,
I
reckon
,
an
'
I
s'pose
'
tis
auld-fashioned
notions
as
I
've
got
'
bout
what
be
right
an
'
wrong
.
But
,
coorse
,
you
knaws
better'n
what
I
can
;
an
'
you
'd
do
me
no
hurt
'
cause
you
loves
me
—
you
've
said
it
;
an
'
—
an
'
—
I
love
'
e
tu
,
Mister
Jan
,
I
'
sure
'
e
—
better'n
anything
in
all
the
world
.
"
"
Why
,
that
's
good
,
sweet
news
,
Joan
;
and
Nature
told
me
the
truth
after
all
!
We
're
bound
to
love
one
another
.
She
made
us
for
that
very
reason
!
"
He
knew
that
her
mind
was
full
of
the
tangles
of
life
and
that
she
wanted
him
to
solve
some
of
the
riddles
just
then
uppermost
in
her
own
existence
.
He
felt
that
Joe
was
in
her
thoughts
,
and
he
easily
divined
her
unuttered
question
as
to
why
Nature
had
sent
Joe
before
she
had
sent
him
.
But
,
though
answers
and
explanations
of
her
troubles
were
not
likely
to
be
difficult
,
he
had
no
wish
to
make
them
or
to
pursue
the
subject
just
then
.
Indeed
,
he
bid
Joan
depart
an
hour
before
she
need
have
done
so
.
Her
face
was
spoiled
for
that
sitting
,
and
matters
had
progressed
up
to
the
threshold
of
the
barrier
.
Before
that
could
be
broken
down
,
she
must
be
made
to
feel
that
she
was
necessary
to
the
happiness
of
his
life
;
as
he
already
felt
that
she
was
necessary
to
the
completion
of
his
picture
.
She
loved
him
very
dearly
,
and
he
,
though
love
was
not
possible
to
his
nature
,
could
feel
the
substitute
.
He
had
fairly
stepped
out
of
his
impersonal
shell
into
reality
.
Presently
he
would
return
to
his
shell
again
.
For
a
moment
a
model
had
grown
more
to
him
than
a
picture
;
and
he
told
himself
that
he
must
obey
Nature
in
order
adequately
to
serve
Art
.
He
picked
up
the
handkerchief
he
had
lent
Joan
,
looked
at
the
dampness
of
the
tear-stains
,
and
then
spread
it
in
the
sun
to
dry
.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
JOAN
WALKS
HOME
While
John
Barren
determined
that
a
space
of
time
extending
over
some
days
should
now
separate
him
from
Joan
,
she
,
for
her
part
,
had
scarce
left
Gorse
Point
after
the
conversation
just
chronicled
when
there
came
a
great
longing
in
her
heart
to
return
thither
.
As
she
walked
home
she
viewed
wearily
the
hours
which
lay
between
her
and
the
following
morning
when
she
might
go
back
to
him
and
see
his
face
again
.
Time
promised
to
drag
for
the
next
day
and
night
.
Already
she
framed
in
her
mind
the
things
her
mouth
should
say
to-morrow
;
and
that
almost
before
she
was
beyond
sight
of
the
man
's
easel
.
Her
fears
had
vanished
with
her
tears
.
The
future
was
entirely
in
his
hand
now
,
for
she
had
accepted
his
teaching
,
endeavored
to
look
at
life
with
his
eyes
,
made
his
God
her
own
,
so
far
as
she
had
wit
to
gather
what
his
God
was
.
She
accepted
the
situation
with
trust
,
and
felt
responsibility
shifted
on
to
"
Mister
Jan
's
"
shoulders
with
infinite
relief
.
He
was
very
wise
and
knew
everything
and
loved
the
truth
.
It
is
desirable
to
harp
and
harp
upon
this
ever-recurring
thought
:
the
artist
's
grand
love
for
truth
;
because
all
channels
of
Joan
's
mind
flowed
into
this
lake
.
His
sincerity
begat
absolute
trust
.
And
,
as
John
Barren
and
his
words
and
thoughts
filled
the
foreground
of
life
for
her
,
so
,
correspondingly
,
did
the
affairs
of
her
home
,
with
all
the
circumstances
of
existence
in
the
old
environment
,
peak
and
dwindle
toward
shadowy
insignificance
.
Her
father
lost
his
majestic
proportions
;
the
Luke
Gospelers
became
mere
objects
for
compassion
;
the
petty
,
temporal
interests
and
concerns
of
the
passing
hour
appeared
mere
worthless
affairs
for
the
occupation
and
waste
of
time
.
"
Mister
Jan
"
loved
her
,
and
she
loved
him
,
and
what
else
mattered
?
Past
hours
of
unrest
and
wakefulness
were
forgotten
;
her
tears
washed
the
dead
anxieties
clean
away
;
and
the
kiss
which
had
caused
them
,
though
it
scorched
her
lip
when
it
fell
there
,
was
now
set
as
a
seal
and
a
crowning
glory
to
her
life
.
He
never
kissed
any
other
woman
.
That
pledge
of
this
rare
man
's
affection
had
been
won
by
the
magic
of
love
,
and
Joan
welcomed
Nature
gladly
and
called
it
God
with
a
warm
heart
and
thankful
soul
;
for
Nature
had
brought
about
this
miracle
.
Her
former
religion
worked
no
wonders
;
it
had
only
conveyed
terror
to
her
and
a
comprehensive
knowledge
of
hell
.
"
Mister
Jan
"
smiled
at
hell
and
she
could
laugh
at
her
old
fears
.
How
was
it
possible
to
hesitate
between
two
such
creeds
?
She
did
not
do
so
,
and
,
with
final
acceptation
of
the
new
,
and
secret
rejection
of
the
old
,
came
a
great
peace
to
Joan
's
heart
with
the
whisper
of
many
voices
telling
her
that
she
had
done
rightly
.
So
the
storm
gave
place
to
periods
of
delicious
calm
and
content
only
clouded
by
a
longing
to
be
back
with
the
artist
again
.
