"Perhaps, indeed," said the girl, settling her creel in its place, and jumping lightly from the prow of the boat on to the rock.
As they parted on the shore, the moon shone full upon her, and Ivor took note afresh of every charm in the varying expression of her face.
"Hast enjoyed it, lass?"
"Yes, to be sure," she answered.
"Wel, nos da."
"Nos da," said Gwladys, beginning her way over the beach.
He did not offer to accompany her, and she thought she understood his reason.
"He would not like to be seen walking with me in the moonlight," she mused. "Well, he is right; but he need not fear I would think he meant anything by it," and she tossed her head proudly as she entered Nance Owen's cottage and deposited her basket of weed on the table.
The house-door stood wide open, the moonlight and the sea wind streaming in together, a few smouldering turfs burnt on the hearth, the old cat sat beside them and blinked, but Nance was out gossiping; and Gwladys went out again, and pursued her uneven path up the village road to her own home with a strange sense of happiness in her heart, which would not be stamped out even by that potent emotion, "Welsh pride."
[[1]] Front garden.