L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 H8A.C 
 
 v/.l 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYK 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
THE 
 
 COST OF CAERGWYK 
 
 MARY HOWITT. 
 
 ■ What shall it profit a man, though he gain the whole world, and lose 
 his own soul ? " 
 
 IN THREE Y0LU:MES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HUEST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1864. 
 
 The right of Translation is reserved. 
 
JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. 
 
^.5 3 
 v-.l 
 
 CJ> 
 
 cr. 
 
 CM 
 
 THE 
 
 COST OF CAEEG.WYN. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Amongst that lesser group of mountains which, 
 forming the lower spurs of the great Snowdonian 
 range, runs along the sea-coast of Caernarvonshire, 
 and bears the general term of the Eryrie, lies one 
 little valley to which we would, at the commence- 
 ment of our story, especially call the attention of 
 the reader. Hills of considerable hei2:ht close it 
 in on either side ; on the west Moel Deon and Moel 
 Eledyr, their softly swelling outlines seeming to 
 melt into each other, whilst above them towers the 
 strangely-crested ridge of Cader Caradoc, worthy to 
 be the seat, as tradition affirms it anciently was, of a 
 valiant Cymrian chieftain of that name. On the east 
 rises the bold Pentaren, or the Thunder-mountain, 
 
 VOL. I, 1 
 
"Z THE COST OF CAERGWTN. 
 
 the summit of which is crowned by an ancient dinas 
 or fortress. 
 
 Pentaren is the most important mountain of this 
 immediate district, and rises bristling above the sea, 
 a landmark to a great distance, with his feet on the 
 shore and his head frequently in the clouds. Seen 
 from our little valley, Pentaren reveals but little of 
 his bulk, appearing of less dimensions than even his 
 opposite neighbours, the two Moels, the fact being 
 that here the lower slopes only are seen, and which, 
 rising directly before the view, conceal the higher 
 and sterner features of the mountain. 
 
 With the exception of Pentaren, all the hills 
 slope away as they approach the sea, leaving along 
 the shore a soft, level extent of land, now finely cul- 
 tivated and of great value, but at the time at which 
 our story commences, for the most part a wild, bleak 
 extent of marsh and moorland, with here and there 
 an ancient or more modern encroachment on the 
 waste ; but all equally ill-farmed and half covered 
 with rushes, and lying open, like the whole flat, to 
 the ravages of the sea, or rather straits, for we have 
 Anglesea before us, and the dreary Lavan Sands 
 stretching yellow and broad at low water. 
 
 Leaving the shore, however, for the purpose of 
 ascending the valley, we must follow the rocky bed of 
 the Afon, a small mountain-stream which, here enter- 
 ing the sea, covers a broad extent of land with stones 
 and boulders, many of immense size, between and over 
 which the fresh water flows to the salt ; in winter and 
 wet seasons with great violence and impetuosity, but 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 6 
 
 otherwise, meandering leisurely along, losing its 
 force in the wide space which it covers. The broad 
 outlet of this rude, rocky stream seems almost to fill 
 the mouth of the valley, which is entered by a road 
 on its edge. This gorge passed, however, the hills 
 on either side recede, and you presently come upon 
 the little village of Dol-y-maenan, in simple English, 
 the Stony Meadow, so called from the mass of stone 
 which lies scattered about, the product also of the 
 river-bed, and which, though for past ages used in the 
 building of the village and the village church, would 
 suffice for ages yet to come, even though Dol-y-mae- 
 nan should increase to a large town. 
 
 Strangely melancholy and chaotic as is the en- 
 trance to and the lower level of the valley, which 
 there, in fact, is little more than the broad bed of 
 the mountain-stream, yet the feet of the hills on 
 either side present mounds and ridges of unrivalled 
 verdure and beauty, scattered with trees, and furn- 
 ishing pleasant sites for little homesteads, which 
 can thus raise their heads into the air and sunshine, 
 above the grey desolation below. The little valley 
 runs up into these green velvety hills, narrowing as 
 it ascends, and marked by a line of trees, till at a 
 considerable elevation it is divided by a small inde- 
 pendent mountain, dropped into it, as it were, and 
 called Bedd Odo,* or the grave of the Giant Odo. 
 Here it branches off to the right and left ; on the left, 
 still ascending, it gradually loses itself in the soft 
 slopes of mountain-pasture behind Pentaren ; on the 
 * Pronounced Bcth-Odo. 
 
4 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 right it becomes merely tlie course for a short distance 
 of the wild rocky Afon, which has its source beyond 
 Moel Deon, in Llyn-an-Afon, a small, black moun- 
 tain-lake lying under the stony comb of Cader 
 Caradoc. From its first emergence as an individual 
 stream, the little Afon, like the playful child of a 
 melancholy mother, comes sliding and leaping along 
 its rocky course, on the brown moorland descent of 
 Moel Deon, till it ^s precipitated through a dark fis- 
 sure on the face of the rock, by a tumultuous though 
 not lofty fall, into the smaller branch of our valley. 
 "With a vast increase of life after this plunge, it 
 bounds away to Bedd Odo, and there, cleaving its 
 course through the broken rocks of that old cairn 
 mountain, paves its onward path, as it has done for 
 ages, with boulders and stones, and hurrying down 
 the valley with wild impetuosity, turns the mill 
 which has stood at the back of the village from time 
 immemorial, and entering Dol-y-maenan, the meadow 
 of stones, here finds level ground, and spreads itself 
 out, henceforth leisurely stealing away to the sea, as 
 if half unwilling to leave that quiet region of which 
 it has ever been the animating spirit. 
 
 A pleasant secluded spot is this village of Dol-y- 
 maenan, with its one street of cottages, all built of 
 grey stone, yet most of them lime-washed, of a 
 dazzling whiteness, and many also with their thatched 
 roofs thick with a growth of ferns, crimson and golden 
 stonecrops, and taU yellow goat's beard. On the 
 right hand of the village also rises a sort of natural 
 earth wall, called Y Twyn glas, or the Green Ram- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWTN. O 
 
 part ; steep as that of a citadel, covered with, a soft 
 carpet of green sward, and ascended by zig-zag paths, 
 and planted with fruit-trees, thus forming the village 
 orchard, though productive of but little fruit, and 
 giving a peculiar character to the village scene. 
 
 On one of the pleasant green knolls, of which I 
 have spoken, stands the church, which, though at no 
 great height above the valley, commands a fine view 
 of the surrounding hills, and the broad extent of sea 
 and sand to the north, seen through the opening of 
 the valley, and above the Twyn glas. Beyond the 
 church, and ever ascending by rugged paths, or on 
 the open mountain-side itself, lie sparely cultivated 
 enclosures and little homesteads, either standing out 
 white to the day, or planted in little coves of the 
 hill-side, till at the distance of a couple of miles 
 from the village you reach the open mountain-pas- 
 tures, which form a green covering to the otherwise 
 dreary shoulders of Pentaren. 
 
 The Dol-y-maenan side of the mountain lies open 
 to the sun, and the scattered dwellings of the little 
 coves and terraces, on its lower slopes, bask in the 
 light of day, contrasting delightfully with the village 
 of Tan-yr-allt (or shortly Tanrallt), which lies on the 
 other side of the mountain, where, for four months 
 in the year, no sunshine ever comes. It happens, 
 unfortunately however, that the very homestead to 
 which I must, in the first instance, introduce my 
 reader has not this advantage. It lies high, in the 
 turn of the valley, beyond Bedd Odo, facing the 
 east, and you can only obtain a view of the wonderful 
 
b THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 scene whicli opens from that height to the south and 
 west by coming out of doors and standing by the 
 white- washed little outbuildings, or by crossing the 
 stile over the stone wall into the small potato and 
 barley field. The name of this upland homestead is 
 Fridd-bach,* or the Small Inclosure ; for a field or 
 two having from time immemorial been inclosed 
 round this cottage, its name was derived from that 
 circumstance. 
 
 The dwelling of Fridd-bach, like all its class, 
 consisted of but three rooms. The little cottage kit- 
 chen and a small inner apartment, the principal 
 sleeping room, and above it a sort of loft in the roof, 
 not reached by a stair- case but by a ladder, which 
 when not wanted for use was shoved within the 
 open doorway, which also admitted light, and which 
 looked down into the cottage itself. Sometimes, in. 
 the better class of Welsh cottages, that portion which 
 forms the sleeping room may be divided into two 
 chambers, each lighted by its own little window, but 
 this was not the case at Fridd-bach. 
 
 The cottage was very old and of truly primitive 
 construction, with mud floors to its two rooms, the 
 kitchen floor, however, being paved with large stones 
 round the fire-place. The windows were extremely 
 small and without casements, and the low, thatched 
 roof, like those of which I have spoken in the village, 
 was thick with a mass of many-coloured stonecrop, 
 till in summer it looked like a little garden. "With 
 the exception of the front of the cottage, which was 
 * Pronounced Freeth-bacli. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 7 
 
 thickly covered with the shrub called in English the 
 tea-tree, in "Welsh Coeden de, not many years then 
 introduced, and which with its privet-like foliage and 
 small purple flowers soon became a great favourite, 
 the outer walls, as well as the little out-buildings and 
 the rude stone fence which enclosed them, were 
 dazzlingly white with lime-wash, so that the whole 
 place looked like a little snow-wreath left by the 
 winter on the hill- side. 
 
 If the dwelling of Fridd-bach appear homely and 
 insignificant, let it not however be despised, for the 
 human beings for whom I wish to bespeak the interest 
 of my reader dwell there, and it is with their peculiar 
 trials and sorrows, their simple joys and life experi- 
 ences, that we have in the first place to become ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 It was in the somewhat dark loft of this humble 
 cottage, to ascend which the ladder had been pulled 
 down, that on a certain June evening, in the early 
 part of the present century, a man on his bended 
 knees, might have been heard pouring forth in his 
 powerful native tongue, for he knew no other, the 
 eloquent emotions and anxieties of his soul, not in- 
 terrupting so much as aiding the energy of his sup- 
 plication by the deep and groan-like sighs which 
 seemed to come up from some great hollow of his 
 heart. 
 
 " Oh Thou, in whom I trust," he ejaculated, 
 " my Lord and my King, on Thee I call, knowing 
 that Thou art near, that Thou art a promise-keeping 
 God ! But it is not for myself only that I cry ; it is. 
 
8 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 for the lambs, the young, thoughtless lambs that I 
 would bespeak Thy merciful regard ! Save them, I 
 pray Thee, from the wolves and storms of the moun- 
 tain ! My best is but poor work ; Thou art the great 
 Master Shepherd, and the lambs are Thine ! Bring 
 them into Thy happy. Thy blessed fold ! Keep 
 Laura from all sin, I beseech Thee ; she has a way> 
 ward spirit ; let her not write bitter things against 
 herself in Thy dread book. And Evan, my son, my 
 Isaac, O Lord, draw him to Thyself! Let him 
 hear Thy voice as Samuel did, and let him obey. He 
 has no mother, like Hannah, to dedicate him to Thee, 
 he is a poor deserted lamb ; the very mother that 
 bore him hardened her heart against him — yet, oh my 
 Lord, I plead for her ! though I may never hear her 
 repentance, yet do Thou hear it ! And hasten it. Lord, 
 hasten it ! Turn her heart from the evil of her ways 
 and reconcile her to Thyself! O Thou good and 
 great Physician, administer to these Thy poor sinful 
 children, myself amongst them, who are sick with 
 iniquity, such remedies as Thou seest meet ! Thou 
 canst restore the sick to health ! Thou canst recall 
 the dead to life ! These then, my sick and my dead, 
 I again bring and lay before Thee. In Thy great 
 mercy heal and restore them ! Be merciful to them, O 
 Lord and Saviour, so shall Thy servant rejoice in 
 Thee! Amen." 
 
 " Yes sure ! He will do it ! blessed be His 
 name ! '* ejaculated the man, slowly rising from his 
 knees, and descending the ladder into the lower 
 room, for though the master of the house, the loft 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 9 
 
 was his sleeping apartment, and thither, as the other 
 inmates of the house were momently expected, he 
 betook himself for privacy, though his prayers were 
 always audible. 
 
 *^ And He will do it ! Blessed be His name ! " 
 again he murmured, looking round him in the cot- 
 tage-kitchen with a sort of astonished gaze, as if 
 having been in the high regions of spiritual emotion, 
 it was strange to find himself again amongst common 
 everyday things. 
 
 Simeon Hughes, for such was his name, was in 
 person a thorough Welshman, somewhat under the 
 middle height, though strongly built. In age he 
 looked seventy, but he was fifteen years short of that 
 period, though, as far as anxiety and sorrow went, he 
 might lay claim to the full share, even for three-score 
 and ten. He had been a handsome man in his 
 younger years, and his features had that clearness 
 and perfection of outline which is usually supposed 
 to belong to higher birth than that of the peasant. 
 The well- developed round contour of the head was 
 very striking through the thin locks which, leaving 
 the top and front of the head perfectly bald, hung 
 wavy to the shoulders. His dress was that of the 
 Welsh peasant, half a century ago ; good strong 
 homespun, though the peculiar sorrows of his home * 
 caused but little of such thrifty domestic work as 
 spinning to be done of late years under his roof. 
 
 In his outward circumstances Simeon Hughes 
 could hardly be called a poor man. The homestead 
 of Fridd-bach, though very humble, was his own by 
 
10 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 long inheritance, with the right of pasturage on the 
 mountain, and a considerable sum of money, partly the 
 savings of his life, in the oaken chest, which was now 
 kept within the unused chimney of his sleeping loft. 
 There was something of the gentleman in his appear- 
 ance, for the Hugheses of Fridd-bach had a longish 
 pedigree, of which they were proud. He was also 
 parish-clerk and the friend and associate of the church- 
 warden, Mr Grono Yaughan of Glanrafon, of whom 
 we shall have much to say anon, whilst in the matter 
 of church business he had considerably more weight 
 than the E.ev. Edward Edwards, the incumbent, him- 
 self. 
 
 " Yes, sure and He will do it ! Blessed be His 
 name ! '' ejaculated he for the third time, after which 
 he seemed to wake up to a sense of his surroundings. 
 
 The cottasje kitchen with its small window looked 
 dark, for though the sunset at that season illumined 
 the open sea-horizon of E-ed Wharf Bay, between 
 Anglesea and Priestholm, and bathed in splendour the 
 entire upper part of the Dol-y-maenan valley, yet the 
 cottage of Fridd-bach, as I have said, was itself turned 
 away from these cheering influences, therefore none of 
 the golden splendour of sunset could illumine its inte- 
 rior. When therefore Simeon Hughes, having laid 
 down his spiritual burden, as he hoped, in his cham- 
 ber, looked roundhim in the silent unoccupied kitchen, 
 filled as with the gloom of coming night, he seemed 
 met by an influence of a depressing character. 
 
 At that moment the bright enamelled-faced clock 
 sonorously proclaimed the hour of eight. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 11 
 
 " Eight ! " exclaimed he in a tone of impatience, 
 as he glanced first at the snow-white table standing 
 unoccupied under the window, and then at the hand- 
 some old oak dresser with its multifarious yet orderly- 
 array of crockery both for ornament and use, — " Eight ! 
 and no sign of supper ! where can Laura be ? " 
 
 " Laura ! '* he called through the open door. But 
 no answer came. He stepped out into the little yard 
 at the back of the house, then round the corner of the 
 wall into the golden light of the descending sun, and 
 saw the radiant disk like liquid fire as yet some height 
 above the sea-horizon, and flooding the whole distance 
 with such an efi*ulgence of glory as to render it almost 
 invisible. It was very beautiful, and Simeon Hughes, 
 though not much given to observing the outward 
 charms of nature, felt the influence of the scene and 
 hour, and looking over the white-washed wall into his 
 potato-field, admired his crop, and felt thankful for 
 it ; admired in an unconscious sort of way the potato 
 blossom, which shone out brightly from amongst the 
 green leaves, wondering at the aflluent goodness of 
 God, who, not satisfied with giving usefulness to the 
 root, expended so much beauty of form and colour 
 on the flower. 
 
 This thought occupying his mind very pleasantly 
 and wholesomely for some little time, it was with 
 anything but displeasure that he again looked across 
 his potato-field towards Dol-y-maenan, but neither 
 the missing Laura nor her young brother Evan, nor 
 lanto,* as he was familiarly called, was in sight. 
 * Pronounced Yanto. 
 
12 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 He returned leisurely to the cottage, but without 
 entering the door continued his walk to the little 
 cowhouse, near which stood in autumn the peat- stack 
 and little hayrick ; looked in, as if to see that all was 
 right, then went on a few paces, so as to obtain a view 
 of the descent of the mountain, for Laura was a ram- 
 bler, he knew, and what so likely as that she should 
 have been tempted out again after milking by some 
 idle fancy or other, and be now on her way back ? 
 But no, neither she nor any other human being was 
 in sight in that direction, and the glowing sunset 
 light on Pentaren, and the warm fragrance which 
 seemed to descend from the heated mountain- side, 
 again came like a soothing influence of sympathy and 
 tenderness over the old man's spirit, and after looking 
 round him again, he walked leisurely back towards 
 the house. So leisurely indeed that he delayed his 
 steps to drag out of the way some old gorse-bushes, 
 which having been cut in the spring, had lain ever 
 since, an encumbrance and an impediment, on the spot 
 where they were first thrown in the spirit of apathy, 
 which is a Welsh characteristic, and which might 
 have lain there for months yet, till some shortness of 
 fuel had turned attention to them as a matter of use. 
 In fact, it was when the thought of returning indoors 
 and boiling the potatoes for supper was uppermost in 
 his mind, and the necessity for gathering up kindling 
 material occurred to him, that he performed for him- 
 self in passing this little service, perhaps unconscious- 
 ly glad of a plea for remaining in the brighter out-of- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 13 
 
 doors atmosphere, instead of returning to the gloomy 
 and solitary kitchen. 
 
 " Well/' thought he, again reverting to the absent 
 Laura, " if she and the lad are not in mischief, there's 
 no harm done. It is not so late out of doors as it 
 looks in ; and I can get supper ready as I have done 
 many a time before ! " 
 
 It was a satisfaction to Simeon when at length he 
 returned to the house-place, with his armful of gorse, 
 to find a fire smouldering in the peats, and the great 
 pot boiling. He had not remarked these evidences 
 of his young daughter's thoughtfulness when he 
 went out ; and looking farther around, he discovered 
 the potatoes peeled in an earthen pot of water stand- 
 ing on the hearth. It was aU right therefore. And now, 
 whilst the hard vegetable is gradually softening un- 
 der the influence of fire, and Simeon brings out the 
 large barley loaf, and the other requisites for the 
 coming meal, we will look after the missing Laura 
 and her young brother. 
 
 In the first place, I must however remark that 
 an English gentleman, Mr Rutherford, had some 
 years before commenced the re- working of an ancient 
 stone quarry on the top of Pentaren, and this, having 
 been so long in successful operation, furnished a steady 
 branch of industry to great numbers of the male 
 population of Dol-y-maenan, and the villages on the 
 other side the mountain. The quarry works being 
 more lucrative than the poor farming of the district, as 
 well as furnishing a steady, unvarying occupation 
 
14 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 from year's end to year's end, subject only to such 
 interruption as the severity of the winter might occa- 
 sion, had, spite of its dangers, become a popular call- 
 ing in the neighbourhood. The most hale and well- 
 conditioned men pressed into the work, nor could 
 any close their eyes to the fact that young men so 
 working grew hardier and were better developed in 
 limb and general vigour of frame. The young men, 
 and none but young men in their full vigour entered 
 this new calling, were confessedly handsomer and 
 finer fellows than those who plodded on the poor 
 barren lowlands, or fished amongst the shallow waters 
 of the yellow Lavan Sands. As a matter of course, 
 therefore, they were the pride of their native villages 
 and homesteads, and were admired by the girls and 
 women as athletes who struggled with the great forces 
 of nature, and compelled them to their will, turning 
 the very stones of the mountain into bread. Their 
 chests were broad, their arms sinewy, their step firm 
 and elastic, and their str'ength and hardihood of the 
 old heroic type. 
 
 Laura Hughes, Simeon's daughter, liked to see the 
 quarry lads of Dol-y-maenan, in the evening when 
 their work was done, come trooping down the moun- 
 tain by the rough stony paths which they had worn 
 in their daily ascent and descent, not winding slowly 
 to right and left, but almost sheer downwards, as if 
 they would defy difficulty, over the loose stony refuse 
 which had been flung outwards in the times of the old 
 quarryings, ages before, and had grown like gigantic 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 15 
 
 ant-hillocks out of the mountain's breast, and which 
 the present work was actively augmenting. 
 
 lanto, Laura's half-brother, a handsome, high- 
 spirited lad of eight, was a great favourite with some 
 of the young quarrymen, especially of E-ichard Row- 
 lands, a fine young fellow whose home was the little 
 farm of Mawn-ddu * on the mountain moorlands 
 beyond Pentaren^ but who from considerations of 
 family convenience had been for some time lodging 
 at Dol-y-maenan. The E-owlandses and the Hugheses 
 were distant relatives, and Richard, who was of a 
 religious turn, was somewhat a favourite of Simeon's, 
 though he was a Methodist, to which body the old 
 man had a strong aversion. Havinsr faith therefore 
 in Rowlands' care and general oversight, Simeon 
 made no objection to his little son occasionally going 
 to the quarry, where he was always supposed to be 
 under the charge of the young man. 
 
 On the day therefore on which our story opens, 
 — Simeon having gone early to Bangor for a bolt for 
 one of the church window shutters, which, having been 
 out of repair for many years, he had, at length, himself 
 repaired — lanto, who had quarrelled with his sister, 
 ran away without his dinner to the quarry, leaving her 
 very well satisfied at home by herself. Laura liked to 
 be her own mistress, for then she could sing her own 
 songs and follow her own devices. Accordingly in 
 the afternoon she locked the door, and putting the key 
 in its established place of concealment under a large 
 ♦ Pronounced Mawn-thee. 
 
16 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 stone by the cow-house door, and leaving the whole 
 place under the trusty care of the grey sheep-dog 
 Mingar, she went up, as usual, with a number of 
 other girls and women from Dol-y-maenan, to milk 
 on the njountain-pastures. Away they went, with 
 their shining cans, which reflected the sunlight far 
 below, laughing and talking and singing, up the 
 winding paths of the green mountain-side, sit- 
 ting down, now and then, for they had plenty of 
 time, and this was the holiday-making in the day's 
 work. 
 
 Eeturned home from her milking, Laura made 
 preparation, as we have seen, for supper, at which her 
 father was expected ; then again locking the door and 
 leaving Mingar in charge, she took her knitting and 
 again set out. Laura, in this last respect, was truly 
 Welsh, and employed her hands, when not otherwise 
 engaged,in knitting, however idle her thoughts might 
 be the while. She was now setting off to look for the 
 truant lanto, and as it was then at least two hours 
 before sunset, she wound her way leisurely upwards, 
 knitting busily, through the heather, not yet in pur- 
 ple blossom, on the upper slopes of the mountain, 
 till coming upon the direct stony path of the quarry- 
 men, she sate to wait for their return. 
 
 She was a tall, well-made girl of sixteen, with a 
 complexion in which the rosy hue of health was en- 
 riched with golden sun-tints till it seemed darker 
 than it was by nature ; her features were good and 
 clearly defined, but the charm of the whole counte- 
 nance was in her beautiful, dark grey eyes, eyes of 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 17 
 
 that old British type, sometimes grey and sometimes 
 brown, which to this day are characteristic of the 
 Welsh. Deep, clear, and dark eyes, yet filled with 
 light ; eyes they are such as flashed in the proud, 
 indignant countenance of Boadicea, or spoke the 
 eloquence of the Divine Truth in that of the British 
 Princess, the Empress Helena, the mother of Con- 
 stantino, whose beloved name Cymrian tradition has 
 gratefully retained in many a beautiful locality. 
 Laura's eyes were of this class, and therefore very 
 beautiful ; and though her brown and wavy hair was 
 somewhat wild and unkempt, in accordance with her 
 sunburnt complexion, she was one of the pleasantest 
 objects you could meet with On a summer's day, a 
 regular mountain maiden beaming with health and 
 good humour. Wordsworth, had he seen her, would 
 have written a poem to her, or had there been a 
 pre-Kaphaelite painter in those parts before the class 
 existed in England, he would have gone wild over the 
 rich, lovely colouring of her complexion, her speaking 
 eyes, and the simple joyousness of her countenance, as 
 a bit of beautiful nature. 
 
 When the first troop of quarrymen came down 
 neither Rowlands nor lanto were with them. From 
 them, however, she learned that, as blasting was to 
 take place on the morrow, some of the men, amongst 
 whom was Rowlands, were -detained in prejDaration 
 for this work. She waited therefore, laughing and 
 joking with the later stragglers from the quarry, first 
 patiently, then, as the time wore on and the sun began 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
 ^ .■.- 
 
18 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 to sink, impatiently ; but still, though she could see 
 the stony path stretching upward, like a white cord 
 on the old grey shingle, she saw no sign of Rowlands 
 and the boy returning. 
 
 After awhile, however, she heard voices in the 
 distance, as if at the back of the mountain. She 
 listened. Yes ; laughter and merriment were un- 
 questionable ; others were with them ; they had 
 perhaps been preparing their work on a still higher 
 level, and were returning by another path. 
 
 Starting up, therefore, she hurried round a small 
 shoulder of the hill, where she expected to come upon 
 them. The laughter and merriment, however, which 
 had guided her thither, to her surprise did not 
 approach. It was stationary, silent for I'awhile, then 
 bursting into loud peals, and very shortly she came 
 upon a strange scene. A number of young men and 
 lads, most of them belonging to the quarry, were 
 gathered round an object on the ground, which was 
 no other than the little lad lanto, on his knees, who 
 with a comic air of the profoundest solemnity was 
 mimicking some one in fervent prayer. There was no 
 mistaking the intention. It was his own father that 
 he was personating, with the same deep groaning of 
 heart-agony and the high rhythmical cadences of 
 Welsh supplication. 
 
 Laura's first impulse was one of intense anger, 
 shame, and disgust, and she was on the point of burst- 
 ing through the little knot of applauding listeners and 
 silencing the young scoffer in no very gentle manner, 
 when her steps were arrested by a glance from one of 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 19 
 
 the bystanders, whom till then she hadnot seen^andher 
 face flushing crimson, and her eyes sparkling as with 
 a secret joy, she forgot everything else and stood still. 
 
 *^ Rhagorol y bychan ! Etto ! " (which we may 
 English as, " Bravo, young one ! Let's have it again ! " j 
 shouted the youth at sight of whom Laura had be- 
 trayed this sudden emotion, and who from his general 
 appearance and dress, his short green coat and top- 
 boots, belonged to a class higher than the quarry, 
 "you'd make your fortune, lanto, at Caer Seoint 
 with the mountebanks ! Now finish with Amen ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " repeated the boy in his young voice, 
 with his hands clasped and his eyes upturned. 
 
 All present laughed and shouted ; and the youth 
 in the top-boots exclaimed : 
 
 ^' Now again, lanto ! It's the best bit of fun I 
 ever saw ! " 
 
 What Laura's next move would have been I can- 
 not say, for at that moment a tall young man, looking 
 over the shoulders of the lads and seeing what was 
 going on, exclaimed in a voice like thunder : 
 
 " For shame ! '^ 
 
 Then turning sharply to Laura, he said, '' How 
 dare you let the lad affront God in this way ! " and 
 bursting into the crowd snatched him up from his 
 knees and shook him lustily. 
 
 The little lad, thus suddenly toppled down as it 
 were from the height of popular admiration into 
 shame, resisted, grew red in the face, and tried to 
 get away from his captor. But he was in the grasp of 
 Richard Rowlands, the anger of whose stern count- 
 
20 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 enance cowed him as soon as he caught sight of it, 
 and he was dragged without further resistance to the 
 outside. Here, still keeping hold of him, Rowlands 
 turned the fierceness of his wrath upon the youth in 
 the top-boots. 
 
 '' It is you, Frees Vaughan," he said, " that have 
 put him up to this ! You, the son of the churchward- 
 en ; you that are about to be confirmed ! God won't 
 be mocked with impunity, I can tell you ! " 
 
 But Frees was not like lanto, held by a grasp as 
 firm as iron ; neither was he disposed to hear what 
 E-ichard Rowlands, the Methodist, might say on this 
 or any other subject. Having, therefore, exchanged 
 a glance with Laura he walked away, and the others 
 following his example, they were soon all seen 
 scampering, laughing, and shouting, down the steep 
 hill-side towards Bedd-Odo, as if in defiance. 
 
 Laura, who had felt in the first instance the sin 
 and shame of the little son mocking his old father, 
 yet who brooked very ill being found fault with at 
 any time, and least of all before Frees Yaughan, and 
 for that of which she was really innocent, also walked 
 away in a towering passion, and Rowlands was the 
 next moment at her side dragging along lanto, who 
 was now ready to cry. 
 
 '^ You ought to be everlastingly ashamed, Laura," 
 he said, "to let your good old father be mocked in that 
 way. If God had smitten you dead on the spot I 
 should not have wondered ! " 
 
 " Name of Goodness ! Don't talk in that way to 
 me ! " returned Laura, *^ I did not set him on ! " 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 21 
 
 " And as to you, lanto," continued he, now ad- 
 dressing the lad, who was obliged to run to keep 
 pace with his angry monitor, '' have not you 
 learned in God's Word that ' the eye that mocketh 
 at his father the ravens of the valley shall pick it 
 out, and the young eagles shall eat it?' Haven't you 
 learned that?" said he, shaking him desperately. 
 '^ And though there are now no eagles on Pentaren, 
 there are plenty of ravens, and as sure as God speaks 
 He means what He says. And He says too, ' Cursed 
 is he that sets light by his father ! '" 
 
 lanto now began to cry in reality, of which Row- 
 lands took no notice. Then again addressing Laura, 
 in a tone hardly less severe than that in which he 
 had addressed her brother, he said : 
 
 " If you are encouraging Frees Yaughan to come 
 after you, Laura, you are laying up such misery and 
 disgrace for yourself as will bring your father's grey 
 hairs with sorrow to the grave ! " 
 
 " Keep your preaching for those that like it ! " 
 retorted Laura, with angry quickness ; " you are just 
 another Shenkyn ap Penhydd, who saw the devil at 
 work wherever folks were enjoying themselves ! " 
 
 " You may think of my words to your sorrow ! " 
 said the young man, but Laura probably did not hear 
 them, for just then the rich, clear voice of Frees was 
 heard singing the wild devil-me-care popular song 
 Ohe-dare-dano , as now, having passed Fridd-bach and 
 parted from his companions at Bedd-Odo, he walked 
 leisurely down the valley. Laura listened, as if in 
 defiance of Rowlands' warning, with her whole soul 
 
22 
 
 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 to that voice which had such a charm for her young 
 fancy. 
 
 Eowlancls stopped when they reached the cow- 
 house at Fridd-bachj but before releasing the 
 lad he gave him a good shaking, saying, as he did 
 so : 
 
 "And mind you, lanto, if I catch you at such 
 devil's tricks again I'll give you a good thrashing ! 
 And you, Laura," said he, turning to her, "you 
 learn the fifth commandment, if you don't know it 
 already ! " 
 
 He then left them and pursued his way to Dol-y- 
 maenan. 
 
 The potatoes were boiled, and Simeon Hughes 
 had eaten his supper when the two entered. It was 
 then nine o'clock, and by that time so dark in the 
 cottage that quicker sight than the old man's would 
 have been required to perceive the disordered 
 countenances before him. By nine o'clock, in a 
 general way, that little household were either in bed 
 or going thither, and now here were these two wild 
 runagates come from nobody knew where. But the 
 old man was not angry. Perhaps his prayer or his 
 meditation in the golden sunlight afterwards had 
 raised him above either anger or suspicion. He re- 
 ceived them with a kind, fatherly welcome,in reply to 
 which Laura said that her brother was tired, which 
 the lad's silence seemed to prove; and when he 
 questioned further she explained that he had been 
 to the quarry, where Rowlands was late about the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 23 
 
 blasting ; but the name of Frees Vaughan was not 
 mentioned by her. 
 
 Whatever lanto's thoughts might be he said no- 
 thing, but he had not been so much terrified by his 
 stern monitor's denunciations as to have lost his ap- 
 petite. He did justice to the supper which Laura set 
 before him. She herself did not eat a morsel. 
 
 Simeon was particularly kind and gentle to his 
 children that night. How it cut his daughter to the 
 heart! Not that she habitually failed in duty or 
 afiection, but at this moment she felt his forbearance 
 deeply, and his goodness seemed doubly apparent to 
 her. She wished that Frees had not done this, and her 
 mind seemed tossed to and fro by conflicting feelings. 
 
 When lanto had finished his supper his father, 
 who in the mean time had lighted one of the home- 
 made candles of rush pith and fixed it in the little 
 iron pincers that served as candlestick, and having 
 selected the evening portion in his large AVelsh Bible, 
 took his usual seat on the settle by the table and read 
 the fourteenth chapter of St John, that tender ad- 
 monition of love with which our Lord comforts His 
 disciples before leaving them. It is not a long chap- 
 ter, neither was the prayer that followed it long, for 
 without these services the day never closed at Fridd- 
 bach, and a prayer it was of love, all love, of drawing 
 down, as it were, the blessing by the earnestness of 
 a loving, trusting spirit. 
 
 Had Simeon sought to probe his daughter's heart 
 to the core he could not have done it more effectually. 
 
24 THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 
 
 Never till then had she truly reverenced her father's 
 prayer, and the awful words of Richard E-owlands 
 seemed again to sound through the depths, of her 
 being. She again wept. lanto was fast asleep. He 
 had heard neither the reading nor the prayer. His 
 rosy child's face lay on his arm on the hard table be- 
 side his empty basin. 
 
 The old man rose from his knees, and lifting the 
 child carried him np the ladder, for he slept in the 
 loft with his father, undressed him, and laid him in 
 the bed with the tenderness of a woman. Laura in 
 the mean time retired to the little inner room under 
 the loft, and endeavoured to enter into a covenant 
 with God never again to fail in duty to her father. 
 
25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Simeon Hughes had been sorely tried in his do- 
 mestic relationships, so that the burden of life lay 
 heavy upon him. Born and bred in Dol-y-maenan, 
 and naturally of a grave and reserved character, he 
 married, when approaching middle life, a woman 
 whom he had long loved yet never opened his heart 
 to till the enthusiasm of youth might be supposed to 
 be passed with both of them. She was Mary Jones, 
 the daughter of the shoe-maker of the same village, 
 and Simeon might not have asked her to become his 
 wife even then, but that her father dying, the little 
 household was about to be broken up, for her mother 
 had long been dead, and she had neither brother nor 
 sister, nor indeed any near relation ; Simeon, there- 
 fore, impelled by sympathy as well as love, asked 
 her to come up to Fridd-bach as his wife, and she 
 gladly took him at his word. She and her household 
 gear, and all her little wealth amassed by her many 
 years of spinning and knitting and the small hoard- 
 
26 ^ THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 ings ofherfather in money, were removed thither ; and 
 such a comfortable, heartsome life began for Simeon 
 as made him have only one regret, that he had not 
 married Mary years before. Poor Simeon ! that re- 
 gret became tenfold when after five years this good 
 wife, this angel of the little household, this true com- 
 panion of his life, departed hence, and left him with 
 an only child, our high-spirited Laura. 
 
 The standard of religion was very low in Dol-y- 
 maenan, as it was at that time in so many other places. 
 True, things had a little mended since Simeon's youth, 
 when a knowledge of the Welsh language was not 
 thought necessary for a Welsh Bishop, and any youth, 
 educated at a poor college in South Wales, was good 
 enough for a clergyman of the Principality. Sunday 
 too was then the merriest day in the week, and the 
 clergyman, as soon as the service was over, withdrew 
 with his congregation to some adjoining field, where 
 they danced and played all kinds of athletic games. 
 The broad fiat of ground, of considerable extent and 
 covered with fine turf, which formed the head of the 
 Twyn glas, of which I have already spoken, was used 
 for this purpose at Dol-y-maenan, it having been the 
 scene for popular sports from time immemorial. The 
 rise of the Methodists put a stop to this desecration of 
 the sabbath, and called forth a higher spirit in the cler- 
 gy themselves. But although these better influences 
 had operated in some degree at Dol-y-maenan, and 
 the Rev. Edward Edwards spoke the language of the 
 people amongst whom he officiated, yet they were not 
 much benefited by his ministration. He lived three 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 27 
 
 miles away from his clmrcli, the bell of which only 
 rang when he was seen coming down the road near 
 at hand, so that people said the church waited on him, 
 and not he on the church. The condition of the 
 edifice itself too was an exemplification of the state 
 of things within. The windows were broken, and 
 closed by wooden shutters, and with the exception of 
 those of two windows near the pulpit, were not opened 
 even on Sundays, so that there was not much light, 
 neither did the preacher think it worth while to as- 
 sume the usual vestments. Frequently indeed there 
 w^as nobody to hear him, or if there were only one or 
 two, it was not thought worth while to go through 
 the services, and instead they adjourned to the public- 
 house. They who went formerly for the sports and 
 merry-makings afterwards, now could not be tempted 
 for any other purpose. 
 
 Simeon Hughes however, who was parish clerk, 
 was greatly scandalized at this state of things, and 
 determined to amend it ; the churchwarden too, Mr 
 Grono, or as we wdll plainly write it, Grono Vaughan, 
 residing at Glanrafon, a small farm, consisting of a 
 few dreary, storm- driven acres, on the narrower part 
 of the shore, on this side of Moel Eledyr, seemed in- 
 clined to follow his example, and this was a great 
 satisfaction to good Simeon. 
 
 Mrs Edwards, the clergyman's wife, though an 
 active, managing woman, rarely attended service her- 
 self; but she might be frequently seen on horseback 
 at the churchyard gate, having ridden there on her 
 husband's saddle, with her pillion behind her, waiting 
 
28 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 for him to take her place when the service was over, 
 and then ride before her home. And it was the 
 common belief, lamentable to say, that she thus came 
 prepared to convey him back, lest the unclerical com- 
 pany at the Prince Caradoc might seduce him away 
 from the church door, when it might perhaps be half 
 a week before he again found his way home. 
 
 This was a wretched state of things. Religion, 
 as far as the influence of the Established Church went, 
 was at the lowest ebb, when Mary Jones, Simeon 
 Hughes's good wife, died. Through her long illness, 
 she had no spiritual hel]o or comfort from her pastor. 
 Her husband had the strongest prejudice against the 
 Methodists, both Calvinistic and Wesleyan, or any 
 other kind of Dissenters, though they were now reap- 
 ing great harvests of salvation all over the Principal- 
 ity. But as yet they had gained no considerable 
 ground in the regions round the stony Pentaren, al- 
 though old Matthias Rowlands, the father of Richard, 
 and his family at Mawn-ddu, were one of the first- 
 fruits of the itinerant ministry which penetrated in 
 that direction. 
 
 In this famine of the word, this absolute deadness 
 of the spirit, Simeon Hughes, when the earnest 
 anxieties and sorrows of his life began, turned inward 
 to the life within his own soul, the inbreathed vitality 
 of the Divine Spirit itself, and officiated not only as 
 nurse, but as spiritual pastor, by the dying bed of his 
 wife, and became henceforward so zealous in good 
 works, and so jealous also on behalf of his church, as 
 to set about its reformation, if not altogether in the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 29 
 
 inward, at least in the outward condition. As sexton 
 and parish clerk, this did not appear out of character, 
 more especially as Mr Vaughan, the churchwarden, 
 entered into his views. It mattered but little that the 
 Kev. Edward Edwards himself took no interest in 
 the business, especially as the wealthy English gen- 
 tleman, Mr Rutherford, of an adjoining parish, by 
 whom Grono Vaughan was employed, contributed 
 the necessary funds. 
 
 The rich build churches to the memory of their 
 dead, or enrich those already built by memorial win- 
 dows, or organs, to beautify the light of day within 
 them, or elevate to higher harmony the spirits of the 
 worshippers. In something of the same sentiment it 
 was that poor Simeon Hughes, when he had laid the 
 earthly remains of his dear, true-hearted wife under 
 the green sod, below the wall of the sacred edifice, 
 felt that, as she had added a sanctity to the place, so 
 for her sake he must render it better fitted as a house 
 of worship for the living and a last resting-place for 
 the remains of the departed. The broken windows 
 therefore were glazed, the church cleaned, and the 
 porch kept closed through the week, to prevent the 
 entrance of the sheep which were either turned in to 
 graze in the churchyard, or which strayed down 
 from the mountain, and seeing greener herbage there, 
 leapt over the low wall, and in all extremes of wea- 
 ther, either heat or storm, found shelter, often even 
 in the very edifice itself. 
 
 If Simeon had not, like Solomon, built a temple 
 for the worship of his God, he had, like a second Ezra, 
 
30 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 done his best to repair it, and his earnestness and his 
 example not only prevailed on others besides Grouo 
 Vaughan to attend service on the Sunday, but gave 
 him an increased consequence amongst his neigh- 
 bours, which was very gratifying to him. He would 
 have been much happier and much more satis- 
 fied, had the Incumbent himself exhibited a corre- 
 sponding increase of zeal with the improved outward 
 condition of the building, but he did not, and Simeon 
 Hughes and Grono Yaughan were regarded as the 
 pillars of the temple, and, in proportion perhaps as 
 the E-ector neglected his duty, rose in public estim- 
 ation. 
 
 From this time these two men became intimate 
 friends. The business of the church was the first 
 common ground between them, which after-circum- 
 stances widened, and that confidence and trust 
 which the simpler, truer-hearted Simeon reposed in 
 Vaughan led to the main events I am about to 
 chronicle, and the effects of which extend beyond time 
 into eternity. 
 
 But to return to the little homestead of Fridd- 
 bach. 
 
 Simeon, whose mind since the death of his wife 
 had employed itself so much more on what appeared 
 to him religious duties, was at the same time by no 
 means negligent of his duties as a parent. His little 
 motherless daughter was the object of his tender so- 
 licitude. Her dead mother's clothes and small be- 
 longings were carefully put by and kept locked up 
 till the time when she would be able to wear and value 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. ' 31 
 
 them. Like the most carefully- trained children of 
 the Methodists, whom her father held in such con- 
 tempt, the little Laura was taught by him, not only 
 hymns and prayers, but whole portions of the Scrip- 
 tures, so that by the time she was eight she could 
 repeat , great numbers of the Psalms, many noble 
 chapters of the Prophets, especially of Isaiah, and also 
 of the Gospels. She was his companion on the hills 
 for days together, looking after his few sheep when 
 they grazed on the uplands, or even cutting turf on 
 the peaty moorlands. The little girl scarcely missed 
 the good mother whom she had lost, so wholly did 
 the father endeavour to combine the two characters 
 in himself. But she was not left wholly without a 
 female teacher for all that. 
 
 Simeon had one sister, a widow, who rejoiced in 
 the peculiar name of Nisallaf, which we will give 
 in its English form of Silence. Silence Evans lived 
 at the neighbouring village of E,o, but was ready at 
 any time to come over and set the little household to 
 rights, and to do all the numberless things which 
 are neglected in a home, let it be as small as it may, 
 where no female hand is ever busy, no female heart 
 is ever devisinf^r for the comfort and well-beins: of 
 those it loves. Silence Evans would willingly have 
 taken up her abode there ; and she often wondered 
 why her brother did not ask her to do so. But he 
 never did, and she had too much self-respect to offer 
 her services, her heart-service of love, where perhaps, 
 if not under-valued, it was not required. Therefore 
 she came now and then ; came at lambing time, or at 
 
32 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 the little sheep- shearing ; came and made in the au- 
 tumn their small stock of candles ; spun and knit for 
 them both ; gave the little girl early lessons in house- 
 hold work, and instilled into her mind simple maxims 
 of womanly wisdom and maidenly modesty, which she 
 said to herself, if only understood in part by the child, 
 would unfold into knowledge as she grew in years. 
 
 Another duty of affection and care which was 
 performed by this good woman was the careful atten- 
 tion to the clothes left behind by the little Laura's 
 mother, and which were an heir-loom kept for her 
 after use. Sometime during the summer, when the 
 days were long and the sun hot, all were brought out 
 and aired as if for use, linen and woollen alike. This 
 duty was performed on some occasion when Simeon 
 was away from home, that the sight of the well-known 
 garments might not painfully bring back old times 
 and sorrows as they hung out on the flowering gorse 
 or on the stone wall in the sun. 
 
 Thus in every way the good Silence was like a 
 loving angel in her visits to Fridd-bach ; and when 
 all the work was done, and the little household in 
 order, and she had sown, as she trusted, good seed in 
 the virginal heart of the little girl, she departed to 
 return only again when she thought her blessed offices 
 of charity and piety were wanted. 
 
 The little Laura, who was fond of her aunt, 
 greatly enjoyed her visits, and felt very solitary after 
 she was gone. But these visits were too temporary, 
 and the influence of this good woman upon a natur- 
 ally wild and somewhat wilful character apparently 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 33 
 
 soon wore off. By tlie time Laura was eiglit years old 
 she gave her anxious father many a sorrowful hour, 
 and he began to doubt very seriously his ability to 
 train her as she grew older, when the will would be 
 stronger and the bias of character less under control. 
 
 At this critical juncture Simeon made a great 
 mistake. Instead of establishing the good Silence 
 Evans under his roof as the daily guide and precep- 
 tress of his little daughter, he determined upon taking 
 to himself another wife, who should perform a 
 mother's duty to his child. He said and he believed 
 that in the choice he would now make, his own ad- 
 vantage or comfort would be quite a secondary 
 object. But like many another man in such circum- 
 stances he was self- deceived. So thought the good 
 widow of Ro when she heard the choice he had made ; 
 so thought the respectable Rowlands of Mawn-ddu, 
 whilst Lisabeth Vaughan, the wife of his friend the 
 churchwarden, laughed to herself and wondered 
 '^ how the fine lady of Llanddarog* would reconcile 
 herself to Simeon's methodistical way and the poor 
 living of Fridd-bach." 
 
 The marriage of Simeon fell out on this wise. 
 
 At Llanddarosr on the other side of the Lavan 
 
 o 
 
 Sands, in Anglesea, lived the parish clerk and also 
 gamekeeper of the Llanddarog estate, John Jones by 
 name, with his wife and her niece, Susannah Morgan. 
 Susannah was from South Wales, and therefore if not 
 looked down upon by her own relations, — for Mrs 
 
 * Pronounced. Lantliarog. 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
34 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 Jones herself, also, by the mother's side, was from the 
 southern portion of the Principality, — yet by all their 
 neighbours and acquaintance was regarded with that 
 questionable sort of endurance which is toleration 
 rather than favour, and which the North and South 
 feel towards each other. But the true cause why the 
 handsome and somewhat bold girl came, some ten 
 years before, under the care of her Anglesea relatives 
 was never exactly known to the gossips on either side 
 of the Straits. Nevertheless her uncle and aunt long 
 used as a whip to keep her in order the fact that she 
 had been snatched by them, owing to information 
 received by them from her angered relatives in South 
 Wales, from a troop of strolling players at Caer- 
 Seoint. 
 
 She was a tall, well-made girl of eighteen at that 
 time, somewhat masculine in deportment and of a 
 bold and determined character. Such a girl, as she 
 grew older and steadied down, ought, her Llanddarog 
 relatives thought, to have had many lovers and been 
 soon married off their hands. But either the pre- 
 judice of her South Welsh origin, or more naturally 
 a something reserved and very peculiar about her, kept 
 the young men at a distance, and by the time she was 
 eight-and-twenty she had received no offer of mar- 
 riage which her relatives could advise her accepting. 
 In the meantime she gave them more satisfaction 
 than they expected ; went soberly year by year with 
 her old aunt to cut the sea-grass on the sandy shore of 
 the island in the late summer, and wove it with her 
 into mats, which were sold either to a shop in Beau- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 35 
 
 maris or to pedlars who hawked tliem about from one 
 solitary farmhouse or dwelling in the island to another. 
 She also attended market, whether at Beaumaris or 
 Bangor, taking thither in the season rabbits which 
 her uncle, the gamekeeper, caught. During these 
 ten years, also, her immediate relatives in South 
 Wales having died, a small sum of money came to 
 her, which was, according to custom in such cases, 
 deposited in her little oak chest with her. other pos- 
 sessions, and hence she became a small heiress. 
 
 It was at Bangor that Simeon first met Susannah 
 Morgan, not selling rabbits in the market, but at 
 the house of the bard lola, with whose wife she was 
 intimate. lola's wife very early conceived the idea 
 of bringing about a marriage between these two, for 
 Simeon was always considered a well-to-do man ; 
 hence she always had tea ready when they were ex- 
 pected, made a cake, and entertained them sump- 
 tuously. Susannah had no intentions^of the kind, for 
 her mind was then secretly engaged by the fascina- 
 tions of a young Englishman, a law-copier, as he was 
 called, or lawyer's clerk at Caernarvon., with whom 
 she had repeatedly been in company. 
 
 This young man, Frederick Nye, had come in 
 the first instance, as many did, to shoot rabbits at 
 Penmon Point, beyond Llanddarog, and, as was cus- 
 tomary, took his refreshment at the gamekeeper's 
 house. But though he was free-spoken and good- 
 looking, and paid his money as liberally as the 
 gentlemen from Baron Hill or Llanddarog itself, 
 yet he won no favour from Susannah's relatives, who 
 
36 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 from the first took an extraordinary dislike to him. 
 Not so Susannah, though her aunt and uncle were 
 long unaware of the circumstancej for she was cau- 
 tious and reserved in all her actions ; yet Nye and 
 she frequently met, and lola's wife, though never 
 admitted to her confidence, determined to bring 
 about a marriage with good Simeon Hughes, and 
 thus put an end to the possible consequences of an 
 acquaintance from which she suspected nothing 
 but evil. 
 
 Simeon Hughes, as I have said, when he first 
 began to entertain the idea of a second marriage, in- 
 tended, above all things, to choose prudently; to 
 niarr}^ a woman staid in years, fitted to himself in every 
 respect, and, above all things, calculated to be a good 
 mother and a good example to his young daughter. 
 What then could induce him to think of Susannah 
 Morgan ? 
 
 When lola's Vk^ife first seriously suggested such a 
 thing, he laughed. She was, he said, taller than 
 himself, which was a great objection, and she spoke 
 English, which was a still greater. Besides, she 
 was, as it were, a veiled, impenetrable character, 
 which he could never make out ; she was a riddle, 
 the solution of which he never could find. He 
 thought of the dead Mary Jones, who was as open 
 and clear as the daylight, and then he said, " No ! 
 Susannah Morgan from South Wales would be, the 
 last woman I should ever think of marrying ! " He 
 felt safe in his self-confidence. '^ Never," he said to 
 himself, " would I entrust my own happiness and the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 37 
 
 well-being of my little Laura to a woman like 
 Susannah, who is impenetrable as night, and who 
 has a laugh like the shriek of an evil spirit ! '' 
 
 Nevertheless, Simeon kept thinking about Susan- 
 nah Morgan, and whether it were mesmerism, or 
 magic influence, or what else, there is no saying, but 
 he actually fell in love with her, — yes, fell, for it was 
 a fall, and once possessed by the idea of this strange 
 woman it could not be got rid of again. At first 
 he was sincerely troubled about it, and made a pro- 
 mise to himself not to go in her way, to avoid Bangor 
 market, and, above all, the house of his friend Tola. 
 But it was no use his keeping away from Bangor, 
 for he could not work in his little potato-field at 
 home, could not come round the corner of the white- 
 washed wall of Fridd-bach into the open view of the 
 sea and the opposite shore, without his eye being 
 attracted to the white church of Llanddarog, on which 
 the sun seemed always to be shining.. He thought 
 frequently about that church, determined not to 
 think of Susannah, and he wondered how it was that 
 he had never before paid much attention to it. If the 
 architecture of the church of Dol-y-maenan was in- 
 teresting to him, which dated back only three cen- 
 turies, how much more deserving of notice was that 
 of Llanddarog, which could boast of its ten centuries' 
 duration ! for it was a place of old note and renown, 
 and its foundations had been laid at the time when 
 Bangor, the Chief-quire, was the earlier seat of Chris- 
 tianity by those waters. Later it had belonged to a 
 Benedictine monastery, and now stood amongst ven- 
 
38 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 erable ruins. Simeon, who was a devoted reader of 
 old Wynne's History of his Country, knew all that 
 either his pages or tradition has preserved of Mon- 
 mam-Cymra, or Mona the mother of Wales ; never- 
 theless, he could not help wondering that the eccle- 
 siastical tendency of his mind of late years had not 
 induced him to go across and examine the old sacred 
 edifice. He knew very well that Susannah's uncle, 
 the gamekeeper-clerk, lived [under the same roof as 
 the church, in fact amongst the old ruins, but as he 
 professed not to be thinking at all of that strange 
 young woman, he attributed the new interest he took 
 in Llanddarog to quite another cause. 
 
