wellcontent
to
believe
that
he
would
never
again
visit
Cornwall
,
and
Joan
called
at
the
Penzance
post-office
on
the
morning
which
followed
his
departure
.
Her
geographical
knowledge
was
scanty
.
Truro
and
Plymouth
,
in
her
belief
,
lay
somewhere
upon
the
edge
of
the
world
;
and
she
scarcely
imagined
that
London
could
be
much
more
remote
.
But
no
letter
awaited
her
,
and
life
grew
to
be
terribly
empty
.
For
a
week
she
struggled
with
herself
to
keep
from
the
post-office
,
and
then
,
nothing
doubting
that
her
patience
would
now
be
well
rewarded
,
Joan
marched
off
with
confidence
for
the
treasure
.
But
only
a
greater
disappointment
than
the
last
resulted
;
and
she
went
home
very
sorrowful
,
building
up
explanations
of
the
silence
,
finding
excuses
for
"
Mister
Jan.
"
The
prefix
to
his
name
,
which
had
dropped
during
their
latter
intimacy
,
returned
to
her
mind
now
the
man
was
gone
:
as
"
Mister
Jan
"
it
was
that
she
thought
about
him
and
prayed
for
him
.
The
days
passed
quickly
,
and
when
a
fortnight
stood
between
herself
and
the
last
glimpse
of
her
lover
,
Joan
began
to
grow
very
anxious
.
She
wept
through
long
nights
now
,
and
her
father
,
finding
the
girl
changed
,
guessed
she
had
a
secret
and
told
his
wife
to
find
it
out
.
But
it
was
some
time
before
Thomasin
made
any
discovery
,
for
Joan
lied
stoutly
by
day
and
prayed
to
God
to
pardon
by
night
.
She
strove
hard
to
follow
the
teaching
of
the
artist
,
to
find
joy
in
flowers
and
leaves
,
in
the
spring
music
of
birds
,
in
the
color
of
the
sea
.
But
now
she
dimly
guessed
that
it
was
love
of
him
which
went
so
far
to
make
all
things
beautiful
,
that
it
was
the
magic
and
wisdom
of
his
words
which
had
gilded
the
world
with
gold
and
thrown
new
light
upon
the
old
familiar
objects
of
life
.
Nature
's
organ
was
dumb
now
that
the
hands
which
played
upon
it
so
skillfully
had
passed
far
away
.
But
she
was
loyal
to
her
teacher
;
she
remembered
many
things
which
he
had
said
and
tried
hard
to
feel
as
he
felt
,
to
put
her
hand
in
beautiful
Mother
Nature
's
and
walk
with
her
and
be
at
peace
.
Mister
Jan
would
soon
return
;
the
fortnight
was
already
past
;
each
day
as
she
rose
she
felt
he
might
come
to
claim
her
before
the
evening
.
And
,
meanwhile
,
other
concerns
occupied
her
thoughts
.
The
voice
which
spoke
to
her
after
she
bid
John
Barren
"
good-by
,
"
had
since
then
similarly
sounded
on
the
ear
of
her
heart
.
Alike
at
high
noon
and
in
the
silence
of
the
night
watches
it
addressed
her
;
and
the
mystery
of
it
,
taken
with
her
other
sorrows
,
began
to
affect
her
physically
.
For
the
first
time
in
her
life
the
girl
felt
ill
in
body
.
Her
appetite
failed
,
dawn
found
her
sick
and
weary
;
her
glass
told
her
of
a
white
,
unhappy
face
,
of
eyes
that
were
lighted
from
within
and
shone
with
strange
thoughts
.
She
was
always
listening
now
—
listening
for
the
new
voice
,
that
she
might
hear
the
word
it
uttered
.
Her
physical
illness
she
hid
with
some
cunning
and
put
a
bright
face
upon
life
as
far
as
she
could
do
so
before
those
of
her
home
;
but
the
task
grew
daily
more
difficult
.
Then
,
with
a
period
of
greatly
increased
discomfort
,
Joan
grew
alarmed
and
turned
to
the
kind
God
of
"
Mister
Jan
,
"
and
made
great
,
tearful
praying
for
a
return
of
strength
.
Her
petition
was
apparently
granted
,
for
the
girl
enjoyed
some
improvement
of
health
and
spirit
.
Whereupon
she
became
fired
with
a
notable
thought
,
and
determined
to
seek
her
patron
saint
where
still
she
suspected
his
power
held
sway
:
at
the
little
brook
which
tinkles
along
beside
the
ruins
of
St.
Madron
's
chapel
in
a
fair
coomb
below
the
Cornish
moorlands
.
The
precious
water
,
as
Joan
remembered
,
had
brought
strength
and
health
to
her
when
a
baby
;
and
now
the
girl
longed
to
try
its
virtues
again
,
and
a
great
conviction
grew
upon
her
that
the
ancient
saint
never
forgot
his
own
little
ones
.
Opportunity
presently
offered
,
and
through
the
first
misty
gray
of
a
morning
in
early
April
,
she
set
out
upon
her
long
tramp
from
Newlyn
through
Madron
to
the
ruined
baptistery
.
St.
Madron
,
or
Padern
,
lived
in
the
sixth
century
,
somewhat
earlier
than
Augustine
.
A
Breton
by
birth
,
he
labored
chiefly
in
Wales
,
established
a
monastery
on
Brito-Celtic
lines
in
Cardiganshire
,
and
became
its
bishop
when
a
see
was
established
in
that
district
.
He
traveled
far
,
visited
Mount
's
Bay
and
established
the
church
of
Madron
,
still
sacred
to
his
name
,
while
doubtless
the
brook
and
chapel
hard
by
were
associated
with
him
from
the
same
period
.
In
Scawen
's
time
folk
were
wont
to
take
their
hurts
thither
on
Corpus
Christi
evening
,
drink
of
the
water
,
deposit
an
offering
,
and
repose
upon
the
chapel
floor
till
dawn
.
Then
,
drinking
again
,
they
departed
whole
,
if
faith
sufficiently
mighty
had
supported
them
.
Norden
remarks
of
the
water
that
"
its
fame
was
great
for
the
supposed
vertue
of
healinge
,
which
St.
Maderne
had
thereunto
infused
;
and
maine
votaries
made
anuale
pilgrimages
unto
it
...
.
"
In
connection
with
the
custom
of
immersion
here
indicated
,
we
find
there
obtained
the
equally
venerable
practice
of
hanging
votive
rags
upon
the
thorn
bushes
round
about
the
chapel
.
This
conceit
is
ancient
as
Japan
,
and
one
not
only
in
usage
to
this
day
among
the
Shintoists
of
that
land
,
but
likewise
common
throughout
Northern
Asia
and
,
nearer
home
,
in
the
Orkneys
,
in
Scotland
,
in
Ireland
.
Older
far
than
Christianity
are
these
customs
;
the
megalithic
monuments
of
the
pagan
witness
similar
practices
in
remote
corners
of
the
earth
;
rag-trees
,
burdened
with
the
tattered
offerings
of
the
devout
,
yet
stud
the
desert
of
Suez
,
and
those
who
seek
shall
surely
find
some
holy
well
or
grave
hard
at
hand
in
every
case
.
To
mark
and
examine
the
junction
of
these
venerable
fancies
with
Christian
superstition
is
no
part
of
our
present
purpose
,
but
that
ideas
,
pagan
in
their
birth
,
have
lent
themselves
with
sufficient
readiness
to
successive
creeds
and
been
knit
into
the
dogmas
of
each
in
turn
,
is
certain
enough
.
Thus
,
through
Cornwall
,
the
imaginings
of
wizard
and
wonder-worker
in
hoary
time
come
,
centuries
later
,
to
be
the
glory
and
special
power
of
a
saint
.
