"It must be in my dreams, then." "Perhaps! What delicious meth! Who would think there was room for house and garden scooped out on the moor here; and such a dear sheltered hollow." Sara smiled.
"Yes; we are safe and peaceful here." Morva had taken the opportunity of doffing her necklace and placing it in the box.
"I am going to show the young lady the way to Garthowen, mother." "Yes; it is easy from there to Castell On," said Sara; "the farm lane will lead you into the high road.

But 'tis many, many years since I have been that way." The chat fell into quite a friendly and familiar groove, for Sara and Morva knew nothing of the restraints of class and conventionality.
"I am so glad I came; but I must go now," said Gwenda, rising at last.
"My name is Gwenda Vaughan," she added, turning to Morva.

"What is yours ?" "Mine is Morva Lloyd; but I am generally called Morva of the Moor, I think.

Mother's is Sara." "Good-bye, and thank you very much," said Gwenda, and Sara held her hand a moment between her own soft palms, while she looked into the girl's face.
"You have a sweet, good face," she said.

"Thank you for coming, 'merch i; in some way you will bring us good." And again that strangely happy feeling came over Gwenda.