Her anxieties were
forgotten for a few moments at sight of the well-known outlines of the
hills above the village. Now arrish-mows--little thatched stacks some eight
feet high--glimmered in the pale gilded stubbles of the fields; the
orchards gleamed with promise; the foliage of the elms was at its darkest
before the golden dawn of autumn. Well-remembered sights rose on Joan's
misty eyes with the music proper to them; then came the smell of the sea
and the jolting of the cart, going slowly over rough stones. Narrow, steep
streets and sharp corners had to be traversed not only with caution but at
a speed which easily placed Joan within the focus of many glances. Troubles
and humiliation of a sort wholly unexpected burst suddenly upon her,
bringing the girl's mind rudely back from dreams born of the familiar
scene. Newlyn women bobbed about their cottage doors with hum and stir, and
every gossip's mouth was full of news at this entry. Doors and windows
filled with curious heads and bright eyes; there was some laughter in the
air; fishermen got up with sidelong looks from the old masts or low walls
whereon, during hours of leisure, they sat in rows and smoked. Joan, all
aflame, prayed Uncle Chirgwin to hasten, which he did to the best of his
power; but their progress was of necessity slow, and local curiosity
enjoyed full scope and play. Tears came to the girl's eyes long before the
village was traversed; then, through a mist of them, she saw a hand
stretched to meet her own and heard a voice which rang kindly on her ears.
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