He
loved
her
;
the
voice
of
his
love
was
the
song
of
the
spring
weather
,
and
the
thrush
echoed
it
and
the
early
flowers
wrote
it
on
the
hedgerows
.
God
was
everywhere
to
her
open
eyes
.
Everything
that
was
beautiful
,
everything
that
was
good
,
seemed
to
have
been
created
for
her
delight
during
that
homeward
walk
.
She
was
mightily
lifted
up
.
Nature
seemed
so
strong
,
so
kind
,
such
a
guardian
angel
for
a
maiden
.
And
the
birds
sang
out
that
"
Mister
Jan
"
was
Nature
's
priest
and
could
do
no
wrong
;
and
that
to
obey
Nature
was
the
highest
good
.
From
which
reflection
rose
a
hazy
happiness
—
dim
,
beautiful
and
indefinable
as
the
twinkling
gold
upon
the
sea
under
the
throne
of
the
sun
.
Joan
dwelt
on
the
memory
of
the
day
which
was
now
over
for
her
,
and
on
the
thought
of
morning
hours
which
to-morrow
would
bring
.
But
she
looked
no
further
;
and
backward
she
did
not
gaze
at
all
.
No
thought
of
Joe
Noy
dimmed
her
mental
delight
;
no
shadowy
cloud
darkened
the
horizon
then
.
All
was
bright
,
all
perfect
.
Her
mind
seemed
to
be
breaking
its
little
case
,
as
the
butterfly
bursts
the
chrysalis
.
Her
life
till
then
had
been
mere
grub
existence
;
now
she
could
fly
and
had
seen
the
sun
drawing
the
scent
from
flowers
.
Great
ideas
filled
her
soul
;
new
emotions
awoke
;
she
was
like
a
baby
trying
to
utter
the
thing
he
has
no
word
for
;
her
vocabulary
broke
down
under
the
strain
,
and
as
she
walked
she
gave
thanks
to
Nature
in
a
mere
wordless
song
,
like
the
lark
,
because
she
could
not
put
her
acknowledgment
into
language
.
But
the
great
Mother
,
to
whom
Life
is
all
in
all
,
the
living
individual
nothing
,
looked
on
at
a
world
wakening
from
sleep
and
viewed
the
loves
of
the
flowers
and
the
loves
of
the
birds
and
beasts
and
fishes
with
concern
as
keen
as
the
love
in
the
blue
eyes
of
Joan
upon
her
homeward
way
.
Busy
indeed
at
this
vernal
season
was
the
mysterious
Nurse
of
God
's
little
world
.
Her
hands
rested
not
from
her
labors
.
She
worked
strange
wonders
on
the
waste
,
by
magic
of
a
million
breaking
buds
,
by
burying
of
the
dead
,
by
wafting
of
subtle
pollen-life
from
blossom
to
blossom
.
And
in
cliffs
above
the
green
waters
the
nests
of
her
wild-fowl
were
already
lined
with
wool
and
feather
;
neither
were
her
samphires
forgotten
in
their
dizzy
habitations
;
and
salt
spray
sprinkled
her
uncurling
sea
ferns
in
caves
and
crannies
where
they
grew
.
She
laughed
at
the
porpoises
rolling
their
fat
sides
into
sunshine
;
she
brought
the
sea-otter
where
it
should
find
fish
for
its
young
;
she
led
giant
congers
to
drowned
men
;
she
patted
the
sleek
head
of
the
sad-eyed
seal
.
Elsewhere
she
showed
the
father-hawk
a
leveret
crouching
in
his
form
;
she
took
young
rabbits
to
the
new
spring
grass
;
the
fox
to
the
fowl
,
the
fly
to
the
spider
,
the
blight
to
the
bud
.
Her
weakly
nestlings
fell
from
tree
and
cliff
to
die
,
but
she
beheld
unmoved
;
her
weasel
sucked
the
gray-bird
's
egg
,
yet
no
hand
was
raised
against
the
thief
,
no
voice
comforted
the
screaming
agony
of
the
mother
.
With
the
van
of
her
legions
she
moved
,
and
the
suffering
stragglers
cried
in
vain
,
for
her
concerns
were
not
with
them
.
She
did
no
right
,
she
worked
no
evil
;
she
was
not
cruel
,
neither
shall
we
call
her
kind
.
The
servant
of
God
was
she
,
then
as
always
,
heedful
of
His
utterances
,
obedient
to
His
laws
.
Which
laws
,
when
man
better
divines
,
he
shall
learn
thy
secret
too
,
Nurse
of
the
world
,
but
not
sooner
.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
LONELY
DAYS
Having
already
learned
from
experience
that
hard
work
quickens
the
flight
of
time
,
Joan
,
returning
in
happy
mood
to
her
home
and
with
no
trace
of
the
past
tears
upon
her
cheeks
,
surprised
Mrs.
Tregenza
by
a
display
of
most
unusual
energy
and
activity
.
She
helped
the
butcher
to
get
the
pig
into
a
low
cart
built
expressly
for
the
conveyance
of
such
unwieldy
animals
;
she
looked
mournfully
at
her
departing
companion
,
knowing
that
the
morrow
had
nothing
for
him
but
a
knife
,
that
he
had
eaten
his
last
meal
.
And
while
Joan
listened
to
the
farewell
grunts
of
the
fattest
pig
which
had
ever
adorned
her
father
's
sty
,
Mrs.
Tregenza
counted
the
money
and
bit
a
piece
here
and
there
,
and
wondered
if
she
could
get
the
next
young
pig
from
Uncle
Chirgwin
for
even
a
lower
figure
than
the
last
.
The
day
which
had
wrought
such
wonders
for
Joan
's
inner
life
,
and
brought
to
her
eyes
a
sort
of
tears
unshed
till
then
,
ended
at
last
,
and
for
her
a
sleepless
night
followed
upon
it
.
