when, during our short sojourns at Bryn Afon, fascinated by the infant beauty of the boatman's foster-child, he has more than once begged me to adopt you for my own, declaring that no true Bryn Afon could e'er be to me a fairer daughter! Oh, Primrose, weep not, I pray you! I have indeed suffered as few women, methinks, are called upon to suffer, but I have deserved my punishment. I have sat from early eve till dawn of day at the casement of my chamber in the castle, which overlooked the river, just to watch the light burning in your window at my feet, and feast my eyes on the poor roof that sheltered my darling, my husband ever coming to my side, wondering what strange fascination held me rooted night after night to the same spot." "And I have watched your light too, sweet mother," said Primrose, "calling it one Christmastide my 'Star in the East,' and when I was older, ever looking for it year after year with childish interest and pleasure, and much joy and wonder when once or twice, at long intervals, the sight of it again rewarded my long watching. But, dear mother, tell me, was your long hiding of me indeed necessary? Have you truly found the curse to have such dread effect upon my poor father, that you have felt you have verily had no choice but to keep my birth secret from him?" "Yes, I have done well, my child," answered Lady Bryn Afon gravely. "Had my heart broken, as I oft thought it needs must, I would have let it break sooner than call you from your happy, innocent home into the blighted atmosphere of ours. But once, in your early childhood, did I suffer Rhiwallon to bring you to Glyn Helen, where I was then staying, that I might for a few brief hours sun myself in your infant presence ere there were fear of your carrying away any permanent recollection of me; and how I suffered in that renewed parting God only knows! But Primrose, sweet one, prithee dismiss all thought and fear of the curse from your own mind. The steps I have taken to avert it from you have surely kept even its shadow from falling upon you, and so shall it ever be, an you will do my bidding faithfully, and neither seek to learn its nature nor crave a further knowledge of your father than I dare at present permit. The time may come when I may, without danger to you, suffer him to know of your existence, and perchance in the years to come he may be granted the now little-dreamed-of joy of clasping to his heart an heir to his name and estate, who shall, owing to the sorrows you and I have undergone for its sake, be free from the dread taint of its forefathers! But enough now of this dream. What think you, sweet daughter, of the baptismal name bestowed upon you in the tiny Breton church wherein one of our own countrymen ministered, within a stone's-throw of the Convent, to a handful of English church people, and by whom you were duly christened according to our own Church's rites? To my ear the name Shanno hath a sound of soft music.