Such
fantastic
lore
was
definitely
interdicted
in
King
Edgar
's
reign
,
when
"
stone
worshipings
,
divinations
,
well
worshipings
and
necromances
"
were
proclaimed
things
heathen
,
and
unhallowed
;
but
with
the
advent
of
the
Saint-Bishops
from
Wales
,
from
Ireland
,
from
Brittany
,
primitive
superstitions
were
patched
upon
the
new
creed
,
and
,
to
suit
private
purposes
,
the
old
giants
of
the
Christian
faith
sanctified
holy
well
and
holy
stone
,
posing
by
right
divine
as
sure
dispensers
of
the
hidden
virtue
in
stream
and
granite
.
But
the
roots
of
these
fables
burrow
back
to
paganism
.
Hundreds
of
weakly
infants
were
passed
through
Mên-an-tol
—
the
stone
with
a
hole
or
the
"
crick-stone
"
—
in
the
names
of
saints
;
and
hundreds
had
already
been
handed
through
it
centuries
before
under
like
appeal
to
pagan
deities
.
Of
Madron
baptistery
,
now
a
picturesque
ruin
,
it
seems
clear
that
until
the
Reformation
regular
worship
and
the
service
of
baptism
were
therein
celebrated
.
The
place
has
mercifully
escaped
all
restoration
or
renovation
and
stands
at
this
moment
open
to
the
sky
in
the
slow
hand
of
Time
.
A
brook
runs
babbling
outside
,
but
the
holy
well
or
colymbethra
is
now
dry
,
though
it
might
easily
be
filled
again
.
This
interesting
portion
of
the
chapel
remains
intact
,
and
the
entrance
to
it
lies
upon
the
level
of
the
floor
according
to
ancient
custom
,
being
so
ordered
that
the
adult
to
undergo
baptism
might
step
down
into
the
water
,
and
that
not
without
dignity
.
Hither
came
Joan
.
Her
patchwork
of
faith
and
Nature-worship
was
a
live
thing
to
her
now
,
and
she
found
no
difficulty
in
reconciling
the
sweet
saint-stories
heard
in
childhood
from
her
dead
mother
's
lips
,
with
the
beautiful
and
fair
exposition
of
truth
which
"
Mister
Jan
"
found
written
large
upon
the
world
by
Nature
in
spring-time
.
It
was
half-past
four
o'clock
when
she
trudged
through
Madron
to
see
the
gray
church
and
the
little
gray
houses
all
sleeping
under
the
gray
sky
.
She
plodded
on
up
the
hill
past
the
gaunt
workhouse
which
stands
at
the
top
of
it
;
and
what
had
seemed
soft
,
sweet
repose
among
the
cottage
homes
,
felt
like
cold
death
beneath
these
ashy
walls
.
To
Joan
,
the
workhouse
was
a
word
of
shame
unutterable
.
Those
among
whom
she
lived
would
hurl
the
word
against
enemies
as
a
prophecy
of
the
utmost
degradation
.
She
shivered
as
she
passed
,
and
was
sad
,
knowing
that
a
whole
world
of
poverty
,
failure
,
sorrow
,
regret
,
was
hidden
away
in
that
cold
,
still
pile
.
But
the
hand
of
sleep
lay
softly
there
;
only
a
sick
soul
or
two
stirred
,
the
paupers
were
the
equal
of
princes
till
a
hoarse
bell
brought
them
back
out
of
blessed
unconsciousness
.
Bars
of
light
streaked
the
east
,
and
Joan
,
only
stopping
at
the
hill
crest
to
see
dawn
open
silver
eyes
on
the
sea
,
hastened
inland
through
silent
,
dewy
fields
.
Presently
a
fence
and
wall
cut
civilization
from
the
wild
land
of
the
coomb
,
and
the
girl
proceeded
where
grass-grown
cart-ruts
wound
among
furze
and
heather
and
the
silver
coils
of
new-born
bracken
just
beginning
to
peep
up
above
the
dead
fern
of
last
year
.
This
hollow
ran
between
undulations
of
fallow
and
meadow
;
no
harrow
clinked
as
yet
;
only
the
cows
stood
here
and
there
above
the
dry
patches
on
the
dewy
fields
where
their
bodies
had
lain
in
sleep
.
She
saw
their
soft
eyes
and
smelled
the
savor
of
them
.
Presently
the
cart-ruts
disappeared
in
fine
grass
all
bediamonded
,
knobbed
with
heather
,
sprouting
rusty-red
,
and
sprinkled
with
tussocks
of
coarser
grass
,
whereon
green
blades
sprang
up
above
the
dead
ones
,
where
they
struggled
,
matted
and
bleached
and
sere
.
Rabbits
flashed
here
and
there
,
the
white
under-side
of
their
little
scuts
twinkling
through
the
gorse
;
and
then
the
birds
woke
up
;
a
thrush
sang
low
,
sleepy
notes
from
the
heart
of
a
whitethorn
;
yellowhammers
piped
their
mournful
calls
from
the
furze
.
On
Joan
's
left
hand
there
now
rose
a
clump
of
wind-worn
beech-trees
,
their
brown
spikes
breaking
to
green
,
even
where
dead
red
leaves
still
clung
to
the
parent
branches
.
Beneath
them
ran
a
hedge
of
earth
above
a
deep
pool
or
two
,
very
clear
and
fringed
with
young
rushes
,
upright
and
triumphant
above
the
old
dead
ones
.
Everywhere
Joan
saw
Life
trampling
and
leaping
,
growing
and
laughing
over
the
ruins
of
things
that
had
lived
and
died
.
It
saddened
her
a
little
.
Did
Nature
forget
so
soon
?
Then
she
told
herself
that
kind
Nature
had
loved
them
and
gloried
in
them
too
;
and
now
she
would
presently
bury
all
her
dead
children
in
beautiful
graves
of
new
green
.
The
mosses
and
marsh
were
lovely
and
the
clear
pools
full
of
living
creatures
.
But
these
things
were
not
saint-blessed
and
eternal
.
No
spring
fed
these
silent
wells
,
no
holy
man
of
old
had
ever
smiled
upon
them
.
A
stepping-stone
by
a
wall
lay
before
her
now
;
this
she
crossed
,
heard
the
stream
murmuring
peace
,
and
hastened
,
and
presently
stood
beside
it
.
Here
were
holy
ground
and
water
;
here
were
peace
and
a
place
to
pray
in
.
Blue
forget-me-nots
looked
wondering
up
,
seeing
eyes
as
blue
as
their
own
,
and
she
smiled
at
them
and
drank
of
the
ripples
that
ran
at
their
roots
.
Gray
through
the
growing
haze
of
green
,
a
ruined
wall
showed
close
to
the
girl
.
The
blackthorns
'
blooms
were
faded
around
her
,
the
hawthorn
was
not
yet
powdered
with
white
.
She
cast
one
look
to
right
and
left
before
entering
the
chapel
.
A
distant
view
of
the
moorland
rose
to
the
sky
,
and
the
ragged
edge
of
the
hills
was
marked
by
a
gaunt
engine-stack
noting
past
enterprise
,
triumphs
long
gone
by
,
ruined
hopes
but
recently
dead
.
Snug
fox-covers
of
rhododendron
swept
up
toward
the
head
of
the
coomb
;
and
below
,
distant
half
a
mile
or
more
,
cottages
already
showed
a
glimmer
of
gold
on
their
thatches
where
the
increasing
splendor
of
day
brightened
them
,
and
morning
mists
were
raising
jeweled
arms
.
Then
Joan
passed
into
the
ruin
through
that
narrow
opening
which
marks
the
door
of
it
.
The
granite
walls
now
stand
about
the
height
of
a
man
's
shoulder
and
the
chamber
itself
is
small
.
Stone
seats
still
run
round
two
sides
of
it
;
ivy
and
stone-worts
and
grasses
have
picked
the
mortar
from
the
walls
and
clothed
them
,
even
as
emerald
moss
and
gray
lichens
and
black
and
gold
glorify
each
piece
of
granite
;
a
may-bush
,
tangled
about
a
great
shiny
ivy-tod
,
surmounts
the
western
walls
above
the
dried
well
;
furzes
and
heather
and
tall
grasses
soften
the
jagged
outlines
of
the
ruin
,
and
above
a
stone
altar
,
at
the
east
end
of
it
,
rises
another
white-thorn
.
