"Oh, I didn't know," said the girl, "but I thought God would make it plain some day."
"I don't think there is much doubt about it," said Gwilym. "Poor Gryffy; we know he must have suffered much remorse before he threw that bag in at the window again."
"'Twas not Gethin, and that's all we need trouble our heads about now," said the old man rising from the table.
The frosty wind was scarcely more fleet than Morva's flying footsteps as she crossed the moor that evening.
"Mother, mother!" she called, even before she had reached the doorway. "Mother, mother! the money is found and everyone knows now that Gethin is innocent!" and the whole story was poured into Sara's ears.
Tudor, who sat beside the girl on the settle, her arm thrown round his neck, looked from one face to another as the story proceeded, interpolating a bark whenever there was a pause.
"So the clouds roll by," said Sara. "Patience 'merch i! and the sun will shine out some day!"
"How can that be, mother, when I am bound to Will? A milkmaid to a clergyman; and he already ashamed of her!"