 One fine Sunday evening in June, after a wet, 
 cold time, Simeon took a walk into his potato-field 
 with little Laura. She had repeated her psalms and 
 her holy chapters to him in the afternoon within 
 doors, for there was only church-service once a day 
 at Dol-y-maenan ; he was pleased with her retentive 
 memory and good understanding of what she recited, 
 therefore he took her out with him in the evening to 
 look at the green potato crop, about which he had 
 some anxiety, and the little plot of barley below it. 
 It was a soft balmy evening ; the earth, in which 
 was so much moisture, seeming to steam under 
 the influence of the golden sun, which was descend- 
 ing towards a cloudless west. The spring flowers 
 were nearly over, but Laura gathered red campions 
 and blue-bells on the head-land of the little cul- 
 tivated field, with here and there a little sprig of 
 golden whin. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 39 
 
 For a while the two sat down on some large stones 
 amongst the green barley, and looked out over the 
 splendid view before them. From that height they 
 could see the open ocean before Puffin Island, and a 
 great portion of Anglesea, and ships in the far dis- 
 tance on their way either to Liverpool, Ireland, or 
 America. The narrow sea reflected the gorgeous light 
 of the sky in ten thousand little ripples, and the op- 
 posite shore and island lay now under a soft haze, as it 
 were, of intense light, yet so clear was the atmosphere 
 that every object was distinctly visible. 
 
 Simeon, who had made a sort of promise, if not a 
 vow, to himself to put away all thoughts of Susannah, 
 and who that day had religiously kept it, was there- 
 fore rather startled when his little daughter asked, — 
 
 *^ What place is that, father, that looks so white 
 and pleasant just opposite in Anglesea ? " 
 
 " Which ? " asked Simeon, wishing perhaps to 
 keep faith with himself; ''at the point yonder? 
 that 's the light-house. A wonderful thing is a light- 
 house. In my father's time — " 
 
 " No, not the light-house," interrupted the child ; 
 " the light-house is not just opposite. I mean the 
 little white place, under the island, where the trees 
 are." 
 
 " That is Llanddarog," returned Simeon. 
 
 '' And what is there at Llanddarog ? " demanded 
 she. 
 
 " It is an old church, a famous old church, as old 
 almost as the time of the apostles," replied he. 
 
 " Is.it as old as Llansrelvnin church ? " she asked. 
 
40 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 " Older, a great deal/' returned her father ; " for 
 whilst the early Cymri were yet pagans, and the 
 Druids worshipped on their stone altars on the moun- 
 tains, as at Carreg Druidion beyond Fridd-bach, and 
 the dark cloud of their idolatry hung over our beau- 
 tiful Caernarvonshire, the light of God's truth shone 
 bright here and there, and the old bloody Danes 
 came in their war-ships from the North to learn Chris- 
 tianity in the holy Mon. Wherever a town of Bangor 
 stands, my child, as yonder, on the Straits where 
 you can see the smoke rising in the sunlight to the 
 west, or Bangor-iscoed,on the Dee, or Bangor over the 
 sea, out there in Ireland, there was a Christian church; 
 there God's name was worshipped, and His law rever- 
 renced. That was the Light in darkness," added 
 Simeon, deeply feeling the sacredness of his subject. 
 
 " Is that the reason, then, why Llanddarog looks 
 so bright and pleasant ? " asked the little girl, on 
 whose mind the dark cloud of idolatry, as spoken of 
 by her father, had made a deep impression. *' Is it 
 God's light shining there that makes one like to look 
 at Llanddarog ? " 
 
 " Llanddarog is not Bangor," said Simeon ; " I 
 was telling you of Bangor, or the Chief-quire, because 
 there the praises of God were always sung. Your 
 heart, my child," said he with tender emphasis, 
 '^ must be a chief-quire, and all your wishes and de- 
 sires must be as angels singing to God. Eemember 
 that, Laura fach," * added he, laying his hand lovingly 
 on her young head, "and whenever you look across the 
 
 * Fach or bach, according to gender, a term of endearment. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 41 
 
 water don't look at Llanddarog, but at Bangor, where 
 the white smoke rises in the sunlight, like the smoke 
 of the sacrifice, and with all your heart, and with all 
 your mind, and with all your strength, love and 
 praise God ! " 
 
 ^' But Llanddarog is a church, father,'' persisted 
 she, not liking to be diverted from the one object 
 that interested her, and all the more resolutely in- 
 clined towards it as her father sought to turn her 
 thoughts away ; " and if it is older than Llangelynin, 
 what an old church it must be ! Is there service there, 
 father, and who is the clerk ? " 
 
 " His name is John Jones," returned her father, 
 now compelled, as it were, to enter upon the inter- 
 dicted subject, for, strange to say, Simeon Hughes 
 seldom refused his daughter anything, and she, ac- 
 customed to this indulgence, had no idea of giving 
 iip her wishes. " He is John Jones, and he lives 
 under the same roof as the church." 
 
 " How nice ! " exclaimed she ; " Does he keep the 
 church as you keep ours, father ? and does he shut 
 the sheep out and open the window-shutters ? " 
 
 Simeon could not tell. And now he was think- 
 ing about Susannah Morgan, the sunlight, as it 
 seemed to him, of the little household under the 
 church roof. 
 
 " If it were not for the water I would go over to 
 Llanddarog," said Laura, looking admiringly still at 
 the white object on the opposite shore. 
 
 But Simeon was now standing. His eyes gazed 
 in the same direction as his little daughter's, and as 
 
42 
 
 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 she rose also, he took her hand, and walking quietly 
 through the young barley, he said : 
 
 " Maybe, I shall some day bring you a present 
 over from Llanddarog. Would you like it ? '' 
 
 " Is it a rabbit, father bach ? " asked she eagerly, 
 for she had heard of the rabbits of Llanddarog and 
 Penmon, *^ I should love to keep rabbits. Frees 
 Yaughan has such a many." 
 
 " No, it is something a great deal better than a 
 rabbit," said he, pleased with her eagerness. " But 
 I won't tell you what it is !" 
 
 He was very firm, he would not even give her a 
 hint, though she teased him sadly, determined, like 
 a spoilt child, to find it out ; but he was immoveable, 
 and she went to bed out of humour, because she 
 could not coax it out of him. 
 
 Simeon had now taken the most successful means 
 of keeping Llanddarog in his thoughts. If he were 
 absent half a day, counting his little flock on the hills, 
 or down at the blacksmith's about shoeing the mare, 
 or busying himself in any other occupation out of her 
 sight, no sooner did he make his appearance again 
 than she met him eagerly with the one question that 
 occupied her mind, '' Had he been to Llanddarog 
 to bring home the present for her ? and what was it ? " 
 
 About the middle of the week Aunt Silence Evans 
 came ; came to bring home the last work she had been 
 doing for him, whatever it might be, and to see if there 
 were anything within the homestead that required her 
 care. And no sooner was she come than Simeon, 
 perhaps afraid of being betrayed by his inquisitive 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 43 
 
 little daughter, or by the questions of his sister which 
 might thence arise, felt impelled to leave home. And 
 the fair at Caer-Seoint occurring that very week, he 
 set off thither, and Laura and all the little possessions 
 of Fridd-bach were left in charge of the faithful dog 
 Mingar, then in his youthful prime, and the good 
 Silence Evans. 
 
 Simeon made short work of his courtship. His 
 first visit as a wooer showed how much in earnest he 
 was. The visit was repeated, Susannah becoming 
 still more and more attractive in his eyes. On her 
 part she treated him very cavalierly. While he sat 
 on the bench within the broad chimney talking with 
 the old aunt, or on one of the ancient seats, old enough 
 to have [been worn by the old Benedictines under 
 the massive horse-chestnuts, talking with the uncle, 
 not about the monks, or the apostolic days of the 
 Chief-quire, but about his own affairs, and the 
 earliest time at which he could bring them to a close, 
 Susannah passed busily in and out, engaged in her 
 household work, or sat at her knitting, or stood at her 
 wheel, paying apparently very little attention to the 
 good man from over the water, whom she affected to 
 consider the visitor of her uncle and aunt, and whose 
 intentions regarding herself she ignored as long as 
 possible. 
 
 Simeon was willing to believe her reserve maid- 
 enly coyness, and instead of making love to her, he 
 sat and watched and admired her whilst she was 
 present, and in her absence advanced his suit with 
 the old people. Without apparently any immediate 
 
44 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 reference to Susannah, the thing was settled. Her 
 money, about which her relations made as much ado 
 as if it were some thousands, was counted out in his 
 presence, and Simeon quietly on his part satisfied 
 them that he could match it by four times its amount, 
 to say nothing of the freehold of Fridd-bach itself, 
 with its little barley-field and potato-ground, pasturage 
 on the mountain, and hay-land by the sea, a horse, a 
 couple of cows, some sheep, and his household goods. 
 Susannah therefore was not invited to a thriftless 
 home. Both John Jones and his wife were abun- 
 dantly contented, and more impatient even than 
 Simeon, to have the marriage over. But this latter 
 sentiment they kept from his knowledge. 
 
 The fact was, they had become acquainted with the 
 attention which the Englishman Nye was paying to 
 their niece, and fearing temptations from that quarter 
 which she might be unable to resist, advanced 
 Simeon's suit by all means in their power. On her 
 part, Susannah suspected the motives of her relatives ; 
 and now, playing a desperate game, armed herself with 
 more than her usual reserve and caution, resolved 
 either that Nye should marry her at once and thus 
 put an end to the old man's importunities, or that, in 
 mad desperation of her^fate, she would marry the old 
 man to be revenged on the young one, whom she 
 loved with all the reckless passion of a violent 
 though silent nature. 
 
 At length the day came, when, driven as by a re- 
 lentless fate, she took the plunge as for life and death, 
 and said she would marry Simeon, no one even sus- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 45 
 
 pecting tlie conflict of .'passion and disappointed love 
 that took place in her heart. Apparently there was 
 no outward difl^erence in her, excepting that her eye 
 might have a deeper fire in it, her cheek be more 
 pale, and her thin and delicately cut lips be more 
 firmly compressed. 
 
 '^ Why do you ask me to live at Fridd-bach ? " she 
 asked that day of Simeon, for the first time condescend- 
 ing to introduce the subject. " The sun never shines 
 there ; at Llanddarog it shines all the year round. " 
 
 " That you may be the sunshine of Fridd-bach," 
 returned Simeon. 
 
 *' It is a rich home at Fridd-bach, and stands in 
 good land," interposed her uncle, for the courtship 
 was carried on in the kitchen. 
 
 Susannah laughed one of her strange laughs, 
 which was like a wind shrieking through a sea cave. 
 Simeon felt grave and troubled as he had done 
 before when he had heard that laugh. It seemed to 
 him like a prognostic of evil. But he put the idea 
 away from him as an injustice, and loved her the 
 more because he thought he had wronged her. 
 
 On the day that Simeon and Susannah were 
 married Nye came to shoot rabbits at Penmon. He 
 asked as usual to have some refreshment at the game- 
 keeper's, but the old woman, who was exceedingly 
 annoyed at seeing him there on that occasion, refused 
 him even a chair to sit upon. The house was full of 
 guests, for it was a grand wedding, and the uncle, who, 
 like most of the Anglesey people, was connected 
 with smugglers, had broached for the occasion a keg 
 
46 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 of prime brandy, and this and cwrw-da, or good ale, 
 was circulating freely, with, plenty of roast mutton, 
 fowls, and bread and cheese. The fiddler was there 
 for the dancing, and the bard lola with his marriage 
 Englyns, so that there would be no end of observ- 
 ance and merriment, to say nothing of the money 
 which would be given for their entertainment as 
 an offering to the bridal pair. 
 
 Nye, whose dismissal from the house by the 
 hostess was approved by all, seeing he was only an 
 Englishman, seated himself, apparently undiscon- 
 certed, on one of the old seats under the chestnuts, 
 and watched the goings -forward in-doors. Susannah 
 laughed, as, looking out of the doorway, she saw him 
 seated there with his gun reared by his side, and desired 
 one of the young men to carry him out a large glass of 
 brandy and water in which to drink the bride's health. 
 In return, he sent with his thanks for the good cheer 
 and his good wishes for the bride, his offering, in the 
 empty glass as was customary. But this, instead of be- 
 ing silver, as was usual, was gold, a seven-shilling piece 
 with a hole through it, as if it might have been worn 
 as a token. This was shown to the bride, but though 
 she apparently took no notice, several of the guests 
 remarked a peculiar expression pass over her counte- 
 nance, which no one understood at the time, but 
 which was afterwards remembered as significant. 
 
 The marriage merry-making was in the mean time 
 going on lustily ; men were drinking, women laugh- 
 ing, and the Englyns of lola having been recited by 
 the bard, the fiddler was tuning up for the dancing. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 47 
 
 Simeon, whose character and religious views did 
 not sanction drinking and dancing even on the occa- 
 sion of his own wedding, was impatient to be off, 
 more especially from a consideration which has yet 
 to be mentioned. This marriage took place in Sep- 
 tember, when the tides were very low ; and towards 
 sunset, when the ebb tide was down, the new-married 
 couple, being rowed across the deeper channel which 
 flows by the shore, with a horse saddled and pillioned 
 in another boat, attended by as large a company as 
 the boats would contain, landed on the broad Lavan 
 Sands, and thus rode across in the yellow after-glow 
 of the sunset, and with the harvest moon, large as a 
 crimson shield, hanging above Pentar en-bach, the 
 Lesser Pentaren, whilst the church bell of Dol-y-mae- 
 nan was ringing, as was the old custom, to guide them 
 safely across, though indeed, as it was not dark, this 
 last ceremony was unnecessary. But it pleased the 
 Dol-y-maenan people, a considerable crowd of whom 
 were assembled on the shore, that thus their old 
 neighbour and his wife should be welcomed amongst 
 them. 
 
 The Englishman Nye watched them across from 
 a hill above Llanddarog. He stood with his gun 
 on his arm and his eye-glass to his eye to assist his 
 vision. Eye-glasses in those days were unusual, and 
 had the reputation of possessing some unholy power 
 of transformation, so that the use of them upon any 
 person was reckoned both an affront and a liberty. 
 The wedding guests who saw this resented it much, 
 and believed that some way or other it was evil. 
 
48 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The good Silence Evans did not wait at Eridd- 
 bach to welcome home the bride. She set the house 
 in order, churned and baked and boiled, filled the 
 cupboard shelf, which served as a larder, with pro- 
 visions ready for the eating, milked the cows that 
 afternoon, and left the milk ready for use, then 
 sorrowfully turned from the door, believing that the 
 good days at Fridd-bach were over, and that her 
 brother who had lived in peace and comfort with the 
 good Mary Jones was now bringing sorrow and re- 
 pentance into his house with this woman of South 
 Wales. 
 
 I am afraid that little Laura was disappointed 
 about her present from Llanddarog, and when she 
 saw her good aunt Silence crying, cried to keep her 
 company. Her father told her that the nice new 
 mother he was going to bring her from that pleasant 
 Llanddarog over the water was better than a rabbit, 
 better than all Frees Vaughan's rabbits put together ; 
 that this nice new mother would teach her to knit 
 and to spin and to make candles and to bake, and to 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 49 
 
 be a woman, in short ; whilst she herself would be like 
 sunshine in the dull cottage, and company for her 
 when he was out on the hills cutting turf or looking 
 after the sheep. Nevertheless, Laura was disap- 
 pointed, and now the ceremonious state of the house 
 looked strange to her. The handsome carved dresser, 
 the history of which in connection with her great- 
 uncle, the old soldier of Fontenoy, her aunt Silence 
 always told her, was rubbed up with more than or- 
 dinary care after every bit of crockery ware had been 
 taken down, " for," said Silence mournfully, " those 
 that come next won't set such store by it as we do ! '* 
 by which Laura understood that her new step-mother 
 was meant. Everything throughout the house was 
 cleaned and put orderly into its place again ; a little 
 heap of kindling wood was brought in and piled 
 upon the hearth, which made it look like Sunday, 
 though it was not Sunday ; a white muslin curtain 
 was hung half way up the little window, which made 
 the cottage still darker ; and all the rest of the pre- 
 parations for the new mistress of the house had in 
 them something so strange, if not unnatural, that 
 her young heart almost sunk within her. Her 
 home seemed hardly like her home ; and it was the 
 easiest thing in the world for her to cry. Yet she 
 had been very busy all day with her aunt ; and she 
 had seen all her own mother's clothes brought out, that 
 mother whom she could remember, and affection for 
 whom had been carefully kept alive by her father, 
 yet whose loss she had scarcely felt. She had now 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
50 THE COST OF caehgwyn. 
 
 again seen all her home-spun and home-made gar- 
 ments ; the blue and red linsey-woolseys ; the petti- 
 coats and gowns, the two warm woollen cloaks and 
 the whittle ; even now they were again aired in the 
 dry September sun, and the stockings were turned 
 to show the regularity of the knitting, and the pretty 
 clocks admired, each pair different, for Mary Jones 
 was famous for her skill in women's work. All these 
 her aunt told her were her own, and impressed upon 
 her memory carefully the exact numbers of every- 
 thing ; the gowns and the petticoats to match, and 
 everything nearly as good as new ; nothing moth- 
 eaten and nothing mildewed, such care had she taken 
 of them so far. But now ! yet perhaps the child in 
 future might have to look after them herself ! And 
 then she went over the numbers again, for as neither 
 Silence nor Laura could write, they must be learned 
 off by heart, never to be forgotten ! 
 
 All these things, aired and shaken and carefully 
 folded, were put by again before afternoon, and then 
 one and another acquaintance looked in, tempted up 
 from Dol-y-maenan by curiosity and the excitement 
 of the coming event, and little errands were devised 
 for Laura hither and thither out-of-doors, when 
 the good women wanted to talk together of such 
 things as they thought it best the child should not 
 hear. 
 
 When everything was in order and Silence was 
 back from milking, it was about five o'clock. She 
 and Laura then seated themselves in front of the 
 white-washed wall above the potato-field and looked 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 51 
 
 over to Llanddarog, whence at low-water they 
 would see the bridal pair set out for their home. 
 
 Silence had not much to say, and a strange awe 
 lay on the child's mind. They looked across the 
 water, which was now very low, the sands yellow 
 and bare almost to the swift current under the shore 
 of the island. Llanddarog, with its dark trees about 
 it, shone out white as it did on the Sunday evening 
 scarcely three months before, when Simeon promised 
 his little girl the so much- desired present. All was 
 as yet quiet on the shore, for the guests were now 
 in- doors regaling. Silence had come hither to see 
 them set out across the sands, for she made this to 
 herself the signal for her departure. 
 
 *' Is Susannah Morgan a nice woman ? Is she 
 as ni-ce as it looks at Llanddarosr ? " asked Laura. 
 
 o 
 
 " You must call her mother ^^ said Silence ; " she 
 is now your father's wife. He has given you a new 
 mother." 
 
 " Is she as nice as my own mother was ? " asked 
 she. 
 
 " I never saw her," returned Silence, '^ but Rich- 
 ard Rowlands' mother and Laura Jones and Gwen 
 Thomas have all seen her, and they say she is hand- 
 some and clever, and knows a great deal." 
 
 "But is she good?" demanded the little girl, 
 rather petulantly. 
 
 " It takes a great deal to make either a man or a 
 woman or a child good," diplomatized Silence ; " and 
 your father, who knows her best, thinks her good, or 
 he would not have married her." 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOfS 
 
52 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 This answer did not satisfy the child. She had 
 either heard something or suspected something 
 unfavourable to her step-mother, from having been 
 sent out of the way whilst her aunt and her neigh- 
 bours talked, and she said, 
 
 " If she is not kind to me I shall run away. I 
 shall come to you at Eo. I shall indeed ! '^ repeated 
 she, taking her aunt's hand and looking into her 
 face with her eyes swimming in tears. 
 
 '^ Laura fach," said her aunt, putting her arm 
 round her and drawing her tenderly to her side, 
 " you must not be disobedient to your new mother. 
 You love your father, and you must love her." 
 
 " I shan't love her ! " said the child, " I know I 
 shan't, and I wish Llanddarog were in the sea, that I 
 do ! " and leaning her head on her aunt's knee she 
 wept passionately. 
 
 Silence could never scold if she wished ever so 
 much. She therefore said nothing for some time, 
 and all the while was praying in her own simple 
 fashion that God, who had permitted this marriage, 
 would bring good out of it both for her brother and 
 his little girl, though she, in her poor blindness, 
 could not see how. 
 
 When she spoke again it was very cheerfully. 
 
 " And she will be my sister-in-law as well as 
 your step-mother, Laura, and we must remember that 
 she comes as a stranger amongst us. Don't you 
 remember in the blessed Gospel, the Lord Jesus 
 says, ' I was a stranger and ye took me in ? ' " 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 5S 
 
 " Yes," returned Laura, speaking from her te- 
 nacious child -memory, for this was one of the many- 
 chapters which she knew off by heart, " ' and naked, 
 and ye clothed me ; and sick and in prison, and ye 
 , visited me/ But then it was the blessed Lord Jesus 
 I -Christ himself, and not Susannah Morgan, who, as 
 Gr wen Thomas says, is from South "Wales." / 
 
 " Never mind old Gwen Thomas and what she 
 says, but go on with your chapter ! " 
 
 Laura went on verse by verse till she came to the 
 words, ' Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the 
 least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' 
 
 There the simple Christian woman stopped her, 
 and said : 
 
 '' All the duty, and obedience, and love, that 
 you show to your step-mother will be reckoned by 
 the Lord Jesus Christ as done unto Him. Remem- 
 ber that, Laura fach, and say your prayers, and 
 be a good girl and a comfort to your father ! And 
 if I don't come so often it won't be because I love 
 you less, or think less about you, but because I shall 
 not be wanted. And remember your own mother's 
 clothes, and let them be aired and laid out in the 
 sun and well shaken, at least once a year. They are 
 a good heritage, Laura anwyl, and all your own 
 blessed mother's knitting and spinning, and wove 
 under her own eye." And then she made her 
 repeat the inventory of everything. 
 
 Laura promised obedience and especial attention 
 to all these things, and lay the while with her head 
 
54 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 ill her aunt's lap. Presently her attention was 
 strongly arrested by another subject. 
 
 *' Look yonder at Llanddarog ! " said her aunt, 
 " are there not people on the shore ? '* 
 
 The child's keen vision shot like lightning 
 across the yellow sands, and she exclaimed, " O'r 
 anwyl, what a crowd ! And two boats ! Oh, aunt, 
 they are just like a swarm of bees ! " 
 
 The bell of Dol-y-maenan church now began to 
 ring, showing that down at the village they too were 
 aware of the fact. "With this Silence rose, but she did 
 not move from the spot for some time. She watched 
 the distant movement with intense interest, seeing it 
 all plainly. And now the boats were putting off 
 again, and Simeon and his new wife, on saddle and 
 pillion, were coming slowly over the wet sands, the 
 track of the horse left behind them, like points of 
 light, as the water oosed up at each tread, and 
 caught the brightness of the sky for a moment, then 
 dimmed out again into level sand. 
 
 AVhen they were half-way across. Silence, taking 
 the little girl by the hand, walked in-doors, put a few 
 peats on the fire, spread a clean cloth on the table, 
 set out the large loaf on a new dish, which she had 
 that day bought with some other crockery ware 
 from a travelling potter from Staffordshire, and which 
 were her small offering for the occasion, a piece of 
 cold meat, cheese, and butter, and mugs and jugs for 
 drinking, whether they chose fresh milk or cwrw-da 
 (strong ale). After this she slowly put on her high- 
 crowned black beaver hat over her linen cap, and her 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 55 
 
 long cloak, and taking up the little bundle containing 
 her few things, which she had already made ready 
 before-hand, kissed Laura, and without a word 
 walked quietly from the door. 
 
 Laura, who knew that a great crowd of Dol-y- 
 maenan people would be drawn to the shore to 
 receive her father and step-mother, had told her aunt 
 that she should go too. But this, not being in accord- 
 ance with the good woman's notions of propriety, 
 had been strictly forbidden by her. She must stop 
 at home and meet her father and step-mother in an 
 orderly and seemly manner. But Silence in enjoin- 
 ing this mode of conduct had not considered what a 
 serious imposition of duty it was. As she crossed 
 the threshold, herself ready to cry, Laura clung to 
 her, weeping so passionately, that Silence was obliged 
 to stay. 
 
 Simeon and his new wife must have been already 
 within sight of Bedd-Odo before Silence was really 
 out of the house, and she at last only made her 
 escape by taking the little girl a short distance with 
 her along the road at the back of Pentaren. By this 
 means, not a soul was in the house when the bride 
 arrived, and, to make the matter worse, the good dog 
 Mingar, though he recognized his master, barked 
 and wagged his tail to bid him welcome, yet growled 
 sullenly, held down his head, and walked angrily 
 away when he saw Susannah and heard her voice. 
 
 Simeon, who knew the shy ways of his sister, 
 excused her readily to his wife ; Laura too was shy, 
 and would be coming in presently. In the mean 
 
56 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 time the spread viands on tlie table, the fire and the 
 peats on the hearth, showed that a hearty welcome 
 had been prepared. 
 
 Simeon therefore and the new mistress of Fridd- 
 bach sat down to eat and drink, and the neighbours 
 who had followed them up from Dol-y-maenan did 
 the same, and in the midst of the crowd and the 
 noise little Laura stole in timidly, and was caught by 
 the arms by Grono Vaughan and placed between 
 his knees, for he too was there with his son Frees, at 
 whom and at her step -mother the little girl ventured 
 a glance, feeling her face the while so hot that her 
 very ears tingled. Grono, who had already drank 
 copiously of the good home-brewed ale, and who had 
 still a large mug of the same potent liquor before him, 
 pinched her cheeks, chucked her under the chin, 
 laughed, and said she should be Frees's wife. Frees, 
 who, only three years older than herself, had also been 
 drinking ale, looked very bold, and laughed and lifted 
 his mug and drank like agrown man. Foor little Laura! 
 bashful as she was, and with her heart so full of 
 parting from her aunt and all the strange things that 
 were happening around her, felt as if she hated the 
 boy Frees though he had the pretty rabbits, and 
 struggling to get away from his father and ready to 
 cry at the same time, was finally released by old 
 Gwen Thomas ; and her father then calling her to 
 him, she was kissed by her new step-mother, who 
 looked into her eyes afterwards, without speaking, 
 with the keenest gaze she had ever encountered in 
 her life. She felt frightened. And the next moment 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 57 
 
 seeing everybody engaged with eating and drinking 
 and talking, she stole away and sate down amongst 
 the peats on the hearth, where nobody could see her, 
 and propping her chin on her small hand, felt as if 
 lost in such a strange maze of wonderment that she 
 did not know where even to find herself. 
 
 By ten o'clock all company had departed, going 
 back in the moonlight and disturbing the silence of 
 the valley, in which the resonant cadence of the noisy 
 afon was the only customary voice, by their boister- 
 ous merriment, under the influence of the strong ale 
 of Fridd-bach. 
 
 So ended the wedding-day of Simeon Hughes 
 and Susannah Morgan. 
 
 The following day John Jones, the gamekeeper- 
 clerk of Llanddarog, brought and delivered over at 
 Fridd-bach the few possessions of his niece ; her 
 clothes and her money in the oak-chest, together with 
 the wedding offerings of the day before. She counted 
 out the money herself, which was then tied up in a 
 stocking foot and given to her husband to put into his 
 larger oak-chest with his savings; this chest, also 
 as a part of the ceremony, being brought out and 
 his money counted in Jones's presence four times the 
 amount of Susannah's, as he had stated. As regarded 
 a further hoard and in part an inheritance from his 
 own father, which lay in the false bottom of the 
 chest, in two somewhat mouldy stockings, Simeon 
 said nothing. This money was counted over now 
 and then when he had the house to himself; but 
 nobody surmised of its existence. The faithful 
 
58 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 Mary Jones never knew of it till she lay on her 
 death-bed, and Simeon was not yet sufficiently under 
 the influence of the new Delilah to entrust to her 
 this secret of his strength. 
 
 When this ceremony and the eating and drinking 
 with which Jones Llanddarog and a few of the 
 neighbours who again dropped in this day were 
 over^ things settled down at Fridd-bach in an ap- 
 2:)arently orderly manner, greatly to Simeon Hughes's 
 contentment. 
 
 Susannah was a woman of stronsc will and deter- 
 mined character, and what really were her motives 
 and her feelings with regard to her marriage nobody 
 knew but herself. Judging from early appearances, 
 nobody had any reason to suppose otherwise than 
 that they were those of a truly virtuous and single- 
 minded woman. It is probable, however, that 
 divining something of the general sentiment which 
 prevailed regarding her amongst her husband's 
 neighbours and acquaintance, and knowing too that 
 as a native of South Wales some natural prejudice 
 existed against her, as would have been the case in 
 her own Dynevour had a woman of Caernarvonshire 
 married there, she was determined to prove it false 
 and disappoint her ill-wishers, let their disfavour 
 towards her arise from whatever cause it might. 
 
 She settled herself down therefore in the sunless 
 Fridd-bach as a wife bent upon doing her duty ; 
 bustled about in her wooden shoes, indoctrinated 
 the little Laura, who came very soon to like her 
 rather than otherwise, and never thought of run- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 59 
 
 ning off to Ro, in all such household business as a 
 girl of her age could take part in ; kept her indus- 
 triously at her knitting ; carded and spun her wool, 
 either by herself or with her neighbours ; going out 
 with her work to their houses, and receiving and 
 entertaining them at hers when the turn came round 
 to Fridd-bach. All this was pleasant enough, not 
 only to Simeon but to his daughter, to whom the little 
 preparations for the social gatherings, the baking 
 of the slappen, or cake peculiar to Anglesea, thick 
 set with currants and swimming in butter, or the 
 bara-tleck or thin cake, in making of which she 
 equally excelled. Tea also of a very superior quality 
 she made for her guests with a little brandy in it, 
 for with her other possessions from Llanddarog 
 came a small chest of tea and a small keg of brandy, 
 both superb in quality, and both guiltless of paying 
 any duty. All this rendered the visits to Fridd-bach 
 very popular amongst the neighbours, and as far as 
 Laura was concerned made her home a great deal 
 more cheerful than in the old times, when there was 
 only the dog Mingar on the hearth besides her father 
 and herself from one month's end to another, and the 
 only change was when her aunt came to look after 
 them all three. Now, however, there was both going 
 out and coming in, and when her step-mother would 
 take her out also to the neighbours', that indeed was 
 an indulgence to be remembered, and well worth 
 earning by many weeks of industry and obedience. 
 
 I have said that as far as Laura was concerned 
 all this good living at home and visiting at home was 
 
60 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 very delightful, nor did Simeon make any objection, 
 though many things might seem to him to border on 
 extravagance and wastefulness. But Susannah was 
 not a woman to be turned aside from her own ways. 
 Her extreme reticence and her firmness and deter- 
 mination in carrying out all that she had once set her 
 mind on soon made her husband aware that he had 
 but little power when opposed to her. As yet, how- 
 ever, all went on smoothly; the new domestic life had 
 its pleasures. The first winter too was mild, there was 
 no pinching as regarded fuel or food ; and the wife 
 of Glanrafon and all the gossips of Dol-y-maenan took 
 so kindly to Susannah, that it would have required 
 a harder and more morose nature than that of Simeon 
 to put a stop to the new current of domestic events. 
 
 One circumstance, however, must be mentioned 
 as belonging to this first winter, though it exhibits 
 poor Simeon in a less amiable character. It will 
 be remembered that Mingar growled when Su- 
 sannah first came ; but then she was a stranger, and 
 the dog had been encouraged to show disappro- 
 bation of strangers coming to the house, therefore it 
 ■was believed that a day or two would reconcile him to 
 her. But this was not the case. The creature, 
 though naturally the most afiectionate of his kind, 
 showed no inclination to be friends with her, but 
 invariably, either not daring to growl, or doing so 
 in an undertone, walked out of the house, if he 
 could make his escape, or slunk in ill-humour under 
 the dresser, whenever she came to the hearth, which 
 had been his accustomed couch. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 61 
 
 " AVhat is the reason Mingar is so cross with, 
 mother ? " asked Laura from her father about a week 
 after the new inmate had come ; " I suppose he does 
 not like her ? " 
 
 Simeon kicked the dog out of the house from 
 under the dresser, and from that day began a system 
 of severity towards the poor animal whose instincts 
 were a law which he could not disobey. Susannah 
 never interfered, and Mingar from that time lived in 
 the cow-house, banished from the warm hearth which 
 he loved, and from human society, which he loved still 
 better. Yet still true to that instinctive sense which 
 had revealed to him in Susannah a nature adverse 
 to the spirit of his home, he never would be recon- 
 ciled to her, and though he ceased to growl he looked 
 askance at her with anything but favour, and Simeon 
 continued his severity towards him, never giving him 
 a kind word or fondling him as he used to do. 
 
 This was a great trouble to little Laura, who 
 never lost an opportunity of caressing the faithful 
 servant and friend of the house, or of carrying out 
 to him a portion of her own meal when she feared 
 that the dog was going short. Susannah herself 
 never took the slightest notice of the creature. She 
 had in the first instance, it is true, endeavoured to 
 win his good-will, but not succeeding, she never in- 
 terfered to save him from the severity of his master,, 
 or, as months went on, to soften his heart towards 
 him. And he, under the influence of her silence, 
 never caressed or commended him, and visited any 
 little apparent neglect with the sheep, or otherwise,. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 with almost cruel severity. Yet through all this it 
 was really affecting to see the increase of dutiful affec- 
 tion in the poor animal, and his anxiety to perform all 
 the service which naturally fell to him with obedience 
 and devotion. Many a time when tired and foot- 
 sore with a hard day's work, he would lie near his 
 master, not asleep, but with his eyes fixed upon him, 
 and a yearning, longing expression in his almost 
 human countenance, as if he would say, ^' Is there no 
 pardon for me, who in offending you only followed an 
 instinct which warned me of danger towards you ? " 
 
 No ; the dog was not forgiven, and Susannah 
 reigned for the present Queen of Fridd-bach. All 
 her neighbours liked her rather than otherwise, 
 though she was so dissimilar to themselves, so impe- 
 netrable, and occasionally so wayward and uncertain 
 in her moods. At times, however, spite of her reserve, 
 she was cheerful, nay, even merry, though that 
 strange, wild laugh of hers was something different 
 to mirth, and none of the women liked it. 
 
 " It comes farther off than South Wales ! " said 
 Gwen Thomas,Avho was reckoned a very deep woman, 
 '^ though a South Walesian is never to be trusted." 
 
 Nevertheless Susannah had brought a new ele- 
 ment into the little Dol-y-maenan life, and who un- 
 der such circumstances would not be forgiven some 
 faults ? The men, it was observed, always now stayed 
 at home as the knitting and spinning evenings came 
 round to their respective firesides, for if Susannah 
 were in the mood, endless were the stories she would 
 tell, and tell too with a life and originality which was 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 63 
 
 peculiar to herself, and which astonished and fascinat- 
 ed her hearers. But she was not always in the mood, 
 and then they might as well try to move Pentareji 
 as move her. Her singing, too, enchained and fascin- 
 ated every one even more than her stories, for the 
 Welsh understand and feel music very deeply, and 
 Susannah's singing was of a rare character. But she 
 was wayward with regard to it as to everything else ; 
 yet frequently, though she would not be induced to 
 commence the entertainment or to strike up alone, 
 when, as was frequent at the fireside gatherings, the 
 women began to sing in chorus, her exquisite voice 
 would presently be heard joining in, and then in- 
 variably one and another dropped out of the little 
 choir, till she alone was left to sustain the whole 
 burden of the melody, when, as if triumphing in 
 her supremacy, she gave her voice full sway, glory- 
 ing in the magic power which she exercised over all. 
 But nothing could induce her to sing in church, 
 even though the churchwarden and the rector, to 
 whom the fame of her singing had come, did their 
 utmost for this purpose, and indeed she soon left off 
 going to church altogether. 
 
 In the Christmas week, the evening gathering 
 ^vas to be at Glanrafon, and little Laura was to ac- 
 company her father and step-mother. It was to be 
 a great evening, not only because Christinas was the 
 natural season of festivity, but because Mrs Vaughan 
 was bent upon surpassing any entertainment which 
 had yet been given at Fridd-bach. 
 
 Lisabeth Vaughan was reckoned a proud woman. 
 
64 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 she did not habitually associate on familiar terms with 
 her neighbours. She came from near Lake Bala, and 
 "S]j;hilst in her youth she might have been taken as a 
 sample of the fair women of Merionethshire, which 
 is famed for the beauty of its daughters, she prided 
 herself still more on her descent from the great Rys 
 ap Jenkins, the friend of Owen Glendour ; nor in 
 marrying a Vaughan, though he only possessed the 
 poor homestead of Glanrafon, had she demeaned her- 
 self, for Grono on his side derived his lineage from the 
 noblest Vaughans of North Wales, the original an- 
 cestor of whom was Roderick Mawr, or the Great 
 Roderick himself, who again traced his descent up 
 to Brutus, grandson of Eneas. The Vaughans of 
 Glanrafon had some reason, therefore, to hold their 
 heads high, and of late years, since the re-opening of 
 the old quarry, Grono had found himself strangely 
 coming into possession of more ready money than he 
 could ever hope to gain by farming the poor acres 
 of Glanrafon. But the source of this money-making 
 must be explained. 
 
 Mr Rutherford, the proprietor of the quarry, did 
 not himself understand the Welsh language, and all 
 the men employed in the work, with the exception 
 of the overseer, and all the country people round, 
 spoke no other ; being therefore of a very social dis- 
 position, he was much pleased whenever he met with 
 a Welshman who spoke both languages. ' Grono 
 Vaughan had fortunately learned some little English 
 in his youth, and had managed to keep it up by con- 
 versing with drovers and horse-dealers who came into 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 65 
 
 the neighbourhood in their traffic for hogs and po- 
 nies. Mr Rutherford, therefore, noticed Grono with 
 great favour. He was always glad to see him on the 
 road, greeted him kindly, and would stand for an 
 hour conversing with him. In this manner he soon 
 began to take an interest in the man, and there being 
 at that time no tram-ways from the quarries, he em- 
 ployed him to bring down the quarried stone from 
 the mountain by horses, and this proved a very lucra- 
 tive employment. 
 
 The Welsh, who have never lost their dislike and 
 jealousy of the English from the times of the subju- 
 gation of their country, regard even at the present 
 day the English settlers amongst them as invaders 
 more dangerous perhaps than the former, because they 
 come in a more insidious manner, armed with money 
 instead of swords, and possessing themselves of the 
 land, occupy for one family an extent which has 
 been for ages the patrimony of many. Fifty or sixty 
 years ago, the time of which we are writing, this 
 dislike and jealousy were still more strong ; therefore 
 Mr Rutherford, though he opened a source of con- 
 stant bread-winning to the neighbourhood, was re- 
 garded with no good-will, whilst Grono himself dis- 
 pleased many by appearing as his partisan. But time 
 went on, and time sets many things to rights, and Grono 
 as churchwarden obtained money from the English- 
 man for the repair of the church; besides which, he in 
 his turn was able to employ his neighbours under him 
 in the Englishman's work, and as people seldom quar^ 
 
 VOL. I. 5 
 
66 ' THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 rel in the end with that which brings in money, every- 
 body seemed well satisfied with things as they were. 
 
 Grono's horses brought the quarried stone down 
 to the shore, where it was shipped for England. And 
 as years went on and he began to feel that he was 
 somewhat of a moneyed man, a new aim of ambition 
 opened within him, which bade fair to rival the pride 
 of his descent from the great E-oderick. 
 
 But now the Christmas entertainment was at hand, 
 and those who had the honour of the Vaughans' ac- 
 quaintance were to meet for a great evening at Glan- 
 rafon, where the kitchen was large, and consequently 
 where a numerous company would assemble, and 
 where Lisabeth was bent upon an entertainment which 
 should cast into the shade all the display made by the 
 incomprehensible Susannah at poor little Fridd-bach. 
 
 It was a fine Christmas, and although all the moun- 
 tains, as far as the eye could see, were covered with 
 snow, no snow as yet had fallen on the lowlands or 
 on the land by the sea, and the herbage, though too 
 bare for grazing, still looked green, and the cattle and 
 sheep which were brought down to the homesteads for 
 the winter were still turned out for a few hours in 
 the day. Simeon Hughes and his old neighbours 
 could hardly remember such a fine winter, and, as usual 
 in such cases, prognosticated that the severe weather 
 would come in the spring, and whatever cold and 
 suffering was minus now would be added with rigour 
 in the early year, when it would be felt with ten- 
 fold bitterness. These good "Welsh peasants could no 
 more than the wiser people of the present day receive 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 67 
 
 ] SL full-handed blessing without suspecting that it must 
 i be accompanied by a curse. So few people will give 
 I God credit for being altogether good. They think He 
 i must be a grudging giver because they are so them- 
 ; selves. 
 
 It was a blessing also to poor Mingar that the 
 winter was so mild, for driven from the warm hearth 
 where he had formerly bedded himself on the turf- 
 heap in the corner, the dried fern that furnished the 
 cow's bed was also his^ but the cow-house was cold 
 after the cottage hearth, and had the winter been as 
 severe as usual, he must have suffered much. 
 
 But to return to the Thursday of the Christ- 
 mas week, on the afternoon of which day Fridd-bach 
 would be left to Mingar's care, and Simeon, his little 
 daughter, and her step-mother were to meet with 
 their neighbours at Glanrafon. 
 
 A large fire burned on the hearth of the spacious 
 kitchen ; the great chimney-corners with their dark 
 oak settles looked cosily warm, and Mrs Vaughan 
 received her guests, who arrived by three o'clock, very 
 graciously. There was not only the odour of good 
 things preparing in the little side-kitchen, where 
 Gwen Thomas in her clean checked apron was at 
 work, but already a goodly show of viands was set out 
 on the table of the large kitchen itself. The women, 
 about a dozen of them, sat down to their knitting and 
 spinning, and the children, amongst whom was our 
 Laura, were taken out by the girls of the house, Me- 
 gan, or Margaret, and her younger sister Nesta, about 
 Laura's age, and their brother Frees, to look at the 
 
68 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 rabbits, and otherwise amuse themselves before it got 
 dark. The generality of the men would come in later. 
 
 Grono V'aughan only arrived when all were 
 gathered for tea, and when Simeon Hughes, and some 
 other of the men who adhered to old-fashioned habits, 
 had been knitting for half an hour. Grono was a tall 
 man with a stoop in the shoulders, sallow-com- 
 plexioned, with black hair and eyes. To a stranger's 
 eye there might be a something sinister in his look ; 
 w^hether it were that you could rarely fix his eye, or 
 that the stoop with which he bore his head and shoul- 
 ders gave a sordid air to his appearance, or whether it 
 were the effect of some other and more subtle trait, I 
 cannot say, but so it was. With most it was merely 
 a first impression, and wore off as the man Avas better 
 known. This was so entirely the effect with Mr 
 E-utherford that he had now quite forgotten it, if it 
 ever had existed, and with him and with all his neigh- 
 bours Grono had as good a reputation as he could 
 desire. He was a man who not only made money 
 himself but who enabled others to make it, and if that 
 will not give a man a good reputation I know not 
 what will. 
 
 Grono was a welcome sight to his wife's guests, 
 for all w^ere aware that he was bringing news with 
 him. He had been that day to attend the funeral of 
 Mrs E-utherford as one of the pall-bearers, and the 
 first thing he did on entering the kitchen was to lay 
 the handsome black silk scarf and hat-band and his 
 pair of black gloves on the table, all of which were 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 69 
 
 immediately taken up and admired and wondered over 
 as tliey passed from hand to hand. 
 
 Grono seated himself in a cii'cular-backed chair, 
 a smoking chair as it was called, and which was his 
 peculiar seat on the domestic hearth, and gave himself 
 up to be communicative and agreeable. 
 
 " 'Deed to goodness ! " said he in answer to 
 a question on the subject, "it has been a very 
 grand funeral, as grand as the Bishop of Bangor's 
 ladv." 
 
 " Had Jones Conway the job ? " asked Simeon. 
 
 " Jones Conway ! " returned Grono, with the 
 contempt which would have been worthy of a Sassa- 
 nach, *^ I should think not ; it was an undertaker of 
 Chester, an Englishman, and everything was in English 
 fashion. The pall was black velvet, there were eight 
 pall-bearers and four horses, and plumes to the hearse, 
 and she was laid in the new family vault which Mr 
 Rutherford made when Mrs Rambouillet died." 
 
 Grono had many questions to answer. 
 
 Yes, the Dol-y-maenan rector, the Rev. Edward 
 Edwards, was there, but the clergyman of Tanrallt- 
 vawr read the service. All the people in Mr Ruther- 
 ford's employment were invited and followed, and 
 there was cold meat and ale for everybody ; and hot 
 coffee and wine for the gentlemen before they went to 
 church, and burial cake without end. And at these 
 words Grono produced from his pocket the black 
 sealed packet of burial cake with which he, like all 
 the others, was presented as they departed, and gloves 
 
<U THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 also for the wives, long gloves of black cliamois 
 leather, as were those for Mrs Vaughan. 
 
 They all agreed that it was very handsome, quali- 
 fying the opinion, however, by the observation that 
 the English loved show. 
 
 *^ They can afford it," said Grono, as the champion 
 of the English, ^' and Mr Rutherford, whom I know 
 perhaps better than most, has always been used to 
 things handsome. He is not one of your jack-in-the- 
 box gentry, and his lady had a good fortune, as he 
 has told me many a time. ^ Mr Vaughan,' says he, 
 ' she'd a good fortune ; her father and mine were con- 
 nected in trade, and she was a delicate woman.' I've 
 heard him say, times without end, that he should never 
 have known anything of Wales but for bringing her 
 to Flint to use the waters there. It was at Flint that 
 he met with Mr Richard Davis who turned his mind 
 to the quarry. You remember Richard Davis, Gwen 
 Thomas," said Grono, turning to her, " he lost his 
 sight and went up to London to consult the eye- 
 doctors, and died just as he came back, just as the 
 carriage was driving down Sychnant, almost within 
 view of his own door, he died." 
 
 " Yes, sure ! I remember him, poor gentleman," 
 said Gwen, who, now that cooking operations were 
 over and tea in progress, had taken her seat amongst 
 the guests, " who should remember him better than 
 I who was sent for to lay him out ? That was the 
 first corpse I ever laid out, and old Catherine 
 Williams never forgave me for it. But people liked 
 my way better than hers, and it took prodigiously. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. * 71 
 
 You see I study to make the corpse look handsome, 
 and that's what the relations naturally like, especially 
 if it's young and good-looking, and when Mrs Ram- 
 bouillet died, but that was twenty years afterwards, 
 for Mr Rutherford, her father, had been ten years 
 at Birllan-deg when she came, Mrs Rutherford says, 
 with tears in her eyes, ^ Put some of your pink and 
 white roses in the coffin,' says she, * and make my 
 darling look beautiful ;' and after all was over, no- 
 thing would do but I must show her how I made my 
 flowers, and it is not everybody I would show ! 'Deed, 
 she was a beautiful lady, both she and her mother, 
 whom they have this day buried ! And says Mrs 
 Rutherford to me — for I learned some Ensrlish when 
 I lived servant in Shrewsbury, and it's a nice language 
 to speak when you're master of it— says she, ^ It's a 
 great sorrow to me, this, Gwen, I can tell you, for 
 there were not many daughters like this one of 
 mine that is gone ; so you'll put some of your 
 pink and white roses in the coffin, and make her 
 look beautiful.' I shall never foro:et that as lon£: 
 as I live," said Gwen emphatically ; " you see, she 
 was the youngest daughter and the favourite, I 
 take it, for the eldest, Mrs Wichelo, who married a 
 great gentleman up in the north — " 
 
 " Thank you, Gwen, for your hint," said Grono, 
 interrupting her, for he was impatient of her long 
 story, *^ Mr Wichelo of Wyke, the gentleman she 
 married, was amongst the family mourners at the 
 funeral this morning, in a long black cloak and hat- 
 band like the others. But on my word ! I wouldn't 
 
iZ THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 give much for his life, he looks a walking atomy ; 
 and his second son, they told me, was with him ; he 
 is bringing up for the church, a tall sneaking sort of 
 young chap, maybe as old as Godfrey." 
 
 Godfrey was Mr Kutherford's only son, many 
 years younger than his sisters, and Grono spoke of 
 him thus familiarly to prove the intimate terms 
 on which he stood with the family, and at the 
 mention of his name several asked if he were at the 
 funeral. 
 
 '' Yes indeed, he was there," returned he, and 
 knowing the general interest that was felt regarding 
 this youth, who was intended by his father to be edu- 
 cated especially for the management of the quarry, 
 Grono settled himself in his chair, as for a long talk, 
 *•' but I can't say that I much favour Godfrey. He 
 is but young, it's true, but you may know by the 
 foal what the horse will be, and he has all the in- 
 grained pride and conceit of an Englishman. He's 
 as different to his father as black and white. God- 
 frey and I shall never get on well together." 
 
 " But he is not coming yet awhile, is he ? " asked 
 Simeon Hughes. 
 
 " No, his father tells me," returned Grono, " that 
 Godfrey, in addition to all his school-learning, is to 
 travel, and look about him, and see what^they're do- 
 ing in other countries, as to mining and quarrying. 
 And much good may it do him ! It is not the great 
 mining, speculating men that make the money, as I've 
 told Mr Rutherford ; ' but,' says he, ' Godfrey has 
 solid judgment, a wonderful head for business, has 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 73 
 
 he, and I mean to give him six or seven years of it 
 yet, and when he comes back, you'll see how he'll 
 beat us all hollow.' " 
 
 " I should think a deal more of a man that hears 
 the knockers at work in the mines," interrupted Jones 
 Griffiths, the old miller ; *^ that's the true way to get 
 at the knowledge of mines ; that beats school-learn- 
 ing hollow, and not ask pardon of Mr E-utherford, or 
 any other Englishman ! Once hear the knockers and 
 you're sure of your mine." 
 
 " Mr Rutherford laughs at such things," said 
 Grono ; " you see the knockers won't knock for the 
 English, and that makes the difference." 
 
 " My father," said Gwen Thomas, " heard the 
 knockers, before they begun to work the Esgair y 
 Mwyn mine. Every night, as sure as he opened his 
 door, he heard them busy." 
 
 " Best of Goodness ! an Englishman wouldn't 
 believe it," observed the miller. 
 
