there again."

"Wilt not, indeed?" asked Sara. "Wait till I've told thee all, my lad.
And now I have a strange story to tell thee, 'tis of thy poor old
father, Gethin."

"My father? what's the matter with him? Thou hast said he's alive,
what then? Is he ill? Not ill? What then, Sara?" and his face took a
frightened expression; "what evil has come upon the old man?"

His voice sank very low as he clutched the old woman's hand and wrung
it unconsciously.

"What is it? not shame, Sara--say, woman, 'tis not shame that has come
upon him in his old age!"

Sara was embarrassed for the first time.

"Shame," she said, "in the eyes of men, is sometimes honour in the eyes
of God! Listen, Gethin--Dost remember the night of thy going from
Garthowen?"

He nodded with a serious look in his eyes.

"That night I had a dream; only, I was awake when I saw it. I was at
Garthowen in my dream, and I saw a dark figure entering Gwilym Morris's
room; he stooped down and opened a drawer, and took something out of
it. I could not see the man's face, but it was not _thee_, Gethin,
though thy sudden disappearance made them think at first, that thou
wert the thief; only Morva and I knew better. She heard a footstep