IA
 
 IN UNIFORM BINDING 
 Each, 16mo, 75 cents 
 
 AMOS JUDD 
 By J. A. Mitchell 
 
 I A. A Love Story 
 By Q
 
 IA 
 
 A LOVE STORY 
 
 BY 
 
 Q 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK, 1895
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 TROW OIRCTORY 
 
 PRINTINQ AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
 NEW TOK
 
 PROLOGUE
 
 Though it be songe 
 
 Of old and yonge 
 
 That I shokle be to blame ; 
 
 Theyrs be the charge 
 That speke so large 
 In hurtynge of my name ; 
 
 For I wyll prove 
 That faythfulle love 
 It is devoyd of shame."
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 THE ROUND-HOUSE AT REVVER 
 
 At the western end of the bay a peninsu- 
 la of slate-rock, covered with short turf, 
 pushes out N.N.E. into the Atlantic. The 
 people of Ardevora,* who dry their nets 
 along its chine, call this The Island ; but a 
 lo\v ridge of sand and gravel connects it with 
 the mainland. From the shelter of this 
 ridge Ardevora Town looks across the bay 
 to the whitewashed light-house on Gulland 
 Point four miles as the crow flies, six if 
 you follow the deep curve of the foreshore. 
 
 The beach all the way is sandy the sand 
 a vivid yellow ; and on bright days the sea 
 takes from this underlying sand a sapphire 
 clearness. Blue sea, white breakers, yellow 
 shore in summer this bit of the coast is full 
 
 * Stressed on second syllable Ardevora. It may 
 be well to mention here that the first letter in " la' 1 
 is long, and should be sounded in English fashion, 
 much as if it were written " Eia."
 
 4 1 A 
 
 of colour. It has its own flowers, too ; on 
 the Island the vernal squills, white and pink 
 as well as blue ; gentians afterwards, sea- 
 lavender and succory, and the scarce balm- 
 leaved fig-wort ; wall-mustard, fennel, and 
 valerian everywhere. 
 
 Around the bay, at the back of its yellow 
 beaches, the Towans stretch. In the begin- 
 ning these were sand-hills, piled by the wind 
 and continually shifting. But first the sea- 
 rush took root and stopped the drift, and by 
 degrees this encouraged the turf to grow ; 
 and then the spleen wort came, and the gen- 
 tians, and columbines, and broad -leaved 
 centaury; and now the Towans are green 
 and pleasant to walk on. 
 
 But behind them, and behind Ardevora, 
 rises a country that is sombre and desolate, 
 winter and summer ; a land of moors and 
 granite cairns and things silently gone out 
 of mind, and other things handed down 
 and whispered between a smile and a shud- 
 der (as a man will tell his wife in the morn- 
 ing some absurd and evil dream that he has 
 had) ; where to be born, or to live for long, 
 is supposed to confer strange powers. 
 
 From this forsaken land a small river it 
 has no name runs down and breaks over
 
 A LOVE STORY 5 
 
 a sandy bar into the arc of the bay, about 
 two miles and a half from Ardevora Town. 
 Within the river mouth, among the Towans 
 on the left bank, and half a mile from the 
 bar, stands the hamlet of Revyer. 
 
 Revyer consists of a cottage, a boat- 
 builder's yard, and a round meeting-house. 
 That is all. Nevertheless, Revyer is the 
 metropolis of a religious sect which, not 
 twenty years ago, numbered its followers by 
 thousands, dispersed in every quarter of the 
 globe. The history of the Second Advent 
 Saints begins with this meeting-house among 
 the sand-hills, and the history of the meet- 
 ing-house begins with the Vision of Mary 
 Penno in the year 1773. 
 
 In that year, as everybody knows, the 
 Wesleyan movement was divided by a con- 
 troversy between its leaders between the 
 Calvinist Methodists qn the one hand, and 
 the Arminian Methodists on the other. It 
 was Charles Wesley who had first planted 
 Methodism in Ardevora, and John \Vesley 
 who confirmed it in 1743. During the next 
 thirty years John paid the town no less than 
 sixteen visits, and in August, 1770, was able 
 to write : ' ' Here God has made all our ene- 
 mies to be at peace with us." Notwith-
 
 6 I A 
 
 standing, when the Wesleys declared against 
 Predestination, a certain number in Arde- 
 vora adhered to the Calvinistic creed : among 
 them Mary Penno, a maiden lady owning 
 some small properties in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 The account of what befell this good 
 woman on Lady Day, 1773, I take verbatim 
 from a deposition sworn and attested in the 
 presence of Charles Pendarves, Esq., Magis- 
 trate of the County : 
 
 "March joth, 1773. Came before me 
 Mary Penno, spinster, oetat. 38, Susannah 
 Hocken, James Hocken (her husband), 
 Onesimus Heathcote, Walter Chellew, Will- 
 iam John Trewhella, Nahum Sprigge, and 
 others. This Mary Penno deposes that on 
 the twenty-fifth of this month, she having 
 rent to receive from James Hocken of Rev- 
 yer for a cottage occupied by him and his 
 wife Susannah, did walk over from Ardevora 
 to receive this rent, after her custom : That 
 she did reach Revyer about three o'clock of 
 the afternoon (the light being then good), 
 and was passing the pallace, or store, where 
 formerly they cured pilchards (but now it is 
 disused and the roof gone), about a furlong 
 above James Hocken' s cottage and on the
 
 A LOVE STORY 7 
 
 right of the road, handy by the river ; when 
 she was astonished by a brightness, as of 
 candles burning, within the store : That 
 stopping and looking in by an open window, 
 she saw the form of a man lying upon the 
 earthen floor and writing thereon with his 
 finger, his head supported by the other hand. 
 Deponent says the face of the Apparition 
 was turned from her ; but a great light pro- 
 ceeded from his side (she supposes about 
 where the heart would be) by which she was 
 able to see the writing, and that it was, 
 ' SURELY, I COME QUICKLY.' She then has- 
 tened to the Hocken's cottage, where she 
 found the said Susannah Hocken in the gar- 
 den, amending the bee-skips (the husband 
 being away at his work), and the two wom- 
 en went back to the store together. The 
 Apparition was still there, and in the same 
 posture, but shadowy, ^nd the light coming 
 much fainter from his side. While they 
 looked, it faded away. Deponent, who looks 
 to be in fair health, adds that in all her life 
 before no vision has ever come to her ; and, 
 further, that this did not affect her deeply, 
 but pleasurably, and not (as might be sup- 
 posed) with any great fear. 
 
 " Susannah Hocken confirms the above,
 
 8 I A 
 
 touching the visit paid by the two women 
 together to the store. The Apparition did 
 seem to her not so much a living person, 
 but as it were a form impressed upon the 
 ground. The form was a man's. The 
 writing she saw clearly ; but could not in- 
 terpret it, being unable to read. The light 
 was like a glow-worm's, only much bright- 
 er. The writing disappeared with the rest 
 of the vision. She looked afterwards (it 
 being broad day), and could find none of 
 it, nor sign that the earth had been dis- 
 turbed. This witness also confirms Mary 
 Penno touching the pleasurable nature of 
 the vision. 
 
 " James Hocken (husband of the preced- 
 ing witness) affirms that on the evening of 
 March 251)1 he returned home between the 
 lights, when his wife told him at once of 
 the Apparition. He went with her to the 
 store, taking a lantern, and did examine 
 the place carefully, and especially the 
 ground whereabout the writing had been, 
 but found no sign of any disturbance. 
 
 " Onesimus Heathcote (formerly a Preach- 
 er in Ardevora, but he has cast it up, and 
 now keeps a small shop where he sells gin- 
 gerbread) deposes that between seven and
 
 A LOVE STORY 9 
 
 eight o'clock on the evening of the twenty- 
 fifth, while he and a few friends were hold- 
 ing prayer in his house, came in Mary Pen- 
 no, greatly perturbed and exalted in spirit, 
 with the story of a Vision that had appeared 
 to her at Revyer. Witness questioned her 
 upon it, and walked over to Revyer next 
 morning and questioned Susannah Hockcn 
 separately. The accounts of the two women 
 agreed, and confirmed each other. He af- 
 terwards visited the store, but found nothing 
 unusual. He has known Mary Penno for 
 several years, and considers her a woman 
 of judgment, in matters of business well 
 able to take care of herself. 
 
 " This witness adds (but it is notorious) 
 that the affair has caused a great excitation 
 of feeling in the town, where many have 
 daily been expecting Our Lord's Second 
 Coming " 
 
 Here follow some unimportant deposi- 
 tions, and after them the marks and signa- 
 tures. 
 
 The excitement wore away its edge in 
 two or three weeks, but not before it had 
 cut an entirely new channel for religious 
 feeling in Ardevora. At this distance of 
 time we may not judge the Rev. Onesimus
 
 to I A 
 
 Heathcote. He had come, in 1761, from 
 Wednesbury in Staffordshire, to preach the 
 Word in Ardevora. He had gathered a 
 large flock about him, and had then suffered 
 the loss of nine-tenths of it rather than fol- 
 low Wesley into Arminianism. 
 
 Within three months of the date of the 
 Apparition he married Mary Penno. She 
 had ^300 a year of her own. It is easy to 
 say that the minister saw and seized his op- 
 portunity. It concerns us only that he and 
 his wife founded the sect of Second Advent 
 Saints. 
 
 They built their temple, not in Ardevora, 
 but upon the very spot where Mary Penno, 
 now Heathcote, had seen the Apparition. 
 The ruined pilchard store, with its site, cost 
 but twelve pounds ; and here they raised the 
 Round-house among the sand-hills a slag- 
 stone building, with a conical roof of thatch 
 and four windows facing north, south, east 
 and west since no one knew from what 
 quarter the Lord would direct His Second 
 Coming. A circular pulpit in the centre of 
 the floor gave the preacher a view from each 
 of these windows, which were of clear glass. 
 The one ornament of the interior was a 
 painted frieze, running around the wall un-
 
 A LOVE STORY II 
 
 der the spring of the roof, with the inscrip- 
 tion : " HE THAT TESTIFIETH THESE THINGS 
 
 SAITH SURELY I COME QUICKLY AMEN EVEN 
 so COME LORD JESUS." It formed a circle 
 as continuous as the Egyptian hieroglyphic 
 of the snake that swallows its own tail ; so 
 that little children in the congregation 
 cricked their necks trying to find out where 
 the text began and ended. 
 
 The distance of their meeting-house did 
 not daunt these Advent Saints in Ardevora, 
 who walked their five miles (there and 
 back) twice every Sunday without grum- 
 bling. The government of the sect rested 
 on five Elders who might be male or female 
 elected for life. These Elders chose 
 the Preacher, and could dismiss him, if need 
 were. 
 
 Heathcote and his wife were original El- 
 ders, and drew up the Articles of Faith and 
 Discipline. All converts bound themselves 
 by oath to accept the discipline as laid down 
 and administered by the Five Ruling Elders. 
 As for the faith, to be short, it was a kind of 
 mystical Calvinism a faith, as it were, with 
 two faces ; the one turned back upon the 
 savage inland heaths, the other lurid in the 
 near glow of Apocalypse. You might imag-
 
 12 I A 
 
 ine a child inventing such a faith, to terri- 
 fy himself in bed. 
 
 When, four years later, Mary Heathcote 
 died in childbed, the Second Advent Saints 
 in Ardevora and the neighbourhood num- 
 bered close on eight hundred. 
 
 She left a child a weakly boy with the bap- 
 tismal name of Stephen. The widowed One- 
 simus lived on at Ardevora for another five 
 years, and then migrated with his son to Lon- 
 don, where, in Brixton, he founded the first 
 colony, or "Affiliated Branch," of the Saints. 
 
 But the faith had already begun to cross 
 the seas. The seed crossed in emigrant 
 ships ; it was jolted in white-roofed waggons 
 across the plains of great continents ; it de- 
 scended into Antipodean mines. And it 
 took root. At the close of the century the 
 Elect could number two score of foreign 
 branches plants, rather, from the parent 
 stock ; for each was self-supporting, and 
 each obeyed its own government of Five El- 
 ders. But it is the doom of the Cornish to 
 emigrate and remember. Wherever a colony 
 took root it raised a round meeting-house 
 with four windows, after the pattern of that 
 by Revyer, and in their prayers the exiles 
 returned always to this obscure chapel in the
 
 A LOVE STORY 13 
 
 sand-hills, as Daniel knelt with his lattice 
 open towards Zion. 
 
 Onesimus Heathcote left Ardevora in the 
 beginning of 1783. Our story opens there, 
 just seventy -seven years later,
 
 THE STORY
 
 THE new Preacher was young, and had a 
 smile that seemed younger still. His hair 
 was yellow, with a ripple in it ; his eyes were 
 a bright blue ; his eyebrows and lashes quite 
 dark. Elder Carbines took to him at once. 
 
 " You'm welcome as flowers in May," 
 said he, and shook hands. " la, dust a chair 
 for the Preacher." 
 
 la, the dark-browed serving-maid, dusted 
 a chair and set it in the bow- window that 
 looked on the quay. She had not taken 
 her eyes off the young man since she opened 
 the door to him. He thanked her and sat 
 down. Though the month was February, 
 his boots had gathered dust in his walk 
 across the Towans. The girl knelt down 
 and wiped it away. 
 
 "Please don't trouble," he said, frowning 
 slightly because he felt shy. But she per- 
 sisted, answering it was hardly more than a 
 murmur " Kindly welcome, Preacher." 
 
 Elder Carbines had taken his visitor's card
 
 i8 I A 
 
 and was arranging it with care in the frame 
 of the mirror over the fire-place, where it 
 looked very well. " The Rev. Paul Heath- 
 cote," he read it out with approval, and 
 turned towards the window. 
 
 " You must make up your mind to these 
 little attentions. You'm a great man here 
 in Ardevora, I assure 'ee. Never too soon 
 to begin knowing your flock. The girl's 
 name is la la Rosemundy. She's one of 
 our probationary members ; means to take 
 the vow next Lady Day Feast eh, lass? 
 I dessay she'd like you to give her a kiss." 
 
 Paul Heathcote flushed, between awkward- 
 ness and anger. The girl's head was bowed 
 over his boots ; but he felt her hand slacken 
 on the duster, and, looking down, saw the 
 red blush surge up and across her neck. 
 
 " Tut, now ! " the Elder pursued ; "it's 
 the custom here. You'll find the middle- 
 aged 'uns won't let you off." {Chuckle.} 
 " Old Preacher Ward never missed. He 
 used to say that, takin' one with t'other, a 
 man found hisself about as well off as he 
 started. la, put up your face." 
 
 The girl lifted a burning face, dropped her 
 eyes, and knelt shamefast and submissive. 
 The Preacher frowned. He was very young,
 
 A LOVE STORY 19 
 
 and hated to look foolish ; but it would 
 never do to start by quarrelling with the 
 Chief Elder. Still frowning, he bent for- 
 ward and kissed the girl's forehead. 
 
 Her colour had all gone now. Without 
 speaking or lifting her eyes, she rose and 
 escaped from the room. 
 
 The Elder chuckled again, filled a long 
 clay pipe, and dropped into a high elbow- 
 chair facing the young man. Just outside 
 the bulging window the masts of many fish- 
 ing-luggers rocked by Ardevora quay. 
 
 " Dinner '11 be ready in half an hour. 
 Where's your box or portmantle? You 
 must excuse a widowman's housekeeping. 
 My daughter Bitha, she's away to boardin'- 
 school over to Penzance. She's comin' home 
 on Saturday, though o' purpose to attend 
 your first service. She's being what you 
 call ' finished ' over there. Talks like a 
 book. She'll have the house ship-shape 
 when she comes, if she has to turn it out o' 
 windows. But, meantime, if you'll look 
 over any small failin's " 
 
 "It is very kind of you, Elder, but J 
 have already taken lodgings." 
 
 Mr. Carbines set down his pipe, frowned, 
 and rubbed his chin.
 
 20 I A 
 
 "I take it ill," he said slowly; "I take 
 it ill that you should knock at any door in 
 Ardevora before mine. I am Chief Elder 
 and richest man in the town ; and I meant 
 well by you, young sir. ' ' 
 
 Paul answered: "Yours was the first 
 door I sought in Ardevora. But could I, 
 that am the great-grandson of Mary Penno, 
 pass the Towans without turning aside ? " 
 
 The Elder picked up his pipe again, 
 sucked hard at it, and nodded. 
 
 " There by the Meeting-house I found an 
 old couple living, both of them of the 
 elect " 
 
 " That will be boat-builder Baragwanath 
 and his wife." 
 
 ' ' The same. They guessed at once who 
 I was, and I am ashamed to tell it they 
 fell on their knees and gave God thanks for 
 me. While the old man went for the key 
 of the Meeting-house, the woman took me 
 into her cottage and fed me on new milk 
 and saffron cake. ' ' 
 
 "And it was put into your mind to ask 
 for lodging with them? " 
 
 "There, by the spot where my great- 
 grandmother saw the Angel. You under- 
 stand? I can't tell you how glad they
 
 A LOVE STORY 21 
 
 seemed. The old man took his barrow at 
 once and wheeled it off to the cross-roads 
 for my box. You are not offended ? " 
 
 Paul certainly had a winning voice, and 
 his eyes were brighter than ever as he told 
 his story. 
 
 Mr. Carbines regarded him for a moment, 
 then stared out of window at the rocking 
 masts. The door opened, and the girl la 
 re-entered and began to lay the table. She 
 did not look towards the two men. 
 
 After a minute's silence the Elder spoke 
 
 " I doubt this is the Lord's doin'. That 
 there cottage of the Baragwanaths is where 
 Susannah Hocken lived, she that saw the 
 Vision along wi' your great-grandmother. 
 Nothin' new but the roof. Bitha will be 
 disapp'inted." 
 
 He eyed the bowl of his pipe, and pressed 
 the ashes down with his little finger. 
 
 " We shall all be disapp'inted. We 
 looked to lodge you here in Ardevora, and 
 make much o' you. You'm our little ewe 
 lamb, in a way o' speakin'." 
 
 [The Elder spoke it " ee-wee." This was 
 his literary pronunciation. When in ordi- 
 nary life he had occasion to speak of ewes, 
 he called them " yaws."]
 
 22 I A 
 
 " Our little ee-wee lamb, the last seed o' 
 the early Saints, and the child of our peti- 
 tions, la, girl, run fore an' open the door ; 
 I see 'Tholomew Nance and his wife comin' 
 along the quay. Iss," he resumed as the 
 girl went out, " many a poor widda-woman 
 in Ardevora an' the fishing makes many 
 here hath a-given her penny that you 
 might get learnin', an' be a Preacher fit to 
 hold your own wi' the college-bred Pa'sons; 
 an' hath prayed to live to see the day. 
 You must be tender with us, lad. We re- 
 joiced exceedin' when the Elect in Brixton 
 lent you to us for a while. 'Tisn' for long. 
 You must be about your Father's business. 
 But here the first seed was sown, and shall 
 us not look 'pon the harvest? " 
 
 Paul's eyes were moist ; but before he 
 could answer, the parlour door opened and 
 the company filed in. 
 
 They were Mr. Carbines' four fellow - 
 Elders, whom he had invited to eat meat 
 with the new Preacher. He introduced 
 them as Mr. and Mrs. Nance, Huer Lot, 
 and Eli Tregenza. Mrs. Nance wore a black 
 alpaca gown with a white cashmere turn- 
 over. Black poppies adorned her cap. As 
 she curtsied to Paul, the poppies nodded.
 
 A LOVE STORY 23 
 
 The three men wore blue jerseys and white 
 moleskin trousers, very clean. 
 
 Salutations over, the guests took off their 
 boots and shoes and stowed them in the cor- 
 ner by the tall clock. Then they stood awk- 
 wardly while la brought in the first dish. 
 'Tholomew Nance and Eli Tregenza shot 
 shy admiring glances at the new Preacher. 
 Mrs. Nance stared hard at Huer Lot's left 
 big toe, which protruded from his blue 
 knitted stocking. Huer Lot (a bachelor) 
 balanced himself on one leg, and tried to 
 cover his left foot with his right. 
 
 " That will be conger-pie," said Elder 
 Carbines cheerfully, sniffing and nodding 
 at the dish. " Shall us settle to table ? " 
 
 He arranged them : Mrs. Nance on his 
 right, Paul on his left, 'Tholomew Nance by 
 Paul, Tregenza by Mrs. Nance, Huer Lot at 
 the foot of the table. The table being a 
 long one, Huer Lot sat at an uncomfortable 
 distance from the rest. The Chief Elder 
 looked at Paul. " Will you ask a bless- 
 ing?" 
 
 Paul looked down on his plate. " For 
 what we are about to receive may the Lord 
 make us truly thankful, Amen," he said. 
 All the company repeated "Amen " loudly,
 
 24 I A 
 
 and sat down. Then the awkward silence 
 began again. " After the Preacher," mur- 
 mured Mrs. Nance, when the Chief Elder 
 invited her to pass up her plate for the first 
 helping. But Paul declined to be helped 
 first. 
 
 " The wind will be getting into the south 
 at last," said Mr. Carbines pleasantly. 
 
 Eli Tregenza answered him. Eli was a 
 long man with iron-grey whiskers and slop- 
 ing shoulders. He sat very high at table. 
 " It shifted with the tide," he said. " The 
 Almighty has given us a hard winter." 
 
 " Have you much distress here in win- 
 ter?" Paul asked. 
 
