wants to convert me to her way of thinking. Now this letter is really
more a message from her than from me. She wants to know if you will
have us at the farm for a week or a fortnight, when the spring is a
little more advanced. She wants to see the moor when the gorse is in
blossom. She would like to know you more intimately, she says, and
would enjoy nothing more than a taste of real farm life; she therefore
begs, that if you can have us you will not make any alteration in your
ways of living. She sends her love to Ann, and hopes she will put up
with her for a little while. If you will let us know when it will be
convenient to you, we will fix a time to come to Garthowen. I remain,
dear father,

"Your affectionate son,

"WILLIAM OWEN."


Ebben Owens had been gradually growing more excited, and at the last
word said with a gasp:

"He has forgotten my confession, Morva; I am of no consequence to him!"

"Yes--yes," said the girl, "here's another half sheet with 'P.S.' at
the top," and she continued to read:


"Dear father, Gwenda was looking over my shoulder, so I could not add
what I say now. Please ask Ann to put the best knives and forks on the
table, and to bring out mother's silver teapot when we come. I forgot
to refer to the contents of your last letter. You make too much of