 " They won't knock for them, that's the thing," 
 said Grono. " No, Godfrey may get his big head 
 cram-full of learning, but he can't work a "Welsh mine 
 with that. That's what I tell his father." 
 
 " Well, now we're talking of the Birllan-deg 
 folks," said the Wern-y-pandy weaver, who had 
 come in during the evening, and joined the circle, 
 *' what is your mind upon the queer story that Mr 
 Rutherford told when first he came, about being 
 thrown over Pentaren-bach ? " 
 
 Susannah, who had heard something of this in 
 Anglesea, turned to Grono and said, " Yes, indeed. 
 
T4 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 Grono, I should like to hear about that ; for my 
 uncle Llanddarog never had patience to hear it spoken 
 of. He said it was a story the Englishman made up 
 himself to show his consequence." 
 
 " Indeed^ this it is," said Grono, " some people 
 don't put much faith in it ; and I have never made 
 up my mind about it myself, so I cannot say how it 
 was, but there's some foundation of truth in it, I am 
 inclined to think, because Mr Rutherford is a man of 
 honour." 
 
 '^ Well, how was it then ? " asked she. 
 
 "Why, you see, Susannah," returned Grono, 
 '^ Mr Eutherford was always fond of walking ; he 
 used to go after plants and stones. I've known 
 him walk twenty miles after a bit of moss without a 
 leaf on it ! Well, he was coming home one dark 
 Saturday night in February, when the weather had 
 turned stormy, and the wind was high. Right over 
 the top of Pentaren-bach he came, which is a nasty 
 place, when there's any wind, following a little path 
 along a ledge on the face of the rock, with the rock 
 rising like a wall above, and nothing to hold by, and 
 a sheer precipice below. Everybody knows the spot 
 well enough." 
 
 " Ay, sure ! " " Yes, indeed ! " acquiesced several, 
 and Grono proceeded : 
 
 " It was a queer place to be walking along at 
 night, for any one, especially, that was not used to the 
 country. And just as he gets there, in the pitch 
 darkness, he comes face to face with a man. He 
 shouts to him in English, and the man shouts to him 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 75 
 
 in Welsh, and neither understands what the other 
 says. He declared that the man sprang at his throat;, 
 and tried to throttle him." 
 
 " He was tipsy himself ! " interrupted Mrs Yau- 
 ghan, " I always said so, and always shall say so. 
 Besides, it was Saturday night ! " 
 
 '^ How like a fool you talk, Lisabeth ! " exclaimed 
 her husband contemptuously, " what was Saturday 
 night to him ? He could have ale or wine enough 
 whenever he wanted it ! Besides, he was not a man 
 given to liquor ; never was, and never will be ! He 
 was sober ; the man might be drunk if you will ! 
 However, they went at it, and a desperate struggle 
 they had, and over the rock he was pitched. And 
 that's the wonderful part of it to me, that he was not 
 killed." 
 
 " I don't believe he ever was pitched over the 
 rock," interrupted the Wern-y-pandy weaver, ^' and 
 it doesn't stand to reason. Nobody could be pitched 
 over there and not be killed ! Why, there was 
 nothing but a young sapling, that a child might have 
 pulled up, to save him ! " 
 
 ^^ There's something queer about it somewhere," 
 said Grono ; '' and you see, Susannah," continued he, 
 again addressing her, " there was nobody to give any 
 account of it but himself. There was a fight, no doubt, 
 with somebody, for all the country went up next day, 
 and for days afterwards, to see the spot. There were 
 no foot-prints, because it was hard rocks, but the 
 very rock itself was broken in many places. And 
 thanks were given in the church after service that he 
 
76 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 was not killed. On Monday he had all his people 
 sent for, and told them he knew it was one of them, 
 and that he could lay his hand on the man that did it, 
 but he forgave him, and he wouldn't say which of 
 them it was." 
 
 " That was the thing," said the old miller, " that 
 offended everybody." 
 
 ^' Never would say which of them it was," re- 
 peated Grono ; " said he forgave his intended mur- 
 derer, but wouldn't name him ; said he left him to the 
 punishment of God, and of his own conscience ! But 
 that wouldn't do ! They said, and they say to this 
 day, ^ If he knows the guilty man, let him point him 
 out, and not leave the charge to rest against every one 
 of us ! ' " 
 
 " And very right, too," remarked Simeon Hughes. 
 ^^ It was his English way of being superior to us 
 Welsh, but it turned many against him.'' 
 
 *' Yes," said Grono. " The charge was left on the 
 innocent, as long as he would not point out the guilty, 
 and many gave up his employment in consequence ; 
 he did not make many friends by it." 
 
 " Most of the men are living to this day," said 
 Simeon, " but nobody supposes any of them to have 
 been guilty." 
 
 *^ There was a tramping Irishman that used to 
 come about," said Jones Griffiths, ^^ many thought it 
 was he, because he was never seen in these parts 
 afterwards." 
 
 " And some said it was that man at Pwlhelli, 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 7T 
 
 who was suspected of that barn murder ; what was his 
 name ? " remarked Lisabeth. 
 
 " Rees Thomas/' replied her husband. '' Why, 
 yes, some thought he might have a hand in it, but 
 not likely, and he off to America at that time ! '^ 
 
 " To my thinking," said the weaver, " he never 
 was meant to be hurt at all. They two met in the dark ; 
 the Welshman spoke civil Cymraeg, but the English- 
 man could not understand him, and so got into a pas- 
 sion. There was nobody to tell the story but himself, 
 and this was a fine opportunity to make a great show 
 of his forbearance and forgiveness. An Englishman 
 always takes care of himself, and comes off with flying 
 colours." 
 
 Most of the company were of the weaver's opinion, 
 and whatever might be the merits of the case, or the 
 motive for Mr Rutherford's conduct in this affair, he 
 apparently won but little credit amongst his neigh- 
 bours, either for his courage or clemency. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The mildness of the winter continued, and the 
 €arly spring brought with it neither excessive frost 
 nor snow. The weather prognosticators were out of 
 their reckoning. No bad weather had put a stop to 
 the quarry works, and by the middle of March the 
 snow was gone from every mountain-top, excepting 
 Cader Caradoc. There was no pinching, no suffer- 
 ing that winter, either for man or beast; nevertheless 
 an indefinite cloud and anxiety was beginning to 
 settle upon Fridd-bach. 
 
 The first tangible shape which this domestic trou- 
 ble took was in June, which was a glorious month, 
 the crown, as it were, of the young summer. 
 
 The second little cow having calved a few weeks 
 before, and being now in full milk, Simeon took her 
 one morning to the upper pastures, where the village 
 cows, early as it was, were already driven out. On 
 his return, when busy cleaning the cow-house, and 
 new-bedding the calf with dried fern, the loud, angry 
 barking of Mingar drew his attention to the house 
 door, where he perceived a stranger, whom he sup- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 79 
 
 posed to be a pedlar, conversing with Susannali. 
 Small dealers of this class were very common through- 
 out the country, carrying wares of various kinds, 
 Manchester cottons, and Sheffield or Birmingham 
 goods, in packs or boxes strapped to their shoulders, 
 or Staffordshire pottery and such heavier wares on 
 mules or in light carts. Kegular sets of these travel- 
 ling merchants, or chapmen, made their rounds at 
 stated periods through the northern Welsh coun- 
 ties, as indeed was common everywhere, wherever 
 large towns were thinly scattered, and were welcome 
 visitors in every hamlet and remote homestead, 
 carrying with them not only goods but news ; know- 
 ing every family, high or low, on their rounds, and 
 acting in those simple, slow days as the newspaper 
 or electric telegraph of the present time. 
 
 This pedlar, be he who he might, Avas a stranger 
 to Simeon. He was a tall, black-haired man, whose 
 short crisp locks Simeon could see under his hat- 
 brim, though his face was not visible. As there 
 was, however, nothing either remarkable or suspicious 
 in this circumstance, how happened it that Simeon 
 disturbed himself about this visitor beyond any other ? 
 But many are the presentiments and previsions which 
 come to disturb the summer-day calm of our lives, 
 come, we know not how or whence, incomprehen- 
 sible as our life itself, till some after- event solves the 
 mystery, and we then know of a truth that there 
 is a divine gift of prescience within us ; that the 
 guardian angel of our life often utters a warning cry 
 
80 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 to our souls which^ if we do not attend to, will leave 
 us stumbling in darkness to the end. 
 
 Again and again Simeon looked out of the cow- 
 house, disturbed like the dog by the presence of the 
 stranger ; then went in again and prolonged his em- 
 ployment ; and the dog, which had been silent whilst 
 his master looked forth, again began his angry 
 protest. 
 
 Presently, however, his work being finished, and 
 the man nowhere in sight, Simeon, feeling well 
 satisfied, walked in-doors, when, to his startled sur- 
 prise, he found him standing within the wooden 
 screen, which is usually placed in Welsh cottages to 
 keep the draught of the door from the hearth. Here 
 he stood in deep but low conversation with Susannah, 
 the sound of which Simeon knew to be English, and 
 the moment he entered, slipped a something into his 
 waistcoat pocket, which, to Simeon's eye, appeared 
 like a small gold coin. They two were alone, and 
 there was neither pack, nor box, nor goods of any 
 kind visible, but Susannah, whose usual demeanour 
 was calm and collected, looked pale and agitated. 
 Not a word passed further between her and the 
 stranger, who, the moment he saw Simeon, making a 
 move to depart, said in the manner of pedlars 
 generally, and speaking as much to the husband as 
 the wife, that "he would take the liberty of looking 
 in when next he came that way." 
 
 Often and painfully as Simeon had felt that, spite 
 of his aflfection for Susannah, and the comfort with 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 81 
 
 which he endeavoured to surround her, a great gulf 
 separated them, yet never had he been more con- 
 scious of it than now. He had come upon her unex- 
 pectedly, and found her pale and agitated, yet the 
 very next moment, when she was alone with him, her 
 countenance assumed that hard, impenetrable, ada- 
 mantine expression, from which any explanation or 
 concession was no more to be looked for than from 
 the rock of Pentaren itself. 
 
 " Who was that man, and what did he want ? " 
 asked Simeon, in a tone which betrayed something 
 of the annoyance he felt. 
 
 " An acquaintance from Anglesea," returned she, 
 now going about her household work as usual, but 
 with the same double-barred and bolted expression 
 of countenance. 
 
 " And what was he doing here ? " 
 
 " He sells eye-salve," she replied, with one of 
 her dreary laughs. 
 
 " And what was that money he had in his hand, 
 either half a guinea or a seven-shilling piece ? " 
 
 Susannah was just hanging the large pot on 
 the iron hook over the fire, but missing it, the pot 
 slipped on the embers, and she uttered an expression 
 of impatience. 
 
 Simeon repeated his question. 
 
 The pot being properly adjusted, Susannah re- 
 plied that the man sold golden ointment, something 
 very good for the sight. She supposed he might rub 
 people's eyes with the gold. But she did not want 
 eye-salve ; she could see very well without it. 
 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
S2 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 The explanation was reasonable enough ; and 
 Simeon, remembering that his first wife, the good 
 Mary Jones, used to stroke the weak eyes of chil- 
 dren with her gold wedding-ring as a means of 
 strengthening them, if now not quite satisfied, yet 
 felt that no more was to be said. Nevertheless, being 
 that afternoon in Dol-y-maenan, he inquired if the 
 dealer in eye-salve had been seen by any of his 
 neighbours. Several had seen the man, but he could 
 not discover that in any instance he had vended or 
 ofiered his goods for sale. 
 
 Simeon betrayed neither himself nor his wife in 
 this matter, and though he had gained no satisfaction 
 from his inquiries, yet he returned home rather in- 
 clined to blame himself for jealous suspicion than to 
 believe her guilty, and he determined, as he had 
 done times without end, to win the way to her con- 
 fidence by greater kindness than he had yet shown 
 her. But this was an impossible task. 
 
 As summer wore on, her strange apparent abstrac- 
 tion and her frequent waywardness of temper were 
 noticeable to all her neighbours, but as the evening 
 gatherings were discontinued now that the daylight was 
 longer, and out-of-doors work made a greater demand 
 on their time, they met but seldom ; nevertheless, all 
 were aware that the peculiar something in the wife of 
 Fridd-bach, which made her so unlike other women, 
 was becoming still more noticeable in her. She 
 had not now been to church for months, and though 
 nobody could persuade her to sirtg, her laugh was 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 83 
 
 often as wild and startling as if a derisive and reck- 
 less fiend were laughing through her. 
 
 Her neighbours all said she would be right again 
 when her child was born. Simeon quite believed so. 
 It was a great consolation to him ; and if he had not 
 much comfort in his marriage just now, he, at all 
 events, had the satisfaction of seeing his wife working 
 industriously w4th her needle for the little one which 
 was expected in the autumn. 
 
 The sheep-washing and shearing were over ; and 
 though Silence Evans had never yet been to Fridd- 
 bach, Simeon had taken his little girl to see her aunt, 
 with whom she had stayed a month. She had wan- 
 dered with the neighbours' children to Llangelynin 
 church, and played in the old church-yard, and been 
 out with them bilberry-gathering on Moel Llys, or the 
 Bilberry Hill, which lying more adjacent to Pentaren, 
 brought her near her own home again, without 
 tempting her thither, for she now liked being at Ro 
 better than at Fridd-bach. 
 
 And thus the summer came to an end, and stormy 
 weather, after the long beautiful season, set in, be- 
 fore the little hay-crop was finished, and continued 
 on, wild and melancholy, till late in the year. 
 
 The sun had not shone for many days, when 
 Susannah took it into her head to go over to Llan- 
 ddarog. She said she could not bear the want of sun- 
 shine ; she must go over into Anglesea to enjoy it 
 there. Simeon thought it was like madness ; but it 
 was no use his trying to dissuade her. She would 
 
84 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 not even wait till the Glanrafon people could lend 
 their cart for him to drive her over to Bangor, 
 where, crossing the ferry, she might be met by her 
 uncle. She would listen to no reason, but at high*- 
 water set off with the fisherman of Tanrallt, in his 
 boat, without her husband's knowledge, and so was 
 very directly landed at Llanddarog. 
 
 Simeon was extremely angry, for there was then 
 no more sunshine in Anglesea than at Fridd-bach, 
 It was the middle of October, dreary and wild 
 weather, as with late equinoctial storms. .He waited 
 several days ; then, as the weather did not mend, and 
 he heard nothing either from her or her relations, he 
 set off, with conflicting feelings both of anger and 
 anxiety, to fetch her back. 
 
 He went with the Dol-y-maenan butcher in his 
 cart to Bangor ; crossed the Garth ferry, and walked 
 along the Anglesea shore of the straits to Llanddarog ; 
 but Avhen he reached that place she was gone. She 
 had returned that very day, as she had come, at high- 
 water in a boat, and Jones Llanddarog and his wife 
 received Simeon coldly, as a man who took very 
 little care of his wife, seeing she was about to become 
 a mother any day. He did not, however, deserve 
 their reproaches, at all events, for it was precisely 
 her peculiar condition which had made him for the 
 last week so unspeakably anxious about her. But 
 he was in no humour to bear their reproaches calmly, 
 more especially as he had met the travelling eye- 
 doctor on the road to Beaumaris, coming as if from 
 Llanddarog. 
 
THE COST OF CAEEGWYN. 85 
 
 Had lie been there ? Had her uncle and aunt 
 sanctioned any acquaintance between this man and 
 his wife ? demanded he^ in a tone of jealous accusa- 
 tion, for the old unpleasant suspicion had again 
 arisen in his heart. 
 
 He could ascertain nothing. They had neither 
 seen the eye-doctor, nor knew who he was ; and the 
 suspicion implied by his questions made them angry 
 in their turn. 
 
 He profited very little by his long journey, and 
 now set off on his homeward way. Short as the days 
 were, he would have been glad, spite of the storm, 
 which had come on with raging fury since noon, to 
 have crossed the straits, as his wife had done, but 
 it was not yet high water, nor indeed was there a 
 boat to take him over. Susannah had returned with 
 the Tanrallt fisherman, who for a small consideration 
 would put her out at Dol-y-maenan. Long before 
 this time she must be at home. 
 
 The wind blew wildly from the west, and it be- 
 gan to snow soon after Simeon set out on his long 
 homeward walk, and before he reached Beaumaris, 
 the driving, blinding snow-storm veiled the sea and 
 the opposite Caernarvonshire coast as in a thick 
 mist. Anything more dreary than that afternoon's 
 walk can hardly be conceived. It seemed to be 
 growing dark soon after he had passed Beaumaris, 
 but as he was here somewhat sheltered from the storm 
 by the low wooded shore of the island itself, he 
 pushed on rapidly. 
 
 Whilst he was thus wearily plodding along. 
 
80 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 anxious to reach tlie ferry before it was quite dark, 
 a strange terror seized him. Over the low hills to the- 
 right came, as if out of the dreary, desolate Druid- 
 ical island, wild, wailing cries and lamentings, borne 
 as on the wind, and then dying away as they ap- 
 proached the road, where he stood, like one petrified ; 
 and again, the next moment, the unearthly voices 
 seemed to be caught up or replied to, on the other 
 hand, from the sea, rising in the same wild, dismal 
 wailing, which, although not loud to the senses, yet 
 overpowered the booming and plunging of the heavy 
 tide. 
 
 Simeon Hughes was not more superstitious than 
 any other man of his time and class, but it was im- 
 possible not to be horror-stricken by such sounds, at 
 that dusk hour, and in such a scene, for if they were 
 human cries of terror and distress the alarm they 
 gave rise to was hardly less than if they had their 
 origin in the world of spirits, and portended misery 
 and death. Simeon stood, as I said, petrified on the 
 spot, and the next moment seemed to see through 
 the gathering darkness of evening and the thick 
 misty atmosphere, what appeared as a dark funereaL 
 procession, somewhere amidst the shadowy space 
 around him, visible, if not to his outer, at least to his 
 inner, sight, which at that moment he could not dis- 
 tinguish — a dark train rising, as it were, from the 
 sea and crossing the road where he stood, pass over 
 or through the wooded hill on his right, as if to the 
 interior of the island. 
 
 Many Welsh people in those days, gifted with 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 87 
 
 the power of prevision or second sight, occasion- 
 ally saw such funereal and other solemn processions, 
 which were invariably supposed to foreshadow ap- 
 proaching events of a corresponding character. 
 
 When the first startling horror of the moment was 
 over, it became painfully intelligible to Simeon, 
 though this was the first time he had ever himself had 
 such an experience, and it perhaps impressed him all' 
 the more forcibly because, if he had not ridiculed 
 such experience in others, as in Gwen Thomas, for 
 instance, he had set lightly by it. Now, however, he 
 knew that it was true, that it was no delusion, no effect 
 of a merely disordered or unsteady brain. There 
 w^as death before him somewhere he did not doubt ; 
 and in his circumstances nothing was so likely as for 
 him to imasrine that it was death under his own roof. 
 Susannah would not perhaps survive the birth of the 
 child. Perhaps even now she were dead ! Who does 
 not know the effect of such a suggestion ? All know 
 it who have studied their own hearts. What if those 
 you love dearest on earth be gone — gone from you 
 during a day's, nay an hour's absence ! gone beyond 
 receiving any further assurances or tokens of your 
 love ! gone without a farewell word, without your 
 receiving their last look, their last breath ; gone 
 for ever from this world ! But if you have parted 
 from those you love in anger or in bitterness, or if 
 your conscience accuse you of want of charity, or 
 pity, or forbearance, how heart-rending is the know- 
 ledge that the time and opportunity for sympathy, 
 for forgiveness, is past for ever ! that your unkindness, 
 
OO THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 your misjudginent, your hardness of heart, stand as 
 accusing angels against you before God, and that 
 though the shivering, trembling soul, that you have 
 accused and judged so harshly, plead for you as you 
 never pleaded for it, that though it be forgiven 
 by God the sins which you were so unwilling to 
 forgive, yet that henceforth you must stand accused 
 by your own conscience and unforgiven by your- 
 self! 
 
 The heart of Simeon Hughes was thus wrung, 
 as the thought naturally suggested itself of Su- 
 sannah being dead, and the severe self-discipline 
 which was thus effected by a few moments in his 
 soul remained with enduring influence through the 
 after trials and sorrows of years. 
 
 To the well-intentioned and simple-hearted a 
 small aberration, a small neglect of duty or treason 
 against affection, is more oppressive to the conscience 
 than a great crime to the habitually hardened. Simeon, 
 therefore, went on his way, no longer regardful 
 either of storm or gathering darkness, but self- 
 accused, and thinking only of Susannah in her come- 
 liness, with her many attractive qualities and house- 
 wifely virtues, and of the little one to whom she 
 might even now be a mother, and his heart over- 
 flowed with such an energy, such an impatience of 
 affection, that he almost ran on, more impatient 
 now under this impulse than by the desire to 
 reach the ferry whilst there was yet any remaining 
 daylight. 
 
 Arrived at the ferry, he saw the boat moored on 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 89 
 
 the shore, but no one being there he hurried up to 
 the ferryman's house to summon him. A woman 
 was coming out of the door as he reached it, who, 
 having turned her gown-skirt over her head as a 
 defence against the cold, saw Simeon, and speaking 
 in an undertone told him that the ferryman's wife 
 was just dead. She was the mother of six children, 
 and the seventh was born only the preceding day. 
 Xow she was dead. 
 
 The poor ferryman had told Simeon of the birth 
 of his seventh child as he ferried him over in the 
 morning. He was a huge, stout-limbed fellow, who 
 looked able to carry the world on his shoulders, and 
 had no fear about his seven children. 
 
 Simeon stood at the door a few moments before 
 entering, and out of this nfen's grief came some con- 
 solation for himself, for the death- tokens which had 
 so alarmed him were now fully explained. This 
 mother of seven children was an Anglesea woman, and 
 the wailing cry and the black funereal train passing 
 from the sea into the island were intelligible. It 
 was with a relieved heart, therefore, that he now en- 
 tered the house of mourning. 
 
 Several women were occupied over the corpse 
 on the bed in the little inner room, the door of which 
 stood open, and walking round the screen Simeon 
 saw a very old woman, the great-aunt of the deceased, 
 sitting on a low chair by the fire with the new-born 
 baby on her knee. She had eyes of such a pale grey 
 that they looked faded, and there was a mazed and 
 bewildered expression in her countenance, and 
 
90 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 being very deaf, lier eyes were continually moving- 
 from object to object as if all her senses and faculties 
 lay in them ; two or three children were asleep on 
 the hearth. The two oldest girls, though yet quite 
 children, were busied over some poor cookery, and the 
 father, the huge herculean man, sate on the settle by 
 the fire with his body bowed down, his elbows on 
 his knees, and his hands covering his face. He 
 might have been asleep or a figure turned to stone, 
 but that his strong frame quivered and his knees 
 shook as if with an ague fit. 
 
 Simeon advanced a step or two within the 
 wooden screen, and nodding with an expression of 
 heart-felt sympathy and sorrow to the old woman, 
 said that he wanted to cross the ferry. She could 
 not hear his words, and one of the little girls then 
 turning to her father said that " a man wanted to go 
 across." 
 
 He took no notice, and the child then going up 
 to him began to repeat the words, but broke down 
 in the effort, few as they were, and bursting into 
 tears began to cry aloud, taking hold of her father's 
 arm and shaking him at the same time with a 
 passionate emotion as if of terror. 
 
 The father looked up bewildered, and then, seeing 
 Simeon, rose from his seat, saying, " You've come 
 here at a bad time ! Lord, help us ! " 
 
 Simeon spoke a few words of sympathy and said 
 that he wanted to cross. And the ferryman, without 
 replying, walked out, called to a neighbour who 
 worked with him, and led the way down to the boat. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 91 
 
 Not a word was spoken. 
 
 The aspect of the weather in the mean time had 
 improved; the snow had ceased; the clouds were 
 breaking, and here and there stars began to look 
 forth ; it was turning to frost. Simeon again spoke 
 a few words of consolation as they were crossing, 
 words such as one sorrowful Christian brother might 
 speak to another ; but the ferryman seemed not to 
 hear them, and made no reply. And so they came to- 
 the other side. It was then about eight o'clock, and 
 Simeon had seven miles to walk before he reached 
 Dol-y-maenan. 
 
 But he was an active man, and the burden of the 
 ferryman's grief had lightened his own, and under 
 the now clear and star-light sky he wended his way 
 along the high road from Bangor, feeling more 
 cheerful than he had done all the day. He was 
 conscious, however, both of anxiety and fatigue as he 
 climbed the long ascent from Dol-y-maenan to Bedd- 
 Odo, along the course of the roaring, noisy Afon, 
 which now was swollen with the autumn rain. He 
 passed through the stone stile of the potato-field 
 into the little yard, and turning round the corner was- 
 at his own door. Voices were audible within, and 
 before he could lift the latch a Dol-y-maenan woman 
 opened the door, saying cheerfully, 
 
 " Come in, Simeon, man, and see your little 
 son ! " 
 
 Simple as the words were, they greatly affected 
 him ; his heart was very full, and he was so long 
 outside rubbing his shoes on a wisp of dried fern 
 
92 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 wliicli served as mat, that everybody wondered what 
 he was after. 
 
 There were three women hi the cottage kitchen, 
 besides such as might be with Susannah in the little 
 chamber, so it was like a beehive. Nobody asked 
 him where he had been, so great seemed to be the 
 universal joy and satisfaction in the child. Susannah 
 was doing well, and Simeon made up his mind to 
 rejoice like everybody else. 
 
 It was a handsome child. Susannah very soon 
 got about again, and things fell into their accus- 
 tomed course. Like many another religious-minded 
 and scripture-reading man, Simeon had great respect 
 for his own sex. The birth of a man-child therefore 
 in his own house was almost like a sign of the Divine 
 favour towards him, and his delight and pride in the 
 child, which was called Evan, grew daily. He never, 
 it seemed to him, had known till then what it was to 
 be a father, and his forbearance and indulgence 
 towards the mother of his little son increased also. 
 Hence it was that he never reproached her with her 
 visit to Llanddarog ; never spoke to her of his toil- 
 some journey after her. 
 
 I have said that his forbearance increased towards 
 her, and it was well that it did, and that the little 
 Evan, or lanto, as he was called, brought with him 
 a fund of love and joy and comfort for the heart of 
 his father, otherwise he must have been sorely fretted 
 and grieved by the strange waywardness of temper 
 which his wife gave way to, and the silence and moodi- 
 ness which at times came over her. She no longer 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 93- 
 
 associated with her neighbours, and was often so 
 haughty and touchy in her temper towards them 
 that they avoided her. Yet she neglected none of 
 her small home-duties, and if she did not associate 
 with her neighbours at their spinning and knitting 
 gatherings, it seemed reasonable enough to her hus- 
 band, seeing there was the young child in the house, 
 and he was in no wise neglected, whatever his 
 mother's faults might otherwise be. 
 
 Through the whole spring and summer it was the 
 same, but though the small household work went on 
 and Simeon could not on this account complain of 
 his wife, yet that great impassable gulf between 
 her and himself still existed. Not even the little 
 child had bridged it over. The same adamantine 
 expression stamped her handsome countenance, the 
 same absence and abstraction of mind seemed to 
 remove her millions of miles away ; there was no 
 sentiment of sympathy or loving fellowship in her 
 eye or in the tone of her voice. She was a sphinx, 
 an enigma which her husband never was able to 
 solve, and the mystery of which was a continual 
 cloud. Yet outwardly there was nothing to com- 
 plain of ; there was not a little home under or 
 around Pentaren that for order and housewifely care 
 could compare to Fridd-bach. Even Silence Evans 
 could not have found fault ; the dresser with its 
 crockery was always bright ; the house was clean ; 
 Simeon's clothes were well cared for, so were little 
 Laura's ; and the clothes of the dead Mary Jones 
 were duly taken out by her, aired in the sun and 
 
94 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 shaken, and carefully put by again. What, then, was 
 wanted more ? Shneon would have said her heart, 
 her entire, loving heart, her sympathy, her interest. 
 The Dol-y-maenan women said she had no heart; 
 and thought Simeon rightly served by going into 
 Angiesca for a woman of South Wales ; and all the 
 old prognostics against her were revived with double 
 effect. Lisabeth Vaughan laughed as she had done 
 before, and called her ^^ the fine lady of Llandda- 
 rog." 
 
 Gradually, very gradually, and reluctantly at the 
 same time, did Simeon, who was jealous for the 
 child, with a jealousy beyond what he could feel for 
 himself, detect a want of something even in the 
 mother towards her little one, a want of the maternal 
 sentiment, of the tender, all-absorbing sentiment of 
 motherly love and devotion. How many texts did 
 he repeat to himself to bely, as it were, his own fears, 
 the want that he apprehended in his wife ; ** can a 
 woman forget her sucking child ? " 
 
 Many a time the poor father determined to talk 
 with her on the subject, to unburden his heart to her, 
 and if possible discover from her own lips that he 
 was wrong. Nothing could have made him happier 
 than to have been proved to be mistaken, to have 
 been convinced that he had done her a cruel in- 
 justice in this respect. Perhaps it was the fear of 
 finding his suspicions true that kept him silent ; or it 
 might be the ill success he always had when en- 
 deavouring to influence her. Her pride would not 
 allow any idea of short-comings on her part; and 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 95 
 
 when once she was roused she was so much more 
 ready in thought, so much more fluent in words, than 
 he, that he avoided all argument with her, perhaps 
 from somewhat of a cowardly feeling, knowing that 
 he should come off with the worst. 
 
 But little lanto in the mean time did not suffer, 
 for not only was his father his frequent nurse, and 
 always his care-taker by night as well as by day, but 
 Laura, then ten, and who had been trained by her 
 clever step-mother to great activity and usefulness, 
 with love for her baby-brother almost equal to her 
 father's, but with none of his anxiety, was an ever-ready 
 nurse. To her it seemed that life could not have 
 richer or happier hours, if she thought at all on the 
 subject, than when nursing the baby, and sitting 
 out with it the whole day through on the hill-side, 
 above the house, amongst the yellow gorse or the 
 green springing barley below the potato-field. How 
 she loved the baby ! for its sake assuredly with a most 
 unselfish love ; and what a nice excuse it furnished 
 to get away from the house, where her step-mother 
 from the first had made her a hard-worker, and 
 where now in this the second year of her reign the 
 child found herself the scape-goat of many a strange, 
 passionate outbreak for which no reason could be 
 -assigned, and yet which Susannah seemed wishful to 
 keep from the knowledge of her husband. 
 
 If Laura had not a natural turn for housewifely 
 duties, she, at all events, had a firm belief in the ex- 
 istence of the " fair family," the Tylwyth Teg, or 
 fairies, which, born with her probably and strength- 
 
96 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 ened by the good Silence Evans, led her to take great 
 pleasure in house-work, to clean the hearth, to keep 
 even the mud floor swept, and now and then to leave 
 a pail of water standing for the fair people to dance 
 round. She had an eye, it must be confessed, to the 
 piece of money they might leave behind them, 
 and Ions: she looked before she found a crooked six- 
 pence in the water as her reward. But she did find 
 it at last, and long she kept it as an invaluable gift, 
 but whether it came from the Tylwyth Teg, or from 
 the good Silence Evans, it is not for me to say. 
 
 Again the spring and summer passed over. 
 Simeon had kept silence towards his wife, so unwill- 
 ing was he to have his ever-strengthening suspicions 
 confirmed, and perhaps also from other considera- 
 tions. In the mean time the potato crop was set, 
 and the cows had calved, and the few sheep had been 
 washed and shorn with the somewhat large flock of 
 Grono Yaughan, for though the wives of Fridd-bach 
 and Glanrafon now saw but little of each other, the 
 two men were as friendly as ever, and for several 
 years their respective sheep had been washed and 
 shorn at the same time. 
 
97 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 This summer, unlike the last, was cold and wet, 
 and the hay harvest consequently late. It was now 
 the first week in August, and the Dol-y-maenan hay- 
 grass was still standing, and many of the fields half 
 flooded with the rains. It was a melancholy time ; 
 but as the moon changed in the second week of 
 August, and, according to the almanacs, foretold a 
 change of weather, Simeon and Grono Vaughan, and 
 other Dol-y-maenan men, made up their minds to 
 mow at that time and take their chance. 
 
 In the first week of that month, therefore, Su- 
 sannah, having already baked and brewed, informed 
 her husband on the Saturday, to his indignant aston- 
 ishment, that she should wean the child, then about 
 nine months old, and for that purpose intended to go 
 over to see her relations at Llanddarog. Since^her 
 last visit there no intercourse had taken place^ be- 
 tween the two families. Whatever their feelings 
 towards Simeon might be, his towards them were 
 not very amicable. Susannah knew this, neverthe- 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
V)8 THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 
 
 less she was again going there, and that at a time 
 and under circumstances which were very displeas- 
 ing to him. For the child's sake, Simeon now spoke 
 out ; besides, he had old-fashioned notions, and to 
 wean a child under two years old was a thins^ not 
 to be thought of. But he was now too angry to give 
 full force to his remonstrance. Susannah was adamant, 
 and all his arguments on the duties of a wife and 
 mother, backed by the most powerfully denunci- 
 atory or pleading texts of Scripture, all the long-pent- 
 up emotion and displeasure of his heart, were to no 
 purpose. For though, unlike the effect hitherto of any 
 such remonstrance from her husband, Susannah did 
 not bear him down with her fluency of specious 
 words, though she was silent and even wept, yet — 
 that very evening she was gone. 
 
 With a small bundle in her hand she was seen to 
 go out of Dol-y-maenan, and was also met by some 
 person who knew her on the Bangor road. She did 
 not on this occasion go over by boat. 
 
 Simeon was both extremely angry and distressed. 
 As far, however, as the child was concerned, his mo- 
 ther's determination to wean him mattered nothing. 
 He was a strong and healthy baby, and promised to 
 be on his feet before he was twelve months old, and 
 his father and young sister together were all-suf- 
 ficient as nurse and care-takers. 
 
 Poor Simeon ! defiant as was the conduct of his wife 
 towards himself, and unmotherly, almost unnatural as 
 it appeared to him, towards the child, he yet had 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 99 
 
 that jealous regard for her that he determined to main- 
 tain her honour with his neighbours, feeling it quite 
 a relief at this moment that they did not pay fre- 
 quent visits to Fridd-bach — nay even, I am almost 
 ashamed to confess, he was weak enough to simulate 
 with his own daughter and speak as if her step- 
 mother had his full permission for the conduct she 
 was pursuing. Laura, however, did not believe this 
 fully, but on her part simulated also, and pretended 
 to believe it, enjoying the greater license given by her 
 step-mother's absence. The two therefore were ap- 
 parently well contented. Simeon attended to his 
 clerk's duties in the church on Sunday, but stayed to 
 talk with no one afterwards, and on Monday began to 
 prepare for the mowing, always having an eye to the 
 child in the mean time, hurrjdng over his milking in 
 the upjDcr pastures, and putting his scythe in order 
 near the house-door, so that he might see that every- 
 thing went on right. 
 
 The moon was to change on Thursday. Simeon 
 felt sure that on Tuesday Susannah would return. 
 In the afternoon of that day therefore, feeling rather 
 tired of keeping in-doors so long, he walked down, as 
 soon as milking was over, to Glanrafon to see what 
 •promise the weather-glass made. Grono Vaughan 
 was not at home, however ; he had taken Frees with 
 him and was gone to Birllan-deg on quarry business. 
 But his wife was in the kitchen busy kneading her 
 bread for the oven. We know what were Lisabeth's 
 feelings towards Susannah, and in their fullest 
 
100 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 acrimony she spoke as soon as Simeon was com- 
 fortably seated in Grono's smoking-chair. 
 
 " Best of Goodness ! It must be a fine thing to 
 be your wife, Simeon Hughes ! taking her pleasure 
 as she does whilst other folks are slavins: I " 
 
 This salutation surprised Simeon. Her absence 
 from home was known then ; and resolving to put 
 the best face on the affair he said. Yes, Susannah 
 was gone to see her aunt for a few days whilst the 
 child was weaned. He expected her back that 
 evening or the next day at farthest, for he "was going 
 to mow on Thursday, and he wanted now to see how 
 the glass was. 
 
 *' Gone to Llanddarog, is she ? '' returned 
 Lisabeth, dividing the dough with a large knife. 
 ** Grono saw her yesterday at Caernarvon in a black 
 silk bonnet and new whittle. It's a fine thing to be 
 Mrs Hughes Fridd-bach ! " 
 
 If the mistress of Glanrafon had plunged the 
 large knife into Simeon's heart she could not have 
 given him a deeper wound than by these words. 
 
 " At Caernarvon ! " he repeated with undis- 
 guised surprise ; and then, speaking from a new im- 
 pulse which determined him to disarm suspicion, he 
 added, " No doubt she went there with her aunt. 
 They attend Caernarvon market." 
 
 "It was not market-day," persisted Lisabeth," and 
 she would not see Grono though he spoke to her. He 
 saw both her and her black silk bonnet ; but she was 
 too proud to own an old neighbour." 
 
 Mrs Vaughan laid great stress on the Hack silk 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 101 
 
 bonnet, for this was an article of luxury and fashion 
 not to be found in Dol-y-maenan parish. Another 
 and still deeper stab was this in poor Simeon's heart, 
 and determined, however wounded he might be, not 
 to be discomfited by Lisabeth, who was evidently in a 
 bitter mood, he said that perhaps Susannah had taken 
 her webs to be spun at Caernarvon ; for that she was 
 particular about everything, and liked everything of 
 the best. And with these words he left the house, not 
 wishful to hear more, but so disturbed was he by what 
 he had already heard that he forgot all about the 
 weather-glass. 
 
 It was no self-dece^Dtion when Simeon on his way 
 home told another neighbour that he expected his 
 wife back either that evening or the next day. He 
 most certainly expected her, for with all her faults 
 she was a good house-wife, and she had both brewed 
 and baked with reference to the mowing. It was her 
 interest as well as her duty, and in these respects she 
 had always been blameless. As to the black silk bon- 
 net and the new whittle and her refusing to see Grono 
 Yaughan, after the first moment's shock which they 
 produced, he simply did not believe them. It was 
 Lisabeth's malice and nothing else ; and he returned 
 home, fully expecting to find his wife there, or, if not, 
 he was sure she would come on the morrow. 
 
 His little nursling son missed her much less than 
 his father did ; his infantine slumbers were as sound 
 and sweet as if the most tender mother's love watch- 
 ed over him ; and the active little Laura, delighted 
 with her early responsibility, was alert and happy. 
 
102 THE COST OF CAEEGWYN. 
 
 " Father, she said," speaking out almost uncon- 
 sciously her innermost thoughts as they sate together 
 at supper, little lanto in rosy sleep in his wooden 
 cradle on the hearth, '^ we could do very well with- 
 out mother." 
 
 Her father was extremely angry. Never had he 
 been so angry with her before, and the poor child 
 went to her little bed in the loft crying, because her 
 father insisted upon it that she was thankless and un- 
 grateful. Little lanto remained in his cradle, for he 
 lay in his father's bed, often through the night on his 
 father's arm. But Simeon was not yet ready for rest. 
 Laura's innocent remark and the anger that hehad given 
 way to completely again unhinged his mind. As Susan- 
 nah had not returned to-day perhaps neither would 
 she return to-morrow ! and the black silk bonnet and 
 the new whittle, with which Lisabeth Vaughan had 
 smote him, now seemed like fiends haunting his very 
 soul. "Where, if Susannah were thus tricked out, had 
 the money come from for their purchase ? This was 
 a question which he did not ask himself, but which 
 some devil within him seemed to urge remorseless- 
 ly. Simeon, like all men of his class, hoarded with 
 much thought his hard and careful earnings and 
 savings, and though he was by no means miserly, yet 
 he had a certain love and regard for his money, which 
 he expended with the utmost thrift. Was it possible 
 then that Susannah had robbed him thus secretly to 
 deck herself out ? It was a horrible idea, and he put 
 it from him again and again. At length towards 
 midnight, for so long had he sate ruminating thus 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 103 
 
 miserably by the now fireless hearth, he went into 
 the little chamber and drew out the oaken chest. All 
 was right externally ; the key which he carried in 
 his own pocket faithfully opened the lock ; nothing 
 apparently had been touched. There lay the small 
 parchment deed of Fridd-bach, and there was his own 
 hoard ; he counted it out coin by coin, gold and silver ; 
 not a sixpence was missing, and in the secret deposi- 
 tory the large sums intact in the old stockings. There 
 too was the large family Bible of old Llewellyn Jones, 
 his first wife's father ; the Rev. E-ees Prichard's 
 Candle of the "Welshman, and Owen Pugh's transla- 
 tion into Welsh of Paradise Lost, her small library. 
 Everything was there. Last of all to be examined was 
 the stocking-foot which had come with Susannah from 
 Llanddarog. Simeon turned its contents out on the 
 bed and counted them, as he had done his own, coin 
 by coin. All was there, with the exception of one 
 piece, that wedding-offering from the Englishman, the 
 seven-shilling piece in gold with the hole in. He 
 put the money back again into the stocking, tied 
 it all up, returned it to the old chest, which he then 
 locked and shoved again into its hiding-place, won- 
 dering the while what could have become of that one 
 particular coin, but not immediately connecting its 
 loss with Susannah, so great was his satisfaction in 
 finding the money right; and again rejecting Mrs Yau- 
 ghan's story of her having been seen by her husband 
 at Caernarvon, returned to the kitchen, where the lit- 
 tle one was beginning to be restless in his cradle. He 
 re-lighted a fire, warmed some milk, fed him and took 
 
104 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 him in his arms to his bed. Then putting aside all 
 anxiety, by the force of a strong will compelled himself 
 to sleep. 
 
 The next day, though the moon did not change 
 till the morrow, was mild and summer-like, with grey 
 misty morning clouds hanging about the top of Pen- 
 taren. Towards noon the sun triumphed, and the 
 afternoon and evening were serenely bright, as the 
 most confirmed summer. Everybody was now in 
 heart for mowing, and in the evening Simeon busied 
 himself about his scythe. Laura, with the baby in 
 her arms, sauntered down to the road, beyond Dol-y- 
 maenan, where she could see both towards Bangor 
 and Tanrallt, beyond the foot of Pentaren, so that she 
 might be ready to receive her step- mother whichever 
 way she came. 
 
 The sun sank amidst golden splendour over the 
 " centre of Anglesea, flooding the whole island with 
 such an intense light, that it seemed veiled in a 
 lilac haze. All the Dol-y-maenan people were 
 abroad, either standing at their doors or in groups 
 in the street. The fine evening of this beautiful day, 
 giving promise of a complete change in the weather, 
 and hope for the hay harvest, and the ripening of the 
 little crops of oats and potatoes, filled every heart with 
 rejoicing. Laura waited on the road till she was tired, 
 and little lanto asleep in her arms, when she turned 
 away from the west, now tenfold brighter and more 
 gorgeous with the after-glow of the sunset, and pass- 
 ing the end of the Dol-y-maenan street, just by the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 105 
 
 Prince Caradoc, began to ascend the stony road which 
 led to Fridd-bach. 
 
 Grono Vaughan and his son Frees were coming 
 out of the public-house at the moment she passed, 
 and a group of men were standing by, who had either 
 just come out, or were going in. 
 
 " Is that you, Laura ? " said he, calling her back 
 the next moment ; " I declare I did not know you ; 
 you are growing so tall ! Well, and is your step- 
 mother come back yet ? '' 
 
 Laura said no, very innocently and openly, 
 
 Grono made no reply, but walked up to the men, 
 and began talking with them ; and Frees, who when 
 he was younger used to be a great friend of Laura's, 
 but who now imitated his father and men in general, 
 looked at her with the fat baby in her arms, from 
 head to foot, smiled and nodded, with a patronizing 
 air, then beginning to chew a straw which he held in 
 his hand, walked leisurely away to his father and the 
 other men, leaving her without a word, and with a 
 feeling that he looked down upon her. She felt, 
 she hardly knew why, annoyed and troubled. Her 
 heart was sad, and she could have cried very easily. 
 The baby too seemed heavy to carry, and the road so 
 stony ! 
 
 It troubled Simeon no little that his wife did not 
 return that night. He could not sleep, for a vague 
 uneasiness and dissatisfaction. The black silk bonnet 
 and the visit to Caernarvon rose up, in the dead soli- 
 tude of the night, as if portentous of a something. 
 
106 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 whicli he could not and would not acknowledge to 
 himself. It was a miserable nighty the first of a long 
 succession of miserable nights which belonged to that 
 time. 
 
 Thoroughly hale and healthy people like Simeon, 
 accustomed to spend the day in active employment 
 in the fresh air, people whose fare is so wholesome 
 and simple, and Avhose lives are so pure and natural, 
 that they know nothing of dyspepsia and all its train 
 of sleeplessness and haunting depressions, are strange- 
 ly upset by a night like this. Simeon grew irritable 
 in his miserable wakefulness. He remembered that 
 the night after his first wife's death, when he experi- 
 enced his first real sorrow, that he yet slept, slept 
 soundly, and though the vv^aking into the conscious 
 recollection of his sad bereavement was very terrible, 
 and he thought at the time that it would be j)refer- 
 able almost not to sleep than to have such a waking, 
 yet, nevertheless, sleep came duly, and was welcome 
 night after night, till the wakings lost their acute 
 agony, and he was wholly himself again. But this 
 was a totally new experience, for in this frightful 
 wakefulness, not only was there the combating with 
 anger, suspicion, apprehension of the worst sorrow 
 which can befall a home, the shipwreck of conjugal, 
 fidelity, but the real opening of the eyes to the black- 
 ness and misery which encompassed him, to the un- 
 derstanding of the faults of his wife's character, to 
 the fathoming of the dark, impenetrable nooks of that 
 character, which he had never hitherto been able to 
 reach, but which now in the gloom and silence of 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 107 
 
 night, and the clairvoyance of his soul, lay open, and 
 he saw that they were pits of hell ! And he had loved 
 her, that faulty, false, and incomprehensible woman, 
 and he loved her still ; and one part of his nature was 
 even now her warm advocate, reprobating his hard 
 judgment, his miserable jealousy and suspicion, and 
 setting before him her superiority to all other women. 
 "Well might Lisabeth'^Vaughan be jealous of her! Pier 
 comely person, the elasticity of her step, the neatness 
 of her figure, her cleverness and orderliness in the 
 house ! Who could knit and spin as she did ? She did 
 well whatever she laid her hand to. Had he not 
 even observed that very night the clothes of the little 
 child, as Laura had undressed him, all neat and com- 
 plete, till it had seemed to the loving, proud father 
 that had he been the heir of Penrhyn Castle itself, 
 he need not have been better supplied ! Thus twa 
 powers warred within him, and which was the true 
 and which was the untrue he knew not. 
 
 Whilst it was yet dark, and whilst he was still in 
 the throes of this terrible conflict, the little child by 
 his side awoke. Many a night before this had Simeon 
 lulled the little one to sleep, walking the chamber 
 with him in his arms, even whilst his mother lay warm 
 in the bed. But a hard, strange nature had now come 
 over the [father's heart, and he let him cry without 
 one soothing word, and the child, accustomed to such 
 watchful, loving care, cried desperately, passionately. 
 Eut if the father would not hear, if he closed his ears 
 and his heart also, not so the young Laura. From her 
 loft above, which was pierced by the unaccustomed 
 
108 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 cry, she came in her little white under- garment, 
 with her bare feet and shoulders, stumbling, and 
 frightened at the cry in the darkness, into her father's 
 room. 
 
 '^ And was this the miserable state of things into 
 which his comfortable home was to be thrown ? and 
 was this to last till he was so used to its misery as 
 not to care ? " thought he, as Laura, with her young, 
 womanly instinct, lay down on the edge of the bed, 
 and talked tenderly and soothingly to her baby- 
 brother, and cuddled it again to sleep in her warm 
 little bosom. 
 
 Simeon could not bear it. He got up, struck a 
 light, and dressed himself, and went into the kitchen. 
 Early this morning he should begin his mowing. He 
 made no attempt at further sleep ; anything was 
 better, he thought, than the misery of his wakeful 
 pillow. It was then three o'clock, and dark in the 
 cottage, but out of doors he was met by the freshness 
 of the early day. The sun had not yet ascended over 
 the eastern shoulder of Pentaren, but the sky was 
 clear, saving for a few opal-tinted stretches of cloud 
 in the east ; a thick dew lay on the herbage of the 
 mountain-side ; the air was balmy though somewhat 
 cold ; all the indications were of fair weather. 
 
 Wonderfully calmed and invigorated by the 
 freshness and holy influence of the early day, which 
 seemed as with an angel's wing to waft away the tor- 
 menting fears and anxieties of his heart, and to restore 
 to his whole being something of its native vigour and 
 buoyancy, Simeon returned to the cottage : prepared 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 109 
 
 his breakfast, and the meal that he would take with 
 him to the field ; went out and milked; returned and 
 breakfasted^ and about five o'clock set off, with his 
 scythe over his shoulder, to the little field which he 
 owned down by the sea, called Arfordir. He had 
 again shaken off some of the apprehensions of the 
 miserable darkness ; felt sure that his wife would be 
 back in the course of the day, and absolutely refused 
 to believe anything against her. Nevertheless, in- 
 stead of going down the valley by the usual way, on 
 the right hand of the Afon, which would lead him 
 through Dol-y-maenan village, he crossed by some 
 rocks which confined the stream above Bedd-Odo, and 
 following the left bank of the river, climbed the green 
 rampart by its zig-zag j)ath, and descended to the 
 shore by the lower slope of Moel Eledyr. It was 
 much farther round ; but he preferred just then to 
 avoid the village, and thus by six o'clock was in his 
 field. 
 
 In the mean time, Laura, who had fallen asleep 
 with the baby in her father's bed, slept soundly, and 
 waking at her accustomed hour, between five and 
 six, found herself in her strange position. Waking 
 out of her sound child's sleep it was almost difficult 
 to recall the troubles of the night, which seemed like 
 a dream and yet were someway a painful reality; for 
 surely her father had been angry in the night or he 
 would not have let little lanto cry so, and now he 
 was gone to his mowing, and her ^step-mother was 
 not come, and she was all alone in the house ! But 
 she was a brave-hearted little maiden. She said, as 
 
110 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 her father had clone, that her step-mother would be 
 coming before long ; she would dress the baby, and 
 feed him, and get her own breakfast ; after all it did 
 not much matter, she would go and sit in the sun- 
 shine under the wall of the potato-field with the 
 baby, when all her work was done, and look out for 
 her coming. 
 
 Simeon's hay-field adjoined Grono Vaughan's 
 little farm. It was, like all his neighbour's,marshy and 
 poor land, overgrown with rushes and the resort of 
 p)eewits, which now, seeing him about to commence 
 his mowing, flew screaming round, though their 
 young broods 'had long been hatched. The mowing 
 of his land was a hard, tough piece of work, and the 
 quantity of rushes which it produced not only in- 
 jured the quality of the hay, but rendered necessary 
 a double amount of the sun's heat to dry it. Vaughan 
 was to begin his mowing that morning also ; Simeon 
 knew this, but as yet no one was at work in his field. 
 Simeon therefore, who felt a desire to be near his 
 neighbour, for he seemed to want some one to talk to, 
 made a beginning in the corner nearest to Glanrafon. 
 The morning v/as so fine and the promise of the 
 weather so cheering, that he was willing to be happy 
 if he could. He kept mowing up and down the field 
 beside the low stone wall, looking always in the di- 
 rection of Glanrafon, when he stopped to whet his 
 scythe, and after awhile had the disappointment of 
 seeing Grono Vaughan and another man begin mow- 
 ing in another field, beyond the house, where talking 
 was quite out of the question,— in a field, the grass of 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. Ill 
 
 which he had never known cut in the first instance, 
 as long as he had known Glanrafon. 
 