 "A little dufflin'-cider, Sister Nance?" 
 and " The Lord watches over His Elect," 
 began the Chief Elder and Mr. Nance to- 
 gether. Mr. Carbines gave way. " The 
 Lord watches over His Elect," Mr. Nance 
 repeated, "and will by no means leave 
 them without a sign. My son Cornelius 
 he will be about your age, sir, an' has a 
 boat of his own my son Cornelius was up 
 fishing by Lundy, back in November, an' 
 brought word that he found great numbers 
 o' conger up there was floating 'pon top o' 
 the water, bellies uppermost or stomachs,
 
 A LOVE STORY 25 
 
 that is to say, if you like it better. When 
 he told me that, then I knew that anything 
 might happen." 
 
 " But we'd got the cold weather long be- 
 fore that," Mr. Carbines objected. " "Twas 
 the cold killed the conger ; the conger didn't 
 foretell the cold. ' Anything might happen ' 
 Iss, fay, the sky might fall; then all poor 
 souls 'd have larks." It was notorious that 
 the Chief Elder thought rather too freely, 
 and let his tongue run away with him at 
 times. But he was a fish . merchant and 
 prosperous ; so his guests (who were fisher- 
 folk merely) kept silence. 
 
 "Anyhow," he went on, "this here 
 conger wasn' taken that way. la, go round 
 v/i" the cider." 
 
 " I could tell'n for a sand-conger by the 
 piece o' skin on my plate," said Eli. 
 
 " Iss, 'a was light-coloured. la took 'n 
 at low water yesterday. She was dabblin' 
 on the Clean Sand at low water, felt my 
 gentleman wriggle under her toes, an' dug 
 'n up. Forty - seven pound weight and 
 nigh two feet in girth, an' the rest of 'n's 
 gone to Penzance market." 
 
 la removed the plates and the remains of 
 the conger -pie, and brought in a second pie,
 
 26 I A 
 
 which Mr. Carbines announced to be a 
 "squab." 
 
 " Nothing but honest mutton and hoardin* 
 apples chopped small, an' a dozen limpets an' 
 an onion or two, to give it a flavour." 
 
 " When I was a girl," began Mrs. Nance, 
 frowning to her husband to brush off a 
 crumb of pastry that had lodged in a fold of 
 his jersey. " When I was a girl 'twas quite 
 a trade here to make the congers the little- 
 sized ones into conger-doust.* You cut 
 'em down lengthy- ways, spread 'em abroad, 
 sewed half a dozen by their edges, an' dried 
 'em on a frame, like a sheet. Vessels used 
 to take 'em aboard regular from Penzance, 
 for the Pope of Rome and his followers to 
 grate into their heathen soups. There was 
 fair-maids, f too. Nowadays 'tis naught but 
 balking and pickling ; but there was a time 
 when half the pelchurs [pilchards] sent out 
 of Ardevora was fumed wi' smoke. Why, 
 in that very store, Mr. Heathcote, sir, where 
 your blessed great-grandmother saw the An- 
 gelic Vision, I've heard tell For na- 
 tion's sake, girl ! " 
 
 But it was too late. la had bent over, 
 
 * Conger-douce, or sweet conger. 
 f Fumadoes.
 
 A LOVE STORY 27 
 
 with a jug, to refill Mr. Nance's glass. Her 
 wrist brushed Paul's shoulder. Her hand 
 shook. Haifa pint of dufflin' -cider poured 
 over the young Preacher's sleeve. 
 
 He pulled out a handkerchief and began 
 to mop, protesting that no harm was done. 
 The girl set down the jug and ran out. 
 Nobody spoke for a while. Then Mrs. 
 Nance said 
 
 " It will be best West of England cloth ; 
 and shillin' an ell, if a penny-piece." 
 
 The Chief Elder broke out : "Ad beagle 
 the girl ! An' I promised her sixpence, too, 
 for tending the table. Well, 'tis a mercy my 
 daughter wasn' here to see ! ' ' 
 
 "A bad haveage," * said Mrs. Nance. 
 " The girl's father John Rosemundy mar- 
 ried a cunning woman from behind the 
 hills, an' the maid favours her. They'm 
 none of Ardevora. The man came for the 
 seaning from t'other side of the Duchy, an' 
 settled here. There's no harm in him ; a 
 good fisherman; but sam - soaked, f I'm 
 told." She tapped her forehead significant- 
 ly. The men nodded. 
 
 " Rigs his boat cutter-fashion," muttered 
 
 * Parentage. 
 
 f Half-cooked, silly.
 
 28 I A 
 
 Eli Tregenza. At that time the only rig 
 used in Ardevora was the standing lug. 
 
 Paul was about to ask a question, when 
 Huer Lot rose to his feet. Hitherto the 
 Huer had sat at the foot of the table without 
 opening his mouth, except to eat and drink. 
 But now the spirit came upon him suddenly, 
 and shone in his mild sloe-black eyes. 
 
 " Fellow-elect," he began, and the others 
 rose at the word ; "let us gi'e glory to God 
 together, that hath granted His Saints at last 
 to sit at meat wi' the young man, the come- 
 ly child of our long striving. Lord, we gi'e 
 Thee glory for 'n, and beseech Thee to bless 
 'n, that his net may search in deep waters 
 an' gather men an' women to Thy king- 
 dom. And if it please Thee, Lord, still to 
 turn us to his use to tie us of old faith as 
 buoys upon his head-line well. But if not, 
 yet may we bless Thee, saying, Lord, no:v 
 lettest Thou Thy servants depart in peace, for 
 their eyes have seen Thy salvation. Amen." 
 
 All said "Amen," and sat down again. 
 
 "The next dish," Elder Carbines an- 
 nounced, " is a lamb-tail pie." 
 
 He rapped on the table with his knife- 
 handle signal for la to bring in the new 
 dish.
 
 A LOVE STORY 29 
 
 But when the door opened, there ap- 
 peared, not la, but an elderly woman, very 
 red in the face. 
 
 "If you please, maester, her's tossed off 
 cap an' aipernt * an' rinned f out o' door." 
 
 * Apron. f Run.
 
 II 
 
 la lay face downward on the sands, her 
 hands clasped behind her head. Thirty 
 yards down the beach the hollow green 
 breakers roared at her. Behind, the Towans 
 hid her from sight of all living creatures but 
 the gulls, and even from their sight she 
 wished to be covered. She had spoilt the 
 young Preacher's fine new coat. 
 
 She lay with her head bare, and her shoes 
 and stockings tossed aside a little distance. 
 Her toes dug restlessly into the sand. Other- 
 wise, she lay quite still. 
 
 On the Towans the young grasses were 
 pushing under the first warm sunshine of the 
 year. All the flowers in the turf stirred in 
 their winter sleep, and began to dream of 
 spring. Shame lay on la for her clumsiness 
 and the spoiling of the Preacher's coat ; but 
 in the root of her heart something more 
 than shame was moving. 
 
 Until her twelfth year when her mother 
 died la's parents had lived "behind the
 
 A LOVE STORY 31 
 
 hills," where their only near neighbour was 
 an old Irishwoman, who smoked a black 
 pipe upside-down and told the most wonder- 
 ful stories. When John Rosemundy who 
 did not like her was away at the drift-fish- 
 ing, this old woman would come at night to 
 keep his wife company and drink with her. 
 Often and often la had been beaten for steal- 
 ing out of bed to listen to their tales. 
 
 Part of one came into her head now, and 
 she began to say it over to herself 
 
 ' ' One day Dcirdre and her maidens took 
 their needlework out into the sun to the hill- 
 side behind the house. As they sat, three 
 men came journeying round the foot of the 
 knoll. Deirdre looked at them, and began 
 to wonder. When they came near, she said : 
 ' These must be the three sons of Uisncch, 
 and the midmost is Naois, for he is the tall- 
 est and most beautiful.'' The three men 
 went by without so much as a glance up at 
 the maidens. But in that moment love of 
 Naois entered the heart of Deirdre, and she 
 rose and caught up her robe, and left her 
 maidens, and went dawn the hill. She went 
 ajtt-r the men that went past the foot of the 
 hill, and they were hastening, for the dusk 
 was coming on. Then she stretched out her
 
 32 I A 
 
 arms and fried : ' A T aofs, Naois, son jf Uis- 
 ncch, will you leave me ? ' 
 
 la looked up. Two men were coming 
 along the beach towards her and towards the 
 town. They came on the soft sand in the 
 din of the surf, and were within fifty yards 
 of her before she saw them. One was a little 
 man, and rode on a white ass. He carried 
 a small mahogany box slung before him 
 a medicine chest. The white ass and the 
 medicine-chest made the famous Dr. Ham- 
 mer of Laregan recognisable at any distance. 
 
 Beside him walked a strapping young 
 fisherman with a handsome but rather too 
 serious face, which lit up at sight of la. 
 She had risen from the sand, and was drop- 
 ping a curtsy to the Doctor. 
 
 " Fine day, la; I thought you was tend- 
 in' on the new Preacher ? ' ' 
 
 "Fine day. Joel; I thought you was 
 fishin'?" 
 
 The Doctor drew rein, and fixed la with 
 his fierce grey eyes terrifying eyes under 
 bushy grey brows. 
 
 " H'm," said he, " a comely girl. ' The 
 new Preacher,' hey? And what does the 
 new Preacher say ? Has he told you yet 
 that you're a comely girl?"
 
 A LOVE STORY 33 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " He might have said worse. Did he 
 send you forth to roll here in the sand and 
 promise to send out every man and woman 
 in Ardevora to do the same? Has he 
 prophesied pestilence for Ardevora this year? 
 And is he now cleansing its drains? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Then he is a fool. And you say it is 
 good weather, and you are a fool. For it is 
 a dry February, and this is already the 
 third case of French croup that I am going 
 to. Bide but a few days on the beach here, 
 and you will see my white jackass coming 
 again ; and after that again and again. I 
 bring him this way because the salt sand ' ' 
 he nodded at la's bare ankles " is good 
 for the feet of jackasses. ' ' 
 
 He rode forward. The young fisherman, 
 Joel Spargo, lingered a moment. 
 
 " The widow Toms' little girl was took at 
 eight o'clock this mornin'," he explained. 
 
 " You must have jailed * along fast to 
 fetch 'n so quick?" 
 
 " I thought, when we came 'pon you 
 first, the poor mite must be gone around 
 land. You looked to ha' been cryin'." 
 
 * Hurried. 
 3
 
 34 
 
 I A 
 
 la liked Joel Spargo. She and her father 
 were looked upon askance in Ardevora, as 
 strangers from " behind the hills;" and, 
 except in seaning times, managed their fish- 
 ing alone. This young man was one of the 
 very few who gave them friendly words or 
 helping hand. To be sure, he would do a 
 kindness for anybody. 
 
 But she turned from him now in sudden 
 unreasoning anger, and walked off towards 
 the To wans without a word. Joel Spargo 
 stared after her for a while ; then turned 
 sharp on his heel, and rejoined the Doctor. 
 
 That same night la's little sister Jenifer 
 stretched an arm in her sleep and awoke, 
 finding no one beside her in the bed. la 
 stood by the window in her night-shift. 
 She had pinned a shawl across the pane, and 
 stood there muttering to herself. 
 
 Jenifer saw all this by the light of a candle 
 burning on the window-sill. As her eyes 
 got accustomed to it she saw also that the 
 candle had got two skewers stuck through 
 it crosswise. 
 
 "What are you doing, la?" the child 
 asked sleepily. 
 
 la turned sharply. Her elbow caught one 
 of the skewers and knocked the candle over
 
 A LOVE STORY 35 
 
 on the floor, dashing out the light. In two 
 seconds she was back in bed, hugging 
 Jenifer in her arms and sobbing and laugh- 
 ing together. 
 
 " Let me go, la you are hurting me." 
 ' ' Very well, honey ; but I must have my 
 arms round you. Widow Toms has lost 
 her little 'Liza to - night. Joel Spargo 
 knocked wi' the news just as father was 
 makin' home* the door." 
 
 Then Jenifer cried a little for the dead 
 child, and the two sisters dropped asleep in 
 each other's arms. 
 
 * Shutting fast.
 
 Ill 
 
 11 THERE'S the kitchen," said old Mrs. 
 Baragwanath ; " that's for us. There's the 
 parlour here ; that's for you, sir. An' there's 
 two bedrooms, one lookin' over the road, 
 an' t'other looking out to sea we've a-put 
 you into that. But if you'd rather over- 
 look the road, you shall." 
 
 " If I'm not turning you out," said Paul, 
 as he unpacked his box of books, "I'd 
 rather have the room facing the sea." 
 
 " Well, now, I'm glad o' that. No, we 
 don't look out to sea more than we'm 
 obliged, my man an' me. You see, we had 
 two sons once, an' it swallowed the pair. 
 But I'm main glad you like the sea-room. 
 From the window here you can see the 
 light quite plain on Ardevora quay ; an' 
 a back door outside at the end o' the pas- 
 sage. You've only to slip a bolt and you'm 
 out in the yard out to your boat, if you 
 choose to keep one. But the yard is a tidy 
 little place to walk up an' down in an' make
 
 A LOVE STORY 37 
 
 up your sermons, with none to overlook 
 you but Samuel, and he hammerin' away 
 at his boat-buildin', too daft to take any 
 notice." 
 
 She crossed her hands in front of her waist 
 and stood, looking very shrewd and benign 
 in her short-skirted grey gown and mob cap. 
 Though over seventy, she had a bright black 
 eye and the complexion of a girl. 
 
 "Samuel gets a bit totelin' ; * but we 
 mustn' complain after all these years. We 
 was born within a week of each other, an' 
 I've heard my mother tell how it vexed her 
 that his mother should have a man-child and 
 she a maid. The two women wasn' cordial 
 for years after ; but God, you see, sets all 
 things to rights in the end. Oh, yes, 
 Samuel is happy enough, tiddling about his 
 workshop; and now and then, maybe, he 
 gets a ship to charm, and picks up a few 
 shillin's that way." 
 
 " A ship to charm ? " 
 
 " Ay, he takes witchcraft off the vessels; 
 he's very good at that. It's gettin' rare 
 now, but I've knowed him sent for twice in 
 a week, to step over to Penzance to charm a 
 ship. Why, two or three owners used to 
 * Foolish with age.
 
 33 I A 
 
 club together and pay him so much a year 
 quite a tidy little sum " 
 
 " But this is heathenish ! " Paul cried ; 
 and he gave her a sound rating then and 
 there. The old woman took it very humbly. 
 She did not tell Paul that many shillings of 
 this ill-gotten money had found their way 
 to London, to pay for his education. But 
 she told her husband that night, with glee 
 and pride, of the chastening rebuke she had 
 got from Preacher, all to herself. 
 
 Paul resolved to take an early occasion of 
 preaching against the belief in witchcraft. 
 But for his first sermon he had fixed on the 
 theme of Original Sin, after consulting with 
 the Chief Elder, who agreed that a good be- 
 ginning was half the battle. The first de- 
 mand of the Saints was for ex tempore preach- 
 ing ; but in dread of the first Sunday ser- 
 vice Paul wrote this sermon out on paper and 
 committed it to memory. He wrote through- 
 out Friday night and Saturday morning. On 
 Saturday afternoon he took a brisk walk 
 among the Towans, reciting the salient pas- 
 sages aloud to himself and the gulls. In the 
 evening he made a few corrections and re- 
 peated the whole from memory, watch in 
 hand.
 
 A LOVE STORY 39 
 
 By ten o'clock his work was done. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Baragwanath had long since gone 
 to bed, and the cottage was quiet. Paul 
 opened the casement of his small parlour, and 
 looked out. The moon, still crescent, but 
 within three days of full, had just mounted to 
 her zenith in a clear sky flashing full with 
 stars. A faint south-west wind murmured on 
 the roof and broke the river into ripples for 
 the moon to shine upon. Paul heard the 
 tide sucking by the quay-ladder across the 
 yard, and the tumble of the breakers on dis- 
 tant beaches. His gaze wandered forth be- 
 yond the jumbled timbers and black shad- 
 ows in the yard to the misty sea and misty 
 coastline ; to the red light steady on Ar- 
 devora quay ; thence upward to the moon. 
 The wine of his own eloquence danced in 
 his blood ; and as he watched the moon, 
 his thoughts and ambitions soared with her. 
 
 A slight sound drew his eyes down to the 
 quay-door across the yard a door with two 
 flaps, which stood open, breaking the straight 
 shadow of the wall with a square of moon- 
 light. 
 
 In this square of moonlight Paul now saw 
 the upper part of a human figure, framed as 
 in a picture.
 
 40 I A 
 
 It sent a sharp chill down his spine. He 
 leaned forward out of the window and chal- 
 lenged bating his voice in the darkness. 
 
 "Who are you? What is your busi- 
 ness ? " 
 
 There was no reply for a moment, though 
 he felt sure his voice must have carried to 
 the quay-door. The figure paused for a sec- 
 ond or two, then unbarred the lower flap of 
 the door and advanced beyond the wall's 
 shadow to the centre of a moonlit patch be- 
 fore the window. It was the figure of a 
 young woman. Her head was bare, and her 
 sleeves were turned up to the elbows. She 
 wore no cloak or wrap to cover her from the 
 night air, and her close-fitting bodice was 
 open at the throat. As she turned up her 
 face to the window, the moonlight fell full 
 on it, and Paul recognised la Rosemundy. 
 
 " Preacher, Preacher ! " she whispered. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "I've come to fetch you. Old Missus 
 Slade's a-dyin' to-night over yonder " she 
 nodded in the direction of Ardevora 
 " an' you'm wanted there, quick as possi- 
 ble." 
 
 " She wants me? " 
 
 "She's one of the Elect. I reckon she've
 
 A LOVE STORY 41 
 
 got something 'pon her mind. She can't 
 die easy till you've seen her, an' I was to 
 fetch you over quick as I could. ' ' 
 
 The tall clock in the room behind him 
 struck the half - hour. Paul looked at his 
 watch. 
 
 "Very well," he said, "I'll come. I 
 suppose it will take the best part of an hour 
 to walk round ? ' ' 
 
 " You'll not need to walk, an' you 
 needn't wake up anybody in the house. I've 
 brought father's boat to the ladder below, 
 and with this wind we'll get across in half 
 the time it would take to walk. I'll bring 
 you back again all right. You've only to 
 step out here by the back-door. And wrap 
 yourself up, for 'tis a brave distance." 
 
 " I suppose it's serious? " 
 
 " Mortal. I'm glad you'll come," she said 
 simply. 
 
 Paul nodded ; and, going back into the 
 room, slipped on his overcoat, picked up his 
 hat, and turned the lamp down carefully. 
 Then he groped his way to the back-door, 
 unbarred and opened it. la was waiting for 
 him, still in the bright patch of moonlight. 
 
 " I'm glad you've come," she repeated. 
 As she pulled-to the door softly, she led the
 
 42 I A 
 
 way among the planks and heaps of sawdust 
 and scraps of rusty iron that strewed the 
 yard. 
 
 From the quay-door a ladder ran down to 
 the water. At low water one had to de- 
 scend some eighteen feet ; but now the tide 
 was drawing towards full flood, and left but 
 four rungs uncovered. At Paul's feet 
 rocked a small cutter-rigged fishing-boat, 
 made fast to the ladder by a short painter. 
 The girl stepped lightly down, and held up 
 a hand. 
 
 "Thank you," said Paul with dignity ; 
 " I don't want help." 
 
 la made no answer to this ; but, as he fol- 
 lowed, moved forward and cast off the 
 painter. Then she pushed gently away from 
 the ladder, hoisted the small foresail, and, re- 
 turning aft, stood beside Paul for a moment, 
 with her hand on the tiller. 
 
 " Haul in the foresheet and belay," she 
 said suddenly. 
 
 The young man looked at her helplessly. 
 It was just to make sure of his ignorance 
 that she had spoken. 
 
 "Never mind," she said; "I'll do it 
 myself. ' ' 
 
 She made fast the rope. The mainsheet
 
 A LOVE STORY 43 
 
 ran out on its block, and the sail began to 
 draw as they glided out from under the wall 
 upon the breast of the moonlit river. The 
 soft breeze blew behind their beam and car- 
 ried them swiftly down on the slack water. 
 
 At first the Towans rose steeply on either 
 hand, casting black shadows through which 
 the boat cut an arrowy, phosphorescent line. 
 But by-and-by the shores grew flat, and it 
 became hard to tell where sand and river met. 
 And now Paul saw the curving ranks of the 
 breakers and a broad smooth passage divid- 
 ing them. Down the passage the boat fled 
 with a lazy lift of her bows, and shot over the 
 river bar into the large waters of the bay. 
 
 la hauled in the mainsheet a foot or so, 
 and the water began to hiss before them. 
 For a mile or more the two kept silence. 
 The red light on the quay -end shone steadily 
 ahead, a point or two off the weather-bow. 
 One by one they opened the riding lights of 
 a few traders at anchor beyond ; and then 
 the white walls of the coastguard station 
 came in sight and the house-roofs ofArde- 
 vora glistening. 
 
 Paul knew nothing of the management of 
 a boat, but it struck him that la was steering 
 rather wide of the town.
 
 44 I A 
 
 " I thought you told me," he said at 
 length, " that Mrs. that the woman v-ho 
 sent for me lived in Ardevora town ? " 
 
 la shook her head. 
 
 " Not in Ardevora town Ardevora par- 
 ish. We'll have to go round the point." 
 
 She looked away as she spoke looked 
 out under the sail towards the north-east, 
 where the light flashed on Gulland Point, 
 now well on their starboard beam. 
 
