re coming to."

"But, Mr. Price, sir, you haven't asked the price of the pig," said the
farmer, with a gasp.

"Bless me! no!" said the vicar, "I quite forgot that," and he laughed
heartily at his own want of thought. "But I'm sure it won't be much.
Two or three pounds, I suppose!"

"Two pounds I thought of getting for this one, and two pound ten for
the other."

"Very cheap, too," said the vicar, drawing out the two sovereigns from
his waistcoat pocket.

Leaving the pen in charge of a friend, Ebben Owens accompanied Mr.
Price in a state of joyful bewilderment. To walk up the street, in
friendly converse with the vicar, he felt would do more than anything
else to reinstate him in the good opinion of his neighbours, and as
they passed through the crowded market in animated and confidential
conversation, the hard verdict which many a man had passed on his
conduct was changed into one of pitying sympathy.

"Well," they thought, "the vicar has forgiven him, whatever, and he is
a good man."

Sitting in the vicarage dining-room, listening to the praises of his
beloved son, Ebben Owens became less depressed, and felt braver to meet
the consequences of his confession.

Although he never discovered that the purchase of the pig was but a
blind of the vicar's to hide his plans for helping him to regain, in
some degree, the respect of his neighbours, Ebben Owens never forgot
the strengthening sympathy held out to him on that much dreaded
morning, and Price the vicar became to him ever after, the exemplar of
all Christian graces.

"There's a man now," he would say, rubbing his knees as he sat under
the big chimney at home; "there's a man now, is fit to help you in this
world, and to guide you to the next; and there's the truth! But he
does not know much about pigs."

The prospect of seeing Will once more in his old home shed a radiance
over everything, and in spite of the humiliation and contrition which
overshadowed him, a new-born calmness and peace gradually filled his
heart.

To Morva too had come a season of content and joy--why, she could not
tell, for she was not free from anxiety concerning Sara's prolonged
absence. Certainly the longing for Gethin's return increased every
day, but in spite of this, life seemed to hold for her a cup brimming
over with happiness. Going home through the gloaming one evening,
singing the refrain of her milking song, she broke off suddenly and
began to run towards the cottage