"Yes," said the young man thoughtfully, "I will not be sorry, although I have been very happy with Lallo and Gwen. I am going to Mary the Mill's to-morrow. Wel! I must go now. Nos da, Nani; nos da, Gwladys."
The girl was standing beside the little window looking over the sea, her brown eyes fixed on the ripples of gold and crimson that stretched away to the west. She pointed with her finger to the sinking sun as she answered:
"Nos da. I was just thinking there was something to make a bard of thee."
Ivor saw that she had not understood his former compliment, so would not venture upon another, and merely saying, "'Tis a promise of fine weather," left the cottage.
"Come, dear heart," said Nani, "thee'lt want thy supper after all thy singing! How did it go to-night?"
"Oh, pretty well, mother!" and as she sat down to the shining oak table she hummed to herself the English words which had puzzled her:
"Who teeps the hills with gold,
Whosse rocey fingares ope the gates of day."
"What gibberish is that?" said the gentle-faced mother. "Now, don't thee get too proud to speak Welsh! And Gwen is going to be married so soon!"
"Ivor seems glad, mother."
"And no wonder! When a lass shows her love too plainly, a sensible man draws back."