At
this
season
of
the
year
the
subsequent
floral
glories
of
the
little
chapel
were
only
indicated
:
young
briers
already
thrust
their
soft
points
over
the
stone
of
the
altar
and
the
first
leaves
of
foxgloves
were
unfolding
,
with
dandelions
and
docks
,
biting-stone-crop
and
ferns
,
ragged-robins
and
wild
geraniums
.
These
infant
things
softened
no
outline
yet
.
The
flat
paving
of
the
floor
,
where
it
yet
remained
,
was
bedded
in
grass
;
a
little
square
incision
upon
the
stone
of
the
altar
glimmered
full
of
water
and
reflected
the
light
from
fleecy
clouds
which
now
climbed
into
heaven
,
bearing
sunrise
fires
upward
over
a
pale
blue
sky
.
Here
,
under
the
circumambient
,
sparkling
clearness
,
coolness
and
silence
,
Joan
stood
with
strange
medley
of
thoughts
upon
her
soul
.
The
saints
and
the
fairies
mingled
there
with
visions
of
Nature
,
always
smiling
,
with
a
vague
shadow
of
one
great
God
above
the
blue
,
but
dim
and
very
far
away
;
and
a
nearer
picture
which
quickened
her
heart-beat
:
the
picture
of
"
Mister
Jan.
"
Here
she
felt
herself
at
one
with
the
world
spread
round
her
.
The
mother
eyes
of
a
blackbird
,
sitting
upon
her
eggs
in
the
ivy-tod
,
kept
their
bright
gold
on
Joan
,
but
showed
no
fear
;
the
young
rabbits
frisked
at
hand
;
a
mole
poked
his
snout
and
little
paddle-paws
out
of
the
grass
;
all
was
peace
and
happiness
,
it
seemed
,
with
the
voice
of
good
St.
Madron
murmuring
love
in
his
brooklet
at
hand
.
Joan
knelt
down
by
the
old
altar
and
bowed
her
head
there
and
prayed
to
Nature
and
to
God
.
At
first
merely
wordless
prayers
full
of
passionate
entreaty
rose
to
the
Throne
;
then
utterance
came
in
a
wild
simple
throng
of
petitions
;
and
all
her
various
knowledge
,
won
from
her
mother
and
John
Barren
,
found
a
place
.
Pan
and
Christ
might
each
have
heard
and
listened
,
for
she
called
on
the
gods
of
earth
and
heaven
from
a
heart
that
was
full
.
"
Kind
Mother
o
'
the
flowers
,
doa
n't
'
e
forget
a
poor
maiden
what
loves
'
e
so
dear
.
I
be
sad
an
'
sore-hearted
'
cause
things
is
bad
wi
'
me
now
Mister
Jan
's
gone
;
an
'
I
knaws
as
I
've
lied
an
'
bin
wicked
'
bout
Joe
,
but
,
kind
Mother
,
I
awnly
done
what
Mister
Jan
,
as
was
wise
an
'
loved
me
,
bid
.
Oh
,
God
A'mighty
,
doa
n't
'
E
let
en
forget
me
,
'
cause
I
've
gived
up
all
—
all
the
lil
I
had
for
en
,
an
'
Nature
made
me
as
I
be
.
Oh
,
kind
God
,
make
me
happy
an
'
light-hearted
an
'
strong
agin
,
same
as
the
lil
birds
an
'
sich
like
is
happy
an
'
strong
;
an
'
forgive
me
for
all
my
sins
an
'
make
me
well
for
Mister
Jan
,
an
'
clever
for
Mister
Jan
,
so
's
I
'll
be
a
fine
an
'
good
wife
to
en
.
An
'
forgive
me
for
lyin
'
,
'
cause
what
I
done
was
Nature
,
'
cordin
'
to
Mister
Jan
;
an
'
Nature
's
kind
to
young
things
,
'
cordin
'
to
Mister
Jan
;
an
'
I
be
young
yet
.
An
'
make
me
a
better
lass
,
for
I
caa
n't
abear
to
feel
as
I
do
;
an
'
make
me
think
o
'
the
next
world
arter
this
wan
.
But
,
oh
,
dear
God
,
make
me
well
an
'
braave
agin
,
for
'
tis
awful
wisht
for
me
wi'out
Mister
Jan
;
an
'
make
Mister
Jan
strong
too
.
I
be
all
in
a
miz-maze
and
doa
n't
knaw
wheer
to
turn
'
cept
to
Nature
,
dear
Lard
.
Oh
,
kind
God
A'mighty
,
lemme
have
my
angel
watchin
'
over
me
close
,
same
as
what
mother
used
to
say
he
did
allus
.
An
'
bring
Mister
Jan
back
long
very
quick
,
'
cause
I
'm
nothin
'
but
sadness
wi'out
en
.
An
'
,
dear
St.
Madern
,
I
ax
'
e
to
bless
me
same
as
you
done
when
—
when
I
was
a
lil
baaby
,
'
cause
I
be
gwaine
to
bathe
in
your
brook
,
bein
'
a
St.
Madern
cheel
.
Oh
,
dear
,
good
God
o
'
all
things
,
please
to
help
me
an
'
look
to
me
,
'
cause
I
be
very
sad
,
an
'
I
never
done
no
harm
to
none
,
for
Jesus
Christ
's
sake
.
Amen
.
"
Then
she
said
the
Lord
's
Prayer
,
because
her
mother
had
taught
her
that
no
human
petition
was
ever
heard
unless
accompanied
by
it
.
And
it
seemed
as
though
the
lark
,
winding
upward
with
wide
spiral
to
his
song-throne
in
the
sky
and
tinkling
thin
music
on
the
morning
wind
,
was
her
messenger
:
which
thought
was
beautiful
to
Joan
and
made
her
heart
glad
.
Never
had
she
looked
fairer
.
Her
blue
eyes
were
misty
,
but
the
magic
of
prayer
,
the
glory
of
speaking
straight
to
the
Father
of
all
,
call
Him
what
she
might
,
had
nobly
fortified
her
sinking
spirit
.
Peace
brooded
in
her
soul
then
,
and
faith
warmed
her
blood
.
She
was
sure
her
prayer
would
be
answered
;
she
was
certain
that
her
health
and
her
loved
one
would
both
come
back
to
her
.
And
she
stood
by
the
altar
and
smiled
at
the
golden
morning
,
herself
the
fairest
thing
the
sun
shone
upon
.
Having
peeped
shyly
about
her
,
Joan
took
off
her
clothes
,
placed
them
on
the
altar-stones
,
shook
down
her
hair
,
and
glided
softly
to
the
stream
.
At
one
point
its
waters
caught
the
sunshine
and
babbled
over
white
sand
between
many
budding
spikes
of
wild
parsley
and
young
fronds
of
fern
.
Naked
and
beautiful
the
girl
stood
,
her
bright
hair
glinting
to
her
waist
,
all
rippled
with
the
first
red
gold
of
the
morning
,
her
body
very
white
save
where
the
sun
and
western
wind
had
browned
both
arms
and
neck
;
her
form
innocent
as
yet
of
the
mystery
hid
for
her
in
Time
.
Joan
's
fair
limbs
spoke
of
blood
not
Cornish
,
of
days
far
past
when
a
race
of
giants
swept
up
from
behind
the
North
Sea
to
tread
a
new
earth
and
take
wives
of
the
little
dark
women
of
the
land
,
abating
the
still
prevalent
nigrescence
of
the
Celt
with
Saxon
eyes
and
hair
,
adding
their
stature
and
their
strength
to
races
unborn
.
A
sweet
embodiment
of
all
that
was
lovely
and
pure
and
fresh
,
she
looked
—
a
human
incarnation
of
youth
and
springtime
.
