LYING PROPHETS  A NOVEL  BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS  Author of " Down Dartmoor Way , " " Some Everyday Folks " " The End of a Life , " etc.  " 'Tis like this : your man did take plain Nature for God , an ' he did talk fulishness 'bout finding Him in the scent o 'flowers , the hum o 'bees an ' sichlike .  Mayhap Nature 'sa gude working God for a selfish man but she ed'n wan for a maid , as you knaws by now .  Then your faither — his God do sit everlastingly alongside hell-mouth , an ' do laugh an ' girn to see all the world a walkin 'in , same as the beasts walked in the Ark. Theer 'sanother picksher of a God for ' e ; but mark this , gal , they be lying prophets — lying prophets both !  " — Book II .  , Chapter XI .  BOOK ONE  ART  CHAPTER ONE  NEWLYN  Away beyond the village stands a white cottage with the sea lapping at low cliffs beneath it .  Plum and apple orchards slope upward behind this building , and already , upon the former trees , there trembles a snowy gauze where blossom buds are breaking .  Higher yet , dark plowed fields , with hedges whereon grow straight elms , cover the undulations of a great hill even to its windy crest , and below , at the water line , lies Newlyn — a village of gray stone and blue , with slate roofs now shining silver-bright under morning sunlight and easterly wind .  Smoke softens every outline ; red-brick walls and tanned sails bring warmth and color through the blue vapor of many chimneys ; a sun-flash glitters at this point and that , denoting here a conservatory , there a studio .  Enter this hive and you shall find a network of narrow stone streets ; a flutter of flannel underwear , or blue stockings , and tawny garments drying upon lines ; little windows , some with rows of oranges and ginger-beer bottles in them ; little shops ; little doors , at which cluster little children and many cats , the latter mostly tortoise-shell and white .  Infants watch their elders playing marbles in the roadway , and the cats stretch lazy bodies on the mats , made of old fishing-net , which lie at every cottage door .  Newlyn stands on slight elevations above the sea level , and at one point the road bends downward , breaks and fringes the tide , leading among broken iron , rusty anchors , and dismantled fishing-boats , past an ancient buoy whose sides now serve the purposes of advertisement and tell of prayer-meetings , cheap tea , and so forth .  Hard by , the mighty blocks of the old breakwater stand , their fabric dating from the reign of James I .  , and taking the place of one still older .  But the old breakwater is no more than a rialto for ancient gossips now ; and far beyond it new piers stretch encircling arms of granite round a new harbor , southward of which the lighthouse stands and winks his sleepless golden eye from dusk to dawn .  Within this harbor , when the fishing fleet is at home , lie jungles of stout masts , row upon row , with here and there a sail , carrying on the color of the plowed fields above the village , and elsewhere , scraps of flaming bunting flashing like flowers in a reed bed .  Behind the masts , along the barbican , the cottages stand close and thick , then clamber and straggle up the acclivities behind , decreasing in their numbers as they ascend .  Smoke trails inland on the wind — black as a thin crepe veil , from the funnel of a coal " tramp " about to leave the harbor , blue from the dry wood burning on a hundred cottage hearths .  A smell of fish — where great split pollocks hang drying in the sun — of tar and tan and twine — where nets and cordage lie spread upon low walls and open spaces — gives to Newlyn an odor all its own ; but aloft , above the village air , spring is dancing , sweet-scented , light-footed in the hedgerows , through the woods and on the wild moors which stretch inland away .  There the gold of the gorse flames in many a sudden sheet and splash over the wastes whereon last year 'sling-bloom , all sere and gray , makes a sad-colored world .  But the season 'schange is coming fast .  Celandines twinkle everywhere , and primroses , more tardy and more coy , already open wondering eyes .  The sea lies smooth with a surface just wind-kissed and strewed with a glory of sun-stars .  Away to the east , at a point from which brown hills , dotted with white dwellings , tend in long undulations to the cliffs of the Lizard , under fair clouds all banked and sunny white against the blue , rises St. Michael 'sMount , with a man 'slittle castle capping Nature 'sgaunt escarpments and rugged walls .  Between Marazion and Newlyn stretches Mount 'sBay ; while a mile or two of flat sea-front , over which , like a string of pearls , roll steam clouds , from a train , bring us to Penzance .  Then — noting centers of industry where freezing works rise and smelting of ore occupies many men ( for Newlyn labors at the two extremes of fire and ice ) — we are back in the fishing village again and upon the winding road which leads therefrom , first to Penlee Point and the blue-stone quarry , anon to the little hamlet of Mousehole beyond .  Beside this road lay our white cottage , with the sunshine lighting up a piece of new golden thatch let into the old gray , and the plum-trees behind it bursting into new-born foam of flowers .  Just outside it , above the low cliff , stood two men looking down into the water , seen dark green below through a tangle of brier and blackthorn and emerald foliage of budding elder .  The sea served base uses here , for the dust and dirt of many a cottage was daily cast into the lap of the great scavenger who carried all away .  The low cliffs were indeed spattered with filth , and the coltsfoot , already opening yellow blossoms below , found itself rudely saluted with cinders and potato-peelings , fishes 'entrails , and suchlike unlovely matter .  The men were watching a white fleet of bird boats paddling on the sea , hurrying this way and that , struggling — with many a plunge and flutter and plaintive cry — for the food a retreating tide was bearing from the shore .  " ' White spirits and gray , ' I call them , " said the younger of the two spectators .  " The gulls fascinate me always .  They are beautiful to see and hear and paint .  Swimming there , and wheeling between the seas in rough weather , or hanging almost motionless in midair with their heads turning first this way , then that , and their breasts pressed against the wind — why , they are perfect always , the little winged gods of the sea .  "  " Gods kissing carrion , " sneered the other .  " Beautiful enough , no doubt , but their music holds no charm for me .  Nothing is quite beautiful which has for its cause something ugly .  Those echoing cries down there are the expression of a greedy struggle , no more .  I hate your Newlyn gulls .  They are ruined , like a thousand other wild things , by civilization .  I see them scouring the fields and hopping after the plowman like upland crows .  A Cornish seabird should fight its battle with the sea and find its home in the heart of the dizzy cliffs , sharing them with the samphire .  But your ' white spirits and gray 'behave like gutter-fed ducks .  "  The first speaker laughed and both strolled upon their way .  They were artists , but while Edmund Murdoch dwelt at Newlyn and lived by his profession , the older man , John Barron , was merely on a visit to the place .  He had come down for change and with no particular intention to work .  Barron was wealthy and wasted rare talents .  He did not paint much , and the few who knew his pictures deplored the fact that no temporal inducement called upon him to handle his brush oftener .  A few excused him on the plea of his health , which was at all times indifferent , but he never excused himself .  It needed something far from the beaten track to inspire him , and inspiration was rare .  But let a subject once grip him and the artist 'slife centered and fastened upon it until his work was done .  He sacrificed everything at such a time ; he slaved ; labor was to him as a debauch to the drunkard , and he wearied body and mind and counted his health nothing while the frenzy held him .  Then , his picture finished , at the cost of the man 'swhole store of nervous energy and skill , he would probably paint no more for many months .  His subject was always some transcript from nature , wrought out with almost brutal vigor and disregard of everything but truth .  His looks belied his work curiously .  A small , slight man he was , with sloping shoulders and the consumptive build .  But the breadth of his head above the ears showed brain , and his gray eyes spoke a strength of purpose upon which a hard , finely-modeled mouth set the seal .  Once he had painted in the West Indies : a picture of two negresses bathing at Tobago .  Behind them hung low tangles of cactus , melo-cactus and white-blossomed orchid ; while on the tawny rocks glimmered snowy cotton splashed with a crimson turban ; but the marvel of the work lay in the figures and the refraction of their brown limbs seen through crystal-clear water .  The picture brought reputation to a man who cared nothing for it ; and Barron 's" Bathing Negresses " are only quoted here because they illustrate his method of work .  He had painted from the sea in a boat moored fore and aft ; he had kept the two women shivering and whining in the water for two hours at a time .  They could not indeed refuse the gold he offered for their services , but one never lived to enjoy the money , for her prolonged ablutions in the cause of art killed her a week after her work was done .  John Barren was a lonely sybarite with a real love for Nature and absolutely primitive instincts with regard to his fellow-creatures .  The Land 'sEnd had disappointed him ; he had found Nature neither grand nor terrific there , but sleepy and tame as a cat after a full meal .  Nor did he derive any pleasure from the society of his craft at Newlyn .  He hated the clatter of art jargon , he flouted all schools , and pointed out what nobody doubts now : that the artists of the Cornish village in reality represented nothing but a community of fellow-workers , all actuated indeed by love of art , but each developing his own bent without thought for his neighbor 'stheory .  Barron indeed made some enemies before he had been in the place a week , and the greater lights liked him none the better for vehemently disclaiming the honor when they told him he was one of themselves .  " The shape of a brush does not make men paint alike , " he said , " else we were all equal and should only differ in color .  Some of you can no more paint with a square brush than you can with a knife .  Some of you could not paint though your palettes were set with Nature 'sown sunset colors .  And others of you , if you had a rabbit 'sscut at the end of a hop-pole and the gray mud from a rain puddle , would produce work worth considering .  