“Pedr!” she exclaimed, “but you said Catrin Griffiths—alas, I must tell you!” She lifted her hand as if she were going to point to something and then dropped it.
“I’m not carin’ what I said about Catrin Griffiths or about any one else. Dear little heart, you’re makin’ yourself sick over this an’——”
“Och, but I must tell you!” and again came the futile motion of the hand.
“You shall not!” he commanded.
“Yes, now, now,” she cried, lifting her hand; “Pedr I—I have——”
Pedr seized the uplifted hand.
“No, Nelw, no;” and he put his finger over her mouth and drew her to him.
“Pedr, I must,” she pleaded, struggling to free herself.
“No, not now; I’m not carin’ to know now. Wait until we’re married.”