 The boat was one of a class rare in Arde- 
 vora, but common enough on the south 
 coast, where they serve for the hook-and-line 
 as well the drift-net fishing ; clinker-built, 
 about twenty-seven feet in the keel and nine 
 in the beam ; rigged with large mainsail, 
 gaff-topsail (la had not hoisted this to- 
 night), and foresail setting on a forestay, 
 fastened to an iron bumkin on the stem. It 
 had no deck beyond a small cuddy forward, 
 on the top of which a heavy dew was gather- 
 ing as they moved. 
 
 " Do you often handle this boat alone? " 
 Paul asked. 
 
 "Father and I work here together, most 
 days. Joel Spargo helps us when we take 
 the net, an' sometimes we get a small boy 
 to come wi' us for a penny or twopence.
 
 A LOVE STORY 45 
 
 It's a four-man job, by rights. But Joel 
 and father are both very strong men." 
 
 "And you? " 
 
 She let go the tiller for a moment, took 
 his hand by the wrist and laid it on her bare 
 right arm. It was round and smooth, but 
 firm as a man's. Paul withdrew his hand, 
 without finding anything to say. She took 
 the tiller again and leaned back, with her 
 eyes fixed straight ahead upon the misty 
 stretch of sea beyond the Point. 
 
 In a minute or two they were passing out- 
 side the land, almost in the cliff's shadow. 
 The wind fluked for a few seconds and then 
 blew steady again off shore. la began to 
 flatten the sails, and asked Paul to bear a 
 hand with the sheets as she luffed a little 
 and brought the boat's nose round to the 
 westward. Heeling gently over the dark 
 water, they began to skirt the dim shore 
 with the breeze on their left cheeks. 
 
 " How much farther? " asked Paul. He 
 wondered if his duty would often take him 
 on such journeys as this, and felt thankful 
 that the sea was smooth. 
 
 "A little tighter on the fore -sheet," said 
 la, nodding towards it. 
 
 He bent down to haul on it. As he did
 
 46 I A 
 
 so he felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and 
 the girl stooped and kissed him on the tip 
 of the ear. 
 
 For the moment it took away his breath. 
 
 ' ' How dare you ? " he stammered . "Set 
 me ashore. Where is this house you're tak- 
 ing me to ? " 
 
 la drew herself up and looked him straight 
 in the eyes. 
 
 " There's no such place." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " There's no such place. There's nobody 
 ill at all. I told you a lie. ' ' 
 
 ' ' You told me a lie then why in the 
 world are we here ? ' ' 
 
 "Because ah, Preacher, can't you tell? 
 because I'm sick o' love for you, an' want 
 'ee to marry me." 
 
 "Are you mad?" 
 
 "Ah, but consider, consider! Look at 
 me" and her figure seemed to dilate and 
 grow taller, as she stood there resting a hand 
 on the tiller. Shame blazed in her face, and 
 went and came again ; but still she looked 
 at him straight, with serious eyes. " Be I 
 not strong ? Be I not comely ? ' ' With a 
 sweep of her left hand she loosened the knot 
 of her hair and shook the splendid black
 
 A LOVE STORY 47 
 
 tresses down over her shoulders. " To-mor- 
 row they'll all be after thee, an' this is my 
 only chance; for my father's a very poor 
 man. But there's none stronger to work for 
 thee, nor that'll love thee so dear ! " 
 
 Paul stamped his foot. " Set me ashore 
 at once ! " he commanded. 
 
 " Nay ; that I will not, till thou promise. 
 Lad, when I spilled the cider over thee, 
 t'other day, 'twas my hand that brushed 
 agen the little curls behind thy neck, an' 
 shook for love o' thee. An' I have spells ' ' 
 she spread her tresses wide in the moon- 
 light and let them drop back rfpon her 
 shoulder " for my mother was a cunning 
 woman, and I have touched Zennor stone 
 at midnight. I have spells for thee, lad. 
 Consent, consent an' the sorrow be on me 
 only! " 
 
 ' ' I never heard of such awful impropriety 
 in my life ! Turn back ! I order you to 
 steer back to Ardevora at once ! " 
 
 She shook her head. " Nay, lad ; I will 
 not. An' what's more, you don't know 
 how to handle a boat, an' couldn' get back 
 by yoursel' not in a month." 
 
 " This is madness. You you abandoned 
 girl ! how long do you mean to keep me here? ' '
 
 48 I A 
 
 " Till thou give in an' say ' yes ' to me. 
 We'm goin' straight out to sea, an' turn 
 back I will not." 
 
 " Girl, do you know that if I'm not back 
 by daybreak, I'm a ruined man ? " 
 
 " And oh, man ! Can't 'ee see that I'm 
 ruined, too, if I turn back without your 
 word ? How shall I show my face in Ar- 
 devora streets again, tell me? " 
 
 Under this sudden transference of re- 
 sponsibility the young man fairly staggered. 
 ' ' You should have thought of that before, ' ' 
 he muttered feebly. 
 
 " O' course I thought of it. But for love 
 o' you I risked all. An' now there's no 
 goin' back." She paused a moment, and 
 then added simply : " Why, lad, doesn' 
 that prove I love thee uncommon ? ' ' 
 
 " I prefer not to consider it. Once more 
 will you go back ? " 
 
 "I can't." 
 
 He bit his lips and moved forward to the 
 cuddy, on the roof of which he seated him- 
 self sulkily, la tossed him an end of rope. 
 
 " Dear, better coil that up an' sit 'pon it. 
 The dew '11 strike a chill into thee." 
 
 She took up her old attitude by the tiller 
 and looked steadily ahead, her gaze passing
 
 A LOVE STORY 49 
 
 just over Paul's hat. When he glanced up 
 he saw the dew and moonlight mingling in 
 her dark hair ; saw the starshine in her dark 
 eyes. Around them the firmament blazed 
 with constellations up to its coping. Due 
 west upon the forestay Orion hung, with the 
 Twins above, and Sirius sparkling on the 
 brink of the sea to the southward. Due 
 south, high over the land, Regulus led the 
 eye up to the Great Bear swinging right 
 overhead. Procyon on the weather-bow; 
 Hydra a little before the beam ; Arcturus 
 almost astern as Paul's gaze travelled round 
 on the windward side it encountered these 
 three famous stars, and all at about the same 
 altitude ; while low down in the north-east, 
 white Vega peeped under the boom-end. 
 Forward the dusky canvas now hid and now 
 revealed Aldebaran and the Pleiades. Never 
 had Paul seen stars so multitudinous or so 
 resplendent. Never before had they seemed 
 so alive to him. He could almost hear 
 them breathe. And beneath it all the little 
 boat raced westward. 
 
 Neither spoke. On the cuddy-top Paul 
 sat and nursed a dumb rage. The whole af- 
 fair was ludicrous, but it meant the sudden 
 ruin of his good name and of the hopes of
 
 So I A 
 
 the Elect. It must be past midnight, and 
 this was the day of initiation the day of his 
 First Sermon ! Whenever it pleased this 
 mad Amazon to set him ashore, he must pack 
 his box hastily and flee but whither ? To 
 what colony of the Saints would the tale not 
 pursue him ? No ; this ended his calling, 
 his education, his ambitions once and for 
 all. It was hard. 
 
 A star shot down from the Milky Way and 
 disappeared in darkness behind the girl's 
 shoulder. His eyes following it, encountered 
 hers. She left the tiller, and came slowly 
 forward. 
 
 " In five minutes the coast turns south'ard, 
 an' we leave land behind. Ay, dear, look 
 at me : that's what I've wanted 'ee to do all 
 along. Look at me, for I perish wi' love. ' ' 
 
 She flung both arms out towards him, and 
 broke into a subdued chant a love-song of 
 the woman of her mysterious race crooning 
 it in her throat as a dove croons to his 
 mate 
 
 " Long before day I left my father's cottage, 
 
 I went by the tamarisks upon the hedges by the 
 
 sea, 
 Seeking my lovely one, my comforter, before the 
 
 morning.
 
 A LOVE STORY 51 
 
 " -My brothers three lie drowned by Dolor Ogo : 
 They call in the night, ' Little sister, when is the 
 
 wedding ? 
 
 It is cold waiting, and thou a drudge in our fa- 
 ther's cottage.' 
 
 " Now must I go and whisper them ' Not yet,' 
 Not yet ; but the thyme of the hedge kisses my 
 
 naked foot 
 So will he kiss me soon, and comfort me, my pretty 
 
 lover. 
 
 " Then will I kneel by him, and he shall bandage 
 The wounds of the brambles, and I, kneeling be- 
 side him, 
 
 Sweetly, my arm holding his waist, will kiss him 
 ah, when ? " 
 
 She held out her hands. Hardly knowing 
 what he did, the young man took them ; 
 then in a moment let them go but too late. 
 The boat its helm neglected ran into the 
 wind, and fetched up with a shiver and sud- 
 den lurch. Paul staggered : before he could 
 recover his balance la's arms were about his 
 neck. 
 
 He saw her parted lips, and felt her warm 
 breath on his own. With that he accepted 
 his fate for good or ill. He drew back no 
 longer, but bent forward, and their lips met. 
 
 At once la's arms relaxed. Takinsr his
 
 52 I A 
 
 two hands in hers, she held him for a. mo- 
 ment at arm's length, searching his face ; 
 then dropped his hands, walked aft, and put 
 up the helm. 
 
 "Cast off the foresheet, there, an' duck 
 your head. I'm goin' to gybe her." 
 
 So they headed for home.
 
 IV 
 
 DING, DING, DING, DING ! went the bell 
 above the conical roof of the Round-house. 
 But the Saints were all gathered inside. The 
 four male Elders wore broadcloth, and each 
 had a chimney-pot hat stowed under his 
 seat. Under other seats rested the dinner- 
 baskets of Saints who had tramped from a dis- 
 tance. The men, as a rule, came in their 
 moleskins and best Guernsey smocks. The 
 women in Ardevora are fond of bright ker- 
 chiefs and turnovers yellow, scarlet, and 
 violet anything but green, which is the 
 piskies' colour. If you half-closed your 
 eyes, these kerchiefs gave the effect of gay 
 parterres of tulips radiating from the foot of 
 the circular pulpit. Breaths of the salt sea 
 entered by the window open towards the 
 north, and mingled with odours of pepper- 
 mint and pomade. 
 
 la sat between her father and Jenifer, on 
 one of the back benches against the wall. 
 She wore an orange handkerchief over her
 
 54 I A 
 
 head, and a violet one over her shoulders, to 
 hide the scantiness of her grey stuff bodice. 
 The bodice this morning almost suffocated 
 her, it was so tight. 
 
 Jenifer shuffled her feet, uneasy in Sun- 
 day boots ; and la laid a hand on her knee. 
 
 " Why is your hand shakin' like that?" 
 the child whispered. 
 
 DING, DING, DING ! The young Preacher 
 entered, and climbed the pulpit stairs. He 
 had a Bible in his left hand, and a roll of 
 paper. His face was as white as the paper ; 
 his eyes shone feverishly as he spread out the 
 roll, opened his Bible, and looked around. 
 
 The bell ceased. " Will he break down ? 
 'Tis a terrible trial, the First Sermon ; an' 
 he feels it, poor dear ! " said the congrega- 
 tion in their hearts. 
 
 But la's heart cried, " Be brave, dear, or 
 we are broken together ! " For the first 
 time in her life this maid tasted woman's an- 
 guish, and sat sensitive but helpless, her hap- 
 piness staked on a man's courage and skill. 
 
 But Paul was not going to break down. 
 Feverishness and want of sleep had not 
 driven the sermon out of his head, but had 
 screwed his nerves up to a white courage. 
 His wits were unnaturally clear, and his
 
 A LOVE STORY 55 
 
 voice never shook as he gave out the first 
 verse of the hymn. When the hymn ended, 
 and he knelt and spoke the first few sentences 
 of prayer, the Saints forgot to tremble, and 
 began to wonder. 
 
 Here was not eloquence, as they under- 
 stood it. Here was no sound and fury and 
 passion strained to breaking-point ; but a 
 natural voice pleading like a child's simple, 
 direct, infinitely persuasive. It took God's 
 goodness for granted, and His fatherly con- 
 cern in human aspirations and sorrows. It 
 touched the parental instinct in these men 
 and women, whose bowels already yearned 
 over the lad ; and more than one woman 
 wiped her eyes. 
 
 la sat, faint at first, as the danger passed, 
 then elate. Then she began to wonder, too. 
 By-and-by, during the sermon, her wonder 
 grew to something like terror. 
 
 Vaguely it dawned on her that she had 
 been bolder even than she knew; that Paul 
 had gifts which confer distinction in spheres 
 far larger than Ardevora ; that she, an igno- 
 rant girl, had thrust herself into the future of 
 one who might become a very great man 
 indeed. 
 
 But there was something else. The ser-
 
 56 I A 
 
 mon, though it affected the congregation, 
 was not particularly good in substance ; not 
 at all good in comparison with the prayer. 
 The thought was bookish, undigested, boy- 
 ish ; and Paul had over-elaborated the style. 
 True, he had scarcely given out the text be- 
 fore he swept the manuscript with his elbow 
 on to the pulpit floor, and there let it lie. 
 But he remembered it all too well. 
 
 " The woman whom Thou gavest to be 
 with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did 
 eat." When he reached this point in the 
 story of the Fall, how feeble his comment, 
 and commonplace, after what had happened ! 
 And yet how sincere the delivery ! A fine 
 passion shook his voice ; just shook it, and 
 no more. 
 
 la gazed up at his earnest face, gazed with 
 a sudden sense of desolation a sudden feel- 
 ing that she did not understand him. And 
 yet she must love him all her life. 
 
 But the Saints were mightily pleased. 
 The sermon moved them, yet not so deeply 
 that they failed to count Paul's thumps upon 
 the desk, or to note his one reference to ' ' the 
 original Greek." As he came down the pul- 
 pit stair, Huer Lot tarried to shake him by 
 the hand. " Mine eyes have seen," he said.
 
 A LOVE STORY 57 
 
 "Mine eyes have seen." And the Chief 
 Elder waited outside to convey Paul off to 
 dinner. It was his rule ; roasted beef in the 
 winter months, and roasted duck in the sum- 
 mer, la, too, stood among the small bevy 
 of fisher-girls on the green outside, but Paul 
 did not look towards her. 
 
 "This here is my daughter," said the 
 Chief Elder; and Bitha Carbines bowed 
 and shook hands with Paul. She was tall 
 and fair and pretty, with a complexion of 
 cream and roses, and hair upon which (peo- 
 ple said) she could sit if she were so minded. 
 The three moved away up the road Mr. 
 Carbines in the middle ; Bitha on his right 
 with her face turned a little aside towards 
 the sea. 
 
 "That's to show 'n the big plait," re- 
 marked one of the girls on the green. " He 
 can't turn his head her way but it stares 'n 
 in the face." 
 
 "An' her features look best from the left 
 side, as everybody knows." 
 
 " I reckon Bitha Carbines will have 'n," 
 said a lanky girl who was to be married in 
 three weeks' time to a young tinsmith. 
 " Well, it's no odds to me." 
 
 "I wish 'twas me, then," laughed the
 
 5 I A 
 
 first speaker. " I'm more the colour for 'n. 
 Grace is fair-skinned, an' so is he ; an' 
 white's mate is black, they say." 
 
 " Iss, if you had the yellow in your 
 pocket, Lizzie ! " 
 
 " Ad -rat it there you be! I've no 
 money, so I reckon I'll have to marry pilch- 
 ards, after all; but I'm fair in love wi' the 
 Preacher, ari' that's flat." / 
 
 la heard. Her heart sang " He is mine 
 mine mine!" She took little Jenifer 
 by the hand, and hurried after her father and 
 Joel Spargo, who were far up the road by 
 this time, trudging homeward side by side, 
 and talking which was not their custom. 
 
 " I dunno what made rne speak it, just 
 now," Joel was saying. " Maybe 'twas the 
 sermon made me feel I wanted to. When 
 a matter like this is on your mind ' ' 
 
 " Oh, ay," answered John Rosemundy. 
 
 " I reckoned I'd speak to you first." 
 
 The two tall slow men walked in silence 
 for a while. 
 
 " Oh, ay," John Rosemundy repeated. 
 " Sure-ly." After another pause : " I'd no 
 idee. Lad, ye musn' think but what I'm 
 pleased. If la says 'iss' to 'ee, I'll not 
 say ' nay.' But she must decide."
 
 A LOVE STORY 59 
 
 " O' course." 
 
 l( O' course, o' course havin' no mother. 
 Ye won't come an' take a bit o' dinner 
 'long wi' us ? " 
 
 " Thank 'ee, not to-day. I'd be bashful, 
 an' might choke. Maybe I'll step round 
 once for the afternoon " 
 
 But here la caught them up, and the two 
 men were dumb.
 
 JOEL did step round to the Rosemundys' 
 cottage after dinner. He had even taken 
 heart to tie his neck-cloth into a " courting- 
 bow." But he did not find la. 
 
 High up on one of the hills behind Arde- 
 vora, la lay at full length in the brown 
 bracken and watched the undulating moor- 
 land between her and the town. A granite 
 cromlech flung its shadows over her ; this 
 was the landmark to guide her lover. Right 
 underneath, the rains had cut a narrow gully 
 down the side of the tor a gully that wi- 
 dened when it reached the lower slope, and 
 became but a green hollow. 
 
 On one of the spurs beside the green hol- 
 low a black figure came into view, climbing 
 the hill-side. It was Paul. la stood up 
 and waved to him to come up by way of the 
 gully. He saw, understood, and turned 
 aside into it. At first it was easy walking 
 on good turf; but by-and-by the slope be- 
 came abrupt, the turf gave place to naked
 
 A LOVE STORY 6 1 
 
 granite with dry fern between, and at last 
 he had to use his hands and scramble up by 
 a stairway of heaped boulders. He heard 
 la's laugh above him. But when he strug- 
 gled out, and stood panting, on the grass at 
 the foot of the cromlech, she was nowhere 
 to be seen. He stared up at the great mass 
 of granite. Another laugh seemed to come 
 from the very heart of it. Above the first 
 tall slab of rock he spied a cleft, about a 
 foot wide, with daylight shining through. 
 The granite gave good hand - hold. He 
 pulled himself up, squeezed through the 
 crevice, and found himself in a natural 
 bower, shaped somewhat like the hollow of 
 a crown, ringed about with tall rocks and 
 open to the sky. Leaning against the rock 
 furthest from the entrance, la faced him. 
 
 She was laughing no longer ; but came 
 towards him meekly, and shyly touched his 
 hand. 
 
 ' ' It was splendid ! ' ' 
 
 " What was splendid ? " 
 
 " The service. Dear, you'm a great 
 preacher." She blushed. "I wish you'd 
 say that." 
 
 "Say what? I'm afraid I'm tired and 
 stupid."
 
 62 I A 
 
 "Say 'dear' 'la dear.' " 
 
 "la dear." 
 
 He sat down with his back against a 
 boulder, and took her hand. 
 
 " I'm glad, you know. I was afraid you 
 wouldn't come, an' then I'd ha' gone an' 
 drowned mysel', I think." 
 
 "But the risk?" 
 
 " No risk at all. The way you came is 
 hid from Ardevora side ; an' man or woman, 
 boy or maid, none comes nigher the Witch's 
 Crown than they can help. If they do see 
 here " - 
 
 She jumped up and ran towards an open- 
 ing in the rocky parapet that gave a glimpse 
 of distant hills with white clouds floating 
 and shining above them. She stepped 
 through the opening, threw a glance back at 
 Paul, and leaped over out of sight. With a 
 cry he sprang up, and ran to the parapet. 
 la, still glancing backwards and upwards, 
 was running along a narrow ledge six feet 
 below. She passed round the cromlech, 
 and disappeared. Almost before he could 
 draw breath, he heard her laugh again right 
 above him ; and there she sat, high on a 
 flat-topped stone that jutted sheer over the 
 verge.
 
 A LOVE STORY 63 
 
 " Come down ! " he called. 
 
 Instead of answering, she began to sway 
 her body to and fro upon the stone ; and to 
 his horror the stone began to rock. He 
 covered his eyes. 
 
 In a second or two she had slipped down 
 from the rock and stood safe at his side. 
 
 "That there's a logan, dear; no fear of 
 its topplin' over. If you want to be a witch, 
 you've got to come up here at midnight an' 
 climb on to the stone nine times without 
 loggin' it. My mother did it when she was 
 a girl, an' I did it at seven year old. 
 Mother came with me." 
 
 la was showing-off in her own fashion. 
 She added 
 
 " Bitha Carbines couldn' do that. Be 
 you in love wi' Bitha Carbines already? " 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense. And look here, 
 la " 
 
 " la dear." 
 
 " Look here, la dear, if you care for me, 
 as you say you do, we must be married 
 some day; and then you'll be a Preacher's 
 wife." 
 
 "An' sit in a pew just beneath you, an' 
 hear your beautiful voice runnin' on over- 
 head, an' feel that proud."
 
 64 I A 
 
 "Yes; but a Preacher's wife mustn't 
 have these foolish notions about witchcraft 
 and the like. Her heart must be full of the 
 fear of God, and she must be educated ; 
 and then some day ' ' 
 
 la sighed ; she did not understand, but 
 felt that he was thinking of her not at all, 
 or a very little indeed. 
 
 "Yes, some day," she echoed. "You 
 shall teach me, an' I will learn all these 
 things. An' you really love God like 
 that?" Paul's cheeks grew red at once, 
 and his eyes bright. " Very well, dear, 
 then I'll love Him too. But rest 'ee here, 
 for now your cheeks be pale agen an' tired. 
 Shall I sing to 'ee now? I've a very pretty 
 voice." 
 