You are a community of painters — some clever , some hopeless — but you are not a school , and you may thank God for it .  "  John Barron was rough tonic , but the fearless little man generally found an audience at the end of the day in this studio or that .  The truth of much that he said appealed to the lofty-minded and serious ; his dry cynicism , savage dislike of civilization , and frank affection for Nature , attracted others .  He hit hard , but he never resented rough knocks in return , and no man had seen him out of temper with anything but mysticism and the art bred therefrom .  Upon the whole , however , his materialism annoyed more than his wit amused .  Upon the evening which followed his insult to the Newlyn gulls , Barron , with Edmund Murdoch and some other men , was talking in the studio of one Brady , known to fame as the " Wrecker , " from his love for the artistic representation of maritime disaster .  Barron liked this man , for he was outspoken and held vigorous views , but the two quarreled freely .  " Fate was a fool when she chucked her presents into the lap of a lazy beggar like you , " said Brady , addressing the visitor .  " And thrice a fool , " he added , " to assort her gifts so ill. "  " Fate is a knave , a mad thing playing at cat 'scradle with the threads of our wretched little lives , " answered John Barron , " she is a coward — a bully .  She hits the hungry below the belt ; she heaps gold into the lap of the old man , but not till he has already dug his own grave to come at it ; she gives health to those who must needs waste all their splendid strength on work ; and wealth to worthless beings like myself who are always ailing and who never spend a pound with wisdom .  Make no dark cryptic mystery of Fate when you paint her .  She looks to me like a mischievous monkey poking sticks into an ant-hill .  "  " She 'sa woman , " said Murdoch .  " She 'sthree , " corrected Brady ; " what can you expect from three women rolled into one ?  "  " Away with her !  Waste no incense at her shrine .  She 'llcut the thread no sooner because you turn your back on her .  Fling overboard your mythologies , dead and alive , and kneel to Nature .  A budding spike of wild hyacinth is worth all the gods put together .  Go hand in hand with Nature , I say .  Ask nothing from her ; walk humbly ; be well content if she lets you but turn the corner of one page none else have read .  That 'show I live .  My life is not a prayer exactly — "  " I should say not , " interrupted Brady .  " But a hymn of praise — a purely impersonal existence , lived all alone , like a man at a prison window .  This carcass , with its shaky machinery and defective breathing apparatus , is the prison .  I look out of the window till the walls crumble away — "  " And then ?  " asked one Paul Tarrant , a painter who prided himself on being a Christian as well .  " Then , the spark which I call myself , goes back to Nature , as the cloud gives the raindrop back to the sea from whence the sun drew it .  "  " A lie , man !  " answered the other hotly .  " Perhaps .  It matters nothing .  God — if there be a God — will not blame me for making a mistake .  Meantime I live like the rook and the thrush .  They never pray , they praise , they sing ' grace before meat 'and after it , as Nature taught them .  "  " A simple child of Nature — beautiful spectacle , " said Brady .  " But I 'msorry all the same , " he continued , " that you 'vefound nothing in Cornwall to keep you here and make you do some work .  You talk an awful deal of rot , but we want to see you paint .  Is n't there anything or anybody worthy of you here ?  "  " As a matter of face , I 'vefound a girl , " said Barron .  There was a clamor of excitement at this news , above which Brady 'sbull voice roared approval .  " Proud girl , proud parents , proud Newlyn !  " he bellowed .  " The mood ripens too , " continued Barren quietly .  " ' Sacrifice all the world to mood 'is my motto .  So I shall stop and paint .  "  A moment later derisive laughter greeted Barron 'sdecision , for Murdoch , in answer to a hail of questions , announced the subject of his friend 'sinspiration .  " We strolled round this morning and saw Joan Tregenza in an iron hoop with a pail of water slung at either hand .  "  " So your picture begins and ends where it is , Barron , my friend ; in your imagination .  Did it strike you when you first saw that vision of loveliness in dirty drab that she was hardly the girl to have gone unpainted till now ?  " asked Brady .  " The possibility of previous pictures is hardly likely to weigh with me .  Why , I would paint a drowned sailor if the subject attracted me , and that though you have done it , " answered the other , nodding toward a big canvas in the corner , where Brady 'spicture for the year approached completion .  " My dear chap , we all worship Joan — at a distance .  She is not to be painted .  Tears and prayers are useless .  She has a flinty father — a fisherman , who looks upon painting as a snare of the devil and sees every artist already wriggling on the trident in his mind 'seye .  Joan has also a lover , who would rather behold her dead than on canvas .  "  " In fact these Methodist folk take us to be what you really are , " said Brady bluntly .  " Old Tregenza tars us every one with the same brush .  We are lost sinners all .  "  " Well , why trouble him ?  A fisherman would have his business on the sea .  Candidly , I must paint her .  The wish grows upon me .  "  " Even money you do n't get as much as a sketch , " said Murdoch .  " Have any of you tried approaching her directly , instead of her relations ?  "  " She 'sas shy as a hawk , man .  "  " That makes me the more hopeful .  You fellows , with your Tam o 'Shanters and aggressive neckties and knickerbockers and calves , would frighten the devil .  I 'mshy myself .  If she 'snatural , then we shall possibly understand each other .  "  " I 'llbet you ten to one in pounds you wo n't have your wish , " said Brady .  " No , sha n't bet .  You 'reall so certain .  Probably I shall find myself beaten like the rest of you .  But it 'sworth trying .  She 'sa pretty thing .  "  " How will you paint her if you get the chance ?  "  " Do n't know yet .  I should like to paint her in a wolf-skin with a thread of wolf 'steeth round her neck and a celt-headed spear in her hand .  "  " Art will be a loser by the pending repulse , " declared Brady .  " And now , as my whisky-bottle 'sempty and my lamp going out , you chaps can follow its example whenever you please .  "  So the men scattered into a starry night , and went , each his way , through the streets of the sleeping village .  CHAPTER TWO  IN A HALO OF GOLD  Edmund Murdoch 'sstudio stood high on Newlyn hill , and Barron had taken comfortable rooms in a little lodging-house close beside it .  The men often enjoyed breakfast in each other 'scompany , but on the following morning , when Murdoch strolled over to see his friend , he found that his rooms were empty .  Barron , in fact , was already nearly a mile from Newlyn , and , at the moment when the younger artist sought him , he stood upon a footpath which ran through plowed fields to the village of Paul .  In the bottom of his mind ran a current of thought occupied with the problem of Joan Tregenza , but , superficially , he was concerned with the spring world in which he walked .  He stood where Nature , like Artemis , appeared as a mother of many breasts .  Brown and solemn in their undulations , they rose about and around him to the sky-line , where the land cut sharply against a pale blue heaven from which tinkled the music of larks .  He watched a bird wind upward in a spiral to its song throne ; he noted the young wheat brushing the earth with a veil of green ; he dawdled where elms stood , their high tops thick with blossom ; and he delayed for full fifteen minutes to see the felling of one giant tree .  A wedge-shaped cut had been made upon the side where the great elm was to fall , and , upon the other side , two men were sawing through the trunk .  There was no sound but the steady hiss of steel teeth gnawing inch by inch to the wine-red heart of the tree .  Sunshine glimmered on its leafy crown , and as yet distant branch and bough knew nothing of the midgets and Death below .  Barron took pleasure in seeing the great god Change at work , but he mourned in that a masterpiece , on which Nature had bestowed half a century and more of love , must now vanish .  " A pity , " he said , while the executioners rested a few moments from their labors , " a pity to cut down such a noble tree .  "  One woodman laughed , and the other — an old rustic , brown and bent — made answer :  " I sez ' dang the tree !  ' Us doa n't take no joy in thrawin 'en , mister .  I be bedoled wi 'pain , an 'this ' ere sawin 'sjust food for rheumatiz .  My back 'sthat bad .  But Squire must ' ave money , an ' theer 'sfive hundred pounds 'value o 'ellum comin ' down ' fore us done wi 'it .  "  The saw won its way ; and between each spell of labor , the ancient man held his back and grumbled .  " Er 'sBilly Jago , " confided the second laborer to Barron , when his companion had turned aside to get some steel wedges and a sledge-hammer .  " Er 'swell-knawn in these paarts — a reg'lar cure .  Er used tu work up Drift wi 'Mister Chirgwin .  "  Billy added two wedges to those already hammered into the saw-cut , then , with the sledge , he drove them home and finished his task .  The sorrowful strokes rang hollow and mournful over the land , sadder to Barron 'sear than fall of earth-clod on coffin-lid .  And , upon the sound , a responsive shiver and uneasy tremor ran through trunk and bough to topmost twig of the elm — a sudden sense , as it seemed , of awful evil and ruin undreamed of , but now imminent .  Then the monster staggered and the midget struck his last blow and removed himself and his rheumatism .  Whereupon began that magnificent descent .  Slowly , with infinitely solemn sweep , the elm 'svast height swung away from its place , described a wide aerial arc , and so , with the jolting crash and rattle of close thunder , roared headlong to the earth , casting up a cloud of dust , plowing the grass with splintered limbs , then lying very still .  From glorious tree to battered log it sank .  No man ever saw more instant wreck and ruin fall lightning-like on a fair thing .  The mass was crushed flat and shapeless by its own vast weight , and the larger boughs , which did not touch the earth , were snapped short off by the concussion of their fall .  Billy Jago held his back and whined while Barron spoke , as much to himself as the woodman .  " Dear God !  " he said , " to think that this glory of the hedge-row — this kingdom of song birds — should come to the making of pauper coffins and lodging-house furniture !  "  " Squire must have money ; an ' folks must have coffins , " said Billy .  " You can sleep your last sleep so sound in ellum as you can in oak , for that matter .  "  Feeling the truth of the assertion , Barron admitted it , then turned his back on the fallen king and pursued his way with thoughts reverting to the proposed picture .  There was nothing to alarm Joan Tregenza about him ; which seemed well , as he meant to approach the girl herself at the first opportunity , and not her parents .  Barron did not carry " artist " stamped upon him .  He was plainly attired in a thick tweed suit and wore a cap of the same material .  The man appeared insignificantly small .  He was clean-shaved and looked younger than his five-and-thirty years seen a short distance off , but older when you stood beside him .  He strolled now onward toward the sea , and his cheeks took some color from the fine air .  He walked with a stick and carried a pair of field-glasses in a case slung over his shoulder .  The field-glasses had become a habit with him , but he rarely used them , for his small slate-colored eyes were keen .  Once and again John Barron turned to look at St. Michael 'sMount , seen afar across the bay .  The magic of morning made it beautiful and the great pile towered grandly through a sunny haze .  No detail disturbed the eye under this effect of light , and the mount stood vast , dim , golden , magnified and glorified into a fairy palace of romance built by immortal things in a night .  Seen thus , it even challenged the beholder 'sadmiration , of which he was at all times sparing .  Until that hour , he had found nothing but laughter for this same mount , likening the spectacle of it , with its castle and cottages , now to a senile monarch with moth-eaten ermine about his toes and a lop-sided crown on his head , now to a monstrous sea-snail creeping shoreward .  Barron , having walked down the hill to Mouse-hole , breasted slowly the steep acclivity which leads therefrom toward the west .  Presently he turned , where a plateau of grass sloped above the cliffs into a little theater of banks ablaze with gorse .  And here his thoughts and the image they were concerned with perished before reality .  Framed in a halo of golden furze , her hands making a little penthouse above her brow , and in her blue eyes the mingled hue of sea and sky , stood a girl looking out at the horizon .  The bud of a wondrous fair woman she was , and Barron saw her slim yet vigorous figure accentuated under its drab-brown draperies by a kindly breeze .  He noted the sweet , childish freshness of her face , her plump arms filling the sleeves of rusty black , and her feet in shoes too big for them .  Her hair was hidden under a linen sun-bonnet , but one lock had escaped , and he noted that it was the color of wheat ripe for the reaping .  He regretted it had not been darker , but observed that it chimed well enough with the flaming flowers behind it .  And then he frankly praised Nature in his heart for sending her servant such a splendid harmony in gold and brown .  There stood his picture in front of him .  He gazed a brief second only , and then his quick mind worked to find what human interest had brought Joan Tregenza to this place and turned her eyes to the sea .  It might be that herein existed the possibility of the introduction he desired .  He felt that victory probably depended on the events of the next two or three minutes .  He owed a supreme effort of skill and tact to Fate , which had thus befriended him , and he rose to the occasion .  The girl looked up as he came suddenly upon her , but his eyes were already away and fixed upon the horizon before she turned .  Observing that he was not regarding her , she put up her hands again and continued to scan the remote sea-line where a thin trail of dark smoke told of a steamer , itself apparently invisible .  Barron took his glasses from their case , and seeing that the girl made no movement of departure , acted deliberately , and presently began to watch a fleet of brown sails and black hulls putting forth from the little harbor below .  Then , without looking at her or taking his eyes from the glasses , he spoke .  " Would you kindly tell me what those small vessels are below there just setting out to sea ?  " he asked .  The girl started , looked round , and , realizing that he had addressed her , made answer :  " They 'mMouzle [ Footnote : Mouzle — Mousehole .  ] luggers , sir .  "  " Luggers , are they ?  Thank you .  And where are they sailing to ?  Do you know ?  "  " Away down-long , south'ard o ' the Scillies mostly , arter mackerl .  Theer 'sa power o 'mackerl bein 'catched just now — thousands an ' thousands — but some o ' they booats be laskin '— that 'sjust fishin 'off shore .  "  " Ah , a busy time for the fishermen .  "  " Iss , ' tis .  "  " Thank you .  Good-morning .  "  " Good-marnin ', sir .  "  He started as though to continue his walk along the cliffs beyond the plateau and the gorse ; then he stopped suddenly , actuated , as it seemed , by a chance thought , and turned back to the girl .  She was looking out to sea again .  " By the way , " he said , unconcernedly , and with no suggestion that anything in particular was responsible for his politeness .  " I see you are on the lookout there for something .  You may have my glass a moment , if you like , before I go on .  They bring the ships very close .  "  The girl flushed with shy pleasure and seemed a little uncertain what to answer .  Barron , meanwhile , showed no trace of a smile , but looked bored if anything , and , with a serious face , handed her the glass , then walked a little way off .  He was grave and courteous , but made no attempt at friendship .  He had noticed when Joan smiled that her teeth were fine , and that her full face , though sweet enough , was a shade too plump .  " Thank ' e kindly , sir , " she said , taking the glass .  " You see theer 'sa gert ship passin ' down Channel , an '— an ' my Joe 'saboard 'er , an ' they 'mbound for furrin 'paarts , an ' I promised as I 'dcome to this here horny-winky [ Footnote : Horny-winky — Lonely .  Fit place for horny-winks .  ] plaace to get a last sight o ' the vessel if I could .  " He made no answer , and , after a pause , she spoke again .  " I caa n't see naught , but that 'smy fault , p'raps , not bein ' used to sich things .  "  " Let me try and find the ship , " he said , taking the glass , which he had put out of focus purposely .  Then , while scanning the horizon where he had noted the smoke-trail , he spoke , his head turned from her .  " Who 'sJoe , if I may ask ?  Your brother , I daresay ?  "  " No , sir ; Joe 'mmy sweetheart .  "  " There 'sa big three-masted ship being taken down the Channel by a small steamer .  "  " Ah !  then I reckon that 'sthe ' Anna , '' cause Joe said 'twas tolerable certain they 'dbe in tow of a tug .  "  " You can see the smoke on the edge of the sea .  Look below it .  "  He handed the glasses to her again and heard a little laugh of delight break from her lips .  The surprise of the suddenly-magnified spectacle , visible only as a shadow to the naked eye , brought laughter ; and Barron , now that the girl 'sattention was occupied , had leisure to look at her .  She was more than a pretty cottage maid , and possessed some distinction and charm .  There was a delicacy about her too — a sweet turn of lip , a purity of skin , a set of limb — which gave the lie to her rough speech .  She was all Saxon to look at , with nothing of the Celt about her excepting her name and the old Cornish words upon her lips .  Those he rejoiced in , for they showed that she still remained a free thing , primitive , innocent of School Boards , or like frost-biting influences .  Barron took mental notes .  Joan Tregenza was a careless young woman , it seemed .  Her dress had a button or two missing in front , and a safety-pin had taken their place .  Her drab skirt was frayed a little and patched in one corner with a square of another material .  But the colors were well enough , from the artist 'spoint of view .  He noted also that the girl 'sstockings were darned and badly needed further attention , for above her right shoe-heel a white scrap of Joan was visible .  Her hands were a little large , but well shaped ; her pose was free and fine , though the field-glasses spoiled the picture and the sun-bonnet hid the contour of her head .  " So you walked out from Mouzle to see the last of Joe 'sship ?  " he asked , quite seriously and with no light note in his voice .  " From Newlyn .  I ed'n a Mouzle maid , " she answered .  " Is the ' Anna 'coming home again soon ?  "  " No , sir .  Her 'sbound for the Gulf of Californy , round t'other side the world , Joe sez .  He reckons to be back agin 'come winter .  "  " That 'sa long time .  "  " Iss , ' tis .  "  But there was no sentiment about the answer .  Joan gazed without a shadow of emotion at the vanishing ship , and alluded to the duration of her sweetheart 'sabsence in a voice that never trembled .  Then she gave the glass back to Barron with many thanks , and evidently wanted to be gone , but stopped awkwardly , not quite knowing how to depart .  Meanwhile , showing no further cognizance of her , Barron took the glasses himself and looked at the distant ship .  " A splendid vessel , " he said .  " I expect you have a picture of her , have n't you ?  "  " No , " she answered , " but I 'vegot a lil ship Joe cut out o 'wood an ' painted butivul .  Awnly that 'sanother vessel what Joe sailed in afore .  "  " I 'lltell you what I 'lldo , " he said , " because you were good enough to explain all about the fishing-boats .  I 'llmake a tiny picture of the ' Anna 'and paint it and give it to you .  "  But the girl took fright instantly .  " You 'ma artist , then ?  " she said , with alarm in her face and voice .  He shook his head .  " No , no. Do I look like an artist ?  I 'monly a stranger down here for a day or two .  I paint things sometimes for my own amusement , that 'sall .  "  " Pickshers ?  "  " They are not worth calling pictures .  Just scraps of the sea and trees and cliffs and sky , to while away the time and remind me of beautiful things after I have left them .  "  " You ba n't a artist ezacally , then ?  "  " Certainly not .  Do n't you like artists ?  "  " Faither do n't .  He 'ma fisherman an ' caa n't abear many things as happens in the world .  An ' not artists .  Genlemen have arsked him to let ' em take my picksher , ' cause they 'vepainted a good few maidens to Newlyn ; an ' some of ' em wanted to paint faither as well ; but he up an ' sez ' No !  ' short .  Paintin 'svanity 'cordin ' to faither , same as they flags an ' cannels an ' moosic to Newlyn church is vanity .  Most purty things is vanity , faither reckons .  "  " I 'msure he 'sa wise man .  And I think he 'sright , especially about the candles and flags in church .  And now I must go on my walk .  Let me see , shall I bring you the little picture of Joe 'sship here ?  I often walk out this way .  "  He assumed she would take the picture , and now she feared to object .  Moreover , such a sketch would be precious in her eyes .  " Maybe 'tis troublin ' of ' e , sir ?  "  " I 'vepromised you .  I always keep my word .  I shall be here to-morrow about mid-afternoon , because it is lonely and quiet and beautiful .  I 'mgoing to try and paint the gorse , all blazing so brightly against the sky .  "  " Them prickly fuzz-bushes ?  "  " Yes ; because they are very beautiful .  "  " But they 'meverywheres .  You might so well paint the bannel [ Footnote : Bannel — Broom .  ] or the yether on the moors , might n't ' e ?  "  " They are beautiful , too .  Remember , I shall have Joe 'sship for you to-morrow .  "  He nodded without smiling , and turned away until a point of the gorse had hidden her from sight .  Then he sat down , loaded his pipe , and reflected .  " ' Joe 'sship , ' " he said to himself , " a happy title enough .  "  And meantime the girl had looked after him with wonder and some amusement in her eyes , had rubbed her chin reflectively — a habit caught from her father — and had then scampered off smiling to herself .  " What a funny gent , " she thought , " never laughs nor nothin '.  An ' I judged he was a artist !  But wonnerful kind , an ' wonnerful queer , wi 'it , sure 'nough .  "  CHAPTER THREE  THE TREGENZAS  Joan Tregenza lived in a white cottage already mentioned : that standing just beyond Newlyn upon a road above the sea .  The cot was larger than it appeared from the road and extended backward into an orchard of plum and apple-trees .  The kitchen which opened into this garden was stone-paved , cool , comfortable , sweet at all times with the scent of wood smoke , and frequently not innocent of varied fishy odors .  But Newlyn folk suck in a smell of fish with their mothers 'milk .  ' Tis part of the atmosphere of home .  When Joan returned from her visit to Gorse Point , she found a hard-faced woman , thin of figure , with untidy hair , wrinkled brow and sharp features , engaged about a pile of washing in the garden at the kitchen-door .  Mrs. Tregenza heard the girl arrive , and spoke without lifting her little gray eyes from the clothes .  Her voice was hard and high and discontented , like that of one who has long bawled into a deaf man 'sear and is weary of it .  " Drabbit you !  Wheer you bin ?  Allus trapsing out when you 'mwanted ; allus caddlin 'round doin ' nothin ' when you ba n't .  I s'pose you think breakfus 'can be kep ' on the table till dinner , washing-day or no ?  "  " I do n't want no breakfus ', then .  I tuke some bread an ' drippin 'long with me .  Wheer 'sTom to ?  "  " Gone to schule this half-hour .  ' Tis nine o'clock an ' past .  Wheer you bin , I sez ?  ' Tai n't much in your way to rise afore me of a marnin '.  "  " Out through Mouzle to Gorse P'int to see Joe 'sship pass by ; an ' I seen en butivul .  "  " Thank the Lard he 'sgone .  Now , I s'pose , theer 'llbe a bit peace in the house , an ' you 'llbide home an ' work .  My fingers is to the bone day an ' night .  "  " He 'llbe gone a year purty nigh .  "  " Well , the harder you works , the quicker the time 'llpass by .  Theer 'snuthin ' to grizzle at .  Sea-farin 'fellers must be away most times .  But he 'ma good , straight man , an ' you 'mtokened to en , an ' that 'senough .  Bide cheerful an ' get the water for washin '.  If they things of faither 'sbant dry come to-morrer , he 'llknaw the reason why .  "  Joan accepted Mrs. Tregenza 'scomfort philosophically , though her sweetheart 'sdeparture had not really caused her any emotion .  She visited the larder , drank a cup of milk , and then , fetching an iron hoop and buckets , went to a sunken barrel outside the cottage door , into which , from a pipe through the road-bank , tumbled a silver thread of spring water .  Of the Tregenza household a word must needs be spoken .  Joan 'sown mother had died twelve years ago , and the anxious-natured woman who took her place proved herself a good step-parent enough .  Despite a disposition prone to worry and to dwell upon the small tribulations of life , Thomasin Tregenza was not unhappy , for her husband enjoyed prosperity and a reputation for godliness unequaled in Newlyn .  A great , weather-worn , gray , hairy man was he , with a big head and a furrowed cliff of a forehead that looked as though it had been carved by its Creator from Cornish granite .  Tregenza indeed might have stood for a typical Cornish fisher — or a Breton .  Like enough , indeed , he had old Armorican blood in his veins , for many hundreds of Britons betook themselves to ancient Brittany when the Saxon invasion swept the West , and many afterward returned , with foreign wives , to the homes of their fathers .  Michael Tregenza had found religion , of a sort fiery and unlovely enough , but his convictions were definite , with iron-hard limitations , and he looked coldly and without pity on a damned world , himself saved .  Gray Michael had no sympathy with sin and less with sinners .  He found the devil in most unexpected quarters and was always dragging him out of surprising hiding-places and exhibiting him triumphantly , as a boy might show a bird 'segg or butterfly .  His devil dwelt at penny readings , at fairs and festivals , in the brushes of the artists , in a walk on a Sunday afternoon undertaken without a definite object , sometimes in a primrose given by a boy to a girl .  Of all these bitter , self-righteous , censorious little sects which raise each its own ladder to the Throne of Grace at Newlyn , the Luke Gospelers was the most bitter , most self-righteous , most censorious .  And of all those burning lights which reflected the primitive savagery of the Pentateuch from that fold , Gray Michael 'sbeacon flamed the fiercest and most bloody red .  There was not a Gospeler , including the pastor of the flock , but feared the austere fisherman while admiring him .  Concerning his creed , at the risk of wearying you , it must be permitted to speak here ; for only by grasping its leading features and its vast unlikeness to the parent tree can a just estimate of Michael Tregenza be arrived at .  Luke Gospeldom had mighty little to do with the Gospel of Luke .  The sect numbered one hundred and thirty-four just persons , at war with principalities and powers .  They were saturated with the spirit of Israel in the Wilderness , of Esau , when every man 'shand was against him .  At their chapel one heard much of Jehovah , the jealous God , of the burning lakes and the damnation reserved for mankind , as a whole .  Every Luke Gospeler was a Jehovah in his own right .  They walked hand in hand with God ; they realized the dismay and indignation Newlyn must occasion in His breast ; they sympathized heartily with the Everlasting and would have called down fire from Heaven themselves if they could .  Many openly wondered that He delayed so long , for , from a Luke Gospeler 'spoint of view , the place with its dozen other chapels — each held in error by the rest , and all at deadly war among themselves — its most vile ritualistic church of St. Peter , its public-houses , scandals , and strifes , was riper for destruction than Sodom .  However , the hundred and thirty-four served to stave off celestial brimstone , as it seemed .  It is pitiable , in the face of the majestic work of John Wesley in Cornwall , to see the shattered ruins of it which remain .  When the Wesleys achieved their notable revival and swept off the dust of a dead Anglicanism which covered religious Cornwall like a pall in the days of the Georges , the old Celtic spirit , though these heroes found it hard enough to rekindle , burst from its banked-up furnaces at last and blazed abroad once more .  That spirit had been bred by the saint bishops of Brito-Celtic days , and Wesley 'sultimate success was a grand repetition of history , as extant records of the ancient use of the Church in Cornwall prove .  Its principle was that he who filled a bishop 'soffice should , before all things , conduct and develop missionary enterprise ; and the moral and physical courage of the Brito-Celtic bishops , having long slumbered , awoke again in John Wesley .  He built on the old foundations , he gave to the laymen a power at that time blindly denied them by the Church — the power which Irish and Welsh and Breton missionary saints of old had vested in them .  Wesley — himself a giant — made wise use of the strong where he found them , and if a man — tinker or tinner , fisher or jowster — could preach and grip an audience , that man might do so .  Thus had the founders of the new creed developed it ; thus does the Church to-day ; but when John Wesley filled his empty belly with blackberries at St. Hilary , in 1743 ; when he thundered what he deemed eternal truth through Cornwall , year after year for half a century ; when he faced a thousand perils by sea and land and spent his arduous days " in watchings often , in hunger and thirst , in fasting often , in cold and nakedness " ; when , in fine , this stupendous man achieved the foundations of Methodism , the harvest was overripe , at any rate , in Cornwall .  No Nonconformist was he , though few enough of his followers to-day remember that , if they ever knew it .  He worked for his church ; he was a link between it and his party ; his last prayer was for church and king — a fact which might have greatly shocked the Luke Gospelers had such come to their ears .  For John Wesley was their only saint , and they honestly believed that they alone of all Methodist communities were following in his footsteps .  Poor souls !  they lived as far from what Wesley taught as it is easily possible to conceive .  As for Gray Michael , he was under the impression that he and his sect worthily held aloft the true light which Wesley brought in person to Newlyn , and he talked with authority upon the subject of his master and his master 'sdoings .  But he knew little about the founder of Methodism in reality , and still less about the history of the Methodist movement .  Had he learned that John Wesley himself was once accused of Popish practices ; had he known that not until some years after the great preacher 'sdeath did his party , in conference assembled , separate itself from the Church of England , he had doubtless been much amazed .  Though saturated with religious feeling , the man was wholly ignorant of religious history in so far as it affected his own country .  To him all saints not mentioned in Scripture were an abomination and invention of Rome .  Had he been informed that the venerable missionary saints of his mother land were in no case Romish , another vast surprise must have awaited him .  