she was; and that there, in the moonlight, with the sea breeze
whispering its own love messages in their ears, the words were spoken
for which each had been thirsting ever since they had met there last?

* * * * * *

In the early sunrise of the next morning Ebben Owens, too, was crossing
the moor. He wanted to tell Sara of the happiness which his son's
return had brought him, and to thank her for her share in bringing it
to pass. He wanted, too, to tell her of the sorrow and repentance
which filled his heart, and the deep gratitude he felt for all she had
done for him.

She was already in her garden attending to her bees.

"Sara, woman," said the old man, standing straight before her with
outstretched hands.

"Dear, dear, Ebben Owens, so early coming to see me! Sit thee down,
then, here in the sun," and she placed her hand in his, endeavouring to
draw him down beside her; but he resisted her gentle pressure and,
still standing, bent his head like a guilty child.

"No, no," he said, with a tremble in his voice. "Tell me first, can'st
forgive me my shameful sin? Everybody is forgiving me too easy, much
too easy, I know. 'Tis only one will be always remembering, and that
is me."

"I am not surprised at that, and I am glad to hear those words from
thee," said Sara, "but my forgiveness, Ebben bâch, is as full and free