e between."

"Yes, true," said Will; "but between me and thee, Morva, nothing has
ever come. Promise me once more, that when I have a home for thee thou
wilt marry me and come and live with me. My love for thee is the only
shadow on my future, because I fear sometimes that something will part
us, and yet, lass, it is the brightest spot, too--dost believe me?"

"Yes," said Morva, with eyes cast down upon the wild thyme which her
fingers were idly plucking, "I believe thee, Will. What need is there
to say more? I have promised thee to be thy wife, and dost think I
would break my word? Never! unless, Will, thou wishest it thyself.
Understand, that when once I am sure that thou hast changed thy mind
then I will never marry thee."

"That time will never come," said Will; and they sat and talked till
the evening shadows lengthened and till the sun sank low in the west;
then they parted, and Morva once more turned her footsteps homewards.
She walked more soberly than before, and there was no song upon her
lips.

CHAPTER V

THE SEA MAIDEN

Sara was sitting at tea when the girl arrived. Through the open
doorway came the glow of the sunset, with the humming of bees and the
smell of the thyme and the bean flowers.

"Thou hast something to ask me, Morva. What is it?" she said, making
room for her at the little round table in the chimney corner.

"Oh, 'tis nothing, I suppose," said Morva, cutting herself a long slice
of the flat barley loaf; "only 'tis the same old questions that are
often troubling me. What is going to become of me? What is in the
future for me? I used to think when I grew to be a woman I would marry
Will, and settle down at Garthowen close to you here, mother fach, and
take care of 'n'wncwl Ebben when Ann and Gwilym Morris were married;
but now, somehow, it all seems altered."

The old woman looked at her long and thoughtfully.

"Wait until later, child," she said. "Clear away the tea, tidy up the
hearth, and let me read my chapter while the daylight lasts," and
finishing her tea Morva did as she was bid.

Later on in the evening, sitting on the low rush stool opposite to
Sara, she continued her inquiries.

"Tell me, mother, about Will and Gethin when they were boys. Was
Gethin so very wicked?"

"Wicked? No," said Sara, "never wicked. Wild and mischievous and full
of pranks he was, but the truest, the kindest boy in the world was
Gethin Owens Garthowen."

"And Will?"

"Will