hum of the insects that hovered over the pool, the chime of the
distant waterfall, the occasional bleating of the sheep from the
mountaintop, were all blended into the delicious harmony of nature.

It had been one of Owen's favourite resorts when he had been a lonely
wanderer--a pilgrim in search of love in the years gone by. And
thither he went, as if by instinct, when he left Ty Glas; quelling
the uprising agony till he should reach that little solitary spot.

It was the time of day when a change in the aspect of the weather so
frequently takes place; and the little pool was no longer the
reflection of a blue and sunny sky: it sent back the dark and slaty
clouds above, and, every now and then, a rough gust shook the painted
autumn leaves from their branches, and all other music was lost in
the sound of the wild winds piping down from the moorlands, which lay
up and beyond the clefts in the mountain-side. Presently the rain
came on and beat down in torrents.

But Owen heeded it not. He sat on the dank ground, his face buried
in his hands, and his whole strength, physical and mental, employed
in quelling the rush of blood, which rose and boiled and gurgled in
his brain as if it would madden him.

The phantom of his dead child rose ever before him, and seemed to cry
aloud for vengeance. And when the poor young man thought upon the
victim whom he required in his wild longing for revenge, he
shuddered, for it was his father!

Again and again he tried not to think; but still the circle of
thought came round, eddying through his brain. At length he mastered