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In this mutual knowledge, mutual help, in minute as in great things, as well as in the recognition of a common nobility of mind, the love of the two was fortified. Emilia had not been left by Mr. Powys without the protection of a woman's society in her singular position.
As long as Owain Gwynedd lived the unusual spectacle was seen of a prince of South Wales and a prince of North Wales working harmoniously together. But after Owain's death Rhys fought with his successors over the possession of Merioneth, while Owain Cyfeiliog, the poet-prince of Powys, did all he could to thwart him.
The idea that the Tinleys strove to catch at her skirts made Arabella spiteful. Up to the threshold of Besworth, Freshfield, Mr. Powys, Tracy, and Arabella kept the wheel of a dazzling run of small-talk, throwing intermittent sparks. "You are anxious to know?" said Arabella, hesitatingly. "To know, dear?" echoed Laura. "There was, I presumed, something you did not hear."
They found Arabella in her room, crying like an unchastened school-girl; and their first idea was one of intense condemnation fresh offences on the part of Mrs. Chump being conjectured. Little by little Arabella sobbed out what she had heard that day from Mr. Powys. After the first stupor Adela proposed to go to her father instantly, and then suggested that they should all go.
"Good heaven!" The exclamation came from Adela. "Oh, Lady Gosstre! I fear to tell you what I think she has done." The scene of the rival Clubs was hurriedly related, together with the preposterous pledge given by Emilia, that she would sing at the Ipley Booth: "Among those dreadful men!" "They will treat her respectfully," said Mr. Powys.
Powys was a travelled Welsh squire, Lady Gosstre's best talker, on whom, as Brookfield learnt to see, she could perfectly rely to preserve the child from any little drawing-room sins or dinner-table misadventures. This gentleman had made sacrifices for the cause of Italy, in money, and, it was said, in blood. He knew the country and loved the people.
To be above the familiarity of Jane and Hester was no small temptation, but still she hesitated. "Madam, I thank you, I thank their Majesties," she said, "but I cannot do it thus." "I see what you mean, Miss Woodford," said Lady Powys, who was a truly noble woman. "Your motives must be above suspicion even to yourself.
But, imagine in your own mind, my Powys instead of passion, of rage, of tempest, she is frozen wiz a repose. Do you, hein? sink it will come out," Pericles eyed Merthyr with a subtle smile askew, "I have sot so; it will come out when she is one day in a terrible scene . . . Mon Dieu! it was a terrible scene for me when I looked on ze clout zat washed ze blood of ze terrible assassination.
"Lord," said Gwydion, "I shall never rest until I have tidings of my nephew." "Verily," said Math, "may Heaven be thy strength." Then Gwydion set forth and began to go forward. And he went through Gwynedd and Powys to the confines. And when he had done so, he went into Arvon, and came to the house of a vassal, in Maenawr Penardd. And he alighted at the house, and stayed there that night.
The Prince of Powys had, with considerable military skill, adopted a plan of attack suitable to the fiery genius of his followers, and calculated to alarm on every point the feeble garrison.
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