feat is accomplished, and though my poor back doth verily ache to distraction, yet I am glad I have done the deed. How good is the daylight! Come, child, we will repair to our chambers, and remove these dust-stained robes, and rest our weary frames awhile ere we are summoned to our evening meal." It was with great joy that Jack the boatman welcomed his foster-child, on the following day, once more to her riverside home. Tiny indeed it seemed to Primrose, after her week's stay within the spacious old castle, yet her small apartments were so filled with marks of Jack's love and thought for her every want, that she lay down to rest, when night came, full of content, and feeling a sweet sense of pleasure at being once more lulled to rest by the soft plashing of the river, as it rippled over the pebbles below her lattice. Much she had recounted to Jack ere they had sought their rest, and passionately had he clasped her to his breast, when she had told him of her visit to the bottomless well, thanking God from his heart for having given him so sweet a flower in place of the tender blossom so ruthlessly destroyed long years ago! And Primrose, as she nestled in his arms, felt that whatever might lie before her in the future, no life could surely be dearer than the years of happy childhood spent with her tender guardian in the beautiful Gwynnon Valley, where every bird that sang, and every blossom that blew in spring, had whispered thoughts of love and beauty in her ear, and lifted up her soul to God. * * * * * * * The talked-of Midsummer Eve excursion to the Craig Aran Pool was not destined to take place the following summer after all, for in the spring of that year Sir Ivor's health gave way, and the whole of that year and the following were spent by himself and his wife abroad; and it was not until the month of April in the year when Primrose reached her twentieth birthday that they returned to Caer Caradoc, and once more took up their abode in their ancient stronghold. Primrose in the meantime had also spent another winter abroad with Lady Bryn Afon, and so the years sped away towards the looked-for yet dreaded time of her coming of age, but one more year hence. CHAPTER XVI. THE CHAPLAIN'S VISION. "The ideal may never be found, yet even then its creation--unless life is a shadow and the soul a deceit--is a prevision of the infinite, a promise of ultimate fruition--an intimation of eternity."--_Essay on_ BROWNING (_Quarterly Review_).