It was an over cast day on the Cornish coast, the wind whipped through the girls tiny frame, blowing her shawl off her shoulders, which she had to pull on now and again. It was hard because she was trying to balance the firewood in her arms too. A figure on a big dark brown shining Irish Draught horse was elegantly trotting on the cliff top above her, he gazed out at the sea as it rolled in and out gently.
Isla was oblivious to the brooding man on top of the windy coast, the wind blowing his steeds mane and his hair back gently. Then he trotted to his farm. Soon night fell and Isla had to return to her home, but on the way back she found a barrel of rum had fallen off a cart, she couldn't take it back because her father would drink himself in to a stupor and she always got the worst of it, she had scars to prove it.
She walked with her eyes looking at the ground, she wasn't proud enough and didn't have the courage to look at anyone else. Isla soon came to her run down rotting cottage, the windows were broken, there was moss growing on the outside of the wooden panels of the house.
Isla could only support her brother and sister as they were poor, the stable hand that she was, wasn't even good enough pay, the money she earns, her father drinks it away. She stepped through the door and straight away her father ordered her to light the fire, but the wood was too wet to light.
"You useless girl, light the fire!" he repeated himself.
"I can't its wet" she growled back.
"Then dry it!" he ordered.
So Isla did the best she could to dry the wood, and then piled it into the fireplace then lit it. "Get the food ready!" he continued.
"We don't have any thing other than bread" she told him.
"Then you're going to have to steal next door neighbours crops" he told her.
"But I can't" she said to him.
"You will if you want to feed your family!" he yelled grabbing her by the arm and pushing her out of the door. She pulled the shawl over her head and made her way to the neighbouring farm. Where the man with the Irish Draught horse lived.
Isla hid herself amongst the crops and began to gather some, but she heard footsteps rustling towards her. "Who's there?" a deep voice called out.
Isla panicked and took what she had and tried to run, but the man saw her. "Stop, thief!" he yelled, no matter how fast she ran the man was quicker and grabbed her by her arm.
"Who are you to steal from me?" he bellowed.
"I am sorry sir but my family is poor, I have nothing to provide for them. My fathers a drunk and insisted that I find food for them" she said her eyes beginning to mist up with delicate crystal tears.
"Where is your home?" he asked her.
"A few miles from here" she answered pointing in the direction of her house.
He noticed the bruises on her arms. "Does he hurt you?" the man inquired with a concerned look. She didn't answer. "What's your name?" he quizzed her.
"Isla" she sobbed.
"Well Isla its too dark for you to walk back on your own, so I suggest you stay at my home, only for tonight as I can't allow a young woman like you to wander home by yourself" he told her.
"Okay" she agreed and put the crops in her basket and the man escorted her back to his cottage.
"Who are you?" she questioned him.
"Ross Poldark, I used to be a British Army Officer but I own a copper mine which I am working on to reopen" he explained.
"I can offer you a job in my home as part of the staff" he offered her. "I can take you away from the suffering and I can help to feed your children, as I've seen them around with you" he told her.
"Ohl Mr Poldark sir, they're not my children their my brother and sister" she corrected him.
"Forgive me, I didn't know" he replied. "And please call me Ross" he added.
"Ross I am sorry for stealing from you" she told him beginning to cry again.
"Its okay I know you were only trying to help your family" he told her resting his hand on her shoulder. They soon reached the small cottage that was a little better than her home. Ross showed her to her room, he left her some food and drink as his household keepers were asleep, he bid her goodnight ad then retired to his study, to work on his plans for his tin mine.
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