 Paul sat down again, with his back to the 
 boulder ; and la, beside him, holding his 
 hand, began to sing. But again the sing- 
 ing was not like other singing known to 
 Paul, but low and almost monotonous, the 
 voice hesitating here and there over irregu- 
 lar rhythms as a brook runs over pebbles 
 
 " Bend your ear to the earth, 
 Bend your ear to my heart ; 
 The earth dreams of harvest, 
 The heart thinks its thoughts.
 
 A LOVE STORY 65 
 
 ' The barley reaches 
 The farmer's arm-pit, 
 And bends and listens. 
 The rabbits listen 
 Was that the whet stone 
 Or only the corn-crake calling ? 
 
 But my thoughts grow on 
 Day and night, fearing nothing. 
 Under their branches 
 Is my face hot ? 
 It is hot, but hot freckled 
 Hot, for you plague me. 
 What have I done that you trouble me 
 trouble me ? " 
 
 The shadow of a homing rook swept over 
 the hiding-place. Paul opened his eyes. 
 la still sat there, holding his hand. 
 
 "I must have dropped asleep," he said. 
 "What time can it be?" 
 
 "You've been sleepin' this hour and 
 more. ' ' 
 
 She rose, stepped to the parapet, and 
 looked towards the north-east. A light col- 
 umn of smoke was rising from the hollow 
 where Revyer lay. This meant that old 
 Mrs. Baragwanath had begun to boil the 
 kettle for such of the Elect as came from a 
 5
 
 66 I A 
 
 i 
 
 distance and spent the whole Sabbath in or 
 about the Round-house. 
 
 " It will be half-past four o'clock," said 
 la; "an' just an hour to Prayer Meetin'. 
 Time for you to go, dear. Keep straight 
 on towards the smoke, an' you'll be there in 
 five-an' -twenty minutes." 
 
 He had turned to pass out through the 
 crevice, but halted, came back very shyly 
 and kissed her for the first time that day. 
 
 la laughed happily. 
 
 One kiss I begged of 'ee last night. 
 'Hast given me the second o' thy own free 
 will. Not even in thy sleep just now did I 
 steal one." 
 
 She stood by the parapet looking after 
 him as he walked over the moor. Half a 
 mile from Revyer Valley a granite-paved 
 road descended seaward from the hills. 
 Paul had crossed it but two minutes before 
 a rider hove in sight on the ridge above and 
 came ambling down the road. Even at that 
 distance la knew him. It was Dr. Hammer 
 of Laregan on his white ass.
 
 VI 
 
 FROM that day, as the Doctor had prom- 
 ised, his white ass came often along the 
 sands to Ardevora. No rain fell in Febru- 
 ary ; very little in March ; next to nothing 
 in April ; and again none in May. " A hot 
 May makes a fat church-hay. " By the mid- 
 dle of the month diphtheria had settled to 
 its work in the lower part of the town, 
 among the alleys that the folk called 
 "Down-along; " and killed, and went on 
 killing. 
 
 The folk were slow in taking fright. It 
 was May-morning that first woke them up 
 to the truth. On that day the children dress 
 up garlands of flowers, looping them with 
 strings of painted birds' eggs; and carry 
 them from door to door and beg for pennies. 
 There were very few garlands this year. One 
 or two people wondered why, and asked. 
 
 Still for some time they attended the 
 Round-house as usual those, at least, who 
 had no children sick at home. But before
 
 68 I A 
 
 the end of May these families made not 
 much more than half the congregation. And 
 then there began to be much talk of infec- 
 tion. 
 
 One day the Doctor came down the mid- 
 dle of the street, leading his ass and looking 
 serious ; and happened on Joel Spargo sit- 
 ting on a doorstep in Down-along with 
 Widow Toms' fifth child a four-year-old 
 maid on his knee. The little one was cry- 
 ing, and Joel doing his best to soothe her. 
 No longer ago than Christmas there had 
 been two sisters and two brothers to invent 
 games for her ; and now only Tryphena, 
 the eldest, was left. 'Liza had gone in Feb- 
 ruary, and Caffy (Calvin) in the first week 
 of May, and Billy they had buried that very 
 afternoon. Her mother was crying for him 
 upstairs. Small Bathsheba wept bitterly on 
 Joel's knee. 
 
 " Poor mite ! " said the Doctor, halting 
 in the middle of the street. 
 
 "But what do 'ee think her's cryin' 
 for ? " answered Joel. " Why, because there 
 was no saffern cake to-day, same as when 
 Lizzie and Caffy was buried; and her says 
 Billy's funeral wasn' no proper one at all ! " 
 
 "H'm!" Dr. Hammer pulled out a
 
 A LOVE STORY 69 
 
 penny, and told the child to rim and buy a 
 saffron bun. " So Widow Toms has no 
 money to buy saffron ? ' ' He stood silent 
 for a moment, frowning in his heavy way. 
 "I want a word with you, Spargo. You're 
 a bachelor, with a house of your own ? ' ' 
 
 " That's it, Doctor. A three-room cot- 
 tage right atop o' the hill." 
 ' ' You keep house alone ? ' ' 
 Joel nodded. " Ever since mother died. 
 She an' father lived in it all their lives. 
 'Tis too big for me ; but 'tis my own, an' so 
 I live there." 
 
 "I'm going to share it with you for a few 
 weeks. Things are serious here." 
 " Kindly welcome, Doctor." 
 "Run up, then, and heat the kettle for 
 me, while I step down to the General Wolfe 
 and stall the jackass. To-morrow you shall 
 take him over to Laregan and fetch some 
 medicines." 
 
 By the time Dr. Hammer found his way 
 to the cottage, Joel had the kettle boiling 
 and a cup of tea prepared. But the Doctor 
 carried off all that was left in the kettle to 
 the inner room, and spent some time in 
 washing his hands, so that the tea was over- 
 drawn when he sat down to it.
 
 70 I A 
 
 ' ' Is the French croup worse, Doctor ? ' ' 
 
 " It is; and yet the French croup is not 
 the worst." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, sir." 
 
 " You have heard that John Trewhella 
 was taken worse last night, down in Street- 
 an-Pol?" 
 
 " I heard some talk of it, on the quay 
 this mornin'. He's been ailin' for days." 
 
 "I'd come straight from him when I 
 spoke to you just now. I called in again on 
 my way up here. I'd used up all the water 
 in their kettle, the first time, and they hadn't 
 refilled it. I think water and fuel are both 
 getting scarce with them." 
 
 " I know they're short of water, down 
 there." 
 
 " How are the wells holding out, here on 
 the hill?" 
 
 " Pretty fair, considerin' the long dryth. 
 But what is it down at Trewhella's, sir? Is 
 it infectious? " 
 
 " It is typhus." 
 
 Joel had never seen a case of typhus. 
 But he had heard it talked about by men 
 who had travelled and seen it ; and its name, 
 falling from the Doctor's lips, scared him
 
 A LOVE STORY 71 
 
 to an extent that we, perhaps, can hardly 
 realise. Happily, typhus is rare no\v, 
 and grows rarer. In those days it was all 
 too common, especially in large sea-port 
 towns. 
 
 "What is the fishing like, just now?" 
 Dr. Hammer asked, lighting his pipe and 
 seeming to change the subject. 
 
 "Very slight, sir. It's been slight all 
 the year. Most o' the boats are coming 
 back empty from the herrin's ; and home 
 here the trawls be doin' naught naught 
 but a few flounders. As for the mackerel, 
 there's not been a real catch this spring." 
 
 " The people are in want, I take it ? " 
 
 " A good few, sir. They want the mack- 
 erel badly, to tide 'em over to July an' the 
 pilchards. Even hake be as scarce as nug- 
 gets." 
 
 " H'm 1 " The Doctor smoked on for a 
 minute or two, and then asked : "Do you 
 know of any woman or maid in Ardevora 
 who could help me, these next few weeks, 
 with the nursing? Mind, I don't want one 
 who thinks she knows all about it ; but one 
 that's strong and handy, and that'll ask no 
 questions, but stand on her head if I tell her 
 to do so."
 
 72 I A 
 
 "There's Aun' Mary Johns, the wise- 
 woman." 
 
 " The wise fiddle-stick ! " 
 
 " Selina Jago " 
 
 "A dolt! " 
 
 " Mary Maria Bunney " 
 
 "A cake! " 
 
 " Peter Medlicoat's wife " 
 
 " A lump of a woman ! Try the maids. ' ' 
 
 "There's Minnie Polsue." 
 
 " Strong enough, but no head." 
 
 " 'Bias Hendra's daughter." 
 
 " Doesn't know B from a bull's foot ! I 
 want one that can read the labels on my 
 physic, if only to give it a chance. What 
 about that girl of Rosemundy's? She looks 
 to be capable. Can she read ? ' ' 
 
 " la ? But typhus, Doctor ! You wouldn't 
 set a girl like that " 
 
 "Dear me! " said Dr. Hammer, taking 
 the pipe from his lips and regarding Joel 
 with lively interest. "But, as it happens, 
 'tis with the diphtherite cases I want help, 
 while I look after the others myself. ' '
 
 VII 
 
 " So you'm Asenath's daughter well-a- 
 well fine I can mind her. Eighty-odd 
 year I be, my dears eighty-two or eighty- 
 three ; you've only to step over to Wen- 
 dron parish, an the register '11 tell 'ee 
 whether 'tis eighty-two or eighty-three. 
 Why, your mother Asenath Asenath Cara 
 brought her man over here, same as you'm 
 bringin' yours. They gave the word to 
 each other here over the Noon Water, an' I 
 joined mun wi' this very ring. They went 
 down to Ardevora to live, an' there, I sup- 
 pose, were made man an' wife by Holy 
 Church. Packman Oliver passed this way 
 the day before yestiddy, an' he told me 
 there was a lot of sickness down to Arde- 
 vora. ' ' 
 
 " 'Tis the French croup, Aunt." * 
 
 * Elderly people in the West are familiarly ad- 
 dressed as " Uncle " or " Aunt."
 
 74 I A 
 
 " That's bad then ; there's no charm agen 
 that, not that ever I heard tell." 
 
 Paul and la stood barefoot on the reedy 
 turf beside Noon Water a tributary of the 
 river that ran, nine miles away, by Revyer 
 Round-house, the river on which the two 
 had embarked together that night in Feb- 
 ruary. 
 
 They stood in the heart of a moorland 
 desolate, hedgeless, dotted only with peat- 
 ricks and a few unroofed sheep-cotes or 
 bougees. It rolled, apparently, right away 
 to the sea that rimmed it on three sides ; 
 but, as a matter of fact, under the rim of the 
 moorland, and unseen from its centre, lay 
 busy fishing towns and havens. 
 
 Behind them, on the fourth side which 
 was the eastern a high and barren hill rose 
 between them and that civilisation which is 
 England. On its round summit a few 
 hummocks stood clear against the blue 
 sky. There were the remains of a Roman 
 camp. 
 
 In a one-roomed hut, half-way down the 
 side of this hill, whence Roman sentinels 
 had once kept look-out for sails bound from 
 the Cassiterides, lived Aunt Alse, and medi- 
 tated spells older than the Caesars. The
 
 A LOVE STORY 75 
 
 spring that welled out of the hill, a stone's 
 throw below her cottage, was older yet. 
 And the errand on which Paul and la had 
 come was oldest of all. 
 
 Paul wore a sailor's cap, a blue jersey, 
 and trousers of shabby blue sea-cloth tucked 
 up in three folds above his white ankles. 
 The garments belonged to Joel Spargo 
 poor Joel ! and were, in fact, his foul- 
 weather suit, left on board the Rosemundys' 
 boat. la had borrowed them without ask- 
 ing, and Paul had donned them, three hours 
 ago, inside the Witch's Crown. 
 
 " White hands an' white ankles ; an' what 
 might your trade be, my dear ? But there," 
 the old woman went on, " 'tisn' mine to 
 ax questions. Whoever you be, Holy 
 Church can't take away the girl's right to 
 'ee once you gi'e her the word over Noon 
 Water. Asenath's daughter knows that, 
 though the new race o' maidens be forget - 
 tin' it. Step across, young man. You 
 don't happen to have a chaw o' baccy in 
 your pocket ? Well, never mind ; but I 
 dearly loves a chaw o' baccy. Step across 
 an' stand wi' your feet in tlv water so. 
 Now, my dear, you stand 'pon thicky side, 
 an' gi'e 'n your left hand your left in his
 
 76 I A 
 
 right that's it ; now take the ring here an' 
 hand it across to 'n that's right." 
 
 The ring now given into Paul's hand was 
 a band of pale yellow gold, rough on the 
 outside and crusted with dirt, and a little 
 broader than an ordinary wedding ring. 
 
 "Saracen's gold, honey, an' dug by 
 Sheba's men out o' these very hills. The 
 floods o' Deva bain't older 'n that there 
 ring. Now say after me but tell thy 
 name first." 
 
 "Paul Heathcote." 
 
 " Say ' Paul Heathcote, over this 
 water' " 
 
 ' ' Paul Heathcote, over this -water " 
 
 " ' Takes ' say her name " 
 
 " Takes la Rosemundy" 
 
 " ' Over this water, to be his an' his 
 only'" 
 
 " Over this water, to be his and his 
 only" 
 
 " ' To have no other, an' to follow no 
 other, so long as this water shall run. ' ' 
 
 " To have no other, and to follow no other, 
 so long as this water shall run. ' ' 
 
 "Now 'tis the maid's turn." In her 
 turn la gave the word. " Slip the ring on 
 her ringer, an' say ' Amen.' That's all ; an'
 
 A LOVE STORY 77 
 
 now you can come out o' the water. But 
 hand me back the ring, an' don't drop it, 
 or else you'll be unlucky. Tell me some 
 more about the sickness down to Ardevora." 
 
 But Paul had taken la's hand again, and 
 was examining the ring on her finger. 
 
 " What will you take for it ? " he asked. 
 
 ' Money won't buy it," said Aunt Alse. 
 " "Tis older than the floods o' Deva, that 
 there ring. ' ' 
 
 But finally she parted with it for three 
 pounds, which Paul counted out. 
 
 "I'm an old body an 1 few sweethearts 
 come now to Noon Water. Hundreds have 
 worn the ring, first an' last ; but you can 
 have it, an' may it bring 'ee luck ! I won- 
 der, now, you chose May month to come 
 here 
 
 ' Marry in May, 
 Rue for aye.' " 
 
 ' Oh, dear ! " cried la dolefully, pausing 
 as she laced her shoes. "An' I clean for- 
 got." 
 
 But Paul had his fill of superstitions for 
 the time. He led la away towards Arde- 
 vora. The old woman stood and looked af- 
 ter them, and then at the gold in her palm.
 
 78 I A 
 
 " None o' my business," she said to her- 
 self. " Packman Oliver told me his name, 
 day before yestiddy. Laws ! I do hope no- 
 body '11 come an' murder me for all thicky 
 gold." 
 
 She climbed up to the hut and shut her 
 door with a terror she had never yet known. 
 
 Paul and la walked for a mile, neither 
 speaking a word. la was the shy one now ; 
 and Paul she had taught Paul's heart to 
 beat fast in her presence, or he had never 
 come with her to Noon Water. They had 
 plans. Paul would go for a holiday to 
 Bristol, and live in lodgings there for the 
 time sufficient to get a marriage license. 
 And one day, while Ardevora supposed them 
 to be away at the fishery, la and her father 
 would sail up Bristol river. At a fitting sea- 
 son their marriage would be made public. 
 But just now it would injure his prospects, 
 perhaps destroy them. Elder Carbines, for 
 instance, would be furious. And the Elder 
 had a great plan in his head ; a plan so 
 magnificent that he had as yet hardly gone 
 beyond whispering it, even to Paul. 
 
 In the shelter of the next ridge the lovers 
 sat down by Noon Water and ate the pasties
 
 A LOVE STORY 79 
 
 that la had brought with her in a white nap- 
 kin. They had no cup; but Paul, kneeling 
 by the brink, took up water in the hollow of 
 his hands, and held it out to la. And she 
 bent her head and drank, blushing beauti- 
 fully.
 
 VIII 
 
 " So it's, Dearest dry your tears 
 And banish all your fears, 
 Sure as man and wife we be, 
 
 You shall hear the drums an' the trumpets sound 
 in High German-y ! " 
 
 IA came along the road from the Towans, 
 that evening, in the glory of the sunset, 
 singing to herself. Over on Gulland Point 
 the lighthouse stood up like a pillar of bur- 
 nished gold. A fish-jowter overtook and 
 passed her, driving home his empty cart at 
 a gallop ; the dust he flung up was a halo of 
 gold. Ardevora lay in the purple shadow 
 of the peninsula, a fairy town on a fairy 
 shore. O blithe new and most wonderful 
 world ! Her heart sang like a bird within 
 her as she kissed the ring on her finger 
 
 " You shall hear the drums an' the trumpets sound 
 in High German-y ! " 
 
 She kissed the ring again, slipped it off 
 her finger and into her pocket.
 
 A LOVE STORY 81 
 
 On a triangle of dusty turf at the entrance 
 of the town a handful of children were play- 
 ing Three Dukes a-riding. la halted and 
 watched them, she hardly knew why. 
 Scores of times she had played the game as 
 a child ; but now she seemed to see into the 
 heart of each child playing. O world, most 
 new and wonderful ! 
 
 " Come back, come back ! you Spanish Knight, 
 An' clean your spurs, they be not bright." 
 
 " My spurs are bright as rickety rock,* 
 And in this town they were not bought, 
 And in this town they shan't be sold 
 Neither for silver, copper, nor gold, 
 
 So fare 'ee well, my lady gay. . . ." 
 
 A small six-year-old girl stood on the far 
 edge of the green, with flushed face and 
 heavy eyes. She watched the play, but 
 took no part in it. The Dukes chanted 
 
 " We've brought your daughter safe and sound, 
 An' in her pocket a thousand pound, 
 An' on her finger a gay gold ring, 
 So don't refuse to take her in. . . ." 
 
 "la! la Rosemundy ! " One of the 
 elder girls ran up. " Come an' look at 
 
 * = " and richly wrought."
 
 82 I A 
 
 Susie Treleaven. Us dunno what's wrong 
 wi' her. Her face is all queer, an" she 
 can't answer us ! " 
 
 She hurried across the green. The little 
 one stood there with a pitiful, bewildered 
 look, her breath corning shortly and painful- 
 ly, la caught her up in her arms and began 
 to run towards the town. 
 
 As she ran, a cold shiver took her and 
 scattered her happy visions. She heard the 
 children pattering after her. She saw the 
 steep, narrow street, the rickety houses, the 
 buckets of refuse festering in the causeway. 
 She smelt the familiar odours of fish-offal and 
 rotting sea-weed. But another odour was 
 there an evil, sickly odour ; and a pale 
 fear met her on the causeway and filled the 
 side-streets like a mist. So real, so tangible, 
 it seemed, that twice she had almost un- 
 clasped an arm from her burden to ward the 
 foul thing off. 
 
 At the upper end of Down-along she ran 
 against Dr. Hammer, who was mounting the 
 hill slowly, with his hands behind his back, 
 and talking with Joel Spargo. 
 
 "Doctor, Doctor " 
 
 "Hullo! I see, I see. Hold the child 
 so, a moment head a bit farther back "
 
 A LOVE STORY 83 
 
 He drew a small flat silver instrument from 
 his waistcoat pocket and slipped it between 
 the little one's jaws. The tonsils were 
 swollen, and one had a grey patch on it. 
 
 " Take her to her mother's as fast as you 
 can, and put her straight to bed. I'll be 
 there in less than five minutes. And don't 
 leave the house till I come, for I have some- 
 thing to say to you. ' '
 
 IX 
 
 AN hour later, Dr. Hammer knocked at 
 the Rosemundys' door. Their cottage stood 
 in the same street as Joel's, a stone's throw 
 down the hill. Little Jenifer opened to him. 
 
 "Your sister wants you to make up one 
 or two bits of clothes in a bundle." He 
 held a scrap of paper in his hand, and read 
 out the short list. " I'll take it to her. 
 Tell your father when he comes home that 
 she's down nursing the sick, an' maybe you 
 won't see her for a week or two. And he's 
 to keep you indoors as much as possible 
 mind that ; and if you go out, it's to be up 
 the hill and alone : never down into the 
 town, on any account." 
 
 The next few weeks were dull for Jenifer. 
 She sat at the window mostly. The Doctor 
 and Joel passed up and down often, and Joel 
 never missed to give her a nod and a smile. 
 And sometimes perhaps twice or thrice a 
 day a woman would run by the window, 
 on her way to Joel's cottage, with head bare,
 
 A LOVE STORY 85 
 
 clutching a child to her breast. Jenifer knew 
 most of the children had played with many 
 of them, and longed to know what the Doc- 
 tor said, and if he cured them. But her 
 father, when she asked, never seemed to 
 know for certain. la was different : la 
 would have told her. 
 
 The epidemic reached its height in the 
 last week of June ; and after that the wom- 
 en ran by the window more rarely. Some 
 still ran. But Jenifer decided that the worst 
 was over, and that la would soon be home 
 again. She began to want la sorely. For 
 one thing, there was never as much to eat 
 now as there had used to be. Her father 
 was always forgetting to bring home proper 
 food. la had never forgotten. 
 
 One night a glare on the window woke 
 her up in bed. Somebody had lit a bonfire 
 in the Lower Town. While she watched, 
 another glare started up a little to the right 
 of the first. At first Jenifer thought these 
 must be the usual Midsummer fires. But 
 then she remembered that Midsummer was 
 past. She could not see the flames, but the 
 glare lasted till dawn. After this, scarcely 
 a night passed without one fire or more in 
 the Lower Town.
 