Not
until
long
past
one
o'clock
in
the
morning
did
she
lose
consciousness
,
and
then
the
thoughts
of
the
day
broke
loose
again
in
visions
,
taking
upon
themselves
fantastic
shapes
and
moving
amid
dream
scenery
of
strange
splendor
.
Now
it
was
her
turn
to
conjure
brain
pictures
out
of
fevered
thoughts
,
and
she
woke
at
last
with
a
start
in
the
dawn
,
to
see
a
faint
light
painting
the
square
of
her
bedroom
window
.
Looking
out
,
she
found
the
world
dimly
visible
,
a
darker
shadow
through
the
gloom
where
the
fishing-boats
were
gathering
in
the
bay
,
the
lighthouse
lamp
still
shining
,
stars
twinkling
overhead
,
absolute
silence
everywhere
,
and
a
cold
bite
about
the
air
.
The
girl
went
back
to
bed
again
,
but
slept
no
more
and
anon
arose
,
dressed
,
set
about
morning
duties
,
and
,
much
to
Mrs.
Tregenza
's
astonishment
,
had
the
fire
burning
and
breakfast
ready
by
the
time
her
stepmother
appeared
.
"
Aw
jimmery
!
"
Thomasin
exclaimed
,
as
Joan
came
in
from
the
outhouse
to
find
her
warming
cold
hands
at
the
fire
,
"
I
could
n't
b'lieve
my
eyes
at
first
an
'
thot
the
piskey
men
had
come
to
do
us
a
turn
spite
o
'
what
faither
sez
.
You
've
turned
over
a
leaf
seemin'ly
.
Workin
'
out
o
'
core
be
a
new
game
for
you
.
"
"
I
couldn
'
sleep
for
thinkin
'
'
bout
—
'
bout
the
pig
an
'
wan
thing
an
'
'
nother
.
"
"
He
's
pork
now
,
or
nearly
.
You
heard
butcher
promise
me
some
nattlins
,
dedn
'
'
e
?
You
'd
best
walk
up
to
Paul
bimebye
an
'
fetch
,
'
em
.
'
Tis
easier
to
call
to
mind
other
folk
's
promises
than
our
awn
.
He
said
the
same
last
pig-killin
'
an
'
it
comed
to
nort
.
"
Joan
escaped
soon
after
breakfast
and
set
off
eagerly
enough
.
She
took
a
basket
with
her
and
designed
to
call
at
Paul
on
the
way
home
again
.
Moreover
,
she
chose
a
longer
route
to
Gorse
Point
than
that
through
Mousehole
,
for
her
very
regular
habits
of
late
had
caused
some
comment
in
that
village
,
and
more
than
one
acquaintance
had
asked
her
,
half
in
jest
,
half
in
earnest
,
who
it
was
she
went
to
see
up
Mousehole
hill
.
This
had
frightened
Joan
twice
already
,
and
to-day
,
for
the
first
time
,
she
took
the
longer
route
above
Paul
Church-town
.
It
brought
her
over
fields
near
the
cow-byre
where
Barren
spent
much
of
his
time
and
kept
his
picture
;
and
when
she
saw
her
footpath
must
pass
the
door
of
the
little
house
,
a
flutter
quickened
her
pulses
and
she
branched
away
over
the
field
and
proceeded
to
the
cliffs
through
a
gap
in
the
hedge
some
distance
from
the
byre
.
But
as
Joan
came
out
upon
the
sward
through
the
furzes
her
heart
sank
in
sight
of
loneliness
.
She
was
not
early
to-day
,
but
she
had
come
earlier
than
"
Mister
Jan.
"
The
gray
figure
was
invisible
.
There
were
the
marks
on
the
turf
where
his
easel
and
camp-stool
stood
;
there
was
the
spot
his
feet
were
wont
to
press
,
and
her
own
standing-point
against
the
glimmering
gorse
;
but
that
was
all
.
She
knew
of
no
reason
for
his
delay
.
The
weather
was
splendid
,
the
day
was
warm
,
and
he
had
never
been
so
late
before
within
her
recollection
.
Joan
,
much
wondering
,
sat
down
to
wait
with
her
eyes
upon
the
sea
,
her
ears
alert
for
the
first
footstep
,
and
her
mind
listening
also
.
Time
passed
,
and
indefinite
uneasiness
grew
into
a
fear
;
then
that
expanded
and
multiplied
as
her
mind
approached
the
problem
of
"
Mister
Jan
's
"
non-appearance
from
a
dozen
different
standpoints
.
Hope
declared
some
private
concern
had
kept
him
and
he
would
not
be
long
in
coming
;
fear
inquired
what
unforeseen
incident
was
likely
to
have
risen
since
yesterday
—
asked
the
question
and
answered
it
a
dozen
ways
.
The
girl
waited
,
walked
here
and
there
,
scanned
the
footpath
and
the
road
,
returned
,
sat
down
in
patience
,
ate
a
cake
she
had
brought
,
and
so
whiled
the
long
minutes
away
.
The
fears
grew
as
hour
and
half-hour
passed
—
fears
for
him
,
not
herself
.
The
crowning
despair
did
not
touch
her
mind
till
later
,
and
her
first
sorrow
was
a
simple
terror
that
harm
had
fallen
upon
the
man
.
He
had
told
her
that
he
valued
life
but
little
,
that
at
best
no
great
length
of
days
awaited
him
;
and
now
she
thought
that
wandering
about
the
cliffs
by
night
he
might
have
met
the
death
he
did
not
fear
.
Then
she
remembered
he
was
but
a
sick
man
always
,
with
frail
breathing
parts
;
and
her
thoughts
turned
to
the
shed
,
and
she
pictured
him
lying
ill
there
,
unable
to
communicate
with
friends
,
perhaps
waiting
and
praying
long
hours
for
her
footfall
as
she
had
been
waiting
and
praying
for
his
.
