There was so little for John Willie to do. He had only to go away without kissing her again.
Kiss her, however, he must not—he was only an ordinary young man——
He knew it, and——
He passed his arms about her waist and drew her down by his side.
It was dark in the Glyn long before the light had faded from the open hillside above. In Llyn Delyn not a fish rose to break that dark and intact perfection. The fall into the pool diminished a little in volume, and mossy cushions that had lately been covered began to rise out of the water again. And a heart was laid quiveringly open where formerly only a foot had been maimed. She was twice conquered, for she was Welsh and woman too. In the hearts of the men of her race the fame of their story still lives, and while it lives strife will not cease. As their own proverb says, what the sword took, the tongue will take back again.
But the woman goes with the land.