Yet stay, fair lady, rest awhile
Beneath the cottage wall;
See, through the hawthorns blows the cold wind,
And drizzling rain doth fall.--OLD BALLAD.


Though Hal had gone to sleep very tired the night before, and only on
a pile of hay, curled up with Watch, having yielded his own bed to
the strange guest, he was awake before the sun, for it was the
decline of the year, and the dawn was not early.

He was not the first awake--Hob and Piers were already busy on the
outside, and Mother Doll had emerged from the box bed which made
almost a separate apartment, and was raking together the peat, so as
to revive the slumbering fire. The hovel, for it was hardly more,
was built of rough stone and thatched with reeds, with large stones
to keep the roof down in the high mountain blasts. There was only
one room, earthen floored, and with no furniture save a big chest, a
rude table, a settle and a few stools, besides the big kettle and a
few crocks and wooden bowls. Yet whereas all was clean, it had an
air of comfort and civilisation beyond any of the cabins in the
neighbourhood, more especially as there was even a rude chimney-piece
projecting far into the room, and in the niche behind this lay the
little girl in her clothes, fast asleep.

Very young and childish she looked as she lay, her lips partly
unclosed, her dark hair straying beyond her hand, and her black
lashes resting on her delicate brunette cheeks, slightly flushed with
sleep. Hal could not help standing for a minute gazing at her in a