Here the voices ceased suddenly, and I again heard a kiss of comfort, and the sound of a girl’s sob. I could bear no more. I started to my feet, ran round the cinder-heap, and confronted the children.
“Please don’t be frightened! I heard you sing. I want you to sing again. I want to know what’s the matter. I’m Gwladys Morgan—you may have heard of me; my brother is going to manage the mine at Ffynon.”
Two pairs of black eyes were raised to my face, then the boy rose slowly to his feet, came forward a step or two, and after gazing at me with the most searching, penetrating glance I had ever been favoured with, said brightly, as if satisfied with the result of his scrutiny—
“I’m Miles, and this is little Nan.”
“And father works down in the mine,” said little Nan.
“Father’s name is Moses Thomas—he’s deputy,” said the boy again, in a proud tone.
“Go on,” I said, seating myself close to the children; “tell me all about yourselves. I’m so glad I’ve met you. I am sure we shall be friends. I like you both already. Now you must let me know your whole story, from beginning to end; only first, do, do sing that lovely hymn again.”
“I’ll sing, Miss Morgan,” said the boy, instantly; “but you’ll forgive little Nan; little Nan’s in trouble, and her voice ain’t steady.”
Throwing back his head, looking straight before him, and clasping his hands round his knee, he sang to the same wild measure the next verse of the Methodist hymn:—
“The crown! the crown! the glorious crown!
A crown of life for me.
This crown of life it shall be mine,
When Jesus I shall see.”