And from the patient old vicar she learned many pretty fairy tales and legends of the country-side, of which none so pleased her childish fancy as the tale of the Mystic Maiden of the Craig Aran Pool, and of her three sons, the wise and learned physicians of Glyn Melen, whose names were already familiar to her ears from the lips of her friend the Black Horseman, whose wondrous lore in plants and herbs and all healing arts, and whose goodness to the suffering poor, had made their names to be renowned in all that lonely mountain region which had given them birth, as well as through the length and breadth of the fair Gwynnon Valley, and of whom even now, after the space of three hundred years, there was known to be at least one brave and skilful descendant on whom the mystic gift rested in full measure, though none could say where he dwelt and practised his arts, saving only the mysterious Black Horseman, who had indeed confessed to Jack that the unknown mother of his foster-child had dealings with him. But the secret of his abode was one which Primrose, with all her wiles, could never extract from him when she grew old enough to tease him on the matter. It was on a fair summer's evening that the adventure referred to at the beginning of the chapter befell Little Miss Primrose. The Black Horseman's visits to the cottage twice in each year were great events in her life, long looked for and remembered. She well knew the clatter of the black horse's hoofs, however distant, and at its first echo would run and watch eagerly for the first glimpse of the fiery steed. She had established a firm friendship with the strange horseman, who never failed to lift her into the saddle before him, and ride with her some few times up and down the road, after first letting her thrust her little hand into the depths of his unfathomable pocket for her mother's letter, which she was proud of delivering into Jack's charge with her own hands. One evening, as she sat on the bridge, counting over her toll-pennies, and thinking what a wondrously rich man "Dad" must ere now have become with such a nightly store poured into his coffers, she suddenly heard the well-known clatter over the stony road, and rushed to the cottage door to tell Jack the black horse was coming. The tall horseman took off his plumed hat to her with great gallantry, as he always did, but instead of stooping at once to lift her into the saddle, he called the boatman, and leaning down, with his head against the black horse's neck, held a whispered conversation with him, while she danced around with impatience. Then Jack told her that the Black Horseman wished to take her for a long ride that evening, and that if she would like to go with him, she must first come and don her Sunday attire, that she might ride away like a grand little lady. Little Miss Primrose clapped her hands for joy, and was in the house, brushing out her tangled golden locks, before Jack could finish speaking.