There
was
a
pool
deeper
than
the
general
shallowness
of
the
stream
which
served
for
Joan
's
bath
,
and
she
entered
there
,
where
soft
white
sand
made
pleasant
footing
for
her
toes
,
where
more
forget-me-nots
twinkled
their
turquoise
about
the
margin
,
where
shining
gorse
towered
like
a
sentinel
above
.
She
suffered
the
holy
water
to
flow
over
every
inch
of
her
body
,
and
then
,
rubbing
her
white
self
red
and
glowing
with
the
dead
brake
fern
of
last
year
and
squeezing
the
water
out
of
her
hair
,
Joan
quickly
dressed
again
and
prepared
to
depart
.
She
was
about
to
leave
a
fragment
torn
from
her
skirt
hanging
by
the
chapel
,
but
changed
her
mind
,
and
getting
a
splinter
of
granite
,
rough-edged
,
she
began
to
chip
away
a
tress
of
her
own
bright
hair
,
sawing
it
off
upon
the
stone
table
as
best
she
could
.
Like
a
fallen
star
it
presently
glimmered
in
the
thorn
bush
above
St.
Madron
's
altar
where
she
wound
the
little
lock
,
presently
to
bring
gold
to
the
nests
and
joy
to
the
heart
of
small
feathered
folk
.
Joan
walked
home
with
the
warm
blood
racing
in
her
veins
,
roses
on
her
cheeks
and
the
glory
of
hope
in
her
eyes
.
Already
she
felt
her
prayers
were
being
heard
;
already
she
was
thanking
God
for
heeding
her
cry
,
and
St
Madron
for
the
life-giving
waters
of
his
holy
stream
.
Thee
,
where
finches
chattered
and
fluttered
forward
,
breakfasting
together
in
pleasant
company
,
a
shadow
and
a
swift
,
strong
wing
flashed
across
Joan
's
sight
—
and
a
hawk
struck
.
The
little
people
shrieked
,
a
few
gray
feathers
puffed
here
and
there
,
and
one
spark
of
life
was
blown
out
that
other
sparks
might
shine
the
brighter
.
For
presently
Joan
's
kind
"
Mother
o
'
the
flowers
"
watched
the
beaks
of
fledgeling
hawks
grow
red
,
and
the
parent
bird
of
prey
's
cold
eyes
brightened
with
satisfaction
;
as
will
every
parent
eye
brighten
at
the
spectacle
of
baby
things
eating
wholesome
food
with
hearty
appetite
.
The
death
of
the
small
fowl
clouded
the
pilgrim
's
thoughts
,
but
only
for
a
moment
.
Sentiment
and
emotion
had
passed
;
now
she
was
eager
with
delicious
physical
hunger
and
longing
for
her
breakfast
.
The
girl
had
not
felt
so
well
or
so
happy
for
a
considerable
time
.
Half
her
prayer
,
she
told
herself
,
was
answered
already
;
and
the
other
half
,
relating
to
"
Mister
Jan
,
"
would
doubtless
meet
with
similar
merciful
response
ere
many
hours
had
flown
.
So
joyfully
homeward
out
of
dreamland
into
a
world
of
facts
Joan
hastened
.
CHAPTER
FOUR
A
THOUSAND
POUNDS
A
glad
heart
shortens
the
longest
road
,
and
Joan
,
whose
return
journey
from
the
holy
well
was
for
the
most
part
downhill
,
soon
found
herself
back
again
in
Penzance
.
The
fire
of
devotion
still
actuated
her
movements
,
and
she
walked
fearlessly
,
doubting
nothing
,
to
the
post-office
.
There
would
be
a
letter
to-day
;
she
knew
it
;
she
felt
it
in
her
consciousness
,
as
a
certainty
.
And
when
she
asked
for
it
and
mentioned
her
name
,
she
put
her
hand
out
and
waited
until
the
sleepy-eyed
clerk
rummaged
through
a
little
pile
of
letters
standing
together
and
tied
with
a
separate
string
.
She
watched
him
slowly
untie
them
and
scan
the
addresses
,
grumbling
as
he
did
so
.
Then
he
came
to
the
last
of
all
and
read
out
:
"
'
Miss
Joan
Tregenza
,
Post-Office
,
Penzance
.
To
be
left
until
called
for
.
'
"
"
Mine
,
mine
,
sir
!
I
knawed
'
e
'd
have
it
!
I
knawed
as
the
kind
,
good
—
"
Then
she
stopped
and
grew
red
,
while
the
clerk
looked
at
her
curiously
and
then
yawned
.
"
What
's
a
draggle-tailed
chit
like
her
got
to
do
with
such
a
thing
?
"
he
wondered
,
and
then
spoke
to
Joan
:
"
Here
you
are
;
and
you
must
sign
this
paper
—
it
's
a
registered
letter
.
"
Joan
,
her
hand
shaking
with
excitement
,
printed
her
name
where
he
directed
,
thanked
the
man
with
a
smile
that
softened
him
,
and
then
hastened
away
.
The
girl
was
faint
with
hunger
and
happiness
before
she
reached
home
.
She
did
not
dare
to
open
the
letter
just
then
,
but
took
it
from
her
pocket
a
dozen
times
before
she
reached
Newlyn
and
feasted
her
eyes
on
her
own
name
,
very
beautifully
and
legibly
printed
.
He
had
written
it
!
His
precious
hand
had
held
the
pen
and
formed
each
letter
.
Deep
,
wordless
thanks
welled
up
in
Joan
's
heart
,
for
God
was
not
very
far
away
,
after
all
.
He
had
heard
her
prayer
already
,
and
answered
it
within
an
hour
.
No
doubt
it
was
easy
for
Him
to
grant
such
a
little
prayer
.
It
could
be
nothing
much
to
God
that
one
small
creature
should
enjoy
such
happiness
;
but
what
seemed
wonderful
was
that
He
should
have
any
time
to
listen
at
all
,
that
He
should
have
been
able
to
turn
from
the
mighty
business
of
the
great
awakening
world
and
give
a
thought
to
her
.
"
Sure
'
twas
the
lil
lark
as
the
good
Lard
heard
,
an
'
my
asking
as
went
up-long
wi
'
en
,
"
said
Joan
to
herself
.
She
found
her
father
at
home
and
the
family
just
about
to
take
breakfast
.
Gray
Michael
had
returned
somewhat
unexpectedly
,
with
a
fine
catch
,
and
did
not
intend
sailing
again
before
the
evening
tide
.
A
somewhat
ominous
silence
greeted
the
girl
,
a
silence
which
her
father
was
the
first
to
break
.
"
Ayte
your
food
,
my
lass
,
an
'
then
come
in
the
garden
'
long
with
me
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
do
want
a
word
with
'
e
,
an
'
things
must
be
said
which
I
've
put
off
the
sayin
'
of
tu
long
.
So
be
quick
's
you
can
.
"
But
this
sauce
did
not
spoil
the
girl
's
enjoyment
of
her
porridge
and
treacle
.
She
ate
heartily
,
and
her
happy
humor
seemed
catching
,
at
least
so
far
as
Tom
was
concerned
.
A
bright
color
warmed
Joan
's
cheek
;
the
cloud
that
had
dimmed
her
eyes
was
there
no
longer
;
and
more
than
once
Mr.
Tregenza
looked
at
his
wife
inquiringly
,
for
the
tale
she
had
been
telling
of
Joan
's
recent
moods
and
disorder
was
at
variance
with
her
present
spirits
and
appetite
.
After
breakfast
she
went
to
her
room
while
her
father
waited
;
and
then
it
was
that
Joan
snatched
a
moment
to
open
John
Barron
's
letter
.
There
would
be
no
time
to
read
it
then
,
she
knew
:
that
delicious
task
must
take
many
hours
of
loving
labor
;
but
she
wanted
to
count
the
pages
and
see
"
Mister
Jan
's
"
name
at
the
end
.
She
knew
that
crosses
meant
kisses
,
too
.
There
might
be
crosses
somewhere
.
So
she
opened
the
envelope
in
a
fever
of
joyous
excitement
,
being
careful
,
however
,
not
to
tear
a
letter
of
the
superscription
.
