Such an uncommon sight roused Morva from her dreams.
"Can I come down this way ?" said a clear, girlish voice, as Gwenda Vaughan drew near.

She spoke in very broken Welsh, but Morva understood her.

"Does it lead anywhere ?" "It leads nowhere," said Morva, "but to the cliffs; but round there beyond the Cribserth," and she pointed to the rugged ridge of rocks, "is Garthowen; up there to the right is nothing but moorland for two miles." "Oh, then I will turn this way," said Gwenda.

"Will they let me rest at the farm a while, do you think?
I am very tired and hungry." "Oh, of course," said Morva, her hospitable instincts awaking at once.
"Come into mother's cottage," and she pointed to the thatched roof and chimney, which alone were visible above the heathery knoll.
"Is that a cottage ?" "Yes--will you come ?" "Yes, just for a moment, and then perhaps you will show me the way to the farm.

That Cribserth looks a formidable rampart.