went singing through the farmyard, and along the fields to
the Cribserth; but to-day it was a hymn tune of mournful minor melody
which woke the echoes from moor and cliff. Rounding the ridge, the
same fair view greeted her eyes, as had chased away Will's ill-temper
on the preceding evening, and she sat a moment under the shadow of a
broom bush to ponder, for Morva was a girl of many thoughts though her
mind was perfectly uneducated, her heart and soul were alive with
earnest questions. Her seventeen years had been spent in close
companionship with a woman of exceptional character, and although the
girl did not share in the abnormal sensitiveness of her foster-mother,
she had gained from her intimacy with her, an unusual receptivity to
all the delicate influences of Nature. Sara claimed to be clairvoyant,
though she had never heard the word. Morva was clear seeing only; her
pure and simple spirit was undimmed by any mists of worldly ideas; no
subterfuge or plausible excuse ever hid the truth from her, and yet in
spite of this crystal innocence, she kept her engagement to Will a
secret from all the world, excepting Sara.

It is the custom of the country to keep a love affair a secret as long
as possible; if it is discovered and talked about by outside gossips,
half its delight and charm is gone; indeed it is considered indelicate
to show any signs of love-making in public. It is true that this
secrecy often leads to serious mischief, but, on the other hand, there
is much to be said for the sensitive modesty of the Welsh maiden, when
compared with an English girl's too evident appreciation of her lover's
attentions in public. So hitherto Morva had followed Will's lead, and
shown no signs of more than the love and affection which was naturally
to be expected from her close intercourse with the Garthowen family
from babyhood. Did she feel anything more? She thought she did. From
childhood she had been promised to Will; the idea of marrying him when
they were both grown to manhood and maidenhood had been familiar to her
ever since she could remember. It caused no excitement in her mind, no
tumult in her heart. It was in the nature of things--it was Will's
wish--it was her fate! She did not rebel against it, but it woke no
thrill of delight within her. She had promised, and the idea of
breaking that promise was one that never entered her mind; but this
evening, as she sat under the broom bush, a curious feeling of