I be Nature's cheel now; an' I be in kindly hands. You
caan't understand that, but I knaws what I knaws through bein' taught.
Good-by to 'e. Maybe us'll see each other bimebye."
Joan held out her hand and Mrs. Tregenza shook it. Then she stood and
watched her stepdaughter walk away into Newlyn. The day was cold and
unpleasant, with high winds and driving mists. The village looked grayer
than usual; the boats were nearly all away; the gulls fluttered in the
harbor making their eternal music. Seaward, white horses flecked the leaden
water; a steamer hooted hoarsely, looming large under the low, sullen sky,
as it came between the pierheads. Presently a scat of heavy rain on a
squall of wind shut out the harbor for a time. Mrs. Tregenza waited until
Joan had disappeared, then went back to her kitchen, closed the door, sat
in Gray Michael's great chair by the hearth, put her apron over her head
and wept. But the exact reason for her tears she could not have explained,
for she did not know it. Mingled emotions possessed her. Disappointment had
something to do with this present grief; sorrow for Joan was also
responsible for it in a measure. That the girl should have asked her to
kiss Tom was good, Thomasin thought, and the reflection moved her to
further tears; while that Joan was going to put her money into the keeping
of a simple old fool like Uncle Chirgwin seemed a highly pathetic
circumstance to Mrs.
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