"Oh, Will, no, no!" sobbed the girl, "'tis not so; indeed. God knows I love thee still as much as ever I did. 'Tis only that I have grown older, and wiser, and sadder perhaps, because it seems that knowing much brings sorrow with it. I was so young when I made all those promises."
"Two months younger than thou art now!" scoffed Will.
"Two months is a long time," she said, "when you begin to think, and I have thought and thought out here at night when the stars are glittering overhead, when the sea is sighing so sad down below, and after all my thinking only one thing is plain to me, Will; let there be no promises between us."
"Never!" said Will, a vindictive feeling rising within him, "never will I set thee free to marry another man, whoever he is!"
"He is no one," interpolated Morva, in a low voice.
"Whoever he is," repeated Will, as though he had not heard her, "I will never set thee free, never--never, never!"
All the dogged obstinacy of his nature was roused, and the feeling that he was a wronged and injured man gave his voice a tone of indignant passion which told upon the girl's sensitive nature.
"Oh, Will," she said, stretching out her hand towards him, "I did not think thou loved me like that! I cannot be cruel to thee; thou art a Garthowen, and for them I have often said I would lay down my life. I will lay down my life for thee, Will. Once more I promise."
"Nay," he said, laughing, "I will never ask thee to do that for me, lass; only be true to me and wait patiently for me, Morva;" and he drew her towards him once more.
They had reached the cottage, and Will passed round into the court, leaving her standing with eyes fixed steadfastly on the bright north star.
"I will," she repeated, "for I have promised, and there are many ways of laying down one's life."
For a moment she stood alone in the moonlight, and what vows of self-sacrifice she made were known only to herself.
"Anwl, anwl!" said Sara, as Will entered, "will I make my door bigger? Will I find a stool strong enough for this big man?"
"Will I ever be more than a boy to thee, Sara?"
"Well, indeed," said the old woman, "I am forgetting how the children grow up. Sit down, my boy, and tell us all about the grand streets and the college at Llaniago, and the ladies and gentlemen whom thou art hand and glove with there--and so thou ought to be, too. Caton pawb! I'd like to see the family whose achau[1] go back further than Garthowen's!"