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Updated: May 9, 2025
Then she rose suddenly to her feet and expression came to her face a very wonderful expression wherein were blended fear, awe, and something of vague but violent joy as though one suddenly beheld a loved ghost from the dead. "'T is as if all of un weern't quite lost! A li'l left a cheel of his! Wummon! You'm a holy thing to me a holy thing evermore!
The most awnself man feels it more or less, an' gets shook out of his shell. You'll knaw some day. Of course I speaks as wan auld in love an' married into the bargain." Awnself=selfish. "You speak from experience, I know. And is Phoebe as wise as you, Will?" "Waitin' be harder for a wummon. They've less to busy the mind, an' less mind to busy, for that matter." "That's ungallant." "I doan't knaw.
He held up his hand, struggled with his vocal organs and at last exploded these words, sudden, tremulous, and shrill: "I deny it an' I defy it! The wummon be mine!" Mr. Lezzard succumbed instantly after this effort. Indeed, he went down as though shot through the head. He wagged and gasped and whispered to his grandson, "Wheer's the brandy to?"
"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.
"If 'twas any smaller thing I'd listen to 'e, Mary, for I knaw you to be a wise, strong wummon; but theer ban't no mistakin' the message I got down-long when they told me what's fallen 'pon Joan Tregenza. No fay; my way be clear afore me; an' the angel o' God will lead my footsteps nearer an' nearer till I faace the man. "You've got a gashly, bloody-minded fit on you along of all your troubles.
When all's said, us knaws the Lard Hissel weer mighty easy wi' the like o' she, an' worser wenches tu. But Michael God A'mighty knaws he won't be easy. She'm a damned wummon, I s'pose, but she's got to live through 'er life here damned or saved; an' she's got a thousand pound to do't with. A terrible braave dollop o' money, sure 'nough.
He don't mean never to look 'pon my faace agin, nor me 'pon his. The cottage edn' no home for me no more." "Joan, gal alive! what talk be this?" "'Tis gospel. I'm a damned wummon, 'cordin' to my faither as was." "God A'mighty! You paart a Chirgwin as comed, o' wan side, from her as loved the Lard so dear, an', 'pon t'other, from him as feared un so much. Never, Joan!"
Dedn' I tell 'e, wummon, 'tweern't so? The devil took her body an' bones an' unborn baaby. They say she was found by the meadowsweets; an' I say 'tis false. You may groan an' you may weep blood, but you caan't chaange the things that have happened in time past no; nor more can God A'mighty." His wife looked to see how Joe viewed this statement. Mrs.
An' his black heart happy an' content 'cause he've sent this filth. You stare, wi' your mother's eyes you stare, an' stare. Hell's yawning for 'e, wretched wummon, an' for him as brot 'e to it!" "He doan't believe in hell, no more doan't I," said Joan calmly; "an' it ban't a faither's plaace to damn's awn flaish an' blood no way." "Never name me thy faither no more!
"'Tis the Lard's doin', mother; an' the lil bwoy's better off now." "Take it calm, my poor good creature." "Try an' bring tears to your eyes, theer's a dear wummon." Tears finally came to her relief, and she wept and moaned while friends supported her, looking with wonder upon Michael, her husband. He stood aloof with the men about him. But never a word he spoke to his wife or any other.
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