 Grono had purposely made this new movement 
 to avoid speaking with Simeon. He had said to his 
 wife that morning, as soon as he saw Simeon Hughes 
 at his mowing, " I won't be the first to tell him 
 the bad news. He'll hear it soon enous^h. It's known 
 throughout all Dol-y-maenan by this time, for the 
 pedlar slept at the Prince Caradoc last night. I won't 
 go near him all day. Somebody else shall tell him." 
 
 The bad news was this, that a travelling pedlar 
 who carried a pack of Manchester goods stated that 
 on the previous Monday evening, being at Bettws- 
 Garmon, he saw Susannah Hughes with a black- 
 haired man in a gig coming from Caernarvon ; that 
 she was dressed like an Englishwoman in a black 
 silk bonnet and new white whittle. But he was con- 
 fident it was she, because he knew her well, both when 
 she lived at Llanddarog and afterwards as a wife at 
 Fridd-bach, and no one who had once seen Susannah 
 Morgan could forget her or be mistaken in her iden- 
 tity. That a man at Bettws-Garmon declared the 
 man she was with to be an Englishman, who had 
 been a clerk for some years with the lawyer Pugh 
 ■of Caernarvon. This was the pedlar's news, v/hich he 
 told, not only at the Prince Caradoc and all the 
 houses he called at in and about Dol-y-maenan, but 
 had also left the fame of through the whole of his way 
 from Bettws-Garmon hither. More than this, and in 
 -confirmation of it, a brother-pedlar whom he had 
 met at the new slate-quarry village of Bethesda, and 
 
112 THE COST or CAERGWYN. 
 
 who had a lawsuit going on, in which Pugh was em- 
 ployed, reported that that lawyer was complaining 
 of his English clerk, Frederick Nye, having left him 
 a week or two before. 
 
 The inference therefore was, and nobody could 
 doubt it, that Susannah Hughes was gone off with 
 the Englishman Nye. 
 
 Terrible news this ! and Grono, sincerely grieved 
 and troubled for his friend, went quietly out of his 
 house by the back way whilst Simeon was bending 
 at his mowing, and began his work in this unaccus- 
 tomed manner. 
 
 Simeon Hughes worked all the morning, and no- 
 body came near him. He saw various Dol-y-maenali 
 people at no great distance ; one drove down his cow 
 to the open land by the sea, within scarcely more 
 than a stone's throw from his field, yet never turned 
 his head in his direction, and went back some other 
 way ; two others came from different quarters, who 
 each talked some time with Mrs Vaughan at her 
 door, then walked on to Grono and talked with him, 
 both again disappearing, as if they would avoid 
 him. 
 
 The fact was, they were all acting on Grono Vau- 
 ghaii's plan, and Simeon might have remained the 
 whole day in ignorance of the misery and dishonour 
 which had fallen upon him, if towards noon, tired 
 with his want of sleep rather than by his work, and 
 again strangely depressed and- anxious, he had not 
 thrown down his scythe, climbed the stone-wall, and 
 gone across to Glanrafon. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 113 
 
 When Lisabeth saw him approaching, she shut 
 the door, and kept both herself and her two girls 
 out of sight of the kitchen window. But he was 
 not aiming at the house ; his steps were, direct- 
 ed to the field where Grono was at work. Grono, 
 who saw him coming from the first, bent with re- 
 doubled energy to his mowing, trying to come to 
 some decision as to his best mode of action. Should 
 he walk away from him, as if he did not see him, or 
 should he be the good neighbour and friend and 
 prepare him for that which was in everybody's mouth, 
 and which must come down like a thunder-bolt upon 
 him come when it would ? He determined on the 
 latter mode, and whilst Simeon was yet at some little 
 distance laid down his scythe and went to meet him. 
 
 The news, someway or other, was communicated ; 
 the most terrible news which could reach the ear of 
 a husband. Yet full of apprehension, suspicion, and 
 doubt as Simeon had been through the night, self- 
 instilled as it then almost appeared to be, he now re- 
 fused to believe it. He was both indignant for her 
 sake, and angry for his own, and almost quarrelling 
 with Grono, who had suffered a great deal in telling 
 him, he hurried away home, leaving his scythe in the 
 unfinished swathe, in the hope that he might find her 
 there, and thus be able to rebut the aspersion against 
 her. 
 
 But Fridd-bach was empty and the door locked, 
 Mingar lying in faithful guard on the large flat piece 
 of rock which cropped out of the ground at the cor- 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
114 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 ner of the wall in the sun. At sight of his master 
 he barked joyfully, wagged his tail, and looked pite- 
 ously into his face. But Simeon took no notice of 
 him, took the door key from its hiding-place under 
 the step of the cow-house, and went in. There was 
 no trace of his wife anywhere, traces only of Laura's 
 small handiworks ; the remains of the baby's food 
 and her own breakfast. Laura, in fact, after her break- 
 fast, taking bread with her for herself and the child, 
 and a little milk for him also in an old physic bottle, 
 had gone with some of the Dol-y-maenan children 
 to gather blackberries in the thicketty woodlands on 
 the other side of Pentaren. 
 
 Again Simeon determined on visiting Llanddarog, 
 for there perhaps, if he did not find her, he might be 
 able to confute this story. Looking across therefore 
 to the Straits, and seeing that it would be high water in 
 about an hour, again locking the door and putting the 
 key in its accustomed place, which would be found 
 equally by Susannah if she returned, instead of going 
 down again to Dol-y-maenan, he made his way over 
 Pentaren to the village of Tanrallt, whence he crossed, 
 according to the favourite mode of his wife, with the 
 Tanrallt fishermen, and just at the turn of high 
 water landed in Anglesea. 
 
 But the news was before him. The pedlar with 
 the law-suit had the preceding day reached Beau- 
 maris, and that morning paid a visit to Llanddarog. 
 Susannah had never been there at all, and nothing 
 could equal the violence of her relations, who now. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 115 
 
 instead of blaming her, treated Simeon as the origin- 
 ator of the mischief, as having brought the disgrace not 
 only upon himself but upon them. Susannah, they 
 asserted, had never been happy in her marriage ; that 
 she had found him a stern and morose husband ; that 
 Fridd-bach had never been a home to her, and that 
 no^v, having left her home and her child, which was 
 unnatural for any mother to do, Simeon must know 
 the cause of provocation, and that he had only him- 
 self to blame. Almost every circumstance of his 
 married life, even the most trivial, was made a cause 
 of accusation against him; the calling of the -child 
 Evan, instead of John, as Susannah had wished, and 
 which was her uncle's name, he now found had been 
 a cause of offence. His little daughter had been heard 
 to say that " she liked home best when mother was 
 out;" nay, even Susannah herself had borne testimony 
 against him ; and when in the storm of indignation^ 
 anger, and recrimination which grew out of this, Jones 
 Llanddarog declared it as his belief that Simeon had 
 married her only for her money, Simeon solemnly 
 vowed that her money should go out of the house, as 
 she had done, for that a curse was both in it and on 
 her. 
 
 Crushed, humiliated, and almost heart-broken, 
 Simeon, scarcely giving a thought to his desolated 
 home and his forlorn children, went to Caernarvon, 
 resolved as far as he could to trace the fugitives, and 
 vowing the most deadly vengeance against Nye in case 
 lie should fall under his hands, for he had now 
 
116 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 learned of his former acquaintance with Susannah and 
 of his visit to Llanddarog on the wedding-day, from 
 his friend Tola on his way to Caernarvon. 
 
 There was no active police in those days, and the 
 sleepy constable of Caernarvon and the very magis- 
 trates of the county could do nothing for him. Nye 
 had left Pusrh's office, as he learned from that lawver 
 himself, six months before, and was now living in 
 London, though he had been in Caernarvon only the 
 preceding week, and Pugh had no doubt but that 
 the fugitives were on their way to Shrewsbury when 
 seen by the pedlar at Bettws-Garmon, and that at 
 Shrewsbury they would take the coach to London. 
 Pugh could give no further information, but he 
 advised Simeon to commence an action against jSTye 
 for the abduction of his wife, and, as he was aware 
 that Simeon had some little money, was very strenuous 
 to commence proceedings at once. 
 
 Simeon was too heart-sick to seek his revenge 
 in that way ; besides, he knew the character of this 
 lawyer, and he wisely thought that he had trouble 
 enough on his hands in one form without adding to it 
 another. He walked on therefore to Bettws-Garmon, 
 and from the landlord of the little public-house there 
 obtained so precise a description of the pair as to re- 
 ceive not only the strongest conviction as regarded 
 his wife, but also as to assure him that the pretended 
 dealer in golden ointment was no other than Nye 
 himself, thus throwing a mysterious light also on the 
 missing gold coin, which had probably served in some 
 way as a token between them. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 117 
 
 Worn out with fatigue and humiliated to the very 
 dust, Simeon Hughes turned his steps homeward, 
 regarding as happy and enviable the poor Herculean 
 ferryman, who still mourned with a true heart's love 
 the mother of his seven children, the wife who had 
 never been faithless to him even by a thought. As yet 
 however he felt too much scared and stupified by 
 the blow, fully to realize his condition. He only 
 knew that he was utterly miserable. He felt like one 
 stunned, and seemed to move as in a dream. He 
 shunned the high road, unwilling to face any one, and 
 striking at once into the hills, crossed between the two 
 lakes of Llanberis, and entering upon a wild and 
 savage region of mountains, which seemed wonder- 
 fully in accordance with his state, came down by the 
 •dreary, haunted Lake Id wall to the head of Nant 
 Frangon, and again throwing himself into the still 
 more terrible solitudes of the Carnedds of David and 
 Llewellyn, reached Ro on the second evening after 
 leaving Bettws-Garmon. 
 
 The intervening night was spent on the open 
 mountains. It was a night of conflict and agony, in 
 which he woke to the full understanding of his sorrow, 
 and fought it out as with the angel of judgment him- 
 self. It was his Gethsemane ; a night never to be 
 forgotten ; a night in which he fathomed the depths 
 of his great love, his great sorrow and humiliation; 
 to fathom also the condition into which she had 
 fallen ; the misery, the degradation into which she 
 had plunged herself. An infinite pity filled his heart. 
 He wept over her, in a spirit similar to that in which — 
 
118 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 if poor humanity may be compared with, the Divine — 
 our Lord wept over Jerusalem when the day of her 
 salvation was past. 
 
 ^^ Oh if thou hadst known in this thy day, the 
 things that belong to thy peace, but which now are 
 hidden from thee ! " 
 
 And soiiiething of the pity and forgiveness which 
 influenced the Divme Redeemer influenced the 
 trembling heart of poor Simeon, and he too pitied, 
 and pleaded with God for the sinner who had so 
 cruelly wounded and crucified him. " Father, forgive 
 her, for she knows not what she has done ! " 
 
 It was a night as of a thousand years, and when 
 it was over, it seemed a miracle that he had lived 
 through it. The sun rose in his great calm splendour, 
 above the eastern horizon, amidst a vast solitude of 
 mountains, with their stony caerns, rifts, and chasms, 
 and melancholy lakes, the bare splintered heads of 
 the Carnedds, and their giant brethren beside him, 
 catching the sunlight before it greeted his sight. So 
 upon the vast wilderness of desolation in his soul had 
 risen the sun of the Divine consolation, touching the 
 hard peaks of his misery, till they were flooded with 
 His love. 
 
 Simeon wept as he had never done in his life be- 
 fore. He could have believed that angels ministered 
 to him ; the thorns of his agony seemed turned to 
 roses, so conscious was he of the Divine love and pitj^^ 
 He could not do other than pity and forgive, when 
 he himself was so mercifully dealt with. 
 
 An hour after sunrise, he rose and went on his- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 119 
 
 way. He was very weak in body, for he had eaten 
 nothing through the preceding day, and the conflict 
 through which he had passed left him spent, as by a 
 long illness. He walked slowly, wondering at that 
 which had happened to him, and at length sank to 
 the ground, overcome by exhaustion and fatigue. 
 From this state of unconsciousness he was roused by 
 a young shepherd and a boy, who being about to take 
 their morning meal, now placed themselves beside 
 him, and gave him to eat of the best which they had. 
 He appeared to be a stranger to them, for not a word 
 was said which had reference to his peculiar sorrow, 
 but they treated him with tender, pitying kindness, 
 as if he had been their father, and in the strength of 
 that food he was enabled to proceed. 
 
 In recalling this wonderful time of misery and 
 mercy, Simeon was often puzzled^ though he never 
 spoke of it to any one but his sister, to understand 
 many of its details. That young shepherd and the 
 boy he never saw again. Sometimes he thought he 
 had been delirious, and imagined that he had seen 
 them, and that they had given him refreshment, or 
 that in his fatigue he had slept and dreamed, and so 
 awoke refreshed. Silence Evans, however, maintained 
 that they were God's angels sent to refresh him, with 
 food fitted to his need. It was easy for her to believe 
 this ; '^ for why," she argued, " should not God's 
 holy angels have the power now which they had of 
 old ? God's arm was not shortened, that it could 
 not save ; nor his heart hardened, that it could not 
 pity." 
 
120 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 But the question remained unsettled at the death 
 of both. 
 
 To return, however, to Simeon on this particular 
 day. Towards evening he reached Ro, his heart 
 yearning towards his good sister, and reluctant as he 
 felt to s]3eak of his affairs to any one, he yet longed 
 to be near some true and faithful friend in whose 
 stability and good faith his tossed and tempested 
 heart could find anchorage. When he reached his 
 sister's cottage, however, he found it shut up ; and a 
 neighbour who saw him by the door, kept herself out 
 of sight, partly from a feeling of delicacy, for the 
 news had reached Ro even before the pedlar, and 
 partly because she was frightened at the pale and 
 hassrard countenance of the man on whom had fallen 
 such a strange and bitter affliction. 
 
 The cause of Silence's cottage being closed was 
 simply this. As soon as the ill tidings reached her, 
 which was on the Thursday evening, she set off to 
 the house of mourning, arriving there even before 
 Laura returned from the blackberry gathering with 
 her baby-brother, and knowing where the house-door 
 key was hidden, let herself in, and by the time they 
 were back, the little home looked as cheery and com- 
 fortable as if it had contained the best of mothers. 
 Simeon therefore, now finding his sister's cottage 
 closed, imagined how it was, and unwilling to en- 
 counter others, even to ascertain the truth, turned 
 away from the village, and following the path which 
 led to the old church of Llangelynin, sat down to rest 
 amongst the graves, and then slowly pursued his way 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 121 
 
 over the mountain-moorland, making a little detour 
 to avoid Mawn-ddu, the little upland farm of the 
 Rowlands, and so reached his home by the back of 
 Pentaren towards night-fall. 
 
 The nearer he approached home, however unrea- 
 sonable such hope might be, and however strong the 
 proofs were that Susannah was lost to him for ever, 
 Simeon could not resist the suggestion that perhaps, 
 after all, there might be some mistake, perhaps he 
 might find her at home, might iind all things as they 
 had been ; that some way or other the mystery of her 
 conduct might be cleared, that some way or other she 
 had been misjudged, and all would be right again. 
 How the agitated and perplexed heart clings to such 
 cobweb-threads of hope, as are contained in the some- 
 tucuj or other ! Leaning, then, on this staff, which in 
 Simeon's case was a broken one, he reached home at 
 dusk hour. He came down the mountain-side seeing 
 no one. Mingar met him at the door, wagging his 
 tail quietly, and twisting his body as with an emotion 
 of tenderness, strove to rub against his knees ; but 
 Simeon did not notice him, and entering his door with 
 a beating heart and sick of hope deferred, spoke not 
 a word, but seated himself on the settle by the fire- 
 side, near which stood the wooden cradle, and the 
 baby within it. 
 
 Silence Evans, who was in the little chamber, utter- 
 ed a low scream of compassionate surprise, when, hear- 
 ing some one enter, she looked out and saw that it was 
 he. By the sound of her voice, Simeon knew that no 
 good tidings awaited him at home. Silence came out im- 
 
122 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 mediately, and with the tact of truly delicate feeling, 
 seeing by his countenance what the truth was, said 
 nothing, for how could she welcome him back to a 
 home as desolate as his was now ? But she set before 
 him to eat and to drink, of the best which the house 
 held, and in the mean time Laura came in. The little 
 girl felt frightened when she beheld the strange white 
 look of misery in her father's face. He recognized 
 her by a frigid nod, but spoke not a word, and after 
 standing some time by the dresser, with a kind of 
 awkward shyness and awe, in the presence of that 
 great misery and desolation of heart which seemed 
 to have entered the house with her father, she stole 
 away on tiptoe into the chamber, where since her 
 father's absence she had slept with her aunt and the 
 baby, and lay down on the bed. 
 
 Simeon took no notice whatever of the baby, not 
 even when, waking up as was usual before bed- time, it 
 opened wide its large eyes to the little rush candle, 
 or the red embers on the hearth, and seeing its father, 
 stretched out its arms to go to him ; and then when, 
 instead of the usual look of love and joyous welcome, 
 it encountered the miserable aspect of a blank despair, 
 if not of bitterness in his countenance, the little limbs 
 collapsed, and shrank back, the face turned pleading- 
 ly to the tender woman, and the little features contract- 
 ed as by a strange spasm of disappointment, it began 
 to cry piteously. 
 
 Simeon took no notice. This he thought was an- 
 other pang which he had to endure, that was all. By 
 degrees the child was again lulled to sleep, then 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 123- 
 
 Simeon, telling his sister that he should sleep in the 
 loft, pulled down the ladder, and retired for the 
 night. Henceforth this was his sleeping apartment, 
 and the oaken chest and his own proper belongings- 
 were soon after removed into it. 
 
124 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The next morning, spite of all that he had gone 
 through both of body and mind, Simeon rose early 
 and went down to his little piece of hay-land, intend- 
 ing to finish his mowing. He did not now, as form- 
 erly, however, go round by Bedd-Odo and the Twyn- 
 glas, to avoid his neighbours. He had passed through 
 so much, since the morning when he was thus self- 
 conscious and sensitive to public observation, that 
 now every trial or mortification was as nothing by 
 comparison. He was armed and defended by his 
 great sufifering and his great loss against all lesser 
 pangs or shame. And when he was seen that morn- 
 ing going down to his field, by one and another of 
 his neighbours, all were struck, as his little daughter 
 had been the night before, as with awe and reverence, 
 so great was the change which these few days had 
 made in him. There was a strange grey solemnity 
 about him ; the stamp of sorrow, the acquaintance- 
 ship of grief, and they looked after him as after a 
 stranger. He spoke to none ; he simply nodded to 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 125 
 
 such as addressed him_, and without delaymg his 
 steps walked on. 
 
 When he reached his little field he found to his 
 surprise that not only had the grass been mown, but 
 that the hay was now nearly ready for carrying. His 
 neighbour Grono Yaughan had done this ; it was 
 the first outward thing that gave him any satisfaction. 
 Another little occurrence is worth mentioning. The 
 third day of Simeon's absence was Sunday ; he him- 
 self perhaps had not remembered the fact, nor had 
 questioned, as in ordinary circumstances he would 
 have done, how his office of clerk during the church 
 service would be supplied. His friend Grono had 
 supplied it, and he had even walked to the rector's, 
 early in the morning, to propose that a prayer should 
 be put up in the church for the poor clerk whose ab- 
 sence was caused by so sad a domestic calamity. 
 But the Eev. Edward Edwards, who did not like 
 additional trouble of any kind, demurred. There 
 was no prayer in the Prayer-book especially calcu- 
 lated for his case, and he could not go contrary to the 
 rubric. Besides, he would be prayed for amongst all 
 such as are in trouble in mind, body, or estate, and 
 even if it were not so, Simeon should not have 
 married such a wife. He therefore was not especially 
 prayed for in the church. Very different, however, 
 w^as it in the Rowlands' cottage, at Mawn-ddu, w^here 
 the little band of Methodists met, of whom old 
 Matthias, Richard's father, was class-leader and 
 itinerant preacher. Morning, noon, and night, were 
 
126 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 prayers poured forth for him ; prayers with groans 
 and tears. Of this Simeon heard afterwards, and, like 
 the mown-field, though he said little about it, it sank 
 very deeply into his heart. 
 
 The next day two events occurred. Some of the 
 hay was brought home, and a letter came by post 
 from Shrewsbury. It was written by Susannah, and 
 contained but few words. 
 
 It said that her husband would never hear of 
 her more. That she was sorry for all the trouble 
 she had given him ; that so long as she had lived 
 imder his roof she had been .a faithful wife to him, 
 and she besought him, as he loved God and all that 
 was pure and holy, to be good to the little child. 
 She said that though appearances were against her, 
 yet she had not been a bad wife ; that she had never 
 wronged him of a penny, nor yet of her love, for 
 that had never been his ; and she begged that what 
 she had brought into the house might remain for the 
 child, whom she prayed might be a comfort to his 
 father, might atone for all the sorrow she had given 
 him. Finally, she besought him not to trouble him- 
 self about her, for that she was not worthy of it, and 
 had never been so. She was now on her way to 
 London, she said, where she had friends. 
 
 When Simeon had read the letter he gave it to his 
 sister. They two were the only ones that knew its 
 contents ; and from that day the name of Susannah 
 was never mentioned by her husband, though he never 
 omitted to pray for her, daily, as long as he lived. And 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 127 
 
 €0 deeply stamped upon his countenance and his 
 whole demeanour was this crowning affliction and 
 dishonour that none of his neighbours, not even his 
 familiar friend Grono Vaughan, entered upon the 
 subject with him. His sorrow seemed almost to have 
 invested him with a dignity that raised him above his 
 old compeers and associates. All treated him hence- 
 forth with instinctive consideration. 
 
 It was remarkable also that, though he had passed 
 through so much suffering both of body and mind, yet 
 that no sickness ensued — he fell into no brain or 
 nervous fever, and bore his desolation like a man of 
 courage and firm will, but from that time he aged 
 rapidly. One year did the work of many upon him : 
 and hence when we first introduce him to our readers 
 he appears as a man of three-score and ten, when in 
 fact he is five years short of three-score. 
 
 A few days after the receipt of Susannah's letter, 
 Simeon, remembering the vow he had made in his 
 anger at Llanddarog, carried the stocking-foot con- 
 taining Susannah's money down to Glanrafon, re- 
 questing Grono Vaughan not only to take charge 
 of it, but also to invest it profitably for the child. 
 And it having been carefully counted out, he received 
 a binding acknowledgment from Grono, whom he 
 commissioned at the same time to inform Jones 
 Llanddarog of what he had done. But in all this 
 Susannah's name was not mentioned. 
 
 It may seem a little inconsistent after what I have 
 said of the unwillingness of the Welsh peasant to put 
 
128 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 his money in the bank, or to risk it by any of the 
 various means of investment which are so common 
 now-a-days, that Simeon should place Susannah's 
 money in the hands of Grono Vaughan for this pur- 
 pose. But it must at the same time be understood 
 that the Englishman of Birllan-deg had now been 
 living amongst the Welsh for some years, and that 
 from the first he had endeavoured to wean them from 
 their old accustomed sordid habit of keeping their 
 savings unemployed in chests, or hidden about their 
 houses. He was always preaching up the diffusion 
 and right use of money as the duty of the Christian and 
 the soundest wisdom of the citizen. Nevertheless 
 Grono Vaughan, though he listened to him respectful- 
 ly, would have been very unwilling to test the validity 
 of these views by any venture of his own. He gave 
 however at second-hand all he heard to Simeon, 
 laying down the Englishman's opinions with great 
 emphasis, and Simeon, who had an acuter intellect than 
 his friend, accepted them as practical truths, though 
 but for the domestic calamity which overturned his 
 life he might never have been induced to take the 
 initiative step. 
 
 But now he must rid himself of this money which 
 he believed had brought a curse into his house. He 
 had been taunted by Jones Llanddarog with having 
 married Susannah for her money — therefore with this 
 money he would himself have nothing more to do. 
 Still he would be a good steward, and remembering 
 that the employment of the talents in the Gospel was 
 commended in proportion to their increased amount 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 129 
 
 he placed the money in the hands of his friend, and 
 as far as his small experience went every security was 
 taken for the future benefit of her child. 
 
 This is, in fact, the transaction upon which our 
 story hinges. 
 
 But now to return to Fridd-bach. One of the 
 most marked features of the new state of things there 
 was the reinstated favour of Mingar. Although 
 Simeon for many days took no more notice of the 
 poor animal than he did of Laura or her aunt, yet 
 the dog, conscious of the great change in his master's 
 mind, kept his yearning eyes constantly upon him 
 when they were out together, and solicited his atten- 
 tion so unceasingly that at length it was given. Min- 
 gar, no longer accustomed to the warm cottage 
 hearth, regarded the cow-house as his proper abode, 
 and to the silence and seclusion of the same place 
 Simeon, fleeing from his own fireside and the sight 
 of the child, like the wounded stag from the herd, 
 passed many hours here on the pretence of work, 
 often sitting listless and hopeless amongst the dried 
 fern which was housed in one part of the building, 
 as winter bedding. At such times Mingar would 
 creep close to him, lay his head upon his knee and 
 look up in his face with patient yearning. At length 
 Simeon's hand was laid on the faithful creature's 
 head, and it is possible that somewhat of the joy and 
 consolation which the poor brute heart felt in this 
 token of returning love and reconciliation stole also 
 into the afilicted heart of the man. Thus the dog and 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
130 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 his master became friends as of old, and again, in this 
 new state of things following him like his shadow, 
 came into the cottage, and again lay on the hearth 
 amongst the broken peats. 
 
 They were all glad to have !Mingar in-doors once 
 more. It was like old times. And when little Evan 
 began to toddle about, which he did very early, 
 the dog was his delight, and not unfrequently might 
 the two be seen sleeping on the hearth together. 
 Silence Evans encouraged the child's liking for the 
 dog, for it was well, she thought, to associate him 
 with anything that had a hold on his father's affec- 
 tions. 
 
 Months, however, went on, and Simeon remained 
 indifferent to his little son. Fortunately, however, 
 there was nothing of the mother about him. He was 
 stout-built, like his father, with his fair complexion 
 and blue eyes, and had so many little innate traits, 
 young as he was, a smile or play of the countenance, 
 which was so exactly Simeon's, that a strange feeling 
 often possessed him, as he silently watched him at 
 his little occupations and amusements, as if his own 
 infanthood was here imaged back to him ; as if, by 
 some strange magic influence, he beheld in himself 
 and the child one and the same being at the two 
 opposite extremes of life. And so by degrees God, 
 who is all love, operated in the shipwrecked, tem- 
 pest-tossed heart of the sorrowing man, and linked 
 to him the young, innocent, inexperienced, joyous 
 child, which was an embodiment to him of a remote 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 131 
 
 portion of his own being when he too knew neither 
 sin nor sorrow. 
 
 But the outv/ard manifestations of love on the 
 father's part were very slow. In the mean time he 
 had done thus late what it would have been well if 
 he had done before taking the great false step of his 
 life ; he invited, nay, solicited Silence Eva,ns to make 
 Fridd-bach her home, and under her loving care all 
 went well there ; and even though Simeon still re- 
 mained a man of silence and so]-row, and still both 
 inwardly and outwardly bore about him the scars of 
 the great conflict through which he had passed, yet 
 his life was not desolate. When the little lad, whose 
 resemblance to him was apparent to all, had regained 
 his place in his affections, a well-spring of joy was 
 opened in his heart ; he became his constant compan- 
 ion, carried in his arms or running by his side, and 
 as he grew older attending him either at home or on 
 the hills in all his small farming operations. 
 
 In the mean time the little sum of money had been . 
 invested. But regarding this allimportant transaction 
 I have something more to say. 
 
 Beyond Moel Eledyr, the hills falling back con- 
 siderably, a broad extent of land lay between the feet 
 of the hills and the sea, mostly lying waste and occu- 
 pied merely by rabbits and screaming peewits. About 
 a hundred acres of this land, however, had been in- 
 closed, that is to say, the waste had been encroached 
 upon at two different periods ; in the first instance, 
 for a little farm called Caergwyn, from an old fort 
 
132 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 which was said to have stood there ; and, secondly, as 
 additional land was wanted, of a flat running down 
 to the sea, all which, though still remaining as private 
 property, had now been so long neglected as almost 
 to have returned to a state of nature. Some difficulty 
 about the title of Caergwyn, it was believed, and 
 some rumour of the intention of the Crown to assert 
 its claim to all modern encroachments, so as to repress 
 the growing spirit of encroachment in the small 
 peasant farmers and cotters, induced the present pro- 
 prietor, a shopkeeper of Wrexham, to offer the later 
 inclosure for immediate sale. It was a fine stretch of 
 land, capable of rich cultivation, although now hardly 
 superior to that original condition which had acquired 
 for it its ancient name of Morfa glas, or the Green 
 Marsh. 
 
 This land lay conveniently for Grono Vaughan, 
 and had long been regarded by him with covetous 
 eyes, more especially since he had been looking at 
 things through, what his neighbours called, Mr 
 Eutherford's spectacles. 
 
 But the Morfa glas, though offered at a suspici- 
 ously .cheap price, would far exceed the possibility of 
 purchase by the Llanddarog money, and Grono and 
 Simeon consulted long together on the subject. At 
 length Simeon confided to his friend that great secret 
 which had so long lain concealed in the false bottom 
 of his chest. Here was a fund which, swallowing up 
 the Llanddarog money like the large serpent swallow- 
 ing up the less, would as amply suffice for the purchase 
 as if it had been kept purposely for it. 
 
THE COST OF CAEHGWYN. 133 
 
 Grono opened his deep-set eyes and his large 
 hands with a sensation that worked through his whole 
 being. He seemed to grasp and clutch, as if he would 
 dig into the very heart of his old friend, so exciting 
 was this discovery ; whilst Simeon, secretly proud of 
 having so much money, yet half ashamed of it at the 
 same time, said repeatedly : 
 
 " Never speak of it, Grono bach ! never say a 
 word about it ! It is between thee and me. If it 
 gets wind they'll say I've more, and I shall have 
 no rest." 
 
 '^It's as safe as death with me," said Grono. 
 *• You never knew me blab. I'm safe, even with 
 cwrw-da inside me." 
 
 Simeon had the entirest faith in his friend. 
 
 The lawyer who was employed by the Wrexham 
 shopkeeper was Malmsey Edwards, of Caernarvon, 
 the rival lawyer of David Pugh, and to him the two 
 men went, and in a very few weeks tHe beautiful 
 verdant flat of the Morfa glas was the ..property of 
 Silicon Hughes. Everybody was astonished, be- 
 cause its price was no secret, and though it would 
 be considered a mere trifle to land-purchasers in 
 these days, it seemed a great deal to poor 'Welsh 
 farmers and villagers. Nobody had an idea that 
 Simeon Hughes was so rich. Grono kept his 
 counsel, but he looked mysterious, and many there- 
 fore suspected that the greater part of the purchase- 
 money was advanced by himself. It is true he 
 denied it at the Prince Caradoc, but nobody 
 believed him. Mr Eutherford had been heard to 
 
131 THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 
 
 speak of it as a fact ; Grono, therefore, greatly 
 increased in public estimation ; for say what you 
 will about the purity and unworldlincss of country 
 life, the value of money and the status which its 
 possession gives to a man is exactly the same 
 amongst mountain valleys as in the streets of cities. 
 
 Two years, in which the seasons were tolerably 
 good, satisfied Simeon and his tenant Grono that the 
 purchase had been a wise one. And now the 
 ^Vrexham shopkeeper, by the advice of his lawyer, 
 advertised in the (hdad carwr, or Patriot, the whole 
 remainder of the property, " the beautiful little 
 farm of Cacrgwyn," for immediate sale. 
 
 '• If Simeon did not buy it somebody else 
 would,'' urged Grono Vaughan; and the lawyer not 
 only said the same, but advised him to make a great 
 effort, at any cost, to secure the purchase, arguing 
 that the value of the Morfa glas would be greatly 
 enhanced by his possessing Caergwyn also. 
 
 Simeon was desirous of neglecting no duty to- 
 wards his children, and spite of his own soul being 
 weaned, as he thought, by affliction from the world, 
 he had a secret pride and ambition in leaving such 
 provision for them after his death as should raise 
 them far above want. For Laura he had put by 
 already two hundred guineas, which in her rank of 
 life was a large dowry. This and the little freehold 
 of Fridd-bach, a field or inclosure on the mountain, 
 and his land by the sea, was all that he possessed 
 either of money or means for raising it. 
 
 Every week the advertisement of the sale of 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 135 
 
 Caergwyn stared him in the face ; he often lay 
 awake troubled by the thought of it at night. Both 
 Grono Vaughan and the lawyer were extremely 
 urgent with him to raise the money by mortgage, 
 which with the two hundred guineas, the know- 
 ledge of which he had confided to his friend, would 
 be sufficient. But of a mortgage he had an in- 
 describable terror, regarding it as a species of dis- 
 grace, and Laura's money he vowed with himself 
 not to touch. 
 
 Time went on ; and should he or should he not 
 involve himself to purchase Caergwyn ? lay upon his 
 mind like a question of life or death. Grono and 
 the lawyer still urged it by all means in their 
 power, and even Mr Rutherford's opinion was 
 quoted as an argument in its favour. At length it 
 was decided. Money was to be raised by mortgage 
 upon Fridd-bach and the old property, and the 
 lawyer was to advance the remainder on the new 
 purchase. Laura's little dowry was to remain in- 
 tact. 
 
 Again a few weeks passed, during w^hich every- 
 thing seemed to be in favourable progress, when 
 suddenly a difficulty occurred. The money which 
 the lawyer had undertaken to advance was not 
 forthcoming. The purchase-deeds were partly drawn, 
 and it was absolutely necessary for Simeon to com- 
 plete the required sum by the money he had in his 
 own keeping. 
 
 Simeon asked for a little time to consider the 
 subject. He could not make up his mind all at 
 
136 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 once. If the money were not liis daughter's portion, 
 part of which her own mother had brought, it would 
 be different. As it was he must take time to think. 
 
 The lawyer said it was too late now to waste 
 time in thinking; they had gone too far to draw 
 back. Grono gave him a hint to come over and 
 talk with Simeon himself. He did so, and the two 
 walked up to Fridd-bach together. Edwards brought 
 with him a map of the property which had just been 
 made with reference to the sale, a neat map in 
 which the various fields were shown with their lines 
 of fences, and the little meandering brook which 
 ran down from Moel Eledyr to the sea. It made 
 the whole look very attractive, thus mapped out on 
 a scale large enough for half a county. The lawyer 
 said, laughingly, that Simeon would not long hesi- 
 tate after he had seen the map. 
 
 Simeon and his visitors talked and talked, at first 
 standing in the potato-field, where he had been 
 caught by them as he was digging up his autumn 
 crop, and then they leisurely walked towards the 
 house, whence Laura and her aunt, seeing them 
 coming, made their escape with their knitting, whilst 
 lanto, who had been picking potatoes with his father, 
 and been sent away on the advent of Grono and 
 the lawyer, amused himself on the peat stack. 
 
 Poor Simeon never was in such a strait before. 
 He had said, times without end, when speaking of 
 other people's pecuniary temptations, that nothing 
 should ever induce him to put himself in the fetters 
 of a mortgage, yet he had done it. And now, 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 137 
 
 finally, after the lawyer and Grono had talked with 
 him for an hour, the chest was brought forth from 
 its hiding-place in the old chimney behind his bed, 
 and the money counted out. Two hundred guineas 
 in gold, a fine sight to look upon ! counted out in 
 little heaps of twenties, on the white scoured table 
 by the settle under the window, and a portion of it 
 the dower of the good Mary Jones. 
 
 Simeon, however, did not part with it willingly. 
 He slowly counted it out, and once put it all back 
 again, saying he could not do it. He would rather 
 give up the purchase, at a sacrifice, than part with 
 this ^money. They might as well ask him to give 
 them his right hand ! But again he was over-per- 
 suaded; and, at last, it was with an unspeakable 
 pang that he saw the two stocking -feet, each con- 
 taining its hundred guineas, and carefully tied up, 
 dropped into the. two large pockets of the lawyer. 
 Simeon, in return, received a proper legal acknow- 
 ledgment, with which they had come prepared. 
 But it seemed to him a poor equivalent. 
 
 When they had received the money they went 
 their way, and Simeon, not crossing his threshold 
 with them, remained behind looking at the paper, 
 first on one side, then on the other, and reading it 
 over and over again. It was all right. But still he 
 was not satisfied, nor did it seem hardly worth while 
 locking up the chest upon it, now that it no longer 
 contained the long-hoarded money. Nevertheless, 
 old habit was strong and pleasant, and recollecting 
 that the chest would contain, in a v/hile, the deeds 
 
138 THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 
 
 of the new purchases, and that the incoming rent 
 year by year would, as Mabnsey Edwards said, in a 
 few years make up the whole sum as well as pay off 
 the mortgage, he put the key again in his pocket 
 as a thing of value, returned the chest again to its 
 hiding-place, and went back to his potato digging. 
 But his mind was strangely agitated and upset, and 
 he had no longer any relish for his work. 
 
 Let any man, be he as sanguine a speculator as 
 he may, risk his last hundred thousand, and we may 
 excuse him being anxious and irritable, and in no 
 humour that night to accompany his wife and 
 daughter to the opera, even though a Jenny Lind 
 were to sing. So with poor Simeon Hughes; his 
 two hundred guineas were as much to him as the 
 modern speculator's hundred thousand, and he had 
 no longer any pleasure in his potatoes, though the 
 abundant crop had given him much satisfaction 
 only two hours before. He could not dig up an- 
 other root. He stuck his fork energetically into 
 the ground, saying, 
 
 '• If they had asked me to cut off my right hand 
 I should as soon have thousrht of doinsr it.'' 
 
 . He ate his dinner without a word. His sister 
 wondered what was amiss with him, but she made 
 no inquiries, and as soon as the meal was over, 
 again taking the receipt from the chest, he walked 
 down to Dol-y-maenan intending to see Grono ; to 
 undo what had already been done, and prepared, if 
 no other means could be devised, to give up the 
 purchase of Caergwyn even at a loss. An unaccount- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGAVYX. 13^ 
 
 able burden and depression was on his mind, like 
 a foreboding of coming evil^ and he hurried along 
 impatient to get things restored to their former 
 state. 
 
 It had been a dry, fine autumn, and there was 
 but little water in the Afon, therefore no work was 
 doing at the mill, and the old miller was sitting 
 lazily on the grey stone steps of the mill talking 
 with poor old Owen Lewis, who was a cripple with 
 rheumatism, and walked with two sticks, as Simeon 
 came up. 
 
 By this time everybody knew the great event of 
 the day ; Simeon Hughes was going to buy the 
 whole property of Caergwyn, and Grono Yaughan 
 and the lawyer had been up to Fridd-bach to fetch 
 the money ! The miller congratulated him on his 
 purchase, saying that Caergwyn was good land, and 
 he had heard that Lord Newborough had spoken of 
 it as " the prettiest farm in Caernarvonshire." Then 
 poor old Owen Lewis began : Could not Simeon let 
 him live in the cottage at Caergwyn ? It was a 
 poor, tumble-down place, to be sure, but it was 
 better than the hovel he lived in behind the mill, 
 where he suffered so much in the winter from the 
 cold, and as Caleb — that was his son, an idiot lad — 
 did little jobs of work at Glanrafon, it would be 
 nearer for him. Would not Simeon promise him 
 this? 
 
 Simeon found himself a man of consequence, 
 and people asking favours from him. Several Dol- 
 y-maenan men who were getting their potatoes from 
 
40 TKE COST OF CAERGWYX. 
 
 their little iuclosures on tlie stony bed of the river, 
 hearing the three talking together, left their work 
 and came up also. 
 
 Simeon had long been known as a careful, saving 
 man, but none had given him credit for an amount 
 of wealth equal to that which the power of making 
 one purchase after another implied. They treated 
 him with unusual deference, and spoke of Caergwyn 
 as an estate of srreat value. An endless amount of 
 money, according to their estimate, had in former 
 times been spent upon it, and now with Grono's 
 manasrement, for it was known also that he was to 
 be the tenant, it would be a fine property for any- 
 body. The general sentiment, therefore, as regarded 
 the purchase was of the most favourable and en- 
 couraging character. 
 
 All this was balm to poor, anxious Simeon. He 
 felt all at once as if his eyes were only just now 
 opened to the full value of the enterprise. Every- 
 thing began to assume a different aspect, and when 
 poor, decrepit Owen Lewis, who had now seated 
 himself on a large stone under the mill wall, 
 lifted up his thin haggard face and repeated with 
 great humility his request to live in Caergwyn 
 cottage, Simeon undertook to speak to Grono 
 Vaughan on the subject ; and in very much better 
 spirits, and with a much higher opinion of his 
 purchase, he went on to Glanrafon. 
 
 In the kitchen he found Grono and Malmsey 
 Edwards drinking brandy-and- water together, with 
 the map of the Caergwyn property and various other 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 141 
 
 papers relating to the purchase lying on the table. 
 They received Simeon with the greatest cordiality. 
 He took his glass of brandy- and-water with them, and 
 the whole business was again talked over ; the yearly 
 rent fixed upon which Grono was to pay, a certain 
 amount being deducted from each payment for 
 interest of the mortgage and the gradual paying it 
 oiF. Nothing could be more straightforward ; and 
 Simeon, in his anxiety to do justice to both his 
 children, and to secure to each their separate ad- 
 vantages, gave orders to Malmsey Edwards to pro- 
 ceed with the necessary deeds without loss of time, — 
 for this part of the lawyer's business as regarded the 
 first purchase was yet unaccomplished, — and as to 
 the want of title for Caergwyn, Malmsey Edwards 
 assured him that whatever the Wrexham shopkeeper 
 might suppose, the deed would be forthcoming at the 
 right time. 
 
 These important details being thus satisfactorily 
 settled, Simeon returned home, feeling no little 
 ashamed when he reached the miserable hovel of 
 poor old Owen Lewis, to find him sitting on a 
 broken chair outside his door waiting for his return, 
 and he had forgotten to say a word to his friend 
 Grono about the poor man's wish to live at Caer- 
 gwyn. 
 
 The following day Simeon recommenced his 
 potato-getting, and his little son, again helping him, 
 learned from his father that he had purchased Caer- 
 gwyn as well as Morfa glas, and that if he were a 
 good boy he should leave it all to him. 
 
142 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 Laura was as much pleased as lanto. But she 
 did not know that her own mother's little inheritance 
 and savings had gone in part to complete the pur- 
 chase ; nor if she had would she have thought it 
 wrong, for her father, as the owner of so much land, 
 as she had heard Gwen Thomas and her aunt say, 
 would he a richer man than Grono Vaughan, and 
 this comparative advancement of her family was not 
 without its interest to Laura. 
 
 And all would have been very satisfactory to 
 Simeon if he could have forgotten that there was a 
 mortQ:a2:e on his own little freehold, and that Laura 
 had as yet no dowry. But when Christmas came 
 and Grono punctually paid his rent, and Simeon 
 remembered that every quarter would bring the 
 same, and in a few years not only clear off all en- 
 cumbrance but become real gain, he was reconciled 
 to the present state of things, and looked forward to 
 the future even with self-satisfaction. 
 
 Winter had come and was now gone, yet still 
 poor Owen Lewis lived in the hovel behind the 
 mill, for Grono had put another man into the cot- 
 tage at Caergwyn, and Caleb's services were of so 
 little value that he was not worth considering. 
 
143 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The business transactions which took place 
 between Friclcl-bach and Glanrafon led to con- 
 siderable intercourse between the two families, 
 though Lisabeth after Susannah's disgrace had held 
 herself aloof and discountenanced any intimacy be- 
 tween Laura and her daughters, preferring for them 
 the acquaintance of Anna Rambouillet, the young- 
 lady of Birllan-deg. But if Lisabeth Vaughan 
 could control her daughters she had no power over 
 her son. 
 
 Frees was now nineteen, a handsome, graceless 
 youth, who having as a boy imitated the ways of 
 men, now assumed to be a man on his own account ; 
 swaggered and drank, and was willing to be taken 
 for worse even than he was. 
 
 As children, Laura and he had been good friends, 
 enjoying together the pleasures and employments 
 of their age. They had played on the shore at 
 ebb-tide, walking with bare feet into the shallow 
 water, letting the incoming tide rise to their ancles 
 and then running on till it again overtook them. 
 
144 THE COST OF CAEK.GWYN. 
 
 They had gathered bilberries together at Moel 
 lAjs, and blackberries in the woodlands on the 
 Tanrallt side of Pentaren. To these pleasant, 
 childish days came to Laura's experience a time of 
 disappointment and mortification, when the boy 
 disregarded her, and would have been ashamed of 
 going with her and the other children to Moel Llys ; 
 hardly spoke to her when they met, or winked, 
 which was still more offensive, assuming a rakish air, 
 which made her ashamed both for him and herself. 
 Nevertheless, she could not forget one little incident 
 belonging to this period, which showed him to be 
 both manly and generous, though it brought with it 
 a result which caused her afterwards many blushes. 
 Of this I shall speak presently, but first of the 
 incident itself, which knit her girlish heart to the lad 
 with a sentiment of affectionate gratitude. 
 
 She was sitting one day on the fallen stone of an 
 old wall on the hill-side, with her little brother fast 
 asleep on her lap, when two lads came down the 
 mountain, one a Dol-y-maenan lad, the other Frees 
 Yaughan. Seeing her, they stopped and began to 
 talk with her, when presently the Dol-y-maenan lad 
 said he would have a kiss, on which she held her 
 head so closely down to her breast that he could not 
 reach her lips. She would have run away had it not 
 been for the sleeping child on her lap ; as it was, she 
 thus defended herself. 
 
 The boy, so far defeated of his object, gave her a 
 violent blow on the cheek which instantly raised her 
 head, when he snatched the kiss, laughing, and 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 145 
 
 saying that he knew how to manage a girl. Laura, 
 hurt by the blow, but tenfold hurt by the brutal 
 and cowardly insult, burst into tears, and Frees, en- 
 raged at the unmanliness of his companion, flew at 
 him and gave him a blow which knocked him down. 
 The boy, on his feet again in an instant, sprang 
 in his turn on Frees, and the two fought desper- 
 ately, till, finding Frees more than a match for 
 him, he scowled on him and walked oflP. Frees 
 followed without stopping to receive Laura's thanks 
 or the expression of her anxiety on his account. 
 
 What a gallant young hero he was in her eyes ! 
 She could not lose the remembrance of his manly 
 conduct ; and the next time she saw him was again, 
 on the mountain, just below the pastures, where he 
 had been sent to look after the cows. Laura thrilled 
 to the very soles of her feet at the sight of him, and 
 was crimson with blushes of delight and shy bash- 
 fulness. Frees came walking towards her like a 
 conqueror. 
 
 " Oh, Frees, I never thanked you ! I know 
 you were hurt, and I have thought of it ever 
 since ! " 
 
 '•Hurt!" exclaimed Frees, as if indignant at 
 the idea, '^ I should like to see the lad that could 
 hurt me ! I am more than a match for any of them, 
 especially when a girl's in the case. I'll never see 
 a girl insulted ! " 
 
 And as he said this he drew himself up, Laura 
 thought, like a hero of the true Cymri. She looked 
 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
146 THE COST OF CAERGWY^'. 
 
 admiringly on him, smiled, and blushed to her very- 
 hair. 
 
 *' But, Laura, you'll give me a kiss, won't you?" 
 said he, advancing towards her with the familiarity 
 of their old childish days. 
 
 She lifted her eyes, blushing a still deeper 
 crimson, and smiled her consent. His lips touched 
 hers, and she gave him in return a warm willing 
 kiss, in which was her w^hole, innocent heart. 
 
 *' I could not do otherwise," argued she with her- 
 self, the moment afterwards when Frees, pleased and 
 flattered, went on his way towards the village, whist- 
 ling after him his dog Perra. 
 
 This it was, and the fear that she had overstep- 
 ped maidenly modesty, the constant theme of her 
 good aunt's injunction, which for long afterwards, 
 for months and years almost, made her shrink into 
 herself annoyed and ashamed whenever the thought 
 recurred to her. 
 
 " And yet there was no harm in it," argued 
 she, " it was only gratitude ! " 
 
 And the little seed of gratitude grew up into a 
 real j^lant of love ; grew up like the mustard seed 
 into a mighty tree, in the branches of which the 
 birds, the hopes and anticipations of her young 
 heart, built their nests. And thus through the after- 
 years of good Silence Evans' sober rule in the 
 house, through the increasing intimacy and confi- 
 dence between her father and the father of Prees, 
 this young aiFection, this first girlish love, reigned 
 pre-eminent in her heart. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 147 
 
 Frees, wlio had grown tall and very handsome, 
 seemed bent only on distinguishing himself as a sower 
 of wild oats, and the tight rule which his father held 
 over him kept him in a state of restive opposition 
 rather than turned him from the course into which it 
 was his impulse to run. He was a great frequenter of 
 fairs and holiday-makings, and when he was nineteen, 
 the time at which our story opens, he was considered 
 to cut a very dashing figure in his short bottle-green 
 coat, yellow waistcoat, and top-boots. Many people 
 wondered where the money came from with which 
 Frees dressed so grandly and could spend so freely. 
 But then the Vaughans, it was said, were getting up 
 in the world ; the mother appeared at church in a 
 black silk bonnet, trimmed with real lace, and the 
 girls for the last year had been at " boarding school" 
 at Bangor. 
 
 But whilst Frees had thus been transforming 
 himself into a gay butterfly, Laura also had been 
 under a process of transformation. She was now the 
 bright and attractive girl which we saw waiting for 
 the truant lanto, on the mountain- side, when, silenced 
 by the glance of Frees, she drew down upon herself 
 the denunciations of Fichard Rowlands. Laura 
 with her perfect health, her beaming good humour, 
 and beautiful eyes, was as pleasant a sight as you 
 could meet with on a spring morning ; herself an 
 embodiment of spring. She was harmoniously 
 made, and all her actions were free and graceful ; 
 tall of her age, and promising to be taller, for she 
 had that elasticity of limb which belongs, whether 
 
148 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 in man or animal, to vigorous growth. And the 
 same girlish love and gratitude which had made her 
 give the boy the willing kiss, grew ever warmer and 
 truer, if shyer and deeper, within her heart's core as 
 year was added to year of her age. Many a time, 
 it is true, even after his brave championship, had 
 Prees bitterly wounded her, marched past her in 
 Dol-y-maenan street with a swagger and a strut and 
 his hat set on one side ; now and then too she had 
 seen him in a state of half-intoxication, and many a 
 time the secret fear stole to her heart that he would 
 grow into an unsteady man. But for all that, she 
 loved him. Deep down in the innermost sanctuary 
 of her heart was the little shrine in which stood the 
 image of Prees ; deep down in the fairy-land of her 
 fancy lay a garden of roses all dewy and fragrant, 
 and these emblemed her secret love and filled her 
 soul with an endless freshness and delight. 
 
 In the early spring of the year in which our 
 story commences the good Silence Evans died, and 
 was missed far more than Susannah had ever been, 
 although the active, clever Laura was equal to 
 the management of the small household. lanto 
 could now read, and was learning, as his sister 
 had done in former years, long passages and chap- 
 ters of Scripture. His father also was teaching 
 him, in the evening, to write, an accomplishment 
 which had not been thought necessary for Laura, 
 but which she soon, of her own will, acquired at the 
 same time with her brother. 
 
