The first sunshine of the day seemed to have
found him out. It shone over his round red face and twinkled in the dew on
his white whiskers. He stumped along upon short, gaitered legs, but went
not fast, and stayed at the steep shoulder of the hill that his lambs might
have rest and time to suck.
Mary Chirgwin meantime speculated on this sudden mystery of her cousin's
arrival. She spread the cloth for dinner, bid her maid lay another place
for Joan and wondered much what manner of news she brought. There were
changes in Joan's face since she saw it last--not changes which might have
been attributed to the possession of Joe Noy, but an alteration of
expression betokening thought, a look of increased age, of experiences not
wholly happy in their nature.
And Joan had also marked the changes in Mary. These indications were clear
enough and filled her with sorrow. A river of tears will leave its bed
marked upon a woman's face; and Joan, who had never thought overmuch of her
cousin's sorrows until then, began to feel her heart fill and run over with
sudden sympathy. She asked herself what life would look like for her if
"Mister Jan"; changed his mind now and never came back again. That was how
Mary felt doubtless when Joe Noy left her. Already Joan grew zealous in
thought for Mary. She would teach her something of that sweet wisdom which
was to support her own burden in the future; she would tell her about
Nature--the "All-Mother" as "Mister Jan" called her once.
Pages:
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248