An' my heart's a
tidy sight lighter now than 'tweer issterday indeed."
"I'm almost afraid to let you go, Joan."
She looked at him curiously, waiting for his bidding, but he seemed moody,
and said no more.
"When be you comin' next?"
"To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow, my pearl above price. It is so
hard, so very hard," he answered. "Fine or wet I shall be here to-morrow,
for I am not going back to Newlyn again till my work is done. Three more
sittings, Joan, if you have enough patience--"
"In coorse, Mister Jan."
She did not explain to him what difficulties daily grew in the way of her
coming, how rumor was alive, and how her stepmother had threatened more
than once to tell Gray Michael that his wayward daughter was growing a
gadabout. Joan had explained away her roaming with a variety of more or
less ingenious lies, and she always found her brain startlingly fertile
where the artist and his picture were concerned. She felt little doubt that
three more visits to Gorse Point might be achieved--ay, and thirty more if
necessary. But afterward? What would follow the painting of the picture?
She asked herself the question as he kissed her, with a kiss that was
almost rough, while he bid her go quickly; and the former reply to every
doubt made answer. Her fears fled as usual before the invigorating
spectacle of this sterling, truth-loving man. With him all the future
remained and with him only.
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