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Updated: June 2, 2025
Never quarrel with any man's candlestick as long as you can see his light burning bravely. Mr. Tregenza thinks all men are mistaken but the Luke Gospelers so you told me. But if that is the case, what becomes of all your good Cornish saints? They were not Luke Gospelers at least I don't think they were."
While he stood and cast about for words, his face growing redder and redder, a breeze of air from the hill behind the cottage blew open the upper flap of its back door which Tregenza had left on the latch and passing through the kitchen, slammed-to the door leading into the street. The noise of it made the Elder jump.
In a few more minutes, Mary and Joe reached Sancreed churchyard and soon stood beside the grave of Joan Tregenza. "The grass won't close proper till the spring come," said Mary; "then the turf will grow an' make it vitty; an' uncle's gwaine to set up a good slate stone wi' the name an' date an' some verses. I planted them primroses 'long the top myself. If wan abbun gone an' blossomed tu!"
The bwoats is sailin' back tu a frothin' in proper ower the lumpy water." "Then you'd best be movin'," said Mrs. Tregenza. "I judged bad-fashioned weather was comin' tu when I touched the string o' seaweed as hangs by the winder. 'Tis clammy to the hand. God save us!" she continued, turning from the door, "theer's ourn at the moorin's!
"She've lied to me," was his answer; "she've lied oftentimes; she'm false to whatever I did teach her; she've sawld herself she've no more on it no more on it but awnly this: I call 'pon God A'mighty to bear witness she'm no Tregenza never never." "'Tweer her mother in the gal; but doan't 'e say more 'bout that, Michael.
An' 'tis the same here, 'cause God's eye be on you, Joan Tregenza, an' His eye caan't be fixed 'pon no spot wi'out brightening all around. You mind me, that's solemn truth. The Lard's watchin' over you watchin' double tides, as the sailors say and so this bit o' airth's smilin' from the herb o' the field to the biggest tree as graws.
She was, in fact, her mother's child rather than her father's. His ancestors before him had fought the devil and lived honest lives under a cloud of fear; Michael's own brother had gone religious mad, when still a young man, and died in a lunatic asylum; indeed the awful difficulty of saving his soul had been in the blood of every true Tregenza for generations.
Two gentlemen were with him, and I heard him say, in answer to one of them as he left the gallery, that he had quite recently endeavored to learn some particulars of Joan Tregenza, his model, but had failed to do so as yet."
Michael Tregenza had found religion, of a sort fiery and unlovely enough, but his convictions were definite, with iron-hard limitations, and he looked coldly and without pity on a damned world, himself saved. Gray Michael had no sympathy with sin and less with sinners.
I've most a mind to go up Drift an' see her for a reason I've thot upon. Did Joan say anythin' 'bout a last will an' testament to 'e?" "No, nothin' 'bout anything worth namin'. But Polly had a deal to say. Her wished her could send faither a pound o' charity 'stead o' butter." "She dared!" At that moment Mr. Tregenza returned to supper, and soon afterward his son went to bed.
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