 86 1 A 
 
 For as the diphtheria dwindled, the more 
 horrible typhus grew and spread. July 
 dragged itself out, and still no rain fell, or 
 but two small thunder-showers. The wells 
 were dry, and the people starving. News 
 of the town's condition had spread far and 
 wide towards the end of June, and the 
 country people came no more to market. 
 The trading-ketch from Penzance put in no 
 more on Tuesdays and Saturdays. But, in- 
 deed, the people lacked money to buy food. 
 Day after day they climbed the heights and 
 scanned the sea for the pilchards, now long 
 overdue; but no pilchards came. In those 
 days nine families out of ten in Ardevora 
 had much ado to make both ends of the 
 year meet. February found little in the 
 cupboard. The mackerel brought relief 
 with the spring ; but their harvest arrived 
 late in June or early in July, with the pilch- 
 ards : 
 
 " Meat, money, and light, 
 All in one night 
 
 and a store to carry them through the 
 winter. 
 
 So day after day through July Ardevora 
 watched the sea for succour, and the sky for
 
 A LOVE STORY 87 
 
 rain. Half a dozen times it woke to find 
 the sun muffled in soft grey clouds, and the 
 people said : " Rain at last ! " But always 
 before ten in the morning a beam broke 
 through, and the grey turned to a milky 
 white and vanished, and the hard blue 
 stretched overhead once more. Or a vio- 
 let thunder-cloud rose on the sea's hori- 
 zon, and, coming up against the wind, 
 passed over the town to break elsewhere. 
 Or white cumuli piled themselves on the 
 inland hills and tumbled about their sum- 
 mits all day, and then lazily withdrew. All 
 this while every weathercock in the town 
 stuck in the south-east ; but no wind blew, 
 except a faint off-shore draught towards 
 evening, when the people sat in their door- 
 ways and drew long breaths. At nightfall 
 in one garden or another would begin the 
 burning of infected linen and household 
 stuff. These were the fires that Jenifer saw 
 from her window. 
 
 In the first week of July five : in the sec- 
 ond, twelve : in the third, eighteen ; thus 
 the death-rate mounted, and these were 
 deaths from typhus alone. On the fourth 
 Sunday morning the doors of the church re- 
 mained locked. The Vicar was an old man
 
 88 I A 
 
 a pluralist, who lived six miles from Ar- 
 devora, in a parish which protested against 
 his bringing home infection. Ardevora was 
 left to bury its dead, and came to Paul to 
 perform the last rites. 
 
 For Paul stuck to his post. '-'He has 
 courage, that young man," said the Doctor, 
 who had lately made his acquaintance; 
 " and he has self-esteem and brains. I 
 wonder how he reconciles them with that 
 crack-headed faith of his." 
 
 The services in Revyer Round-house had 
 ceased ; but visits to the sick and burials 
 gave Paul plenty of work. There was talk 
 that in a short while the dead would have to 
 be buried in a common pit. 
 
 Over at Revyer, old Baragwanath the 
 boat-builder heard of this, and at once set 
 about making a coffin for his wife. She was 
 in good health as yet, but he told Paul : 
 " This kind of work bein" new to me, costes 
 me some time. If aught should happen to 
 the old woman, I won't risk dependin' on a 
 carpenter, who may be sick hissel', for all 
 we can foresee." 
 
 The services had ceased in Revyer Round- 
 house; but one Saturday Paul asked the 
 Doctor if there would be any danger in his
 
 A LOVE STORY 89 
 
 assembling the Saints under the open air 
 and addressing them. 
 
 "If you speak sense and comfort, you 
 will do more good than harm. Remember, 
 their bodies and spirits are brought low 
 enough. What would you say if I attended 
 and gave them a few words of temporal ad- 
 vice at the same time ? ' '
 
 X 
 
 WORD went round. Next day, at about 
 three in the afternoon, a company of three 
 hundred and more assembled on the Island. 
 There they seated themselves on the 
 scorched grass -slope, "parterre by parterre," 
 like the multitude in the Gospel ; the wom- 
 en's kerchiefs gay as ever, and the whole 
 effect more than ever like that of raying 
 tulip-beds ; for these children of tradition 
 instinctively reproduced the old arrange- 
 ment of Revyer Round-house, and formed 
 a rough circle round the hummock on which 
 Paul stood, with the Doctor at his elbow. 
 A few held up umbrellas against the sun. 
 Below them the air quivered over Ardevora; 
 beyond, the waters of the bay glanced and 
 sparkled. Only in strained faces and 
 sunken eyes could you read that these men 
 and women and children stood in direr need 
 of loaves and fishes than did the crowd by 
 the Sea of Galilee. When all were seated, 
 Paul gave out the first verse of the Old Hun- 
 dredth, and they sang it together.
 
 A LOVE STORY 91 
 
 Then the Doctor spoke to them. His 
 manner was curt and sharp. " My friends, 
 you are in a mess. You have to accept that, 
 and behave with sense and courage. It has 
 come upon you chiefly through your own 
 folly. I will tell you how. Then I hope to 
 draw a lesson or two for present and future 
 use." 
 
 He told them first of the diphtheria 
 (" diphtherite " or "French croup," he 
 called it) ; how for three years, from 1855 
 to 1857, it had ravaged France; and how it 
 had crossed the Channel. "lam talking 
 of the seed of disease. It is you who pre- 
 pared a midden-heap for it to sprout on." 
 He spoke of spendthrift landlords, careless 
 civic life, unsavoury housekeeping; of over- 
 crowded courts, polluted wells, filth on the 
 quay, in the streets, and at home. He spoke 
 particularly, giving names. He took the 
 typhus, and traced it from house to house, 
 alley to alley ; in each place pointing out 
 some predisposing cause, how it started in 
 Street-an-Pol, how it spread to Jane Mellin's 
 house in Harmony Rents, why it raged in 
 Chypons. From the pestilence he passed to 
 the famine ' Predisposing causes, again." 
 He touched on the fishermen's earnings and
 
 92 I A 
 
 short-sighted expenditure. He then wound 
 up a few words of severely practical advice 
 with this peroration 
 
 " You are a dolt-headed people; but your 
 hearts are better than your heads. I have 
 wintered you and summered you. I was 
 looking over my books last Christmas, and 
 find I have helped an amazing number of 
 you into the world. Since I can't help lik- 
 ing you, I wish to go on and help you 
 through it. There is an old woman's tale 
 that in the cradle of every third man-child 
 born in Ardevora you will find a sea-shell, 
 showing the death that waits for him soon or 
 late. That is foolishness, of course. But 
 the sea takes heavy toll of you. Many times 
 when I have seen women crying on the quay- 
 end for their drowned husbands, I have 
 wondered why, since the sea is so hard, you 
 men should not get a compensating amount 
 of happiness out of the part of life you spend 
 ashore. I have heard that people call me a 
 woman -hating Doctor. I will tell you more 
 about that when you show me a clean and 
 brightly-kept home in Ardevora." 
 
 When the Doctor ceased, Paul opened his 
 Bible and read aloud 
 
 ' ' He that divelleth in the secret place of
 
 A LOVE STORY 93 
 
 the Most High shall abide under the shadow 
 of the Almighty. 
 
 " 1 will say of the Lord, He is my refuge 
 and my fortress : my God ; in Him will I 
 trust. 
 
 " Surely He shall deliver thee from the 
 snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pes- 
 tilence. . . ." 
 
 "Now where did he get that voice?" 
 the Doctor asked himself. 
 
 " Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror 
 by night ; nor for the arrow that flieth by 
 day ; 
 
 " Nor for the pestilence that walketh in 
 darkness ; nor for the destruction that wast- 
 eth at noonday. 
 
 ' ' A thousand shall fall at thy side, and 
 ten thousand at thy right hand ; but it shall 
 not come nigh thee. 
 
 %. .; ;jj Jfc ^c : 
 
 " Because he hath set his love upon Me, 
 therefore will I deliver him : I will set him 
 on high, because he hath known My name. 
 
 ' ' He shall call upon Me, and I will an- 
 swer him " 
 
 Paul closed the book and knelt on the 
 hillock for a space, praying in silence, sur- 
 rounded by silence. Then he rose, and gave
 
 94 I A 
 
 out his text: "Isaiah, thirty-two, second 
 verse ' And a man shall be as an hiding- 
 place from the wind, and a covert from the 
 tempest ; as rivers of water in a dry place, 
 as the shadow of a great rock in a weary 
 land:" 
 
 " Come, that's not so bad," thought the 
 Doctor; " I was afraid he'd play on their 
 terrors; " and', after a minute, " But, hulloa ! 
 why, this is genius ! " He scanned the 
 people's faces. This was the first time he 
 had heard Paul preach. The Saints had this 
 advantage, that they recognised the note a 
 note of confidence in God's Fatherly good- 
 ness, as childlike now and unshaken in the 
 midst of pestilence and famine as it had been 
 on that first Sabbath morning in Revyer 
 Round-house. Having tested its constancy, 
 they had more reason to trust it. 
 
 " Those that be planted in the house of 
 the Lord shall flourish in the courts of 
 God." Paul turned the doctrine of Elec- 
 tion to his hearers' comfort. He spoke as 
 one who had never questioned that doctrine 
 for a moment. " We are the Elect. But 
 evil has crept in amongst us. God is purg- 
 ing us, and will stay His hand in His good 
 time." Once more : " ' He that d \velleth in
 
 A LOVE STORY 95 
 
 the secret place of the Most High shall abide 
 under the shadow of the Almighty.' A 
 shadow for the true Elect ! The shadow of 
 a great rock in a weary land ! " 
 
 And the Doctor, scanning their faces, 
 saw the conviction work. For the moment, 
 on the glittering, harvestless sea their eyes 
 beheld the shadow of God's goodness pro- 
 jected ; saw it coming as plainly as if it had 
 been that purplish moving tint by which the 
 huers descry a pilchard-school. They broke 
 out into sobs and cries of " Amen." 
 
 On the other edge of the crowd la sat and 
 heard. Since that day spent by Noon Wa- 
 ter she had not spoken with Paul, except 
 once or twice beside a sick-bed. In this 
 while she had begun to pass through the 
 greatest change that women undergo ; dur- 
 ing days of overwork and long night- 
 watches ; always in the presence of suffer- 
 ing and terror. 
 
 To-day she had no longer that uneasy 
 puzzled feeling which had vexed her, 
 months before, in Revyer Round-house. 
 God had suddenly become real. And 
 Paul, too, had become real and quite com- 
 prehensible. When he spoke of God she 
 saw God clearly. Without knowing why,
 
 96 I A 
 
 she felt her whole body hot and aglow with 
 happiness. 
 
 But the Doctor was puzzled. After the 
 service, as he walked down to Ardevora, he 
 muttered to himself 
 
 " Great-grandmother was Cornish. Queer 
 things that mixture of blood does produce, 
 to be sure. Capable; but queer always 
 queer. Seemed to believe all the rubbish 
 he talked a prig lacks feeling, somehow. 
 Yet what fervour ! And, bless my soul, 
 what a talent ! " 
 
 An hour or two later Paul happened to 
 pass through Down-along. The Widow 
 Toms was sitting in her doorway for the 
 sake of the evening breeze. 
 
 " How is little Bathsheba to-night? " he 
 asked. 
 
 The woman stared at him for a second or 
 two before collecting her thoughts. 
 
 "Doctor says she's better. Took it 
 milder 'n the others. la Rosemundy's up- 
 stairs 'tendin' her." 
 
 " May I see the child? " 
 
 "Eh? Aw, of course of course ! Step 
 up, sir, an' welcome." 
 
 Paul climbed the stair ladder. In the 
 twilit room above la came towards him.
 
 A LOVE STORY 97 
 
 " Hush ! She's just dropped asleep. 
 Listen to her breathin'." 
 
 "She will recover. The one plague, at 
 any rate, is lightening." 
 
 " Dear," she whispered, " you spoke beau- 
 tiful to-day. Do 'ee really believe it ? that 
 
 if the folks had faith ' ' 
 
 " I believe it, for the Bible says so. If 
 one in Ardevora had faith but as a grain of 
 mustard seed, this plague would be stayed." 
 "Then I'll ha' that faith, dear. See 
 here." She put a hand in her bosom and 
 drew out a paper, tied round her neck with 
 a string. She broke the string, and handed 
 the paper to Paul. 
 
 He took it to the window, unfolded it, 
 and read 
 
 "JEHOVAH 
 JAH ELOIIIM 
 SHADDAY 
 ADONAY 
 HAVE MERCY ON MEE A WOMAN." 
 
 "I've a- worn it all through the infection. 
 Now, don't 'ee be angry. Tear it up. I'll 
 do without it. I will, though I shan't feel 
 safe first along. But I'll ha' faith. I will 
 ha' faith ! " 
 
 The head of the Widow Toms appeared 
 7
 
 98 I A 
 
 above the stairs. She was followed by the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "H'm! sleeping; that's good." The 
 Doctor glanced at la, who turned and bent 
 over the bed. Something in her manner 
 made him look sharply towards the window, 
 where Paul stood crushing the torn paper in 
 his fingers. 
 
 The Doctor touched the child's pulse, 
 listened to her breathing, and whispered a 
 few instructions to la. 
 
 " Too many of us here," he said. " She 
 will pull through now, if she has sleep and 
 fresh air." He walked to the door, and, at 
 a sign, Paul went with him downstairs. 
 
 " I have to thank you, young man." 
 
 "Me, Doctor? " 
 
 Their voices came up through the ill-filled 
 planching. As she smoothed Bathsheba's 
 pillow, la heard them distinctly. 
 
 " For your sermon to-day. You gave the 
 people just what they needed ; and you gave 
 me, sir, an intellectual treat. Almost you 
 persuade me to become a Second Advent 
 Saint. But you won't be long in Ardevora. 
 Man, with care you've a great future. As 
 a beginning, here's Carbines coming down 
 the street to ask you to supper. ' '
 
 A LOVE STORY 99 
 
 " If he does, I'm afraid I cannot stay. I 
 eat supper at home with the Baragwanaths 
 on Sundays. Indeed, I'm late already." 
 
 la heard the Elder's greeting, heard the 
 invitation given and declined, the good- 
 nights said, and Paul's footsteps pass away 
 up the street. The other two lingered by 
 the door. 
 
 " That's a fine Preacher of yours, Elder. 
 He's too valuable to be staying here." 
 
 " As I've a-told 'n, over and over. ' Look 
 here,' I says, ' I packed my Bitha off 'pon 
 the first news o' the typhus ; an' it's just as 
 silly for you to be exposin' yourself.' You 
 see, Doctor, he's a kind of investment to us 
 Elect. 'Twould never do for 'n to take an' 
 die now, after what we've a-spent on 'n. 
 But 'tis a delicate matter to put to the 
 young man." 
 
 " There's other infection beside typhus." 
 
 "True; tho' I dunno what you mean, 
 unless it's the French croup ; an' that, you 
 tell me, is dyin' down." 
 
 "Well, he might be falling in love. That 
 wouldn't suit you, hey ? " 
 
 In the upper room la held her breath. 
 Then she stood up and walked across the 
 creaking planks, to prevent the voices strik-
 
 ioo I A 
 
 ing on the ear of Widow Toms. But Wid- 
 ow Toms sat on a stool beside her child's 
 bed, staring stupidly. 
 
 " No, no ; but there's no chance. There's 
 no maid here of his station, unless 'tis Bitha. 
 An' Bitha is away to Penzance. Not that 
 there was any sign o' that sort o' thing. As 
 the girl's father aw dear, yes, a man must 
 look after his own. But I be Chief Elder, 
 an' there's my duty to the whole body o" the 
 Elect pussonal feelin's to one side. I'll 
 tell 'ee something, Doctor : for 'twont be a 
 secret much longer " he lowered his voice, 
 and la caught a word or two only, here and 
 there " a big building ... up there 
 money can be raised." 
 
 " They'd better send it down here to fill 
 hungry bellies. ' ' 
 
 la could not hear the Elder's answer. 
 
 " Well," the Doctor went on, " get them 
 to send the call quick, and take him out of 
 harm's way. But, Elder, we must feed 
 these people somehow. I'm coming to you 
 to head a subscription list " 
 
 " To be sure : some day some day." 
 Mr. Carbines shook hands and hurried down 
 the street. Dr. Hammer looked after him 
 from the doorway with an ironical smile.
 
 A LOVE STORY 101 
 
 Somebody touched his elbow. It was la. 
 
 " Doctor," she demanded, " the croup is 
 lessening, isn't it ? " 
 
 " It is, girl. Please God, we've seen the 
 worst of that." 
 
 " Then I want you to let me nurse the 
 typhus cases. ' ' 
 
 "You don't know what you're asking, 
 my dear. 'Tis more contagious than the 
 other among grown people : and h'm ! 
 well, even Joel Spargo tells me that some- 
 times 'tis as much as he can do " 
 
 " Try me, please." 
 
 "H'm! I' 11 see about it." 
 
 " So she heard," said the Doctor after- 
 wards, to himself. " Well, I meant her to. 
 That sort of thing would never do ... 
 with his talents . . . Oh, decidedly I 
 did well."
 
 XI 
 
 BY the second week in August the typhus 
 had slain a hundred and thirty. Still no 
 pilchards came. One poor catch had been 
 made by a few drift-boats that had pushed 
 out some eight leagues into the open : but 
 the boats were undermanned, and the fam- 
 ine-weakened crews had to pull all the way 
 home under a burning sun and against faint 
 head-winds that dropped now and then to 
 absolute calm. Two men died on the 
 way: from heat-stroke or exhaustion, or 
 both. As for the coast, the fish had clean 
 deserted it. 
 
 It had come to this. Famine had the 
 people in a corner now, and was closing 
 for the last sharp tussle. Dr. Hammer 
 grimly chewing a straw, had leant against a 
 post on the quay and seen a crowd beleaguer 
 the Chief Elder's house, demanding bread : 
 and the trembling Chief Elder had tossed 
 them money in handfuls all the money in 
 the house while the Doctor thought of the
 
 A LOVE STORY 103 
 
 Subscription List, and grinned, and mur- 
 mured ' ' Bis dat qui eito dat. ' ' He had 
 bled his own estate at Laregan to the last 
 drop to help the people, and could do no 
 more till after harvest. 
 
 The people were in a corner, and must 
 break out or perish like sheep. Up on the 
 hill farms the farmers kept their shot-guns 
 loaded. But the Doctor and Paul had still 
 enough influence with the towns-folks to 
 prevent a general march-out and attack on 
 the countryside : though even this was de- 
 bated. 
 
 On the first Sunday in the month a wild- 
 fire panic ran through the town. Nobody 
 knew who started it : but the cry was, 
 "The boats! Take to the boats !" All 
 that day the lower streets were crowded with 
 folk carrying down their household stuff to 
 the quay, and the anchorage with boats 
 hurrying to and fro like bees. That night 
 thirty families lay aboard the fishing-vessels 
 at anchor. 
 
 Next day the exodus continued, and the 
 day after. But the disease followed and 
 struck them in the crowded boats as it had 
 struck them in the narrow streets. 
 
 It reached as far as Revyer. One evening,
 
 104 I A 
 
 Boat-builder Baragwanath finished the coffin, 
 called his wife out to the workshop to ad- 
 mire it and, having received her congratu- 
 lations, went to bed with an easy conscience. 
 Next morning he woke with a headache and 
 an "all-overish" feeling, as he called it, 
 which increased until the afternoon, when 
 his wife sent him back to bed. Three days 
 after, the typhus rash had developed. Dr. 
 Hammer had been called in on the second 
 day. Paul came for him. 
 
 " Stay here till I return," said the Doctor ; 
 and when he returned, it was with Paul's 
 box and portmanteau. "Joel Spargo will 
 give you a bed here," he said. " You are 
 not to go back." 
 
 Then he went down to Widow Toms for la. 
 
 " I am going to accept your offer, though 
 I feel myself a brute. The case is a bad 
 one, and too far away to be under my eye. 
 And the old woman is weak, tottering. It's 
 not pleasant, you understand. . . ." 
 
 la thanked him. She was quite ready. 
 
 Dr. Hammer went down to the General 
 Wolfe and saddled his white jackass. 
 
 " Will you ride ? that is, if you can keep 
 your balance ? ' ' 
 
 He had not shown so much politeness to
 
 A LOVE STORY 105 
 
 a woman for many years. She declined, 
 and they set off along the sands together, the 
 Doctor astride of Ernest William (for such 
 was the beast's absurd name) and la run- 
 ning beside, with the salt wind in her nos- 
 trils and her whole body tingling with pure 
 physical joy. 
 
 But after the first half-mile her breath 
 came short and fast, and her heart began to 
 thump in a very unusual manner. The 
 Doctor pulled up. 
 
 " Indoor life has put you out of condi- 
 tion," he said. 
 
 They walked the rest of the way. 
 
 " Rosemundy's gal . . . that's right 
 . . . keep her there . . . lock the door, 
 lock the door, I say ! . . . she's after the 
 Preacher . . . . lock the door, wife, and put 
 the shutter up .... she's after 'n . . . . 
 don't let her look out o' window .... 
 quick, there, quick! . . . ." 
 
 la was alone in the room with the old 
 boat-builder, when he lifted himself in bed 
 and screeched this out in his delirium. She 
 was diluting some salts of potash for a febri- 
 fuge : but set down glass and bottle sharply 
 and recoiled against the wall.
 