Upon
this
most
plausible
possibility
striking
Joan
,
her
heart
beat
at
her
breast
and
her
cheeks
grew
white
.
She
rose
from
her
seat
upon
the
cliff
,
turned
her
face
to
the
cow-byre
and
made
a
few
quick
steps
in
that
direction
.
Then
a
vague
flutter
of
sense
,
as
of
warning
where
no
danger
is
visible
,
slowed
her
speed
for
a
moment
;
but
her
heart
was
strung
to
action
,
and
the
strange
new
voice
did
not
sound
like
Nature
's
,
so
she
put
it
aside
and
let
it
drown
into
silence
before
the
clamor
of
fear
for
"
Mister
Jan
's
"
well-being
.
Indeed
,
that
dim
premonitory
whisper
excited
a
moment
's
anger
in
the
girl
that
any
distrust
could
shadow
her
love
for
such
a
one
at
such
a
time
.
She
hated
herself
,
held
the
thought
a
sin
of
her
own
commission
,
and
sped
onward
until
she
stood
upon
the
northern
side
of
the
byre
in
a
shadow
cast
from
it
by
the
sun
.
The
place
was
padlocked
,
and
at
that
sight
Joan
's
spirits
,
though
they
rose
in
one
direction
,
yet
fell
in
another
.
One
fear
vanished
,
a
second
loomed
the
larger
;
for
the
padlock
,
while
it
indicated
that
the
artist
had
left
his
lonely
habitation
for
the
time
,
did
not
explain
his
absence
now
or
dispel
the
possibilities
of
an
accident
or
disaster
.
The
tar-pitched
double
door
of
the
shed
was
fast
and
offered
no
peep-hole
;
but
Joan
went
round
to
the
south
side
,
where
an
aperture
appeared
and
where
a
little
glass
window
had
taken
the
place
of
the
wooden
shutters
.
Sunshine
lighted
the
shed
inside
;
she
could
see
every
detail
of
the
chamber
,
and
she
photographed
it
on
her
mind
with
a
quick
glance
.
A
big
easel
with
the
life-size
picture
of
herself
upon
it
stood
in
the
middle
of
the
shed
,
and
a
smaller
easel
appeared
hard
by
.
The
artist
's
palettes
,
brushes
and
colors
littered
a
bench
,
and
bottles
and
tumblers
were
scattered
among
them
.
Two
pipes
which
she
had
seen
in
his
mouth
lay
together
upon
a
box
on
the
floor
,
and
beside
them
stood
a
tin
of
tobacco
wrapped
in
yellow
paper
.
A
white
umbrella
and
some
sticks
stood
in
one
corner
,
and
another
she
saw
was
filled
by
some
railway
rugs
spread
over
dried
bracken
.
Two
coats
hung
on
nails
in
the
wall
,
and
above
one
was
suspended
a
Panama
hat
which
Barren
often
wore
when
painting
.
Something
moved
suddenly
,
and
,
looking
upon
the
stone
floor
,
she
saw
a
rat-trap
with
a
live
rat
in
it
.
The
beast
was
running
as
far
as
it
could
this
way
and
that
,
poking
its
nose
up
and
trying
the
roof
of
its
prison
.
She
noticed
its
snout
was
raw
from
thrusting
between
the
wire
,
and
she
wished
she
could
get
in
to
kill
it
.
She
did
not
know
that
it
was
a
mother
rat
with
young
ones
outside
squeaking
faintly
in
the
stack
of
mangel-wurzels
;
she
did
not
know
,
as
it
hopped
round
and
round
,
that
its
beady
eyes
were
glittering
with
a
great
agony
,
and
that
the
Mother
of
all
was
powerless
to
break
down
a
mere
wire
or
two
and
save
it
.
Presently
,
worn
and
weary
,
Joan
trudged
home
again
,
with
no
very
happy
mind
.
She
found
food
for
comfort
in
one
reflection
alone
:
the
artist
had
made
no
special
appointment
for
that
day
,
and
it
might
be
that
business
or
an
engagement
at
Newlyn
,
Penzance
or
elsewhere
was
occupying
his
time
.
She
felt
it
must
be
so
,
and
tried
hard
to
convince
herself
that
he
would
surely
be
at
the
usual
spot
upon
the
morrow
.
So
she
walked
home
unhappy
;
and
time
,
which
had
dragged
yesterday
,
to-day
stood
still
.
Before
night
she
had
lived
an
age
;
the
hours
of
darkness
were
endless
,
but
her
father
's
return
furnished
excuse
for
another
morning
of
early
rising
;
and
when
Gray
Michael
and
Tom
had
eaten
,
donned
clean
raiment
and
returned
to
the
sea
,
Joan
,
having
seen
them
to
the
pierhead
,
did
not
go
home
,
but
hastened
straight
away
for
Gorse
Point
,
and
arrived
there
earlier
than
ever
she
had
done
before
.
There
was
something
soothing
to
her
troubled
mind
in
being
upon
the
spot
sacred
to
him
.
Though
he
was
not
present
,
she
seemed
closer
far
to
him
on
Gorse
Point
than
anywhere
else
.
His
foot
had
marked
the
turf
there
;
his
eye
had
mirrored
the
furzes
a
hundred
times
;
she
knew
just
where
his
shadow
had
fallen
as
he
stood
painting
,
and
the
spot
upon
which
he
was
wont
to
sit
by
the
cliff-edge
when
came
the
time
for
rest
.
Beside
this
holy
place
she
now
seated
herself
and
waited
with
hope
higher
in
the
splendor
of
morning
;
for
sorrows
,
fears
and
ills
are
always
blackest
when
the
sun
has
set
,
and
every
man
or
woman
can
better
face
trouble
on
opening
their
eyes
in
a
sunny
dawn
than
after
midnight
has
struck
,
a
sad
day
left
them
weakened
,
and
nothing
wakes
in
the
world
but
Care
and
themselves
.
The
morning
wore
away
,
and
the
old
fears
returned
with
greater
force
to
chill
her
soul
.
