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Updated: June 2, 2025
"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 didn'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.
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."
How am I to make those who may see my picture some day years after you and I are both dead and gone, Joan fall in love with you?" "La! I dunnaw, Mister Jan." "Nor do I. How shall I make the picture so true that generations unborn will delight in the portrait and deem it great and fine?" "I dunnaw." "And yet you deserve it, Joan, for I don't think God ever made anything prettier."
You and I come from the same class, Joan; from the people. The only difference is that my father happened to make a huge fortune in London. Guess what he sold?" "I dunnaw." "Fish just plaice and flounders and herrings and so forth. He sold them by tens of thousands. Your father sells them too. But what d'you think was the difference? Why, your father is an honest man; mine wasn't.
"Has my poor little Lady of the Gorse forgiven me at last? She won'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.
He thanked her for her information so gratefully. Moreover, he evidently cared so little about her or her looks. She felt perfectly safe, for it was easy to see that he thought more of the gorse than anything. "My faither's agin such things an' sayin's," she babbled on, "but I dunnaw. They seems truth to me, an' to many as is wiser than what I be.
Reaching her through the dreadful strangeness of disaster, the soft Devon dialect smote on Diana's ears with a sense of dear familiarity that was almost painful. She laid her hand on the woman's arm. "What is it?" she asked. "Have you lost your child?" The woman looked at her vaguely, bewildered by the surrounding horror. "Iss. Us dunnaw wur er's tu; er's dade, I reckon. Aw, my li'l, li'l chiel!"
An' theer's another marvelous thing as washin' in thicky waters done: it kep' the fairies off the bad fairies, I mean. 'Cause theer'm gude an' bad piskeys, same as gude an' bad men folks." "You believe in fairies, Joan?" She looked at him shyly, but he had apparently asked for information and was not in the least amused. "I dunnaw. P'raps. Iss, I do, then! Many wiser'n me do b'lieve in 'em.
Joan'll be a wummon 'fore us can look round, mother." "Iss an' a fine an' lazy wummon tu. I wish you could make her work like what Mary does up Drift." "Well, I dunnaw. You see there's all sorts of girls, same as plants an' 'osses an' cetera. Some's for work, some's for shaw. You 'specks a flower to be purty, but you doan't blame a 'tater plant 'cause 'e ed'n particular butivul.
I cannot paint the soul of each little yellow flower that opens to the sun; I cannot paint the sunny smell that is sweet in our nostrils now. God's gorse scents the air; mine will only smell of fat oil. What shall I do?" "I dunnaw." "No more does anybody. It can't be helped.
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