Thou art hiding something from me; surely Will's marriage brings thee no bitterness ?" "No, no," said the girl, "I am glad, mother, so thankful to be free; I could sing with the birds for joy, and yet there is some shadow in my heart.

'Tis for Garthowen, I think, 'n'wncwl Ebben is so sad--Gethin has never come home, and that money, mother! who stole it and put it back again?
We used to be so happy, but now it seems like the threatening of a stormy day." "Sometimes those stormy days are the end of rough weather, lass.
Through wind and cloud and lightning, God clears up the sky.

Thee must not lose patience, 'merch i; by and by it will be bright weather again." "Do you think, mother ?" "Yes, I think--I am sure." "Well, indeed," said Morva, "you are always right; but oh! I am forgetting my cheese, I set the rennet before I came out.

I must run." And away she went, and in a short time had reached the dairy, where the curdled milk was ready for her.

First she went to the spring in the yard to cool her hands and arms, and then with shining wooden saucer, she broke up the creamy curds, gradually compressing them into a solid mass, while the delicious whey was poured into a quaint brown earthen pitcher.
The clumsy door stood wide open, and the sunshine streamed in, and glistened on the bright brass pan in which Morva was crumbling her curds, her sleeves tucked up above her elbows, showing her dimpled arms.