The
sun
was
burnishing
the
sea
,
and
she
watched
Mousehole
luggers
putting
out
and
dancing
away
through
the
gold
.
Under
the
cliffs
the
gulls
wheeled
with
sad
cries
and
the
long-necked
cormorants
hastened
backward
and
forward
,
now
flying
fast
and
low
over
the
water
,
now
fishing
here
and
there
in
couples
.
She
saw
them
rear
in
the
water
as
they
dived
,
then
go
down
head
first
,
leaving
a
rippling
circle
which
widened
out
and
vanished
long
before
the
fishers
bobbed
up
again
twenty
yards
further
on
.
Time
after
time
she
watched
them
,
speculating
vaguely
after
each
disappearance
as
to
how
long
the
bird
would
remain
out
of
sight
.
Then
she
turned
her
face
to
the
land
,
weary
of
waiting
,
weary
of
the
bright
sea
and
sky
,
and
the
music
of
the
gulls
,
and
of
life
.
She
sat
down
again
presently
,
and
put
her
hand
over
her
face
and
struggled
with
her
thoughts
.
Manifold
fears
compassed
her
mind
about
,
but
one
,
not
felt
till
then
,
rose
now
,
a
giant
above
the
rest
.
Yesterday
she
had
been
all
alarm
for
"
Mister
Jan
"
;
to-day
there
came
terror
for
herself
.
Something
said
"
He
has
gone
,
he
has
left
you
.
"
Her
brain
,
without
any
warning
,
framed
the
words
and
spoke
them
to
her
.
It
was
as
though
a
stranger
had
brought
the
news
,
and
she
rose
up
white
and
stricken
at
this
fatal
explanation
of
the
artist
's
continued
absence
.
She
put
the
thought
from
her
as
she
had
put
another
,
but
it
returned
with
pertinacity
,
and
each
time
larger
than
before
,
until
the
fear
filled
all
her
mind
and
made
her
wild
and
desperate
,
under
the
conviction
of
a
sudden
,
awful
life-quake
launched
against
her
existence
to
shatter
all
her
new
joy
and
dash
the
brimming
cup
of
love
from
her
lips
.
Hours
passed
,
and
she
grew
somewhat
faint
and
hollow
every
way
—
in
head
and
heart
and
stomach
.
Her
eyes
ached
,
her
brains
were
worn
out
with
thinking
;
she
felt
old
,
and
her
body
was
heavy
and
energy
dead
.
The
world
changed
,
too
.
The
gorse
looked
strange
as
the
sun
went
round
,
the
lark
sang
no
more
,
the
wind
blew
coldly
,
and
the
sea
's
gold
was
darkened
by
a
rack
of
flying
clouds
whose
shadows
fell
purple
and
gray
upon
the
waters
.
He
had
gone
;
he
had
left
her
;
perhaps
she
would
never
see
him
or
hear
of
him
again
.
Then
the
place
grew
hateful
to
her
and
terrible
as
a
grave
.
She
dragged
herself
away
,
dizzy
,
weary
,
wretched
;
and
not
until
half
way
home
again
did
she
find
power
to
steady
her
mind
and
control
thought
.
Then
the
old
alarm
returned
—
that
first
fear
which
had
pictured
him
dead
,
perhaps
even
now
rolling
over
and
over
under
the
precipices
,
or
hid
forever
in
the
cranny
of
some
dark
cavern
at
the
root
of
the
cliffs
,
where
high
tides
spouted
and
thundered
and
battered
the
flesh
off
his
bones
against
granite
.
She
suffered
terribly
in
mind
upon
that
homeward
journey
.
Her
own
light
and
darkness
mattered
nothing
now
,
and
her
personal
and
selfish
fears
had
vanished
before
she
reached
Newlyn
.
She
was
thinking
how
she
should
raise
an
alarm
,
how
she
should
tell
his
friends
,
who
possibly
imagined
"
Mister
Jan
"
safe
and
comfortable
in
his
cow-byre
.
But
who
were
his
friends
and
how
should
she
approach
them
without
such
a
step
becoming
known
and
getting
talked
about
?
Her
misery
was
stamped
on
her
face
when
she
at
last
returned
to
the
white
cottage
at
three
o'clock
in
the
afternoon
of
that
day
,
and
Mrs.
Tregenza
saw
it
there
.
"
God
save
us
!
wheer
you
bin
to
,
an
'
what
you
bin
'
bout
?
You
'm
so
pasty
an
'
round-eyed
as
if
you
'd
bin
piskey-led
somewheers
.
An
'
me
worn
to
death
wi
'
work
.
An
'
wheer
'm
the
nattlins
an
'
the
basket
?
"
Joan
had
quite
forgotten
her
commission
and
left
the
basket
on
Gorse
Point
.
"
I
'll
gaw
back
bimebye
,
"
she
said
.
"
I
bin
walkin
'
'
long
the
cliffs
in
the
sun
an
'
forgot
the
time
.
Gimme
somethin
'
t'ate
,
mother
;
I
be
hungry
an
'
fainty
like
wi
'
gwaine
tu
far
.
I
could
hardly
fetch
home
.
"
"
You
'm
a
queer
twoad
,
"
said
Thomasin
,
"
an
'
I
doa
n't
knaw
what
's
come
over
'
e
of
late
days
.
'
Pears
to
me
you
'm
hidin
'
summat
;
an
'
if
I
thot
that
,
I
'd
mighty
quick
get
faither
to
find
out
what
'
twas
,
I
can
tell
'
e
.
"
Then
she
went
off
,
and
brought
some
cold
potatoes
and
dripping
,
with
bread
and
salt
,
and
a
cup
of
milk
.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
LESSONS
LEARNED
The
lesson
which
he
had
set
for
Joan
Tregenza
's
learning
taught
John
Barron
something
also
.
