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"Not much indeed, father, but I wasn't going to forget my little playfellow, whatever." "No, no, my boy, that was quite right," said the old man; and Will too tried to smile and admire, but there was a flush of vexation on his face which did not escape Morva's notice. "I must go now," she said, a little shadow falling over her.
Sometimes, too, her stock-in-trade was increased by a collection of wooden bowls, spoons, scales, and trenchers, which Stiven "Storrom," living on the shore below, turned off his lathe, and sold through Morva's agency. At such times she borrowed Stiven's donkey-cart, and stood by it in the market until her wares were sold.
For sixteen years her life and Morva's had been serene and uneventful, the limited circle which bound the plane of their existence had been complete and undisturbed by outward influences; but latterly unrest and anxiety had entered into their quiet lives, there was a veiling of the sun, there was a shadow on the path, a mysterious wind was ruffling the surface of the sea of life.
For nearly seventeen years this had been Morva's home, ever since the memorable night of wind and storm which had wrecked the good ship Penelope on her voyage home from Australia. She had reached Milford safely a week before, after a prosperous voyage, and having landed some of her passengers, was making her further way towards Liverpool, her final destination.
Morva's lips parted, disclosing two rows of pearly teeth, as she stared in astonishment at her companion. "Oh, Will, lad, what is the matter with thee? Hast lost thy senses? We mustn't be long or Ann will be waiting." "Oh, Ann!" said Will pettishly, "let her wait; listen thou.
Ann had bent lower and lower in her pew, and was weeping bitter tears of shame, clasping Morva's hand, who stood looking in frightened amazement from one to another. "A thief!" continued the old man, "and a cowardly thief! One who sacrificed honour and truth and common honesty that he might gratify his foolish pride. But to come nearer, my friends, hear what I have done.
'Here behind this very bush, she said, 'only two nights ago, I met him, and I promised him again that I would be true to him. I have been in foreign lands when an earthquake shook the world under my feet, and at those words of Morva's I felt the same, as if the world was going to pieces; but I had to bear it; 'tis wonderful how much a man can bear!"
"Well, never mind that, 'merch i, if it is rest and happiness here," and Sara laid her finger on the region of Morva's heart. "Tell me that, child; is it rest and love there?" "Oh! I don't know, mother; I don't know indeed, indeed."
She would have sung one of Sara's old Nature songs, had not the remembrance of the sorrow at the farm kept her silent. The March wind blew keen and crisp around her, the air was filled with the quivering songs of the larks, the furze was bursting into bloom, even the bare blackthorn put on its speckled mantle of white; what wonder was it in a world so fair, that Morva's heart sang for joy?
And now came one of those seasons of contemplation and of wondering awe which Sara's trances brought into Morva's simple life, which made her somewhat different from the other girls of the neighbourhood, yet in no way detracted from the brightness and cheerfulness of her character.
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