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Updated: June 2, 2025
That evening Thomasin had another spasm of face-ache and went to bed soon after drinking tea. Michael was due at home about ten o'clock or earlier, and Joan having set out supper, made all ready, and ascertained that her stepmother had gone to sleep walked out to the pierhead, there to wait for Mr. Tregenza and Tom.
"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.
Her stepmother's voice cut these pleasant memories sharply, and she returned home to find that Uncle Chirgwin had already arrived a fact his old gray horse, tethered in the orchard, and his two-wheeled market cart, drawn up in the side-lane, testified to before Mrs. Tregenza announced it. "Out again, of coorse, just because you knawed I was to be drove off my blessed legs to-day.
She found it hard to forgive the Tregenzas, and when, six months afterward, the sleepy farm life at Drift was startled by news of Joan's love affair, Mary, in the first flush of her reawakened agony, spoke bitterly enough; and even that most mild-mannered of men, her uncle, said that Michael Tregenza had done an ugly act. But the fisherman was at no time concerned with Mary or with Joan.
"He sits theer chitterin', ding dong, ding dong, all the wisht day. Tom's death drove en cracked, but 'e ban't no trouble, 'cept at feedin' times. Besides, I keeps a paid servant girl now," said Mrs. Tregenza. Joe Noy had heard neither the man nor the woman. From the moment that he knew the truth concerning Joan his own thoughts barred his ears to all utterances. "Who weer it? Tell me the name.
Joan Tregenza lived in a white cottage already mentioned: that standing just beyond Newlyn upon a road above the sea. The cot was larger than it appeared from the road and extended backward into an orchard of plum and apple-trees.
Poor dear sawl, she'm dead an' gone, an' she loved 'e wi' all her 'eart, as I, what knawed her, can testify to." "No more o' that," he said, "the gal's comin'. Thank God she ban't no cheel o' mine thank God, as 'ave tawld me 'tedn' so. He whispered it, an' I put it away an' away. Now I knaws. You bide here, Thomasin Tregenza, and I'll speak what's fittin'."
Theer's gwaine to be a deal o' clome liftin' at Perm's cottage bimebye," said another of the party. "No honeymoon neither, so I hear tell," added Mrs. Tregenza. "But Taskes have bought flam-new furniture for his parlor, they sez," declared the former speaker. "Of coorse. Still no honeymoon 'tall! Who ever heard tell of sich a thing nowadays? I wonder they ban't 'shamed." "Less shame, Mrs.
But when, amid cheers and to the strains of the Temperance Brass Band, she lay moored at length upon a fairly even keel, with the red ensign drooping from a staff over her stern, he climbed the hill to find Tregenza contemplating her with pride through the gap in his ruined wall. "I missed 'ee at the christ'nin'," said the old man. "But it went off very well.
A moment later derisive laughter greeted Barron's decision, for Murdoch, in answer to a hail of questions, announced the subject of his friend's inspiration. "We strolled round this morning and saw Joan Tregenza in an iron hoop with a pail of water slung at either hand." "So your picture begins and ends where it is, Barron, my friend; in your imagination.
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