 106 I A 
 
 The patient sank back and began to 
 mutter. 
 
 She stepped to the bed and shook him 
 gently by the shoulder. 
 
 " Boat-builder boat-builder ! " 
 
 " Oh, ay " he began to mutter again. 
 
 "Boat-builder" she spoke sharply 
 " do you know me ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, ay Rosemundy's gal .... let 
 'n be now, co' !....' After this, more 
 muttering. 
 
 la sat down beside the bed, and thought. 
 
 The old man's ravings never came round 
 to this subject again. Indeed, they ceased 
 on the second day of her nursing, and were 
 merged in a continual low muttering. This 
 went on for four days, and then it, too, 
 ceased, and the old man lay on his back, 
 semi-comatose, his eyes half open, his body 
 (it seemed to la) constantly slipping towards 
 the bottom of the bed. He died on the 
 eleventh day after the typhus took him. 
 
 His old wife helped la to wash and lay 
 him out. She was very shaky, but bright- 
 eyed and practical as ever. 
 
 "Fifty-two year' he was husband to me, 
 my dear. The Lord brings all things to an 
 end. A bit foolish towards the last o' his
 
 A LOVE STORY 107 
 
 days, but always very thoughtful for me. 
 He shall have the coffin he made for me 
 he's a slight man, and failed terrible these 
 few days. We both thought to live to see 
 the Lord's Comin'. Well-a-well ! I'll step 
 down and make a dish o' tea." 
 
 While the two women sat at tea in the 
 kitchen, a horn sounded up the road. la 
 looked out and saw the travelling postman 
 coming. He called "Good-evening" to 
 her, and held up a letter. 
 
 She told him to set it down on a stone by 
 the garden-gate. 
 
 " How's the old man ? " he asked. 
 
 " He's gone." 
 
 " Dear now, I'm sorry to hear it." 
 
 The man climbed the hill again. la 
 stepped out and brought the letter into the 
 kitchen. It was addressed to " The Rev- 
 erend Paul Heathcote, Revyer, near Ar- 
 devora, Cornwall. ' ' She read this out. 
 
 " Better take it to 'n this evening. It 
 may be important," said Mrs. Baragwanath. 
 
 la looked up and caught her eye. 
 
 On a sudden impulse, the girl stretched 
 out both her hands. 
 
 " Mother, mother ! I've been good to 'ee 
 tell me what you know ! ' '
 
 io8 I A 
 
 " I was dusting his room one day," the 
 old woman began unsteadily, " an' I saw a 
 letter. 'Twos written to you leastway, 
 'twas only begun. I couldn' help lookin'. 
 But I've never told a soul only my man. 
 Deary, you won't hold 'n to it ? You'll let 
 'n go? He's the pride o' the Elect. It'll 
 make so much difference to 'n. An' a man's 
 love idn' worth so much after all not what 
 maids expect. I've been two-an' -fifty year' 
 married 'tis so much trouble as joy. You'll 
 giv 'n up, deary? " 
 
 "I can't, I dunno. Swear to me you'll 
 never tell another soul." 
 
 " It'll make so much difference to 'n ! " 
 
 " Swear to me ! I've been good to 'ee. 
 I've nursed your man. Swear to me!" 
 She caught the old woman by the shoulder. 
 
 " Don't hurt me, honey. I'll promise 
 on the Book, if you like " 
 
 la picked up the letter again, caught a 
 crust of bread off the table, ran out of doors, 
 and across the work-yard. She cast off the 
 Baragwanath'sboat from the landing, leaped 
 down into it and began to pull down in 
 the dusk towards the river bar. 
 
 Curiously, her brain was not occupied 
 with Paul. A sudden terror possessed her
 
 A LOVE STORY 109 
 
 that some evil had befallen her sister Jenifer. 
 It worked in her mind and half-crazed her. 
 
 Night came down on her as she crossed 
 the river bar. The boats off Ardevora hung 
 out their riding-lights, and she pulled across 
 the bay as though a life depended on her 
 pulling. When she turned her head the 
 lights loomed at her out of a hot haze. Her 
 breath came short and fast again, and again 
 that palpitation of the heart began. 
 
 " Star o 1 Bethlehem, ahoy ! " She easied 
 under the stern of the nearest lugger, and 
 hailed. 
 
 "Ahoy, there!" A dark figure leaned 
 over the taffrail. 
 
 " Is John Rosemundy in his boat ? " 
 
 " No, I reckon. He'll be up at home. 
 Hulloa 'tis Rosemundy's gal. How's the 
 boat-builder? " 
 
 " He's gone. Is father all right, do "ee 
 know ? an' Jenifer ? ' ' 
 
 " Iss, I b'lieve. Ha'n't heard no other. 
 So the boat-builder's gone? Well, I'm sorry 
 to hear it." 
 
 la pulled next for the quay, made her 
 boat fast, and ran through the moonlit streets 
 and up hill to her father's. The windows 
 were dark and the blinds drawn.
 
 no I A 
 
 She scraped a handful of dust and gravel 
 from the causeway, and threw it. In about 
 half a minute her father's window opened. 
 
 " Hulloa there ! What is it ? " 
 
 " Hush it's me la. How's Jenifer?" 
 
 " Middlin', I b'lieve. Leastways, she 
 was complainin' a bit afore bed-time." 
 
 " Nothin' like the croup? " 
 
 " Bless 'ee no. She've been goin' along 
 capital. You can't come in, I s'pose? " 
 
 " No : I've come from Revyer. Boat- 
 builder died this afternoon." 
 
 " You didn' bring along a crust o' bread, 
 hey?" 
 
 " Iss, I did. But there's the infec- 
 tion." 
 
 "I ha' n't ate nothin' for twelve hours 
 Jenifer had her supper all right. Toss it 
 up: I'll risk it." 
 
 la tossed up the crust, wished her father 
 good-night, and walked rapidly up hill, past 
 Joel Spargo's cottage, towards the western 
 cliffs. She wanted to think .... to 
 think it all out . . . 
 
 Shortly after daybreak Paul opened the 
 door of Joel's cottage and stepped into the 
 street. He had a towel in his hand and was
 
 A LOVE STORY in 
 
 setting out for a bathe. Across the cause- 
 way, in the sunlight, he saw la standing. 
 
 "A letter for you," she said. " It came 
 to Revyer last night. Better fetch some 
 sulphur." 
 
 "Nevermind the infection." He took 
 it out of her hand and broke the seal. 
 
 " It is coming," she said to herself. 
 
 Paul stood in the causeway and read the 
 letter through : folded it up : frowned : 
 opened and read it again. " Can you walk 
 a little way with me ? I have something to 
 tell you." 
 
 " It is coming," she said again to herself.
 
 XII 
 
 THEY walked side by side along the 
 ridge above the town, and out towards the 
 furthest point of the Island. A ruined sea- 
 mark stood there : a hollow column, broken 
 short by some long-past gale to the height 
 of twenty feet, with a tumble-down spiral 
 stairway inside, and over the door a defaced 
 inscription " To the Glory of God and for 
 the Protection of Commerce and Safety of 
 Manners . . . by the Corporation of the 
 Trinity House of Deptford Strand. . . . 
 MDCC. . . . ." The rest of the date had 
 perished. 
 
 On the north-west side of the column, in 
 the shade, and out of sight of any strollers 
 on the Island, Paul chose a seat and drew 
 the letter from his pocket. la sat down 
 also, at a little distance. 
 
 " You will not guess what this says." 
 
 She nodded her head slowly. " Maybe I 
 do." 
 
 "It's a call. Carbines told me some-
 
 A LOVE STORY 113 
 
 thing about it a week since. They are 
 building a great place for me up in London 
 I ought to say, they talk of building 
 and they want me up there at once to dis- 
 cuss it. Carbines has been writing about 
 me." 
 
 " You will go," she said. " Soon? " 
 
 As she asked she remembered the Doctor's 
 words, " Get them to send him a call quick, 
 and take him out of harm's way." 
 
 "To-day, I expect. But I must have a 
 talk with Carbines. I might get the van 
 from the General Wolfe to take me over to 
 Four Lanes this evening, and pick up the 
 coach ' ' 
 
 So soon ! She bent her head and plucked 
 at the wild thyme in the turf. 
 
 " It is a great chance the chance of a 
 lifetime. How good they are to me, these 
 people!" His blue eyes glistened. "la 
 dear, are you sorry ? ' ' 
 
 " I am sorry. But I wouldn' have it 
 other." 
 
 "As soon as ever this is settled, I will 
 write. We will arrange to meet and be 
 married at Bristol, as we planned." She 
 was looking at him steadily now. " It will 
 be easy for me," he went on, " to slip down 
 8
 
 U4 I A 
 
 there from London ; and less chance of any- 
 body guessing than if we both started from 
 the same place. Then, when the time 
 comes ' ' 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I was saying, when the time comes ' ' 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Dear, I don't understand." 
 
 "Ah, no ! But I have thought thought 
 for many days and now I know, sweet- 
 heart, I have done wrong. But you shan't 
 suffer by it : 'tisn't too late to stop that. 
 Go, an' God's love an' mine go with 'ee. 
 But thy ways be not my ways, an' my place 
 is here wi' my people." 
 
 "But la after all that has happened! 
 And I can't do without you ! " He tried to 
 draw her closer. 
 
 " The good of you to say it ! The happy 
 to hear! " She threw her head back and 
 searched his face. A word yet to speak and 
 he was hers bound to her for ever. She 
 would not speak it. But would he guess ? 
 Would God send the miracle ? 
 
 God sent no miracle for her. She loos- 
 ened Paul's hand from her wrist. "But it 
 isn' true. 'Twouldn' be true, not if you 
 came back in ten vcars' time an' said it. I
 
 A LOVE STORY 115 
 
 be no fit wife for 'ee, an' you know it : but 
 a woman to marry on the sly, too ignorant 
 to help, an' a burden to 'ee all your days ! 
 Dear, I've got my pride so well as you. 
 I've a-loved 'ee, these months, straight brow 
 an' joyful heart. I'll never love thee other, 
 and you will do me shame to wish it." 
 
 She stood up and leaned an arm against 
 the wall of the watch-tower. Paul stood up 
 also. His eyes were bent on the ground. 
 
 " We have done wickedly," he said slow- 
 
 iy- 
 
 " Have we ? " Her voice came wearily. 
 The struggle was over, but it had been 
 sharp, and she was tired. 
 
 "Ah, not wickedly ! " she cried, after a 
 moment. "Come." She stepped in through 
 the ruined doorway, and he followed. The 
 plastered walls inside were pencilled over 
 with lovers' names and initials. " Janie 
 Sobey courting Sam Hendra," " Alse Tre- 
 gay walking with Matthew Henry Coad," 
 "Bessie Bennetts courting Dick Polsue " 
 in that Celtic land the maids did the 
 wooing. 
 
 la dropped on her knees, scraped away 
 some rubbish at the foot of the wall, and 
 pointed out a shy inscription in the smallest
 
 n6 I A 
 
 of handwriting " la Rosemimdy courting 
 the Reverent Paul Heathcote, May, 1860." 
 
 " I wrote it there where nobody could see 
 it : an' I piled the rubbish agen' it, to make 
 sure. Forgi'e me." 
 
 " I will come again, la." 
 
 He took her two hands and kissed her. 
 Her lips twitched, but they were cold. She 
 looked all scared and helpless. With a hand 
 she motioned him to the doorway, and he 
 went.
 
 XIII 
 
 AT four o'clock that afternoon, a yellow 
 van stood ready outside the General Wolfe, 
 with a grey horse between the shafts and the 
 Preacher's boxes strapped on top. A small 
 crowd hung about the tail of the van, wait- 
 ing for the Preacher ; and a line of women 
 and children sat along the causeway opposite 
 in the cool all sick and listless and starving. 
 
 Paul came down the street, talking with 
 Dr. Hammer, Elder Carbines, and Elder 
 Nance. 
 
 ' ' God be with you, Preacher ! ' ' said a 
 voice in the crowd. 
 
 "God be with you, people, and help 
 you! " Paul lifted his hat. 
 
 A woman who sat and suckled a child in 
 an orrel facing the General Wolfe, rose up, 
 snapped her fingers and cried : 
 
 " That for God ! Will He send us pilch- 
 ards, or won't He? " 
 
 "Yes He will," Paul answered, halting 
 and looking up.
 
 n8 I A 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " This night, if there's one soul in Arde- 
 vora that has faith." 
 
 He shook the many hands held out to him, 
 and stepped into the van. The driver called 
 " Cl'k ! " to the grey horse, and off they 
 jolted up the hill. One or two flung a bless- 
 ing after him. Others stared only, and a 
 deeper shadow fell on their faces. The 
 crowd broke up into small groups, talked for 
 a while, and dispersed some to their homes, 
 others towards the quay ; but all moved 
 listlessly. 
 
 la, at the back of the crowd, shut her 
 eyes as the van reached the top of the street : 
 for it is unlucky to watch a ship or carriage 
 out of sight. When she looked again, it had 
 disappeared. 
 
 " He has left them," she murmured : " he 
 cannot help any of us. My people, my 
 people ! ' ' 
 
 Strangely or not, having renounced her 
 own joy, she found her whole heart yearning 
 over these people. To them, at least, she be- 
 longed. With a great price she would have 
 purchased happiness for them ... a 
 little comfort . . . food and drink. . . . 
 
 " If there's one soul in Ardevora that
 
 A LOVE STORY 119 
 
 has faith!" the words sang in her ears. 
 She stood still. Then she began to run : 
 up the street past the green where the chil- 
 dren had played at Three Dukes along the 
 high-road to the verge of the moorland. 
 Here she caught sight of the van, three- 
 quarters of a mile ahead, and jogging smartly 
 over a high ridge of the downs. Its window- 
 panes flashed against the westering sun, so 
 that it moved in a blaze, like a fiery char- 
 iot. In a minute it would be beyond the 
 ridge. 
 
 She could run no farther, her heart was 
 palpitating so fast and hot. She fell on her 
 knees in the middle of the road, and cried, 
 stretching out her hands after the van : 
 
 " My lover, my lover the chariot of 
 Israel an' the horsemen thereof! " 
 
 The van dropped out of sight in the yel- 
 low haze. By degrees, her heart beat less 
 violently. She rose from her knees and 
 walked swiftly homeward. The road ran 
 downhill now, and was easy. At the 
 green, instead of taking the road down into 
 the town, she held on by the higher path 
 that led along the chine above Ardevora and 
 out to the end of the Island. 
 
 Here, by the cliff's edge, she found Huer
 
 120 I A 
 
 Lot sitting on the look-out, with his cow- 
 horn and bushes * beside him. 
 
 ' ' Any signs of the fish ? ' ' 
 
 Huer Lot shook his head. " None, my 
 dear." 
 
 " They're coming," said la ; " go higher, 
 up by Goon Glaze, and look out. In five 
 minutes call to me. Take the horn along 
 with *ee." 
 
 Perhaps he thought the girl had seen 
 something, for up he went. 
 
 " I see none," he called down at last. 
 
 In the shelter of the rock la was down on 
 her knees. 
 
 " Go higher, and wait another five min- 
 utes ! " she cried. She felt the fish coming as 
 surely as gulls forestall the wind. She began 
 to count one hundred two hundred 
 
 " A gannet ! A gannet ! " 
 
 ' ' Neva ! Hcva ! Heva ! ' ' 
 
 She leapt up and ran towards him. He 
 had his horn to his lips and was blowing like 
 mad. With his left hand he pointed out 
 towards the west. la shaded her eyes and 
 looked. Yes, there in the west a dim smear 
 lay on the sea, in colour between blood- 
 
 * Hoops, fixed on short wooden handles and cov- 
 ered with white linen bags.
 
 A LOVE STORY 121 
 
 red and purple. It was no shadow, no ruf- 
 fle of wind : it was fish ! A solitary bird 
 a gannet was busy above it. 
 
 " How long before dark? " 
 
 "Two hours an' a little over. I'm jeal- 
 ous there'll be no time. Run, child ! " 
 
 " Heva ! " She caught up her skirt and 
 raced along the ridge, and down past Joel's 
 cottage. " Heva > Heva ! " 
 
 John Rosemundy was sitting on his door- 
 step, with little Jenifer on his knee. Hear- 
 ing la's shout, he rose, set the child down on 
 the threshold, and took a dozen steps down 
 the hill ; but turned and came back heavily, 
 like a man in a dream. 
 
 "God forgive me," he said, and took 
 Jenifer on his knee again. la heard the 
 breath rattle in the little one's throat. 
 
 ' ' When was she took like this ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Las' night : maybe two hour' after you 
 left. The Doctor's been twice. Leave her 
 to me, an' go cry the news." 
 
 Joel Spargo came running down the street. 
 "Doctor's coming this minute," he said; 
 then nodding towards Rosemundy, " He's 
 lairy wi' hunger; not fit to lift an oar. Be 
 it true, sure 'miff? Can 'ee come wi' us, la? 
 They be wantin' you sore."
 
 122 I A 
 
 So the price was not all paid, even yet. 
 
 "I'll come." She kissed the child's hot 
 face, and went. 
 
 " Heva ! heva ! the fish is come ! " 
 
 At the first blast of Lot's cowhorn the 
 town pricked up its ears. Men and women 
 ran out of doors and down to the quay. 
 
 "Is it fish?" 
 
 " Lanes o' fish balks of 'm." 
 
 " Praise God, the fish at last ! " 
 
 "Where be'm to? Tell me, that's a 
 dear." 
 
 "Just round the Island. See the Huer, 
 up there, 'pon the point." 
 
 "There he goes for 'Weigh anchor' 
 arms across an' hold up the bushes Who've 
 got the first stem ? " * 
 
 " Eli Tregenza." 
 
 " 'A's sick an a-bed. Carbines' two 
 come out next. But who's to work mun 
 all ? An' not two hour to dark ! " 
 
 Indeed this was no time for disputing 
 over stations. The whole town wanted fish 
 to eat, not to sell. All the boats were short- 
 handed. Some had no crews left : some 
 had no masters : some had no owners, and 
 lay high on the beach with seams gaping, 
 * Station.
 
 A LOVE STORY 123 
 
 after weeks of sunshine. A few of these 
 were hauled a little way down and then 
 abandoned, for the men were weak as rats. 
 The knees of all shook : more than one 
 man laid his hands upon a gunwale, gave a 
 feeble push in place of a lift, and fell. The 
 work was left to the boats that lay ready 
 launched. 
 
 la and Joel took command of Elder Car- 
 bines' No. i scan, of which John Rose- 
 mundy was properly master. Three boats 
 belonged to it ; each flat and carvel-built. 
 Joel leaped into the largest called the stan- 
 dout, for it held the great net, 220 fathoms 
 long and 12 fathoms deep, buoyed with 
 corks along the head-rope and weighted 
 with lead at the foot. The boat measured 
 40 feet in length by 10 in the beam, and 
 should have carried a crew of seven, four 
 to row and three to shoot the scan. 
 
 The second boat, theyW7)w,* carried the 
 thwart net and waited on the sean-boat. 
 
 la took her station in a third, a much 
 smaller boat, the htrker ; and pulled ahead 
 of the others to discover what she could of 
 the size of the school f and the direction it 
 was taking. 
 
 * Follower. f Shoal of fish.
 
 124 I A 
 
 The pilchards came abreast of the Island, 
 leaping and stoiting. A dozen stupid fel- 
 lows had taken Tregenza's boats which had 
 first position and were making a mess of it. 
 Worse than this, they were making a noise 
 and alarming the fish. The white bushes on 
 the cliff waved to la that the school had 
 changed its course and was heading off from 
 shore. She signalled to Joel, and the great 
 sean-boat came along with a rush, the follyer 
 close astern. la pulled ahead for a couple 
 of minutes, and signalled again. Passing a 
 warp of the big scan to the follyer, and sign- 
 ing to hold taut, Joel gave the word to 
 shoot. The four rowers in his boat bent to 
 their oars ; he and the other man in the 
 stern cast the great net overboard, hand 
 over hand, each hand moving like lightning. 
 Round the school the boat flew, the head- 
 line bellying out astern at first in a wide 
 curve, then, as they rounded, in a long loop 
 with a narrowing entrance the sean-boat at 
 one end of the loop, the follyer still holding 
 taut on the other. So mightily had Joel 
 worked that the whole mass of net, cork, 
 rope, and lead was cast within five minutes. 
 
 Then, as these two larger boats brought 
 their two warps together, la brought her
 
 A LOVE STORY 125 
 
 small lurker opposite the entrance, and, 
 splashing with her paddle, drove the pilch- 
 ards back from the one opening by which 
 they might escape. 
 
 The warps came together. la looked at 
 Joel, and saw that he was white in the face 
 and panting hard. "Leave the thwart -net 
 to me ! ' ' she called ; and clambering from 
 her own boat into the follyer the crew of 
 which were weak and not to be trusted 
 with her own hands she dropped the thwart- 
 net across the opening. All escape from the 
 scan was now closed, and they had only to 
 raise it cautiously, lace the ends together, 
 and guess the size of their haul. 
 
 Elsewhere matters were not going well. 
 The incapables in Tregenza's boats had 
 scared the fish and headed them off to sea. 
 la and Joel had run into the nick of oppor- 
 tunity. The two next seans enclosed little ; 
 and one of these fouled its footrope across a 
 fourth, and let out all it contained. Bushes 
 waved frantically for a while ; cowhorns 
 blared ; boats spun to and fro across the 
 bay. Then on a sudden all this activity 
 ceased, and the people stared ruefully after 
 the retreating school, now steering north- 
 ward for the Irish coast.
 
