"Art watching the sheep, lass ?" "No; 'tis the calves who will stray to the bog over yonder.

Indeed, they are wilful, whatever, for the grass down here is much sweeter.
There they go again--see!" and Gethin helped her with whoop and halloo, and many devious races of circumvention to recover them.

"Oh, anwl, they are like naughty children," she said, sitting down, exhausted with laughter and running, Gethin flinging himself beside her, and picking idly at the gorse blossoms which filled the air with their rich perfume.
The clear, blue autumn sky was over them, the deep blue sea stretched before them, the larks sang overhead, the sheep bleated on the moor, and in the grass around them the dewdrops sparkled in the morning sun.
"'Tis a fair world," said Morva; "didst ever see more beautiful sea or land than ours in all thy voyages, Gethin ?" "Brighter, grander, warmer, but more beautiful--none, Morva.

Indeed to me, since I've come home, every day seems happier and more beautiful--and thou, too, Morva.

I think by that merry song thou wert singing thou art not very unhappy." "Well, indeed, 'twas not a very happy song," said the girl, "but I suppose I was putting my own foolishness into it." "Wilt sing it again, lass ?" "Wilt sing, too ?" "Oh, dei anwl, yes; there's no song ever reaches my ears but I must join in it.