ed about with an imaginary pail on his head.
"Well, I heard afterwards that Ebben Owens treated her shocking bad,
and married another girl, with money, but they say he never cared for
her, and was never happy with her; and serve him right, say I. Dear!
dear! how the time slips by!"

"Yes," said Sara, "he is an old man now, and in sore trouble. I live
on his land, and I want to bring happiness back to Garthowen."

"Of course, of course!" said the captain, "but indeed; little woman,
I'm afraid you'll have hard work, for there's something strange about
that lad lately; he's keeping with the English sailors when he's in
port and avoiding all his old companions. I have heard my son tell of
him too, and how altered he is, and how angry the Welsh sailors are
with him, but I believe he is stiddy and upright."

"Well," said Sara, "if I can only have a word with him 'twill be all
right."

"Jar-i! you have pluck, little woman, and 'tis well to have a friend
like you. Well, I'll do my best for you. I'll find you a night's
lodging and somebody to show you the way about next day. Mrs. Jones,
Bryn Street, would take you in; it's where I go myself when I do spend
a night ashore."

"A hundred thanks. That's where I'd like to go because I know her and
her mother."

When the captain left her she fell into a reverie, her sweet, patient
face, with its delicate complexion, lighted up by the images of
retrospection; the dark blue eyes, which held so much insight and
purpose in their depths, were still beautiful under their arched
eyebrows, the soft, straight fringe of hair combed down over her
forehead like a little child's showed the iron-grey of age, and the
mouth, a little sunken, told the same tale, but the spirit of love and
peace within preserved to Sara a beauty that was not dependent upon
outward form. It was felt by all who came in contact with her, and
perhaps was the cause of the curious feeling of awe with which her
neighbours regarded her.

As the little puffing steamer ploughed her way through the clear, green
water, the ever-changing sky of a March day overhead, the snow-white
wreaths of spray, the clear white line of the horizon, the soft grey,
receding shore, all unheeded by the captain and his three subordinates,
aroused in Sara's mind the intense pleasure that only a heart at peace
with itself and with Nature can feel, and as she leant her soft veined
hands on her crutched stick, resting her chin upon them,