 126 I A 
 
 Still, thanks to Joel and la, there was 
 broiling of pilchards that night in every 
 street of Ardevora ; and the children went 
 about singing 
 
 As I was a-going, a-going, a-going on Green Down 
 
 I heard, I heard, I heard 
 The feet, the feet, the feet of fishes walking. . . .
 
 XIV 
 
 THE great net was drawn carefully towards 
 shore and into shallow water ; and then the 
 " tucking " began. The men took a third 
 net, less than half the length of the scan, 
 and having a hollow or bunt in the middle ; 
 and passing it within the enclosure, laid it 
 round the inner side of the big net. They 
 then drew this tuck-net together, contract- 
 ing the pilchards and lifting them gradually 
 from the bottom. The fish began to leap 
 wildly. The whole enclosure became one 
 sheet of silver, glancing and flashing in the 
 twilight. The boats drew round, the men 
 leaning in pairs over the gunwales, each pair 
 with a flasket ready to dip out the pilchards 
 as they were raised to the surface in the 
 bunk of the tuck-net. Two or three men 
 stood by the opening of the tuck-net, with 
 minnies,* which they kept plunging into 
 the water to frighten back any that tried 
 to escape out of the tuck into the big scan. 
 * Heavy stones fastened to ropes.
 
 128 I A 
 
 The voices of the workers were lost in the 
 noise of the fish as they beat on the surface 
 of the water. On the edge of the shore 
 the spectators leaped and laughed and cried 
 together. People on the cliff-side farms 
 across the bay heard the shouting and hub- 
 bub, and brought out their glasses. "The 
 fish has come : us may sleep sound at last. ' ' 
 
 la took no part in this tucking. She 
 stood with hair loose and clothes dripping 
 brine, and stared northward over the sea in 
 the direction taken by the retreating school. 
 
 "Joel, why don't the drift-boats put 
 out?" 
 
 "Scarce a boat has put out this fortni't. 
 The men be too weak to pull, an' the wind's 
 too slight for sailin'." 
 
 " But the fish there's millions yet ! " 
 
 " Iss ; but who can overtake 'em ? " 
 
 "They'll turn east agen I know they 
 will." 
 
 "An" 'tis full moon, too. Naw, 'tisn' 
 any use. ' ' 
 
 " Come along shore an' help me persuade 
 the men. There's fish, an' I can get 'm." 
 
 " 'Tisn' any use, I tell 'ee ! " But she 
 caught his arm and began to run. " Ha' 
 faith ha' faith!" she panted. " You'm
 
 A LOVE STORY 129 
 
 daft," he muttered: but he ran neverthe- 
 less. 
 
 By-and-by he caught some share of her 
 exaltation : and found himself, much to his 
 surprise, doing his very best to persuade the 
 men. 
 
 At first they jeered. They had much 
 rather stay and watch the tucking. Sun- 
 down was past : the sea was like a pond : 
 the full moon would be up in an hour : the 
 pilchards would be half-way to Ireland by 
 the time they put out : and so on, and so 
 on. 
 
 Most of what they had urged was true and 
 reasonable. But la persisted. "Tell me 
 who brought 'em word o' the fish ? Who 
 spied 'em first? Who took 'em while you 
 was blunderin' ? Aw, people, people trust 
 me this wance more an' you shall ha' mill- 
 ions ! " 
 
 The end was that five boats put forth from 
 the outer harbour the inner being almost 
 dry by this time. Joel's boat led, with la 
 steering. It was the hour after sundown 
 when all grows flat and misty to the eye, and 
 a mile of water looks the same as two. They 
 hoisted the brown lug-sails and stole out on 
 the tide, the faintest breath of wind helping. 
 9
 
 130 I A 
 
 A few people on the cliff shouted after them, 
 pointing north. But la disregarded them. 
 She laid the boat's nose E.N.E. and steered 
 a steady course : and the others followed. 
 
 By degrees the coast became a shadow, the 
 hubbub of the tuckers dropped into a con- 
 fused murmur, the white houses faded. The 
 moon pushed over the south-eastern Towans 
 and swam up, white and round, into a serene 
 sky : but a faint halo dulled its edge. " The 
 rain is coming," said la. The light on 
 Gulland Point, too, shone whiter than it had 
 shone for months. She ordered the sweeps to 
 be got out. There were three men aboard 
 besides Joel : and the four took turns at pull- 
 ing, pair and pair about. The other boats 
 dropped behind into the shadow. They had 
 brought no lights, oil being too scarce in the 
 town. 
 
 Joel's boat measured thirty feet in the 
 keel and carried twenty nets, each net twenty 
 fathoms in length and seven fathoms deep. 
 The three men began to curse as they pulled. 
 Joel struck one across the ear and ordered 
 him to be quiet. Then another began to 
 whistle out of recklessness for to whistle at 
 the fishing is to invite ill luck and stopped 
 for sheer faintncss. Joel had lifted his, hand
 
 A LOVE STORY 131 
 
 again. '' Let 'n be," said la; " God '11 take 
 no count o' his defiance." 
 
 She took the sweep from the man and 
 gave him the tiller. On the dark side of the 
 boat her blade stirred up a pool of gold and 
 blue briming * at every stroke. So the boat 
 held on E.N.E. for close on four weary 
 leagues. la looked astern for the other 
 boats, but their crews had lost heart and put 
 back. 
 
 The tide had turned and was beginning to 
 set strongly up channel. la felt it, and drew 
 in the sweep. She stood up and scanned the 
 black water. Then, without giving a word 
 of reason, she ordered Joel to down sail and 
 shoot the nets. He felt sure by this time 
 that she must be daft : for, as every child in 
 Ardevora could tell, drift-nets should only 
 be shot at sundown or just before dawn, 
 when the pilchards are most active and enter 
 the nets best. But he humoured her, and 
 the others obeyed. A thick mist had gath- 
 ered round the moon by this time; and as 
 the nets were heaved over and spread, the 
 briming outlined every mesh in fire, and the 
 head-line ran out in a row of dotted sparks. 
 
 The three men swore at her again and 
 * Phosphorescence.
 
 132 I A 
 
 fl'.mg themselves down to sleep under the 
 thwarts. Joel, after slaking his thirst from 
 the water-breaker, sat himself down to rest, 
 with his back against the cuddy. But la 
 went forward to the bows, where the rope 
 was fastened, and waited. 
 
 The moon climbed over the mast. The 
 mist spread and hung over the heaving water 
 like a coverlet on a sleeper's breast. In that 
 hour la read, or thought she read, the secret 
 of her people's obscure toil, the might and 
 permanence of it, the purpose it fulfilled, and 
 her own share in it. " O people, my people, 
 wicked was I to dream of leavin' 'ee ! Cast 
 tip my shame to me, but never cast me 
 out! " 
 
 She drew the ring from her pocket and 
 slipped it on the third finger of her left hand. 
 Then she pulled on the rope gently, until the 
 boat's nose touched the net. Leaning over, 
 she thrust the finger through one of the 
 gleaming meshes. The ring slid down and 
 through the mesh and into the sea. A few 
 golden bubbles shot up and were extin- 
 guished. The cord around her finger was 
 now her only marriage-ring, and with it she 
 took the sea to be her husband. 
 
 But gudd&ily she dropped the net and
 
 A LOVE STORY 133 
 
 drew back, upright upon her knees, clasping 
 her hands together below her bosom. Some- 
 thing fluttered beneath them, soft as a bird's 
 wing. Her lips parted. 
 
 " The rain is comin'." 
 
 It was Joel's voice, and he stood at her 
 shoulder. 
 
 She turned and looked straight above her, 
 following his eyes. A tongue of pale blue 
 flame shivered on the truck of the mast, ran 
 down a foot or so, and died out. It was 
 a composant. 
 
 " Jenifer is dead," she said quietly ; "let 
 us haul the net." 
 
 She unfastened the rope and passed it to 
 Joel, who carried it to the boat's quarter. 
 As they began to haul, the first drops of 
 rain fell.
 
 XV 
 
 AT daybreak the early watchers on the 
 cliff spied them, through sheets of rain. 
 They had hoisted a small flag in the rigging, 
 and two boats put out to help ; for they 
 were too weak to lift the net, let alone to 
 shake the fish on board. 
 
 As the leading boat drew near, la saw 
 that her father stood in the bows, and tried 
 to hail him. Her voice died in her throat. 
 But Joel, who held a glass to his eye, set it 
 down, and sang out 
 
 " Ahoy, John Rosemundy ! " 
 
 "Ahoy, there ! " His voice came cheer- 
 fully over the hissing water, and la lifted her 
 head. 
 
 " How's the little maid ? " 
 
 " Better, thank the Lord ! Doctor's just 
 left, an' Missus Nance is a-tendin' her." 
 
 Then la leaned her forehead on the gun- 
 wale and sobbed : until Joel took her by 
 the shoulder and led her forward to the 
 cuddy.
 
 A LOVE STORY 135 
 
 "Lie there an' sleep," he commanded, 
 pointing to a heap of tarpaulins. 
 
 She lay down as obediently as a child. 
 For forty-eight hours she had not closed an 
 eye. 
 
 When she awoke and looked through the 
 cuddy-door, the boat was heaped high with 
 pilchards. Joel stood at the tiller, his 
 guernsey coated with fish-scales and twin- 
 kling through the rain like a suit of armour. 
 He nodded and smiled. 
 
 "There's a whole pack o' folks waitin' 
 for *ee." 
 
 She stepped out, and looked around. 
 They were rounding the quay under short 
 sail, and the quay was lined with people. 
 These put up a cheer as Joel jammed the 
 helm down, and the boat ran up in the wind 
 and fell alongside. 
 
 In a single haul they had taken 40,000 
 pilchards; and, the fish being in very good 
 condition, this meant about sixteen hogs- 
 heads, and from eight to nine gallons of oil 
 per hogshead. The scan, of course, had 
 taken enormously more probably 700 
 hogsheads, or a million and three-quarters 
 of fish. To be sure, none of these could be 
 exported from the infected town ; and later,
 
 136 I A 
 
 as the rain came down, flushed drains and 
 gutters, and washed their offscourings along 
 the beach and around the scan and the fish 
 that still waited to be tucked, it was wisely 
 determined to destroy them. The farmers 
 bought them, mixed them with sand, and 
 carted them up the hills for manure. 
 
 But the famine was stayed before this. 
 
 As la passed through the crowd on the 
 quay, a small child caught her by the 
 skirt. 
 
 "If you please, la Rosemundy, you'm 
 wanted up to Missis Tregay's. The Doctor 
 sent me down to say you was to come so 
 soon as iver you landed." 
 
 Wondering a little, she followed the child 
 to a cottage half-way up the Chypons. Dr. 
 Hammer met her in the doorway. 
 
 " There's a baby born here," he said to 
 her, as he led the way into a darkened room 
 to the left of the passage. She entered, 
 and an old woman advanced to meet her, 
 holding a bundle. It was Aunt Mary Johns, 
 the midwife. 
 
 ' ' The mother says it must be held in a 
 maid's arms before 'tis dressed for luck. 
 If she wasn't so weak, I'd have called her a 
 fool. As it is, I told her she ought to
 
 A LOVE STORY 137 
 
 choose the best maid in the town ; and I 
 sent for you." 
 
 la stretched out her arms for the child, 
 but withdrew them sharply, and covered her 
 face with her hands. With a low cry, she 
 turned and ran out of the house and up the 
 hill. 
 
 Twenty minutes later Dr. Hammer en- 
 tered the Rosemundy's cottage, and found 
 la there alone beside her sister's bed. The 
 child was asleep. Mrs. Nance had given 
 up her charge, received la's thanks, and 
 gone home to breakfast. John Rosemundy 
 was down on the quay, landing and weigh- 
 ing the pilchards. 
 
 The Doctor halted in the doorway. la 
 had risen, and stood with her face to the 
 wall. 
 
 " My girl " 
 
 She felt his sharp grey eyes upon her. 
 They pierced like gimlets. But she neither 
 answered nor turned. 
 
 "My girl, I believe I have done you a 
 great wrong." 
 
 She faced him now, her arms hanging 
 limp before her, her hands clasped, and her 
 eyes interrogating him.
 
 138 I A 
 
 " I sent him away," he said. 
 
 "No, Doctor." 
 
 " Child, I am an idiot past forgiving. I 
 sent him away." 
 
 " No, Doctor, /sent him away." 
 
 " You heard what I said to Carbines that 
 day?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " The worst of it is, I meant you to hear 
 it." 
 
 "I know. But 'twas true; wasn't it, 
 Doctor ? ' ' 
 
 "God knows, my dear," the Doctor 
 groaned. 
 
 "Oh, yes; 'twas true. 'Twould ha' 
 spoilt his life. I made him see that." 
 
 Dr. Hammer stepped forward, laid a hand 
 on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes. 
 
 ' ' You made him see that ? " he 
 echoed. 
 
 " He he didiv know " 
 
 The sentence came to a halt, and she 
 looked at him piteously. 
 
 " And you never told him ? " 
 
 She shook her head. He made for the 
 door, but she caught at his arm. 
 
 "You mustn' tell him, Doctor: you 
 mustn' tell nobody. He wanted to marry
 
 A LOVE STORY 139 
 
 me gave me his word over Xoon Water. 
 'Twos I that said ' No.' You judge 'n 
 wrong. When a body thinks o' religion 
 afore anything " 
 
 " 'tis the others that suffer. You 
 needn't tell me that, la." 
 
 They stood in the doorway, and looked 
 down together upon the bay. The washings 
 of the town had turned the water inshore to 
 a turbid yellow ; and as the rain fell and fell, 
 this yellow water spread into a long arc and 
 pushed slowly out towards the blue-green 
 Atlantic.
 
 XVI 
 
 THE great army of fish held on its way, 
 and was lost in the north -east. A few unim- 
 portant hauls were made by the drift-boats 
 among the stragglers, and so the summer 
 fishery ended. Some of the Ardevora boats 
 hoisted sail for the herrings on the east 
 coast ; but most of the men contented them- 
 selves with overhauling for the autumn mack- 
 erel fishery, which turned out better than 
 anyone expected, and decidedly above the 
 average. 
 
 Meanwhile the typhus steadily diminished. 
 The breaking up of the weather seemed to 
 put a period to its rage. Fresh south- 
 westerly breezes blew through the rest of 
 August and the whole of September, with 
 a plenty of rain. The bill of mortality 
 dropped week by week, thus 14, 8, 3, 2, o. 
 The last death occurred on September 23rd, 
 and when, a fortnight later, the equinoctial 
 winds had blown themselves out, it was
 
 A LOVE STORY 141 
 
 found that the pestilence had gone with 
 them. 
 
 Early in October the pilchards began to 
 collect again and draw southward out of the 
 cold seas towards the Atlantic. And in the 
 third week of that month the returning 
 legions swept back along the shore by Arde- 
 vora, so compactly moving that thousands 
 were pushed ashore by the pressure of the 
 rear-guard. In three days the fishermen 
 took up fifteen millions of fish. 
 
 Seven weeks later, a dozen women were 
 sifting pilchards in a store belonging to El- 
 der Carbines, at the north end of the town. 
 The fish (a part of the first day's catch) had 
 stood in balk ever since their removal from 
 the tuck-net : that is, after a rubbing of bay- 
 salt they had been piled in layers against the 
 wall of the store, with salt between each 
 layer, and yet more salt in all the interstices. 
 In this state they had been allowed to re- 
 main for a month, the oil and brine draining 
 out of them into pits dug for the purpose. 
 
 The women were now employed in sifting 
 and packing. Some rubbed the dry salt off 
 the fish. Others washed them in sieves. 
 Then others laid them regularly in great 
 fifty-gallon casks. The casks had wide
 
 14- I A 
 
 crevices between the staves : and, when one 
 was heaped full, the women would lift a 
 large granite pressing-stone on to the top. 
 Under this the fish sank lower in the cask, 
 and the oil ran out through the crevices. 
 When a cask had been pressed down and 
 refilled, once every day for nine days, it 
 would weigh about 476 pounds ; and was 
 then headed up, branded with Mr. Carbines' 
 name, the date, the letters B.F. (for " Brit- 
 ish Fish"), and the number 3,000 (the 
 supposed contents of a hogshead) ; and 
 stood ready for exportation. 
 
 The women chattered as they worked. 
 
 " Long life to the Pope, an' death to 
 thousands!" said one, breaking off work 
 and producing a tea-pot, from the cracked 
 spout of which she took a long pull. Wip- 
 ing her lips, she added, " Well, 'tis a pretty 
 good season with the nor' coasters,* after 
 all we've a-gone through." 
 
 "Praise the Lord for all His mercies! 
 Soon as iver we put these in bulk I heard 
 mun crying for more." f 
 
 * The winter pilchards. 
 
 f- Squeaking. The noise (often a loud one) is 
 made by the bursting of the pilchards' air-bladders 
 under pressure of the balk.
 
 A LOVE STORY 143 
 
 "Whiddles!" 
 
 " 'Tisn' whiddles. You'll be tellin' me 
 next that 'tisn' a sign o' fish when the press- 
 stones begin shiftin' ! Why, the very day 
 that Joel Spargo an' la Rosemundy took 
 that big lot, back in August month, I was 
 passing this very door, thinkin' o' nothin' so 
 little as fish, when I heard askimmage an' a 
 slidin' " 
 
 "Talk o' the devil there's Joel Spargo 
 passin' the door this minute. Hi ! Joel, 
 lad!" 
 
 " What the clatter? " Joel paused in the 
 open doorway and looked in. 
 
 " Step in an' gi'e us a kiss, my dear." 
 
 " Can't. Winter's comin' on, an' the 
 days be short. Better you clacked less an' 
 worked more." 
 
 "Joel's very partikler in sharin' his 
 kisses," said a girl. "Here, Prudence 
 Oliver, help me lift this here stone, since he 
 don't offer." 
 
 " I can't, my dear : feared o' strainin' 
 myself." 
 
 " I reckon your husband won't let 'ee." 
 
 "Well, 'tis summat to have a man that's 
 not ashamed to own childer." 
 
 "What's all this about?" Joel asked,
 
 144 I A 
 
 for she threw a meaning look at the women 
 as she spoke. 
 
 ' ' Better ask la Rosemundy. ' ' 
 
 A chorus of laughter followed him as he 
 turned on his heel. He did not understand. 
 But the women had long been accustomed 
 to rally him on his devotion to la a devo- 
 tion apparent enough to everyone in the 
 town. And he always took to his heels as 
 soon as her name was uttered. 
 
 But it happened two evenings later that he 
 overtook la at the foot of Down-along on 
 his way home from the fishing. The two 
 had been out all day with the hook-and-line, 
 but on different sides of the bay. Joel had 
 taken two fine cod on the long-line, besides 
 ling and smaller fish, and must describe their 
 weight, condition, and the rest. He always 
 talked to la as to a man comrade. 
 
 " Wait for me a moment," she said, 
 " while I run in and ask after Bathsheba 
 Toms." 
 
 The child had suffered from deafness for 
 some time after her recovery, but this was 
 passing off. 
 
 Joel waited for a couple of minutes by 
 the door. Then he heard the Widow Toms' 
 voice inside :
 
 A LOVE STORY 145 
 
 "I'll not deny," she was saying, "you 
 was very good to Bathsheba, an' I don't 
 forget it. Iss, an' the poor child's took a 
 great fancy for 'ee. But, all the same, I 
 wish you wouldn' come. Bein' a respectable 
 woman mysel', that has always brought up 
 my childer to be partickler, till it pleased 
 God to take mun ' ' 
 
 " Oh, hush, Widow, hush ! Joel Spargo's 
 outside. I won't come again if you don't 
 wish it." 
 
 But the Widow came towards the door, 
 lifting her voice yet higher : 
 
 " An' if 'tis he, the sooner he hears the 
 better. For there's a lot o' good in 'ee, la 
 Rosemundy, an' you'd make en a good wife, 
 and he's no call to put this disgrace on you ; 
 an' so I'd tell 'n to his face." 
 
 " Widow, Widow 'tisn' Joel." la en- 
 treated her breathlessly. 
 
 Joel stalked into the room and took her 
 by the wrist. " Come away, girl," he 
 commanded : and she found herself in the 
 street. 
 
 They walked up the street side by side in 
 silence : .and up the hill to her father's door, 
 but Joel did not pause there. He went 
 past his own door, too : and she followed 
 
 10
 
 146 I A 
 
 him, still in silence. It must come the 
 sooner now, the better. They walked out 
 along the ridge to the ruin on the headland, 
 and here, almost on the spot where she had 
 dismissed Paul, Joel faced about on her. 
 
 " la is it true? " 
 
 She dropped her arms helplessly before 
 her: but lifted her head in a moment, and 
 looked straight at him. 
 
 " Iss, 'tis true." 
 
 He turned his face away towards the sea. 
 
 " When when '11 it be?" 
 
 "About the end o' February, I reckon." 
 
 He faced her. " Was it that Preacher fel- 
 low?" 
 
 "No." But the lie failed on her lips. 
 "Joel, you won't tell ..." 
 
 (How did he know ? He had never even 
 seen them together : and was a slow-vitted 
 man, too.) 
 
 " 'Tisn' too late. You'll let me go to "n." 
 
 " Listen to me, Joel. I sent 'n goin' . . . 
 he doesn' know. . . . Not if you was to 
 bring en an' he was go 'pon his knees here, 
 would I marry en." 
 
 " Is that truth?" 
 
 " It is truth, as I stand here." 
 
 "An' will be alwavs? "
 
 A LOVE STORY 147 
 
 "An 1 will be always." 
 
