As she rose from her knees a quiver passed over Sara's eyelids, a smile came on her lips, and opening her eyes she looked long at Morva before she spoke, as though recalling her surroundings.
"Mother," said the girl, kissing her cheek, which was beginning to show again the hue of health.

"Mother fach, you've come back to me again." "Yes," said Sara, "I am come back again, child," and she attempted to rise, but Morva pushed her gently back.
"Breakfast first, mother fach." And quickly and deftly she set the little brown teapot on the embers, and spread her mother's breakfast before her.
"Now, mother, a new-laid egg and some brown bread and butter." And Sara smilingly complied with the girl's wishes, and partook of the simple fare.
"Mother, try and remember where you have been.

Oh, I want to know so much." "I cannot, 'merch i, already it is slipping away from me as usual; but never mind, it will all come back by and by, and I hope I will be a wiser and a better woman after my long sleep.

It is always so, I think, Morva." "Yes," said the girl, "you are always wiser, and better, and kinder after your long sleeps, if that is possible, mother fach." Sara's ordinary cheerful and placid manner had already returned to her, and in an hour or two she was quite herself again, and moving about her cottage as if nothing had happened; and when Morva left her for the morning milking she felt no uneasiness about her.
"She's in the angels' keeping, I know, and God is over all," she murmured, as she ran over the cliffs to Garthowen.
She said nothing at the farm of the events of the past night, knowing how reticent Sara was upon the subject herself.

Moreover, it was one of too sacred a character in the eyes of these two lonely women to be discussed with the outside and unbelieving world.
In the evening, when Morva returned from the farm, a little earlier than usual, she was full of tender inquiries.
"Are you well, mother fach?
I have been uneasy about you." "Quite well, child, and very happy.