d since on one occasion she observed him bobbing up and down
behind a hedge to watch her. Thomas was her favorite among the hands. He
had grown used to bringing her curiosities newly found, and others
chosen from a collection that extended back to his earliest youth. These
he would present for her inspection, as a dog lays a stick at his
mistress's feet. Jenny, although she was profoundly uninterested by the
cannon-ball he had found wedged between two rocks, by the George III
halfpenny turned up by the plough, by his strings of corks and bundles
of torn nets, was nevertheless touched by his offer to strike a "lemon"
for her under a jam-jar in the spring. Nor did she listen distastefully
to the long sing-song tales with which he entertained May.

The fine weather lasted right up to Christmas Day. Violets bloomed
against the white stones that edged the garden paths. Wallflowers wore
their brown velvet in sheltered corners and, best of all, bushes of
Brompton stocks in a sweetness of pink and gray scented the rich Cornish
winter. Jenny and May would wander up and down the garden with Granfa,
while the old man would tell in his high chant tales as long as Thomas's
of by-gone Australian adventures, tales ripened in the warmth of spent
sunshine, and sometimes stories of his own youth in Trewinnard with
memories of maids' eyes and lads' laughter. Then in January came storm
on storm, dark storms that thundered up the valley, dragging night in
their wake. Lambing went on out in the blackness, a dreadful experience,
Jenny thought, when Zachary came in at all hours, sometimes stained with
blood in the lantern light. Jenny was scarcely aware of her husband in
the daytime. The volubility which had distinguished his conversation in
London was not apparent here. Indeed, he scarcely spoke except in
monosyllables, and spent all his time working grimly on the farm. He did
not seem to notice Jenny, and never inquired into her manner of passing
the day. She was his, safe and sound in Cornwall, a handsome property
like a head of fine stock. He had desired her deeply and had gained his
desire. Now, slim and rosy, she was still desirable; but, as Jenny
herself half recognized, too securely fastened, too easily attainable
for any misgiving. She certainly had no wish for a closer intimacy, and
was very thankful for the apparent indifference which he felt towards
her. She would have been horrified, had he suggested sharing her walks
with May, had