LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE It was nearly midnight, and still Sara and Morva sat over the fire in earnest conversation.

The March wind roared in the chimney, the sound of the sea came up the valley.

Outside, under the night sky, the furze and broom bushes waved and bowed to each other, and in the sheltered cwrt the daffodils under the hedge nodded and swayed in the wind; but the two women inside the cottage were too much engrossed in their conversation, and with their thoughts, to notice the wildness of the night.

Often they sat in silence, broken by occasional words of sorrow.
"Oh, poor 'n'wncwl Ebben! No wonder he was sitting thinking and thinking in the chimney-corner!" "No, no wonder indeed, och i! och i! But now he has done the best thing for his own peace of mind." "Peace of mind!" said Morva.

"I am afraid he will never have that, mother.