Sara particularly, appeared to suffer acutely as the evening hours passed on.
"There's the sun going, mother, 'tis seven o'clock, the Sciet is over.
Will I go and meet them?
Oh! mother, I long to comfort 'n'wncwl Ebben." "No, child, leave him alone to-night; he has better help than thou canst give him.

To-night he will feel God's presence as he has never felt it before, and what else will he want, Morva?
Come and read our chapter, 'merch i." And while they read by the light of their tiny candle, and the furze crackled and sparkled up the open chimney, a bronzed and stalwart man was tramping down the stony road towards the chapel.

Looking down the narrow valley, he saw the broad grey sea, its ripples tipped with the crimson of the setting sun.

To the left towered the high cliffs which closed in the valley, and on the right stretched away the furze-covered slopes leading to Garthowen and the moor, and the rough sailor heart throbbed with the happiness of home-coming and the re-awakening of long deferred hopes.

His brown face lighted up with pleasure, as he waved his hand towards the sunlit side of the scene, but he turned his face and his footsteps into the grey shadowed court-yard of the chapel.