"
"I want no pardon," she said. "I have done no wrong, I tell 'e. Wheer's
justice to? 'Cause the man do bide away, I be wicked; if he comed back
to-morrer an' married me--what then? I be sinless in the matter of it, an'
Nature do knaw it, an' God do knaw it."
But her breast heaved and her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Uncle
Chirgwin, her solitary trust and stand-by, had drifted away too. His hope
was dead and she could not revive it. He had never spoken so strongly
before, but now he was taking up Mary's line of action and had ranged
himself against her. It almost seemed to Joan that he reflected in a meek,
diluted fashion, as the moon turns the sun's golden fire to silver,
something of what he must have heard that afternoon from her father. This
defection acted definitely on the girl's temperament. She fought fear,
hardened her heart against doubt, cast suspicion far away as treason to
"Mister Jan" and gave to hope a new lease of life. She would be patient for
his sake, she would trust in him still.
There was something grand in the loneliness, she told herself. He would
know perhaps one day of her great patient faith and love. And the trial
would make her brain and heart bigger and better fit her for the position
of wife to him. The struggle was fought by her with that courage which lies
beyond man's comprehension. She looked at the world with bright eyes when
there was necessity for facing it; she exhausted her ingenuity in schemes
for communicating with John Barron.
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