Morva, as usual in Ann's absence, took charge of the house, and very sad and lonely she felt as she roamed from one room to another, dusting a chair or table occasionally, and looking out through the windows at the dull, leaden sea, for outside, too, the clouds were gathering, and the wind whispered threatenings of change.
Three nights ago! Was it possible?
So lately as that was she bright and happy, and was the world around her so full of light and warmth?
She leant her elbows on the deep window-sill and mused.

How long ago, too, it seemed since she had taken down the old Bible and hunted up Gethin's delinquencies.

She saw it now in her mind's eye, and, getting upon the table, she reached it down again, and turned to the disfigured page.
Now she knew how little harm there had been in those foolish, boyish rhymes; now she knew the bright black eyes which had guided the pen in those brown fingers were full of nothing but mischief.

"Oh, no! no harm," she said, "only fun and mischief." She read the lines again, and a sad little smile came over her mouth, then she looked at the signatures below.

"Gethin Owens, Garthowen." "G.