meant lately. _They_ are calling me, Morva; _they_ have been calling
me since the turn of the year, and I have closed my ears. But
now"--and she stood up, though still leaning on her stick--"but now I
must go."

Morva looked at her in astonishment, for the aged form seemed to grow
young again with the strength of purpose within it. The gentle face
appeared to lose the wrinkles of age. In the fitful light of the fire,
it took again the lines of beauty and youth which had once belonged to
it.

"Thou must not be surprised, child," she added, "if some evening when
thou com'st home from the farm thou shalt find the house empty. The
key will be on the lintel, and thou must come in and wait in patience
till I return. I thought there was nothing more for me to do, but I
see it now," and with her stick she pointed into the dark corner where
the spinning-wheel stood, and the red earthen pitcher which went so
often to the well. "I see it, 'merch i; 'tis a journey for me. I
don't see quite where it ends, but I will be safe, Morva, for God is
everywhere. _They_ are calling me, and they will bring me safe home
again. Let me go, child; 'tis to fetch a blessing for Garthowen and
for thee, so don't thee fret, lass. Then my work will be done; there
will be only one more journey for me--the last! and from that thou wilt
not see me return. But I will be with thee, and thee must not sorrow
for me."

"Oh, mother," said the girl, burying her face in her apron, "are you
going to die? How can I live in this world without you?" And swaying
backwards and forwards, she cried bitterly.