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But my folks weern't hard to give up. 'Tis long since they was ought to me now. I gaws an' comes from the cottage an' sez, all the time, 'this ban't home no more. Mister Jan's home be mine, I sez to myself. An' each time as I breaks bread, an' sleeps, an' wakes, an' looks arter faither's clothes I feels 'tis wan time nigher the last.
She must depart, according to his direction, on the following day; for the thatched cottage upon the cliff could be her home no more. "Theer weern't no time for talkin'; but I lay 'er'll sing differ'nt when next ashore. You bide quiet here till 'er's home agin. 'Tain't nachur to bid's awn flaish an' blood go its ways like that. An', 'pears to me, as 'tedn' the law neither.
'Twas a match o' Michael Tregenza's makin', I reckon, an', so like's not, Joe weern't any more heart-struck than Joan. I finds it hard to feel as I ought to Gray Michael, more shame to me. But Joan's failed in love wi' a gen'leman, an' he with her, an' he'm comin' any mornin' to fetch 'er an' an' you must be tawld 'tis time as he did come.
His suspicious nature took fright and Tarrant's dark, bright eyes seemed to read his secret and search his soul. "Yes, a portrait of Joan Tregenza was painted here last spring, but not by a Newlyn man. How does that interest you?" "Awnly sideways. 'Tedn' nothin' to me. I knaws the parties an' wanted to see the picksher if theer weern't no objection."
'Tis true, anyway. I shouldn't have failed in love wi' her if she'd been cleverer'n me." "Or she with you, perhaps?" "P'r'aps not. Anyway as it stands we'm halves of a whole: made for man and wife. I reckon I weern't wan to miss my way in love like some poor fules, as wastes it wheer they might see't wasn't wanted if they'd got eyes in their heads." "What it is to be so wise!"
They teach me the force o' keepin' my mouth shut; an' much mixin' wi' other folks arter the silence o' the stones 'mazes me men an' wummen do chatter so." "An' so did you, lassie, an' weern't none the worse. Us doan't hear your purty voice enough now." "'Tis better thinkin' than talkin', Uncle Thomas. I abbun nort to talk 'bout, you see, but a power o' things to think of.
Vogwell gazed sternly about him, then fixed his little bright eyes on the culprit. "What do this mean, Will Blanchard?" "Well, why not? Duchy steals all the gude land from Venwell men; why for shouldn't us taake a little of the bad? This here weern't no gude to man or mouse. Ban't 'nough green stuff for a rabbit 'pon it. So I just thought I'd give it a lick an' a promise o' more later on."
In hell ragin', roastin' hell screechin', I lay, like a cat in a bonfire. 'Tis lies they'll tell 'e 'bout her. She weern't drownded never. The devil set sail 'pon auld Chirgwin's hayrick, so they sez, an' her sailed 'long wi' en. But 'theer rings, they was so high that they was dreadful, an' theer rings weer full o' eyes round about. She'm damned, my son called, not chosen.
But she weern't, an' this mornin' we doan't see a atom of her, but finds a envelope empty 'pon the kitchen floor. 'Twas addressed to Joan an' comed from Lunnon." "Aw jimmery! She've gone to en arter all, then an' in her state." "The floods was out, you see.
"She'll never knaw nothin' 'bout it, gude or bad. They doan't vex her ears wi' trifles. I deserted, an' that's a crime." "I say 't weern't no such thing. You had to choose between that an' letting me die. You saved my life; an' the facts would be judged the same by any as was wife an' mother, high or low.
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