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After making all arrangements with Peggi Bullet and Shôn, she took her way across the bridge.
"No, calon fâch," said Nance the unselfish, "I will not mind at all, I am thinking myself that it is not good for you to stay here brooding over your sorrow. Peggi 'Bullet' and I have been like sisters since the time when we were girls, and harvested together, and went together to gather wool on the sheep mountains.
"You are better, Nance," she said one day, when she had been sitting long on the rocks gazing out to sea, in one of those deep reveries so frequent with her now, "and if I paid Peggi 'Bullet' for living with you and attending to you, would you mind my going away? I feel I cannot rest any longer here; I must get something to do something to fill my empty hands and my empty heart."
"Well, well; he might have been kinder to his son when he had him with him; he'll never have the chance again," said Peggi "bakkare," peering through her tiny, foam-flecked window. "No," said Madlen, who had come in for a loaf; "having got safe away 'tisn't likely the young man will turn up here again, and small blame to him considering everything."
She rose early, and, after her simple breakfast, put on her white hat, and, kissing the old woman tenderly, said: "I am going out for a few hours; there are one or two people I want to see Peggi Bullet, and Shôn, the sexton. Then I am going to cross the Rock Bridge." She did not tell Nance that her chief object was to pay a last visit to her old haunts by the Berwen.
Cardo sat listening, with his hands shading his eyes. "And now, here's the directions, sir," she said, as Peggi Bullet returned from the well. "Here you, Peggi fâch, you are so nimble, you climb up the ladder and bring the old teapot down."
"It's no turkey; it's a goose that I bought in the town to give you." "Fact," said the policeman, "it is the finest goose I ever saw. Where did you buy it?" Yeckorus a choro mush besht a lay ta kair trin horras-worth o' peggi for a masengro. There jessed alang's a rye, who penned, "Tool my gry, an' I'll del tute a shukori."
"Then it must be Monmouthshire!" And with this scant information, and a very heavy heart, Cardo left the cottage, and, telling Jack Harris to meet him at the other side of the island, he made his way up the path which led to the little burying-ground behind the Rock Church. "Poor fellow!" said Peggi Bullet, looking after him, "you can't measure sorrow by the length of a man."
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