Nobody else can. Why, the gorse there will grumble next and think I
love my poor, daubed burlesque of its gold better than the thing itself. If
I find pleasure in the picture, how much the more must I love the soul of
it? You see, I'm ambitious. You are quite the hardest thing I ever found to
paint, and so I go on trying and trying. Hard to win and hard to paint,
Joan."
She stretched out her hands to him and shook her head.
"Not hard to win, Jan. Easy enough to win to you. I ne'er seed the likes o'
you in my small world. Not hard to win I wasn't."
"You won't refuse me a few more sittings, then, because you have become my
precious wife?"
"In coorse not. An' I'm so sorry I was cranky. I 'dedn' mean what I said
ezacally."
To-day, coming fresh to his ear after a week's interval, after several days
spent with cultured friends and acquaintances in Newlyn, Joan's rustic
speech grated more painfully than usual. Once he had found pleasure in it;
but he was not a Cornishman to love the sound of those venerable words
which sprinkled Joan's utterances and which have long since vanished from
all vocabularies save those of the common people; and now her language
began to get upon his nerves and jar them. He was tired of it. Often, while
he painted, she had prattled and he, occupied with his work, had heard
nothing; but to-day he recognized the debt he owed and listened patiently
for a considerable time.
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