"Not yet, my child, not yet; I have work to do and there are happy days
in store for us both; but some day, Morva, it must come, and when it
comes thou must not grieve for me. Come, 'merch i, 'tis late; let us
go to bed."

And the girl, somewhat comforted, dried her eyes and closed the rickety
door. She slept heavily after her late watching, so heavily that she
did not hear when Sara rose in the grey of the dawn. At her usual time
Morva rose too, and immediately missed her mother. A wild fear
throbbed through her heart as she searched in and out of the cottage.

"Mother!" she called up the step ladder which led to the loft, out in
the cwrt and in the garden. "Mother fâch! where are you?" But there
was no answer, and she realised that Sara had gone, and that she was
alone!

After the first pang of fright, a calmness and even happiness entered
her heart; she had learnt to put implicit trust in her strange
foster-mother, and a feeling of complete reassurance and content began
to take possession of her mind.

It would be well with Sara, for whatever she attempted she never failed
to accomplish, and it would be well with Garthowen too! "Her ways are
blessed," said the girl, clasping her hands, and returning to her
solitary breakfast. "The spirits have her in their keeping, that I
know, and she will come back and bring us joy and happiness!"

Whether in the depths of her heart it was dawning upon her what
blessing she expected from Sara's pilgrimage is difficult to know;
perhaps unconsciously she already nourished the hope which was to grow