'
Holywell grew to have a fascination for me, and in the following
spring I left the fishing-inn beneath Snowdon, and took rooms in this
interesting old town.
VIII
One day, near the rivulet that runs from St. Winifred's Well, I
suddenly encountered Sinfi Lovell.
'Sinfi,' I said, 'she's dead, she's surely dead.'
'I tell ye, brother, she ain't got to die!' said Sinfi, as she came
and stood beside me. 'Winnie Wynne's on'y got to beg her bread. She's
alive.'
'Where is she?' I cried. 'Oh, Sinfi, I shall go mad!'
'There you're too fast for me, brother,' said she, 'when you ask me
_where_ she is; but she's alive, and I ain't come quite emp'y-handed
of news about her, brother.'
'Oh, tell me!' said I.
'Well,' said Sinfi, 'I've just met one of our people, Euri Lovell, as
says that, the very mornin' after we seed her on the hills, he met
her close to Carnarvon at break of day.'
'Then she _did_ go to Carnarvon,' I said. 'What a distance for those
dear feet!'
'Euri knowed her by sight,' said Sinfi, 'but didn't know about her
bein' under the cuss, so he jist let her pass, sayin' to hisself,
"She looks jist like a crazy wench this mornin', does Winnie Wynne.
Pages:
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328