sorry for them, He smiles upon us and holds out His loving arms to
us, and yet we turn our backs upon Him, and walk about in the shadows
with our heads bent down, and our eyes fixed upon the ground. Every
morning, mother says, when the sun rises, God is telling us, 'This is
how I love you, this is how I will fill your hearts with warmth and
light and joy.' Now, isn't that true, 'n'wncwl Ebben?"

"What about the mornings when the mist does not clear away, lass, but
turns to driving rain?"

"Oh, well, then," said Morva, not a whit daunted, "the rain and the
clouds are wanted sometimes for the good of the earth, and, remember,
'tis only a thin veil they make; the sunshine is behind them all the
time, filling up the blue air, and ready to shine through the least
break in the clouds. And, after all, 'n'wncwl Ebben," she added, in a
coaxing tone, "'tis very seldom the mornings do turn to rain and fog.
You and I, who are out on the mountains so early, know that better than
the townspeople, who lie in bed till nine o'clock, they say, and often
by that time the glory of the morning is shaded over."

"Well, perhaps," he said. "Thou art more apt to count the clear dawns,
while I count the grey ones."

"Twt, twt, you must leave off counting the grey ones. There's a verse
in mother's Bible that says, 'Forgetting the things which are behind,
and reaching forth unto those things which are before.'"

"Yes, indeed, 'merch i, I've read it many times, but I never thought
much of the meaning of it before. 'Tis a comforting verse, whatever,
and I will look for it in my Bible."

"Yes, I suppose 'tis in every Bible," said Morva, with a merry laugh;
"but, indeed, I feel as if mother's brown Bible was the best in the
world, and was full of messages to brighten our lives. Didn't I say I
was a foolish girl?"

"Thee't a good girl, whatever; but 'tis time to milk the cows."

"Yes, indeed. Let me shut the door and I will come back with you."
And as she ran over the dewy grass, he looked after her with a smile.

"She's got the sea wind in her heels, I think," he said.

He chatted cheerfully as they walked home together, and gladdened Ann's
heart by making a good breakfast.

In the course of the morning Morva entered the best kitchen, bearing a
letter which Dyc "pigstye" had just brought from Pont-y-fro.

"Tis from Will, 'n'wncwl Ebben," said the girl; "here are your glasses,
or will I call Ann to read it to you?"

"Let me see,