down one's life."

For a moment she stood alone in the moonlight, and what vows of
self-sacrifice she made were known only to herself.

"Anwl, anwl!" said Sara, as Will entered, "will I make my door bigger?
Will I find a stool strong enough for this big man?"

Will laughed and tossed back his hair.

"Will I ever be more than a boy to thee, Sara?"

"Well, indeed," said the old woman, "I am forgetting how the children
grow up. Sit down, my boy, and tell us all about the grand streets and
the college at Llaniago, and the ladies and gentlemen whom thou art
hand and glove with there--and so thou ought to be, too. Caton pawb!
I'd like to see the family whose achau[1] go back further than
Garthowen's!"

Here Morva entered.

"I thought thou hadst run away, lass!" said Will, with a double meaning
as he looked at her.

She only smiled and shook her head.

"Oh! 'twouldn't do for me," said Sara, "whenever Morva stops out under
the night sky to think she has run away; she often strays out when the
stars are shining."

Gethin had always been Sara's favourite, and Will's visit therefore did
not give her so much pleasure as his brother's had done; but she would
have belied her hospitable nature had she allowed this preference to
influence the warmth of her welcome.

Morva seemed to have regained her cheerfulness, and spread the simple
supper, sometimes joining in the conversation, while Will and Sara
chatted over the blaze of the crackling furze. It was quite late when
he rose to go.

"Well," he said, "they will be shutting me out at Garthowen, and
thinking I have learnt bad ways at Llaniago. Good-night, Sara fach, I
am glad to see thee looking so well. Good-night, Morva. Wilt come
with me a little way? 'Twill be an excuse for another ten minutes
under the stars, Sara."

And they went out together, their shadows blending into one in the
bright moonlight.

Once more Will extracted the oft-repeated promise, and Morva returned
to the cottage, her chains only riveted more firmly, and her heart
filled with a false strength, arising from an entire surrender of self
and all selfish desires to an imaginary duty.

[1] Pedigree.

CHAPTER XIV

DR. OWEN

It was New Year's Day, the merriest and most festive day of the year,
and Ebben Owens, sitting under the big chimney, seemed for a time at
least to have shaken off the cloud that had hung over him of late.

Christmas Day in Wales is by no means the day o