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Joan, The Curate.

his lady," said Tregenna, dryly, "to be harboring any of your kin, Ann, more especially after my discovery in the coach-house this morning!"

"I am not here, sir, as a smuggler, but as a homeless farmer's daughter," returned Ann, in the same modest, even tone. "I believe I am reckoned worth my salt with a broom in my hand, as well as in the dairy."

"Nay, nay, 'tis not for your services with mop and churn they take you in, Ann, I know that," said Tregenna. "You would have done best to keep out of my way a few days, after your doings of last night. 'Tis not your fault your rascally crew did not make an end to me, when you sent them in pursuit of me, as you did!"

"Nay, sir, if I did," answered Ann, with a sudden change to a soft voice and a pleading manner which had in it something strangely attractive, by reason of its unexpectedness, "'twas done in the heat of unreasoning passion, and without a thought of what grave consequences it might bring upon you. If they had really harmed you, by my troth I would never have spoke to one of them again."