Eight-and-forty
hours
he
stayed
in
Newlyn
,
and
was
astounded
to
find
during
that
period
what
grip
this
girl
had
got
upon
his
mind
,
how
she
had
dragged
him
out
of
himself
.
His
first
thought
was
to
escape
all
physical
excitement
and
emotion
by
abandoning
his
picture
almost
upon
the
moment
of
its
completion
and
abandoning
his
model
too
;
but
various
considerations
cried
out
against
such
a
course
.
To
go
was
to
escape
no
difficulty
,
but
to
fly
from
the
spoils
of
victory
.
The
fruit
only
wanted
plucking
,
and
,
through
pleasure
,
he
believed
that
he
would
proceed
to
speedy
,
easy
and
triumphant
completion
of
his
picture
.
No
lasting
compunction
colored
the
tenor
of
his
thoughts
.
Once
,
indeed
,
upon
the
day
when
he
returned
to
Gorse
Point
and
saw
Joan
again
,
some
shadow
of
regret
for
her
swept
through
his
brain
;
but
that
and
the
issue
of
it
will
be
detailed
in
their
place
.
Time
went
heavily
for
him
away
from
Joan
.
He
roamed
listlessly
here
and
there
and
watched
the
weather-glass
uneasily
;
for
this
abstention
from
work
was
a
deliberate
challenge
to
Providence
to
change
sunshine
for
rain
and
high
temperature
for
low
.
Upon
the
third
day
therefore
he
returned
at
early
morning
to
his
picture
in
the
shed
.
The
greater
part
was
finished
,
and
the
masses
of
gorse
stood
out
strong
,
solid
and
complete
with
the
slender
brown
figure
before
them
.
The
face
of
it
was
very
sweet
,
but
to
Barron
it
seemed
as
the
face
of
a
ghost
,
with
no
hot
blood
in
its
veins
,
no
live
interests
in
its
eyes
.
"
'
Tis
the
countenance
of
a
nun
,
"
he
said
sneeringly
to
himself
.
"
No
fire
,
no
love
,
no
story
—
a
sweet
virgin
page
of
life
,
innocent
of
history
or
of
interest
as
a
new-blown
lily
.
"
The
problem
was
difficult
,
and
he
had
now
quite
convinced
himself
that
solution
depended
on
one
course
alone
.
"
And
why
not
?
"
he
asked
himself
.
"
Why
,
when
pleasures
are
offered
,
shall
I
refuse
them
?
God
knows
Nature
is
chary
enough
with
her
delights
.
She
has
sowed
death
in
me
,
here
in
my
lungs
.
I
shall
bleed
away
my
life
some
day
or
die
strangled
,
unless
I
anticipate
the
climax
and
choose
another
exit
.
Why
not
take
what
she
throws
to
me
in
the
meantime
?
"
He
walked
down
to
the
Point
,
set
up
his
easel
and
waited
,
feeling
that
Joan
had
certainly
made
two
pilgrimages
since
his
last
visit
and
little
doubting
that
she
would
come
a
third
time
.
Presently
indeed
she
did
,
scarcely
daring
to
raise
her
eyes
,
but
flushing
with
great
waves
of
joy
when
she
saw
him
,
and
crying
"
Mister
Jan
!
"
in
a
triumphant
ripple
of
music
from
a
full
heart
.
Then
the
artist
rose
very
boldly
and
put
his
arms
round
her
and
looked
into
her
face
,
while
she
nestled
close
to
him
and
shut
her
eyes
with
a
sigh
of
sheer
content
and
thankfulness
.
She
had
learned
her
lesson
thoroughly
enough
;
she
felt
she
could
not
live
without
him
now
,
and
when
he
kissed
her
she
did
not
start
from
the
caress
,
but
opened
her
eyes
and
looked
into
his
face
with
great
yearning
love
.
"
Oh
,
thank
the
good
God
you
'm
comed
back
agin
to
me
!
To
think
it
be
awnly
two
lil
days
!
An
'
the
time
have
seemed
a
hunderd
years
.
I
thot
'
e
was
lost
or
dead
or
killed
,
an
'
I
seed
'
e
,
when
I
slept
,
a
tossin
'
over
down
in
the
zawns
[
Footnote
:
Zawns
—
Sea
caves
.
]
where
the
sea
roars
an
'
makes
the
world
shake
.
Oh
,
Mister
Jan
,
an
'
I
woke
screamin
'
,
an
'
mother
comed
up
,
an
'
I
near
spoke
your
name
,
but
not
quite
.
"
"
You
need
not
have
feared
for
me
,
Joan
,
though
I
have
been
very
miserable
too
,
my
little
sweetheart
;
I
have
indeed
.
I
was
overworked
and
worried
and
wretched
,
so
I
stopped
in
Newlyn
,
but
being
away
from
you
had
only
taught
me
I
cannot
exist
away
from
you
.
The
time
was
long
and
dreary
,
and
it
would
have
been
still
worse
had
I
known
that
you
were
unhappy
.
"
"
'
Tweer
wisht
days
for
me
,
Mister
Jan.
I
be
such
a
poor
lass
in
brains
,
an
'
I
could
awnly
think
of
trouble
'
cause
I
loved
'
e
so
true
.
'
Tedn
'
like
the
same
plaace
when
you
'm
away
.
Then
I
thot
you
'd
gone
right
back
to
Lunnon
,
an
'
I
judged
my
heart
'
ud
break
for
'
e
,
I
did
.
"
"
Poor
little
blue-eyed
woman
!
Could
you
really
think
I
was
such
a
brute
?
"
"
'
Twas
awnly
wan
thot
among
many
.
I
never
thot
so
much
afore
in
my
life
.
An
'
I
looked
'
bout
tu
;
an
'
I
went
up
to
the
lil
byre
,
where
your
things
was
,
an
'
peeped
in
en
.
But
I
seed
naught
of
'
e
,
awnly
a
gashly
auld
rat
in
a
trap
.
But
'
e
wo
n't
gaw
aways
like
that
ag'in
,
will
'
e
?
