They had
not seen each other since the time when Joe Noy flung over Mary for Joan;
and the latter, remembering this circumstance very well, had hoped she
might escape from meeting her cousin until after some talk with Uncle
Thomas. But Mary hid her emotion from Joan's sight, and they shook hands
and looked into one another's faces, each noting marked changes there since
the last occasion of their meeting. The elder spoke first, and went
straight to the past. It was her nature to have every connection and
concern of life upon a definite and clear understanding. She hated mystery,
she disliked things hidden, she never allowed the relations between herself
and any living being to stand otherwise than absolutely defined.
"You'm come, Joan, at last, though 'twas a soft day to choose. Listen
to me, will 'e? Then us can let the past lie, same as us lets sleepin'
dogs. I called 'pon God to blight your life, Joan Tregenza, when--you
knaw. I thot I weer gwaine to die, an' I read the cussin' psalm
[Footnote: _The Cursing Psalm--Psalm CIX_. If read by a wronged person
before death, it was, and is sometimes yet, supposed to bring
punishment upon the evil-doer.] agin you. 'Feared to me as you'd
stawl the awnly thing as ever brot a bit o' brightness to my life. But
that's all over. Love weern't for me; I awnly dreamed it weer. An' I
larned better an' didn't die; an' prayed to God a many times to
forgive that first prayer agin you.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246