y she caught sight of Valmai, who was making a difficult
progress through the soft uneven sand, and a look of surprise and
pleasure came over her face.

"Oh, dear heart, is it you, indeed, come to see old Nance, and on such
a day? Come in, sweetheart, out of the storm."

"The storm indeed," said Valmai, in Welsh as pure as Nance's own, as
the old woman drew her in to the cottage and closed the door. "Why,
you know nothing about it on this side of the island, nothing of what
it is in the village. The boats have all been drawn up close to the
road, and the waves are dancing and prancing on the beach, I can tell
you."

Nance loosened her cloak and hat, and smoothed her hair with her horny
hands.

"There's glad I am to see you, merch fach-i, and if you have no grand
friends to keep you company and no one to look after you, you have
always got old Nance to love you."

"Yes, I know that, Nance, indeed. What do you think of my new frock?"
said the girl, holding out her skirt to the admiring gaze of the old
woman, who went into raptures of admiration.

"Oh, there's pretty. 'Tis fine and soft, but white, always white you
are wearing--"

"Yes, I like white," said Valmai.

"And didn't I dress you in your first little clothes? Well I remember
it."

"There's just what I wanted to ask you about, Nance; I love to hear the
old story."

"After tea, then, merch i, for now I must go and fetch water from the
well, and I must milk the goat."

"I will fetch the water," said Valmai; "you can go and milk."

And taking the red stone pitcher from the bench by the wall she went
out, and, sheltered by the ridge of rocks behind which the cottage
stood, made her way to the spring which dripped from a crack in the
cliffs. While she waited for the pitcher to fill, she sang, in sheer
lightness of heart, the old ballad which not only floated on the air of
Abersethin and its neighbourhood, but which she had heard her mother
sing in the far-off land of her childhood.

"By Berwen's banks my love has strayed
For many a day through sun and shade,"

and she paused to peep into the pitcher, but finding it only half full,
continued:

"And as she carolled loud and clear
The little birds flew down to hear."

"By Berwen's banks the storm rose high,"

but the pitcher was full, so, resting it on her side, she carried it
home, before Nance had caught her goat. When she returned with her
bowl of rich milk, Valmai was busy, wi