silent, the fire only crackling on the hearth. The old cat slept on
the spinning bench, and Sara lay there unconscious and dead to all
outward surroundings. Morva approached her softly, and pressed a kiss
on the marble forehead; she felt her hands, they were supple though
cold; the eyes were closed and the breathing was scarcely perceptible,
but Morva had no fear for Sara's safety. She gently raised her feet
upon the rush stool, and rested her head more comfortably; then bolting
the door and making up the fire, she took her supper and prepared for a
long night's vigil.

And now came one of those seasons of contemplation and of wondering awe
which Sara's trances brought into Morva's simple life, which made her
somewhat different from the other girls of the neighbourhood, yet in no
way detracted from the brightness and cheerfulness of her character.
Magw, the house servant, was often out under the stars, but she paid
more attention to the stubble in the farmyard than to the glittering
spangled sky above her. Dyc "pigstye" often passed over the cliffs and
up the moor, but his own whistle, the bleat of the sheep, the lowing of
the herds, were more to him than the whispers of the sea or the singing
of the larks. Ebben Owens was out from morning to night, in the
brilliant sunshine, and under the mellow moon, but they taught no tale
to him, and brought no messages to his soul, save of crops, of work, of
harvests. But to Morva, every tint of broom or heather, every shade of
sea or sky, every flower that unfolded in the sunshine spoke and
stirred within her sentiments of love and wonder which she had no words
to express, but which left their impress upon her spirit.

Sitting by the fire on her low stool, she kept a careful watch over the
still figure on the other side of the hearth. The night wind sighed in
the chimney, the owls hooted, and the sea whispered its mysterious