Tregenza. Indeed, the more she speculated upon it the
sadder it appeared.
Meanwhile Joan, leaving Newlyn and turning inland along the little lane
which has St. Peter's church and the Newlyn brook upon its right, escaped
the wind and found herself walking through an emerald woodland world all
wrapped in haze and rain. Past the smelting works, where purple smoke made
wonderful color in rising against the young green, over the brook and under
the avenue of great elms went Joan. Her heart ached this morning, and she
thought of yesterday. It seemed as though a hundred years of experience had
passed over her since she knelt by St. Madron's stone altar. She told
herself bitterly how much wiser she was to-day, and, so thinking strange
thoughts, tramped forward over Buryas Bridge, and faced the winding hill
beyond. Then came doubts. Perhaps after all St. Madron had answered her
prayer. Else why the underlying joy that now fringed her sorrows with
happiness?
Drift is a place well named, when seen, as then, gray through sad-colored
curtains of rain on the bare hilltop. But the orchard lands of the coomb
below were fair, and many primroses twinkled in the soaking green of the
tall hedge-banks. Joan splashed along through the mud, and presently a lump
rose in her throat, born of thoughts. It had seemed nothing to leave the
nest on the cliff, and she held her head high and thanked God for a great
deliverance.
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