’Give the bright balansers to Lady Sinfi’s poor sister, my rei; give the balansers to the poor Gypsy, my rei.’

Rhona, however, instead of joining Videy in the prayer for backsheesh, ran down the path in the footsteps of Sinfi.

What money I had about me I was carrying loose in my waistcoat pocket, and I pulled it out, gold and silver together.  I picked out the sovereigns (five) and gave them to her, retaining half-a-sovereign and the silver for my use before returning to the hotel at Dolgelley.  Videy took the sovereigns and then pointed, with a dazzling smile, to the half-sovereign, saying, ’Give Lady Sinfi’s poor sister the posh balanser [half-sovereign], my rei.’

I gave her the half-sovereign,’ when she immediately pointed to a half-crown in my hand, and said, ’Give the poor Gypsy the posh-courna, my rei.’

So grateful was I to the very name of Lovell, that I was hesitating whether to do this, when I was suddenly aware of the presence of Sinfi, who had returned with Rhona.  In a moment Videy’s wrist was in a grip I had become familiar with, and the money fell to the ground.  Sinfi pointed to the money and said some words in Romany.  Videy stooped and picked the coins up in evident alarm.  Sinfi then said some more words in Romany, whereupon Videy held out the money to me.  I felt it best to receive it, though Sinfi never once looked at me; and I could not tell what expression her own honest face wore, whether of deadly anger or mortal shame.  The two sisters walked off in silence together, while Rhona set up a kind of war-dance behind them, and the three went down the path.

In a few minutes Sinfi again returned and, pointing in great excitement to the sunset sky, cried, ’Look, look!  The Dukkeripen of the trushul.’ [Footnote] And indeed, the sunset was now making a spectacle such as might have aroused a spasm of admiration in the most prosaic breast.  As I looked at it and then turned to look at Sinfi’s noble features, illumined and spiritualised by a light that seemed more than earthly, a new feeling came upon me as though y Wyddfa and the clouds were joining in a prophecy of hope.

[Footnote:  Cross.]

VII

After losing Sinfi I hired some men to assist me in my search.  Day after day did we continue the quest; but no trace of Winifred could be found.  The universal opinion was that she had taken sudden alarm at something, lost her foothold, and fallen down a precipice, as so many unfortunate tourists had done in North Wales.  One day I and one of my men met, on a spur of the Glyder, the tourist of the flint implements with whom I had conversed at Bettws y Coed.  He was alone, geologising or else searching for flint implements on the hills.  Evidently my haggard appearance startled him.  But when he learnt what was my trouble he became deeply interested.  He told me that one day after our meeting at ‘The Royal Oak,’ Bettws y Coed,