wiser and a better woman after my long sleep. It is always so, I
think, Morva."

"Yes," said the girl, "you are always wiser, and better, and kinder
after your long sleeps, if that is possible, mother fâch."

Sara's ordinary cheerful and placid manner had already returned to her,
and in an hour or two she was quite herself again, and moving about her
cottage as if nothing had happened; and when Morva left her for the
morning milking she felt no uneasiness about her.

"She's in the angels' keeping, I know, and God is over all," she
murmured, as she ran over the cliffs to Garthowen.

She said nothing at the farm of the events of the past night, knowing
how reticent Sara was upon the subject herself. Moreover, it was one
of too sacred a character in the eyes of these two lonely women to be
discussed with the outside and unbelieving world.

In the evening, when Morva returned from the farm, a little earlier
than usual, she was full of tender inquiries.

"Are you well, mother fâch? I have been uneasy about you."

"Quite well, child, and very happy. 'Twill all be right soon, Morva.
Canst take my word for it? For I cannot explain how I know, but I tell
thee thy trouble will soon be over. How are they at Garthowen
to-night?"

"Oh, well," said the girl; "only 'n'wncwl Ebben is always very sad.