I'm a damned wummon, 'cordin' to my faither as was."
"God A'mighty! You--paart a Chirgwin--as comed, o' wan side, from her as
loved the Lard so dear, an', 'pon t'other, from him as feared un so much.
Never, Joan!"
"Uncle Thomas, I be in the fam'ly way; an' faither's damned me, an'
likewise the man as loves me, an' the cheel I be gwaine to bring in the
world. I've comed to hear you speak. Will you say the same? If you will,
I'll pack off this instant moment."
The old man stood perfectly still and his jaw went down while he breathed
heavily; a world of amazement and piteous sorrow sat upon his face; his
voice shook and whistled in the sound as he answered.
"Joan! My poor Joan! My awn gal, this be black news--black news. Thank God
she'm not here to knaw--your mother."
"I've done no wrong, uncle; I ban't 'shamed of it. He'm a true, good man,
and he'm comin' to marry me quick."
"Joe Noy?"
"No, no, not him. I thot I loved en well till Mister Jan comed, an' opened
my blind eyes, an' shawed me what love was. Mister Jan's a gen'leman--a
furriner. He caan't live wi'out me no more; he's said as he caan't. An' I'm
droopin' an' longin' for the sight o' en. An' I caan't bide in the streets,
so I axes you to keep me till Mister Jan do come to fetch me. I find words
hard to use to 'splain things, but his God's differ'nt to what the Luke
Gosp'lers' is, an' I lay 'tis differ'nt to yourn.
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