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Updated: June 14, 2025
He's my employer, to start with, besides being what God made 'em. But, reason? You might as well try reason on the hind leg of a jackass. Go thy ways home, Tregarthen: go thy ways home an' teach yourself that all this world and the kingdoms thereof be but what the mind o' man makes 'em, and Saaron itself but a warren for rabbits." Tregarthen shook his head.
Of the history of his own farm-house he could tell you next to nothing, and nothing at all of the small ruined church he passed at least twice a day though this testified that Saaron had been populous once on a time. How long had the Tregarthens lived on the Island? How far back beyond the five or six generations attested by the signatures on old leases hidden away in his strong-box?
"It is true," said she pensively, "that I am fifteen years a stranger here." His face brightened. "Ah," said he, "if you will make allowance for that, we may yet put everything right!" Saaron Island lies about due north of Brefar, which looks eastward upon Inniscaw across the narrow gut of Cromwell's Sound.
By the very stoop of his shoulders over the paddles I seemed to read that the world had gone wrong with the man, and when he beached his boat and walked up the hill towards Saaron Farm, I felt sure of it. Of course you may laugh and set it down to fancy, for the man was a good three-quarters of a mile away." The Commandant, however, did not laugh.
"The Lord Proprietor, Mrs. Banfield, has a strong will of his own; but I certainly never heard that he was unjust." "Then you haven't heard, sir, what's happening over on Saaron?" "On Saaron, ma'am?" "On Saaron, sir.... Eh? No, to be sure.... Folks may suffer on the Islands in these days, but what use to tell the Governor?
"It appears, Commandant, that I have found a mare's nest; always supposing that this tale is a true one. You'll excuse me, ma'am, but service is service." The Commandant had turned to his writing-table, and was holding the letter under the lamplight. "I can go bail for Miss Cara," he answered, but without looking up. "Undoubtedly she comes from Saaron, and is Mrs. Tregarthen's sister.
"I fetched these from Saaron on my way to you," she explained. "We shall need them. Have you fairly strong heads for a climb? Very well, then" she sprang ashore with the painter in her hand, made it fast to a ring above the quay steps, and picked up the lantern. "Now forward! And no talking, please, until we are well past the house and out of hearing!"
"I came, sir, to see the Governor all the way across from Saaron. Eli that's my sister's husband is in terrible trouble over there, because the Lord Proprietor means to turn him off his farm. Yes, say!" she drew a letter from her bodice, and went on with rising voice. "Turn us out he will, though the Tregarthens have lived on the Island ever since Saaron was Saaron.
He wants to bide and see his youngest da'rter's child, or he wants to linger and mend a thatch on the linhay his married son can't be brought to see the importance o't.... What with one thing and another, I never knowed a married man yet 'was fit to die; whereas your cheerful bachelor comes up clean as a carrot. What brings you across from Saaron to-day, Tregarthen?
Sir Cæsar clasped his hands behind him under his coat-tails, and paced the room. "His insolence to me apart, he is a complete fool! I offer him the choice of two farms either one of them acre for acre, worth twice the rental of Saaron.... I simply cannot understand!" "No," said Vashti, with a little sigh, "you cannot understand."
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