he sky, they conversed together in that
perfect communion of soul which sometimes gilds the friendship of old
age. Together they had experienced the joys of youth, in middle age
both had tasted the bitterness of sorrow, and now in old age the calm
and peace of evening was beginning to shine upon one as it had long
shone upon the other.

"I have never thanked thee," he said at last, "for all thy
loving-kindness to me; never in words, Sara, but I have felt it; and I
thank God that thou art living here so near me, where I can come
sometimes for refreshment of spirit, as my journey draws towards the
end, for I am a weak man, as thou knowest, and often stumble in my
path. Ever since that first mistake of my life I have suffered the
punishment of it, Sara, and thou hast reaped the golden blessing."

"Yes," said Sara, looking dreamily over the garden hedge, "I have had
more than compensation, my cup is full and running over. No one can
understand how bright life is to me," and over her face there spread a
light and rapture which Ebben Owens gazed at with a kind of wondering
reverence.

"There's no doubt thou hast something within thee that few others
have," he said, with a shake of his head.

Here Morva arrived from the milking, and finding them still sitting in
the sunshine in earnest conversation, held her finger up reprovingly,
and begged them to come in to breakfast.

"Oh, stop, 'n'wncwl Ebben, and have breakfast with us. Uwd it is, and
fresh milk from Garthowen."

"No, no, child," said the old man, rising. "Ann will be waiting for
me; I must go at once."

"Well indeed, she was laying the breakfast. She doesn't want me
to-day, she says, so I am stopping at home with mother to weed the
garden."

And as Ebben Owens trudged homewards, her happy voice followed him,
breaking clear on the morning air as she sang in the joy other heart:

"Troodie! Troodie! come down from the mountain;
Troodie! Troodie! come up from the dale;
Moelen and Corwen, and Blodwen and Trodwen,
I'll meet you all with my milking-pail!"

The echo of it brought a pleased smile to the old man's lips, as he
neared his home and left the clear singing behind him.

The day had broadened to noontide, and had passed into late afternoon,
when Gethin Owens once more crept round the Cribserth. He crept,
because he heard the sound of Morva's voice, and he would come upon her
unawares--would see the sudden start, the shy surprise, the pink