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Updated: May 27, 2025
"He left the cross what Mr. Grimbal found upsy-down in the airth; he stood up afore the company an' damned the glory of all Christian men. Ess fay, he done that fearful thing, an' if 't weern't enough to turn the Lard's hand from un, what was? Snug an' vitty he weer afore that, so far as anybody knawed; an' since why, troubles have tumbled 'pon each other's tails like apple-dranes out of a nest."
My mother and Will Will who's a hard judge, an' such a clean man." "'Clean'! Christ A'mighty! You'd madden a saint of heaven! Weern't Clem clean, tu? If God sends fire-fire breaks out sweet, livin' fire. You must go through with it aye, an' call the bwoy Clem, tu. Be you shamed of him as he lies here? Be you feared of anything the airth can do to you when you look at him?
"An' doan't I love, tu? Weern't he all the world to me, tu? Isn't my heart broken so well as yours?" sobbed Chris. "Hear this, you wummon as talks of a broken heart," answered the elder almost harshly.
"Axing pardon for taking up any of your time, sir," he began, "but theer'm a matter concerning a party in your business as painted a maiden here, by name o' Joan Tregenza. She weern't nobody awnly a fisherman's darter, but the picksher was said to be done in these paarts, an' I thot, maybe, you'd knaw who drawed it."
"'Twas put in me to say; I doan't knaw how ever I done it, but my tongue weern't my awn for the time. Pull that thing tighter about 'e. This rain would go through a barn door." At the steep hill rising from Mousehole to Paul, Uncle Chirgwin got out and walked, while the horse, with his shoulders to the collar, plodded forward.
"That's awnly to hasten the end." "The sooner the better." He tramped up and down the bedroom with his eyes on the ground, his hands in his pockets. "A tremendous thing to tumble up on the surface arter all these years; an' a tremendous time for it to come. 'T was a crime 'gainst the Queen for my awn gude ends. I had to choose 'tween her an' you; I'd do the same to-morrow. The fault weern't theer.
Get you gone, you fagot, you an' this here white-haired sawl, as is foolin' you an' holdin' converse wi' the outcast o' heaven. I ban't no faither o' yourn, thank God, as shawed me I weern't never, never. Gaw! Gaw both of 'e. My God! the sight of 'e do sicken me as I stand in the same air. You an auld man touchin' her an' her devil-sent, filthy moneys.
Indeed he heard little after the first rambling outburst, for his own thoughts were busy with the problems of Tregenza's fate. "Sit down, mariner. I shan't sail till marnin' an' you'm welcome. Theer be thots in me so deep as Levant mine, but I doan't speak 'em for anybody's hearin'. Joan weern't none o' mine, an' I knawed it, thanks be to God, 'fore ever she played loose.
If 't was your duty, why didn't you do it fust minute you found it out? If you'd writ to the authorities an' gived the man up fust moment, I might have said 't was a hard deed, but I'd never have dared to say 't weern't just. Awnly you done no such thing. You nursed the power an' sucked the thought, same as furriners suck at poppy poison.
"Tell me all every-thin' you can call home all what her said of him." "Fust she thot a 'mazin' deal 'bout en," explained the farmer; "then time made her mind get stale of en, an' she begin to see us was right. He sent money a thousand pound, an' I poor fool thot Joan weern't mistook at fust. But 'twas awnly conscience money; an' now Thomasin's the better for't by will."
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