e, but I wouldn't
venture in the tren for the whole world!"

"I'm not afraid of it," said Sara, "but I have never seen it. 'Twould
be strange to me, and the shipping comes more natural, so I'm going to
Caer-Madoc, for I know the steamer sails from there to Cardiff every
Tuesday. I hope I will be there in time; but tell me, Nani, about
Kitty your daughter."

"She is married again, and such a good husband she has. John Parry
nearly killed her, pwr thing, and then he died, and she married this
man--his name is Jones."

"But I want to know," said Sara, "did she say anything about Gethin
Owens when she was here?"

"She said she was never seeing him, and she didn't know why he was
keeping away from her, and the sailors were often seeing him about the
docks, but she didn't know where he was lodging now. There's glad I
was to see her; but indeed, Sara fach, it cost me a lot of money, 'cos
she's got a good appetite, whatever. 'Tis a great waste to come all
that long way by the tren. She wants to come again, and if it wasn't
for the money--"

Sara, who had no sympathy with the parsimony of many of her class, rose
to go.

"Well, I won't stop longer, Nani fach; good-bye and thank you."

When she saw her visitor was really going, Nani was profuse in her
offers of hospitality.

"Going! Caton pawb! not without breakfast?"

But Sara was gone, and already making her way to the high road which
led along the brow of the hill to Caer-Madoc. It was twenty years
since she had last been in the town, and even in this remote place
twenty years had brought changes--the busy streets, the shops, the
cries of the vendors of herrings and cockles, would have bewildered and
puzzled her had she not been possessed by a strong purpose and
sustained by that faith which can move mountains. Aided by old
memories she found her way to the quay and to the small steamer with
the long English name, which plied twice a week between the ports of
Caer-Madoc and Cardiff.

"Are you going to Cardiff?" she asked the master, who stood on the quay.

"Why, yes, of course this is the day, and we are starting in a quarter
of an hour. Who are you?" he said, looking with amused curiosity at
the quaint figure with her crutch stick and black bundle.

"I am Sara Lloyd of Garthowen Moor, and I want to go with you to
Cardiff. Will you take me?"

"Of course, little woman, if you can pay."

"Oh, yes," said Sara, undoing the corner of her pocket-handkerc