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Updated: June 29, 2025
"The man must face sorrer same as what us all have got to, Mrs. Tregenza. Some gets more, some gets less, as the sparks fly up'ard. Joe Noy's got religion tu." Mary spoke the last words with some bitterness, which she noted too late and set against herself for a sin. "Oh, my dear sawl," said Mrs. Tregenza, looking round nervously, as though she feared the shadow of her husband might be listening.
Your two-edged tongue do make me feel sometimes as though I did ought to go right away from 'e, though God knaws God, He knaws " Billy hid his face and began to weep, while Mr. Lyddon watched the candle-light converge to a shining point upon his bald skull. "Doan't go against a word in season, my dear sawl. 'Tis our duty to set each other right. That's what we'm put here for, I doubt.
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.
She uttered them in a sad, low voice, but her hand was in his, pressing it close the while. "Awften an' awften I've axed the A'mighty to give me wan little glint o' knawledge as how 'twould all end. If I'd knawed! But I never guessed how big your sawl was, Martin. I never thought you was the manner of man to love a woman arter that." "God knows what's in my heart, Chris."
"I hope the Lard won't lay thy sin to thy charge, my poor sawl," answered the fisherman with perfect indifference. "You you dares to speak agin me! I wish I could give 'e a hand an' drag 'e a lil higher up the ladder o' righteousness, Chirgwin; but you'm o' them as caan't dance or else won't, not if God A'mighty's Self piped to 'e.
"Bitter speeches won't serve 'e, Grimbal; but they show me mighty clear what's hid in you. Your sawl 's torn every way by this thing, an' you turn an' turn again to it, like a dog to his vomit, yet the gude in 'e drags 'e away." "Better cut all that. You won't tell me what you've come for, so I'll tell you. You want me to promise not to move in this matter, is that so?" "Why, not ezackly.
Tom had his sea-boots on, an' every sawl 'pon the bwoat knawed 'twas all up as soon as we lost en. We shawed a light an' tumbled 'bout for quarter o' an hour wi' the weather gettin' wicked. Then comed a scat as mighty near thrawed us 'pon our beam-ends, an' took the mizzen 'long wi' it. 'Tis terrible bad luck, sure 'nough, for never a tidier bwoy went feeshin'; but theer's worse to tell 'e.
He's allus a bawlin' an' squealin', poor sawl, but you can awnly hear en now an' again 'fore a storm when the gale blaws his hollerin' this way." "Who was Tregagle?" "He was a lawyer man wance, an' killed a many wives, an' did a many shameful deeds 'fore he went dead.
I won't speak no more 'bout that subjec'. 'Tis good fashion weather for 'e just now, an us'll hope as you ban't gwaine to die for many a day." "Say it out, mister, say it out. I knaws what you means. You reckons if I gaws I'm lost." "My poor sawl, justice is justice; an' the Lard's all for justice an' no less. Theer's no favorin' wi' Him, Albert."
His sawl was bleedin' an' his hands raw a batterin' the gate o' heaven 'fore you was born, Polly ay, an' he'd got the bettermost o' the devil wance for all 'fore you was conceived in the womb; you mind that." "Us caan't get the bettermost o' the devil wance for all," said Mary, changing the issue, "no not no more'n us can wash our skin clean wance for all.
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