Let it not for an instant be supposed that the Luke Gospelers represented right Methodism .  But they fairly exemplified a sorry side of it ; those little offshoots of which dozens have separated from the parent tree ; and they exhibited most abundantly in themselves that canker-worm of Pharisaism which gnaws at the root of all Nonconformity .  This offense , combined with such intolerance and profound ignorance as was to be found amid the Luke Gospelers , produced a community merely sad or comic to consider according to the point of view .  An instance of Michael Tregenza 'sattitude to the Church will illustrate better than analysis the lines of thought on which he served his Creator .  Once , when she was thirteen , Joan had gone to an evening service at St. Peter 's, because a friend had dared her to do so .  Her father was at sea and she believed the delinquency could by no possibility reach his ears .  But a Luke Gospeler heard the dread tidings and Michael Tregenza was quickly informed of his daughter 'slapse .  He accused Joan quietly enough , and she confessed .  " Then you 'ma damned maiden , " he said , " ' cause you sinned open-eyed .  "  He thought the matter over for a week , and finally an idea occurred to him .  " ' Tis wi'in the power o 'God to reach even you back , " he declared to Joan , " an ' He 'sput in my mind that chastenin 'might do it .  A sore body 'ssaved many sowls 'fore now .  "  Whereupon he took his daughter into the little parlor , shut the door , and then flogged her as he would have flogged a boy — only using his hard hand instead of a stick .  " Get thee behind her , Satan !  Get thee behind her , Satan !  Get thee behind her , Satan !  " he groaned with every blow , while Joan grit her teeth and bore it as long as she could , then screamed and fainted .  That was how the truth about heaven and hell came to her .  She had never felt physical pain before , and eternal torment was merely an idea .  From that day , however , she was frightened and listened to her father gladly and wept tears of thankfulness when , a month after her flogging , he explained that he had wrestled with the Lord for her soul and how it had been borne in upon him that she was saved alive .  She had reached the age of seventeen now , and felt quite confident upon the subject of eternity as became a right Luke Gospeler .  Unlike other women of the sect , however , and despite extreme ignorance on all subjects , the girl had a seed of humor in her nature only waiting circumstances to ripen .  She felt pity , too , for the great damned world , and though religion turned life sad-colored , her own simple , healthy , animal nature and high spirits brought ample share of sunshine and delight .  She was , in fact , her mother 'schild rather than her father 's.  His ancestors before him had fought the devil and lived honest lives under a cloud of fear ; Michael 'sown brother had gone religious mad , when still a young man , and died in a lunatic asylum ; indeed the awful difficulty of saving his soul had been in the blood of every true Tregenza for generations .  But Joan 'smother came of different stock .  The Chirgwins were upland people .  They dwelt at Drift and elsewhere , went to the nearest church , held simple views , and were content with orthodox religion .  Mr. Tregenza said of them that they always wanted and expected God to do more than His share .  But he married Joan Chirgwin , nevertheless ; and now he saw her again , fair , trustful , light-hearted , in his daughter .  The girl indeed had more of her mother in her than Gray Michael liked .  She was superstitious , not after the manner of the Tregenzas , but in a direction that must have brought her father 'sloudest thunders upon her head if the matter had come to his ears .  She loved the old stories of the saints and spirits , she gloried secretly in the splendid wealth of folklore and tradition her mother 'speople and those like them possessed at command .  Her dead parent had whispered and sung these matters into Joan 'sbaby ears until her father stopped it .  She remembered how black he looked when she lisped about the piskeys ; and though to-day she half believed in demon and fairy , goblin and giant , and quite believed in the saints and their miracles , she kept this side of her intelligence close locked when at home , and only nodded very gravely when her father roared against the blighting credulity of men 'sminds and the follies for which fishers and miners , and indeed the bulk of the human family in Cornwall , must some day burn .  People outside the fold said that the Luke Gospelers killed Tregenza 'sfirst wife .  She , of course , accepted her husband 'sconvictions , but it had never been in her tender heart to catch the true Luke Gospel spirit .  She was too full of the milk of human kindness , too prone to forgive and forget , too tolerant and ready to see good in all men .  The fiery sustenance of the new tenets withered her away like a scorched flower , and she died five years after her child was born .  For a space of two years the widower remained one ; then he married again , being at that time a hale man of forty , the owner of his own fishing-boat , and at once the strongest personality and handsomest person in Newlyn .  Thomasin Strick , his second wife , was already a Luke Gospeler and needed no conversion .  People laughed in secret at their wooing , and likened it to the rubbing of granite rocks or a miner 'spick striking fire from tin ore. A boy presently came to them ; and now he was ten and his mother forty .  She passed rightly for a careful , money-loving soul , and a good wife , with the wit to be also a good Luke Gospeler .  But her tongue was harder than her heart .  Father and mother alike thought the wide world of their boy , though the child was brought up under an iron rod .  Joan , too , loved her half-brother , Tom , very dearly , and took a pride only second to her stepmother 'sin the lad 'sprogress and achievements .  More than once , though only Joan and he knew it , she had saved his skin from punishment , and she worshiped him with a frank admiration which was bound to win Mrs. Tregenza 'sregard .  Joan quite understood the careful and troubled matron , never attached undue importance to her sharp words , and was usually at her elbow with an ear for all grievances and even a sympathetic word if the same seemed called for .  Mrs. Tregenza had to grumble to live , and Joan was the safety-valve , for when her husband came off the sea he would have none of it .  Life moved uniformly for these people , being varied only by the seasons of the year and the different harvests from the sea which each brought with it .  Pollock , mackerel , pilchards , herrings — all had their appointed time , and the years rolled on , marked by events connected with the secular business of life on one hand and that greater matter of eternity upon the other .  Thus mighty catches of fish held the memory with mighty catches of men .  One year the take of mackerel had been beyond all previous recollection ; on another occasion three entire families had joined the Luke Gospelers , and so promised to increase the scanty numbers of the chosen .  There were black memories , too , and black years , casting gloomy shadows .  Widows and orphans knew what it was to watch for brown sails that came into the harbor 'ssheltering arms no more ; and spiritual death had overtaken more than one Luke Gospeler .  Such turned their backs upon the light and exchanged Truth for the benighted parody of religion displayed by Bible Christians , by Plymouth Brethren or by the Church of England .  Six months before the day on which she saw his ship through Barron 'sglasses , Joan had been formally affianced to Joe Noy , with her father 'spermission and approval .  The circumstances of the event demand a word , for Joe had already been engaged once before : to Mary Chirgwin , a young woman who was first cousin to Joan and a good deal older .  She was an orphan and dwelt at Drift with Thomas Chirgwin , her uncle .  The sailor had thereby brightened an unutterably lonely life and brought earthly joy to one who had never known it .  Then Gray Michael got hold of the lad , who was naturally of a solid and religious temperament , and up to that time of the order of the Rechabites .  As a result , Joe Noy joined the Luke Gospelers and called upon his sweetheart to do likewise .  But she recollected her aunt , Joan 'smother , and being made of stern stuff , stuck to the Church of England as she knew it , counting salvation a greater thing than even a home of her own .  The struggle was sharp between them ; neither would give way ; their engagement was therefore broken , and the girl 'ssolitary golden glimpse of happiness in this world shattered .  She found it hard to forgive the Tregenzas , and when , six months afterward , the sleepy farm life at Drift was startled by news of Joan 'slove affair , Mary , in the first flush of her reawakened agony , spoke bitterly enough ; and even that most mild-mannered of men , her uncle , said that Michael Tregenza had done an ugly act .  But the fisherman was at no time concerned with Mary or with Joan .  The opportunity to get a soul into the fold had offered and been accepted .  Any matter of earthly love-making counted little beside this .  When Joe broke with Mary , his mentor declared the action inevitable , as the girl would not alter her opinions , and when , presently , young Noy fell in love with Joan , her father saw no objection , for the sailor was honest , already a stanch Luke Gospeler and a clean liver .  Perhaps at that moment there was hardly another eligible youth in Newlyn from Tregenza 'spoint of view .  He held Joan a girl to be put under stern marital rule as soon as possible , and Joe promised to make a godly husband with a strong will , while his convictions and view of life were altogether satisfactory , being modeled on Michael 'sown .  The arrangement suited Joan .  She believed she loved Joe very dearly , and she looked forward with satisfaction to marrying him in about a year 'stime , when he should have won a ship-master 'scertificate .  But she viewed his departure without suffering and would not have willingly foregone her remaining year of freedom .  She respected Joe very much and knew he would make a good partner and give her a position above the everyday wives of Newlyn ; moreover , he was a fine figure of a man .  But he lacked mental breadth , and that fact sometimes tickled her dormant sense of humor .  He copied her father so exactly , and she , who lived with the real thunder , never could show sufficient gravity or conviction in the presence of the youthful and narrow-minded Noy 'ssecond-hand echoes .  