this awakening comes sooner or later. To some, gradually and naturally
as the dawning of morning, and the bright effulgence of its rays is not
recognised until the darkness and clouds have already rolled away, and,
lo, it is day. Upon others it bursts with the suddenness of a
thunderstorm, and the soul cowers under the threatening peals, and is
riven by the lightning flashes of conscience before it reaches the
haven of calm and peace. To some, alas, the awakening comes not at
all, until through the open door of death the soul escapes from the
veil of flesh which has hidden from it the true life.

"Is there a 'Sciet' next Sunday?" asked Ebben Owens, as they all sat at
tea together one evening.

"No--not till the Sunday after," said Gwilym, reddening.

Ann's hand shook as she poured out the tea.

"Father bâch!" she said tenderly, looking at him with eyes in which the
tears welled up.

"Oh! don't you vex about me," said the old man. "I must bear my
punishment like everyone else; 'twill not be so hard as I deserve."

"I must not let my feelings influence me in this matter," said Gwilym,
"though you know, father, how it breaks my heart."

And he held his shapely hand across the table and grasped the old man's
warmly.

"Yes, yes, 'tis all right; you must do your duty, only I would like it