No sacrifice could be too great for Art, and
Barron, who was now awake and alive for an achievement, would, according to
his rule, count nothing hard, nothing impossible that might add a grain of
value to the work. His own skill and Joan's beauty were brought in contact
and he meant to do everything a man might do to make the result immortal.
But the human instruments necessary to such work counted for nothing, and
their personal prosperity and welfare would weigh no more with him than the
future of the brushes which he might use, after he had done with them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
UNCLE CHIRGWIN
Joan's first announcement upon the following morning was a regret that the
sitting must be short.
"We'm mighty busy, come wan thing an' another," she said. "Mother's gwaine
to Penzance wi' my brother to buy his seafarin' kit; and Uncle Chirgwin, as
keeps a farm up Drift, be comin' to dinner, which he ain't done this long
time; an' faither may by chance be home tu, so like as not, for the first
bwoats be tackin' back from the islands a'ready."
"You shall stop just as short a time as you choose, Joan. It was very good
of you to come at all under these circumstances," declared the artist.
"Us be fine an' busy when uncle comes down-long, an' partickler this time,
'cause theer've bin a differ'nce of 'pinion 'bout--'bout a matter betwixt
him and faither, but now he's wrote through the post to say as he'm comin',
so 'tis all right, I s'pose, an' us'll have to give en a good dinner
anyways.
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