Mary Chirgwin was naturally a thousand times more religious-minded than Joan , and sometimes Joe wished the sober mind of his first love could be transported to the beautiful body of his second ; but he kept this notion to himself , studied to please his future father-in-law , which he succeeded in doing handsomely , and contented himself , in so far as his lady was concerned , by reflecting that the necessary control over her somewhat light mind would be his in due season .  To return from this tedious but necessary glimpse at the position and belief of these people to Joan and the washing , it is to be noted that she quickly made up for lost time , and , without further mentioning the incidents of her morning 'sexcursion , began to work .  She pulled up her sleeves , dragged her dress about her waist , then started to cleanse the thick flannels her father wore at sea , his long-tailed shirts and woolen stockings .  The Tregenzas were well-to-do folk , and did not need to use the open spaces of the village for drying of clothes .  Joan presently set up a line among the plum-trees , and dawdled over the hanging out of wet garments , for it was now noon , sunny , mild , and fresh , with a cool salt breeze off the sea .  The winter repose of the bee-butts had been broken at last , and the insects were busy with the plum-blossom and among the little green flowerets on the gooseberry bushes .  Beyond , sun-streaked and bright , extended apple-trees with whitewashed stems and a twinkle of crimson on their boughs , where buds grew ripe for the blowing .  Joan yawned and blinked up at the sun to see if it was dinner time .  Then she watched a kitten hunting the bees in the gooseberry bushes .  Presently the little creature knocked one to the ground and began to pat it and pounce upon it .  Then the bee , using Nature 'sweapon to preserve precious life , stung the kitten ; and the kitten hopped into the air much amazed .  It shook its paw , licked it , shook it again .  Joan laughed , and two pigs at the bottom of the garden heard her and grunted and squealed as they thrust expectant noses through the palings of their sty .  They connected the laugh with their dinner , but Joan 'sthoughts were all upon her own .  A few minutes later Thomasin Tregenza called her , and , as they sat down , Tom arrived from school .  He was a brown-faced , dark-eyed , black-haired youngster , good-looking enough , but not at that moment .  " Aw !  Jimmery !  fightin 'agin , " said his mother , viewing two swollen lips , a bulged ear , and an eye half closed .  " I 'vedowned Matthew Bent , Joan !  Ten fair rounds , then he gived up .  "  " Fight , fight , fight — ' tis all you think of , " said his parent , while Joan poured congratulations on the conqueror .  " ' Tweer bound to come arter the football , when he played foul , an ' I tawld en so .  Now , we 'mfriends .  "  " Be he bruised same as you ?  "  " A sight worse ; he 'sa braave picksher , I tell ' e !  I doubt he wo n't come to schule this arternoon .  That 'llshaw .  I be gwaine , if I got to crawl theer .  "  " An ' him a year older than what you be !  " said Joan .  " Iss , Mat 's' leben year old .  I 'llhave some vinegar an ' brown paper to this here eye , mother .  "  " Ait your mayte , ait your mayte fust , " she answered .  " Plague ' pon your fightin '!  "  " But that Bent bwoy 'sbin at en for months ; an ' a year older too , " said Joan .  " Iss , the bwoy 'sgot no more'n what 'e desarved .  For that matter , they Bents be all puffed up , though they 'mso poor as rats , an ' wi'out 'nough religion to save the sawl of a new-born babe 'mongst the lot of ' em .  "  Tom , with his mouth full of fish and potato pie , told the story of his victory , and the women made a big , hearty meal and listened .  " He cockled up to me , an ' us beginned fightin 'right away , an ' in the third round I scat en on the mouth an ' knocked wan ' is teeth out .  An ' in the fifth round he dropped me a whister-cuff 'pon the eye as made me blink proper .  "  " Us doa n't want to knaw no more 'bout it , " declared his mother after dinner was over .  " You 'velaced en an ' that 'senough .  You knaw what faither 'llsay .  You did ought to fight no battle but the Lard 's.  Now clap this here over your eye for a bit , then be off with ' e .  "  Tom marched away to school earlier than usual that afternoon , while the women went to the door and watched him trudge off , both mightily proud of his performance and his battered brown face .  " He be a reg'lar lil apty-cock , [ Footnote : Apty-cock — Brave , plucky youngster .  ] sure 'nough !  " said Joan .  Mrs. Tregenza answered with a nod and looked along the road after her son .  There was a softer expression in her eyes as she watched him .  Besides , she had eaten well and was comfortable .  Now she picked her teeth with a pin , and snuffed the sea air , and gave a passing neighbor " good-afternoon " with greater warmth of manner than usual .  Presently her mood changed ; she noisily rated herself and her stepdaughter for standing idling ; then both went back to their work .  CHAPTER FOUR  BARRON BEGINS TO LEARN THE GORSE  Between four and five o'clock in the morning of the following day the master of the white cottage came home .  His wife expected him and was getting breakfast when Michael tramped in — a very tall , square-built man , clad to the eye in tanned oilskin overalls , sou'wester , and jackboots .  The fisherman returned to his family in high good temper ; for the sea had yielded silvery thousands to his drift-nets , and the catch had already been sold in the harbor for a handsome figure .  The brown sails of Tregenza 'slugger flapped in the bay among a crowd of others , and every man was in a hurry to be off again at the earliest opportunity .  Already the first boats home were putting to sea once more , making a wide tack across the mouth of the bay until nearly abreast of St. Michael 'sMount , then tearing away like race horses with foam flying as they sailed before the eastern wind for the Scilly Islands and the mackerel .  Michael kissed his wife and Joan also , as she came to the kitchen sleepy-eyed in the soft light to welcome him .  Then , while Mrs. Tregenza was busied with breakfast and the girl cleaned some fish , he went to his own small room off the kitchen and changed his clothes — all silvery , scale-spotted and blood-smeared — for the clean garments which were spread and waiting .  First the man indulged in luxuries .  He poured out a large tub of fresh water and washed himself ; he even cleaned his nails and teeth — hyberbolic refinements that made the baser sort laugh at him behind his back .  At the meal which followed his toilet Tregenza talked to his wife and daughter upon various subjects .  He spoke slowly and from the lungs with the deep echoing voice of one used to vocal exercise in the open air .  " I seed the ' Anna 'yesterday , Joan , " he said , " a proud ship , full-rigged wi 'butivul lines .  Her passed wi'in three mile of us or less off the islands .  "  Joan did not hint at her visit to Gorse Point of the previous day , but her stepmother mentioned it , and her father felt called upon to reprimand his daughter , though not very seriously .  " ' Twas a empty , vain thing to do , " he said .  " I promised Joe , faither .  "  " Why , then you was right to go , though a fulish thing to promise en .  Wheer 'sTom to ?  "  Tom came down a minute later .  The swelling of his lips was lessened , but his ear had not returned to a normal size and his eye was black .  " Fighting again ?  " Michael began , looking up from his saucer and fixing his eyes on his son .  " Please , faither , I — "  " Doa n't say naught .  You 'mso fond of it that I judges you 'dbest begin fightin 'the battle o 'life right on end .  ' Tai n't no use keepin 'you to schule no more .  ' Tis time you comed aboard .  "  Tom crowed with satisfaction , and Mrs. Tregenza sighed and stopped eating .  This event had been hanging over her head for many a long day now ; but she had put the thing away , and secretly hoped that after all Tregenza would change his mind and apprentice the boy to a shore trade .  However , Tom had made his choice , and his father meant him to abide by it .  No other life appealed to the boy ; heredity marked him for the sea , and he longed for the hard business to begin .  " I 'lllarn you something besides fisticuffs , my beauty .  ' Tis all well-a-fine , this batterin 'an ' bruisin ' , but it awnly breeds the savage in ' e , same as raw meat do in a dog .  No more fightin '' cept wi 'dirty weather an ' high seas an ' contrary winds , an ' the world , the flaish an ' the devil .  I went to sea as a lugger-bwoy when I was eight year old , an ' ai n't bin off the water more'n a month to wance ever since .  This day two week you come along wi 'me .  That 'llgive mother full time to see ' bout your kit .  "  Joan wept , Thomasin Tregenza whined , and Tom danced a break-down and rolled away to see some fisher-boy friends in the harbor before school began .  Then Michael , calling his daughter to him , walked with her among his plum-trees , talked of God with some quotations , and looked at his pigs .  Presently he busied himself and made ready for sea in a little outhouse where paint and ship 'schandlery were stored ; and finally , the hour then being half past seven , he returned to his labors .  Joan walked with him to the harbor and listened while he talked of the goodness of God to the Luke Gospelers at sea ; how the mackerel had been delivered to them in thousands , and how the Bible Christians and Primitive Methodists had fared by no means so happily .  The tide was high , and Gray Michael 'sskiff waited for him at the pierhead beside the lighthouse .  He soon climbed down into it , and the little boat , rowed by two strong pairs of hands , danced away to the fleet .  Already the luggers were stretching off in a long line across the bay ; and among them appeared a number of visitors : Lowestoft yawls come down to the West after the early mackerel .  They were big , stout vessels , and many had steam-power aboard .  Joan watched her father 'slugger start and saw it overhaul not a few smaller ships before she turned from the busy harbor homeward .  That morning she designed to work with a will , for the afternoon was to be spent on Gorse Point if all went well , and she already looked forward somewhat curiously to her next meeting with the singular man who had lent her his field-glass .  Mrs. Tregenza was in sorry , snappy case all day .  The blow had fallen , and within a fort-night Tom would go to sea .  This dismal fact depressed her not a little , and she snuffled over her ironing , and her voice grated worse than usual upon the ear .  " He 'ssuch a hot-headed twoad of a bwoy .  I knaw he 'llnever get on ' pon the water .  