"
"
No
,
no.
It
was
too
bad
.
"
"
Coorse
I
knawed
that
if
all
was
well
with
'
e
,
you
'd
a
done
the
right
thing
,
but
it
'
peared
as
if
the
right
thing
couldn
'
be
to
leave
me
,
Mister
Jan
—
not
now
,
now
you
be
my
world
like
;
'
cause
theer
edn
'
nothin
'
or
nobody
else
in
the
world
but
you
for
me
.
'
Tis
wicked
,
but
t'others
be
all
faded
away
;
an
'
faither
's
nort
,
an
'
Joe
's
nort
,
alongside
o
'
you
.
"
He
did
not
answer
,
and
began
to
paint
.
Joan
's
face
was
far
short
of
looking
its
best
;
there
were
dark
shadows
under
her
eyes
and
less
color
than
usual
brightened
her
cheeks
.
He
tried
to
work
,
but
circumstances
and
his
own
feelings
were
alike
against
him
.
He
was
restless
and
lacked
patience
,
nor
could
his
eye
see
color
aright
.
In
half
an
hour
he
had
spoiled
not
a
little
of
what
was
already
done
.
Then
he
took
a
palette-knife
,
made
a
clean
sweep
of
much
previous
labor
and
began
again
.
But
the
music
of
her
happy
voice
was
in
his
blood
.
The
child
had
come
out
of
the
valley
of
sorrow
and
she
was
boisterously
happy
and
her
laughter
made
him
wild
.
Mists
gathered
in
his
eyes
and
his
breath
caught
now
and
again
.
Passion
fairly
gripped
him
by
the
throat
till
even
the
sound
of
his
own
voice
was
strange
to
him
and
he
felt
his
knees
shake
.
He
put
down
his
brushes
,
turned
from
the
picture
,
and
went
to
the
cliff-edge
,
there
flinging
himself
down
upon
the
grass
.
"
I
cannot
paint
to-day
,
Joan
;
I
'm
too
over-joyed
at
getting
you
back
to
me
.
My
hand
is
not
steady
,
and
my
Joan
of
paint
and
canvas
seems
worse
and
feebler
than
ever
beside
your
flesh
and
blood
.
You
do
n't
know
—
you
cannot
guess
how
I
have
missed
you
.
"
"
Iss
fay
,
but
I
can
,
Mister
Jan
,
if
you
felt
same
as
what
I
done
.
'
Tweer
cruel
,
cruel
.
But
then
you
've
got
a
many
things
an
'
folks
to
fill
up
your
time
along
with
;
I
abbun
got
nothin
'
now
but
you
.
"
"
I
expect
Joe
often
thinks
about
you
.
"
"
I
dunnaw
.
'
Tis
awful
wicked
,
but
Joe
he
gone
clean
out
my
mind
now
.
I
thot
I
loved
en
,
but
I
was
a
cheel
then
an
'
I
did
n't
'
sackly
knaw
what
love
was
;
now
I
do
.
'
Twadden
what
I
felt
for
Joe
Noy
'
tall
;
'
tis
what
I
feels
for
you
,
Mister
Jan.
"
"
Ah
,
I
like
to
hear
you
say
that
.
Nature
has
brought
you
to
me
,
Joan
,
my
little
jewel
;
and
she
has
brought
Jan
to
you
.
You
could
not
understand
that
last
time
I
told
you
;
now
you
can
and
you
do
.
We
belong
to
each
other
—
you
and
I
—
and
to
nobody
else
.
"
"
I
'd
be
well
content
to
belong
to
'
e
,
Mister
Jan.
You
'm
my
good
fairy
,
I
reckon
.
If
I
could
work
for
'
e
allus
an
'
see
'
e
an
'
'
ear
'
e
every
day
,
I
shouldn
'
want
nothin
'
better'n
that
.
"
Then
it
was
that
the
shade
of
a
compunction
and
the
shadow
of
a
regret
touched
John
Barron
;
and
it
cooled
his
hot
blood
for
a
brief
moment
,
and
he
swore
to
himself
he
would
try
to
paint
her
again
as
she
was
.
He
would
fight
Nature
for
once
and
try
if
pure
intellect
was
strong
enough
to
get
the
face
he
wanted
on
to
the
canvas
without
the
gratification
of
his
flesh
and
blood
.
In
which
determination
glimmered
something
almost
approaching
to
self-sacrifice
in
such
a
man
.
He
did
not
answer
Joan
's
last
remark
,
but
rose
and
went
to
his
picture
,
and
she
,
thinking
herself
snubbed
by
his
silence
after
her
avowal
,
grew
hot
and
uncomfortable
.
"
The
weather
is
going
to
change
,
sweetheart
,
"
he
said
,
allowing
himself
the
luxury
of
affectionate
words
in
the
moment
of
his
half-hearted
struggle
;
"
the
weather-glass
creeps
back
slowly
.
We
must
not
waste
time
.
Come
,
Joan
;
we
are
the
children
of
Nature
,
but
the
slaves
of
Art
.
Let
me
try
again
.
"
But
she
,
who
had
spoken
in
all
innocence
and
with
a
child
's
love
,
was
pained
that
he
should
have
taken
no
note
of
her
speech
.
She
was
almost
angry
that
he
had
power
to
conjure
such
words
to
her
lips
;
and
yet
the
anger
vanished
from
her
mind
quickly
enough
and
her
thoughts
were
all
happy
as
she
resumed
her
pose
for
him
.
The
past
few
days
had
vastly
deepened
and
widened
her
mental
horizon
;
and
now
Barron
for
the
first
time
saw
something
of
what
he
wanted
in
her
eyes
as
she
gazed
away
over
the
sea
and
did
not
look
at
him
as
usual
.
There
,
sure
enough
,
was
the
soul
that
he
knew
slept
somewhere
,
but
had
never
seen
until
then
.
