The long, dreary nightmare had ended for her at
last. Then came tears of bitter remorse, for she saw how his love had
never left her, how he had been true as steel, while she, misled by
appearances, had lost faith and lapsed into forgetfulness. A wild,
unreasoning yearning superior to time and space and the service of railways
got hold upon her. "Come to me," "Come to me," sounded in Joan's ears in
the live voice she had loved and lost and found again. An hour's delay, a
minute's, a moment's seemed a crime. Yet delay there must be, but the
tension and terrific excitement of her whole being at this period demanded
some immediate outlet in action. She wanted to talk to Uncle Chirgwin, and
she desired instant information upon the subject of her journey. First she
thought of seeking the farmer in the valley; then it struck her, the hour
being not later than eight o'clock, that by going into Penzance she might
learn at what time the morning train departed to London.
Out of doors it was inky black, very silent, very oppressive. Joan called
Mary twice before departing, but received no answer. Indeed the house was
empty, though she did not know it. Finally, thrusting the letter into her
bosom, taking her hat and cloak from a nail in the kitchen and putting on a
pair of walking shoes, the girl went abroad. Her present medley of thoughts
begot a state of exceeding nervous excitation.
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