"I'd think of en no more if I was you, Joe," said Uncle Chirgwin. "Leave the likes of en to the God of en. Brace yourself agin this sore onset an' pray to Heaven to forgive all sinners."
Noy looked at the old man and his great jaw seemed to spread laterally with his thought.
"God have gived the man to me! that's why I be here: to knaw all any can teach me. I've got to be the undoin' o' that devil—the undoin' an' death of en. I'll be upsides wi' the man if it takes me fifty year to do it. Awnly 'more haste, more let.' I shall go slow an' sure. That's why I comed here fust thing."
Mr. Chirgwin looked extremely alarmed, and Mary spoke.
"This be wild, wicked talkin', Joe Noy, an' no mort o' sorrer as ever was can excuse sich words as them. 'Tedn' no task o' yourn to take the Lard's work out His hand that way. He'll pay the evil-doer his just dues wi'out no help from you."
"I've got a voice in my ear, Mary—a voice louder'n any human voice; an' it bids me be doin' as the instrument of God A'mighty's just rage. If you can help me, then I bid you do it, if not, let me be away. Did you read any o' that theer letter—so much as a word, or did 'e larn wheer 'twas writ from?"
"If I knawed, I shouldn't tell 'e, not now. I'd sooner cut my tongue out than aid 'e 'pon the road you'm set. An' you a righteous thinkin' man wance!"
He looked at her and there was that in his face which showed a mind busy with time past. His voice had changed and his eyes softened.
"I be punished for much, Mary Chirgwin. I be punished wi' loss an' wi' sich work put on me as may lead to a terrible ugly plaace at the end. But theer 'tis. Like the chisel in the hand o' the carpenter, so I be a sharp tool in the Lard's grip."
"Never! You be a poor, dazed worm in the grip o' your awn evil thots! You'm foxing [Footnote: Foxing—Deceiving.] yourself, Joe; you'm listenin' to the devil an' tellin' yourself 'tis God—knawin' 'tedn' so all the while. Theer's no religion as would put you in the right wi' sich notions as them. Listen to your awn small guidin' voice, Joe Noy; listen to me, or to Luke Gosp'lers or any sober-thinkin', God-fearin' sawl. All the world would tell 'e you was wrong—all the wisdom o' the airth be agin you, let alone heaven."