"
Two minutes later Mr. Bartlett followed his master, but Uncle Chirgwin had
taken a considerable start of him. The old man was terribly shocked to hear
the news, for he had clung to a theory that Joan was long since in London.
Dread and fear came over him. The thought of facing this particular corpse
was more than he could contemplate with self-control. A great nervous
terror mingled with his grief. He wished to avoid the return from the
valley, and the first excuse for so doing which came to his mind he
hurriedly acted upon. He declared it essential that the Tregenzas should be
told instantly, and hastened away before Mary could argue with him. Only
that morning they had heard of Gray Michael's condition, but Uncle Chirgwin
forgot it when the blasting news of his niece's death fell upon him. He
hurried snuffling and weeping along as fast as his legs would bear him, and
not until he stood at their cottage door did he recollect the calamities
which had overtaken the fisherman and those of his household.
Uncle Chirgwin began to speak hastily the moment Mrs. Tregenza opened the
door. He choked and gurgled over his news.
"She'm dead--Joan. They've found her in the brook as the waters went down.
Drownded theer--the awnly sunshine as ever smiled at Drift. Oh, my good
God!--'tis a miz-maze to drive us all out of our senses. An' you, mother
--my dear, dear sawl, my heart bleeds for 'e.
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