orris at the
same moment caught them up from behind, and Ebben Owens felt that his
cup of earthly happiness was refilled almost to overflowing. Gethin
alone missed Morva.

CHAPTER XXIV

A DANCE ON THE CLIFFS

On the following morning Gethin was up with the dawn, and so was every
one else at Garthowen, for the day seemed one of re-birth and renewal
of the promise of life to all. Leading his son from cowhouse to barn,
from barn to stable, Ebben Owens dilated with newly-awakened pleasure
upon the romance of Will's marriage, and on his coming visit with his
bride to his old home, Gethin listening with untiring patience, as he
followed his father from place to place. The new harrow and pigstye
were inspected, the two new cows and Malen's foal were interviewed, and
then came Gethin's hour of triumph, when with pardonable pride he
informed his father of his own savings, and of the legacy which had so
unexpectedly increased his store; also of his plans for the future
improvement of the farm. Ebben Owens sat down on the wheel-barrow on
purpose to rub his knees, and Gethin's eyes sparkled with pleasure, but
he looked round in vain for Morva. Some new-born shyness had
overwhelmed her to-day; she could not make up her mind to meet Gethin.
She had longed for the meeting so much, and now that it was within her
reach, she put the joy away from her, with the nervous indecision of a
child.

"Have the cows been milked?" asked Gethin, casting his eyes again over
the farmyard.

"Oh, yes," said Magw, "while you were in the barn, Morva helped me, and
ran home directly; she said her mother wanted her."

All the morning she was absent, and nobody noticed it except Gethin,
and Gwilym Morris, who, with his calm, observant eyes, had long
discovered the secret of their love for each other. An amused smile
hovered round his lips as, later in the forenoon, he entered the best
kitchen bringing Gethin with him from the breezy hillside. Morva was
tying Gwil's cap on when they entered, and could no longer avoid the
meeting; but if Gwilym had expected a rapturous greeting, he was
disappointed; for no shy schoolboy and girl ever met in a more
undemonstrative manner than did these two, who for so long had hungered
for each other's presence.

"Hello, Morva! How art, lass, this long time?" said Gethin, taking her
hand in his big brown palm in an awkward, shame-faced manner, and
dropping it at once as if it had scorched him.

"Well,