And
from
it
there
came
a
fat
,
folded
pile
of
tissue
paper
.
Joan
knew
it
was
money
,
and
flung
it
on
her
bed
and
fumbled
with
sinking
heart
for
something
better
.
But
there
was
nothing
else
—
only
ten
pieces
of
tissue-paper
.
She
remembered
seeing
her
father
with
similar
pieces
;
and
her
mother
saying
there
was
nothing
like
Bank
of
England
notes
.
But
they
had
been
crumpled
and
dirty
,
these
were
snowy
white
.
Each
had
a
hundred
pounds
marked
upon
it
;
and
Joan
was
aware
that
ten
times
a
hundred
is
a
thousand
.
But
a
thousand
pounds
possessed
no
more
real
meaning
for
her
than
a
million
of
money
does
for
the
average
man
.
She
could
not
estimate
its
significance
in
the
least
or
gauge
its
possibilities
.
Only
she
knew
that
she
would
far
rather
have
had
a
few
words
from
"
Mister
Jan
"
than
all
the
money
in
the
world
.
Mr.
Tregenza
's
voice
below
broke
in
upon
the
girl
's
disappointment
,
and
,
hastily
hiding
the
money
under
some
linen
in
a
little
chest
of
drawers
,
where
the
picture
of
Joe
's
ship
was
also
concealed
,
she
hurried
to
join
her
father
.
But
the
empty
envelope
,
with
her
name
printed
on
it
,
she
put
into
her
pocket
that
it
might
be
near
her
.
Joan
did
not
for
an
instant
gather
what
meaning
lay
under
this
great
gift
of
money
,
and
to
her
the
absence
of
a
letter
was
no
more
than
a
passing
sorrow
.
She
read
nothing
between
the
lines
of
this
silence
;
she
only
saw
that
he
had
not
forgotten
,
and
only
thought
that
he
perhaps
imagined
such
vast
sums
of
money
would
give
her
pleasure
and
make
the
waiting
easier
.
What
were
banknotes
to
Joan
?
What
was
life
to
her
away
from
him
?
She
sighed
,
and
fell
back
upon
the
thought
of
his
wisdom
and
knowledge
.
He
must
be
in
the
right
to
delay
,
because
he
was
always
in
the
right
.
A
letter
would
presently
come
to
explain
why
he
had
sent
the
money
and
to
treat
of
his
return
.
The
girl
felt
that
she
had
much
to
thank
God
for
,
after
all
.
He
had
sent
her
the
letter
;
He
had
answered
her
prayer
in
His
own
way
.
It
ill
became
her
,
she
thought
,
to
question
more
deeply
.
She
must
wait
and
be
patient
,
however
hard
the
waiting
.
So
thinking
,
she
joined
her
father
.
Tom
was
away
up
the
village
,
Mrs.
Tregenza
found
plenty
to
occupy
her
mind
and
body
indoors
;
Joan
and
Mr.
Tregenza
had
the
garden
to
themselves
.
He
was
silent
until
they
reached
the
wicket
,
then
,
going
through
it
,
he
led
the
way
slowly
up
a
hill
which
wound
above
the
neighboring
stone
quarry
;
and
as
he
walked
he
addressed
Joan
.
She
,
weary
enough
already
,
prayed
that
her
parent
intended
going
no
further
than
the
summit
of
the
hill
;
but
when
he
spoke
she
forgot
physical
fatigue
,
for
his
manner
was
short
and
stern
.
"
Theer
's
things
bein
'
hid
'
twixt
you
an
'
me
,
darter
,
an
'
'
tis
time
you
spoke
up
.
Every
parent
's
got
some
responsibility
in
the
matter
of
his
cheel
's
sawl
,
an
'
,
if
theer
's
aught
to
knaw
,
'
tis
I
must
hear
it
.
'
The
faither
waketh
for
the
darter
when
no
man
knaweth
,
'
sez
the
Preacher
,
an
'
he
never
wrote
nothin
'
truer
.
I
've
waked
for
you
,
Joan
.
'
Keep
a
sure
watch
over
a
shameless
darter
,
'
sez
the
Preacher
agin
;
but
God
forbid
you
'm
that
.
Awnly
you
'm
allus
wool-gatherin
'
,
an
'
roamin
'
,
an
'
wastin
'
time
.
An
'
time
wance
squandered
do
never
come
agin
.
I
hear
tell
this
has
been
gwaine
forrard
since
Joe
went
to
sea
.
What
's
the
matter
with
'
e
?
Say
it
out
plain
an
'
straight
an
'
now
this
minute
.
"
Joan
had
particularly
prayed
by
the
Madron
altar
that
the
Everlasting
would
keep
her
from
lying
.
She
remembered
the
fact
as
her
father
put
his
question
;
and
she
also
recollected
that
John
Barron
had
told
her
to
say
nothing
about
their
union
until
he
returned
to
her
.
So
she
lied
again
,
and
that
the
more
readily
because
Gray
Michael
's
manner
of
asking
his
question
put
a
reasonable
answer
into
her
head
.
"
I
s'pose
as
it
might
be
I
'm
wisht
'
cause
o
'
Joe
Noy
,
faither
.
"
"
Then
look
'
e
to
it
an
'
let
it
cease
.
Joe
's
in
the
hand
o
'
the
Lard
same
as
we
be
.
He
's
got
to
work
out
his
salvation
in
fear
an
'
tremblin
'
same
as
us
.
Some
do
the
Lard
's
work
ashore
,
some
afloat
,
some
—
sich
as
me
—
do
it
by
land
an
'
sea
both
.
You
doa
n't
work
Joe
no
good
trapsing
'
bout
inland
,
here
,
theer
,
an
'
everywheers
;
an
'
you
do
yourself
harm
,
'
cause
it
makes
'
e
oneasy
an
'
restless
.
Mendin
'
holes
an
'
washin
'
clothes
an
'
prayin
'
to
the
Lard
to
'
a
'
mercy
on
your
sinful
sawl
's
what
you
got
to
do
.
Also
learnin
'
to
cook
'
gainst
the
time
you
'm
a
wife
an
'
the
mother
o
'
childern
,
if
God
so
wills
.
But
this
ba
n't
no
right
way
o
'
life
for
any
wan
,
gentle
or
simple
,
so
mend
it
.
A
gad-about
,
lazy
female
's
hell-meat
in
any
station
.
Theer
's
enough
of
'
em
as
'
tis
,
wi'in
the
edge
o
'
Carnwall
tu
.
What
was
you
doin
'
this
marnin
'
?
Mother
sez
'
er
heard
you
stirrin
'
'
fore
the
birds
.
"
"
I
went
out
a
long
walk
to
think
,
faither
.
"
"
What
'
e
want
to
think
'
bout
?
Your
plaace
is
to
du
,
not
to
think
.
God
'll
think
for
'
e
if
'
e
ax
;
an
'
the
sooner
you
mind
that
an
'
call
'
pon
the
A'mighty
the
better
;
'
cause
the
Devil
's
ready
an
'
willin
'
to
think
for
'
e
tu
.
Read
the
Book
more
an
'
look
about
'
e
less
.
Man
's
eyes
,
an
'
likewise
maid
's
,
is
best
'
pon
the
ground
most
time
.
Theer
's
no
evil
writ
theer
.
The
brain
of
man
an
'
woman
imagineth
ill
nearly
allus
,
for
why
?
'
Cause
they
looks
about
an
'
sees
it
.
Evil
comes
in
through
the
eyes
of
'
em
;
evil
's
pasted
large
'
pon
every
dead
wall
in
Newlyn
.
Read
the
Book
—
'
tis
all
summed
up
in
that
.
You
've
gotten
a
power
o
'
your
mother
in
'
e
yet
.
Not
but
you
've
bin
a
good
darter
thus
far
,
save
for
back-slidin
'
in
the
past
;
but
I
saved
your
sawl
then
,
thanks
be
to
the
voice
o
'
God
in
me
,
an
'
I
saved
your
mother
's
sawl
,
though
theer
was
tidy
wraslin
'
for
her
;
an
'
I
'll
save
yourn
yet
if
you
'll
do
your
paart
.
