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Updated: May 1, 2025
"It ed'n for me to sit in the Judgment Seat, Albert. 'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lard. You must allus hold in mind that theer's mighty few saved alive, best o' times. Many be called, but few chosen.
"But mightn't He favor the whole bilin' of us good'n bad cause He made us?" "Surely not. Wheer's the justice o' that? If He done that, how'd the godly get their fair dues eh? Be the righteous man to share God's Heaven wi' publicans an' sinners? That ed'n justice anyhow. Don't fret, lad; tears won't mend bad years. Bide quiet an' listen to me whiles I pray for 'e."
That ed'n 'sackly the same, I s'pose?" "As different as fear and love. I'm not an atom frightened of God myself no more than I am of you." "Lard! Mister Jan." "Why should I be? You are not frightened of the air you breathe yet that is part of God; you are not frightened of the gold gorse or the blue sky yet they are part of God too.
As it happened, however, she already liked the man. He was so respectful and polite. Moreover, she felt sad to hear that he suffered in health. He would not ask her to do wrong and she felt certain that she might trust him. A trembling wish and a longing to comply with his request already mastered her mind. "You'm sure gospel truth theer ed'n no harm in it?" "Trust me."
The brighter burned his own shining light, the blacker the shadows it threw upon the future of all sinners. As Tregenza finished and put down his Bible, the other spoke and quoted eagerly: "'Incline your ear an' come unto Me; fear, an' your sawl shall live! Theer do seem a hope in that if it ed'n awver-bold me thinkin' so?" he asked.
The master of Middle Hemyll speedily enlightened him, and the visitor learned that not only did he speak to the possessor of the cow-byre, but that Farmer Ford was a keen supporter of art, and would be happy to rent his outhouse for a moderate consideration. "The land ban't under pasture now, an' the plaace ed'n much used just this minute, so you'm welcome if you mind to.
"Come in, will 'e, an' ait your food, bwoy. Theer ed'n no call to kick out they boots agin' the pig's 'ouse because I be gwaine to buy new wans for 'e presently." Fired by a word which she had heard from John Barron, that flowers became the house as well as the garden, Joan plucked an early sprig of pink ribe and the first buds of wall-flower before returning to the kitchen.
"So you walked out from Mouzle to see the last of Joe's ship?" he asked, quite seriously and with no light note in his voice. "From Newlyn. I ed'n a Mouzle maid," she answered. "Is the 'Anna' coming home again soon?" "No, sir. Her's bound for the Gulf of Californy, round t'other side the world, Joe sez. He reckons to be back agin' come winter." "That's a long time." "Iss, 'tis."
You'm in the Lard's hand, an' it becomes 'e to sing small, an' remember what your life's bin." The other grew uneasy and his voice faltered while he still fought for a happy eternity. "I'd felt like 'twas all right arter what mother read." "Not so. God's a just God 'fore everything. Theer ed'n no favorin' wi' Him.
I'm not strong, you know, and I daresay this is the last picture I shall ever paint." "You ed'n strong, sir?" "Not at all." She was silent, and a great sympathy rose in her girl's heart, for frail health always made her sad. "You don't judge 'tis wrong then for a maiden to be painted in a picksher?" "Certainly not, Joan.
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