149 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It was not till Laura was turned fifteen that her 
 father thought seriously of her being confirmed. 
 This rite of the Church was performed very laxly, 
 and at remote and uncertain periods, at this time in 
 Wales. Mr Edward Edwards did not trouble him- 
 self with such cares. But as Simeon saw his daugh- 
 ter growing tall and womanly, the subject pressed 
 upon his mind with increasing importance. The 
 present Bishop of Bangor, ambitious of a higher epis- 
 copate, as was supposed, found himself animated by 
 great zeal for the Church, and announced this autumn 
 his intention of administering the rite of Confirmation 
 during the following summer to the young people of 
 his diocese, and the rector of Dol-y-maenan, like the 
 other clergy, was admonished duly to prepare the 
 catechumens within his parish. 
 
 Simeon, who desired to see the Divine Hand 
 operating in all that concerned himself, even to the 
 smallest event, equivalent to the counting of the hairs 
 -of his head_, was willing to believe this confirmation- 
 
150 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 movement an answer to his prayers. He had akeady 
 talked the subject over with the Glanrafon parents, 
 and it was agreed that Prees, as well as his sisters, 
 should receive the benefit of this religious rite at 
 the same time, more especially as Grono brought 
 word from Birllan-deg that the Bishop's intention 
 had given great satisfaction there, and that Anna 
 ivambouillet would be also a candidate for con- 
 firmation. 
 
 During the following sj)ring the Bishop an- 
 nounced that the sacred rite would be performed after 
 midsummer, some time probably in the month of 
 July, and the preparation of the catechumens was to 
 begin in the Dol-y-maenan parish about Whitsuntide, 
 which this year fell rather late in May. Accord- 
 ingly it was appointed that the young candidates 
 belono^incr to the flock of the Rev. Edward Edwards 
 should present themselves on the Tuesday of Whit- 
 sun-week at his house for examination, in anticipation 
 of which Mrs Vaughan, on the preceding Thursday, 
 sent up a present to the rector's wife of a couple of 
 fine fowls and a ham of her own curing, for her 
 daughters were at home, in consequence of the half- 
 quarter, and they and their brother were amongst 
 the catechumens. ' 
 
 The number of catechumens from the Dol-y- 
 maenan parish, which was a large one, was consider- 
 able, and Laura, who had been seriously imjDressed 
 by her father with the importance and sanctity of the 
 rite, and prepared by him already for the rector's 
 examination, endeavoured with an earnest sincerit}- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 151 
 
 of heart to enter into the sacred work of dedication, 
 as into the visible presence of God. 
 
 It was generally known before the actual time 
 arrived who the candidates for confirmation were, 
 hence Richard Rowlands' reproof to Frees, *^ You 
 that are about to be confirmed ! " when he de- 
 nounced the sin into which the boy lanto had been 
 seduced by him. That incident, seconded by her 
 father's affection that same night, by his prayer and 
 his blessing, made a very deep impression on Laura, 
 and she vowed with herself, as we know, henceforth 
 to be a dutiful daughter, more dutiful than she 
 had ever been before. When, therefore, the daily 
 prayer, morning and night, made frequent reference 
 to the holy confirmation of her heart and life to the 
 faith of Christ and obedience to the Holy Spirit, 
 Laura, with her simple, ardent nature gave herself 
 up to the Divine teaching, willing, as she believed, to 
 sacrifice everything for the love of the Saviour and 
 the life in Him ; hence also, as the best earnest of 
 her sincerity, she resolved not to think of Frees, and 
 above all things to avoid meeting with him. 
 
 The Whit- Tuesday on which the young catechu- 
 mens were to assemble at the rector's was like a 
 regular April day, with pouring showers and inter- 
 vening gushes of warm sunshine. The rector lived 
 at a small house on the hills beyond Moel Eledyr, 
 at the opposite end of the parish, a three-miles 
 walk from Dol-y-maenan. Nevertheless away trooped 
 the young people from the village and the scattered 
 homesteads on the hills, and when they reached the 
 
152 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 rectory, all of tliem draggled and many of them 
 half wet through, it was the great month's washing 
 day there, and the kitchen, which was the reverend 
 gentleman's parlour, study, and all, was full of steam- 
 ing clothes ! No good, therefore, was done that 
 day, and the young catechumens, probably very well 
 pleased, were dismissed ^'till next time," many of 
 them glad that the first examination was thus easily 
 got over. 
 
 The next appointed day, a fortnight later, was 
 excellent as to weather, but the rector having been 
 at a funeral the preceding day, at the opposite end 
 of his parish, where plenty of good cheer was cir- 
 culated amongst the sorrowing friends of the de- 
 parted, had been brought home only that morning 
 by no means in a condition to perform any sacred 
 duty, not having yet slept off the effects of the late 
 evening carouse. 
 
 This never would do, concluded Mrs Edwards, 
 who was often called the reverend, and who, in fact, 
 was more deserving of the title than her husband. 
 Those delinquencies would come to the Bishop's 
 ears, and her husband would have his gown stripped 
 off, for the right reverend father had begun a 
 more rigid system even with his clergy, being de- 
 termined to prevent the spread of Methodism by 
 opposing to it the very weapons of its success, the 
 good lives and zeal of the ministers of the Gospel. 
 
 The walk to the rector's this morning was 
 delightful to the whole tribe of young villagers 
 and mountain-dwellers, and the return would be 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 153 
 
 even more so, for they had not the dread and 
 anxiety of the examination before them ; all, there- 
 fore, as by general consent, determined on making 
 it a holiday. 
 
 Laura, in the sincerely earnest wish of her soul to 
 make this confirmation a true alliance of her heart 
 to God, had on the former occasion carefully avoided 
 falling in with Frees and his sisters, who were duly 
 there, like every one else, in their Sunday best, 
 though the town-made dresses and bonnets of the 
 Glanrafon girls were objects of astonishment and 
 ridicule. Laura saw them amidst the crowd in the 
 kitchen, and was struck by the great change in their 
 appearance. They seemed to have grown so much 
 taller and slimmer ; their complexions, too, looked so 
 fair from constantly wearing bonnets ; they were 
 very beautiful, she thought, and looked very much 
 like the ladies she occasionally saw driving in the 
 Penrhyn carriage, or like the young, fair Anna Ram- 
 bouillet of Birllan-deg. Laura, however, avoided 
 them, and returned home with all her good resolu- 
 tions unbroken. 
 
 It was the custom at Dol-y-maenan, as in all 
 country places, in those days, to ridicule town 
 manners and fashions. When therefore a second 
 unavailing visit had been made to the rector's house 
 by the main body of the catechumens, who had waited 
 outside the gate till a sufficient number had arrived 
 to enter the house in full force, and again had been 
 dismissed as on the former occasion, one and all 
 issued forth pell-mell from the gate, pleased with 
 
154 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 this second release on a fine day, and now ready for 
 any frolic. It was at this moment that Prees, in his 
 bottle-green coat, yellow waistcoat, fine breast-pin, 
 and top-boots, accompanied by his sisters in their still 
 more remarkable attire of extremely scanty dresses, 
 morocco slippers, sandalled ancles, and Leghorn 
 bonnets, made their appearance, and were received 
 by a general shout of laughter and derision. 
 
 Laura, on being dismissed from the rector's, 
 walked away demurely with two or three Dol-y- 
 maenan girls, and met the trio from Glanrafon 
 before they were seen by the main body. She 
 did not speak to them, but merely smiled in a 
 sedate manner at Prees, and blushed at what seemed 
 to her the somewhat immodest costume of his sisters ; 
 hearing, however, the next moment the loud laughter 
 and derision with which they were received by the 
 others. As, however, Prees, it was well known, was 
 a lad who could not be affronted Avith impunity, such 
 portion of the youthful crowd as were ringleaders in 
 the ridicule soon disappeared, and the rest con- 
 tented themselves with laughing one to another and 
 criticising the fine airs and graces of the girls, who 
 now quite cast their brother into the shade. 
 
 In the mean time Laura went on with her friends, 
 and after a walk of about a mile over the hills, the 
 air fragrant with the sunny gorse blossom and 
 quivering with the jubilant song of larks, they sate 
 down on the scanty turf, not so much to rest, for 
 they were some of them tired, as to enjoy the de- 
 licious air and the freshness of the scene. Whilst 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 155 
 
 thus sitting, tliey saw Frees and his sisters also de- 
 scending the same slope, and evidently aiming at the 
 same spot. Before they came up, however, Laura 
 and her friends rose, as if out of deference to leave 
 the hill-side free to .them, but instead of stopping. 
 Frees and his sisters joined and walked on with 
 them. Not a word however was spoken for some 
 time even by the usually talkative Frees. Laura 
 glanced at the girls and thought again that they 
 had grown very handsome. Frees had a switch in 
 his hand, he mostly carried one, and amused himself 
 by cutting off the heads of the little blue mountain 
 scabious, which grew scattering over the hill-side 
 where there was no gorse. His sisters now and then 
 spoke to each other in English, which was one of 
 their Bangor accomplishments. 
 
 " Let's go on ! I hate such stuck-up pride ! " 
 whispered young Gwen Thomas, old Gwen's grand- 
 daughter. 
 
 Laura not immediately seconding her words, 
 Gwen and the other girls set off running, and Laura, 
 now perhaps under the fascination of Frees, remained 
 behind. 
 
 " How tall you're grown, Laura," said Nesta, 
 Prees's younger sister, turning to her as soon as the 
 others were gone, " and you're really very pretty ! " 
 
 " I told you so," said Frees. 
 
 " And I never saw any one grown as you and 
 IMegan are ! " returned Laura, gratified to find that 
 Frees had spoken so favourably of her to his sisters^ 
 and wishing to say how handsome she thought 
 
156 THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 
 
 tliem, but not quite likely to do so after Nesta's 
 remark. 
 
 *' But I'm the tallest ! " said Megan. 
 
 " No, Laura is taller than you by half the head ! " 
 persisted Nesta. 
 
 With that they stopped to measure heights ; 
 Laura and Megan standing bare-headed shoulder to 
 shoulder and Frees being the adjudicator. 
 
 Megan was the tallest ; Nesta and Laura were 
 exactly the same height. 
 
 It is wonderful what good friends they seemed 
 to be all at once. They now therefore sate down on 
 the hill-side, where the petty-whin was in golden 
 bloom, and listened to the short snapping cry of the 
 stone- chat on the grey masses of rock which cropped 
 out of the hill-side. 
 
 The scanty dresses of the Glanrafon girls left 
 their feet visible, and Laura looked with wonder at 
 the smart morocco slippers with their ribbon sandals 
 and fine white wove cotton stockings, so different to 
 her own coarse, heavy shoes and worsted stockings of 
 her mother's knitting, which however were her best, 
 and usually worn only on a Sunday. Frees laughed 
 at his sisters' feet ; and from talking of their town- 
 made slippers and woven stockings, they next talked 
 of dancing, for Megan and Nesta now took dancing 
 lessons, and they described the delight of it with 
 unbounded rapture. Laura could not help listening 
 with great interest, though she had an internal feel- 
 ing that now at least, whilst she and they were 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 157 
 
 preparing for confirmation, it was better not to talk 
 on such subjects, even if dancing were good to talk 
 of at any time, for her father was almost as strict as 
 old Matthias Rowlands, or any other Methodist, on 
 the subject of dancing, which he said was " the road 
 to hell." 
 
 Laura wished to change the subject, and turning 
 to Nesta, who had not yet put on her bonnet again, 
 she exclaimed in genuine admiration as she saw the 
 sunlight reflected in Nesta's golden-brown curls : 
 
 " How beautiful your hair is ! " 
 
 *^ I don't like curls," said Megan, again taking 
 oflf her bonnet, " I wear my hair differently." 
 
 Megan's hair was black. She was very like 
 her father, and inherited his black hair and eyes and 
 somewhat sallow complexion. Nesta and Frees 
 resembled their mother, who prided herself on being 
 one of the " fair women ^' of Merionethshire. 
 
 " Yes, your hair is very nice," said Laura, " but 
 Nesta's is so golden in the sunshine." 
 
 Megan looked angry, and tied on her bonnet 
 again. 
 
 " My hair," exclaimed Nesta, merrily, " is a 
 legacy which Queen Guenever left me when they 
 opened her tomb in the Isle of Avalon." 
 
 Frees and Laura laughed. 
 
 " Did you never hear of Queen Guenever,^ 
 Laura ? " asked Nesta. '' What I tell you is quite 
 true, she left me her hair." 
 
 *' Well, it is very beautiful hair," returned 
 
158 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 Laura, thinkincj that never in all her life had she 
 seen anybody so lovely as Nesta. They then all 
 rose, and walked on together again. 
 
 But the charm of their walking on together was 
 presently spoiled by the two sisters again talking 
 English between themselves ; nor did they now 
 seem in good humour. Frees also spoke a little 
 English, all three, it must be confessed, very im- 
 perfectly ; nevertheless it was an unknown tongue 
 to Laura, and it seemed purposely to exclude her 
 from the conversation. The end of it was that 
 Frees quarrelled with his sisters either about their 
 speaking English or something else, and Laura felt 
 very uncomfortable, and wished herself away with 
 Gwen Thomas and the others. 
 
 They had been on the high road for the last 
 quarter of a mile, and now coming to the lane that 
 led down to Caergwyn, saw midway between them 
 and the cottage the open carriage from Birllan-deg, 
 in which were Mr Rutherford and his young grand- 
 daughter, Anna Rambouillet, talking with Gfrono 
 Vaughan. 
 
 At sight of them Megan and Nesta were much 
 pleased, and now speaking Welsh said they wanted 
 to go there, and perhaps Mr Rutherford would drive 
 them home, and they wanted to see if Anna Ram- 
 bouillet had anything new on; for all her clothes 
 came from Chester, which was a sort of metropolis of 
 North Wales \ and they were always quite in the 
 fashion. 
 
 Laura had some little pride in Caergwyn being 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 159 
 
 her father's property. She had been with him there 
 many times during the last few years to see how the 
 crops were, and what prospect there was of the pur- 
 chase turning out welL But before she had given 
 any evidence to her companions of an intention to 
 accompany them, they both stopped, and Megan said : 
 
 " Good-bye, Laura; there's no need for you to go 
 with us. You don't know Miss Eambouillet." 
 
 "I'm not coming! I don't want to see Miss 
 Rambouillet; I can go to Caergwyn whenever I like," 
 returned Laura, in a tone of quick vexation ; adding 
 as she turned away, loud enough for them to hear, 
 •^ Caergwyn belongs to my father though ! " 
 
 Really ruffled in temper, and feeling, as her con- 
 science told her, very wicked and very unfit for con- 
 firmation, Laura walked rapidly on, turning out of the 
 high road at the foot of Moel Eledyr, intending to 
 miss Dol-y-maenan, and to return home, in fact, by 
 -the path on the left side of the stream, by which her 
 father, at the time of his sorrows, had gone to his 
 mowing. She descended the soft, velvety lower slope 
 of Moel Eledyr, where the village-boys had their slide 
 on the dry turf, to the head of the green rampart, and 
 so came down into the valley. 
 
 She was slowly ascending the solitary, wooded 
 path by the river, trying to bring back her feelings 
 into harmony and peace, when she heard a quick 
 footstep behind her, and turning round was startled 
 by the sight of Frees. 
 
 There was no denying that this was a pleasant 
 surprise. 
 
160 THE COST OF CAEHGWYN. 
 
 " Where are you going, Prees ? " asked she. 
 
 '^ I'm going nowhere/' returned he, "I only came 
 to walk with you. And^I'm so vexed with Megan and 
 Nesta ; they're so stuck-up with their Bangor school- 
 ing." 
 
 " Oh never mind that ! " said Laura, forgetting 
 that she herself had been angry only a minute be- 
 fore, and now feeling as if nothing could ever make 
 her angry again, " they did not mean any harm." 
 
 " And I want a little talk with you, Laura ; I want 
 to tell you something," said he. 
 
 Laura did not look at him ; she cast down her 
 eyes, and spite of herself blushed very crimson. 
 
 '^ I am going to turn over a new leaf," said Prees, 
 speaking more seriously than was his wont. 
 
 " I am so glad ! let it be a good leaf, Prees, and 
 never set lanto to mock father again ! '^ said she, the 
 tears starting to her eyes. " Oh, you don't know 
 how unhappy that made me ! and father is so 
 good ! " 
 
 " Well, I'm not going to ! " returned he, rather 
 impatiently. " But I'm not going to be confirmed, 
 Laura ; I wanted to tell you so.^' 
 
 ^* Oh, Prees ! " exclaimed she, shocked at this 
 declaration, '' and why not? " 
 
 " I'm not going to be confirmed," repeated he, 
 "nor examined either by that drunken pig of a 
 parson ! What's the use of it ? My father never was 
 confirmed ! he says so himself; he's none the worse 
 for it ! Was yours ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, surely," said Laura, in her strong 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 161 
 
 Welsh affirmative, " and don't say. Frees, that you 
 won't be confirmed ! " 
 
 " Well, what's the use of it ? " asked the lad. 
 
 *^ There is great use in it, father says," replied she 
 meekly, " we can hardly be Christians without. We 
 learn our Christian duty in the catechism and the 
 Lord's Prayer and the Ten Commandments." 
 
 " But the Ten Commandments are Jewish," in- 
 terrupted he, thinking that in this he had a strong 
 argument, ** and we are not Jews." 
 
 ^' And then," continued she, not heeding his 
 interruption, " the Bishop confirms this holy faith in 
 us by the laying on of his hands, like the apostles, 
 and blessing us. And oh. Frees," added she, wax- 
 ing warm, and with tears again in her eyes, *^do 
 let the Bishop lay his hands on you, that you may 
 receive the Holy Ghost ! I do so long for him to lay 
 his hands on my head ; I do so long to love the Lord 
 Jesus more and to serve Him better — and we shall 
 if the Holy Ghost is in us. Father says so ; and he 
 knows that confirmation will do all this for us, if we 
 only prepare for it properly and go to it in the right 
 spirit." 
 
 '^ Why, you are a regular preacher ! and you 
 don't want confirmation," exclaimed Frees, who had 
 been admiring the girl's rosy lips and eloquent eyes 
 whilst thus speaking. 
 
 Laura felt strangely confounded. A moment be- 
 fore, and her soul was a prayer for the influence of the 
 Holy Ghost, which, as she believed, she should receive 
 
 VOL. I. 11 
 
162 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 from the hand of the Bishop ; now she was suddenly 
 plucked back to earth. 
 
 " Do you remember giving me a kiss on the hill 
 yonder, years ago ? " asked Frees. Laura blushed up 
 to her hair ; for she remembered that kiss only too 
 well. 
 
 " And you'll give me another, won't you ? " con- 
 tinued he, suiting the action to the words, and snatch- 
 ing one from the lips which seemed to him so beautiful. 
 
 Laura burst into tears, sobbing, " Oh, Frees, why 
 did you do so ? " 
 
 " Because I love you, Laura ! and always have 
 loved you, and always shall ! And if you'll be faithful 
 to me, I'll be faithful to you, and so help me God ! " 
 exclaimed Frees, almost as excited as Laura herself. 
 
 Frees held both her hands in his and looked into 
 her face ; she stood with her eyes again cast down and 
 crimson as a rose, her whole being a whirl of delight 
 and love which thrilled to her finger-ends. 
 
 " Now tell me, Laura, that you love me ! " said 
 Frees. 
 
 Laura could not speak, she could not raise her 
 eyelids, and yet her entirest heart answered yes, a 
 thousand times. 
 
 Again he kissed her, and again he vowed with an 
 extravagant oath to love her, to be faithful to her 
 for ever — " in life and in death to love her for ever! " 
 
 And so they sauntered up that left bank of the 
 Afon together, through the thick June woods of oak 
 and alder, with the thrushes singing above them, and 
 the deep roar of the waters, which now fell heavy over 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 163 
 
 their rugged bed, and formed a low cadence like the 
 undertone of every other sound. But they heard 
 nothing and saw nothing, conscious only of a great new 
 joy which had burst forth into spring-life and filled 
 their entire being. 
 
 Nevertheless this v/as to be a secret between them. 
 Laura no more than Frees was prepared to make it 
 known beyond her own bosom. She had, she knew 
 not why, an instinctive sense that her father might 
 disapprove of it ; at all events, whilst her mind ought 
 to be occupied by far other thoughts. Therefore it 
 was received into each heart as a deep secret. 
 
 "You love me, and I love you ! You be faithful 
 to me as long as you live, and I will be faithful to 
 you as long as I draw mortal breath — as long as the 
 world stands, as long as there is a God in heaven ! " 
 exclaimed Frees, with all the solemnity of an oath, 
 whilst his handsome countenance was almost pale 
 with the excess of feeling ; and from her deepest soul 
 Laura said. Amen. 
 
 Such was the mutual vow of Frees Vaughan 
 and Laura Hughes, as they stood amidst the chaos of 
 broken rocks, under the giant cairn of Bedd-Odo, 
 with kisses of youthful love, he, a lad of nineteen, 
 and she three years younger. After this not another 
 word was said about the confirmation. 
 
 Frees returned to Glanrafon, and Laura carried 
 again to her father the grievous news of the rector's 
 defection. 
 
 The whole parish soon knew how unfit the rever- 
 end Edward Edwards was to perform his duty to the 
 
164 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 catechumens, and many, who like Frees were inde- 
 pendent of parental authority, gave up all thoughts 
 of confirmation. It was a difficult thing for any to 
 believe in the efficacy of a rite the preparatory steps 
 for which had to be taken by their drunken rector. 
 The itinerant preachers, Matthias Rowlands and his 
 brethren, made large capital out of it, to use a modern 
 phrase, and never had the Dol-y-maenan rector been 
 exhibited more thoroughly as the blind guide of his 
 parish than now. 
 
 In this dilemma it occurred to Simeon Hughes to 
 receive the young catechumens himself in the church, 
 and prepare them there for the sacred rite. But he 
 hesitated for some little time in his humility as lay- 
 man, lest he should sin, or offisnd against the Church, 
 by assuming, as it were, the priestly office, lest like 
 Uzzah of old, laying his hand on the ark, he should 
 call down upon himself the anger of God. He went 
 down therefore to Glanrafon to consult his friend 
 Grono on the subject; but both Grono and Lisabeth 
 declined to give an opinion. Megan and Nesta, they 
 said, had been invited by Mr Rutherford to par- 
 take of the instruction given to his granddaughter, 
 by the superior clergyman of Tanrallt-vawr, at Birl- 
 lan-deg, and if Frees did not choose to go with them 
 they must think of some other plan for him. They 
 had done their duty, to their own children at all 
 events, and not even as churchwarden could Grono 
 advise the clerk what course it was best for him to 
 take in the matter. 
 
 Simeon's mind gradually decided for itself. A small 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 165 
 
 class, thougli all of the poorer sort, were earnest for 
 religious instruction and edification ; lie tlierefore de- 
 termined to constitute himself their spiritual guide, 
 provided only he could obtain the consent and ap- 
 proval of the rector ; for he had great respect for the 
 office of parochial pastor, whatever might be the 
 private character of the man. 
 
 Simeon found the rector early in the afternoon 
 between drunk and sober, in his large barn, dressing 
 some sheep for the rot. 
 
 He laughed, and said nobody could say but he 
 was a good shepherd, and took care of his ilock. 
 Simeon thought this was making a jest of holy things, 
 and seriously set before him the subject of the neglect- 
 ed catechumens, humbly submitting his own willing- 
 ness to take the duty of their preparation off his hands, 
 if it were not unseemly as regarded the reverence due 
 to the Church. 
 
 '' You're any time a better parson than I, Simeon," 
 he replied, " and do more credit to the cloth. We'll 
 change places any day. You in the pulpit, and I in 
 the desk, we should be all right." 
 
 Simeon suggested how the Bishop might possibly 
 regard his interference. 
 
 " The Bishop won't trouble himself about it," 
 returned the careless rector. " He will never ask who 
 pre^Dared the catechumens." 
 
 The Kev. Mrs Edwards, who was then mounting 
 her horse at the horse-block by the barn-door, about 
 to ride to the Dol-y-maenan mill to scold the miller 
 for the undue toll he had taken from the last corn he 
 
166 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 ground, and hearing the conversation between her 
 husband and the clerk, settled the matter by saying, 
 Simeon must undertake the class, and she herself 
 would go down and see them examined, if she could 
 find the time. 
 
 Thus Simeon obtained consent, and at once set 
 about his self-imposed duties, with a deeper convic- 
 tion of their sacredness than many Welsh, or per- 
 haps English, clergymen of those days would have 
 experienced. The catechumens were but few, and 
 those only of the poorer class, but few young people 
 were ever more carefully examined and prepared for 
 the sacred rite. 
 
 But it is not with the young catechumens, after all, 
 that we have to do. A singular circumstance arose 
 out of Simeon's part in this duty, which it comes in 
 the course of our story to relate. 
 
167 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I HAVE already spoken of poor infirm Owen Lewis, 
 who lived with his idiot son, Caleb, in a wretched 
 hovel, behind Dol-y-maenan mill. He, his wife, and 
 afEicted child, had come to Dol-y-maenan many years 
 before from Tanrallt-vawr. He had been originally 
 a man of great strength and capacity for work ; by 
 trade a thatcher, and famous for the beauty and ac- 
 curacy of his work. He was a thorough Welshman, 
 hot-tempered, and capable of long resentment. He 
 hated the English, and though formerly employed 
 almost entirely by Mr Rutherford, who at that time 
 was newly come to Birllan-deg, like many another of 
 his countrymen, it was not with his good will. Sud- 
 denly, for some reason which had never been under- 
 stood, and which as time went on nobody troubled 
 themselves to inquire into, he threw up his work at 
 Birllan-deg, and came to Dol-y-maenan, where a 
 something of reserve and singular unsociality shut 
 him out from the acquaintance and sympathy of his 
 neighbours. Sickness came with him from Tanrallt- 
 vawr, and within twelve months the wife died. 
 
168 THE COST OF CAERGVVYN. 
 
 He had work at Glanrafon, whenever Grono 
 needed the help of an additional man, and as long as 
 he was able to mount a ladder, thatched his rick. It 
 was now however several years since he had been 
 capable of doing anything, and the small pittance al- 
 lowed him weekly by the parish was all that he had 
 to live upon. The poor half-witted Caleb however 
 fared somewhat better than his father, for he had a 
 sort of dog's attachment to Glanrafon, and might be 
 seen there almost any day lounging about in the sun. 
 He went there first vv^ith his father, for he was too 
 helpless to he left at home by himself ; and when his 
 father was no longer able to work, he still went down 
 for the liking he had to the place, and the scraps of 
 food which fell to his share ; and by degrees falling 
 into little easy jobs of work, feeding the fowls, driving 
 out the pigs, and such like, he was tolerated, and 
 even found useful. For clothes, he had such as were 
 past the wearing of Frees. This had been the case 
 for years. Whether it were the wearing of Prees's 
 clothes, or from what other cause, I cannot say, but his 
 attachment to and admiration of that young gentleman 
 were excessive. He followed him about like a dog, 
 and often like a dog was driven off with hard words, 
 not unfrequently being soundly cudgelled into the 
 bargain ; after which for the next several days he 
 would simply watch him from a distance, in his fond 
 silly way of repeating the same word over and over 
 again, talking to the fowls and pigs about Frees, 
 Frees, Frees ! 
 
 Foor Owen LeAvis, bent double with infirmity and 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 169 
 
 creeping along on his two sticks^ had now for some 
 years been one of the few regular attenders at the 
 churchy though at the annual administration of the 
 sacrament it was always observed that he absented 
 himself. Formerly he had gone amongst the Method- 
 ists, and prayer-meetings had been held under his 
 wretched roof ; but refusing to open his heart fully, 
 as to the sins of his past life, at their class-meetings, 
 he was unsatisfactory to his religious brethren, and 
 gradually separated from them. Then he turned to 
 the church. " A rolling stone he was," said Matthias 
 Rowlands, ^' and could not gather any moss of 
 grace ! " 
 
 Settinoj off from his cottao'e half an hour before the 
 bell rang for the commencement of service, though 
 the distance was not beyond a ten minutes' ordinary 
 walk, he took his seat in the lowest place, and sate 
 with his bowed head and rigid but feeble frame, a 
 melancholy object, of whom but few took any notice. 
 Simeon however, who locking up the church was the 
 last to leave, mostly passed the poor man creeping 
 along back to his joyless home, and never so passed 
 him without a few friendly words of sjanpathy or 
 neighbourly good-will. Sometimes Caleb came to 
 church with his father. He sate where he could see 
 the Glanrafon family, and imitated Frees in all that 
 he did. He liked the singing too ; and his poor old 
 father, by what labour and pains it is impossible to 
 say, had taught him the Lord's Prayer and the Ten 
 Commandments — the Apostles' Creed was quite be- 
 yond his power, — and these he repeated in a very 
 
170 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 orderly manner, and, as his father believed, with en- 
 tire comprehension of their meaning. 
 
 When therefore Simeon Hughes commenced his 
 prayerful labours for the preparation of the catechu- 
 mens, he was not perhaps very much surprised to find 
 on the first occasion of their meeting old Owen there 
 accompanied by Caleb, whom his father placed 
 amongst the other young people, causing thereby such 
 a giggling of astonishment and mirth as greatly inter- 
 fered with the solemnity of the occasion. But Caleb 
 knew the Lord's Prayer and the Ten Commandments, 
 as I have said, and might have come off very credit- 
 ably if this had been all, and if his memory alone on 
 these two points, and not his mind, had to be exer- 
 cised. Caleb, like a parrot, began his lesson aloud 
 whenever Simeon's eye was turned towards him, and 
 this was tolerably often in the anxiety he felt regard- 
 ing him ; till finally, seeing that nothing but confu- 
 sion and ridicule would ensue if he remained, Simeon 
 made an abrupt halt, and bade him either go out at 
 once or sit down quietly by his father. He ran out of 
 the church, preferring to look after the pigs at Glan- 
 rafon ; but his poor old father stayed, with his head 
 bowed down lower than ever, and such an expression 
 of humility and sorrow in his whole figure, that Si- 
 meon's heart was deeply touched by it. 
 
 Humiliating as this attempt might be supposed to 
 have been to poor Owen, he was there the next time 
 the little class assembled, but now without Caleb, 
 sitting again on the lowest seat ; and the examination 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 171 
 
 was gone through with perfect decorum and greatly 
 to Smieon's satisfaction. 
 
 When it was over and the young people all gone, 
 and Simeon himself ready to leave the church, Owen 
 Lewis still made no movement to depart. Then turn- 
 ing slowly and as if painfully upon the bench where 
 he sate towards Simeon, who stood by with the church 
 door-key in his hand, a little impatient at his tardi- 
 ness, he said, looking wistfully in his face, and using 
 the words of our Lord to the Pharisee in whose 
 house he was taking meat : 
 
 " Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee ! " 
 
 Surprised at this salutation from one whom he 
 had never valued as a man of religious character, 
 Simeon fixed his eyes upon him without speaking. 
 
 '' Lock the door, Simeon Hughes, and come back 
 to me ; for I have something of consequence to say to 
 you." 
 
 Simeon locked the door inside and sate down on 
 the bench opposite to him. 
 
 "Simeon," began Owen Lewis, with an earnest in- 
 tensity which gave an almost death-like expression to 
 his haggard countenance, " when our Lord gave His 
 last commands to Peter, He said once to him. Feed my 
 lambs, but He said twice to him. Feed my sheep." 
 
 ^^ He did, blessed be His name," returned Simeon. 
 
 " Do you not then see," pursued Owen, " that the 
 sheep, the hard, old, obstinate, misguided sheep need 
 twice the care of the lambs ? " 
 
 " Yes sure," returned Simeon. 
 
172 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 " The Lord knew it ! " continued Owen. '^ It is an 
 easy thing to lead the lambs rights but the sheep are 
 headstrong and obstinate. Old, obdurate, wrong- 
 going sinners ; they are the sheep. '* 
 
 " Well ? " said Simeon, as Owen paused, wiping 
 away the large sweat-drops which stood upon his 
 rugged old forehead. " Well ? " 
 
 " Feed my sheep ! " repeated the other ; ''^ my 
 sheep," he reiterated, emphasizing the pronoun. 
 '^ Simeon, I am one of those sheep, one of my Lord's 
 sheep, and He owns me still, and He says. Feed my 
 sheep ! I need feeding, Simeon," added he with a 
 deep groan. 
 
 " We all are the Lord's sheep, my friend," said 
 Simeon kindly. " You and I and the parents of all the 
 lambs in our parish need feeding with the Divine 
 bread of life." 
 
 ^' True," said Owen, ^' but some have a full table, 
 others have less than the crumbs." 
 
 '^ But God gives of His grace to all who ask," 
 returned Simeon, jealous as it were for the honour of 
 the Divine liberality ; " He is more willing to feed us 
 than we to be fed, there's the mischief ; and if we 
 don't o-et enoug^h it's our own fault. Never let us 
 lay the blame on Him." 
 
 " True," again said Owen. " But, Simeon Hughes, 
 if this holy confirmation by the hand of the Bishop 
 be needful for the lambs, who have more of the Divine 
 nature in them, the nature of obedience and faith, is 
 it not still more needful for the sheep, the old sheep, 
 who yet desire to come back to the fold of the true 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 173 
 
 Shepherd, poor, ragged-fleeced, ill-conditioned 
 sheep ? Answer me that, Simeon ! " 
 
 " I assuredly believe," returned Simeon, '* that 
 confirmation by the hands of the Bishop, the successor 
 of the Apostles and inheritor of the unction of the 
 Holy Spirit, is absolutely necessary to the salvation 
 of the soul ; for without baptism how can we become 
 members of the Church? without confirmation, where- 
 by we receive the Holy Spirit, how can we eat at the 
 Lord's table? and without we eat of His flesh and 
 drink of His blood, how can we have part with Him?" 
 
 " You are a good man, Simeon," returned Owen ; 
 " many good and great men have believed as you do. 
 I have tried to believe differently. I have tried many 
 ways and many things ; but I have not got peace as 
 yet. I desire therefore to be confirmed — to be fed, 
 — as an old wrong-going sheep to be brought back 
 and led into the fold ! " 
 
 " It is a sad thing," remarked Simeon, '^ when a 
 man of your years, whom the Lord has afiiicted in 
 many ways, has not yet reconciled himself to Christ, 
 and made his peace with Him ! " 
 
 Simeon waited for an answer, but none came. 
 
 '* But you have repented of your sins?" added he, 
 interrogatively. 
 
 "Repented!" repeated Owen, with a cry that al- 
 most startled Simeon, and again the perspiration stood 
 on his forehead and his large bony hands grasped his 
 two sticks, — "repented ! Simeon, I have done nothing 
 but repent for these sixteen years. And no peace 
 comes, nothing but the outstretched hand of an angry 
 
174 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 God, notliing but vengeance ; nothing but the curse 
 have I seen all that time ! " 
 
 " You were amongst the Methodists," suggested 
 Simeon. " But no wonder that you failed to find 
 peace there ; they are outsiders. Whilst you are 
 about it, it is better to go into the true fold at once," 
 added he encouragingly. 
 
 '^ I might have found peace with them," returned 
 Owen Lewis, now again sj^eaking more calmly, " for 
 they are good people, and Matthias Rowlands can 
 reach the hardened heart of the sinner. He reached 
 mine. But there were reasons, Simeon Hughes, there 
 were reasons. I was a younger man then than I am 
 now. I had not gone down so deep into the pit of 
 God's anger ; had not been thrashed and broken so by 
 the flail of His wrath. I stood in fear of man. I was 
 afraid of his scorn and abhorrence ; my pride was not 
 then abased as it is now. Listen to me, Simeon : I 
 am a sinner, I am the chief of sinners ! You that are 
 feeding the lambs, feed the sheep too ! Let me also, 
 who am approaching the grave, be prepared for con- 
 firmation — if it can do any good — if it can bring peace 
 to the broken heart of the sinner I " 
 
 ; " Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unright- 
 eous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the 
 Lord, and He will have mercy upon him, and to our 
 God, and He will abundantly pardon," slowly re- 
 peated Simeon, with deep earnestness. 
 
 " You have been kind to me," returned poor 
 Owen, " always kind. Often when you have spoken 
 to me, coming out of church, I have determined to 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 175 
 
 •open my heart to you ; to ask advice from you as a 
 brother in affliction, for the Lord's hand has been 
 laid heavily on you also ; and now I must do it.'^ 
 
 Simeon again replied in the words of Scripture, 
 '' Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for 
 another, that ye may be healed." 
 
 " Nevertheless," returned Owen, " it is a painful 
 thing to lay bare the secret of a life." 
 
 '• But we shall stand naked, spotted with'our sins, 
 before God, in the face of men and angels," replied 
 Simeon, " if we do not cleanse ourselves from them 
 here ! " 
 
 The old man writhed as if in bodily agony, and 
 groaned deeply ; then again wiping his wet forehead, 
 he said, " Simeon, I am a murderer — that is to say, 
 I have willed to commit murder — I am a murderer 
 before God ! I it was who hurled Mr Rutherford 
 from Pentaren-bach ! How he was saved I know 
 not. It was by a miracle ! " 
 
 " May God forgive you ! " said Simeon in a low 
 voice. ^^ But what was your provocation ? " he asked 
 the next moment. 
 
 " There was none ! " returned Owen, " none, as 
 it seemed to me, the moment after the deed was done, 
 I hated him because he was an Englishman, hated 
 him till I had hurled him over the rock — as I sup- 
 posed to death. Then terror took hold of me. I knew 
 then that I was a murderer, and would have fled — 
 fled anywhere, like Cain, from the face of man, but I 
 could not leave my wife. We had been married only 
 six months, and I loved her dearly. She was coming 
 
1T6 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 that ni^ht from Conway, in the wiki storm, under the 
 rock on which I, the murderer, was struggling with 
 the Englishman. She heard the scuffle, the cry, 
 heard his voice, and by a sound which escaped my 
 lips, knew that I was the murderer — though this I. 
 never knew till she lay on her death-bed. I could not 
 leave her, for I loved her as my life. But for the love 
 I bore to that woman I had assuredly fled that night, 
 so great was my terror and my immediate contrition. 
 The next day was Sunday, and the news of the deed 
 rans: throusrh the country. Then I learned that he was 
 not dead ; and that thanks to God had been returned 
 in the church for his merciful deliverance. Scores be- 
 sides myself hated him, but none but me would have 
 done the deed. The overseer of the works that were 
 going on at that time was a friend of mine ; he spoke 
 English, and was in great favour with Mr Rutherford. 
 I was a communicative, pleasant man in those days,, 
 and many liked me. In the course of the Sunday he 
 looked in, for everybody was abroad but me. My 
 wife's indisposition, for she took to her bed that day, 
 was my excuse. I sate in my shirt-sleeves within- 
 doors, on a block of wood, and had not the spirit to 
 move. When I saw him coming, however, I got up, 
 for I thought the truth was out, and that he was 
 coming to take me, for he was the constable. He 
 came in, however, as friendly as ever. No one sus- 
 pected me, and he talked it over with me, and told me 
 what this man and that man said, and how some 
 tramping Irishman was suspected. He described the 
 whole to me, as if I had had no hand in it. He had 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 177 
 
 been up Pentaren-bach, and so had many besides, 
 and now he asked me to go again with him to have a 
 look at the spot ; for there were the marks of the 
 struggle on the hard rock. And the miraculous way in 
 which he was saved astonished every one, saved by a 
 ledge of rock, against which grew a young oak tree 
 like a slender wand, and nothing but that between 
 him and the sheer abyss below ! It was wonderful ! 
 It was God's miracle, and that smote me to the earth ! 
 He thought it was on account of my wife that I was 
 so down-hearted, and tried to cheer me. 
 
 " In the evening the news came that Mr Ruther- 
 ford desired to see all his men the next morning. It 
 was thought that he would discharge them, and for 
 the future have none but English workmen ; and the 
 overseer, who had a great liking for him, was much 
 troubled at this, and vowed the bitterest vengeance 
 against the cowardly murderer ! 
 
 " I hid my contrition and trouble of mind under 
 pretended anxiety for my wife. The next morning I 
 washed myself and went to Birllan-deg. We were 
 all there, all looking so scared and anxious, that no 
 one man could be accused more than another by his 
 countenance. It was the custom at Birllan-deg for 
 the workmen to have their meals there. Mr Ruther- 
 ford, amongst his other new notions, believed Welsh 
 food was not good enough for working men, and that 
 he could feed them better, and by this means have 
 more work out of them. Many were angry at this. 
 I had been one of them. 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
178 THE COST OF CAERG^VYN. 
 
 " When we were all assembled, standing in the 
 entrance-hall, the door of the counting-house opened, 
 and out came Mr Rutherford, leaning on his son, then 
 a mere lad. He had been much hurt by the fall, and 
 now looked deathly pale. He could not stand with- 
 out support, and a large chair was placed for him to 
 sit in. He was greatly agitated, and he looked round 
 upon us all, fixing his eyes on each. I looked at 
 him, and he looked at me, but though he apparently 
 did not fix his eye more on me than on the others, 
 nevertheless the look he gave me pierced me to the 
 heart. Then he spoke, through the overseer, to us. 
 What he said in particular I know not, for as true as 
 I live, Simeon Hughes, all I understood was, exactly 
 what our Lord said to Judas Iscariot in the presence 
 of His disciples, ' One of you betrayeth me. He that 
 hath dipped his hand with me in the dish, the same 
 hath lifted his hand against me ! ' 
 
 *' A shudder ran through all ; they looked one 
 upon another, and said, ' It is not I. Is it thou ? ' I 
 knew it was me, and that he knew it too; and I waited 
 to be taken, believing that every one must now behold 
 in me the guilty Judas. But no hand was raised 
 against me. Again he looked round upon us, fixing 
 his eye upon me as he did so, and said, through the 
 overseer, that it was enough for him to know that the 
 man who had intended to take his life had received 
 benefits from him. He would leave the punishment 
 to his own conscience and to God ; 'that' he said, *is 
 the Christian way of punishing the murderer, that is 
 my English way of conquering' you Welsh.' Then 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 179 
 
 they helped him to rise, and he went back again into 
 the countng- house, leaning on his young son. 
 
 " His last words, ' that is my English way of con- 
 quering you Welsh,' oiFended the men. It was an 
 unspeakable relief to me that they were offended at 
 him. It was a shield to me. Many declared that 
 they would leave his service ; and some did. I did 
 not. I went out with the rest that morning, and did 
 my day's work — my week's work, and had my week's 
 wages. I tried to harden myself against my own 
 conscience. But I could not do it. I was never my- 
 self again. He slew me by his mercy. He punished 
 me more by his forgiveness than if he had committed 
 me to the severest justice of the law. I said to my- 
 self, vv^hat the Lord said to Judas Iscariot, 'Better 
 had it been for this man if he had never been born.' 
 
 " I never did a good day^s work after that day ; I 
 never knew what a good night's rest was after that 
 night ! 
 
 " "Winter came, and my cow died. Spring came, 
 and my son was born. He was an idiot ! Summer 
 came, and my horse fell from Pentaren-bach, and 
 was killed. All pitied me,,because I was unfortunate. 
 Mr Butherford — yes, Mr Butherford, sent to me in 
 my distress, and offered me relief. I could not bear 
 it, so I left Tanrallt-vawr and came to Dol-y-mae- 
 nan. The next year my wife died. On her death- 
 bed she confessed her secret to me. This was an- 
 other death-blow, for I loved her better than my 
 life ; yet I had killed her by the terrible secret of 
 my guilt, which she carried in her heart, never be- 
 
180 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 traying me, never accusing me ; only begging of me 
 at last to confess my sin to Mr Rutherford, and pray- 
 ing to God for pardon of my sin, and that I might 
 find redemption through the Saviour. I joined the 
 Methodists. If ever man could have proclaimed the 
 misery and damnation of sin, it was I ! I said again 
 and again of myself, as the Lord said of Judas Iscariot, 
 'Better had it been had this man never been born.' 
 
 " I had reason to believe that Matthias Rowlands 
 suspected me of that old crime. They called upon 
 me in the class-meetings to confess my sin. I could 
 not. My wife said to me on her death -bed, ' If the 
 Lord permit, I will come to you and strengthen you.' 
 I bound myself solemnly to do the Lord's bidding. 
 I looked for her coming either by token or by dream, 
 but it had not come when Matthias wearied me with 
 his urgency to confess. So I left the Methodists. 
 For fourteen years the sign never came. My life was 
 a burden to me, it was worth nothing ; still I had 
 the poor lad, Caleb, to live for, and I taught him as 
 much as he could take in. He is a good lad, Simeon, 
 a very good lad, though the sin of his father has 
 been visited upon him. I waited for the sign, and at 
 length it came. Two weeks ago I had a wonderful 
 dream. I dreamed that it was spring-time on the 
 hills, and that I saw hundreds and thousands of lambs, 
 as white as snow, a flock such as I had never seen 
 for numbers or for the excellency of their beauty ; 
 and all were in one fold, and, strange to say, many of 
 the lambs that were nearest to me had children's 
 faces, and I knew them ; there was your Laura, and 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 181 
 
 Gweii Thomas's Gwen, and my poor Caleb, ay, even 
 Caleb, and I was so pleased ! Then there was a 
 flock of sheep, dark-coloured, ragged-fleeced, scabby 
 sheep, a miserable flock, and they too that were near- 
 est to me had human faces, but the only one I knew 
 was myself, a wry-necked, famished, miserable sheep ! 
 Then a voice seemed to come from heaven, saying, 
 * Anoint me the sheep with ointment and make them 
 sound ; wash me the sheep and make them white, as are 
 the lambs, for I will lead them into green pastures and 
 gather them into my bosom ! ' This was repeated 
 twice, and I knew, in my dream, that this was the 
 command which the Lord gave to Peter, once to feed 
 the lambs and twice to feed the sheep. So I woke. 
 And in the darkness of the early morning it was 
 all clear to me. I was one of the ragged-fleeced, 
 diseased, starveling sheep that needed feeding more 
 than the iambs, more than your Laura, or Gwen 
 Thomas's Gwen, or even my poor Caleb ! 
 
 " And now," pursued the old man, after a pause, 
 " I am ready to do my Saviour's will, let it be what 
 it may. I long to enter His fold, therefore let me be 
 confirmed ! Let the Bishop, if the grace of God can 
 descend through his hands, lay them on my old head 
 — perhaps I may have lacked this grace through my 
 life because in my youth I never received it. It 
 must be, Simeon Hughes bach, it must be!" repeated 
 he warmly, fearing that Simeon was about to refuse. 
 
 " It shall be done ! " returned Simeon ; '^ it is 
 God's work, and it shall be done. But you must 
 first make confession to Mr Rutherford. We must 
 
182 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 come to God with clean hands and a clean consci- 
 ence." 
 
 '^I am ready to do His will, whatever it may 
 be ! ^' returned poor old Owen meekly. " But how 
 am I to get to Birllan-deg ? " added he, looking at 
 his stiff limbs, " I cannot walk." 
 
 " I will go with you there," replied Simeon, and 
 then the two, rising slowly, went out of the church. 
 
 Owen Lewis laid no injunction of secrecy on 
 Simeon regarding his confession, but it was never- 
 theless held sacred by that faithful-hearted man. 
 
183 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Simeon borrowed Grono Yausrhan's cart to take 
 
 o 
 
 old Owen to Birllan-deg. There was some wonder 
 about the journey, for a small event creates curiosity 
 in a country place, but Simeon made light of it, and 
 Lisabeth decided that it had reference to the old 
 man's parish pay. 
 
 Caleb had a great joy on this occasion ; he rode 
 up to his father's cottage through Dol-y-maenan 
 village, and leapt about for joy to see the old man 
 and his two sticks helped in. Simeon drove, and 
 Caleb shouted after them, " Cart ! cart ! cart ! " and 
 then shambled back to Glanrafon. 
 
 A great difficulty had occurred to Simeon with 
 regard to the confession which Owen Lewis had to 
 make, namely, how, seeing that neither he nor the 
 poor man spoke a word of English, nor Mr Ruther- 
 ford a word of Welsh, this was to be done, and, as he 
 wished, without the intervention of an interpreter. 
 Mr Rutherford had kept the secret inviolate these 
 sixteen years, and so doing had by his mercy brought 
 the criminal to a deeper sense of contrition than 
 
184 THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 
 
 would have been possible by public punishment and 
 disgrace. Therefore even now the same course must 
 be pursued, and neither Grono Vaughan nor the 
 English-speaking overseer, the two men who were 
 Mr Rutherford's mediums of communication with 
 the Welsh, could be made use of in the matter. 
 
 One night as Simeon lay on his bed, pondering 
 the difficult subject, it occurred to him that it might 
 be done by means of the New Testament. The 
 accusation had come to the criminal's mind in that 
 form, in the words of Christ to the traitor Judas. 
 Why then might not the broken-hearted repentant 
 prodigal cry for mercy and forgiveness in the same 
 universal language, " God be merciful to me a 
 sinner ! " or, " I will arise and go to my Father " ? 
 These and such like earnest cries of the contrite 
 heart were the same in English as in Welsh. Thus 
 by this blessed book they would do their errand 
 without any interpreter. The holy Gospel itself 
 should speak for them. 
 
 An English Testament, however, would be neces- 
 sary, and here was a difficulty. Simeon himself 
 had never seen one ; they did not possess one at 
 Glanrafon, nor yet at the rectory ; nor, in fact, could 
 one probably have been found in the parish; and if it 
 could, on what plea could he have borrowed it with- 
 out exciting curiosity and wonder ? which, for Owen's 
 sake, he desired not to do. He set off, therefore, 
 with only his Welsh Testament in his pocket, think- 
 ing that God, whose work this was, would provide 
 them with the other, and on his wav to Birllan- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 185 
 
 deg he opened his plan of procedure to his com- 
 panion. 
 
 Whilst the two men are driving slowly on, let 
 me describe this place to my readers, for we have 
 yet much to do at Birllan-deg. 
 
 Between Pentaren and Pentaren-bach, or the 
 lesser Pentaren, a distance of about four miles, lies, 
 as on the Dol-y-maenan side of the mountain, a 
 broad extent of land, but of a much finer quality, 
 rising gradually from the sea [into soft, velvety 
 swells and craggy mounds, partially covered with 
 very ancient wood. From these ascend hills of 
 considerable height, though verdant to the top, 
 when they extend inland as bleak moorlands for 
 many miles, or are broken up again into hills 
 and deep solitary valleys. Mawn-ddu, the home- 
 stead of the Rowlandses, stands in the midst of these 
 moorlands, a little verdant spot in the midst of 
 barren desolation ; and further on, amongst wild, 
 craggy ridges, which rise like the stony mane of 
 some immense antediluvian monster, the old, solitary 
 church of Llangelynin ; and further still, the village 
 of Ro. 
 
 But returning again to the mountain-edge of the 
 moorlands, we find between the two Pentarens, Moel 
 Llys, the Bilberry hill, and Moel Carrig-druidion, 
 the hill of the Druid- stones, and others, all with 
 individual names, derived from most ancient times. 
 
 Immediately under Pentaren, and for four months 
 in the year in the black shadow of the mountain, 
 lies the little village of Tanrallt, and at about four 
 
186 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 miles' distance, in a long narrow valley, which, 
 rounding the feet of the intervening hills, divides 
 them from Pentaren-bach, lies a second village, the 
 village of Tanrallt-vawr, or the Larger Tanrallt, with 
 the parish church, half buried in trees, and where 
 the greater number of Mr Rutherford's quarrymen 
 reside. 
 
 About midway between the two Tanrallts, amidst 
 a pleasant confusion of green swells and old wood- 
 lands, stands Birllan-deg, or the Fair-orchard, planted 
 upon a long verdant knoll shot out from the foot of 
 Moel-druidion as if for the purpose. 
 
