Nance loosened her cloak and hat, and smoothed her hair with her horny hands. "There's glad I am to see you, merch fach-i, and if you have no grand friends to keep you company and no one to look after you, you have always got old Nance to love you." "Yes, I know that, Nance, indeed.

Her baby was fretful and feverish, and Nance had roused her fears. "He is too fat, merch i," she said, "and if he had any childish illness it would go hard with him." Valmai had taken fright at once. "Can you take care of him, Nance, while I go to Abersethin and fetch Dr. Hughes?" she asked.

Thee must not lose patience, 'merch i; by and by it will be bright weather again." "Do you think, mother?" "Yes, I think I am sure." "Well, indeed," said Morva, "you are always right; but oh! I am forgetting my cheese, I set the rennet before I came out. I must run." And away she went, and in a short time had reached the dairy, where the curdled milk was ready for her.

"Thank you for coming, 'merch i; in some way you will bring us good." And again that strangely happy feeling came over Gwenda. Rounding the Cribserth, the two girls soon reached Garthowen. It was afternoon, and drawing near tea-time. Ebben Owens was already sitting on the settle in the best kitchen, waiting for it, when the sound of voices without attracted his attention.

Are you sure there is a way round it?" "Oh, yes; I will come and show you," said Morva. "Here is mother," and Sara approached from her herb garden with round, astonished eyes. "Well, indeed!" she said; "this is a pleasant sight a lady coming to see us, and on Morva's birthday, too! Come in, 'merch i, and sit down and rest. The horse will be safe tied there to the gate."

Morva went home to her mother, white and dry-eyed, her mind full of anxious questioning, her heart sinking with sorrow. Sara held out her wrinkled hand towards her. "Come, 'merch fâch i, 'tis trouble, I know; but what is it, lass?" "Oh, mother, 'tis too dreadful to think of! How can such things be?

"There's the sun going, mother, 'tis seven o'clock, the Sciet is over. Will I go and meet them? Oh! mother, I long to comfort 'n'wncwl Ebben." "No, child, leave him alone to-night; he has better help than thou canst give him. To-night he will feel God's presence as he has never felt it before, and what else will he want, Morva? Come and read our chapter, 'merch i."

The old woman made no answer, but continued to gaze at the crackling furze. "You wish that too, mother?" asked the girl. "I did, 'merch i, but now I don't know indeed, Morva. Thou must not marry without love." "Without love, mother! I have told you many times I love Will with all my heart." Sara shook her head with a smile of incredulity. "It is a dream, child, and thou wilt wake some day.

"Sir," says Pogson, with some dignity, "merit, and not birth, is the criterion of a man: I despise an hereditary aristocracy, and admire only Nature's gentlemen. For my part, I think that a British merch " "Hold your tongue, sir," bounced out the Major, "and don't lecture me; don't come to me, sir, with your slang about Nature's gentlemen Nature's tomfools, sir!

Tudor, who sat beside the girl on the settle, her arm thrown round his neck, looked from one face to another as the story proceeded, interpolating a bark whenever there was a pause. "So the clouds roll by," said Sara. "Patience 'merch i! and the sun will shine out some day!" "How can that be, mother, when I am bound to Will? A milkmaid to a clergyman; and he already ashamed of her!"