Holywell grew to have a fascination for me, and in the following spring I left the fishing-inn beneath Snowdon, and took rooms in this interesting old town.
VIII
One day, near the rivulet that runs from St. Winifred's Well, I suddenly encountered Sinfi Lovell.
'Sinfi,' I said, 'she's dead, she's surely dead.'
'I tell ye, brother, she ain't got to die!' said Sinfi, as she came and stood beside me. 'Winnie Wynne's on'y got to beg her bread. She's alive.'
'Where is she?' I cried. 'Oh, Sinfi, I shall go mad!'
'There you're too fast for me, brother,' said she, 'when you ask me where she is; but she's alive, and I ain't come quite emp'y-handed of news about her, brother.'
'Oh, tell me!' said I.
'Well,' said Sinfi, 'I've just met one of our people, Euri Lovell, as says that, the very mornin' after we seed her on the hills, he met her close to Carnarvon at break of day.'
'Then she did go to Carnarvon,' I said. 'What a distance for those dear feet!'