Garthowen. Allen Raine

when they come they will prick thee like that furze."

      "And I will stamp them out as I do these furze, mother," and again she laughed merrily, but ceased suddenly, and, with her finger held up, listened intently.

      "What is that sound?" she asked. "It is some one brushing through the heather and furze. Who can it be? Is it Will?"

      Both women were fluttered and frightened, for such a thing as a footstep approaching their door at so late an hour was seldom heard, for at Garthowen they all retired early, and the cottagers in the village below avoided Sara as something uncanny, and looked askance even at Morva, who seemed not to have much in common with the other girls of the countryside.

      "'Tis a man's step," she whispered, "and he is coming into the cwrt," and, while she was still speaking, there came a firm, though not loud, knock at the door.

      Morva shrank a little under the big chimney, where she stood in the glow of the flaming furze; but Sara rose without hesitation, and going to the door, opened it wide.

      "Who is here so late at night?" she asked.

      "Shall I come in, Sara, and I will explain?" said a pleasant, though unknown voice. "'Twas to Garthowen I was going, but when I reached there every light was put out, so I wouldn't wake the old man from his first sleep, and I have come on here to see can you let me sleep here to-night? Dost know me, Sara?"

      "Gethin Owens!" exclaimed the old woman, with delighted surprise. "My dear boy, come in!"

      There was no light in the cottage except that of the fitful furze fire, so that when Gethin entered he exclaimed at the darkness,

      "Sara fâch, let's have a light, for I am longing to see thee!"

      Morva threw a fresh furze branch on the fire. The motion attracted Gethin's attention, and as the quick flame leaped up, the girl stood revealed. While Sara fumbled about for the candle the flame burnt out, and for a moment there was gloom again.

      "Hast one of thy spirits here, or was it an angel I saw standing there by the fire?" said the newcomer; but when Sara had succeeded in lighting the candle, he saw it was no spirit, but a creature of flesh and blood who stood before him.

      "No, no, 'tis only Morva," said Sara, dusting a chair and pushing it towards him. "Sit thee down, my boy, and let me have a good look at thee. Well! well! is it Gethin, indeed? this great big man, so tall and broad."

      But Gethin's eyes were fixed upon the girl, who still stood astonished and bewildered under the chimney.

      "Morva!" he said, "is this little Morva, who cried so bad after me when I went away, and whom I have longed to see so often? Come, shake hands, lass; dost remember thy old playmate?" and he advanced towards her with both hands outstretched.

      Morva placed her own in his.

      "Yes, indeed," she answered, "now in the light I can see 'tis thee, Gethin—just the same and unaltered only—only—"

      "Only grown bigger and rougher and uglier, but never mind; 'tis the same old Gethin who carried thee about the slopes on his shoulders, but, dei anwl! I didn't expect to see thee so altered and so—so pretty."

      Morva blushed but ignored the compliment.

      "Well, indeed, there's glad they'll be to see thee at Garthowen."

      "Dost think?"

      "Yes, indeed; but won't I put him some supper, mother?"

      "Yes, 'merch i, put on the milk porridge."

      And Morva, glad to hide her embarrassment, set about preparing the evening meal, for Gethin's eyes told the admiration which he dared not speak. His gaze followed her about as she mixed the milk and the oatmeal in the quaint old iron crochon.

      "'Twill soon be ready; thee must be hungry, lad," said Sara, laying the bowls and spoons in readiness on the table.

      "Yes, I am hungry, indeed, for I have walked all the way from Caer-Madoc. 'Tis Sunday, thee seest, so there were no carts coming along the road. Halt, halt, lass!" he said, "let me lift that heavy crochon for thee."

      "Canst sleep on the settle, Gethin?" asked the old woman, "for I have no bed for thee. I will spread quilts and pillows on it."

      Gethen laughed boisterously.

      "Quilts and pillows, indeed, for a man who has slept on the hard deck, on the bare ground, on a coil of ropes; and once on a floating spar, when I thought sleep was death, and welcomed it too."

      "Hast seen many hardships then, dear lad?" said Sara. "Perhaps when we were sleeping sound in out beds, thou hast oftentimes been battling with death and shipwreck."

      "Not often, but more than once, indeed," said Gethin.

      "Thou must tell us after supper some of thy wonderful escapes."

      "Yes, I'll tell you plenty of yarns," said Gethin, his eyes still following Morva's movements.

      A curious silence had fallen upon the girl, generally so ready to talk in utter absence of self-consciousness. She served the porridge into the black bowls, and shyly pushed Gethin's towards him, cutting him a slice of the barley bread and butter.

      "I have left my canvas bag at Caer-Madoc," said Gethin, when he had somewhat appeased his appetite. "'Twill come up to Garthowen to-morrow. I have a present in it for thee, Morva."

      "For me?" said the girl, and a flood of crimson rushed into her face. "I didn't think thee wouldst be remembering me."

      "There thou wast wrong, then," said Gethin, cutting himself another slice.

      "Well, indeed, I have never had a present before!"

      "I have one for Ann, and Will, and my father, God bless him! And how is good old Will?"

      "He is quite well," said Morva.

      "As industrious and good as ever? Dei anwl! there's a difference there was between me and him! You wouldn't think we were children of the same mother. Well, you can't alter your nature, and I'm afraid 'tis a bad lot Gethin Owens will be to the end!" And he laughed aloud, his black eyes sparkling, and the rings in his ears shining out in the gloom of the cottage.

      Morva looked at the stalwart form, the swarthy skin, the strong, even teeth, that gleamed so white under the black moustache, the jet-black hair, the broad shoulders, and thought how proud Ann would be of such a brother.

      They sat long into the night, Sara gathering from the young man the history of all his varied experiences since he had left his father's home; Morva listening intently as she cleared away the supper, Gethin's eyes following her light figure with fascinated gaze.

      At last the door was bolted, the fire swept up, and Sara and Morva, retiring to the penucha, left Gethin to his musings, which, however, quickly resolved themselves into a heavy, dreamless sleep, that lasted until the larks were singing above the moor on the following morning.

      4 Sea-maiden.

      5 Spirit Sara.