"
Here
Gray
Michael
paused
and
turned
homeward
,
while
Joan
congratulated
herself
upon
the
fact
that
a
conversation
which
promised
to
be
difficult
had
ended
so
speedily
and
without
misfortune
.
Then
her
father
asked
her
another
question
.
"
An
'
what
's
this
I
hear
tell
'
bout
you
bein
'
poorly
?
You
do
look
so
well
as
ever
I
knawed
'
e
,
but
mother
sez
you
'm
that
cranky
with
vittles
as
you
never
was
afore
,
an
'
wrong
inside
likewise
.
"
"
Ba
n't
nothin
'
,
faither
.
'
Tis
awver
an
'
done
.
I
ate
tu
much
or
some
sich
thing
an
'
I
be
bonny
well
agin
now
.
"
"
Doa
n't
be
thinkin
'
then
.
'
Tis
all
brain-sickness
,
I
'll
lay
.
I
doa
n't
want
no
doctor
's
traade
in
my
'
ouse
if
us
can
keep
it
outside
.
The
Lard
's
my
doctor
.
Keep
your
sawl
clean
,
an
'
the
Lard
'll
watch
your
body
.
'
E
's
said
as
much
.
'
E
knaws
we
'm
poor
trashy
worms
an
'
even
a
breath
o
'
foul
air
'll
take
our
lives
onless
'
E
be
by
to
filter
it
.
Faith
's
the
awnly
medicine
worth
usin
'
.
"
Joan
remembered
her
morning
bath
and
felt
comforted
by
this
last
reflection
.
Had
she
not
already
found
the
magic
result
?
For
a
moment
she
thought
of
telling
her
father
what
she
had
done
,
but
she
changed
her
mind
.
Such
faith
as
that
would
have
brought
nothing
but
wrath
upon
her
.
While
Mr.
Tregenza
improved
the
hour
and
uttered
various
precepts
for
his
daughter
's
help
and
guidance
,
Thomasin
was
occupied
at
home
with
grave
thoughts
respecting
Joan
.
She
more
than
suspected
the
truth
from
signs
of
indisposition
full
of
meaning
to
a
mother
;
but
while
duly
mentioning
the
girl
's
illness
,
Mrs.
Tregenza
did
not
dare
to
breathe
the
color
of
her
own
explanation
.
She
prayed
to
God
in
all
honesty
to
prove
her
wrong
,
but
her
lynx
eyes
waited
to
read
the
truth
she
feared
.
If
things
were
really
so
with
Joan
,
then
they
could
not
be
hid
from
her
eyes
much
longer
;
and
in
the
event
of
her
suspicions
proving
correct
,
Mrs.
Tregenza
told
herself
,
as
a
right
Luke
Gospeler
,
she
must
proclaim
her
horrid
discovery
and
let
the
perdition
of
her
husband
's
daughter
be
generally
made
manifest
.
She
knew
so
many
were
called
,
so
few
chosen
.
No
girl
had
ever
been
more
surely
called
than
Joan
:
her
father
's
trumpet
tongue
had
thundered
the
ways
of
righteousness
into
her
ears
from
her
birth
;
but
,
after
all
,
it
began
to
look
as
though
she
was
not
chosen
.
The
circumstance
,
of
course
,
if
proved
,
would
rob
her
of
every
Luke
Gospeler
's
regard
.
No
weak
pandering
with
sentiment
and
sin
was
permitted
in
that
fold
.
And
Mrs.
Tregenza
had
little
pity
herself
for
unfortunate
or
mistaken
women
.
Let
a
girl
lose
her
character
and
Thomasin
usually
refused
to
hear
any
plea
of
mercy
from
any
source
.
Only
once
did
she
find
extenuating
circumstances
:
in
a
case
where
a
ruined
farmer
's
daughter
brought
an
action
for
breach
of
promise
and
won
it
,
with
heavy
damages
.
But
money
acted
in
a
peculiar
way
with
this
woman
.
It
put
her
conscience
and
her
judgment
out
of
focus
,
softened
the
outlines
of
events
,
furnished
excuses
for
unusual
practices
,
gilded
with
a
bright
lining
even
the
blackest
cloud
of
wrongdoing
.
Where
Mrs.
Tregenza
could
see
money
she
could
see
light
.
Money
made
her
charitable
,
broad-minded
,
even
tolerant
.
She
knew
she
loved
it
,
and
was
careful
to
keep
the
fact
out
of
Gray
Michael
's
sight
as
far
as
possible
.
She
held
the
purse
,
and
he
felt
that
it
was
in
good
hands
,
but
cautioned
her
from
time
to
time
against
the
awful
danger
of
letting
a
lust
for
this
world
's
wealth
come
between
the
soul
and
God
.
And
now
a
course
long
indicated
in
Thomasin
's
mind
was
being
by
her
pursued
.
Having
convinced
herself
that
under
the
present
circumstances
any
step
to
found
or
dispel
her
fears
concerning
Joan
would
be
just
and
proper
,
she
took
the
exceptional
one
of
searching
the
girl
's
little
room
while
her
stepdaughter
was
out
with
Michael
.
Even
as
Mr.
Tregenza
turned
to
go
homeward
again
,
his
wife
stood
in
the
midst
of
Joan
's
small
sanctuary
,
and
cast
keen
,
inquiring
eyes
about
her
.
She
rarely
visited
the
apartment
,
and
had
not
been
in
it
for
six
months
.
Now
she
came
to
set
doubt
at
rest
if
possible
,
or
confirm
it
.
Her
own
secret
opinion
was
that
Joan
had
come
to
serious
trouble
with
her
superiors
.
In
that
case
letters
,
presents
or
tokens
had
probably
passed
into
her
hands
;
and
,
if
such
existed
,
in
this
room
they
would
be
.
"
God
send
as
I
'm
makin
'
a
mistake
an
'
shaa
n't
find
nothin
'
'
tall
,
"
said
Mrs.
Tregenza
to
herself
.
And
then
she
began
her
scrutiny
.
CHAPTER
FIVE
THE
TRUTH
Thomasin
saw
that
all
things
about
Joan
's
room
were
neat
,
spotless
,
and
in
order
.
For
one
brief
moment
a
sense
of
disquiet
at
the
action
before
her
touched
the
woman
's
heart
and
head
;
but
duty
alike
to
her
husband
and
her
stepdaughter
demanded
the
search
in
her
opinion
.
Should
there
be
nothing
to
find
,
so
much
the
better
;
if
,
on
the
other
hand
,
matters
affecting
Joan
's
temporal
and
eternal
welfare
were
here
hidden
,
then
they
could
not
be
uncovered
too
quickly
.
She
looked
first
through
the
girl
's
little
wooden
trunk
,
the
key
of
which
was
in
the
lock
,
but
nothing
save
a
childish
treasure
or
two
rewarded
Mrs.
Tregenza
here
.
In
a
broken
desk
,
which
had
belonged
to
her
mother
,
Joan
kept
a
few
Christmas
cards
,
and
two
silhouettes
:
one
of
Uncle
Thomas
,
of
Drift
,
one
of
Mary
Chirgwin
.
Here
were
also
some
cooking
recipes
copied
in
her
mother
's
writing
,
an
agate
marble
which
Joan
had
found
on
Penzance
beach
,
lavender
tied
up
in
a
bag
,
and
an
odd
toy
that
softened
Thomasin
's
heart
not
a
little
as
she
picked
it
up
and
looked
at
it
.
The
thing
brought
back
to
her
memory
a
time
four
years
earlier
.
It
was
a
small
,
grotesque
figure
on
wires
,
built
up
of
chestnuts
and
acorns
with
a
hazel-nut
for
its
head
and
black
pins
stuck
in
for
the
eyes
.
She
remembered
Tom
making
it
and
giving
it
to
Joan
on
her
birthday
.