And
the
sight
of
it
came
as
a
shock
and
swept
away
his
sophistries
and
ugly-woven
ideas
.
Inclination
had
told
him
that
Nature
,
through
one
channel
only
,
would
bring
the
mystery
of
hidden
thought
to
Joan
's
blue
eyes
,
and
he
had
felt
well
satisfied
to
believe
it
was
so
;
but
now
even
the
plea
of
Art
could
not
excuse
the
thing
which
had
grown
within
him
of
late
,
for
experiences
other
than
those
he
dreamed
of
had
glorified
the
frank
blue
eyes
and
brought
mind
into
them
.
Now
it
only
remained
for
him
to
paint
them
if
he
could
.
Not
wholly
untroubled
,
but
never
much
more
beautiful
than
that
morning
,
Joan
gazed
out
upon
the
remote
sea
.
Then
the
thoughtful
mood
passed
,
and
she
laughed
and
babbled
again
,
and
the
new-born
beauty
departed
from
her
eyes
for
a
season
,
and
the
warm
blood
raced
through
her
veins
,
and
she
was
all
happiness
.
Meanwhile
nothing
came
of
his
painting
and
he
was
not
sorry
when
she
ended
the
ordeal
.
"
The
bwoats
be
comin
'
back
home
along
,
Mister
Jan.
I
doa
n't
mark
faither
's
yet
,
but
when
'
tis
wance
in
sight
he
'll
be
to
Newlyn
sooner'n
me
.
So
I
'd
best
be
gwaine
,
though
it
edn
'
more
than
noon
,
I
s'pose
.
An
'
my
heart
's
a
tidy
sight
lighter
now
than
'
tweer
issterday
indeed
.
"
"
I
'm
almost
afraid
to
let
you
go
,
Joan
.
"
She
looked
at
him
curiously
,
waiting
for
his
bidding
,
but
he
seemed
moody
,
and
said
no
more
.
"
When
be
you
comin
'
next
?
"
"
To-morrow
and
to-morrow
and
to-morrow
,
my
pearl
above
price
.
It
is
so
hard
,
so
very
hard
,
"
he
answered
.
"
Fine
or
wet
I
shall
be
here
to-morrow
,
for
I
am
not
going
back
to
Newlyn
again
till
my
work
is
done
.
Three
more
sittings
,
Joan
,
if
you
have
enough
patience
—
"
"
In
coorse
,
Mister
Jan.
"
She
did
not
explain
to
him
what
difficulties
daily
grew
in
the
way
of
her
coming
,
how
rumor
was
alive
,
and
how
her
stepmother
had
threatened
more
than
once
to
tell
Gray
Michael
that
his
wayward
daughter
was
growing
a
gadabout
.
Joan
had
explained
away
her
roaming
with
a
variety
of
more
or
less
ingenious
lies
,
and
she
always
found
her
brain
startlingly
fertile
where
the
artist
and
his
picture
were
concerned
.
She
felt
little
doubt
that
three
more
visits
to
Gorse
Point
might
be
achieved
—
ay
,
and
thirty
more
if
necessary
.
But
afterward
?
What
would
follow
the
painting
of
the
picture
?
She
asked
herself
the
question
as
he
kissed
her
,
with
a
kiss
that
was
almost
rough
,
while
he
bid
her
go
quickly
;
and
the
former
reply
to
every
doubt
made
answer
.
Her
fears
fled
as
usual
before
the
invigorating
spectacle
of
this
sterling
,
truth-loving
man
.
With
him
all
the
future
remained
and
with
him
only
.
Hers
was
the
pleasant
,
passive
task
of
obedience
to
one
utterly
trusted
and
passionately
loved
.
Her
fate
lay
hidden
in
his
heart
,
as
the
fate
of
the
clay
lies
hid
in
the
brain
of
the
potter
.
And
so
home
she
went
,
walking
in
a
sunshine
of
her
own
thoughts
.
The
clouds
were
gone
;
they
massed
gloomily
on
the
horizon
of
the
past
;
but
looking
forward
,
she
saw
no
more
of
them
.
All
time
to
come
was
at
the
disposition
of
the
wisest
man
she
had
ever
met
.
She
did
not
know
or
guess
at
the
battle
which
this
same
wise
man
had
fought
and
lost
under
her
eyes
;
she
gathered
nothing
of
the
truth
from
his
gloom
,
his
silence
,
his
changed
voice
,
his
sudden
farewell
.
She
did
not
know
passion
when
she
saw
it
;
and
the
ugly
visible
signs
thereof
told
no
tale
to
her
.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
STORM
That
night
the
change
came
and
the
wind
veered
first
to
the
south
,
then
to
the
southwest
.
By
morning
,
gray
clouds
hid
the
sky
and
hourly
grew
darker
and
lower
.
As
yet
no
rain
fell
,
but
the
world
had
altered
,
and
every
light-value
,
from
an
artist
's
standpoint
,
was
modified
.
John
Barren
sat
by
his
stove
in
the
byre
,
made
himself
a
cup
of
black
coffee
,
and
presently
,
wrapped
in
a
big
mackintosh
,
walked
out
to
Gorse
Point
.
His
picture
he
left
,
of
course
,
at
the
shed
,
for
painting
was
out
of
the
question
.
Nature
,
who
had
been
smiling
so
pleasantly
in
sunshine
these
many
days
,
now
awoke
in
a
grim
gray
mood
.
The
sea
ran
high
,
its
white
foam-caps
and
ridges
fretting
the
rolling
volume
of
it
;
the
luggers
fought
their
way
out
with
buried
noses
and
laboring
hulls
;
rain
still
held
off
,
but
it
was
coming
quickly
,
and
the
furze
and
the
young
grasses
panted
for
it
on
Gorse
Point
.
Below
the
cliffs
a
wild
spirit
inhabited
the
sea
fowl
,
and
they
screamed
and
wheeled
in
many
an
aerial
circle
,
now
sliding
with
motionless
outstretched
wing
upon
