Lying Prophets | Page 7

sea again.
"By the way," he said, unconcernedly, and with no suggestion that
anything in particular was responsible for his politeness. "I see you are
on the lookout there for something. You may have my glass a moment,
if you like, before I go on. They bring the ships very close."
The girl flushed with shy pleasure and seemed a little uncertain what to
answer. Barron, meanwhile, showed no trace of a smile, but looked
bored if anything, and, with a serious face, handed her the glass, then
walked a little way off. He was grave and courteous, but made no
attempt at friendship. He had noticed when Joan smiled that her teeth
were fine, and that her full face, though sweet enough, was a shade too
plump.
"Thank 'e kindly, sir," she said, taking the glass. "You see theer's a gert
ship passin' down Channel, an'--an' my Joe's aboard 'er, an' they'm
bound for furrin' paarts, an' I promised as I'd come to this here
horny-winky [Footnote: Horny-winky--Lonely. Fit place for
horny-winks.] plaace to get a last sight o' the vessel if I could." He

made no answer, and, after a pause, she spoke again.
"I caan't see naught, but that's my fault, p'raps, not bein' used to sich
things."
"Let me try and find the ship," he said, taking the glass, which he had
put out of focus purposely. Then, while scanning the horizon where he
had noted the smoke-trail, he spoke, his head turned from her.
"Who's Joe, if I may ask? Your brother, I daresay?"
"No, sir; Joe'm my sweetheart."
"There's a big three-masted ship being taken down the Channel by a
small steamer."
"Ah! then I reckon that's the 'Anna,' 'cause Joe said 'twas tolerable
certain they'd be in tow of a tug."
"You can see the smoke on the edge of the sea. Look below it."
He handed the glasses to her again and heard a little laugh of delight
break from her lips. The surprise of the suddenly-magnified spectacle,
visible only as a shadow to the naked eye, brought laughter; and Barron,
now that the girl's attention was occupied, had leisure to look at her.
She was more than a pretty cottage maid, and possessed some
distinction and charm. There was a delicacy about her too--a sweet turn
of lip, a purity of skin, a set of limb--which gave the lie to her rough
speech. She was all Saxon to look at, with nothing of the Celt about her
excepting her name and the old Cornish words upon her lips. Those he
rejoiced in, for they showed that she still remained a free thing,
primitive, innocent of School Boards, or like frost-biting influences.
Barron took mental notes. Joan Tregenza was a careless young woman,
it seemed. Her dress had a button or two missing in front, and a
safety-pin had taken their place. Her drab skirt was frayed a little and
patched in one corner with a square of another material. But the colors
were well enough, from the artist's point of view. He noted also that the

girl's stockings were darned and badly needed further attention, for
above her right shoe-heel a white scrap of Joan was visible. Her hands
were a little large, but well shaped; her pose was free and fine, though
the field-glasses spoiled the picture and the sun-bonnet hid the contour
of her head.
"So you walked out from Mouzle to see the last of Joe's ship?" he asked,
quite seriously and with no light note in his voice.
"From Newlyn. I ed'n a Mouzle maid," she answered.
"Is the 'Anna' coming home again soon?"
"No, sir. Her's bound for the Gulf of Californy, round t'other side the
world, Joe sez. He reckons to be back agin' come winter."
"That's a long time."
"Iss, 'tis."
But there was no sentiment about the answer. Joan gazed without a
shadow of emotion at the vanishing ship, and alluded to the duration of
her sweetheart's absence in a voice that never trembled. Then she gave
the glass back to Barron with many thanks, and evidently wanted to be
gone, but stopped awkwardly, not quite knowing how to depart.
Meanwhile, showing no further cognizance of her, Barron took the
glasses himself and looked at the distant ship.
"A splendid vessel," he said. "I expect you have a picture of her,
haven't you?"
"No," she answered, "but I've got a lil ship Joe cut out o' wood an'
painted butivul. Awnly that's another vessel what Joe sailed in afore."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said, "because you were good enough to
explain all about the fishing-boats. I'll make a tiny picture of the 'Anna'
and paint it and give it to you."

But the girl took fright instantly.
"You'm a artist, then?" she said,