Then
the
memory
of
Joan
's
love
for
Tom
from
the
time
he
was
born
came
like
a
glow
of
sunshine
into
the
mother
's
heart
,
and
for
a
moment
she
was
minded
to
relinquish
her
unpleasant
task
upon
the
spot
;
but
she
changed
her
intention
again
and
proceeded
.
The
box
held
little
else
save
a
parcel
of
old
clothes
tied
up
with
rosemary
in
brown
paper
.
These
the
woman
surveyed
curiously
,
and
knew
,
without
being
told
,
that
they
had
belonged
to
Joan
's
mother
.
For
some
reason
the
spectacle
killed
sentiment
and
changed
her
mood
.
She
shut
down
the
box
,
and
then
,
going
to
the
chest
of
drawers
,
pulled
out
each
compartment
in
turn
.
Nothing
but
Joan
's
apparel
and
her
few
brooches
and
trinkets
appeared
here
.
The
history
of
each
and
all
was
familiar
to
Mrs.
Tregenza
.
But
on
reaching
the
bottom
drawer
of
the
chest
,
she
found
it
locked
and
the
key
absent
.
To
continue
her
search
,
however
,
was
not
difficult
.
Nothing
separated
the
drawers
,
and
by
removing
that
above
the
last
,
the
contents
of
the
lowest
lay
at
her
mercy
,
It
was
full
of
linen
for
the
most
part
,
but
hidden
at
the
bottom
,
Thomasin
made
a
discovery
,
and
found
certain
matters
which
at
once
spoke
of
tremendous
mystery
,
and
,
to
her
mind
,
indicated
the
nature
of
it
.
First
she
came
upon
the
little
picture
of
Joe
's
ship
in
its
rough
gilded
frame
.
This
might
be
an
innocent
gift
from
some
of
the
young
men
who
had
asked
in
the
past
to
be
allowed
to
paint
Joan
and
received
a
curt
negative
from
Gray
Michael
.
But
the
other
discovery
meant
more
.
Pushing
her
hand
about
the
drawer
she
found
a
pile
of
paper
,
felt
the
crackle
of
it
,
and
pulled
it
eagerly
to
the
light
.
Then
,
and
before
she
learned
the
grandeur
of
the
sum
,
she
was
seized
with
a
sudden
palpitation
and
sat
down
on
Joan
's
bed
.
Her
mouth
grew
full
as
a
hungry
man
's
before
a
feast
,
her
lips
were
wet
,
her
hand
shook
as
she
opened
and
spread
the
notes
.
Then
she
counted
them
and
sat
gasping
like
a
landed
fish
.
Thomasin
had
never
seen
so
much
money
before
in
her
life
.
A
thousand
pounds
!
Unlike
Joan
,
to
whom
the
sum
conveyed
no
significance
,
Mrs.
Tregenza
could
estimate
it
.
Her
mind
reached
that
far
,
and
the
bank-notes
,
for
her
,
lay
just
within
the
estimation
of
avarice
.
Every
snowy
fragment
meant
a
hundred
pounds
—
a
hundred
sovereigns
—
two
hundred
ten-shilling
pieces
.
The
first
shock
overpast
,
and
long
before
she
grew
sufficiently
calm
to
associate
the
treasure
with
its
possessor
,
Mrs.
Tregenza
began
spending
in
her
mind
's
eye
.
The
points
in
house
and
garden
,
outhouse
and
sty
,
whereon
money
might
be
advantageously
expended
,
rose
up
one
after
the
other
.
Then
she
put
aside
eight
hundred
and
fifty
out
of
the
grand
total
and
pictured
herself
taking
it
to
the
bank
.
She
thought
of
a
nest-egg
that
would
"
goody
"
against
the
time
Tom
should
grow
into
a
man
;
she
saw
herself
among
the
neighbors
,
pointed
at
,
whispered
of
as
a
woman
with
hundreds
and
hundreds
of
pounds
put
by
;
she
saw
the
rows
of
men
sitting
basking
about
in
Newlyn
,
as
their
custom
is
when
off
the
sea
;
and
she
heard
them
drop
words
of
admiration
at
the
sight
of
her
.
Presently
,
however
,
this
gilded
vision
vanished
,
and
she
began
to
connect
the
money
with
Joan
.
She
solved
the
mystery
then
with
a
brutal
directness
which
hit
the
mark
in
one
direction
;
as
to
the
source
of
the
money
,
but
went
wide
of
it
in
some
measure
upon
the
subject
of
the
girl
.
Thomasin
held
briefly
that
her
stepdaughter
had
fallen
,
and
now
,
knowing
her
condition
,
had
informed
some
man
of
it
,
with
the
result
that
from
him
came
this
unutterable
gift
.
That
the
money
made
an
enormous
difference
to
Mrs.
Tregenza
's
mental
attitude
must
be
confessed
.
She
found
herself
fashioning
absolute
excuses
for
Joan
.
Girls
so
often
came
to
ill
through
no
fault
of
their
own
.
The
man
must
at
least
have
been
a
gentleman
to
pay
for
his
pleasure
in
four
figures
.
Four
figures
!
Here
she
stopped
thinking
in
order
to
picture
the
vision
of
a
unit
followed
by
three
ciphers
.
Then
she
marveled
as
to
what
manner
of
man
he
was
who
could
send
a
girl
like
Joan
a
thousand
pounds
.
She
never
heard
of
such
a
price
for
the
value
received
.
Her
respect
for
Joan
began
to
increase
when
she
realized
that
the
money
was
hers
.
Probably
there
was
even
more
where
that
came
from
.
"
Anyway
,
"
she
reflected
,
"
it
ba
n't
no
use
cryin
'
ower
spilt
milk
.
What
's
done
's
done
.
An
'
a
thousand
pounds
'll
go
long
ways
to
softenin
'
the
road
.
She
might
travel
up-long
to
Truro
to
my
cousin
an
'
bide
quiet
theer
till
arter
,
an
'
no
harm
done
,
poor
lass
.
When
all
's
said
,
us
knaws
the
Lard
Hissel
weer
mighty
easy
wi
'
the
like
o
'
she
,
an
'
worser
wenches
tu
.
But
Michael
—
God
A'mighty
knaws
he
wo
n't
be
easy
.
She
'm
a
damned
wummon
,
I
s'pose
,
but
she
's
got
to
live
through
'
er
life
here
—
damned
or
saved
;
an
'
she
's
got
a
thousand
pound
to
do't
with
.
A
terrible
braave
dollop
o
'
money
,
sure
'
nough
.
To
think
'
ow
'
ard
a
man
's
got
to
work
'
fore
he
earns
five
of
'
em
!
"
But
her
imagination
centered
upon
Gray
Michael
now
,
and
she
almost
forgot
the
banknotes
for
a
moment
.
She
thought
of
his
agony
and
trembled
for
the
result
.
He
might
strike
Joan
down
and
kill
her
.
The
man
's
anger
against
evil-doers
was
always
a
terrific
thing
;
and
he
had
no
idea
of
the
value
of
money
.
She
hazarded
guesses
at
the
course
he
would
pursue
,
and
each
idea
was
blacker
than
the
last
.
Then
Thomasin
fell
to
wondering
what
Michael
would
be
likely
to
do
with
the
money
.
She
sighed
at
this
thought
,
and
then
she
grew
pale
at
the
imaginary
spectacle
of
her
husband
tearing
the
devil-sent
notes
to
pieces
and
scattering
them
over
the
cliff
to
the
sea
.
This
horrible
possibility
stung
her
to
another
train
of
ideas
.
Might
it
be
within
her
power
to
win
Joan
's
secret
,
share
it
,
and
keep
it
from
the
father
?
Her
pluck
,
however
,
gave
way
when
she
looked
a
little
deeper
into
the
future
.
She
would
have
done
most
things
in
her
power
for
a
thousand
pounds
,
but
she
would
not
have
dared
any
treachery
to
Michael
.
