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"That's impossible, I fear, unless you go to London. I cannot help you further than to say the artist lives there and his picture is being exhibited at an art gallery. Somebody told me that much; but which it is I don't know." This was enough for Noy.
But I think it was a whisper from the maidservant which caused the farmer to ejaculate, as he helped me to a chair: "And you've walked across Blackadon Down at this hour of night! My word, sirs, and saving your reverence, but you had a nerve, if you'd only known it!" "Why, what's the matter with Blackadon?" asked Mr. Noy sharply. Farmer Menhennick faced him with a deprecatory grin.
"Leave the likes of en to the God of en. Brace yourself agin this sore onset an' pray to Heaven to forgive all sinners." Noy looked at the old man and his great jaw seemed to spread laterally with his thought. "God have gived the man to me! that's why I be here: to knaw all any can teach me. I've got to be the undoin' o' that devil the undoin' an' death of en.
The farmer had blazed with indignation when Joe Noy flung over Mary Chirgwin because she would not become a Luke Gospeler. But the matter was now blown over, for the jilted girl, though the secret bitterness of her sorrow still bred much gall in her bosom, never paraded it or showed a shadow of it in her dark face.
A gert pichsher o' Joan he drawed all done out so large as life; an' I found it, an' it 'peared as if the dead was riz up again an' staring at me. If 'tis all the saame to you, Mary, us'll go an' look 'pon her graave now, for I abbun seen it yet." They walked in silence for some hundred yards along the lanes to Sancreed. Then Noy spoke again. "How be uncle?" "Betwix' an' between.
Edmund Murdoch was not in Newlyn, Brady had gone to Brittany; but at the seventh studio which he visited, Joe Noy substantiated some of his facts.
Almost as we entered a window was opened overhead, and a man's voice challenged us. "Whoever you be, I've a gun in my hand here!" he announced. "We are two travellers by the mail coach," Mr. Noy announced; "one a clergyman and the other an officer in the King's service." "You don't tell me the coach is upset?" "And one of us has a broken collar-bone, and craves shelter in Christian charity.
What's the name of this parish?" "Hey?" The man broke off to silence the noise of his dogs. "What's the name of this parish?" "Braddock." "I thought so. Then mine is Noy Timothy Noy and I'm your rector. Weren't you expecting me?" "Indeed, sir, if you're Mr. Noy, the Squire had word you might be coming down this week; and 'twas I, as churchwarden, that posted your name on the church door.
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?
Amid this group, too, was a National Guard, strayed from his proper post, and stretched on the frozen ground; and, early though the hour, in the profound sleep of intoxication. "So," said Loubinsky, "you have found your errand in vain, Citizen le Noy; another victim to the imbecility of our generals." "And partly one of us," replied the Medecin des Pauvres.
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