 The house was originally built in the reign of 
 Charles I., by a man of Welsh descent, though 
 English in his tastes and pursuits. In the after 
 wars of the Commonwealth, however, preferring the 
 excitement of martial deeds to a home of peace 
 amongst the mountains, he came forth as a staunch 
 Roundhead, and under General Milton was at the 
 storming of Conway castle ; nor did he ever return 
 to inhabit his beautiful Welsh mansion. 
 
 Neglect and desolation fell upon the Fair-orchard, 
 which for generations was only partially inhabited, 
 excepting by bats and owls, and clinging ivy, which, 
 for long time beautifying the exterior, gradually 
 made its way under the roof and laid it open to all 
 weathers. Before, however, it was past repair, it 
 fell into the hands of an owner, who, it is said, 
 spent large sums of money upon it, contriving, 
 however, at the same time to destroy much of its 
 original grandeur, and to stamp upon it that poverty- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYNt 18T 
 
 stricken, tasteless spirit which characterized the 
 architecture of George II. 
 
 The original form of the house had been that of 
 the letter H, a favourite style for the higher class of 
 Welsh houses at the time when Birllan-deg was 
 built. The second proprietor pulled down the two 
 projecting ends in the front, leaving, however, the 
 fine entrance-hall of the centre, which had formed, 
 as it were, the cross-bar of the H, and added instead,, 
 in prolongation of the entrance-hall, — entirely de- 
 stroying thereby the original design, — a suite of 
 apartments, consisting of two spacious sitting-rooms 
 with chambers above. Having also, it may be pre- 
 sumed, a decidedly equine taste, he built just opposite 
 a large pile of stables. 
 
 When Mr Rutherford came into possession of 
 the place, he contemplated pulling the whole down 
 and building one of those large, square, com- 
 modious mansions which belonged to his period. 
 Instead, however, he altered his mind ; the house 
 was simply put into good repair, the stables taken 
 down and built up again behind; and not gifted, 
 we may suppose, with better taste than the men of 
 his time, nor troubling himself about the incongruity- 
 presented by the exterior of his dwelling, satisfied 
 himself with its spacious, home-like character within, 
 and grew, in fact, to think it altogether the most 
 beautiful place in North Wales. 
 
 The grand old entrance, therefore, built of fine 
 wrought stone, and richly grey and weather-tinted, 
 with its tall, handsomely-mullioned windows, lifted 
 
188 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 itself proudly beside the meagre, modern addition, 
 with plain stuccoed front and six small-paned sash- 
 windows, with outside shutters, suggesting the idea 
 of an ill-matched married pair. Within, the height 
 and noble proportions of the hall equalled its exterior 
 promise. The floor, paved with chequered marble, 
 was now covered with matting, and the walls and 
 ceiling still retained their old decorations in plaster, 
 of the arms and interlaced initials of the builder and 
 first proprietor, with lions and other beasts ramping 
 amongst vine-branches laden with grapes. All this 
 ornamentation had formerly been painted, and still 
 a faint tinge of pale prismatic colours remained 
 upon it. Beyond the hall, in the original limbs of 
 the letter H, were on the one side the kitchen and 
 domestic oflices, on the other various lesser apart- 
 ments, one of which was appropriated to Mr Ruther- 
 ford's own especial use, where he kept his papers 
 and transacted his quarry-business, and from old 
 merchantine association, we may suppose, it was 
 called " the Counting-House." 
 
 Gardens and shrubbery in English taste sur- 
 rounded the house. A lawn, or grass-plat, as it 
 was called, sloped down from the broad walk, which 
 extended the whole length of the house, and looking 
 south-west, occupied the front. Flower-borders, 
 which had been the delisrht of the two deceased 
 ladies, Mrs Eutherford and her daughter, Mrs Ram- 
 bouillet, shone out here and there, though not to be 
 named with the flower-beds of the present day, 
 which resemble brilliant gems laid upon the green 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 189 
 
 velvet of lawns. The gardens of Birllan-deg were, 
 however, a wonder to the neighbourhood, and the 
 Welsh, who have little taste for the cultivation of 
 flowers, or even of fruit and vegetables, and at that 
 time still less, wondered at the money which the 
 Englishman spent on his gardening hobby, and in 
 no less degree at the small effect which the pre- 
 vailing storms and winds of that open coast, and the 
 generally supposed ungeniality of the climate, pro- 
 duced on the garden produce of Birllan-deg. 
 
 It was nearly noon when the little cart with the 
 two men, looking so old and decrepit, drew up to 
 the back of the house, where a man, who spoke both 
 English and Welsh, as did all who were employed 
 at Birllan-deg, came forward to inquire their busi- 
 ness. Simeon alighted, and then it required all the 
 help of both to get his stiff-limbed, infirm companion 
 to the ground, who, when there, seemed so feeble 
 and agitated as scarcely to be able to support him- 
 self on his two sticks. 
 
 Simeon said that their business was with Mr 
 Rutherford alone, and whilst the servant went to 
 announce their wishes, they, hearing that he was in 
 the garden, slowly moved along the gravel walk 
 which led round the house to the front. Here all 
 was sunshine and pleasure garden, the grass sloping 
 away to some distance, amidst the shadowiness of 
 trees, now in their young summer foliage, and inter- 
 spersed with dark evergreens. On the left rose, 
 softly receding and bathed in meridian sunshine, the 
 broken, green slopes of Moel-druidion, the lower 
 
190 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 woodlands of which seemed to form a portion of the 
 sylvan fairyland of the place. 
 
 But the two Welshmen noticed nothing of all 
 this. They only saw Mr Rutherford, who had re- 
 ceived the message, advancing from the lower end of 
 the garden. He was an old, white-haired man, like 
 themselves, older in years, indeed, than either of them, 
 but very different in appearance. Tall of stature, of 
 a firm rather than large build, but singularly up- 
 right, and treading the earth with a cheerful step, as 
 if life were no burden to him. His complexion 
 was florid, less from good living than sound health 
 and much open-air exercise ; his eye clear, and his 
 somewhat small delicately- cut features indicative 
 rather of amiability than strength of character. 
 
 Mr Rutherford walked slowly up the garden 
 towards the two men, who were creeping into view ; 
 whilst his grand-daughter, her hands clasped together 
 over his arm, skipped along by his side, and whilst 
 she talked looked laughingly into his face. She was 
 very pretty, and wore a light blue morning dress of 
 Manchester print, which would have made the Glan- 
 rafon girls wild with delight over its beauty; and 
 her brown hair, curled like Nesta Vaughan's, was 
 worn under a Leghorn hat. She was talking 
 merrily and almost dancing in her joyous-hearted- 
 ness, when casting her eyes on poor old Owen, who 
 was by this time come into the sunshine, she ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " What a poor old man ! Do give him some- 
 thing, grandpapa ! " 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 191 
 
 " The surest way in the world to affront him, 
 Anna/' returned he ; '' he is some proud Welshman 
 descended probably from Prince Caradoc himself! " 
 
 A man, half gardener and half shepherd, named 
 David Jones, was mowing the grass, and him Mr 
 Rutherford called up, just as he reached the two 
 visitors and had exchanged salutations, at least 
 Simeon and he, for poor Owen was bent so double 
 that when standing he could not raise his head 
 without great difficulty, and now so profound was 
 his humility and so much was he agitated that he 
 made no attempt to do so. Mr Rutherford called 
 up David to act as interpreter. 
 
 " Tell the master that I and my companion must 
 see him in private,' ' said Simeon, addressing the 
 man. 
 
 Mr Rutherford, now that his Welsh neighbours 
 were coming to know him better, was now and then 
 applied to for his advice in questions of property or 
 of law. This was always satisfactory to him, as 
 it was his great desire to wean them if possible from 
 their litigious propensities. Supposing this there- 
 fore to be some business of that kind, he dismissed 
 his grand-daughter, and desired that the two old 
 men should be taken to the counting-house, where 
 he would meet them. 
 
 By a very slow process poor Owen Lewis, pass- 
 ing through the great hall, which he remembered 
 so well of old, reached at length the door of this 
 apartment, Simeon patiently keeping by his side 
 the while. Here Mr Rutherford met them, stand- 
 
192 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 ing with his tall figure, florid complexion, and suave 
 expression of countenance, just within the room, 
 and when they had entered closed the door behind 
 them, wondering how if neither of them spoke 
 English their business was to be communicated ; nor 
 was this wonder decreased when the servant who 
 had conducted them thither, informed her master 
 before leaving them that they requested the use of 
 an English Testament. 
 
 Thinking therefore that some business requiring 
 an oath were probably in hand, Mr Rutherford, 
 having seen his singular visitors seated, walked to- 
 wards a small book-case, and taking down an English 
 Testament laid it near them. He then took his 
 accustomed seat in a large chair by the table, and 
 regarded the two with still increasing wonder, so 
 great appeared the agitation and emotion of the de- 
 crepit old man, to whom his companion, again 
 standing, spoke words which, though unintelligible, 
 were full of an unmistakeable solemnity and earnest- 
 ness. Whatever their business might be it was 
 evidently one of no common character. 
 
 Whilst thus speaking words of encouragement 
 and solemn assurance to the trembling old Owen, 
 Simeon had put on his spectacles and drawn forth 
 his own Welsh Testament, into which having looked, 
 he took up the English volume, and after some care- 
 ful seeking out of chapter and verse, advanced 
 to Mr Rutherford and pointed out to him the 
 words : 
 
 ^' God be merciful to me a sinner ! " 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 193 
 
 Then perceiving that the Englishman's eyes had 
 taken in the words, he said impressively, pointing to 
 the poor decrepit man sitting opposite, with his 
 bowed head and tottering limbs, 
 
 " Owen Lewis ! " 
 
 Mr Rutherford, with all his English composure, 
 was startled. The scene and the man of sixteen 
 years ago flashed to his remembrance ; and as he now 
 gazed at him, comprehending at once the full inten- 
 tion of this visit, and seeing at a glance how the 
 judgment of God had followed the criminal, crush- 
 ing him to the earth, yet leaving life and conscience 
 awake, a strange emotion of tenderness and pity 
 filled his heart. 
 
 Again Simeon took the book, and again presented 
 it to him with the glorious words : 
 
 " Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the 
 presence qf the angels of God over one sinner that 
 repenteth." 
 
 Mr Rutherford was not a man much given to 
 sentiment or emotion, but now this bread cast upon 
 the waters and returning to his hands after so many 
 days touched him very deeply, and looking again at 
 the old man, once his deadly enemy, their eyes met, 
 those dim, weary eyes, now full of tears, lifted in 
 that withered, sufiering face, met his — not as sixteen 
 years ago, after the criminal act, they met his coldly, 
 and blanched not, but now with such a pleading 
 look of imploring prayer, of beseeching for forgive- 
 ness, as was irresistibly affecting. He rose up, and 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 going forward, took his hand in his, bent over him, 
 and forgetting that he could not understand the 
 English words, said in a voice of such divine pity as 
 made the unknown language intelligible : 
 
 '' Let us rejoice, for this my son was dead, and is 
 alive again ; he was lost, and is found ! " 
 
 It was understood ; all was understood. The 
 two had now met on the common ground of our 
 divine Christianity, and there was nothing but unity 
 between them. 
 
 In his excitement, the old man dropped one of 
 his sticks, which Mr Rutherford picked up im- 
 mediately and carefully placed in his hand. It was 
 a small incident, but it was more than poor Owen 
 could bear, and he wept bitterly. 
 
 Like Joseph of old, Mr Rutherford went into 
 another room to hide his own feelings, and when he 
 came back Simeon had returned his old Welsh 
 Testament to his pocket, and was assisting his com- 
 panion to rise. Nothing more was said ; they went 
 out, and Mr Rutherford presently followed. 
 
 In the entrance-hall he passed them, and going 
 on to the kitchen ordered much store of good 
 provisions to be put into the cart, both of cold meat, 
 bread, and excellent wine ; thinking to himself it is 
 meet that the fatted calf should be killed, that there 
 should be feasting and merriment when the prodigal 
 son is restored into his father's house. 
 
 Great rejoicing, too, was there in the broken and 
 contrite heart of poor Owen himself, but outwardly, 
 if possible, he was still weaker and more infirm than 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 195 
 
 ever, for tlie excitement and the accomplisliment of 
 so great a purpose was almost beyond his strength. 
 
 Caleb, however, made outward demonstration 
 enough of joy. " The meat, meat, meat ! " and 
 *^ the wine, wine, wine ! " were heard of down at 
 Glanrafon and everywhere that he went. 
 
196 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The preparation and examination of the young 
 catechumens was over, and Grono Vaughan again 
 lent his horse and cart, now to take the little flock 
 of lambs to the episcopal shepherd of Bangor on the 
 great day of confirmation. The Rev. Edward Ed- 
 wards was to meet them there. 
 
 In the cart with the young people, amongst 
 whom, of course, was our Laura, with the sweet 
 secret of her love in her heart, went Owen Lewis, 
 who, it was made known, to the astonishment of 
 all and the amusement of most, w^as also a candi- 
 date for confirmation, and whose late frequent con- 
 ferences with Simeon were now intelligible, as was 
 also his journey to Birllan-deg, for Owen appeared 
 in a new suit, a bran-new suit of warm, comfortable 
 home-spun clothes such as he had not possessed for 
 years. These, it was understood, were a present to 
 him from Mr Rutherford, and the Dol-y-maenan 
 people could not quite make up their minds whether 
 to regard this gift as a spoiling of the Egyptians, or 
 to be angry with Simeon Hughes for begging, as it 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 197 
 
 were, from an Englishman. But then Owen Lewis 
 was a man of Tanrallt-vawr, and it might be con- 
 sidered as a gift from the parish. Poor Caleb, too, 
 was allowed to be of the party, on condition that he 
 should be silent and behave the whole time as if in 
 church. 
 
 It was a magnificent day. The sun shone from 
 morning till night without a cloud. Half the grown 
 people and all the young of the two Tanrallts and 
 Dol-y-maenan, and all the neighbouring villages and 
 homesteads of the district, were on the road to Bangor. 
 It was like a fair. Half way to Bangor, the cart 
 containing our little company was overtaken by the 
 large carriage of Birllan-deg, containing Mr Euther- 
 ford, with his pleasant countenance beaming like the 
 day, and his young granddaughter, like a little bride, 
 all in white, soft India muslin, and a little white cap 
 on her head. 
 
 Anna felt very strange and solemn. Everybody 
 looked at her as they drove along, and realized, as 
 it were, in the sight of her innocent young face and 
 pure, white attire, the significance of the rite, the 
 offering of pure hearts and pure lives, emblemed of 
 old by the lamb and the dove, to the Saviour, who is 
 :all purity. Grono Vaughan rode to Bangor on a 
 new black horse, with Lisabeth behind him on a 
 pillion, in her black silk bonnet, which had now 
 ceased to be a wonder, and the two girls were to meet 
 them at the church with other young maidens of the 
 school. 
 
 Frees also was there, but not as a catechumen. 
 
198 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 The cart had overtaken him outside the town with a 
 troop of other youths, and Laura wondered, as she 
 had often done since the lad and she had exchanged 
 vows, whether it were a sin before God to take this 
 secret with her to His altar on the day on which she 
 presented herself as pure to receive His Holy Spirit. 
 She did not dare to look at Frees as they passed him, 
 but holding down her head and blushing deeply, she 
 felt terrified lest some catastrophe should happen, 
 lest, like Ananias and Sapphira of old, she should 
 be struck dead under the hand of the Bishop for 
 having lied against the Holy Ghost. 
 
 She trembled violently as she entered the ca- 
 thedral ; but nothing alarming happened. When, 
 however, the Bishop's hand was laid upon her 
 head, and the strange though fleeting touch thrilled 
 to the very soles of her feet, she was willing to be- 
 lieve that the Holy Spirit had entered her soul, and 
 she felt an awe and reverence which subdued all 
 lesser fear and anxiety. When she again rose to 
 return to her seat, and lifting her eyes, saw Frees 
 standing before her in the crowd, again a trembling 
 came over her, and dropping into her seat, she wept 
 quietly to herself, with a deep heart-felt emotion 
 which she could not comprehend. Anna Rambouillet 
 had knelt beside her at the altar, not with Megan 
 and Nesta and the other young ladies of Bangor, but 
 with the village girls of Dol-y-maenan and the 
 Tanrallts. Her grandfather was near her at the time, 
 and when this group retired and others had come 
 and gone again, the last group came, and with it old 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 199 
 
 Owen Lewis, who had in the mean time made his way 
 slowly and with much difficulty up the cathedral. 
 It was a difficult thing for him to kneel, and the pre- 
 paration for it caused some delay and considerable ex- 
 citement. He so old and feeble and infirm, presenting 
 himself, as it were, at the eleventh hour amongst 
 those who were in the early morning of their days, 
 was a singular sight. Simeon Hughes was at his side, 
 like an aged brother, to help him, but he was heavy 
 and stiff, and one arm alone was not sufficient to 
 support him as he sank to his knees. Mr E-utherford 
 therefore, leaving his granddaughter, came forward, 
 and holding him on the other side, the two placed 
 him in a kneeling position. 
 
 The Bishop appeared much affected by the sight, 
 and when it came to his turn, laid his hands upon 
 the aged head with marked solemnity, and with slow, 
 clear enunciation, bending over him, said the words : 
 
 '' Defend, O Lord, this Thy servant with Thy 
 heavenly grace, that he may continue Thine for ever, 
 and daily increase in Thy Holy Spirit more and more, 
 until he come into Thy everlasting Kingdom. 
 Amen." 
 
 The rite proceeded to its close, and the old man's 
 head, with his thin white locks, bent down to the 
 altar rail. The rest rose and moved off down the 
 aisle, and Mr Rutherford and Simeon came forward 
 to raise the old man. But he was heavier than 
 ever. A strange, vague sensation of awe passed 
 through the hearts of the two, and each whispered 
 to the other, *' He is dead ! '' the one in English, 
 
200 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 the other in Welsh, each forgetting that the words 
 they had spoken were not understood, though they 
 understood the much stranger, much more solemn 
 fact, which spoke a common language to them both. 
 
 The utmost excitement prevailed throughout the 
 cathedral. The rite of Confirmation was now over, 
 for Owen Lewis had been the last to whom it was ad- 
 ministered, it being considered fitting and seemly 
 that it should be so ; but the Bishop's address had 
 yet to be given. Whilst therefore the catechumens 
 still retained their seats, not daring to do otherwise, 
 many persons went out of the cathedral, crowding 
 into the vestry, whither the dead body was borne 
 with as little bustle and disturbance as possible. 
 
 Whether the Bishop shortened his address or not 
 I cannot say, but certainly it was not the one he had 
 intended to deliver, for it dwelt chiefly on the event 
 which had just taken place, and from which he was 
 able seriously to address not only the young but the 
 aged. 
 
 Thus the solemn business of the day came to an 
 end, and the Bishop and all the other clergy thronged 
 to the place where the stark form of Owen Lewis lay, 
 with an expression of almost angelic peace upon his 
 aged countenance. It was impossible to conceive 
 that it was the same rugged, haggard, care-worn face 
 which had so lately presented itself with its appeal- 
 ing expression to Mr Rutherford and Simeon Hughes- 
 God's forgiveness and peace had been with him at 
 the end. The final blessing which the Bishop had 
 spoken, the blessing of God, the Father, the Sou, and 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 201 
 
 the Holy Ghost, had indeed rested upon him, and 
 would now remain with him for ever ! 
 
 The Bishop and other of the clergy having ascer- 
 tained that the pastor of the parish, the Rev. Edward 
 Edwards, was present, left the cathedral. Nor must 
 I omit here to mention that Edwards received great 
 commendation from his diocesan for the attention 
 which he was naturally supposed to have paid to the 
 souls' health of his parishioners when this old man 
 came forward as one of his catechumens. 
 
 It was decided that the body should be conveyed 
 home in the cart which had brought the living man, 
 and some one ran to a public-house near the cathe- 
 dral to borrow a bed-quilt to wrap it in. But the 
 people refused to lend one for such a purpose, and 
 Mr Rutherford accordingly sent out money to pur- 
 chase a new one. 
 
 Poor Caleb, who, tired with the long ceremonial 
 of the Confirmation, had stolen quietly out of the 
 cathedral to the gates, where he could delight himself 
 by seeing a number of horses and vehicles drawn up 
 for the occasion, and whom everybody appeared to 
 have forgotten in the hurry and confusion of the scene, 
 came in as his father's body was being wrapped in 
 the new quilt. At first he was amused, then wonder- 
 ing perhaps at the stone-like rigidity of the limbs, 
 touched the face, and at once the comprehension of a 
 something strange and awful having occurred to his 
 father, that he, in fact, was dead, penetrated the usual 
 dulness of his brain, and he uttered a startling cry that 
 echoed through the now empty aisle of the cathe- 
 
202 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 dral. Grono, who exercised a master's authority over 
 the poor half-witted lad, turned sharply upon him and 
 bade him be silent ; and Caleb, who had more than once 
 received bodily chastisement from him, now followed 
 the corpse, whimpering and trembling like abeaten dog. 
 
 The cart was drawn up to the gates as closely as 
 possible, and the body was laid in it, and, accompanied 
 only by Caleb, who exclaimed every now and then 
 in a piteous voice, " Tad ! Tad ! Tad ! " was quietly 
 driven off by Simeon. Caleb, who it was evident had 
 some comprehension of death, that mysterious change 
 which removes from the familiar form, the living, 
 loving principle, showed himself in this his sorrow 
 more akin to humanity than he had ever done before, 
 and Simeon, who had placed him by his side on the 
 front seat of the cart, now tried, in the simplest words, 
 to instil into his mind the hope and consolation of the 
 Christian. 
 
 The little flock of symbolical lambs that had 
 accompanied Simeon in the morning now found their 
 way back on foot, and the good deputy-shepherd, as 
 he overtook the various little companies, was some- 
 what grieved to see them laughing and joking one 
 with another, apparently unimpressed by the sanctity 
 of the rite which had that day been performed upon 
 them, or by the solemnity of its concluding scene. 
 
 " But youth is youth," thought he, " and, like the 
 lambs, given to play ; and the Lord will bring His 
 own through all temptation, blessed be His name ! " 
 
 Laura was amongst none of the groups that he 
 passed. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 203 
 
 Grono and Lisabetli Yaughan stayed to tea at 
 the public-liouse where they put up, and Megan and 
 Nesta were with them. Simeon saw them, and many 
 others at their doors, as he drove past. The whole 
 town, in fact, was abroad to see the dead body on its 
 way back to Dol-y-maenan. 
 
 Simeon also saw Frees, seated on a wall with a 
 number of young men and youths, his companions ; 
 but his daughter he saw nowhere, not even with 
 young Gwen Thomas, who was Laura's favourite com- 
 panion. The fact was, that Laura, whom Mr Euther- 
 ford discovered whilst they were in the cathedral to 
 be the daughter of good old Simeon Hughes, was 
 taken by him in his carriage, with his granddaughter,, 
 to Dol-y-maenan, and they were amongst the first 
 w^ho left Bangor. 
 
 Laura, who, of course, had never been in a carriage 
 before, nor yet in company with English people, — 
 and the Eutherfords appeared very grand, — was 
 greatly frightened at the honour done to her. She 
 would, if possible, have avoided it, but Mr Eutherford 
 having communicated to the rector of Dol-y-maenan 
 his wish to take her with him as far as that village, 
 seeing she could not return with her father, she found 
 herself the next moment dragged along by the rever- 
 end gentleman and pushed into the carriage, where 
 Mr Eutherford and his granddaughter were already 
 seated. 
 
 Laura felt almost overpowered by the grandeur of 
 riding in this carriage with the white-attired Anna 
 Eambouillet, the soft, delicate texture of whose India 
 
204 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 muslin dress, and the dazzling fairness of whose 
 complexion seemed to belong to a very different 
 world to her own. As she glanced at her smooth 
 cheek and neck, she remembered what Gwen Thomas 
 had told of old Mrs Rutherford, who was " as white 
 as alabaster.'* 
 
 Anna smiled kindly at the comely, sunburnt 
 young Welsh girl, admiring in her turn a style of 
 beauty so different to her own, and the great charm of 
 which was perfect health, good humour, and the fresh 
 purity of maidenly modesty. 
 
 Mr Rutherford deplored to his granddaughter, 
 as he had done so often before, that the Welsh 
 language cut them off from intercourse both with 
 young and old. 
 
 '^ When Godfrey comes back," said he, as he had 
 said many times before, " we will do our best towards 
 uprooting this barbarous old tongue. The Welsh 
 keep up their prejudices and animosities by their 
 language. If we understood it we should find in it 
 the root of their dislike to us. And it is a barbarous 
 guttural tongue, as unpleasing in sound as it is in- 
 veterate in its prejudices.^' 
 
 " But, grandpapa, it is beautiful if youhear itsung. 
 
 Nesta Vaughan sings it gloriously," and so does Frees. 
 
 They sung for me when they came to Birllan-deg at 
 
 midsummer. Nesta says they shall have a harpsichord 
 
 when she and her sister leave school, and they will 
 
 then teach me some Welsh sonsrs." 
 
 o 
 
 '^ It would be a great deal better that you should 
 teach them English ! " returned he, adding the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 205 
 
 next moment, " Now what a pity it is that we can't 
 talk to this pretty girl ! " 
 
 Laura, who had already caught the names of Frees 
 and Nesta Vaughan, coloured up ; and now she felt 
 uncomfortahle, knowing that they were speaking of 
 her. She glanced out of the window^ and looked very 
 conscious. 
 
 '^ Don't let us talk, grandpapa," said Anna, " she 
 knows we are talking of her." 
 
 ** And so Yaughan's girls are learning English ? " 
 asked her grandfather, not noticing her wish to be 
 silent. 
 
 They were then passing the lane leading down to 
 Caergwyn, and Mr Rutherford, wishing to be neigh- 
 bourly with his young companion, pointing in that di- 
 rection, said, almost shouting, as if he were speaking to 
 a deaf person," Caergwyn,MrGronoVaughan's land!" 
 
 Laura, who had so near an interest in Caergwyn, 
 and who supposed the English gentleman meant to 
 say, Grono Vaughan was the tenant, smiled very 
 pleasantly, and said, "' Caergwyn sydd i fod i fy 
 mrawd bach pan y byddo efe yn ddigon hen," 
 which is in English, " Caergwyn will be my young 
 brother's when he is old enough." All this was fami- 
 liar and intelligible to her, of course, but the English 
 could not understand it, and Mr Rutherford, smiling 
 at her pleasantly, said to his granddaughter, 
 
 " What gibberish it is ! When Godfrey comes 
 back, we'll have English taught at Tanrallt-vawr. 
 Everybody belonging to me shall speak English, and 
 nothing else." 
 
506 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 '' But they would never like that," returned Anna, 
 *^ they are so fond of their language." 
 
 " If they could get rid of their language, they 
 would get rid of their cursed pride of pedigree, their 
 litigious propensities, and their slovenly, dilatory 
 habits. One thing goes with the other. There is no 
 hope for them till they speak English.'^ 
 
 But they were now at Dol-y-maenan village, and 
 Laura, who felt very uncomfortable under all this 
 English talk, which she again suspected had reference 
 to herself, made a movement towards the door, saying, 
 '• Y mae arnaf fi eisia myned allan yma, os gwelwch 
 chwi yn, dda syr ; diolch i chwi am ddyfod a fi mor 
 bell,'^ which meant in English, " I want to get out 
 here, if you please, sir ; and, thank you for bringing^ 
 me so far." 
 
 Mr Rutherford instantly saw her intention. The 
 carriage stopped, he alighted and helped her out, as 
 kindly as if she had been a grand lady. His polite- 
 ness almost overwhelmed her, and with many a blush- 
 ing diolch i clnviy dda syr, or I thank you, good sir, 
 she tripped away into the village. 
 
 Laura was thus the first who brought to Dol-y- 
 maenan the news of Owen Lewis's death. It soon 
 spread from house to house, and though all the 
 younger and more active portion of the inhabitants 
 had gone to Bangor, such as remained now turned 
 out and collected in a group by the bridge, where 
 they had a view of the road for some distance, and 
 would be ready to receive Simeon and his melancholy 
 burden, whenever it arrived, and where also they 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 207 
 
 would be joined by other returning villagers who 
 might precede it, and thus have an opportunity of 
 hearing more of this strange event. 
 
 Old Owen was buried, and Caleb was allowed to 
 take up his quarters entirely at Glanrafon, sleeping 
 in a hay-loft, and spending his days, as formerly, 
 in doing the lowest drudgery of farm-yard work. He 
 showed in his grief for his father's loss more sense 
 than people had given him credit for, and Lisabeth 
 was very kind to him at this time. His father's new 
 suit of clothes was altered for him, by an itinerant 
 tailor, Richard Jones, surnamed Coch, from the red 
 colour of his hair, who circulated through the neigh- 
 bouring district, making and mending, and who just 
 now happened to be on his round at Glanrafon work- 
 ing for Grono and his son. Caleb's grief was in some 
 measure assuaged by his new suit, but still more, as 
 appeared by his own declaration one morning, from 
 his father having come to him in the night and com- 
 forted him. 
 
 " Fy nhad ! Fy nhad ! " or, my father ! my father ! 
 he exclaimed many times through the day, looking 
 half wild with delight. 
 
 From this time he seemed restored to his former 
 untroubled state, and all his old love and admiration 
 returned for Frees, who however often still treated 
 him with severity, and made him the butt of his 
 ridicule. 
 
 Simeon, after his daughter's confirmation, put 
 her into full possession of all her dead mother's clothes 
 and other belongings. The linsey-woolsey garments. 
 
208 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 the homespun linen, the stockings of her knitting, the 
 two long blue cloaks, the whittle and black hat, were 
 now her own, and she felt herself to be very rich. An 
 oak chest of the old accustomed pattern, but handsome 
 of its kind, was her father's present to her also after 
 her first communion. It stood by her bed, and con- 
 tained not only her now ample wardrobe, but her 
 mother's Bible, and other books. No young lady 
 with the richest trousseau could have felt herself more 
 handsomely endowed than did Laura, and all her 
 spare time was devotod to rubbing her new oak chest, 
 that it might be bright and fitting to stand by the 
 side of the handsome carved bedstead, the work of 
 her uncle Grifiiths, and one of the great possessions 
 of the familv. 
 
209 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Whether it were the shock of old Owen's death, 
 or owing to Simeon's anxiety in the preparation of 
 the catechumens, in which also Owen might be in- 
 cluded, or whether the mischief dated much further 
 back, I know not, but soon after the old man's burial, 
 and when things were just returning to their former 
 uniform state, Simeon confessed to Grono Vaughan 
 that he did not feel as usual ; he could not tell what 
 ailed him, but he had no relish for his food nor 
 strength for his work. He hardly liked to confess it 
 to himself; he would not confess it to Laura; and 
 when she asked why he did not eat as heartily as usual 
 he made some excuse, and endeavoured always to be 
 cheerful before her and the lad. 
 
 Grono, who now for the first time was behind-hand 
 with half a year's rent, came up one day, and found 
 Simeon in his little plot of barley. This had been so 
 far a very trying year; the spring cold and wet, and 
 now the summer was hot and dry to a state of drought. 
 The water-courses were exhausted, and the cattle 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
210 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 and the crops suffered equally. Simeon was looking 
 at his barley, and comparing it in his mind to that in 
 Pharaoh's dream, which was withered, thin, and blast- 
 ed, as by an east wind, when he saw Grono coming 
 up the stony path which led to Fridd-bach. It was 
 a real pleasure to him to see his friend, for he was 
 low and anxious, and the sight of a neighbourly face 
 was cheering. 
 
 The two men stood leaning on the stone wall, 
 Simeon within the inclosure and Grono without. 
 Simeon mentioned his fears of the barley, and Grono 
 drew the newspaper from his pocket. He took in 
 the Gwlad carwr, or Patriot, read it himself, then 
 took it with him to church, and gave it to Simeon 
 when service was over, though Simeon made it a rule 
 never to read it on Sundays. Grono now brought it 
 up on the Friday, that his neighbour might see what 
 awful prospects there were everywhere for the har- 
 vest. The drought was frightfully affecting the crops 
 in Anglesea, and the cattle were dying by hundreds. 
 Mona would not this year be the mother of Wales ; 
 she would not have food enough even for her own 
 children. 
 
 The two men, with the wall between them, talked 
 very mournfully of the prospects of the country. 
 
 " That field of barley on which I laid out so much 
 money at Caergwyn," said Grono, ^' will be a dead 
 loss to me. The ploughing alone cost more than the 
 crop will be worth." 
 
 Simeon remembered that Grono borrowed his 
 old mare for the ploughing, and wondered how it had 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 211 
 
 cost him so much. But he said nothing, simply re- 
 marking, " I have been looking out some time for 
 the rent." 
 
 " As soon as I have sold my wool/' replied 
 Grono, '^ I shall be coming up with the rent, unless 
 you'll let it be till next half-year. And besides, I 
 wanted to tell you that Malmsey Edwards has been 
 at me about your bill. He wants some money." 
 
 Simeon thought of the mortgage and sighed ; 
 then he said, " I have not got a single deed yet in 
 my hands. Why, how many years is it now since 
 the Morfa glas was bought ? Five ! — And I don't 
 see that he's done anything. We'll pay when our 
 work's done, Grono," said he, with a little attempt 
 at a smile. " There are two bad paymasters, he who 
 pays before the work is done and he who never pays 
 at all!" 
 
 " Yery true," said Grono, ^' and so I told Malmsey 
 Edwards." 
 
 Simeon, now leaning forward over the wall to his 
 friend, said, speaking in an undertone, as if afraid of 
 his children hearing him, that he had not felt well 
 lately ; he thought he was breaking up, and he must 
 have his affairs settled. 
 
 " It's an unhealthy season," returned Grono, '^ the 
 barley and everything shows it plain enough. I my- 
 self haven't been feeling well of late." 
 
 Without noticing this remark Simeon continued, 
 ^^ It's more than that with me. I know that I'm not 
 long for this world, and I must have my Will made. 
 My property is different now to what it used to be. 
 
212 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 All would go to the lad if I died without a will. It 
 won't do, Laura must be secured." 
 
 Grono commended the intention, and Simeon 
 went on to say : ^' I should like to have some talk 
 with you, Grono, about these things. You know 
 more about my aiFairs than anybody else. I can trust 
 you. Laura is now turned sixteen, and the rent 
 would make up her money perhaps as soon as it 
 would be wanted." 
 
 '^ And the mortgage ? " suggested Grono. 
 
 '^ Let it wait," returned he, " I must have my 
 poor wench made safe first; the mortgage can be 
 cleared off afterwards ; there'll be plenty of time for 
 that before lanto comes of age." 
 
 " Yes sure," said Grono, '^ yes sure ; and I'll come 
 up some day and talk it over with you. You'd better 
 put down your mind on paper, and Malmsey Edwards 
 would soon draw the Will. But, bless, me ! " added 
 he, speaking quite briskly, '' you'll live these twenty 
 years yet. Why, you're not feixty." 
 
 " ISTo, I'm four years short of three-score," said 
 Simeon ! ^' but I'm not a young man of my years," 
 added he, with a sigh. 
 
 Grono knew what this remark applied to, there- 
 fore, wishful to turn his thoughts, he'said, " Yes, I'll 
 come up some day soon, and we'll draw up a rough 
 draft of the Will." 
 
 "I would rather go down to Glanrafon," said 
 Simeon ; '' it would trouble Laura if she thought I 
 was making my Will. She'd think I was going to 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 21'> 
 
 die ; she's troubled enough as it is, poor thing, 
 because my appetite's gone." 
 
 It was therefore agreed that on the following- 
 Monday afternoon Simeon should go to Glanrafon^ 
 Grono engaging to speak to Lisabeth and have the 
 kitchen clear for them. 
 
 So the two parted. 
 
 Grono walked slowly back to Dol-y-maenan, 
 pondering what would be the state of things if Simeon 
 •died without a Will ; pondering about the Will which 
 he was intending to make, and about the lease which 
 would give him a tenant-right to the Caerg^vyn 
 property till the young Evan was of age, in case of 
 his father's death, but which lease the dilatory law- 
 yer had no more completed than the deeds of the 
 property generally. Grono had often pondered on 
 these subjects, but never so much as on his return 
 this day from Fridd-bach. 
 
 On Monday afternoon Simeon went down to 
 Glanrafon. He found the spacious kitchen vacated, 
 according to arrangement, and on the table, pen, ink, 
 -and paper, with the brandy-bottle and tumblers and 
 pipes, for both men were smokers, whilst the kettle 
 was boiling on the fire for the brandy-and-water. 
 
 The two men sate down, and Grono filled his pipe, 
 pushing the second with the tobacco-box towards 
 Simeon. Simeon took up his pipe and leisurely filled 
 it, but whilst so doing entered upon the business of 
 their meeting, which was with him of momentous im- 
 portance, laid the pipe down again unlighted, then 
 
214 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 taking a folded paper from his pocket placed it on 
 the table beside him, whilst he opened his large, 
 steel-rimmed spectacles. Before putting them on, 
 however, he inquired with great solemnity of voice 
 and manner from Grono, if he were willing to become 
 his executor. 
 
 "You and I, Grono," said he, ''have been 
 friends, better friends than many brothers, for long 
 years. It is a great trust I leave, and, according to 
 the best of my belief, I can leave it in no better or 
 trustier hands than yours. AVill you take it and to 
 the best of your ability fulfil it ? " 
 
 Grono had not been prepared for this appeal, but 
 he said, " I will ! '' adding voluntarily, " and so help 
 me God ! But you may outlive me, Simeon,^' 
 observed he, the next moment. 
 
 " No, I shall not,'^ returned Simeon, firmly and 
 solemnly. " I have not long to live ; I believe this 
 is the last harvest I shall see gathered in."'^ 
 
 Grono tried to make light of this apprehension. 
 But Simeon stood firmly to his assertion. 
 
 " I am not afraid of dying,-" said he, '' but I have 
 encumbered my father^s patrimony by this land 
 which I have bought ; and I have sunk upon it 
 Laura^s portion ! Sometimes I fear that God^s bless- 
 ing will not rest upon it." 
 
 Grono rejected the idea. 
 
 Simeon then made a proposal. Would he, Grono, 
 like to take the whole of the Caergwyn property, 
 repay the money which Simeon had advanced, re- 
 lease Fridd-bach from its mortgage, restore Laura's 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN* 21 5 
 
 dowry to the old chest ; and let everything revert 
 to its original state, so that Simeon^s old Will could 
 stand. 
 
 Grono demurred ; not as to any deficiency of 
 money on his part, but he would not take advantage 
 of his friend's depressed state of mind. No. It 
 was good property, and he should not wrong the 
 children of his friend in that way. 
 
 " Besides/' said he, *^ what of Susannah's money ? 
 Jones Llanddarog knows that it is invested in this 
 purchase. He would say endless spiteful things if 
 it were withdrawn to disadvantage." 
 
 This mention of his wife silenced Simeon. He 
 saw that any changes of the kind he proposed would 
 lead to still more complication and probable loss, and 
 he could not bear to leave his children worse off than 
 they had been. He felt grateful to his friend for his 
 disinterested counsel, as he believed it, and replied : 
 
 "You're right, Grono." Then taking up the 
 paper from the table, he said, " I have here put down 
 my intentions with regard to my property. Fridd- 
 bach and Caergwyn, including the Morfa glas, which 
 makes a part of it, I leave to my son Evan ; and 
 Caergwyn,^' said he, somewhat proudly, *' is a pretty 
 property, a very pretty property ! " 
 
 '^ Malmsey Edwards will have to be paid," 
 suggested Grono. 
 
 " True,'^ returned Simeon ; " but then there's the 
 rent, year by year." 
 
 " And Laura's money," again remarked Grono, 
 "as a debt upon it." 
 
216 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 '^ Two hundred guineas," responded Simeon, 
 " part of which I received with her mother ! Her 
 mother was a good and faithful wife ! Laura has 
 been a good and dutiful daughter, and I will not 
 have her wronged. Her money is payable out of the 
 Caergwyn rent — " 
 
 " Before the mortgage is cleared off ? ^' inter- 
 rupted Grono interrogatively. 
 
 " Yes sure ! " returned Simeon. " I've put it 
 down clearly; Laura's money comes first and fore- 
 most." 
 
 '' That's as it should be," remarked Grono. 
 
 And Simeon continued : " That item comes first, 
 chargeable on the rent. You keep good books, Grono, 
 I know, and you'll do what's just by the orphans." 
 He was silent for a minute or so ; Grono too was 
 silent. Then Simeon added, " I put great trust in you, 
 and so may God bless you ! " 
 
 He lit his pipe and smoked, and the two men 
 smoked together for some time without a word ; then 
 Simeon said, 
 
 '' The furniture of Fridd-bach I leave to Laura." 
 
 "It's capital good furniture, old family furniture," 
 said Grono. 
 
 " Yes sure, it is good furniture, that at least which 
 belonged to my uncle Peter Hughes,^' returned Simeon 
 with a glow of family pride, for this furniture was a 
 -great heir-loom. " The dresser is good sound oak, 
 so is the bedstead and so are the six chairs. They 
 belonged to my uncle Peter Hughes of the Welsh 
 Fusiliers, who left his country with his regiment to 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 217 
 
 iiglit for Maria Theresa. Before he went abroad he 
 was engaged to be married to Griffith Roberts^ sister 
 Mary, of Pentre-fellyn. Griffith Eoberts and my 
 uncle Peter were friends — they were like David and 
 Jonathan. Mary kept Griffith's house, he was a car- 
 penter by trade, and it was a very great trouble to 
 them both when Peter was ordered with his regiment 
 out of the country. Griffith was a fine workman, 
 and as soon as Mary and Peter were engaged he 
 began to make furniture for their house. He made 
 the dresser and the bedstead and the six chairs, and 
 all the time Peter was away he kept carving them 
 and carving them and working at them, as if he 
 couldn't make them handsome enough. At last the 
 news came of the battle of Fontenoy, and Peter's name 
 was printed amongst the killed, together with his 
 Colonel, Jones Fron-y-mewn. This was a great 
 trouble ; but still neither Griffith nor Mary would 
 believe it. Mary said if Peter was killed, ' I should 
 have had a sign ; ^ Griffith said the same. So he went 
 on working at the furniture, in all his spare time, and 
 Mary would not put on mourning. The neighbours 
 said Griffith was throwing away his time and labour 
 — my father, Peter's own brother, was one of them — 
 and they said Mary did not show much love for him, 
 seeing she neither grieved nor put on mourning. But 
 she stuck to it, ' I've seen no sign yet, and I know that 
 Peter is alive.' At last Peter came back — with only 
 one arm and three bullets in his body — and there was 
 Mary-fach and the furniture waiting for him ! He 
 knew himself that Mary would wait for him, and you 
 
218 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 may think what a coming home it was, like one raised 
 from the dead ! They were married and lived hap- 
 pily ; but not for long, for his wounds broke out 
 again and carried him off, and Mary-fach soon fol- 
 lowed him. 
 
 " Peter left the furniture to my father, for he had 
 no children himself, and Griffith Roberts was gone 
 down to live in Cardiganshire, where he married a 
 woman with money. So that's the way this fine 
 furniture came to Fridd-bach. By rights it belonged 
 to Silence Evans at my father's death, but it was not 
 mentioned in the Will, and poor Silence's husband 
 was a drunken man who would soon have turned it 
 into cwrw-da, so she and I agreed to let it stand 
 where it was, and though she never claimed it as her 
 own, I know it would be her wish that it should go 
 to Laura when I'm gone. And this I shall make 
 clear in my Will, that there may be no misunder- 
 standing between her and the lad, — for it's valuable 
 furniture, worth a deal of money. As long as I live 
 it stands where it does, and when I'm gone if Laura 
 marries before the lad comes of age, and she and her 
 husband live at the old place and make a home for 
 him, that's according to my mind. My books I leave 
 to Evan — Laura has her mother's. But my Wynne's 
 History of Wales, a good and valuable work, I leave 
 to your daughter Nesta ; I promised it to her when 
 she was a little lass ; and she shall find my promise 
 kept when I'm gone. I leave to her also a string of 
 Welsh pearls, real Conway pearls, which belonged to 
 my grandmother ; they are in a small wooden box. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 219 
 
 in tlie chest. I haven't given them to Laura, because 
 I should not like her to wear ornaments. My clothes, 
 and my silver watch and seal, my chair, my oak- chest 
 that stands in the fire-place, behind my bed, containing 
 my writings, and whatever money it may contain at 
 the time of my death — beyond the amount of fifty 
 pounds — I leave to Evan; but any money to the amount 
 of fifty pounds or under, to be divided between the 
 two children equally. 
 
 " This, I think," said Simeon, laying his hand 
 upon the open paper, " is all there need be said in the 
 Will. You, Grono, I leave as trustee and guardian 
 of the children, till they arrive at the age of twenty^ 
 one, respectively. I desire that Evan be brought up 
 religiously and soberly, and put to a good trade when 
 he is fourteen, and a year's rent I leave as his ap- 
 prentice's fee. But if he incline to farming, and you 
 and he can agree, let him work on the land at 
 Caergwyn, so that when he is one-and-twenty, he can 
 either take it into his own hands or you and he can- 
 make a fresh agreement, as you can settle between 
 you. And, Grono," said Simeon, in a pleadings 
 voice, " you will do justice by him ! " 
 
 " As if he were my own son ! " replied he. 
 
 *' And so may God bless and prosper you ! " con- 
 tinued Simeon, solemnly. 
 
 The two men were silent. Grono then mixed two 
 glasses of brandy-and- water, placed one before Simeon, 
 and drank oif his own. 
 
 ^' And in case," suggested Grono, " that the boy 
 die before coming of age — which is very impro- 
 
220 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 bable," added he, " but every case must be provided 
 for?^^ 
 
 '' Vyq got it down on the paper/' replied Simeon. 
 " In that case it goes to Laura and her heirs for 
 ever." 
 
 " But if both should die, which is still more im- 
 probable ? " again suggested Grono. 
 
 " For that," replied Simeon, '' I have made no 
 provision ; I have no nearer relatives than Rowlands 
 Mawn-ddu. I will leave it, in that case, to Richard 
 Rowlands and his heirs for ever." 
 
 He sate silent for some time, then said, " Yes, it 
 must go to Richard Rowlands. I had thought," con- 
 tinued he, " of putting in Richard Rowlands^ name 
 as joint-executor with yours. Richard is a steady, 
 honest young man, for whom I have great respect ; 
 and if you would like, Grono, and it would be any 
 saving of trouble to you, it can be done yet.'' 
 
 Grono turned sharply in his chair. " Rowlands 
 is a Methodist," said he, " and Methodists are cun- 
 ning, canting people, whom I do not like. But if you 
 are not satisfied with my name alone, let Rowlands 
 be sole executor, trustee, and guardian of your chil- 
 dren. It cannot possibly be any advantage to me — 
 it may to Rowlands ; and perhaps you would like him 
 to have the farm also ! " added he, in a tone of irri- 
 
 tation. 
 
 Simeon was taken aback by these words. He 
 had perfect confidence in his friend, and now as- 
 sured him of the same in the most unequivocal man- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 221 
 
 ner ; and Grono, who under any circumstances would 
 have striven hard to maintain his place in the Will, as 
 well as to keep possession of Caergwyn, exerted all 
 his powers as a host and entertainer to make Simeon's 
 visit agreeable. 
 
 They smoked their pipes together, and Simeon, 
 who was very temperate and rarely tasted spirits any- 
 where but at Glanrafon, emptied his glass, whilst 
 Grono took his second and third, and told him the 
 news of Birllan-deg. 
 
 The long-talked of, long-expected Godfrey Eu- 
 therford was come home. He had seen and talked 
 with him only the day before. He was a grown man 
 now of five-and-twenty. When Grono saw him last 
 he was only eighteen. He had been since then at 
 various universities, and in many countries, but was 
 now going to settle down at Birllan-deg for good. 
 Grono thought that he had been rambling about too 
 much to settle down to steady work. The old gentle- 
 man always said that his son would take the manage- 
 ment of the quarry, and now he understood that great 
 changes were to commence after Christmas. If this 
 were the case, Grono said he should turn all his at- 
 tention to farming, not relishing such new men and 
 new measures as might be coming into vogue with 
 Godfrey E-utherford. For the present, however, 
 everything was going on as usual. He was bringing 
 down the quarried stone with his horses, and Godfrey 
 was fishing in the Aber, and at Lake Ogwen. He 
 was to make himself master of the Welsh language 
 
222 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 before he became master of the quarry. Grono laugh- 
 ed at the idea of any Englishman learning Welsh. 
 
 Simeon repeated in his quiet way one of the triads 
 of Taliesin on language, — correct construction, cor- 
 rect etymology, and correct pronunciation. This he 
 thought was conclusive.; 
 
223 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The drought still continued, and the potato crop, 
 which a few weeks before had been promising, 
 looked now worse than the barley. Grono had this 
 year planted potatoes on some of the Caergwyn land, 
 and his crop was in the finest condition. But the 
 generality of people were no better off than Simeon. 
 All the potato crops in the little stony inclosures of 
 Dol-y-maenan presented the same appearance as that 
 of Fridd-bach. Nor did the corn crops look any 
 better. Provisions were becoming scarce and dear, 
 and the distress and disaffection which, at this time, 
 prevailed throughout England caused a general de- 
 pression in the Principality, for though the Welsh 
 people did not take an active part in public or politi- 
 cal affairs, yet the state of English feeling was reflect- 
 ed back upon them through their newspapers, and 
 the weekly talk of graziers and cattle-dealers, when 
 they met at markets or fairs, or who came through 
 the country on their journeys of trade, and made use 
 of all these depressing means to keep the markets low, 
 — for even if retail prices were high, and the demand 
 
224 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 really great for sheep, cattle, and farming produce, 
 tliey still bought low from the poor Welshman, on 
 the plea of the inferior quality of his produce, and 
 the difficulty of getting it to market. 
 
 A universal gloom therefore overspread the land, 
 and, as is always the case on such occasions, there was 
 a prevalence of prophecy and prognostics of evil. 
 Dreams and portents, signs in the sky, and mon- 
 strous births amongst men and animals, were talked 
 about everywhere, or accounts of such were detailed 
 in the newspapers, or, printed on little sheets of coarse 
 paper, were sold and circulated at fairs or markets. 
 The prophecies of Taliesin, Merlin, and other ancient 
 bards and prophets, were ransacked, and found to 
 have foretold of these times when three desolations 
 should fall upon Wales, famine, murrain of cattle, 
 and terror in the heart of man. 
 
 All these things took great hold upon Simeon 
 Hughes, in the weak state of his health, and he and 
 the older men of the village, amongst whom was 
 Jones Griffiths the miller, whose mill-wheel had not 
 now been able to turn for several months, never met 
 without talking on these melancholy subjects, and 
 looking back to hard old times, which both could re- 
 member, though the miller, being twenty years older 
 than Simeon, carried back his reminiscences to the 
 commencement of the American war. The saddest 
 sufferings of Wales in modern times, dating back to 
 that period, war and famine, according to Simeon, al- 
 ways going together ; these being twin scourges with 
 which God in His anger chastises the nations. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 225 
 
 lanto, who was a great companion of his father's, 
 often went down with him to the mill, and liked to 
 listen to their talk, though it filled him with a strange 
 awe, and sometimes frightened him almost out of his 
 wits, especially when they spoke of signs in the sky, 
 comets, and such like portents of evil, from which, as 
 lanto understood, there was no possibility of running 
 away. Very often Grono Vaughan would join them ; 
 sometimes they all went to the Prince Caradoc, though 
 this was not a habit of Simeon's, and least of all to be 
 approved of when the lad was with him. 
 
