CHAPTER XX

LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE

It was nearly midnight, and still Sara and Morva sat over the fire in
earnest conversation. The March wind roared in the chimney, the sound
of the sea came up the valley. Outside, under the night sky, the furze
and broom bushes waved and bowed to each other, and in the sheltered
cwrt the daffodils under the hedge nodded and swayed in the wind; but
the two women inside the cottage were too much engrossed in their
conversation, and with their thoughts, to notice the wildness of the
night. Often they sat in silence, broken by occasional words of sorrow.

"Oh, poor 'n'wncwl Ebben! No wonder he was sitting thinking and
thinking in the chimney-corner!"

"No, no wonder indeed, och i! och i! But now he has done the best
thing for his own peace of mind."

"Peace of mind!" said Morva. "I am afraid he will never have that,
mother. He said when we were walking home together that he wished he
could die; and I'm afraid he will before long. He is breaking his
heart for his two sons."

Sara did not answer; she was gazing at the glowing fire, whose flames
and sparks chased each other up the chimney. At last she straightened
herself.

"Garthowen shall not die while I can help him, Morva," she said. "I
have seen all this coming, 'merch i, and I know now what my dreams have