"There's one hope left," said Kitty, when the first wild burst of grief had worn itself away. "I am cunning and wise in the ways of the pixies, and I know that they dance each night in the moonlight on the ledge of rock where the sea-pinks bloom on the face of St. Morna's Cliff. If you hide yourself there, with a wreath of vervain round your hair, and could catch them unawares, my heart tells me you might force them to restore what they have stolen. But, alas! the plan is well-nigh impossible, for how could you tread safely over the crags where the boldest of our cliff climbers scarce dare to venture?" "Yet I will do it!" cried Nancy, as she rose up with a new light in her eyes. "Quick! weave me the wreath of vervain, and show me by what spell I may force the fairies to give me back my child." "Nay, that I cannot tell you," said old Kitty. "Your own mother-wit must find out the way. Start when the twilight has fallen, and when seven stars are shining over the sea; tell none your errand, and cast three sprigs from your vervain wreath if a hare should cross your path. Turn your wedding ring round on your finger before you venture to climb down the cliff, and call on St. Morna to help you. Watch silently all that may happen till you see your opportunity arise--and may good luck and my blessing go with you!" The dusk had fallen over the village, and the stars were beginning to shine in the darkening sky, when Nancy, with the wreath of vervain twined through her dark hair, crept softly past the last of the cottages, and took the little briary path which led through the low sandhills, and over the wind-swept hill-side up to St. Morna's Cliff. Not a sound broke the silence, for the sea-gulls had vanished with the sunshine, and not even a fieldmouse stirred in the bracken. With hasty step she hurried along, for she must reach her post before moonrise. The path grew steeper, the bracken gave way to heather, and at length she found herself on the smooth grassy surface of St. Morna's Cliff. Down far below her she could see the wide rocky ledge where the sea-pinks were catching the last glow from the western sky. How steep the crag looked! The few tufts of grass and jutting-out pieces of rock offered her scarcely a foothold; should she make one false step she must be dashed to atoms upon the precipice beneath. She looked down and shivered; but the thought of her child sent a thrill of courage to her heart. Kneeling down on the short grass she prayed to St. Morna for help; then, turning her wedding ring round upon her finger, she swung herself over the edge of the cliff.