 One night, when they were returning home, at the 
 beginning of August, the hot and coppery sky seem- 
 ed all alive with falling stars, and poor lanto thought 
 of a truth that these were some of the signs spoken 
 of, and that the world was now coming to an end in 
 good earnest. An indescribable terror came over 
 him, all his sins flashed into his mind, or passed in 
 instantaneous review before him, as in the moment of 
 drowning, or of a sudden death-shock, has often been 
 the case. After that he confessed all his sins, with fear 
 and trembling, to his father ; all his lesser sins : how 
 he had driven away the other people's horses from 
 the best pasture on the mountains, that their foal, his 
 beloved Ebol, might have good feed ; how he had 
 brought away the old horseshoe, which his father 
 nailed over the cow-house door, from the stable at 
 Glanrafon, and had not picked it up from the road, as 
 he said ; how he had taken the nest of a little Druid, 
 or wren, a bird which, according to the Welsh code of 
 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
226 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 juvenile morality, it is a sin to pillage ; how he had 
 pinched Laura's arm, when he was in a passion, till 
 the blood ran down ; and lastly, he confessed, with 
 sobs and tears, the great crowning sin of his life, hav- 
 ing mocked his father in prayer, which sin he believed 
 God would never forgive him. His terror and his 
 contrition were so sincere, that good old Simeon not 
 only freely forgave him, but took him into his arms, 
 and promised him, in the name of his Father in Hea- 
 ven, full forgiveness through the Saviour, whose 
 Holy Spirit had given him a sense of his sins, and 
 repentance for them. 
 
 Never were these two so united as now. Simeon 
 walked daily, as it were, with the boy's hand in his ; 
 his heart yearning towards him with an indescribable 
 love. There is such infinite love in being able to 
 forgive ! 
 
 Frightened, however, lanto still was at the events 
 which he believed were at hand, and he endeavoured 
 to be prepared for the day of judgment, listening with 
 an eager, child-like curiosity and interest to all the 
 talk of his father, Jones Griffiths, and the other old 
 men. They talked of the times when there was no 
 road even from Dol-y-maenan to Tanrallt, excepting 
 either by a dangerous path on the mountain, or along 
 the shore at low water, and of many perils and pro- 
 vidential deliverances which occurred even on these 
 short journeys. Jones Griffiths, too, was with the well- 
 known Mr Hugh Williams, when he was miraculous- 
 ly preserved in the Irish mail-boat, on Dec. 5th, 1785; 
 and Simeon ascribed the serious turn which his mind 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 227 
 
 early took, to a similar occurrence when crossing the 
 ferry to Auglesea. ^^ The redeeming mercy of God 
 was in the storm, and in the water, '^ said Simeon ; 
 ^' His wrath was only the veil to His love." Simeon 
 had entire faith in the angel of God's Providence 
 keeping watch over those who fear Him, and he 
 wished to fill the boy's heart with the same. One day, 
 therefore, he showed him a huge mass of rock, like a 
 little mountain, which lay on the Tanrallt side of 
 Pentaren. 
 
 " This is a Bethel," said he, " a stone of cove- 
 nant between man and God." lanto could not 
 understand it, till his father told him that many 
 years before a religious woman, having occasion to 
 go from Dol-y-maenan to Tanrallt, Avent on horse- 
 back by the mountain-path; when all at once this 
 rock came plunging down the mountain. Her horse 
 stumbled in its terror and fell, and thus her life was 
 saved, the rock, passing by her at a short distance, 
 leaping down to the spot where it now lies, and where 
 in its fall it dinted the hard mountain as into a 
 hollow to receive it. " Therefore," said Simeon, 
 '^ it stands here as a Bethel, and the vow which Jacob 
 vowed at Ids Bethel I have vowed many a time at 
 this." 
 
 " AVhat was it, father, that I may vow it too ? " 
 asked lanto. 
 
 His father taking off his hat, and leaving his 
 thin hair to be blown by the wind, repeated the 
 beautiful words of Jacob, '^ If God will be with me, 
 and keep me in His way that I go, and will give me 
 
228 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 bread to eat and raiment to put on, then shall the 
 Lord be my God, and this stone which I have set 
 up for a pillar shall be God's house." 
 
 lanto learned it off by heart, but he had a 
 confusion in his mind between Beth-el and Bedd- 
 Odo, and he repeated his vow at Bedd-Odo in the 
 belief that it was all the same, and so, in fact, 
 it was. 
 
 But their conversation was not always of this 
 grave character ; they talked also of the gradual 
 change which was taking place everywhere. How 
 the people of the mountains and the lowlands were 
 now becoming friendly and sociable ; whereas for- 
 merly they would not intermarry, the mountain 
 people, or " the people up aloft,'* as they were called, 
 regarding themselves as a much higher race than 
 the lowlanders. They talked of the terrible times 
 of the old famine when pig-nuts were dug from the 
 hills as a scanty meal, and the principal food of the 
 people of Dol-y-maenan and the neighbouring 
 villagers were cockles gathered on the Lavan sands. 
 Simeon's father and uncles, and even Jones Griffiths 
 in his youth, had often to do their hard day's work 
 after a poor morning meal of this kind. Hundreds 
 of people died of famine along the Caernarvonshii-e 
 coast at that time. 
 
 " Why did they not eat potatoes ? " asked lanto, 
 on the same principle that the young French Prince 
 inquired why those who died in his country for 
 want of bread did not eat pie- crust. 
 
 " There were no potatoes at that time in this 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 229 
 
 part of the country, and, strange to say, tbe first 
 potatoes that ever were grown here, and which were 
 the parent-stock of all after potato crops, were grown 
 in a field at Caergwyn," said Simeon. 
 
 This delighted lanto, for the first rakes and forks 
 that were ever used in hay-making in that part of the 
 country were also introduced by the first farmer at 
 Caergwyn. lanto felt great respect for this useful 
 innovator, whom he fancied must be like Mr Ruther- 
 ford of Birllan-deg, who, Grono Yaughan said, was 
 always talking of improved implements for agricul- 
 ture, lanto intended when he was a man to walk 
 in his footsteps, to introduce all kinds of improve- 
 ments at Caergwyn, and to make a great deal of 
 money. His father smiled at his young ambition, 
 but never discouraged it. lanto, indeed, never 
 heard speak of any great man without determining to 
 imitate him. Gwen Thomas, who came from Den- 
 bighshire, and whose mother lived at Lleweny, 
 told him about the Honourable Mr Fitzmaurice, 
 who had a great bleaching establishment there. 
 According to her account the King's palace in Lon- 
 don was nothing to compare to the grand hall of 
 Lleweny, with its pavilions and magnificent fount- 
 ains, and its acres of linen which lay bleaching in 
 the sun, dazzlingly white, till you could hardly look 
 at them. Gwen's description realized in the lad's mind 
 his idea of the city in the Revelation, the buildings 
 and the streets of which were gold, like unto clear 
 glass. He thought that when he was a man he 
 would build a house at Caergwyn with pavilions 
 
230 THE COST OF CAEEGWYN. 
 
 and fountains like those at Lleweny, and he fancied 
 himself, some way or other, riding in a coach and 
 six like the Honourable Mr Fitzmaurice, who went 
 in all this state to his shop at Chester, where he 
 stood behind the counter and sold the linen which 
 was bleached at Lleweny. 
 
 " It was about the time of Mr Fitzmaurice," 
 said Simeon, one day in his old-world talk with the 
 boy, " when the famous clock which is now at Mawn- 
 ddu came first into our family, and was, in fact, the 
 first clock that ever came into this part of Wales." 
 
 " Tell me about it, father," said lanto. 
 
 " It was my grandfather, Cadwallader Hughes, 
 who bought that clock," replied Simeon. '^ It is a 
 curious and handsome old clock, and came from 
 foreign j^arts, from Italy or somewhere. First it 
 got to Liverpool and then to Chester, where my 
 grandfather saw it. Old Cadwallader, but he was a 
 young man then, was a deep-thinking man, always 
 turning his mind to sun-dials and instruments that 
 would measure time. There were no watches in this 
 country in those days, but clever as he was he never 
 could make anything that was exact enough to 
 please him. Well, one day when he was at Chester 
 he saw this clock. It was the first he had ever set 
 his eyes on, though he had read about clocks, and 
 had a great curiosity to see one." 
 
 '' What was it like, father ? " 
 
 " It stood' about six feet hisrh, in a tall black 
 case figured over, and had a yellow dial-plate full of 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 231 
 
 scrolls and patterns, and was worked with a heavy- 
 steel pendulum that moved very slowly." 
 
 " 1^11 go and see it some day, if they've got it 
 now. May I, father, if Richard ask me ? " said the 
 lad, remembering the next moment that he had 
 never yet seen E-ichard since the evening of his 
 deserved chastisement. But he said nothing of that. 
 
 " Ay, you may go and see it some day, perhaps," 
 returned his father ; then continued his narrative : 
 " Cadwallader was desperately taken with the clock, 
 and would have sold the coat off his back, there and 
 then, to pay for it, but he was afraid of his wife. 
 She was a woman from Llanbedr, who had brought 
 him a little money, and she was master of everything 
 at home, and kept a very tight hand on her husband. 
 However, Cadwallader bargained with the man who 
 had the clock, and he was to pay him for it in five 
 years ! " 
 
 " Oh my ! what a long time ! " exclaimed lanto. 
 
 " Well, the saving to get that clock was a won- 
 derful history," continued Simeon; "thy great-grand- 
 mother kept account of all the money that came 
 into the house or went out, and she allowed her 
 husband so much a month for drink. He was very 
 much given to liquor, and her father stood out for a 
 long time against the marriage, ' for,' said he, ^ Cad- 
 wallader Hughes will make a beggar of thee.' So 
 she allowed him a certain sum every month for 
 drink, and a very dog-and-cat-life they led about 
 this and many other things. After he fell in love 
 
232 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 with the clock, however, he never wanted to drink 
 again. He was up early and down late, and many 
 a little saving he made of which she knew nothing. 
 ' What's come to our Cadwallader ? ' many a time 
 she says, ' for he is quite a changed man, and never 
 comes home drunk now, nor abuses me nor the 
 children ! ' So she grows kinder to him in her turn, 
 and never grudges him anything, and ^ Hadn't thou 
 better take a shilling or two more with thee to 
 market ? ' says she ; ' for it's a cold day, and thou'U 
 want a drop of something to warm thee.' He takes 
 the shilling or two, with a pleasant word, and kisses 
 her and the children, and goes to market, and comes 
 home again early and sober, and no smell of drink 
 about him. And everything prospered that he set 
 his hand to ; and the more he prospered, and the 
 more money he put by for the clock, the pleasanter 
 and the more loving grew his wife. In three years 
 he'd money enough to buy it, but he was now so 
 afraid of bringing it into the house lest she should 
 think it an extravagance and be cross, and things 
 should all get wrong again, that he waited another 
 six months before he could make up his mind to go 
 and fetch it home. 
 
 " He should have gone, though ! " interrupted 
 lanto. 
 
 " And maybe he would not have gone even 
 when he did," replied his father, ^' if by that time 
 he had not come to have no secret from her. He 
 told her all about it, and how saving for the clock 
 had made him a good husband." 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 233 
 
 " And what did she say ? " asked the lad. 
 
 " She was desperately pleased, thou may be sure, 
 and fell in love with the clock at once, without ever 
 having seen it, and nothing would satisfy her but 
 that her husband must set off at once and fetch it 
 home. 
 
 " That's the way that the old family- clock came 
 into my grandfather's house. '^ 
 
 '' And why have not we the clock, as it was my 
 great-grandfather's ? " asked lanto. 
 
 " My grandfather," returned Simeon, going now 
 into the subject of an old family quarrel, " left the 
 clock in the division of his property by will to his 
 only daughter, my aunt, who married Richard Row- 
 lands, the father of old Matthias, and so the clock 
 went with her to Mawn-ddu. My uncles were 
 neither of them pleased about it, and it is a pity to 
 think of, that the clock which had been the cause of 
 unity and love between him and his wife became 
 the cause of ill-feeling between his children. One 
 of my uncles died in middle life, and never forgave 
 his sister for having the clock, and I remember my 
 father speaking of it shortly before his death. He 
 couldn't get over it to the last." 
 
 " But thou doesn't mind them having the clock 
 father, dost thou ? " asked lanto, his own spirit of 
 jealous acquisitiveness reproved by what he had just 
 heard. 
 
 " Not I," said his father, " they are welcome 
 to it ! " 
 
 But this was a home -question, for the family 
 
234 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 quarrel had been inlierited to a certain degree by 
 Simeon himself, who could trace back the coldness 
 in his heart towards the Rowlands, to his very boy- 
 hood, when the clock-quarrel was actively bitter in the 
 family ; and he had taken part in it, nor, truth to 
 say, had he himself been indifferent to it till he had 
 a clock of his own, a much handsomer, as he believed, 
 in an inlaid mahogany case, with an enamelled dial- 
 plate, painted with birds and flowers. Of late years 
 Simeon believed that whatever coldness remained in 
 his heart towards the Rowlands had a totally different 
 origin, namely, the decided bias which they had 
 shown towards Methodism. Fortunately, however, 
 even this cause of bitterness had abated since the 
 excellent character of Richard had become so well 
 known at Fridd-bach. 
 
 lanto, after this story, determined to establish 
 his peace, as soon as he could, with Richard, and get 
 an invitation from him some Saturday to accompany 
 him home that he might have a good look at the 
 wonderful clock, for though he had been at Mawn- 
 ddu this piece of furniture had not particularly 
 attracted his attention. 
 
235 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The harvests this droughty year were as late as- 
 if it had been wet. People waited for the rain to 
 feed their crops, but the rain did not come. Simeon 
 grew increasingly anxious as day by day went on ; 
 the sufferings of the cattle for want of water up in 
 the hills where there was none, greatly distressed 
 him. Out of health and depressed in spirits, he 
 troubled himself increasingly about his own affairs, 
 which seemed perplexed and neglected. He deter- 
 mined therefore, before cutting his small crop of 
 hay, to take the somewhat long journey to Caernar- 
 von and see the lawyer about preparing his Will, 
 and completing the deeds and writings of his pro- 
 perty. 
 
 This was Saturday. Next day therefore on com- 
 ing out of church he mentioned his intention to Grono 
 Vaughan. In reply, Grono, in the kindest manner 
 possible, undertook the journey for him. He knew 
 exactly what were Simeon's intentions and wishes as 
 regarded the Will and the proposed lease, and as to 
 the other part of the business he could easily transact 
 
236 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 it. He was unusually kind and neighbourly, and 
 promised to come up the following afternoon that he 
 might receive from Simeon the draught of the Will, 
 proposing to set off in good time the next morning. 
 
 Simeon, who was glad to be excused the journey, 
 glad for an abler man than himself, as he thought 
 his friend, to undertake the business, thanked him, 
 and on the following day placed the draft of the 
 Will in his hands, talked over again with him the 
 conditions on which the lease was to be granted, 
 and felt his mind for the time greatly relieved. 
 Nevertheless he had yet several things to say to him. 
 He took his seat on the settle under the window, 
 and Grono sate op^Dosite to him with the table 
 between them. Laura was gone a-milking and 
 lanto was out of the house ; now therefore was a 
 good opportunity. 
 
 Considering that the prospect of food for cattle 
 through the approaching winter was so bad, Simeon 
 had determined to sell the greater part of his little 
 stock, so as to decrease all care and anxiety for himself 
 as much as possible. He proposed therefore to part 
 with his small flock of sheep, which, in fact, amounted 
 only to seven, and one of his cows. The other, which 
 was expected to calve shortly, would supply them 
 with milk through the winter ; nor must he part 
 with the old mare, for without her he could neither 
 bring up his small quantity of hay nor yet his peats 
 down from the mountain. But there was the young 
 horse, the colt, or yr Ehol, as it was still called, 
 though now three years old, the last foal of the old 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 237 
 
 mare, a creature so perfect and beautiful, so beyond 
 all expectation from such a dam, that it was a wonder 
 to the whole country. Grono Vaughan knew per- 
 fectly well the merits and fine points of the handsome 
 Ebol, and had many times endeavoured to persuade 
 Simeon to sell it. But it was the handsomest and 
 the most valuable creature of its kind that Simeon 
 ever possessed, and though he rarely used it, and 
 was as much afraid of its being stolen as if it were 
 made of gold, he never could be persuaded even to 
 offer it for sale. Now, however, he had made up his 
 mind to the spirit of self-sacrifice. The seven sheep 
 and the handsome black Ebol should be sold. Better 
 their money's worth than the care and anxiety of 
 them through the winter, to say nothing of their 
 present and perhaps greater sufferings still later. 
 
 If Grono had been by profession universal helper 
 to his friends he could not have shown more readi- 
 ness than he did on this occasion. He volunteered 
 assistance in every way. They had plenty of water 
 and feed down at Caergwyn or even at Glanrafon ; 
 he would therefore take charge of yr Ebol, which 
 would soon be in fine condition, and have him ready 
 for the great autumn horse-fair at Llanbedr, where he 
 could be sold to advantage. He would act for Simeon 
 as for himself; or, if he preferred it, he might be 
 offered at once to Godfrey Rutherford. That young 
 man was fond of fine horses and had plenty of money. 
 But what was the price that he wanted for him ? 
 Simeon said that twelve months before, an English 
 horse-dealer from Shrewsbury offered him thirty 
 
238 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 pounds down, then and there, as he was wild on the 
 hills, and that was the price that he set upon him. 
 Grono gave a little whistle, as if he thought it was a 
 large sum, but he did not say so. 
 
 It was still further definitely arranged that he 
 himself should purchase at a market's price the seven 
 sheep and the cow now in milk, as soon as the second 
 had calved, and that the handsome Ebol should be 
 taken down to Glanrafon in a day or two by Simeon, 
 where the creature should be -well kept till a good 
 opportunity offered for disposing of him. 
 
 "When lanto heard that yr Ebol was going to be 
 sold, he cried sadly ; the next morning he carried the 
 slice of bread that was given him for his breakfast 
 up the mountain to the colt, for the petted creature 
 loved bread, and had been regaled before this with 
 many a mouthful by the lad. It neighed when it saw 
 him and came lovingly to him to be caressed. The 
 boy talked to it, called it all the tender, aflfectionate 
 names he could think of, hung round its neck, and 
 kissed it. 
 
 The first real trouble that lanto had was the part- 
 ing with yr Ebol. 
 
 Spite of the gloomy prospects for the harvest 
 and the growing home-anxieties regarding the health 
 of her father, Laura and Frees not unfrequently 
 met. 
 
 If they could have met at milking-time they 
 probably would have seen each other daily, but this 
 could not be managed, because many village-women 
 and girls went up also at the same time. Grono 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 239 
 
 however had young cattle and sheep on the hills, and 
 Frees made many a voluntary visit to them, much to 
 his father's satisfaction ; and if Frees and his dog 
 Ferra passed Fridd-bach in the morning, Laura was 
 sure to wander away with her knitting before after- 
 noon, in the direction of Bedd-Odo, which was the 
 most secluded part of their neighbourhood. 
 
 The change of the moon was now at hand, and 
 though there had been no rain now for nearly four 
 months, Simeon, like most of his neighbours, de- 
 termined to wait no longer, but to cut his wretched 
 crop of grass, precisely as he had done in that former 
 year when his troubles came upon him like an armed 
 host. 
 
 The bilberries too were now ripe, and the chil- 
 dren of Dol-y-maenan, and all the neighbouring 
 villages, went daily with their mugs and cans to 
 gather this agreeable wild fruit from the mountain- 
 tops and moorlands stretching between Pentaren, — 
 though not a berry grew upon its stony heights, — and 
 the long, narrow valley leading to Tanrallt-vawr. 
 All these hill-tops and the moorlands into which 
 they extended produced this fruit, but the round 
 head of Moel Llys, or the Bilberry Hill, was its 
 principal habitat. 
 
 lanto had set his mind on bilberry gathering, and 
 at breakfast of the day on which his father went 
 down to his mowing, announced his intention of 
 going with the Dol-y-maenan children for that pur- 
 pose. Laura therefore cut him a piece of bread and 
 cheese, and away be v/ent with his can swinging by 
 
240 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 its wire handle, with a little'company of children of 
 various ages. And scarcely was he gone when young 
 Gwen Thomas, and two or three other young girls, 
 who having been Laura's companions in the confirm- 
 ation, had become more intimate with her in con- 
 sequence, made their appearance at Fridd-bach on 
 their way to the hills, all in joyous spirits, with their 
 little bundles of eatables and their cans or other 
 vessels for the gathered fruit. At first Laura refused, 
 but soon however was persuaded to join, more espe- 
 cially as her brother was off with the earlier ones, 
 and her father was not expected home till evening. 
 Therefore locking the door and leaving the key as 
 usual, and old Mingar on guard, away they all went 
 together, with as much joy in the thought of the day's 
 pleasure as a group of modern young ladies in going 
 to a flower-show or fete champetre. 
 
 It is a wide extent of several miles of mountain- 
 top and brown moorland where this plant grows, and 
 a hundred scattered gatherers of the fruit seem lost 
 in the space. Groups of four or five frequently keep 
 together, but not usually any considerable number, 
 for the fruit is not so plentiful as to afibrd a supply 
 for many in one place. Thus the various little parties 
 now and then fall into each other's range, then dis- 
 perse again for a wider circuit ; gathering berry by 
 berry, searching up the stems or wires, for the little 
 fruit, purple as the Orleans plum and, like it, covered 
 with a delicate bloom. 
 
 Laura with the little group of companions with 
 whom she had set out, their lips purple with the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 241 
 
 berries they had eaten, and their fingers dyed of a still 
 deeper hue by those they had gathered, were busy on 
 the side of Moel Llys looking southward, and conse- 
 quently commanding the intervening space between 
 that hill and Pentaren, when, tired of stooping, she 
 raised her head and was startled with delicious sur- 
 prise at the sight of Frees Vaughan, at some little 
 distance, with a gun on his shoulder. The old moun- 
 tain-road which led from Dol-y-maenan to Tanrallt 
 ran in this direction, and Frees was now evidently 
 following it on his way to the latter village. At sight 
 of him, though he appeared not to be there with any 
 reference to herself, she flushed crimson and stooped 
 again to her work. But some of the other girls saw 
 him also, and whilst the delicious thought shot through 
 her like lightning that he had come round by Fridd- 
 bach in the hope of seeing her, they laughed, and 
 said, 
 
 '' Look, Laura ! there's Frees Vaughan coming 
 after you ! " for some rumour of her intimacy with 
 the youth was getting abroad. 
 
 "He is not coming after me," returned Laura 
 quickly, with that ready denial of the heart's truth 
 which seems to be an allowed prevarication in love- 
 affairs, especially with girls of Laura's class. 
 
 '* Isn't he handsome, Laura ? " said another in a 
 half-jeering tone. " And quite a gentleman, with a 
 gun on his shoulder ! " 
 
 '' I don't care whether he's handsome or not I " 
 returned Laura. 
 
 VOL. I. 16 
 
242 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 " Oh Laura ! what a story ! " exclaimed a third. 
 
 '^ I know something about Frees Vaughan," said 
 a fourth, speaking very slowly, as if to dwell upon the 
 tale of scandal which she had heard. 
 
 They were all looking at him now, and he, ap- 
 parently without noticing them, was winding round 
 the road towards Tanrallt. 
 
 Laura looked at him with the rest, and saw his 
 dark hair under his hat, and the sun-light catch on 
 the bright buttons of his coat. She laughed to herself 
 in the joy of thus beholding him, and in the belief that 
 but for some intention of finding her at home he would 
 not have been on this side the mountain. 
 
 " It's no use, Laura, pretending you don't care for 
 Frees," said young Gwen Thomas, " you know you 
 do!" 
 
 " You worship the very ground he treads on," 
 said another. 
 
 " Row can you say so ? I care nothing for Frees 
 Vaughan," again exclaimed Laura, the glad sparkle 
 in her eye contradicting her words. 
 
 " No, I wouldn't if I were you,'^ said the demure 
 damsel who professed to know the something about 
 Frees, " mother says he's a bad young man." 
 
 " No, he isn^t ! " retorted Laura sharply. 
 
 " There now ! we knew you cared for him ! " 
 exclaimed many voices. 
 
 But Laura was going higher up the hill. She 
 knew that the road Frees was taking, though now 
 hidden from view by the intervening ground, ran 
 along a level towards Fentaren before it turned again 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 243 
 
 to descend, and was at this point visible for some 
 distance. None of her companions suspected her 
 design of again seeing Frees by ascending the hill. 
 She was now at a considerable height above them, 
 and whilst they were all laughing below, and eagerly 
 listening to the story which the girl had to tell on 
 her mother's authority against Frees, they did not 
 miss her. 
 
 In the mean time she seated herself on the airy 
 brow of Moel Llys, and saw the object of her desiring 
 gaze come again into view, now in the shadow of 
 Fentaren, and too distant even for recognition, had 
 she not known that it was he. One thing, however, 
 struck her as strange, as she thus sate gazing at him, 
 that he was unaccompanied by Perra. Perra was his 
 dog, and was always seen at his master's heels. Frees 
 without Ferra was a strange sight, but she had much 
 stranger things to learn soon afterwards; and then she 
 knew why he was unaccompanied by his dog. 
 
 Now how lovingly she watched him, almost angry 
 when, the road again turning, he reached the quicker 
 descent which led down to the long woodlands that 
 skirted the mountain-base, and was out of sight ! 
 How indeed would her eye have sought to pierce even 
 the solid rock to keep him in vieAV, could she have 
 known that this was the last time she would ever see 
 him in life ! 
 
 No prescience however of sorrow or evil was with 
 her, and when he was out of sight she followed him 
 in thought down the rugged, rocky path on the green 
 hill-side till he came to the old oak woodlands through 
 
244 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 which he must pass before he reached Tanrallt. It 
 was all a living, familiar picture to her, the green hill- 
 side, and the stony path ; then the ancient wood of 
 old oak trees stunted and gnarled with the battle of 
 centuries against the storms of the north and west, 
 their trunks and branches rugged as the rocky ground 
 out of w^hich they spring, and through which their 
 contorted roots, writhed and twisted even above- 
 ground, like serpents struggling for life. He must 
 pass through this wood, this strange wood which 
 had the reputation of being haunted, and through 
 which she would not have passed at night for the 
 world. But she thought not now ofghost or hobgoblin, 
 but only of the handsome youth who was passing 
 through it, with his manly form and the gun on his 
 shoulder. She thought of what her companions had 
 said, that she worshipped the very ground he trod 
 upon, and she knew that it was true. 
 
 She was very happy ; and still thinking of Frees 
 and his walk through the old woodlands, she again 
 gathered bilberries on the breezy height, where she 
 came upon another little group with whom was 
 lanto, and there was no more talk of Frees Vaughan. 
 
 Before noon the sun which had blazed in the 
 cloudless heavens for four months was obscured by a 
 thin grey mist that came up from the sea. The 
 atmosphere was growing thick ; it was the turn of the 
 tide, and a storm seemed to be rising. The weather 
 had undergone a great change. But blown and 
 buffetted by the wind which came in moaning gusts 
 over the hill-tops, the girls still went on gathering bil- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 245 
 
 berries, till Laura, supposing it to be about three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, went home, leaving lanto 
 with the others, in order to get her milking done at 
 proper time. 
 
 But let us now look after Simeon and his mow- 
 ing^. 
 
 For the first time in his life this mowing had 
 been too much for him ; and nothing is more depress- 
 ing to an active, working man than the first positive 
 assurance that his strength is gone. Simeon had 
 feared it was so, had said both to himself and his friend 
 Grono that his best days were over ; now he knew it 
 to be a fact which there was no gainsaying. His ac- 
 customed work was beyond his strength. He had 
 been ailing for some time, but until he tried the hard 
 mowing of his poor rushy, sea-side field, every blade 
 of its grass seeming like iron-wire, he did not know 
 how feeble he had become, how much strength he had 
 lost within the last few months. At all times this 
 grass was hard to cut ; now he was mastered by it. 
 
 By noon too, as on the hills, the indications of a 
 -change of weather were very apparent. The wind 
 which had blown hot and dry for so many months from 
 any quarter, now blew cold from the west, and thin 
 grey clouds veiled the sun. Simeon was standing dis- 
 heartened by the strange weariness that he felt through 
 all his limbs, when Grono Vaughan came into the 
 field. He had his scythe on his shoulder, and was 
 contemplating mowing, but the changed aspect of the 
 sky deterred him from beginning. He looked how- 
 ever, Simeon thought, much more disturbed than 
 
246 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 could be accounted for by the weather, and presently 
 when the two men had talked together for some time 
 on indifferent subjects, Simeon deplored to his 
 friend his failing strength, again saying he believed 
 it was the last harvest he should ever see gathered 
 in. 
 
 Grono however, without a word of sympathy re- 
 garding Simeon's personal troubles, burst forth, with 
 a bitterness that was startling to hear, against Frees. 
 
 " I have been urging Mr Rutherford," said he, 
 after his incoherent invective, " to enroll himself a 
 member of the Eifionedd (the Society for the Pro- 
 secution of Felons) ; I paid in my own ten shillings as 
 my annual subscription — but I never thought," said 
 he with a bitter oath, *' that my own son would be the 
 first felon I should need to prosecute." 
 
 Simeon looked at him aghast. " Don^t talk so, 
 Grono bach ! " said he. 
 
 " He'll be the ruin of me ! " continued Grono, 
 " and if it were not for Lisabeth I'd have him in 
 Caernarvon jail !" 
 
 Simeon, who had learned to keep his own strongest 
 passions under control, knew that this was not the 
 case with Grono. He was a man of violent temper, 
 and his language at such times was, Simeon thought, 
 like the language of devils. Now, shocked and dis- 
 tressed by what he heard, and really fearful, with a 
 sort of religious horror, of the effect of curses, most 
 of all of a father cursing his son, Simeon tried to 
 pacify his anger, however great the cause might be ; 
 spoke of his son's youth, of the natural folly of youth. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 247 
 
 of the forbearance with which a father must regard the 
 frailties of his children, remembering that he himself 
 was a sinner before his Father in heaven. Besides, 
 Frees wanted employment ; why did not his father 
 induce Mr Rutherford to employ him, especially as he 
 spoke English ? or why did he not let him go to 
 Malmsey Edwards, as was talked of, and as the lad 
 himself wished ? " 
 
 But Grono was in no humour to be reasoned with. 
 He could recognize no divine law of pity and forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 His son had robbed him, he said, and he uttered 
 a vehement oath against him ; imprecating curses 
 even upon himself if he did not punish him ! and but 
 for his mother and sisters, he again and again de- 
 clared his son should have been the first felon pro- 
 secuted by him as a member of the Eifionedd. 
 
 " No, no, Grono, you could not have done it !'^ 
 said Simeon, " and it is not the mother and sisters 
 that prevent it either, it is the father in your own 
 heart, the divine fatherhood. You must not cast 
 him off ; you must bring him back ; he has ten times 
 more need of your help and pity now than ever he had 
 before." 
 
 But as yet there was no sentiment in Grono's 
 heart excepting anger and desire of vengeance, and 
 shouldering his scythe and saying that he was now 
 past work for the day, instead of returning to Glan- 
 rafon, he seemed inclined to go on to the village. 
 
 At times of excitement, Grono, though, generally 
 speaking, a sober man, indulged in liquor, and Simeon, 
 
248 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 fearful that he might go to the Prince Caradoc and 
 there drink deeply to drown his sorrows, and in his 
 intoxication reveal the terrible secret of his home, 
 proposed to walk back with him to Glanrafon, where 
 he said he w^ould be glad to rest, and where he hoped 
 Grono would gradually become more composed. 
 
 It was as he expected. In Lisabeth's presence 
 not a word was said on the subject of Frees, though 
 her hasjsrard and anxious countenance was a con- 
 firmation of the unhappy fact which he had just 
 learned. She made him heartily welcome, for she 
 was only too well- pleased to see any one who would 
 divert her husband's mind from his inveterate anger 
 against his guilty son. And Simeon, instinctively 
 feeling that the subject must be avoided, spoke 
 again of his Will which Malmsey Edwards had now 
 in hand. From the Will they talked of the Lease, 
 and from the Lease of Mr Rutherford's English 
 mode of farming, which he was desirous that Grono 
 should try on the Caergwyn land ; and in the in- 
 terest of all this, Grono brought out the brandy-and- 
 water and the pipes, and made himself comfortable, 
 at least in appearance. 
 
 Thus the hours passed on, and Simeon, towards 
 night-fall, with a new anxiety about the weather for 
 the morrow, took his leave and walked wearily home, 
 more troubled in mind regarding the coming sorrow 
 that he foresaw in Grono's family than from the 
 sense of his own increasing debility. 
 
 It was quite dusk when he reached Fridd-bach. 
 lanto, tired with his day's ramble, was gone to bed. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 249 
 
 and Laura sjood outside the door in the wild west 
 wind knitting mechanically, whilst she waited for 
 her father. It was not so dark but that she could 
 perceive his weary gait as he came slowly up the 
 hill ; his greeting to her was also low and sad. She 
 knew instantly that something was amiss, and half 
 terrified, she knew not at what, inquired if he were 
 ill, this being the first sorrow that suggested itself to 
 her mind. 
 
 He seated himself heavily on the settle in the 
 gloomy cottage, saying, not less cheerfully than was 
 his wont, that he was old and weary ! He wished 
 to make light of his own ailments. He did not tell 
 her that he was unable to do half a day's work. It 
 was heavy mowing, he said, and if he got it done 
 this year, it was the last, he thought, he should 
 ever do. 
 
 Laura had heard him say so before. She spoke 
 cheerfully, therefore, and said Richard Rowlands 
 or somebody else would mow for him. She put by 
 her knitting, locked the cottage door, lighted a rush 
 candle and fixed it in its socket, then placing it and 
 the table before her father, sate down on her little 
 stool by the hearth, and with her hands folded under 
 her apron, as Avas her wont when listening to the 
 evening portion, waited silently till her father began. 
 
 Simeon slowly turned over the leaves of the 
 Bible. In an ordinary way he read each night the 
 chapter following the one read the night preceding, 
 going straight on, from the first chapter of Genesis 
 to the last of the Revelation, which reading occupied 
 
250 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 about three years. In Laura's life the Bible had 
 been gone through several times. But on extra- 
 ordinary occasions, when his mind was much 
 agitated, or he wished to improve some passing 
 occurrence, or to strengthen or elucidate some argu- 
 ment which he had advanced in the course of the 
 day, and which he called " clenching the nail," he 
 selected some particular portion of Scripture, which 
 he then read more emphatically than usual. His 
 children seldom knew what this had reference to ; 
 the table then was spread for his own edification, 
 and they had the benefit of the crumbs that fell 
 below. Laura, therefore, knew that some espe- 
 cial reason had caused her father to select the 
 fifteenth chapter of St Luke, and to read with deep 
 emphasis the beautiful narrative of the Prodigal 
 Son. Whether it were that her mind was so full 
 of Frees with having seen him, or that it were the 
 effect of the wicked something which her companion 
 told against him, or whether some influx from her 
 father's mind reached hers, I cannot say, but in the 
 pictured view which was presented to her interior 
 eye as she listened to this touching story, the 
 prodigal that she beheld was Frees ; wasting his 
 substance in riotous living, herding with the swine, 
 a famished outcast, and in his repentant sorrow 
 returning to his father's house ; it was still Frees ! 
 handsome Frees, in his green coat and top-boots, 
 and the beautiful brooch, as she thought it, which 
 pinned the breast of his frilled shirt ! What, then. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 251 
 
 was Laura's astonisliment and almost breathless 
 terror when her father, kneeling down to pray, 
 prayed less for himself and his own children than 
 for his friend and the son of his friend ; prayed for 
 repentance for the erring son, for the prodigal, who, 
 though he had sinned grievously against his earthly, 
 had sinned still more against his heavenly Father, 
 prayed for repentance and forgiveness, and that 
 God would not visit upon him the awfulness of his 
 father's curse ! 
 
 Laura could scarcely remain upon her knees. 
 The solemn words of the prayer, the pleading with 
 God for the sinner, and that sinner her beloved, 
 pierced her to the heart. She who would have 
 scorned and resented any imputation of crime against 
 him, now, on her knees, saw him presented at the 
 footstool of the Divine Majesty as a sinner, cursed 
 by his own father, yet she dared not to utter a 
 word in his behalf, nor to hurl back the accusation 
 as unjust. 
 
 " Oh Father in heaven, forgive him his sin, 
 whatever it may be ! Forgive him all his sins now 
 and evermore ! " cried she in her heart of hearts 
 rising from her knees; and then turning to her 
 father, asked with trembling impatience what this 
 meant, and how and why his father had cursed Frees. 
 
 But Simeon, who had himself been deeply af- 
 fected by his own prayer, making no reply to his 
 daughter, went to his bed as soon as it was ended. 
 
 Laura also retired to her chamber ; she said, not 
 
252 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 to sleep. But she slept, nevertlieless, and the next 
 morning, in the early dusk, with the wind howling 
 round the cottage, like an angry beast, woke to the 
 consciousness of some unexplained sorrow, the very 
 vagueness of which rendered it all the more appal- 
 ling. 
 
253 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Before the evening of the following day every- 
 body in Dol-y-maenan and its neighbourhood were 
 telling all they knew of Prees Yaughan through the 
 last four- and- twenty hours. 
 
 Let usj however, go back still further. 
 
 Prees was one of those active natures that need 
 constant occupation. Had his father accustomed 
 him to work, even if it had been day-labour, or had 
 he articled him, twelve months before, as the lad 
 wished, to Malmsey Edwards, for the law was his 
 ambition, he might, it is true, have become no more 
 of an honest man than his master, but he would 
 have been employed, and sorrow, if it must have 
 come to his family through him, would have come 
 in a different, and perhaps less poignant form. 
 But his father would not advance the fee which the 
 lawyer required, and never having trained his son 
 to work with his hands, for his ambition was that 
 he should be a gentleman, Prees went on sowing 
 his wild oats ; one inevitable consequence of which 
 was the frequent want of money. In money matters 
 
254 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 Grono was very near, and this had given rise to that 
 constant irritation and quarrel between him and his 
 son which threatened to become the normal condi- 
 tion, as it had been for many years, between' himself 
 and his wife. 
 
 Like the generality of his countrymen at that 
 time, Grono kept his money hidden in the house. 
 When his incomings were very small, the usual oak- 
 chest had sufficed for the keeping of his hoard, but 
 after his connection with the quarry, and he was 
 able to put by much more, he had various secret 
 places of deposit, all of which he believed for a long 
 time were known only to himself. But this was not 
 the case. Lisabeth, herself, poor woman, often 
 driven to great straits even for the common and 
 most legitimate necessaries of life, to say nothing 
 of any little extravagances for the girls now they 
 were growing up and at school, and which were be- 
 yond the reach of her own small economy and con- 
 trivance, had sometimes visited these secret hoards, 
 but always with moderation, satisfying her con- 
 science with the belief that it was no robbery to 
 take that which was her husband's, and which, in 
 fact, was hers equally, he having endowed her with 
 his worldly goods when he married her. Now and 
 then, therefore, she took what was needful, and if 
 at any time the money were missed by him, she 
 simply insisted that he had miscounted his hoard. 
 Little, however, did poor Lisabeth know that her 
 son was following in her footsteps, and with this 
 difference, that his necessities being larger than hers. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 255 
 
 his demands upon his father's hoards were in pro- 
 portion. 
 
 And now the terrible time was come when the 
 father detected the son in the commission of his 
 crime. Subterfuge or denial were impossible. His 
 father cursed him in his anger and struck him, and 
 the youth, no less violent than his father, struck him 
 in return. One of those dreadful crises of family 
 disruption had occurred, after which the domestic 
 life can no longer retain even its outward show of 
 harmony and peace than can the country below the 
 volcano smile in blooming verdure when convulsed 
 by the throes of internal tumult, and desolated by 
 the lava stream of lire. A crisis had come which 
 separated for ever the past from the future. 
 
 This terrible scene took place in the early morn- 
 ing of the day on which Grono opened his heart to 
 Simeon and again registered a curse against his son ; 
 on the day when Laura saw Frees going towards Tan- 
 rallt. 
 
 Frees, driven to many straits as he often was, al- 
 ways determined that when things came to the worst, 
 he would leave his home for ever. Had it then been 
 war time he would have enlisted, for a soldier's life 
 seemed to his ardent imagination one of pleasure and 
 glory. He deplored the departed splendour of the 
 days when there were great battles and victories. But 
 the battle of Waterloo had then been fought, and the 
 brave Foyal Welsh Fusil eers lived on the glory of 
 their battles and sieges. Their Corunna, Albuera, 
 Badajoz, Salamanca, and all the rest, belonged to the 
 
256 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 times that were past, and Frees lamented it bitterly ; 
 lamented in this moment of his angry resentment 
 that there was no battle-field on which he could 
 either die and leave to his father an eternal memory 
 of regret, or return covered with glory to shame him 
 in a still more self-satisfactory manner. 
 
 But there was still the sea. He could go on board 
 a merchantman at Liverpool, and at all events see 
 somethinsr of life and of the world. 
 
 o 
 
 This was the determination that Frees suddenly 
 came to on that early, terrible morning, when, without 
 waiting for breakfast, he took his gun and walked 
 away from Glanrafon for ever. He was seen to leave 
 by no one but Caleb, who looked after him admir- 
 ingly, watching the morning sunshine reflected in 
 the bright buttons of his coat as Laura had done, 
 and for the time missed only by his dog Ferra, who, 
 leaping up with a joyous bark to accompany him, 
 w^as silenced and rebuffed with such an angry re- 
 fusal as smote upon his poor, brute heart and sent 
 him sneaking back like a culprit. 
 
 The Dol-y-maenan miller saw him pass the mill, 
 and gave him a morning salutation as he went by. 
 His road led him almost over the very threshold of 
 Fridd-bach, as Laura knew when she and the other 
 girls saw him on his way to Tanrallt. But whether 
 he had called there in the hope of seeing her, whether 
 he had left any token behind him, she never knew, 
 though she looked everywhere on door and window- 
 sill, and almost inch by inch of the ground which he 
 must have trod, when after events made the past of 
 
THE COST OF CAERG\^^X. 257 
 
 importance ; but she found no token and no trace. 
 He must have lingered however somewhere between 
 the mill of Dol-y-maenan and the point at which 
 Laura and her companions saw him ; for five or six 
 hours had elapsed between these two events. 
 
 At Tanrallt he had an acquaintance, a young 
 man some four or five years his senior, of the univer- 
 sal name of John Jones, called for distinction's sake, 
 from his residence, Jones Cae-eithin. Jones Cae-eithin 
 lived with an uncle, and was a good, steady young 
 fellow, and much respected. He had been several 
 years at sea, had been in South America and on the 
 coast of Africa, was fond of relating his adventures, 
 and Frees Vaughan liked his company. 
 
 It was to Cae-eithin therefore that Frees now went. 
 He arrived there just as they were going to dinner, 
 and dined with them, after which the two adjourned 
 to the little public-house of Tanrallt, a long, low 
 white house standing on the road-side just above the 
 sea, and close under the mountain, and which was 
 known as the Merlyn-da, or the good pony. Here they 
 called for ale and sate outside the door with a little 
 table before them, when presently they were joined 
 by another young fellow, an acquaintance of both, 
 also John Jones by name, who on his part was dis- 
 tinguished as Jones Fentraeth, from his home in 
 Anglesea. This young man, as afterwards became 
 apparent, had got into some trouble, and was at 
 that time on his way to Liverpool — having been some 
 days away from home, — intending to engage himself 
 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
258 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 as a seaman, and leave the country till the storm that 
 was threatening him had blown over. 
 
 Frees thought this a lucky encounter. He had 
 known Jones Pentraeth from boyhood, though of late 
 they had met less frequently. As Jones Pentraeth 
 made no secret of his affairs with his companions, nei- 
 ther did Frees, at least so far as a quarrel with his fa- 
 ther went and his determination to leave home; and 
 the two agreed to set off on the day but one following 
 and try their fortunes together; the three having pre- 
 viously determined to spend the next day in shooting 
 young puffins on the rocky islet of Priestholm opposite. 
 It was a favourite diversion with Frees, who had fre- 
 quently gone there for that purpose. The young puf- 
 fins, though not reckoned good eating in general, were 
 prepared and cooked in some peculiar way by his 
 mother, who prided herself on this her skill; and 
 pickled puffins were known to all their neighbours 
 as an excellent dish peculiar to Glanrafon. Frees took 
 out a gun with him when he left home that morning 
 with the intention of going for the day to the islet 
 with Jones Cae-eithin. Whether the poor youth had 
 any idea of returning home with these as a peace-of- 
 fering or not cannot now be known. Bat his mother 
 believed it to be the case, and it was the little drop of 
 consolation in her cup of intense and over- brimming 
 after-misery. 
 
 Jones Cae-eithin left his companions about eight 
 o'clock in the evening, and though it was then wild 
 and blowing for a storm, the weather having com- 
 pletely changed, they still made their arrange- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 259 
 
 nients to have the boat belonging to the Merlyn-da — 
 the one in which Susannah had crossed in the old 
 times — at high-water the next morning, which would 
 be at six o'clock, Jones Cae-eithin, who was known 
 to be a good seaman, undertaking its management. 
 
 I said that Jones Pentraeth and Frees made no 
 secret of their affairs. That is true ; but probably 
 their plans for the future wouldnever have been known 
 had not the two young men slept in the same bed, and 
 another guest, a cattle- drover, in the adjoining cham- 
 ber, the two rooms being divided only by a thin 
 wooden partition, and the beds standing, as it were, 
 side by side. It cannot be supposed that the good 
 landlord of th(8 Merlyn-da encouraged anyreport being 
 made of the bed-room conversation of his guests, but 
 when after-events rendered all that could be known of 
 these young men's movements and intentions im- 
 portant, not only to their friends but the public, he 
 was j ustified in relating what had come to his know- 
 ledge through the drover. He related therefore that 
 this man had overheard the plans of Jones Pentraeth 
 and Prees Vaughan; that it was their intention to pro- 
 ceed to Liverpool, enter the merchant service, and 
 leave their country and their friends for ever. 
 
 The next morning was still of a stormy character, 
 but with high water the wind lulled a little ; no dan- 
 ger was apprehended, and the three young men, each 
 with a gun, Jones Pentraeth having borrowed one 
 from the landlord, set out, the two Joneses rowing and 
 Prees at the helm. The sea was rough and heavy, and 
 the wind dead against them, but they were seen to 
 
260 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 land, and the boat was moored to the shore. They 
 took provisions for the day, and were to return in the 
 evening, again with high- water, Jones Pentraeth and 
 Prees intending to remain the night over at the 
 Merlyn-da. 
 
 Towards noon the sun came out, though the wind 
 was high and cold, but in the afternoon a haze rose 
 from the west, veiling the sun and gradually increas- 
 ing to cloud, the sky grew gloomy, and with the in- 
 coming tide every sign of storm returned. The land- 
 lord looked out anxiously towards Priestholm through 
 his glass; others-also were looking out in the same di- 
 rection from the little village, for all had seen the 
 young men leave the shore in the morning. 
 
 AVhen the quarrymen had come down in the even- 
 ing from their work, a little knot might be seen stand- 
 ing with the landlord round the steps of the Merlyn- 
 da, looking across. But now rain came on, driving,, 
 misty rain, which partially obscured the distance. It 
 was hoped that with high water the storm might 
 abate ; but still all reasoned hopefully, Jones Cae- 
 eithin was a good seaman, and knew how to manage a 
 boat as well as any man on the Caernarvonshire coast — 
 why then need of any anxiety ? Nevertheless it was bad 
 weather to cross, nobody could deny that ; and there 
 was no shelter for them on the rock. Still they might 
 go over to Anglesea and stay the night there ; and 
 this seemed to be, in fact, the general opinion as to 
 what they would do. But they who so reasoned did 
 not know that Jones Pentraeth would run any risk 
 on water rather than be seen just then in the island of 
 
THE COST OF CAEROWTN. 261 
 
 Anglesea, so near his own home. This they were 
 ignorant of, and believing that the shorter and much 
 safer run across to the island would be the re- 
 fuge of the young men for the night, the landlord 
 turned in to his own cheery fire- side within the tall 
 wooden screen, and several of the men who had been 
 talking with him went in also. 
 
 An hour after high water the thick driving rain 
 abated. It was now clear, the clouds broke away 
 from the west, and a pale, ominous sunset-light lay 
 over Anglesea. The landlord again walked out to his 
 door-step, but no sooner had he placed the glass to his 
 eye to look across the straits than he exclaimed : 
 
 ^^ Best of goodness ! the boat's drifting out keel 
 uppermost ! " 
 
 And the next moment a Tanrallt man ran up to 
 him with the same tidings. He had seen with the 
 naked eye the rounded, heaving bulk on the waters. 
 But where were the three men ? 
 
 Others now came up, and those who were drink- 
 ing in-doors came out. The first idea was that they 
 were lost. Then came the hope that the boat had 
 simply broke away from its moorings, and that they 
 were left on the rock. But even this hope could 
 barely be entertained, the position of the boat seem- 
 ing clearly to indicate that some disaster had taken 
 place. Still there was the chance even then that 
 they might be saved. Frees Vaughan was known 
 to be a good swimmer ; all supposed that Jones Cae- 
 eithin, as an experienced seaman, must be the same ; 
 no one could speak for Jones Pentraeth. 
 
262 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 All Tanrallt was now out; men, women, and 
 children. The upturned boat, floating away help- 
 lessly towards the great Orme's Head, the sister rock 
 of Priestholm, was seen even at Dol-y-maenan. 
 Caleb saw it from Glanrafon, and rushed with the 
 news into the house, where Grono was sullenly- 
 smoking his pipe, as he read the Caernarvon paper, 
 whilst Lisabeth, who had felt a growing anxiety all 
 day respecting the absence of her son, especially as 
 he was gone without his dog, sate knitting in 
 troubled and brooding silence, listening to every 
 sound, in the hope that it was he. Caleb rushed in, 
 screaming in his foolish way, " Boat ! boat ! boat ! " 
 Whether his poor, imperfect mind connected it in 
 any instinctive way with Frees I know not ; but 
 there was a something half-frantic in his voice, 
 which made Grono angry, and which terrified Lisa- 
 beth. But neither one nor the other troubled them- 
 selves farther about it, and Caleb, who could gain 
 no attention for his wonder, watched the black, 
 heaving speck on the waters till darkness hid it 
 from his sight, and then slunk away to the hay-loft 
 where he and Perra shared the same simple bed. 
 
 Several of the houses of the scattered village of 
 Tanrallt- vawr were grouped near the church, which, 
 standing on a rocky flat under Pentaren-bach, com- 
 manded a wide sea view, and many had been the 
 bodies of ship-wrecked men washed upon its rocky 
 ledge, and afterwards laid to rest under the green 
 turf of its church-yard. Several people were therefore 
 now assembled near the church, for having seen the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 263 
 
 boat go out in the morning, they were full of fore- 
 boding fears regarding the fate of its little crew. 
 
 Night seemed coming on darker and earlier than 
 usual. There were very few boats along this shore. 
 There were none at Dol-y-maenan ; at Tanrallt only 
 the one which was now drifting away. One there 
 was belonging to an old fisherman, who lived hard 
 by Tanrallt-vawr church, and this might be had. 
 But who on a night like this would venture across ? 
 If the men were lost, all was lost; other lives risked 
 for them was a needless tempting of Providence ; 
 besides, every half-hour the tide was falling, and 
 excepting at high- water there was no possibility of 
 crossing. 
 