The
woman
put
the
notes
together
and
stroked
them
and
listened
to
the
rustle
of
them
and
rubbed
her
hard
cheek
with
them
.
Then
,
looking
from
the
little
window
of
Joan
's
garret
,
she
saw
the
girl
herself
approaching
with
Mr.
Tregenza
.
They
were
nearly
home
again
,
so
Thomasin
returned
the
money
and
the
picture
to
their
places
in
the
chest
of
drawers
,
smoothed
the
bed
,
where
she
had
been
sitting
for
half
an
hour
,
and
went
downstairs
still
undetermined
as
to
a
course
of
action
.
Before
dinner
was
eaten
,
however
,
she
had
decided
that
her
husband
must
know
the
truth
.
Even
her
desire
toward
the
money
cooled
before
the
prospect
of
treachery
to
him
.
Fear
had
something
to
do
with
this
decision
,
but
the
woman
's
own
principles
were
strong
.
It
is
unlikely
that
in
any
case
they
would
have
broken
down
.
She
sent
Joan
on
an
errand
to
the
village
after
the
meal
was
ended
;
and
upon
her
departure
addressed
her
husband
hurriedly
.
"
You
said
I
was
'
mazed
to
dinner
,
an
'
so
I
was
.
I
've
gotten
bad
news
for
'
e
,
Michael
,
touchin
'
Joan
.
"
"
No
more
o
'
that
,
mother
,
"
he
answered
,
"
I
've
talked
wi
'
she
an
'
said
a
word
in
season
.
She
'm
well
in
body
an
'
be
gwaine
to
turn
a
new
leaf
,
so
theer
's
an
end
o
'
the
matter
.
"
"
'
Tedn
'
so
,
"
she
declared
,
"
I
've
bin
in
the
gal
's
room
an
'
I
've
found
—
but
you
bide
here
an
'
I
'll
bring
'
em
to
'
e
.
Hold
yourself
back
,
Michael
,
for
us
caa
n't
say
nothin
'
sure
till
us
knaws
the
truth
from
Joan
.
"
"
She
've
tawld
me
the
truth
out
a
walkin
'
an
'
I
've
shawed
her
the
narrer
path
.
What
should
you
find
?
"
"
Money
—
no
lil
come-by-chance
neither
;
more
money
than
ever
you
or
me
seed
in
our
born
days
afore
or
shall
agin
.
"
"
You
'm
dreamin
'
,
wummon
!
"
he
said
.
"
God
knaws
I
wishes
it
weer
so
,
"
she
answered
,
and
went
once
more
to
Joan
's
room
.
Gray
Michael
was
walking
up
and
down
the
kitchen
when
she
returned
,
and
Thomasin
said
nothing
,
but
put
money
and
picture
upon
the
table
.
Her
husband
fought
with
himself
a
moment
,
as
it
appeared
,
then
seemed
to
pray
a
while
,
standing
still
with
his
hand
pressed
over
his
eyes
,
and
finally
sat
himself
down
beside
the
things
which
Thomasin
had
brought
.
"
I
'd
no
choice
but
to
tell
'
e
,
"
she
said
.
Gray
Michael
's
eyes
were
on
the
picture
and
utter
astonishment
appeared
in
them
.
"
Why
!
'
tis
Joe
Noy
's
ship
.
Us
seed
her
off
the
islands
,
outward
bound
!
He
might
'
a
'
gived
it
her
hisself
surely
?
"
"
But
t'other
thing
;
the
money
.
Count
them
notes
.
Noy
never
gived
Joan
them
.
"
He
spread
the
parcel
,
counted
the
money
,
and
sat
back
thunderstruck
.
"
God
in
heaven
!
A
thousan
'
pound
,
an
'
notes
as
never
went
through
no
dirty
hands
neither
!
What
do
it
mean
?
"
"
How
should
I
tell
what
it
means
?
I
found
the
whole
fortune
hid
beneath
her
smickets
.
Lard
knaws
how
she
comed
by
it
.
What
have
the
likes
o
'
she
to
give
for
money
?
"
"
What
do
'
e
mean
by
that
?
"
he
blazed
out
,
rising
to
his
feet
and
clinching
his
fists
.
"
Ax
your
darter
.
Do
'
e
think
I
'd
dare
to
say
a
word
onless
I
was
sartain
sure
?
You
'd
smash
me
,
your
own
wife
,
if
I
weer
wrong
,
like
enough
.
I
ba
n't
wrong
.
Joan
's
wi
'
cheel
or
I
never
was
.
Maybe
that
thraws
light
on
the
money
,
maybe
it
doa
n't
.
I
did
pray
as
it
might
'
a
'
comed
out
to
be
her
man
at
sea
.
But
you
'll
find
it
weer
n't
.
God
help
'
e
,
Michael
,
my
heart
do
bleed
for
'
e
.
Can
'
e
find
it
in
'
e
to
be
merciful
same
as
the
Lard
in
like
case
,
or
—
?
"
He
raised
his
hand
to
stop
her
.
He
was
sitting
back
in
his
chair
with
a
face
that
had
grown
gray
even
to
the
skin
,
with
eyes
that
looked
out
at
nothing
.
There
was
a
moment
's
silence
save
for
the
tall
clock
in
the
corner
;
then
Tregenza
brushed
beads
of
water
off
his
forehead
and
dried
his
hand
on
his
trousers
.
He
raised
his
eyes
to
the
roof
and
gripped
his
hands
together
on
his
chest
and
slowly
spoke
a
text
which
his
wife
had
heard
upon
his
lips
before
,
but
only
at
times
of
deep
concern
or
emotion
.
"
'
The
Lard
is
king
,
be
the
people
never
so
impatient
;
He
sitteth
between
the
cherubims
,
be
the
airth
never
so
unquiet
.
'
"
Few
saw
any
particular
meaning
in
this
quotation
applied
in
moments
of
stress
,
as
Michael
usually
employed
it
;
but
to
the
man
it
was
a
supreme
utterance
,
the
last
word
to
be
spoken
in
the
face
of
all
the
evil
and
wickedness
of
the
world
.
Come
what
might
,
God
still
reigned
in
heaven
.
He
spoke
aloud
thus
far
,
and
afterward
,
by
the
movement
of
his
beard
and
lip
,
Thomasin
could
see
he
was
still
talking
or
praying
.
"
Let
the
Lard
lead
'
e
,
husband
,
in
this
hard
pass
,
"
she
said
.
"
'
Vengeance
is
Mine
,
'
the
Book
sez
.
"
He
turned
his
eyes
upon
her
.
His
brows
were
dragged
down
upon
them
;
he
had
brushed
his
gray
hair
like
bristles
upright
on
his
head
;
across
the
mighty
wall
of
his
forehead
jagged
cross-lines
were
stamped
,
like
the
broken
strata
over
a
cliff-face
.
"
Ay
,
you
say
it
.
Vengeance
be
God
's
awn
,
an
'
mercy
be
God
's
awn
.
'
Tedn
'
for
no
man
to
meddle
wi
'
them
.
Us
caa
n't
be
aught
but
just
.
She
'll
have
justice
from
me
—
no
more'n
that
.
'
Tis
all
wan
now
.
Wanton
or
no
wanton
,
she
've
flummoxed
me
this
day
.
The
giglot
lied
an
'
said
the
thing
that
was
not
.
She
'm
not
o
'
the
Kingdom
—
the
fust
Tregenza
as
ever
lied
—
the
fust
.
"
"
God
send
it
edn
'
as
bad
as
it
do
look
,
master
.
'
Er
caracter
belike
ba
n't
gone
.
S'pose
as
she
'm
married
?
"
"
Hould
your
clack
,
wummon
.
I
be
thinkin
'
.
"
He
was
thinking
,
indeed
.
In
the
face
of
this
discovery
,
the
ghost
of
an
idea
,
which
had
haunted
Gray
Michael
's
mind
more
than
once
during
the
upbringing
of
Joan
,
returned
a
greater
and
more
pronounced
shadow
than
ever
before
.
The
conviction
carried
truth
stamped