 "You know what they'll call 'ee? You 
 heard what that woman said ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' About about you ? ' ' Her face was 
 red as fire. " Joel, Joel here I be with all 
 my shame before 'ee but I never thought 
 Joel " 
 
 " Hush 'ee now ! " He paused and took 
 her hand. " What odds about me ? An' 
 what was I goin' to say? you'll hear me 
 for a minute seems like takin' advantage, 
 but 'tisn' that. Year upon year I've loved 
 'ee, an' for months now I've knawed 'twas 
 no good " 
 
 "What use " 
 
 " Aw now, hear me out ! I knaw 'tis no 
 use : but that don't make no differ. When 
 you told me jus' now, I thought but it 
 don't seem to make no differ at all. If you 
 was near hell itself, I must go on thinkin' all 
 the world of 'ee. Aw, la la, girl I ask no 
 more of 'ee let me gi'e the cheeld my 
 name. ..." 
 
 So, it had happened ! Here, where four 
 month ago she had watched her lover's face, 
 if haply against her prayers God might send 
 a miracle; here the miracle had befallen, 
 from the lips of another man. Here was
 
 148 I A 
 
 love to match her love and she could not 
 take it ! 
 
 " Stop, Joel. Do 'ee really think so bad 
 of me as that ? ' ' 
 
 " I think all the world of 'ee." 
 " Do 'ee think I be a woman that would 
 do this thing?" She saw the puzzlement 
 creep over Joel's face, and laid a hand on 
 his arm. 
 
 He stammered, '' I meant no ill." 
 " I believe you never meant ill in your 
 life. Ah, Joel ah, friend, with all my 
 heart I thank 'ee ! You an' me' 11 never 
 have all we want in life : but I shall come to 
 'ee sometimes for help, because you was 
 born to help and think good thoughts." 
 
 She tapped his arm gently, and sped away. 
 Then the twilight received and hid her. 
 
 Next day, Mrs. Nance called at the Rose- 
 mundy's cottage, with a sweet cake for 
 Jenifer. 
 
 " But that's not my only reason for corn- 
 in'," she told la; " though I take an in- 
 terest in the child. I see your probation 
 ran out last Lady Day, an' you've been free 
 to present yoursel' for admission to the 
 Elect, any time since then."
 
 A LOVE STORY 149 
 
 " I ain't a-goin' to present mysel'." 
 
 "Well, now, I'm glad o' that. You see, 
 the others would likely ha' left it to me to 
 decide about your admission, bein' the only 
 female Elder : an' the scandal I couldn' 
 very well not that I wish 'ee harm, you 
 understand, but there's young maidens i' 
 the congregation, an' the example " 
 
 " I' ve thought o' that. But I may come an' 
 listen, Sundays ? You won't refuse me that? ' ' 
 
 " Dear, no ! The Lord forbid we 
 should deny 'ee the means o' grace in your 
 terrible position. Who knows but some 
 day you may repent an' be at heart like any 
 decent woman ? " 
 
 % 3f ^ : ^t 
 
 Shortly after Christmas the Doctor 
 brought la a message from Revyer, from 
 Mrs. Baragwanath. 
 
 " The old woman sends her love and re- 
 spects those were her words and if you 
 will go over and lodge with her till the 
 child is born, she will do her best to make 
 you comfortable." 
 
 la shook her head. " But thank her for 
 thinkin' o' me ; an' tell her she advised me 
 right, though she didn' think o' me at the 
 time, or very little."
 
 150 I A 
 
 " Well, shall I send up to Truro and get 
 you a lodging there, and a good nurse ? ' ' 
 
 " Thank you, Doctor, but I'll stay home 
 here in Ardevora. When I told father, I 
 said to mysel', 'If he beats me, I'll go 
 a\vay.' But he didn', though he lifted his 
 hand : an' he's spoke kind enough about it 
 since, an' I'm to stay." 
 
 *}* *f* <* *T* *r 
 
 So in her father's cottage, on Valentine's 
 Day, 1 86 1, la's child was born a healthy, 
 blue-eyed boy. A week later he was bap- 
 tised, and given the name of John. Only 
 four people in the world knew what his sur- 
 name should have been.
 
 xvi r 
 
 FOR the next four years la lived on in her 
 father's cottage, and worked at the fishing 
 as before. Few folks had ever made friends 
 with her. In the former times she and 
 her father had been eyed askance as people 
 "from behind the hills." During those 
 weeks of pestilence she had fairly earned 
 the love and gratitude of many. But the 
 debt was never paid. Her fault cancelled 
 it. Women whose children she had nursed 
 nodded as she passed their doors, but did 
 not invite her to step in and causey.* Her 
 heart turned back and accepted its old iso- 
 lation. 
 
 She was not unhappy. She had her boy 
 to love. 
 
 He grew a straight and handsome child, 
 with curly yellow hair, and blue eyes so like 
 his father's that la trembled sometimes. 
 But nobody guessed her secret, though many 
 people speculated about it. And not even 
 to Jenifer would she tell it. 
 * Chat.
 
 152 I A 
 
 One thing was certain, as the public ad- 
 mitted. The child was none of Joel's: 
 every feature of him gave the lie to that 
 suspicion. Besides, everyone knew that la 
 had only to lift a finger and Joel would 
 marry her to-morrow. 
 
 But it seemed the child was enough for 
 her, without a husband. No fatal shell * 
 had made its appearance in Johnny's cra- 
 dle: and therefore a fisherman he might be 
 without fear. At the dignified age of six 
 weeks he made his first appearance in that 
 line of business j and thenceforward accom- 
 panied his mother regularly whenever the 
 weather allowed at first a long inert bundle 
 in the stern-sheets ; then a shorter and more 
 vivacious bundle ; and at length, lo ! one of 
 the sterner sex, breeched in authority, giving 
 opinions. 
 
 la "spoilt" him, of course : and as Johnny 
 had at least as much spirit as most boys, 
 there were tussles at times. One evening, 
 for no particular reason, he refused to say 
 his prayers. Dr. Hammer happened to call, 
 and found la holding the boy's hands and 
 matters at a deadlock. 
 
 "Let him alone," he said. " WouUJ 
 * Hear Dr. Hammer, ante, p. g2.
 
 A LOVE STORY 153 
 
 you, of all women, have him glib with his 
 prayers? " 
 
 She flushed hotly. " You've no right to 
 say that ! Besides, 'tisn' true." 
 
 The Doctor turned to Johnny. 
 
 "Johnny," he said, "I happen to know 
 that your mother is the best and loveliest 
 woman in the world." 
 
 ' ' Is she a lady ? ' ' asked Johnny, who 
 had been dazzled, six months before, by the 
 wife of a Parliamentary candidate for the 
 Western Division of Cornwall ; and had 
 toddled round a dozen streets after her, gap- 
 ing, while she prosecuted her canvass. 
 
 " One of these days you will wake up and 
 find her a princess. In the meanwhile it is 
 your business, instead of giving her pain, to 
 protect her." 
 
 Johnny had never thought of his mother 
 in this light : and the Doctor's words did 
 him good. 
 
 "Cramming the poor child's head wi' 
 such gammut ! " exclaimed la: but she was 
 pleased, all the same. 
 
 And, indeed, year by year after the boy's 
 birth she had grown goodlier to look on. and 
 was now, at the age of twenty-four, an ex- 
 ceedingly beautiful woman. The Doctor
 
 i 5 4 I A 
 
 thought so, at any -rate. He and Joel were 
 the only two who knew her secret now (for 
 Mrs. Baragwanath began to fail rapidly after 
 her husband's death, and was buried before- 
 twelve months were out). Nothing delighted 
 the Doctor more than to call and discuss 
 plans with la. For he had bought several 
 pieces of property in the lower slums of the 
 town, and was busy pulling down the old 
 hovels and putting up decent and well- 
 drained cottages in their room. The people 
 grumbled : but he enjoyed opposition. He 
 also set to work to bully the Town Council 
 into improving the town estates, and became 
 for a while the best-hated man in the neigh- 
 bourhood : for, finding himself at first in a 
 minority of one, he judged it necessary to be 
 very offensive indeed. 
 
 So three days out of the seven found him 
 in Ardevora. And as he made great show 
 of valuing la's opinion (though he never 
 adopted it by any chance), there was not a 
 new plan drawn up, nor a single alteration 
 made, but la must come with him and view 
 the place, and criticise. And had you noted 
 his demeanour at such times, and the air 
 with which he gave her his hand to cross 
 a plank or mount a few steps, you would
 
 A LOVE STORY 155 
 
 have supposed him to be escorting a duchess 
 at the very least. 
 
 In this way la lived for four years and a 
 little over : and then a great change of fort- 
 une befell her. For Dr. Hammer, riding 
 home late one evening to Laregan, took a 
 violent inflammation of the lungs. He sent 
 at once for la, and she went. But the case 
 was hopeless, and her good friend told her 
 so, and took leave of her with fortitude and 
 serenity. 
 
 ' ' And you must give me a kiss, my dear, 
 if you please. I suppose I may ask for one 
 now without setting every foolish tongue to 
 wag that I'm making up to you? " 
 
 At his request she stayed at Laregan and 
 made all arrangements for the funeral, and 
 superintended the burial feast. And when 
 it was all over, and she in the kitchen wash- 
 ing up the dishes, the Penzance lawyer 
 walked in, and told her that, save for a 
 small annuity to Peter (his old stableman 
 and factotum), and another for the mainten- 
 ance of Ernest William, the jackass, Dr. 
 Hammer had left her all that belonged to 
 him in the world. 
 
 This was entirely surprising to her, and 
 gave her almost as much concern as pleasure.
 
 156 I A 
 
 For her own part, she had been content with 
 her lot in Ardevora. But there was Johnny 
 to think of. In thinking of Johnny's future, 
 her great regret had always been that he 
 would never be able to take as good a posi- 
 tion in life as his father. She thought of 
 this without any resentment. She accepted 
 her own inferiority as natural and right. 
 But she did sigh sometimes that his son must 
 be a common fisherman. And yet she would 
 have died rather than accept help from Paul. 
 Now she could realise her dream. And if 
 ever this great-hearted woman appeared in 
 an unamiable light (which I do not admit), 
 it was now, in her handling of the Doctor's 
 money. To be sure, she religiously carried 
 out his schemes for the drainage, ventilation, 
 and general improvement of the cottage 
 property in Ardevora : though she grudged 
 every penny spent. After deducting these 
 and other expenses, she found -herself pos- 
 sessed of a trifle under ,300 a year. Out of 
 this a small weekly sum went to compensate 
 her father and Jenifer for the services she 
 withdrew from the household : but she made 
 no attempt to raise them above their condi- 
 tion of hard work and plain living, unless we 
 count occasional gifts, such as a new net or a
 
 A LOVE STORY 157 
 
 Sunday frock. She took Johnny off to Lare- 
 gan, and there lived with one very little and 
 not very well-paid handmaiden ; and prac- 
 tised stinginess. She was saving for Johnny. 
 
 But she dressed as became her new station, 
 and she arrayed the child in velvet and 
 fine cambric. She debated much with her- 
 self on the steps to be taken to educate him 
 when the time should come, and even prac- 
 tised herself in reading, though she hated it. 
 A newspaper she could tolerate, however : 
 and she subscribed to one at Plymouth, and 
 also to that ne\v monthly periodical, the 
 Cornhill Magazine. On Sundays she and 
 Johnny walked over to Revyer, and sat 
 in a pew apart. And by degrees tongues 
 ceased to wag against the mistress of Lar- 
 egan ; and she grew to be a person almost 
 of importance. Her fault was not forgotten : 
 but people applied to her confidently for a 
 reasonable subscription towards any char- 
 itable or religious undertaking ; and some 
 talked of inviting her to present herself for 
 admission among the Elect. But somehow 
 this was never done. 
 
 In all this while she never heard from 
 Paul. But she heard a great deal about 
 him. for the Saints watched every step in
 
 158 I A 
 
 his career, and often talked of it. And by- 
 and-by his name began to find its way into 
 the newspapers. The great hall had been 
 built in the district between Brixton and 
 Cambervvell, and he had preached in it for 
 two years now, and was a success. Fashion- 
 able people drove on Sundays down to the 
 south-east of London to hear him. The 
 Saints in Ardevora began to talk of his visit- 
 ing them before long. The debt on the 
 great building was almost paid. Still, two 
 or three hundred pounds remained to be 
 wiped off. Much might be done by a 
 preaching tour in the provinces. la heard 
 all this, and prepared her heart. 
 
 One Sunday in early spring she heard that 
 Paul was coming in a month's time. Johnny 
 had just passed his sixth birthday. As he 
 walked homeward beside her, he asked : 
 
 "Mummy, why are you squeezing my 
 hand so tight?"
 
 XVIII 
 
 Six years had not strained that beautiful 
 voice, nor dulled a single gesture. He 
 spoke of his first coming to Revyer, " little 
 home of the faith ; " of the early days of his 
 ministry ; of the summer of pestilence. The 
 same light of inspiration shone in his face. 
 
 "He has not aged a day," thought la, 
 stealing a look up at him from the pew 
 where she sat with Johnny beside her; " and 
 I am old old ! ' ' 
 
 If cultivation had given his eloquence re- 
 straint, this was not felt as a fault ; for, his 
 discourse being personal, simple words suited 
 it best. On this ground the hearts of his 
 hearers went out half-way to meet him. 
 They had lost husbands, sisters, children ; 
 and they remembered it all, and wept. 
 
 "But how much does he really feel?" 
 she asked herself. 
 
 " I have sat at your tables" the silver 
 voice spoke above her as though it answered
 
 160 I A 
 
 " I have sat by your sick-beds. Hands 
 that welcomed me in February I have crossed 
 before August upon dead breasts. Have I 
 not borne these things in mind during these 
 years? Have I not prayed, kneeling towards 
 Revyer ? little Revyer in the Towans 
 place of Hannah's vision, of my o\vn trial 
 and adoption; poor, yet a mother-city; 
 barren, yet raised a beacon of belief ! " 
 
 Two years ago one year ago she might 
 have asked: "And what of me?" But 
 now she said, " Alas, I love him ! But I 
 have strength ; " and caught Johnny sharply 
 by the arm. The boy looked up at her. 
 She smiled, and brushed back a yellow curl 
 that had fallen across his shoulder. The old 
 terror clutched at her heart. Surely when 
 people sa\v the two together 
 
 But nobody guessed. 
 
 The sermon ended, and the collecting- 
 plate came round. Johnny put in a sover- 
 eign, and she a five-pound note. She could 
 not forego this little slap of revenge. 
 
 A tea-drinking followed the service ; for 
 this was a week-day gathering a Tuesday, 
 to be precise. Paul's tour had come to an 
 end. and he must be back to preach in Lon- 
 don on the following Sunday.
 
 A LOVE STORY 161 
 
 They had laid out the tables under an 
 awning in the boat-builder's yard now dis- 
 used and falling into worse decay. la had 
 contributed one of the tables and presided 
 over it, pouring tea and dispensing saffron 
 cake, heavy cake, potato cake, and thunder 
 and lightning.* She moved about, a queen 
 among the women there, in a gown of black 
 silk, rich yet severe, with a kerchief of lace 
 real Honiton drawn forward across her 
 shoulders, and fastened at her bosom with a 
 plain brooch of gold. It is probable that on 
 this particular evening she touched the height 
 of her beauty. For suppressed excitement 
 coloured her cheeks and lit her eyes ; and her 
 figure now and always was magnificent. Her 
 age, remember, was barely twenty-five. 
 
 Paul, as in duty bound, at first took his 
 seat at the Chief Elder's table, where Bitha 
 Carbines presided. But after a while he 
 rose and threaded his way among the tables, 
 shaking hands here and there, and pausing 
 to speak a word or two with some old ac- 
 quaintance. And by-and-by he found him- 
 self beside la. 
 
 " May I have a cup ? " 
 
 " That's right, Preacher dear," said a 
 
 * Bread and cream and treacle, 
 ii
 
 162 I A 
 
 connoisseur who sat handy by the head of 
 the table; " Laregan tea's the best i' the 
 whole tent." 
 
 la filled a cup to the brim, and handed it 
 without spilling a drop. Their eyes did not 
 meet. 
 
 " Is this the end? " she thought. 
 
 Apparently it was, for being hailed by an 
 old woman at the foot of the table, Paul 
 went off and drank his tea beside her. Nor 
 did he come back. 
 
 " That was the best that could happen," 
 la told herself as she walked homeward to 
 Laregan. Johnny being tired, she put him 
 to bed at once, kissed him, pulled down his 
 blind, told him to be a good boy and 
 love God, and left him in the twilight to 
 find his way into dreamland. 
 
 She went downstairs to the parlour and 
 took up a book. There was light enough to 
 read by if she sat in the window seat. So 
 she sat there with a book, and stared out of 
 window. 
 
 " It was the best that could happen." 
 
 But a dark figure came across the home 
 field against the sunset, and the garden gate 
 clicked, and she rose and met him at the 
 door.
 
 A LOVE STORY 163 
 
 la!' 
 Paul- 
 
 For a while he found nothing more to say. 
 
 " Won't you come in ? " 
 
 In the parlour he turned on her 
 
 " I heard it this afternoon after the ser- 
 vice. Carbines told me : I never knew " 
 
 " You weren't meant to." 
 
 " I have done wickedly. Is it too late ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' What do you mean ? ' ' she asked 
 simply, and, comprehending, answered at 
 once " Oh, yes : far too late. I have not 
 been so unhappy as you think. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Then you did not care for me, after 
 all not as you used to tell me you cared ? ' ' 
 la recognised the old note and smiled, not 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, Paul, I have always cared." 
 
 " But, la I love you here and now. I 
 have never loved another woman. There 
 are no obstacles now " 
 
 " No obstacles now ? " she echoed. 
 
 " None." 
 
 Her smile was not a whit more bitter than 
 before. 
 
 "Yes one," she said. 
 
 ' What is it, dear ? Tell me, and it shall 
 be smoothed away. ' '
 
 164 I A 
 
 ' The whole past ! ' ' 
 
 He started, drew near and looked at her 
 closely in the fading light. 
 
 ' ' You sent me away ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes. Paul, I love you are you not 
 the father of my boy ? and I send you 
 away. Once I sent you for your own good, 
 and you went : now I send you for my 
 good, and again you will go." 
 
 " The boy .... to give him an honest 
 name .... self-respect." 
 
 She drew herself up. " He will carry 
 his mother's name. And forgi'e me if 
 I think for a moment of my own pride. 
 There, dear! don't let us quarrel. I've 
 a-thought o' Johnny, too. Listen : I'm 
 goin' to sell the most o' my belongin's 
 here, and we'm goin' to America, Johnny 
 and me. The folks have been kind, but 
 there he'll start 'pon his own feet when the 
 time comes." 
 
 "You told me once," he urged (and 
 again she recognised the note), "you told 
 me once that your place was with your 
 people. ' ' 
 
 "But they'm not his people. We shall 
 start after Midsummer," 
 
 " May I see him?"
 
 A LOVE STORY 165 
 
 She lit a candle and led him upstairs to 
 the child's bedroom. At the door she 
 handed the candle to him. 
 
 " Step softly," she said. " He's a sound 
 sleeper, but the planching creaks." 
 
 She let him pass into the room alone, 
 and went back to the parlour and waited. 
 Twenty minutes passed before he came 
 down to her. 
 
 " You didn't wake him ? " 
 
 " No . . . . my own son. And I shall 
 love no other woman." 
 
 "Well, it does me good to hear you say 
 it. For I loved 'ee, Paul, an' love 'ee still ; 
 an' I swore to 'ee over Noon Water. Thee 
 it needn' bind." 
 
 "It shall bind." 
 
 " Then wherever I go I'll love thee; and 
 wherever thou goes, my heart go with 'ee. 
 May the face o' God shine upon 'ee. Good- 
 bye !" 
 
 He touched her hand, and went from 
 her.
 
 XIX 
 
 JOEL SPARGO'S boat was moored two fur- 
 longs from Ardevora quay, and Joel was 
 sitting there in the glow of a June sunset, 
 with his back to the quay, whittling at a 
 thole-pin, when la came alongside. 
 
 " You made me jump," he said, dropping 
 his thole-pin and brushing the chips off the 
 thwart. " Is all well with 'ee, mistress? 
 Well or ill, the sight of 'ee is welcome as 
 May flowers." 
 
 "Ouf! the dear old smell!" She 
 caught up an end of tarry net and held it 
 close to her face. " Joel, I want 'ee to do 
 me a great kindness. I'm a-leavin' for 
 America this very day week." 
 
 " So it's true, what they tell me ? " 
 
 " Will you see us as far as Liverpool, 
 Johnny and me? 'Tis a long way we'm 
 goin', an' I'm a terrible coward to start. 
 If you could bring Jenifer as far as Liver- 
 pool, an' bring her home " 
 
 Had she bidden him follow her round the
 
 A LOVE STORY 167 
 
 world, he would have done it blithely. Since 
 she commanded this harder thing, he was 
 ready. 
 
 A fortnight later, on a muddy pier at 
 Liverpool, and in a drizzling rain, they said 
 good-bye. 
 
 To Jenifer la said, " Look after father; 
 an" if ever you love a man, though I say it, 
 let your heart tell 'ee what's right." 
 
 She pressed Joel's hand. These two 
 parted without words. Their passions puri- 
 fied, they went their ways : he back to the 
 railway station, and so home to the familiar 
 toil ; she out through the yellow fogs of 
 Mersey, looking forward to a new life, hold- 
 ing her boy's hand, wondering.
 
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