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Updated: June 19, 2025
If us could send en a pound o' charity, I doubt he'd be better for't." "Faither's a holy man, whatever else he be," said Tom stoutly. "He doan't want for no good qualities like, 'cause what he doan't knaw 'bout God edn' worth knawin'." Mary laughed. It was a feat she seldom performed, and the sound of her amusement lacked joy. "Well, us won't argue 'bout en. You'm right to say that.
It's all wan to a dead corpse whether 'tis took to the yard in a black hearse wi' plumes, same as what us shall be, or whether 'tis borne 'pon wan o' them four 'anded stretchers used for carryin' fishin' nets, same as poor Albert Vallack was a while back but wan way's proper an' t'other 'edn'." "They'm savin' the money for the feed.
She sighed and bent her head and turned her eyes away from him, then spoke hurriedly: "I doan't knaw how to tell 'e, an' us reckoned theer weern't no call to, an' us weern't gwaine to tell; but these things be in the Lard's hand an' theer edn' no hidin' what He means to let out. A sorry, cruel home-comin' for 'e, Joe. Poor lass, her's done wi' all her troubles now, an' the unborn cheel tu.
What do 'e think o' a thousand pound for a sawl? Cheap as dirt eh? 'Thou hast covered thyself with a cloud that our prayer should not pass through. Not as prayers can save what's lost for all eternity 'fore 'tis born into time. He ruined her; he left her wi' cheel; but ban't likely the unborn clay counts. God Hisself edn' gwaine to damn a thing as never drawed breath.
You don't trust, nor love, nor " "Doan't 'e say that! Never say that! It edn' true. You'm all to me, an' you knaws it right well, an' I'll gaw to the world's end with 'e, I will ay, an' trust 'e wi' my life!" He moved away and she followed, hastening as he hastened. Unutterable desolation marked the spot.
'Tis wonnerful clever, an' theer edn' no call to be sad, for no man else could a done better, I lay." He did not answer, and still held her hand. Then there came a harder breath of wind with a sob of sound in it, while already over the distant sea swept separate gray curtains of rain. "It's coming, Joan; the storm. It's everywhere, in earth and air and water; and in my blood.
Tregenza fired up, for she resented any criticism on this subject other than her own. "An' why not, Polly Chirgwin? Who's a right to doubt it? Not you, I reckon, Ban't your plaace to judge a man as walks wi' God, like Moses done. If Michael edn' saved, then theer's no sawl saved 'pon land or sea. You talk a young maiden!
"A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." But how when the boy is a cripple? One afternoon he was stooping to inspect an obstinate piece of boring when the man at his elbow said: "Hullo! edn' that young Joey Pezzack in diffities up there? Blest if the cheeld won't break his neck wan of these days!"
"Us'll talk now. I be off by light. I 'edn' gwaine to stop no more. Faither sez I ban't no cheel o' his an' he doan't want to see my faace agen. Then he shaan't. I'll gaw to them as won't be 'shamed o' me: my mother's people." "Doan't 'e be in no tearin' hurry, Joan," said Mrs. Tregenza, thinking of the money.
Who'd a thot the like o' her had got a whore's forehead? An' tokened at that tokened to a sailor-man by name o' Noy. Let'n come home, let'n come home an' call the devil as did it to his account. Let the Lard see to't so that man edn' 'lowed to flourish no more. I be tu auld an' broken for any sich task. 'For the hurt o' the darter o' my people I am hurt."
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