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Updated: May 17, 2025
'Sitha, said he softly, 'thot's better than owt, for a mon can bash t' faace wi' thot, an', if he divn't, he can breeak t' forearm o' t' gaard. Tis not i' t' books, though. Gie me t' butt. 'Each does ut his own way, like makin' love, said Mulvaney quietly; 'the butt or the bay'nit or the bullet accordin' to the natur' av the man.
He don't mean never to look 'pon my faace agin, nor me 'pon his. The cottage edn' no home for me no more." "Joan, gal alive! what talk be this?" "'Tis gospel. I'm a damned wummon, 'cordin' to my faither as was." "God A'mighty! You paart a Chirgwin as comed, o' wan side, from her as loved the Lard so dear, an', 'pon t'other, from him as feared un so much. Never, Joan!"
So I've brot her, an' what blame comes o't my shoulders is more'n broad enough to carry. I wish, for my paart, as Michael was home, so's I might faace en when Joan says what her've comed to say. I be gwaine to Penzance now, 'pon a matter o' business, an' I'll come back here in an hour or so an' drink a dish o' tea along with you 'fore we staarts."
Wipe your shiny eyes an' keep a happy faace to 'em, an' never let wan of the lot dream what's hid in 'e. Cock your li'l nose high, an' be peart an' gay. An' let un buy you what he will, 't is no odds; we can send his rubbish back again arter, when he knaws you'm another man's wife.
But a man's a man, not a post or a holy angel. Us wouldn't hear such a deal about angels' tempers either if they'd got to faace all us have." "That's profanity an' wickedness." "'Tis truth. Any fule can be a saint inside heaven; an' them that was born theer and have flown 'bout theer all theer time, like birds in a wood, did ought to be even-tempered. What's to cross'em?"
"You can say that? Then we'll put you out of the question. I, at least, shall do my duty." "Is it part of your duty to bully me here alone? Why doan't 'e faace the man, like a man, 'stead of blusterin' to me 'bout it? Out on you! Let me pass, I tell 'e." "Doan't make that noise. Just listen and stand still. I'm in earnest. It pleases me to know the true history of this child, and I mean to.
Nobody would buy two auld dogs, for that matter." "Though how a upland dog like Ship be gwaine to faace the fiery sunshine on furrin gawld diggings, I caan't answer.
"I'm glad you found them; now I can tell the truth." "Truth!" thundered Michael. "Truth what do you knaw 'bout Truth, darter o' Baal? Your life's a lie, your tongue's rotten in your mouth wi' lyin'. Never look in no honest faace agin!" "You'd do best to bide still while I tell 'e what this here means," said Joan quietly. The man's anger alarmed her no more than the squeak of a caged rat.
The trouble an' loss o' Joan aged en cruel, an' the floods has brot things to a close pass. 'Twas the harder for en 'cause all looked so more'n common healthy an' promisin' right up to the rain. But he's got the faith as moves mountains; he do knaw that sorrer ban't sent for nort." "An' you? I wonder I'm bowldacious 'nough to look 'e in the faace, but sorrer's not forgot me neither."
He turned 'pon en sudden an' sez: 'Praise God, praise the Lard o' Hosts, my sons, here's Tom, here's my lad as us thot weer drownded! Then he kissed that beast, an' it licked his faace, an' he cried that iron sawl cried like a wummon!
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