as their wishes led them
than as they were really warranted, found that the beautiful, beaming
Nest could be decided and saucy enough, and so they revenged themselves
by calling her a flirt. Her mother heard it and sighed; but Nest only
laughed.

It was her work to fetch water for the day's use from the well I told
you about. Old people say it was the prettiest sight in the world to see
her come stepping lightly and gingerly over the stones, with the pail of
water balanced on her head; she was too adroit to need to steady it with
her hand. They say, now that they can afford to be charitable and speak
the truth, that in all her changes to other people, there never was a
better daughter to a widowed mother than Nest. There is a picturesque
old farm-house under Moel Gwynn, on the road from Tre-Madoc to
Criccaeth, called by some Welsh name which I now forget; but its meaning
in English is "The End of Time;" a strange, boding, ominous name.
Perhaps the builder meant his work to endure till the end of time. I do
not know; but there the old house stands, and will stand for many a
year. When Nest was young, it belonged to one Edward Williams; his
mother was dead, and people said he was on the look-out for a wife. They
told Nest so, but she tossed her head and reddened, and said she thought
he might look long before he got one; so it was not strange that one
morning when she went to the well, one autumn morning when the dew lay
heavy upon the grass, and the thrushes were busy among the mountain-ash
berries, Edward Williams happened to be there on his way to the coursing
match near, and somehow his grayhounds threw her pail of water over in
their romping play, and she was very long in filling it again; and when
she came home she threw her arms round her mother's neck, and in a
passion of joyous tears told her that Edward Williams of The End of
Time, had asked her to marry him, and that she had said "Yes."

Eleanor Gwynn shed her tears too; but they fell quietly when she was
alone. She was thankful Nest had found a protector--one suitable in age
and apparent character, and above her in fortune; but she knew she
should miss her sweet daughter in a thousand household ways; miss her in
the evenings by the fire-side; miss her when at night she wakened up
with a start from a dream of her youth, and saw her fair face lying calm
in the moonlight, pillowed by her side. Then she forgot her dream, and
blessed her child, and slept again. Bu