 The landlord of the Merlyn-da, in the mean time^ 
 stood on the door-step lamenting his boat, which was 
 drifting away towards the black Orme's Head. Old 
 Jones Cae-eithin, who knew that his nephew had 
 left home in the morning with the intention of 
 puffin-shooting on Priestholm, had, spite of the 
 storm, felt no anxiety regarding him during the 
 day, in the belief that they had not ventured out. 
 Now, however, just at night-fall, when the old man, 
 who was lame, was going to bed, the news came 
 that the boat in which they had gone out had been 
 seen an hour after high-water, bottom uppermost 
 drifting eastward, and that in all probability the 
 three were drowned. He was angry when the news 
 was brought him, for it was in this way only that he 
 could conceal his emotion and distress. They could 
 not keep him in the house, however, for he was 
 
264 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 extremely fond of his nephew, and lame as he was, 
 he hurried off to Tanrallt. Here he found people 
 all astir ; and at sight of them he burst into loud 
 weeping. 
 
 The news of the boat drifting from Priestholm 
 and of the three young men who were either 
 drowned, or under the happiest circumstances left 
 on the rocky islet for the night, reached Birllan-deg, 
 and soon brought Godfrey Kutherford, then in the 
 early days of his Welsh studies, down to the fisher- 
 man of Tanrallt-vawr. Godfrey was guilty of every 
 sentiment of contempt with which the English were 
 said to regard the Welsh ; add to which, he had the 
 Englishman's strong executive will and love of 
 prompt action in almost an exaggerated degree. 
 His first impulse, therefore, was to send the fisher- 
 man's boat across to the rock, but the old man, who 
 knew the sea and the sands better than he did, 
 refused to cross. His next was to go out with any 
 two others accustomed to these sands who would 
 venture with him. But though this was compara- 
 tively early in the evening, whilst it was yet light, 
 nobody readily accepted his challenge. He next 
 offered ten, twenty pounds if they would go. But 
 the tide was falling rapidly, and though the boat 
 was dragged along the shallow sands a considerable 
 distance, he was at length himself obliged to ac- 
 knowledge that with the coming night before them, 
 the attempt was hopeless. 
 
 But inaction was impossible to him, and saying 
 to himself that any number of poor fellows might 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 265 
 
 perish without these slow Welsh people moving a 
 hand to save them, he hurried back home, had his 
 horse saddled, and leaving word that he probably 
 should not return that night, rode away, determining 
 to go round by land and ascertain what the fate of 
 the men was, and take help and rescue to them from 
 Anglesea if they were still alive. 
 
 When he reached Tanrallt, old Jones Cae-eithin, 
 who had just recovered from the emotion which the 
 sight of the crowd had occasioned, was standing 
 at the door of the Merlyn-da and speaking to those 
 about him : 
 
 " I've five pounds in the Caernarvon Bank," he 
 said, " I put it there by advice of the Englishman 
 of Birllan-deg, and that I'll give to any one of you 
 who will ride round to Penmon and see if the poor 
 lads are there. I can't go myself; I'm lame, and 
 can't sit a horse. Bring me back word that my 
 nephew, young Jones Cae-eithin, is safe, and I'll 
 double the money ! " 
 
 There were plenty ready to accept the challenge, 
 when Godfrey Rutherford spoke : 
 
 " I'll do your errand, Jones Cae-eithin, for the 
 sake of the lads themselves without your money. 
 It was for this purpose that I left Birllan-deg." 
 
 He spoke in good Welsh, but at the moment 
 everybody was so absorbed by the one engrossing 
 topic that they did not notice how strange and even 
 unnatural it was for an Englishman to speak 
 Cymraeg. 
 
 '^ God bless you ! and send that you are in 
 
266 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 time to save them ! " exclaimed old Jones Cae- 
 eithin. 
 
 But Godfrey did not set off immediately, to the 
 old man's annoyance. He was now inquiring the 
 names of the young men. When he learned that 
 Frees Vaughan was one of them he himself was 
 greatly affected, knowing that this youth's fate 
 would occasion the deepest distress to his parents ; 
 and thus, with a redoubled and as it were a personal 
 interest in the cause, he turned to old Jones Cae- 
 eithin, and shaking hands with him, in token of the 
 earnestness with which he undertook the errand, 
 and his determination not to return without ascer- 
 taining the fate of the young men, he rode rapidly 
 away. Before leaving, however, he suggested that 
 a large fire should be kindled on the shore, so as to 
 be seen across to Priestholm, in order that if the 
 poor fellows were alive it might be a sign to them 
 of the interest which their friends were taking in 
 their fate. 
 
 This was Godfrey Rutherford's introduction to 
 the serious business of life amongst the people with 
 whom his days were to be spent. 
 
 A large fire, like a beacon light, was blazing 
 across the now shallow waters of the Lavan sands, 
 as Godfrey, having rounded the base of Pentaren, 
 passed the entrance of the Dol-y-maenan valley. 
 Here all was still ; and the people gone quietly to 
 rest, for though scarcely two miles of actual distance 
 divided the two villages, the rocky mountain as 
 completely sundered them as ten ordinary miles; 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 267 
 
 and when the stormy darkness came on, the people, 
 having no immediate interest, as they believed, in 
 the boat, and but few of them, in fact, taking the 
 trouble to go within sight of the sea to look at it,, 
 retired cheerfully to their beds. 
 
 Glanrafon lay on the shore in perfect darkness. 
 Godfrey looked towards the place wondering 
 whether tidings of the probable fate of their son 
 had reached the parents, but he did not turn aside 
 to inquire. 
 
 The parents in the mean time lay in their dark 
 chamber, but neither of them slept. She was 
 worried and anxious, and more angry with her 
 husband than with her son. He was in that state 
 of miserable reaction which always succeeds violent 
 passion of every kind, and which, reducing its victim 
 to a state of physical weakness, supplies irritability 
 in the place of passion. His wife's worrying anxiety 
 angered him. He would not listen to anything 
 which, by any possibility, might throw him in the 
 wrong regarding his son. He was not willing yet 
 to forgive ; nevertheless, now that the house was 
 shut up in darkness, and the blackness of night lay 
 around, there was a sickening dissatisfaction within 
 himself. He did not particularly trouble himself 
 about his son, he had no anxiety on account of this 
 night's absence from home, for Prees occasionally 
 took such liberties, but he was not at peace either 
 with himself or those around him. He could not 
 sleep, and said it was the wild, stormy night with- 
 out that prevented him. Lisabeth listened to the 
 
^68 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 wind lashing the naked sands at low-water in the 
 dead of midnight ; but it was not the outward 
 dreariness that kept her awake ; it was a miserable, 
 heart-crushing presentiment of she knew not what, 
 but which she felt was connected with her first- 
 born. Both she and her husband wished for the 
 day, thinking this wretched night would never have 
 an end. 
 
 Godfrey Rutherford having reached Garth ferry, 
 roused the ferryman, and at a higher price than 
 ever man crossed the straits before, reached the other 
 side ere midnight. He had yet a ten-miles' ride. 
 All was silent in Beaumaris, and between one and 
 two, with the gusty wind blowing as it were both 
 from the island and the sea, reached Llanddarog. 
 Here he called up our old acquaintance, Jones, the 
 gamekeeper-clerk, of whom he knew something. 
 Godfrey thought that the young men, if not still left 
 in Priestholm by the loss of their boat, might have 
 crossed with high-water to Anglesea, whence the 
 boat, insecurely moored, might have drifted away. 
 It was Avith this hope that he had left the anxious 
 people at Tanrallt, and whose fire he had seen 
 blazing all the way as he rode along this side of the 
 straits. Neither did it appear improbable to him 
 that they might be gone up to Pentraeth, and be 
 there passing the night. His mind, in fact, was full 
 of every possible suggestion, and now in accordance 
 with these possibilities, Llanddarog was the first 
 point at which his inquiries commenced, for as the 
 gamekeeper's house had long been a place of ren- 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 269 
 
 dezvous for sportsmen, they might probably be spend- 
 ing the night there. 
 
 Jones Llanddarog, who was a half smuggler, as 
 well as gamekeeper and parish clerk, knew the sea 
 well, and was always on the look-out, either as 
 regarded game on land or profit by sea ; therefore 
 Godfrey felt sure of information of one kind or 
 another from him. Jones instantly replied to the 
 summons which roused him. He had been expect- 
 ing it, he said, and had not undressed, in order that he 
 might be in readiness. He saw, he informed him, 
 the young men land in the morning on Priestholm ; 
 theirs was an unsteady, awkward boat, nevertheless 
 they seemed to have it perfectly under control, 
 though the water was rough and the wind against 
 them. It was moored below the point, and he had 
 seen it lying dry at low-water. Their firing he had 
 also heard through the day, and he would have gone 
 out himself if the wind had not been so high. As 
 the tide rose later in the afternoon, he still had seen 
 the boat at her mooring, but then the weather grew 
 worse, and the atmosphere so thick with driving 
 rain and mist, that the rock was blotted out, as it 
 were. An. hour afterwards, when the weather 
 cleared, the boat was gone. He thought they 
 might have come across to Penmon and landed 
 there, and thither he went in the evening, but the 
 people at the Point had not seen them. They knew 
 nothing more than that the boat had left the shore, 
 where through the day it had been moored. But 
 just then came some people from above, near 
 
270 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 Llangoed, and brought word that the boat was drift- 
 ing away, bottom upwards, towards the great Orme's 
 Head. 
 
 Godfrey was the first who conveyed the news to 
 Anglesea, that Jones Pentraeth, Frees Yaughan, and 
 Jones Cae-eithin, were the little boat's crew, of 
 whose safety no one now seemed to entertain any 
 hope, at least, as far as the having come across to 
 Anglesea went; for, as Jones Llanddarog informed 
 Godfrey, Jones Pentraeth would hardly, under 
 present circumstances, venture so near his own 
 neighbourhood, unless it were his sole chance of 
 saving his life, for the sad scrape he had got into 
 was well known in this part of the island. 
 
 Although but little hope now remained, Godfrey 
 determined with high-water to go across to Priest- 
 holm and ascertain if by any possibility they were 
 still there. 
 
 But what need to tell all the weary work of this 
 coming day on the dreary rock of St Seriol, and 
 amongst its screaming birds ? Nothing remained to 
 tell of the young men having been there the day be- 
 fore but some empty ale-bottles, some torn paper,- 
 which had wrapped their provisions, now drenched 
 by the rain, and the wadding of their guns found 
 here and there on the rock. 
 
 Nor were Godfrey and Jones Llanddarog alone in 
 their visit. By that time the news had reached Pen- 
 traeth, and the father and brother of the unfortunate 
 young man were there. The fisherman's boat, too. 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 271 
 
 of Tanrallt-vawr came across with the landlord of 
 the Merlyn-da and several others, sent by old Jones 
 Cae-eithin, who had never been in bed all night, 
 and who now again offered ten pounds to any one 
 who would bring him the assurance of his nephew's 
 safety. 
 
 This morning rose bright and calm after the 
 storm. The eastern sun lit up the grey mass of 
 Priestholm till almost every ledge and crevice could 
 be seen across to Tanrallt and Glanrafon. How 
 different this morning to the last ! 
 
 With morning the news spread like wild-fire 
 through Dol-y-maenan, coming nobody knew how, 
 that Frees Vaughan was drowned with young Jones 
 Cae-eithin and Jones Pentraeth on the preceding 
 evening in the storm. 
 
 Again Caleb, who had learned it in his 'early 
 round after the cows, rushed into the kitchen, where 
 Grono and his wife were at breakfast, screaming in a 
 shrill, half-frantic voice, '^ Frees ! Frees ! Frees ! " 
 and the cry rung through the whole house. 
 
 Grono snatched up a stick in his excitement to 
 strike the lad, but dropped it the next moment, for 
 he heard the voice of a Dol-y-maenan neighbour in 
 the yard, and all strength seemed to have left his 
 arm. 
 
 But Grono would not believe the news. He 
 was like a man beside himself, and swore vehemently 
 that it was not true, that it could not be true ! 
 Then he went hither and thither with an ashen look 
 
272 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 in his face, without saying a word, in a purposeless 
 sort of way, or as if he were looking for something 
 that he had lost. 
 
 Lisabeth cried aloud, and broke forth into bitter 
 reproaches against her husband, and he, finally, as 
 if to escape from her, and without opening his lips 
 to her, hurried to Dol-y-maenan. But there no 
 further information could be had, neither could any 
 one give him the hope that it was false. He gazed 
 across the straits, now a full hour after high-water, 
 and cursed the impassable distance and the stern 
 rock where he yet obstinately persisted that his son 
 miojht be found. It almost maddened him to know 
 that there was no longer any boat ; that the Tan- 
 rallt-vawr boat had already crossed, and that God- 
 frey Kutherford had ridden round hours before. 
 
 Grono felt like one fettered or crippled. He 
 who had the most at stake was the only one behind- 
 hand, and with a feeling of desperation he went 
 back to Glanrafon, but not now in the same pur- 
 poseless way in which he had at first moved about. 
 
 There were several women with, Lisabeth, who 
 was still crying with almost a fury of grief. Each 
 one had something soothing and tender to say to 
 her, for her passionate wailings seemed natural to 
 every mother's heart amongst them, and the eifect 
 they were able to produce was perceptible in the 
 momentary lull that now and then occurred in her 
 wailings ; after which fresh outbreaks occurred. 
 
 Without apparently noticing the lamenting 
 women within, Grono entered and took down the 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 273 
 
 saddle and bridle that hung behind the door ; then 
 returned to the yard and laid them on the top of the 
 low stone wall. Instead, however, of fetching up 
 the horse he usually rode, he proceeded into a small 
 field behind the house, where Simeon Hughes's 
 handsome young horse, which had now been under 
 his charge for a fortnight, was grazing. This horse 
 he knew was better than any of his own, and would 
 carry him more swiftly; true, he had given his 
 promise to Simeon never to ride or otherwise use 
 him. In his present state of mind, however, he 
 regarded no promise, and though he knew that 
 Simeon was again mowing in his field hard by, he 
 would not go near him, and carefully kept out of his 
 sight. 
 
 After some difficulty he caught the horse and 
 led him to the yard, but here so tremulous was his 
 whole frame, and so great his agitation, that it was 
 with the utmost difficulty he could saddle him. He 
 was scarcely able to put the bit into his mouth, to 
 draw the buckles of the girths, or fasten on the one 
 spur, with which he was in the habit of riding. 
 
 At length he was ready, and then leading the 
 horse out of the yard into the lane, the hedges of 
 which were high, and would perfectly conceal him 
 from Simeon, he still walked at his head till he had 
 reached the high road, when he mounted, and the 
 noble, spirited creature, unused to a spurred heel 
 or to a hand twitching the rein like Grono's, dashed 
 along the road towards Bangor at full gallop, Grono 
 
 VOL. I. 18 
 
274 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 unable in the excited state of his mind to endure a 
 more moderate pace, nor indeed to keep the frantic 
 animal in. 
 
 Simeon, as Grono had seen, was again mowing. 
 He had risen early, and finding the morning bright 
 and calm, took his breakfast, and without disturbing 
 Laura or the boy, came down again to his work. In 
 Dol-y-maenan he was met by the sad news, which 
 already was flying from house to house, and to hear 
 which many sleepy women rose from their beds. 
 Simeon, who knew from Grono's lips a sad portion 
 of the story of which all here were in ignorance, 
 received the news with an emotion of inexpressible 
 dismay. He sate down by the road-side when he 
 had left the village, and there turned, as he always 
 did in times of affliction or uncertainty, to the Great 
 Rock of his hope and trust. 
 
 " Oh, my Saviour," he prayed, " who art all 
 mercy and forgiveness, look down in tender com- 
 passion on this unhappy father and son. Deliver 
 all those who have gone from Thee out of the 
 snare into which they have fallen. Father, deliver 
 them, and bring them through suffering again to 
 Thyself. Amen." 
 
 It was the prayer which he had long present- 
 ed, in his simple daily sacrifice, for the unhappy 
 Susannah, and though years went on, and he saw 
 no answer to it, he never lost faith, but still prayed 
 on either for her or others. 
 
 Shaken to the very centre of his being by this 
 painful intelligence, and by the sympathy which it 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 275 
 
 called forth, he felt still feebler than on the pre- 
 ceding day. 
 
 He was bending wearily to his work, when 
 about two hours later lanto came rushing into the 
 field, his countenance flushed with anger, and his 
 eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Father ! " he exclaimed, " there's Grono 
 Vaughan been kicking and spurring poor Ebol like 
 mad ! He's going on him into Angiesea ; I wish 
 he'd throw him ! " 
 
 Simeon stayed his mowing and looked at the lad 
 in amaze. Here now was a trial of his own patience 
 and forbearance. Yr Ebol was, as far as a horse 
 could be, the apple of Simeon's eye. He had been 
 entrusted to Grono to sell, not to ride, and, above 
 all, not to abuse. Still the evil, resentful passion of 
 the boy must be reproved. 
 
 " Don't let me hear you talking in that way, 
 child ! " said he, angrily. ^' To wish evil to an- 
 other is to curse him." 
 
 " I don't care, father, if it is," returned lanto, 
 too indignant to listen to reason. " He'll gallop 
 him all that way, kicking and spurring all the time. 
 I hope he'll throw him ! He reared famously, I 
 can tell you. He didn't like it ! " 
 
 Simeon was silent, and lanto continued, growing 
 more and more excited, " You never saw how he 
 spurred him, and yr Ebol has not been used to a 
 spur, he can't bear it ! He's a nasty, cruel man, 
 and I'm glad Frees is drowned ! " 
 
 " Hold your tongue ! " shouted Simeon. 
 
276 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 « Well, it's the truth ! '' muttered the lad, " and 
 you'd have been glad too if you'd seen him kicking^ 
 and spurring in that way. I threw a stone at him, 
 that I did ! '' 
 
 Simeon stood leaning on his scythe, and felt that 
 the hour of his own temptation was now come. The 
 lad, in the mean time, threw himself, with his face 
 to the ground, on the new-mown swathe, and 
 kicked the grass in his passion. Then, lifting up 
 his face, he said, speaking aloud his father's 
 thoughts : 
 
 *'^ Yr Ebol won't be good for anything after 
 this ! " 
 
 Simeon struggled Violently with himself Such 
 a tumult of anger and resentment filled his heart as 
 he had not experienced for years. It seemed as if 
 his own inner being were convulsed, and the evil 
 came uppermost. But he controlled himself, and, 
 still leaning on his scythe, did manful battle with 
 the enemy. It was hard work. Injury to his fa- 
 vourite horse, the creature that he had reared so 
 tenderly, the most valuable of all his live stock, and 
 which he had entrusted to Grono as to a faithful 
 friend, was, indeed, assailing him in his weakest 
 point. But he finally subdued the angry tumult 
 within. He bethought himself of the father's agony, 
 and willing to believe that the boy had exaggerated 
 the treatment to which the horse had been sub- 
 jected, and that it would not, probably, be the 
 worse for the gallop, even though a violent one, he 
 recommenced his mowing, feeling, however, still less 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 277 
 
 able for his work than heretofore, and with such a 
 painful sense of disappointment and anxiety in his 
 heart as, spite of himself, somewhat neutralized the 
 sympathy and distress which he had felt for his 
 friend. 
 
 In the mean time the fiery and wrathful young 
 horse had brought Grono to Garth-ferry. Here his 
 errand was known, and the Herculean ferryman, 
 who fully believed in the loss of the three young 
 men, though he would not assert it, spoke a few 
 kind words rather of encouragement than consola- 
 tion, which, however, Grono did not seem to hear. 
 He twitched at the bridle of the horse, till the foam- 
 ing, panting creature started aside, endangering the 
 boat and the lives of those who were in it ; still all, 
 pitying and even respecting the agony of the half- 
 frantic father, were silent before him. 
 
 Remounting on the other side he galloped furi- 
 ously through Beaumaris to Penmon, people looking 
 after him as he went, and all knowing the cause of 
 his reckless speed. But he neither spoke nor made 
 a sign to any one. 
 
 It was near low- water when he reached Penmon 
 Point. Several people were standing about; the 
 boat had long since crossed, and he could see those 
 who were gone in her, as well as others from Tan- 
 rallt, moving about the rock. This state of inaction 
 was intolerable to him. People here had given up 
 all hope, but the father and brother of Jones Pen- 
 traeth were on the rock looking after their dead. 
 He stood here with the water before him, falling 
 
278 THE COST or caergwyn. 
 
 momentarily^ and revealing an ever broader stretch 
 of sand. He had not as yet spoken to any one even 
 in reply to their remarks, and the dead^ ashy look 
 in his face and the rigid set of his features were 
 terrible to see. 
 
 Grono stood holding his panting horse by the 
 bridle, looking across, with hungry eyes, to the now 
 sun-lit rock. Then again he mounted, and again 
 spurring forward the horse, urged it upon the yield- 
 ing sands. The creature held back at first, but he 
 was determined, and, spurring and lashing it merci- 
 lessly, it dashed out, trembling at its uncertain foot- 
 ing, and coming to the deeper water swam across 
 the strong channel of sea, and in a few minutes more 
 was over the heaving, tremulous sand on the other 
 side, and then, planting its hoofs on the firm, rocky 
 shore, dashed up the steep side of the islet. 
 
 The people who stood on the Point held their 
 breath at this daring ride, some of the women cried, 
 and all honoured and reverenced the agonized heart 
 of the father who thus ventured his own life in the 
 faint hope of finding his son alive. 
 
279 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 When Laura left her chamber this fine morning 
 she was no way surprised to find her father gone 
 again to his mowing, and soon also herself set oflf 
 a-milking up the sunny mountain with her shining 
 can by her side. Tripping thus briskly along, and 
 facing the ascending sun, she was soon joined by a 
 group of women and young girls from the village, 
 who, seeing her before them, hurried after her with 
 the news. 
 
 Laura, hearing them behind, turned round to 
 wait for their coming, and saw at once by their 
 countenances that some subject of grave but un- 
 usual interest occupied them. 
 
 " Here's bad news for you, Laura fach ! " said 
 one. 
 
 Her first fear was that her father was ill. But 
 next moment another said : 
 
 " Your fine Frees Vaughan is drowned ! " 
 
 All the blood in Laura's young frame seemed to 
 stand still in a moment, then rush to her heart. She 
 was deadly pale. 
 
280 THE COST or CAERGWYN. 
 
 " I knew you loved Frees Vaughan ! " said one 
 of the young girls who had taunted her with this 
 love on the bilberry hill. 
 
 Laura did not hear these words, for she seemed 
 to have lost all consciousness for the moment ; then 
 the blood rushed back from her heart, and she burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " You did love him, then ! " said the girl. 
 
 " Drowned ! '' repeated Laura, controlling her- 
 self, and feeling as if crushed by a whole world of 
 misery ! " No, you don't mean it ! He can't be 
 drowned ! " 
 
 " He is though ! He was drowned last night com- 
 ing from Priestholm with young Jones Cae-eithin and 
 Jones Pentraeth. 
 
 " Oh what will his father say, and his mother ! " 
 cried she, and thinking only of Frees, but glad to veil 
 her own great agony under cover of theirs ; then she 
 sobbed bitterly. 
 
 " It's better to grieve for him now, Laura, my poor 
 girl, than later," said one woman, compassionately. 
 
 " It might have been a greater sorrow by far to 
 have married him ! " said another, a widow of some 
 years, who had had a worthless husband. 
 
 '' 1 didn't want to marry him ! " retorted Laura, 
 rather sharply, frightened to find her secret out, for 
 she was now doubly afraid after what her father knew 
 that he would be angry. " Frees Vaughan was no- 
 thing to me — only I'm so sorry for his mother and 
 sisters ! " 
 
 Laura's tears fell into her milk can, as she placed 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 281 
 
 her head against the warm side of the cow and leant 
 over it. 
 
 She wished she could have returned down the 
 hill by herself, so as to be able freely to give way 
 to her feelings, but those who had done first waited 
 for the rest, and she could make no excuse either for 
 going first or tarrying last. 
 
 They again talked over all that was known ; for 
 incidents of this tragic kind bear telling many times. 
 And now she heard all that they themselves knew ; 
 how Frees had left his home never intending to return, 
 how he had met with young Jones Cae-eithin at the 
 Merlyn-da on the Tuesday morning ; and the girls that 
 with Laura had seen him comins^ round the back of 
 Pentaren on his way to Tanrallt, thought themselves 
 fortunate, for they not only had seen him, but also 
 the gun with which he had gone to shoot young 
 pufiins. 
 
 Laura remembered with an anguish of unutterable 
 tenderness and pain that he had assuredly come round 
 by Fridd-bach to see her, to take leave of her, if in- 
 deed it were true that he was leaving his home and 
 country for ever. 
 
 Oh, if she had but seen him ! If she had had 
 but one last word, one last look, it seemed to her that 
 she could have borne his loss ! and unable again to 
 keep back her tears, she lamented for the grief and 
 loss of poor old Jones Cae-eithin, who loved his 
 nephew so dearly, and who had now nobody to look 
 after him since he was gone ! 
 
 Poor Laura ! it would have been a comfort to her 
 
282 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 if she had known anything of Jones Pentraeth, that 
 she might have wept under cover of all his family ! 
 
 At length she was at home again ; with nobody 
 here to control her or pry into her feelings, for her 
 brother had taken his breakfast in her absence and was 
 gone down to his father ; and by this time both of 
 them must know the terrible news. 
 
 Laura had no keep-sake from Frees. Much as she 
 always admired his curling brown hair, she never had 
 a lock of it. She had no book of his ; he had never 
 given her a trinket or a ribbon. She had not even a 
 flower of his gathering. She felt poorer than a beg- 
 gar, as she looked round and saw nothing that was 
 his, or that had belonged to him ; nothing even that he 
 had touched, for he had never been in the habit of 
 coming to Fridd-bach. She could not say to herself, 
 here he had stood or sate, so that henceforth that spot 
 might be sacred. He had never spoken a loving word 
 to her within the house, nor yet in the potato field. 
 Nothing here was made precious by his love or by 
 his presence. 
 
 Then she remembered her father's prayers regard- 
 ing him two evenings before, and the dark implication 
 that was coupled with his name, which, of course, she 
 now rejected more resolutely than ever. It was his 
 father's cruelty which had driven him away from his 
 home. He was a hard, money-loving man, unworthy 
 to be the father of so brave and free-hearted a son as 
 Frees ! 
 
 Foor Frees ! How beautiful and almost god-like 
 seemed to the girl's fancy that young manly form ! 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 2S3 
 
 But where was it now ! Tossing and heaving in the 
 heavy cruel waters, which, having done their death- 
 work of yesterday, were now dimpled with sunshine 
 as the brisk wind, no longer a tempest, skimmed over 
 their surface, fringing every wave with a white crest 
 of foam ! How different to the remembered beauty of 
 life was the wave-washed body, now receding, now 
 advancing, heaving and rocking to and fro in its 
 watery cradle, the thick hair waving like dark sea- 
 weed on a strange, white shell, the handsome white 
 hands, of which the boy was so proud, clenched, the 
 eyes shut in their dark hollows ! 
 
 Laura thought nothing of this ; she thought only of 
 the handsome youth whom she idolized, and unable to 
 bear the house where he had left no memory, she ran 
 to the little rocky solitude above Bedd-Odo, where 
 they had plighted their troth hardly a month before, 
 and where it seemed to her every flower and blade of 
 grass was redolent of him. 
 
 But all was vacuity there. The great astoundiiig 
 sense of his loss met her there also. Nothing seemed 
 to speak to her of him. This great, new misery stood 
 between her and the past, so that she could not see it, 
 could not realize it any longer. Everything was 
 changed, and she returned home believing that there 
 was no more any joy for her in this world. 
 
 Before evening everybody had returned from 
 Priestholm. There was not the shadow of a hope re- 
 maining, yet still Grono Vaughan refused to believe 
 in his son's death, and Godfrey Rutherford, who had a 
 prejudice against this man, was almost impatient over 
 
284 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 the obstinacy of his unbelief. He spoke but little to 
 any one ; all he did say was, 
 
 '^ Don't tell me he is drowned ! I know better. I 
 know he is alive. He is gone to Liverpool. Young 
 Jones Cae-eithin and Jones Pentraeth may be drown- 
 ed, but Frees is not ! " 
 
 "When any one asserted the contrary belief or fear, 
 Grono cursed them. 
 
 It was but the natural emotion of the father's 
 heart, the good Welsh people said, and pitied him. 
 Few women could look at his ashen face and the deep 
 despair that was stamped upon it without tears. 
 
 Lisabeth, too, was inconsolable ; and when she 
 heard that he was gone puffin shooting, she knew, she 
 said, that he was doing that to please her ; he meant 
 to bring them home to her. It was thus he loved 
 her and sought to give her pleasure ! and then, like 
 the bereaved Rachels of old, the voice of her lament- 
 ation would be heard afar off, bewailing her son 
 who was not, and refusing to be comforted. 
 
 It spread abroad that there had been a quarrel 
 between Grono and his son, and that in consequence 
 he had left his home. But this proceeded neither 
 from Grono nor his wife, who each, as by a tacit con- 
 sent, were jealous of this portion of the unhappy past 
 becoming known. The landlord of the Merlyn-da, 
 pressed by the general curiosity, told that which his 
 guest had over-heard in the conversation of the bed- 
 fellows. Thus not only their intention of going to 
 Liverpool, engaging themselves to some ship, and leav- 
 ing their country for ever, was known, but also that 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 285 
 
 this quarrel with his father was the mainspring of his 
 determination and present action. 
 
 Grono could not bear to be at Glanrafon. The 
 grief and reproaches of his wife were a torment to him, 
 and he resolved to go to Liverpool and seek for his 
 son amongst the shipping. But he did not go. On 
 the morning of the following day the shattered boat 
 which had been picked up by one of the small vessels 
 trading between Euncorn and Dol-y-maenan for 
 quarried stone, was brought back to its owner, and 
 shortly after came the news that one of the bodies had 
 been washed up on the northern point of the Great 
 Orme's Head, and thither went the miserable Grono, 
 relieved perhaps by having a definite call somewhere, 
 and again a positive necessity for action. 
 
 Again he was mounted, but not now on the fiery 
 Ebol, for though I did not detain myself to relate it at 
 the time, yet it must be told. That valuable young 
 horse had fallen lame. It was overwrous^ht in its 
 gallop to Penmon Point, and in recrossing from 
 Priestholm missed its footing on leaving the rocky 
 shore, swimming beside the boat, and was only re- 
 covered with cliiRculty. The near shoulder was sprain- 
 ed. Grono could only get back as far as Beaumaris, 
 where he left it under the care of a farrier, himself 
 arriving in the darkness of the late evening at home, 
 so that he came in unseen ; and the news of this second 
 disaster had not reached Fridd-bach when he again 
 set out, on his hurried ride, mounted on the best 
 horse he had, for the Great Orme's Head. 
 
 He rode again as for life and death, as if there 
 
286 THE COST OF CA.ERGWYN. 
 
 might be a cliauce of saving life, but not knowing 
 as yet which body this might prove to be. When he 
 reached the spot a second had been recovered, thrown 
 up by the heavily in-coming tide about a mile from the 
 place where the first was found. This second was 
 that of his son — the first was that of Jones Pentraeth ; 
 and the coroner, who had been summoned to make his 
 inquest on the first body, now made it also on the se- 
 cond. 
 
 The father and brother of Jones Pentraeth who had 
 come across in a boat that morning were already pre- 
 paring for his interment, with as little trouble or cir- 
 cumstance as possible, in the small burial-ground sur- 
 rounding the then ruinous though now beautifully 
 restored church of St Tudno, on the higher part of the 
 rock. But Grono would not hear of this as regarded 
 his son. The cold, business-like way in which these 
 men set about and accomplished their work for the 
 dead jarred upon his feelings. They spoke freely 
 of the unhappy young man's delinquencies ; of the 
 trouble he had given, of the money he had spent, and 
 the disgrace he had brought upon them. It seemed to 
 them a satisfaction, rather than otherwise, to get him as 
 quietly and as inexpensively under the sod as possible. 
 
 Grono turned away from them with a degree of 
 disgust bordering on repugnance, and ordered a 
 hasty cofiin to contain the poor drowned body, 
 which yet in its lifeless humanity looked so touch- 
 ingly, so appealingly like itself. If the father could 
 then have cancelled from the eternal reality of the 
 past the blow which he had given it, he would have 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 287 
 
 saciificed half of his remaining life. Again he said 
 nothing of his feelings ; the same wan, ashen look 
 remained on his face, but in manner he was ap- 
 parently calmer than when professing still to be- 
 lieve his son living, and every one felt for him the 
 deepest compassion and respect. 
 
 It was not till the following morning that the 
 <;offin was ready. Then having hired a cart and 
 horse with a man to drive, he returned home with 
 his dead ; himself riding beside the cart, contented to 
 go at a foot's pace, and never hurrying the driver, 
 nor showing any impatience or desire to reach home 
 before the slow journey should be accomplished. 
 
 The sad news preceded them ; but daylight 
 was long past, and the people of Tanrallt and Dol-y- 
 maenan, who had been on the look-out for them all 
 day, were in bed and asleep when the cart and its 
 sad attendant passed by. It reached Glanrafon a 
 little before midnight. 
 
 Lisabeth, who had kept blankets in readiness 
 ever since the news came of the sad disaster, in 
 some exaggerated hope of having to use them for 
 his restoration, folded them together when she had 
 seen the sad face of the dead ; then turning to her 
 husband with set teeth and tearless eyes, she said : 
 
 " This is your doing, and as God lives, I will 
 never forgive you ! " 
 
 She took the dead body under her especial care, 
 and determined to have a great funeral. 
 
 It was now the early Sunday morning, and she 
 and the women busied themselves about the poor 
 
288 • THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 sodden corpse. He had been despoiled of nothings 
 save of seven sovereigns wliicli his father had found 
 in his pocket, and transferred to his own. Not that 
 he was looking for money, but with an honest, fatherly 
 yearning for some letter or paper containing a few 
 farewell words to himself. Nothing of this kind, 
 however, was to be found. 
 
 To his mother he came outwardly undespoiled. 
 The great treasure of life was gone, but all his 
 little fopperies were upon him ; he still wore his 
 bottle-green coat and yellow waistcoat, but one boot 
 was off, as if, in the first sense of his danger, he had 
 sought to disencumber himself of his boots, but had 
 been unable to do so fully; his frilled shirt was 
 fastened at the breast with a brooch, said to be gold, 
 and ornamented with green glass, representing 
 emeralds, which Laura thought beautiful. His 
 mother found no money in his pockets ; nothing 
 but his knife, his comb, a folding cork-screw, and 
 his song-book, now soaked almost into a paste, but 
 which she carefully dried and preserved with all the 
 other trifles, as invaluable relics. 
 
 Old Gwen Thomas, who was noted for her skill 
 in dressing the dead, was his mother's helper. It 
 had been at first their intention to bestow upon the 
 corpse all the curious ornamentation common to the 
 Welsh, in which the dead are made to lie in their 
 narrow bed as if amongst "moss and flowers, some- 
 what artistically made with curled v/ool, and for 
 which Gwen was so famous ; but for the white 
 drenched corpse which had lain in the water two 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 289 
 
 days and nights, such decoration seemed even to 
 them a mockery. They could not invite friends 
 and neighbours to come in and see it in all its 
 coffined show; there^re, when the mother's trem- 
 bling hands had cut away some of the rich brown 
 hail', she set about making for him a new flannel 
 shroud, every thread of which had been spun by her 
 own hands. 
 
 Whilst this was going forward at Glanrafon, on 
 .the quiet Sunday morning, and whilst the little 
 congregation was in church at Tanrallt-vawr, the 
 body of young Jones Cae-eithin' was washed up 
 below Pentaren-bach, and in the afternoon brought 
 home to his poor old uncle, who mourned for him 
 with a grief no less than that of Glanrafon, though 
 much quieter. Grono, to whom his home had be- 
 come intolerable, went to Cae-eithin in good time 
 that morning, but before the body had been re- 
 covered, and sate some hours with the old man, 
 saying little himself, and perhaps scarcely listening 
 to his neighbour's grief over " the best lad in the 
 parish." 
 
 Simeon went down to Glanrafon before church- 
 time to see Grono, but he, as I have said, was gone 
 to Cae-eithin ; and in the afternoon he set ofi" to 
 Bangor to bring home the girls for the funeral, 
 'taking the rectory on his way to arrange all that 
 was necessary with the Kev. Edward Edwards for 
 the occasion, having purposely avoided being at 
 church in the morning from his unwillingness to 
 
 VOL. I. 19 
 
290 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 encounter Simeon, and whicli probably was also one 
 cause of his visit to Cae-eithin. 
 
 Simeon, on his part, if the truth must be told, 
 came to Glanrafon thus early on the Sunday morn- 
 ing, less to sympathize with his friend than in sore 
 dismay to inquire after the unfortunate young horse. 
 Kichard Rowlands, who like a good neighbour had 
 undertaken to finish his mowing for him, had brought 
 up the bad news of yr Ebol's disaster on Saturday 
 evening on his way home. 
 
 lanto again cried bitterly about the young horse, 
 and wished it is impossible to say how many bad 
 things might happen to Grono, whereby his father 
 was again greatly shocked, though he himself was as 
 angry as he could well be at this breach of trust, 
 and the sufiering caused to his favourite animal. 
 
 On the Sunday morning, however, Grono was. 
 not to be seen, and in the state of affliction in which 
 Simeon found Lisabeth, he could not ex^^ress his 
 displeasure to her. On the road, however, by a 
 singular chance, he met the Beaumaris horse-doctor, 
 who had been sent for to Birllan-deg, and from him 
 he learned the exact state of the horse. The man, 
 according to his account, had been up all the first 
 night, fomenting the injured shoulder. It was now . 
 better, and rest for the horse, and all the good 
 attention which he engaged to pay, would, he 
 assured Simeon, set him right again, at least to all 
 appearance. In the spring he might be sold, and 
 nobody be the wiser. 
 
 But this was not satisfactory as regarded a 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 291 
 
 creature that never had a flaw or blemish before, 
 and Simeon's mind was tossed to and fro. 
 
 Alas ! thought he, how hard it is to be a thorough 
 Christian ! 
 
 The suffering, injured horse was scarcely ever 
 out of his thoughts. It was vain determining not 
 to be angry. The creature's suffering, the deterior- 
 ation of his value, the breach of trust, rankled 
 bitterly in his mind as he dug the grave for the 
 poor drowned youth. 
 
 Laura's heart was unappeasable for some memento 
 of the lost Frees. She knew that his body was at 
 Glanrafon, and that it lay in its coffin in the parlour 
 on the bedstead, from which the feather-bed had 
 been removed, for these particulars were kno^yn, 
 and she had schooled herself to composure as she 
 listened to the talk of the women as they went to 
 their morning milking ; the gravest of them repeat- 
 ing texts of Scripture, as Simeon himself had done 
 the night before, to clench the moral of youth being 
 cut off in the midst of sin, and the judgment of 
 God on transgressors which comes like a thief in the 
 night. 
 
 Laura believed that she could not live without 
 once more seeing Frees, even though it were his 
 dead body, and if possible obtaining something which 
 had been a part of himself. A lock of his hair 
 was what she coveted, wondering now why she had 
 not already cut one off for herself. But she had 
 never looked forward to such a cruel parting, and 
 her young love had been very modest and timid. 
 
292 THE COST OF CAERGWYlSr. 
 
 Now, however, she was desperate. In a day or two 
 he would be laid in the grave, and the chance of ob- 
 taining this precious relic would be lost for ever. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, therefore, she went down 
 to Glanrafon, having heard from her father that 
 Grono was going to Bangor, but not knowing ex- 
 actly on what plea to present herself, for people in 
 Dol-y-maenan did not come ceremoniously to in- 
 quire after health with compliments and condolences, 
 nor if they had done so, was there any one in whose 
 name she could have gone, for her father, as she knew, 
 had been there that morning. To Glanrafon, however, 
 she went, intending to ask for Gwen Thomas, with 
 some excuse about her granddaughter, and through 
 her obtain a sight of the body. With a trembling 
 heart she walked softly into the kitchen. All was 
 still ; not a soul was there. The parlour, she knew, 
 opened out of that room, and stepping forward, 
 within sight of the door, saw that it was open. She 
 listened, and now heard the voices of Lisabeth and 
 Gwen Thomas talking somewhere together, but not 
 in the parlour. 
 
 She advanced to the open door on tip-toe, and 
 entered the room ; she saw the signs of the death- 
 ceremony at once ; the looking-glass was covered 
 with a napkin, and candles, ready to be lighted, 
 stood on a table at the bed's-foot. Her impulse was 
 to burst into tears and weep aloud, so much was she 
 affected by the sight even of these things ; but she 
 restrained herself and went forward. An old woman 
 of Dol-y-maenan, whom she knew, and who had 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 293 
 
 been left by Lisabeth in charge of the dead, was 
 fast asleep, on the other side of the room, in her 
 chair. The coffin stood on the bed covered only with 
 a sheet. Breathless, and without a moment's pause, 
 and silent herself as the dead, Laura, whose scissors 
 hung at her side with her pincushion, lifted them 
 with her right hand, whilst with her left she softly 
 put aside the sheet intending to possess herself of 
 one little lock of hair. But she did not ac- 
 complish her purpose. "Whether it were her hand 
 touching the * cold dead, or the beholding the mar- 
 ble whiteness of that rigid face, which overcame 
 her, I know not, but her pulses seemed to stop, a 
 dull, dead unconsciousness stole over her ; her sight 
 grew dim, and she sank down upon the bed beside 
 the coffin. 
 
 How long she thus lay she knew not ; probably 
 only a few seconds, for the old woman, hearing a 
 movement or a sound, began to stir, and Laura, re- 
 gaining consciousness, cast off the death-like swoon 
 by an effort of strong will and the terror of her posi- 
 tion ; and not daring to look again at the dead, she 
 stole from the room, through the kitchen and out of 
 the house. 
 
 The old woman, terrified in the belief that the 
 spirit of the unhappy Frees, still lingering about his 
 body, was then in the chamber, sate for a moment 
 staring, like one paralyzed, in her chair ; then rising 
 and hurrying away from the room, presented her- 
 self pale and trembling before Lisabeth and Gwen 
 Thomas, who were busy about the shroud in the 
 
294 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 chamber over the kitchen, declaring that a spirit had 
 been with her in the room ; that the sheet was 
 turned back from the open coffin, and the face- cloth 
 removed from the dead. They followed her down, 
 both greatly agitated, Lisabeth again weeping bit- 
 terly, and seeing these outward signs, as the old 
 woman had said, believed, indeed, that the yet un- 
 resting spirit had been there. 
 
 After this no one, not even his mother, dared to 
 remain alone in the chamber. Watchers sate by the 
 corpse all night with candles lighted, and meat and 
 drink to keep up their strength. Poor Caleb was 
 one of these. An awe-struck silence fell upon him 
 when the corpse came into the house ; and he was 
 so quiet, and so ready to run at their bidding, that 
 the women let him remain near the body. He 
 stayed, therefore, with the watchers through the 
 night, even after the coffin-lid was screwed down. 
 
 Grono returned from Bangor the next day, bring- 
 ing back with him the two girls, and after this he 
 seemed able to remain at home. He had always 
 been very fond of his daughter Nesta ; she was his 
 favourite child, and was naturally of a lively and 
 winning disposition. Both she and Megan cried 
 passionately, wildly almost, for the death of their 
 brother ; but they were young, and did not naturally 
 take it so deeply to heart as their parents. And 
 this was reasonable enough. Besides, as regarded 
 the parents, there were other causes known only ta 
 them, beyond the melancholy fact of his sudden and 
 unhappy death, which made it doubly afflictive. The 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 295^ 
 
 mother, however, though so bitterly angry against 
 her husband for the blow which he had given his 
 son, never spoke of it, either to the girls or to any 
 of her female acquaintances, even in her most con- 
 fidential mood, from the fear lest the provoca- 
 tion which led to it might be revealed to the 
 world. 
 
 The funeral of Frees Yaughan was to be a great 
 one, as Lisabeth desired, and the morning of the 
 day on which it took place was in character, gloomy,^ 
 with a dull, grey haze, coming up from the sea like 
 a funereal pall. Twelve young men of the parish, 
 all near of an age to the dead, were invited to alter- 
 nate in carrying the corpse to the grave, a consider- 
 able distance. These were in the place of the near- 
 est of kin, for Grono had no immediate relatives, 
 and Lisabeth's were in Merionethshire, nor had in- 
 tercourse with her family been kept up ; otherwise 
 the bearers, according to custom, would have been 
 selected from amongst them. The evening before 
 the funeral was held as a weeping night, when the 
 family and immediate friends assembled, and prayers 
 were read, and a little service for the occasion per- 
 formed, the rector coming to Glanrafon for the pur- 
 pose, and being carefully kept sober for the duties 
 of the morrow. Simeon Hughes too was there. 
 
 The funeral took place in the afternoon. After 
 a portion of the burial service had been read in the 
 house, the coffin was brought out and placed on a 
 bier, and according to old custom, a number of 
 small wheaten loaves, each with a small piece of 
 
296 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 money stuck into it, were given across tlie coffin to 
 the poorest people of the parish, who came consider- 
 able distances to receive them, together with a draught 
 from a large mug of ale. Lisabeth herself performed 
 this duty, standing rigidly by the coffin, her tall 
 figure attired in her new mourning, pale and thin, 
 with a stern, strange expression of countenance, 
 which seemed to sit like a mask on her face, and 
 which was the effort she was making to keep down 
 her grief whilst performing this charitable service 
 which she believed might bring a blessing to the 
 dead. 
 
 When this was over she went back into the 
 house, and throwing up her arms wildly like one be- 
 side herself, lifted up her voice and wept. 
 
 The funeral procession was stayed a full half 
 hour before she was again composed; then taking 
 the arm of her eldest daughter she placed herself 
 as chief mourner behind the coffin, and Grono 
 followed with Nesta. People thought this a strange 
 arrangement, but attributed it to the bewilderment 
 of her grief. Her husband, however, knew that there 
 was another cause, and made no opposition to it. In 
 this order the funeral procession moved on ; a con- 
 siderable number of people, both men and women, 
 from Dol-y-maenan and the neighbourhood, each 
 with more or less signs of mourning, falling behind 
 into the procession. When it reached the end of 
 the lane which led from Glanrafon into the main road, 
 another company was waiting, with whom was God- 
 frey Eutherford on horseback. Here the coffin was 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 29T 
 
 again set down, the immediate relations and friends 
 knelt, and the Lord's prayer was repeated, and again 
 moving on, the dull clouds which had hung low all 
 the morning began to fall in rain. 
 
 " Gwynfyd y meiru ar y rhai mae dagreu yr 
 nef yn disgyn,'' said Gwen Thomas to her neigh- 
 bour, which is in English, " Happy are the dead on 
 whom the tears of heaven fall ; " to which her neiofh- 
 hour replied somewhat reprovingly, as thinking it 
 unseemly to quote a profane author on such an 
 occasion, ^* Gwerthfawr y'ngolwg yr Arglwydd yw 
 marwoiaeth ei saint ef," though how the words ap- 
 plied in the present instance it was difficult to say, 
 for she pronounced, in the words of David, that the 
 death of His saints was precious to the Lord ; where- 
 upon Grwen Thomas heaved a deep sigh, half a 
 groan, and not to be behind her neighbour in refer- 
 ence to Holy writ, said, " Gwyn eu byd y meirw y 
 rhai sydd yn marw yn yr Arglwydd,'' " Blessed 
 are the dead which die in the Lord ! " to which all 
 who were within sound of her voice responded with 
 a deep sigh. How much farther the sighing and the 
 quotation of Scripture might have extended I cannot 
 say, for just then a loud sound of psalm-singing began 
 at the head of the train, which was listened to in 
 profound silence, if not joined in with, by the remoter 
 followers. 
 
 Laura, in the mourning whichher mother had worn 
 nearly twenty years before on the death of her own 
 father, the good shoe-maker John Jones, and hold- 
 ing lanto by the hand, came last in the procession. 
 
298 THE COST OF CAERGWYN. 
 
 This mourning to her was new ; it was also quite 
 seemly and proper, for it had been carefully worn 
 and kept, and Laura, who as yet had never deviated 
 from the AVelsh costume, as then universal for old 
 and young, did not look more antiquated in her 
 mother's dress than in her own. She had wept so 
 long and so bitterly in secret already, that her weep- 
 ing now was of a dull, quiet character, a submission 
 to an inevitable decree ; besides, all the women round 
 her were weeping, for, independently of the natural 
 sadness of following the youthful dead, snatched 
 away thus cruelly in a moment, there was something 
 imposing in the long procession ; the low psalm- 
 melody floating on the air, now dying away at a 
 turn of the road, then swelling forth again like the 
 prolonged wail of grief, and as neighbour after 
 neighbour augmented the procession, and looked 
 along the line, and saw scattered amongst the walk- 
 ing company the horses of the higher class, or of 
 those who had come from a distance, subdued to a 
 walking pace, the whole was a thrilling sight ; and 
 other eyes than those of women were filled with 
 tears. Laura therefore wept in company. 
 
 Simeon dug the grave the day before, and Laura, 
 with a tender sentiment, had dropped into it, that 
 very morning, a nosegay of wild flowers, the pretti- 
 est she could gather, and which with a little lock of 
 her own hair she had tied together with blue sewing 
 silk. She kissed the flowers tenderly for the sake of 
 him who was gone, and dropped them into the grave 
 as her ofiering to be buried with him. Nobody 
 
THE COST OF CAERGWYX. 299 
 
 knew that she had done so, and it was now a pleasant 
 thought, if any thought could be called pleasant con- 
 nected with the subject, that something belonging to 
 her would lie in the grave with him. 
 
 The coffin was carried into the church ; the 
 people poured in after the mourners, till the little 
 edifice was crowded. A portion of the burial service 
 having been read, the cofiin was raised from the 
 bier, and began slowly to move, when Grono stepped 
 forward and, according to custom, placed his offer- 
 ing for the clergyman in the little wooden tray fixed 
 on the altar rails for the purpose. The rest followed, 
 all, likewise, leaving their offering in the same way, 
 and going out of the church in regular succession, 
 down the aisle on the side opposite to that by which 
 they had entered, every one as they passed out placing 
 also their smaller offering for the clerk in a similar 
 little tray at the door. 
 
 As they emerged from the church the rain was 
 over, and the afternoon sun shone amidst broken 
 and softly dissolving clouds. The burial service 
 was concluded at the grave, and the coffin slowly 
 lowered into it, after which people began to move 
 away. When, however, the space was cleared, 
 Lisabeth still sate on the bier, and Grono and her 
 daughters stood by her, a group of women also 
 lingered near, in the belief that she might faint or 
 fall into a swoon. 
 
 But by and by she rose of herself, and having 
 looked once more into the grave, at the head of 
 which Simeon Hughes was standing with his spade 
 
300 THE COST OF CAERGWYN; 
 
 ready to fill in the soil, slie walked slowly away, as 
 if forgetful and regardless of all but her own sorrow, 
 taking neither her husband's arm, nor yet that of 
 Megan, and they joining her, all walked home 
 together, a silent group. 
 
 When the grave was filled in, Caleb presented 
 himself with branches of yew and laurel, which he 
 had been to Birllan-deg to fetch for the purpose of 
 decoration, as was usual, and when some of the 
 people who still lingered in the church-yard ofiered 
 the poor lad a few small coins according to custom, 
 on such occasions, he put aside the hands thus 
 offering him money, and with a look of unutterable 
 sorrow, muttered, " It's love, love, love ! '' 
 
 Thus Frees Vaughan was buried, and the follow- 
 ing Sunday, and for many a Sunday afterwards, 
 when his grave was visited by his family and ac- 
 quaintance, it was found fresh with evergreens and 
 scattered with lowers. This attention was attributed 
 to poor, half-witted Caleb, but it was not all his 
 doing; nevertheless he received many a little in- 
 dulgence from Lisabeth in consequence of this belief. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PKIXTERS.