Their appreciation of the beautiful spot was as hearty and enthusiastic as he could have desired, but Primrose, on peeping boldly into the gipsy's cave, found it empty, and they were fain to leave their gifts behind them, trusting to her speedy return from some one of her wild expeditions to enjoy them. The ride home was very beautiful in the soft evening twilight, and by Primrose and Percival the "yellow valley" (Glyn Melen) in its wealth of gorse-bushes in fullest bloom had never been seen through more golden spectacles. They were too happy for many words, but their eyes met ever and again in a mutual sympathy and understanding which was perhaps yet more eloquent, and which was not unnoticed by Lady Bryn Afon, who, as she watched them, sighed once or twice to herself, with an expression of mingled pleasure and perplexity. The days that followed were golden days, whose light lingered on through the dreary months of separation which ensued for the two young people, who each in their secret heart felt every day more and more drawn to the other, ever finding new topics of mutual interest and new tastes in common, and ever feeling their souls to be more firmly knit together by those higher aspirations and longings after the "things unseen and eternal," which alone can form the basis of a true, unending love. Yet no word of love ever passed between them, for Percival, knowing the strange circumstances of Primrose's life, and that the still-continued waiting-time for her unknown mother was one of which he dared not take advantage, kept a tight rein upon himself, and would often spend hours in solitude upon the mountains rather than intrude, save at Lady Bryn Afon's bidding, into the presence of her whom, he could not but confess to himself, he dearly loved. There were, however, many pleasant hours which he spent in their company, whether reading aloud to them, as they sat at work in the copse or orchard, or listening in the dusky twilight to the sweet strains which Primrose drew from her beloved harp by the side of the stream, or guiding the sure-footed old horse to the tiny church in the nearest village on Sundays, and at other times to some beautiful spot in the mountains, which he had discovered in his own rambles, and would fain have them enjoy with him. And now and then there came brief moments to each of unacknowledged bliss, when, left alone with books or music, for some short space of time their tongues seemed to loosen mutually, and their hearts to draw nearer in sweet converse and unspoken sympathy, But at such times Primrose often wondered why the chaplain would as it were suddenly withdraw into himself, shutting himself up within a wall of impenetrable reserve, which she dared not break, and more than once abruptly leaving her, on the plea of forgotten duties, causing her to think sorrowfully for the rest of the day that she must needs have in some way vexed him, until at