I doubt us 'llhear he 'sbin knocked overboard or some sich thing some day ; an ' them two brothers , they Pritchards , as allus sails 'long wi 'Tregenza , they 'mthat comical-tempered every one knaws .  Oh , my God , why couldn ' he let the bwoy larn a land trade — carpenterin 'or sich like ?  "  " But , you see , faither 'sa rich man , an 'some time Tom 'llfill his shoes .  Faither do awn his bwoat an ' the nets tu , which is more'n most Newlyn men does .  "  " Iss , I should think ' twas , " said Mrs. Tregenza , forgetting her present sorrow in the memory of such splendid circumstances .  " Theer ba n't wan feller as awns all like what faither do .  The Lard helps His chosen , not but what Tregenza allus helped hisself an ' set the example to Newlyn from his boyhood .  "  Mrs. Tregenza always licked her lips when she talked about money or religion , and she did so now .  Among Cornish drifters Gray Michael 'sposition was undoubtedly unique , for under the rules of the Cornish fishery he enjoyed exceptional advantages owing to his personal possession both of boat and nets .  The owner of a drift-boat takes one-eighth part of the gross proceeds of a catch , and the remaining seven-eighths are divided into two equal parts of which one part is subdivided among the crew of the boat , while the other goes to the owner or owners of the nets used on board .  The number of nets to a boat is about fifty as a rule , and a man to possess his own boat and outfit must be unusually well-to-do .  But it was partly for this reason that Mrs. Tregenza refused to be comforted .  She grudged every farthing spent on anything , and much disliked the notion of tramping to Penzance to expend the greater part of a five-pound note on Tom 'ssea outfit .  In a better cause she would not have thought it ill to expend money upon him .  His position pointed to something higher than a fisherman 'slife .  He might have aspired to a shop in the future together with a measure of worldly prosperity and importance not to be expected for any mere seafarer .  But Tom had settled the matter by deciding for himself , and his father had approved the ambition , so there the matter ended , save for grumbling and sighing .  Joan , too , felt sore enough at heart when she heard that the long-dreaded event lay but a fortnight in the future .  But she knew her father , and felt sure that the certainty of Tom 'sgoing to sea at the appointed time would now only be defeated by death or the Judgment Day .  So she did not worry or fret .  Nothing served to soothe her stepmother , however , and the girl was glad to slip off after dinner , leaving Thomasin with her troubles .  Joan made brisk way through Mousehole and in less than an hour stood out among the furzes in the little lonely theater above the cliffs .  For a moment she saw nothing of John Barron , then she found him sitting on a camp-stool before a light easel which looked all legs with a mere little square patch of a picture perched upon them .  Joan walked to within a few yards of the artist and waited for him to speak .  But eye , hand , brain were all working together on the sketch before him , and if he saw the visitor at all , which was doubtful , he took no notice of her .  Joan came a little closer , and still John Barron ignored her presence .  Then she grew uncomfortable , and , feeling she must break the silence , spoke .  " I be come , sir , ' cordin ' to what you said .  "  He added a touch and looked up with no recognition in his eyes .  His forehead frowned with doubt apparently , then he seemed to remember .  " Ah , the young woman who told me about the luggers .  " Suddenly he smiled at her , the first time she had seen him do so .  " You never mentioned your name , I think ?  "  " Joan Tregenza , sir .  "  " I promised you a little picture of that big ship , did n't I ?  "  " You was that kind , sir .  "  " Well , I have n't forgotten it .  I finished the picture this morning and I think you may like it , but I had to leave it until to-morrow , because the paints take so long to dry .  "  " I 'msure I thank you kindly , sir .  "  " No need .  To-morrow it will be quite ready for you , with a frame and all complete .  You see I 'vebegun to try and paint the gorse .  " He invited her by a gesture to view his work .  She came closer , and as she bent he glanced up at her with his face for a moment close to hers .  Then she drew back quickly , blushing .  " 'Tis butivul — just like them fuzzes .  "  He had been working for two hours before she came , painting a small patch of the gorse .  Old gnarled stems wound upward crookedly , and beneath them lay a dead carpet of gorse needles with a blade or two of grass shooting through .  From the roots and bases of the main stems sprouted many a shoot of young gorse , their prickles tender as the claws of a new-born kitten , their shape , color , and foliage of thorns quite different to the mature plant above .  There , in the main masses of the shrub , mossy brown buds in clumps foretold future splendor .  But already much gold had burst the sheath and was ablaze , scenting the pure air , murmured over by many bees .  " You could a'most pick thicky theer flowers , " declared Joan of the picture .  " Perhaps presently , when they are painted as I hope to paint them .  This is only a rough bit of work to occupy my hand and eye while I am learning the gorse .  Men who paint seriously have to learn trees and blossoms just as they have to learn faces .  And we are never satisfied .  When I have painted this gorse , with its thorns and buds , I shall sigh for more truth .  I cannot paint the soul of each little yellow flower that opens to the sun ; I cannot paint the sunny smell that is sweet in our nostrils now .  God 'sgorse scents the air ; mine will only smell of fat oil .  What shall I do ?  "  " I dunnaw .  "  " No more does anybody .  It ca n't be helped .  But I must try my best and make it real — each spike , as I see it — the dead gray ones on the ground and the live green ones on the tree , and the baby ones and the old gray-pointed ones , which have seen their best days and will presently die and fall — I must paint them all , Joan .  "  She laughed .  " Do n't laugh , " he said , very seriously .  " Only an artist would laugh at me , not you who love Nature .  There lives a great painter , Joan , who paints pictures that nobody else in the wide world can paint .  He is growing old , but he is not too old to take trouble still .  Once , when he was a young man , he drew a lemon-tree far away in Italy .  It was only a little lemon-tree , but the artist rose morning after morning and drew it leaf by leaf , twig by twig , until every leaf and bud and lemon and bough had appeared .  It was not labored and false ; it was grand because it was true : a joy forever ; work Old Masters had loved ; full of distinction and power and patience almost Oriental .  A thing , Joan Tregenza , worth a wilderness of ' harmonies 'and 'impressions , '' nocturnes 'and 'notes , ' smudges and audacities .  But I suppose that is all gibberish to you ?  "  " Iss , so it be , " she admitted .  " Learn to love everything that is beautiful , my good child .  But I think you do , unconsciously perhaps .  "  " I do n't take much 'count of things .  " " Yes , unconsciously .  You have a cowslip there stuck in your frock , though where you got it from I ca n't imagine .  The flower is a month too early .  "  " Iss , ' tis , I found en in a lew , sunshiny plaace .  Us have got a frame for growin 'things under glass , an ' it had bin put down ' pon top this cowslip an ' drawed ' en up .  "  " Will you give it to me ?  "  She did so , and he smelled it .  " D'you know that the green of the cowslip is the most beautiful green in all Nature , Joan ?  Here , I have a flower , too ; we will exchange if you like .  "  He took a scrap of blackthorn bloom from his coat and held it out to her , but she shrank backward and he learned something .  " Please not that — truly 'tis the dreadfulest wicked flower .  Doa n't ' e arsk I to take en .  "  " Unlucky ?  "  " Iss fay !  Him or her as first brings blackthorn in the house dies afore it blows again .  Truth — solemn — us all knaws it down in these paarts .  ' Tis a bewitched thing — a wicked plant , an ' you can see it grawin 'all humpetty-backed an 'bent an ' crooked .  Wance , when a man killed hisself , they did use to bury en wheer roads met an ' put a blackthorn stake through en ; an ' it all us grawed arter ; an ' that 'sthe worstest sort o 'all .  "  " Dear , dear , I 'mglad you told me , Joan ; I will not wear it , nor shall you , " he said , and flung it down and stamped on it very seriously .  The girl was gratified .  " I judge you 'ma furriner , else you 'dknawn 'bout the wickedness o 'blackthorn .  "  " I am .  Thank you very much .  But for you I should have gone home wearing it .  That puts me in your debt , Joan .  "  " 'Tai n't nothin ' , awnly there 'sa many coorious Carnish things like that .  An ' coorious customs what some doa n't hold with an ' some does .  "  She sat down near the cliff edge with her back to him , and he smiled to himself to find how quickly his mild manners and reserve had put the girl at her ease .  She looked perfect that afternoon and he yearned to begin painting her ; but his scheme of action demanded time for its perfect fulfillment and ultimate success .  He let the little timorous chatterbox talk .  Her voice was soft and musical as the cooing of a wood-dove , and the sweet full notes chimed in striking contrast to her uncouth speech .  But Joan 'sdiction gave pleasure to the listener .  It had freedom and wildness , and was almost wholly innocent of any petrifying educational influences .  Joan , for her part , felt at ease .  The man was so polite and so humble .  He thanked her for her information so gratefully .  Moreover , he evidently cared so little about her or her looks .  She felt perfectly safe , for it was easy to see that he thought more of the gorse than anything .  " My faither 'sagin such things an ' sayin 's, " she babbled on , " but I dunnaw .  They seems truth to me , an ' to many as is wiser than what I be .  My mother b'lieved in ' em , an ' Joe did , till faither turned en away from ' em .  But when us plighted troth , I made en jine hands wi 'me under a livin 'spring o 'water , though he said ' twas heathenish .  Awnly , somehow , I knawed 'twas a proper thing to do .  "  " I should like to hear more about these old customs some day , " he said , as though Joan and he were to meet often in the future , " and I should be obliged to you for telling me about them , because I always delight in such matters .  "  She was quicker of mind than he thought , and rose , taking his last remark as a hint that he wished to be alone .  " Do n't go , Joan , unless you must .  I 'ma very lonely man , and it is a great pleasure to me to hear you talk .  Look here .  "  She approached him , and he showed her a pencil sketch now perched on the easel — a drawing considerably larger than that upon which he had been working when she arrived .  " This is a rough idea of my picture .  It is going to be much larger though , and I have sent all the way to London for a canvas on which to paint it .  "  '" Twill be a gert big picksher then ?  "  " So big that I think I must try and get something into it besides the gorse .  I want something or other in the middle , just for a change .  What could I paint there ?  "  " I dunnaw .  "  " No more do I .  I wonder how that little white pony tethered yonder would do ?  "  Joan laughed .  " You 'dnever get the likes o ' him to bide still for ' e .  "  " No , I 'mafraid not ; and I doubt if I 'mclever enough to paint him either .  You see , I 'monly a beginner — not like these clever artists who can draw anything .  Well , I must think : to-morrow is Sunday .  I shall begin my big picture on Monday if the weather keeps kind .  I shall paint here , in the open air .  And I will bring your ship , too , if you care to take the trouble to come for it .  "  " Yes , an ' thank ' e , sir .  "  " Not at all .  I owe you thanks .  Just think if I had gone home with that horrid blackthorn .  "  He turned to his work as though she were no longer present and the girl prepared to depart .  " I 'llbid you good-arternoon now , sir , " she said timidly .  He looked up with surprise .  " Have n't you gone , Joan ?  I thought you had started .  Good-by until Monday .  Remember , if it is cold or rainy I shall not be here .  "  The girl trotted off ; and when she had gone Barren drew her from memory in the center of his sketch .  The golden glories of the gorse were destined to be no more than a frame for something fairer .  CHAPTER FIVE  COLD COMFORT  John Barron made other preparations for his picture besides those detailed to Joan Tregenza .  He designed a large canvas and proposed to paint it in the open air according to his custom .  His health had improved , and the sustained splendor of the spring weather flattered hopes that , his model once won , the work he proposed would grow into an accomplished fact .  There was no cottage where he might house his picture and materials within half a mile of Gorse Point , but a granite cow-byre rose considerably nearer , at a corner of an upland field .  Wind-worn and lichen-stained it stood , situated not more than two hundred yards from the spot on which Barron 'spicture was to be painted .  A pathway to outlying farms cut the fields hard by the byre , and about it lay implements of husbandry — a chain harrow and a rusty plow .  Black , tar-pitched double doors gave entrance to the shed , and light entered from a solitary window now roughly nailed up from the outside with boards .  A padlock fastened the door , but , by wrenching down the covering of the window , Barron got sight of the interior .  A smell of vermin and decay rose from the inner darkness ; then , as his eyes focused the gloom , he noted a dry , spacious chamber likely enough to answer his purpose .  Brown litter of last year 'sfern filled one corner , and in it was marked a lair as of some medium-sized beast ; elsewhere a few sacks with spades and picks and a small pile of potatoes appeared : the roots were all sprouting feebly from white eyes , as though they knew spring held the world , though neither sunshine warmed them nor soft earth aided their struggle for life .  Here the man might well keep his canvas and other matters .  Assuming that temporary possession of the shed was possible , his property would certainly be safe enough there ; for artists are respected in and about Newlyn , and their needs considered when possible .  A farm , known as Middle Hemyll , showed gray chimneys above the fields , half a mile distant , and , after finding the shed , Barron proceeded thither to learn its ownership .  The master of Middle Hemyll speedily enlightened him , and the visitor learned that not only did he speak to the possessor of the cow-byre , but that Farmer Ford was a keen supporter of art , and would be happy to rent his outhouse for a moderate consideration .  " The land ba n't under pasture now , an ' the plaace ed'n much used just this minute , so you 'mwelcome if you mind to .  My auld goat did live theer wance , but er 'sdead this long time .  Maybe you seed the carcass of en , outside ?  I 'llhave the byre cleared come to-morrer ; an ' if so be you wants winders in the roof , same as other paintin 'gents , you 'llhave to put ' em theer wi 'your awn money .  "  Barron explained that he only needed the shed as a storehouse for his picture and tools .  " Just so , just so .  Then you 'llfind a bwoy wi 'the key theer to-morrer , an 'all vitty ; an ' you can pay in advancement or arter , as you please to .  Us 'llsay half-a-crown a week , if that 'llsoot ' e .  "  The listener produced half-a-sovereign , much to Farmer Ford 'sgratification , and asked that a lad or man might be found to return with him there and then to the shed .  " I am anxious to see the place and have it in order before I go back to Newlyn , " he explained .  " I will pay you extra for the necessary labor , and it should not take above an hour .  "  " No more 'twill , an ' I 'llcome ' long with 'e myself this minute , " answered the other .  Getting a key to the padlock , and a big birch broom , he returned with Barron , and soon had the doors of the disused byre thrown open to the air .  " I shut en up when the auld goat went dead .  Theer a used to lie in the corner , but now he 'moutside , an ' I doubt the piskeys , what they talks 'bout , be mighty savage wi 'me for not buryin 'the beast , ' cause all fairies is ' dicted to goats , they do say , an ' mighty fond o ' the milk of ' em .  "  Farmer Ford soon cleared the place of potatoes , sacks , and tools .  Then , taking his broom , he made a clean sweep of dust and dirt .  " Theer 'sa many more rats here than I knawed seemin'ly , " he said , as he examined a sink in the stones of the floor , used for draining the stalls ; " they come up here for sartain , an ' runs out ' long the heydge to the mangel-wurzel mound , I lay .  "  Without , evidences of the vermin were clear enough .  Long hardened tracks , patted down by many paws , ran this way and that ; and the main rat thoroughfare extended , as the farmer foretold , to a great mound where , stowed snugly in straw under earth , lay packed the remains of a mangel-wurzel crop .  At one end the store had been opened and drawn upon for winter use ; but a goodly pile of the great tawny globes still remained , small lemon-colored leaves sprouting from them .  Farmer Ford , however , viewed the treasure without satisfaction .  " Us killed a power o 'sheep wi ' they blarsted roots last winter , " he said .  " You 'dnever think now as the frost could touch ' em , but it did though , awin 'to the wicked long winter .  It got to ' em , sure 'nough , an ' theer was frost in ' em when us gived ' em to the sheep , an ' it rotted theer innards , poor twoads , an ' they died , more'n a score .  "  Barron listened thoughtfully to these details , then pointed to an ugly sight beyond the wurzel mound .  " I should like that removed , " he said .  It was the dead goat , withered to a mummy almost , with horns and hide intact , and a rat-way bored through the body of the beast under a tunnel of its ribs .  " Jimmery !  to see what them varmints have done to ' en !  But I 'llbury what 'sleft right on en ; an ' I 'llstop the sink in the house , then you 'llbe free of ' em .  "  These things the farmer did , and presently departed , promising to revisit the spot ere long with some dogs and a ferret or two .  So Barron was left master of the place .  He found it dry , weather-proof and well suited to his requirements in every respect .  The concerns which he had ordered from London would be with him by Saturday night if all went well , and he decided that they should be conveyed to the byre at an early hour on Monday morning .  The next day was Sunday , and half a dozen men , with Barron and Murdoch among them , strolled into Brady 'sgreat whitewashed studio to see and criticise his academy picture which was finished .  Everybody declared that the artist had excelled himself in " The End of the Voyage .  " It represented a sweep of the rocky coast by the Lizard , a wide gray sand , left naked by the tide , with the fringe of a heavy sea churning on it , and sea-fowl strutting here and there .  In the foreground , half buried under tangles of brown weed torn from the rocks by past storms , lay a dead sailor , and a big herring-gull , with its head on one side and a world of inquiry in its yellow eyes , was looking at him .  Tremendous vigor marked the work , and only a Brady could have come safely through the difficulties which had been surmounted in its creation .  Everybody sang praises , and Barron nodded warm approval , but said nothing until challenged .  " Now , find the faults , then tell me what 'sgood , " said the gigantic painter .  He stood there , burly , hearty , physically splendid — the man of all others in that throng who might have been pointed to as the creator of the solemn gray picture before them .  " Leave fault-finding to Fleet Street , " said Barron ; " let the press people tell you where you are wrong .  I am no critic and I know what a mountain of hard work went to this .  "  " That 'sall right , old man ; never mind the work — or me .  Be impartial .  "  " Why should I ?  To be impartial , as this world wags , is to be friendless .  "  " Good Lord !  d'you think I mind mauling ?  There 'ssomething wrong or you would n't be so deucedly evasive .  Out with it !  "  " Well , your sailor 'snot dead .  "  Brady roared with laughter .  " Man !  the poor devil 'sbeen in the water a week !  "  " Not he .  ' Tis a mistake in nine painted corpses out of ten .  If you want to paint a drowned man , wait till you 'veseen one close .  That sailor in the seaweed 'sasleep .  Sleep is graceful , remember ; death by drowning is generally ugly — stiff , stark , hideous , eyeless , fish-gnawed a week after the event .  But what does it matter ?  You 'vepainted a great picture .  That sea , with the circular swirl , as each wave goes back into the belly of the next , is well done ; and those lumps of spume fluttering above watermark — that was finely noted .  Easy to write down in print , but difficult as the fiend to paint .  And the picture is full of wind too .  Your troubles are amply repaid and I congratulate you .  A man who could paint that will go as far as he likes .  "  The simple Brady forgot the powder in swallowing the jam .  Barron had touched those things in his work which were precious to him .  His impulsive nature took fire , and there was almost a quiver of emotion in his big voice as he answered :