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Updated: May 16, 2025
In spite of the attractions of her beautiful home, and the infirmities of advancing years, not a summer passes without Mrs. Coe the elder revisiting Gethin. The castled rock, up which she used to run so lightly, is beyond her powers; she is content to gaze on that with dewy eyes; but she never fails to seek the church-yard on the hill.
When we came down to breakfast he was gone, and every one will think he stole the money. Forty sovereigns, mother! Will he ever come back and clear it up?" "Some day it will be plain, but now we must be satisfied to know it was not Gethin." "No one else will believe us, mother." "Oh! I am used to that," said the old woman, with a patient smile; "that makes no difference in God's plans.
"No, indeed, I must go," she answered; "we are preparing supper." As she followed Ann through the gap Gethin looked after her with a smile in his eyes. "There's bonnie flowers growing on the slopes of Garthowen, and no mistake," he said. Will examined the edge of his sickle and did not answer.
The Gethin Castle Inn was a much better house of entertainment than might have been looked for in a spot so secluded from the world, and far from the great arteries of travel. A coast-road passed through the little village leading from Turlock to the now almost disused harbor at Polwheel, and that was the sole means of getting to Gethin save on foot or horseback.
"Who did it, mother? and why did Gethin go away?" "I don't know," said the old woman. "I shall never know perhaps who did it, but I know it was not Gethin." "Why did I see him, mother? I awoke suddenly and went into the passage, and there he was. I wish I had slept sounder, for that sight will always be on my mind.
And as she spoke she laid her hand on the box which Gethin was closing, and drew out its contents. There was a greedy glitter in her bold eyes as she asked, "Who's that for?" and she clasped it round her own neck, while Gethin's dark face flushed.
The dusk thickened into dark; and the tired horses for the stage had been a very long one made but slow way. "Faster! faster!" was Richard's constant cry, till the brow of the last hill was gained, and the scanty lights of Gethin showed themselves. Then it suddenly struck him for the first time what unnecessary speed had been made.
Everyone said something except Gethin, who only glanced at her with a smile and a sparkle of black eyes, for he had seen her many times during the day, and he was already, according to the fashion of his country, beginning to hide his love under an outward appearance of stolid indifference; but this did not offend Morva, for it saved her from the ordeal of curious eyes and broad comments, and Gethin felt that the tender flower of love was well shielded from rude contact with the outside world, by the secrecy behind which a Welshman hides his love, for, in a hundred ways unnoticed and unseen by those around him, there were opportunities of apprising the girl of his constant and watchful interest.
He was, as it were, in a prison on wheels, guarded by two jailers. Escape would have been hopeless, even had it been judicious to make the attempt. His only consolation was, that Solomon Coe was no longer with him to jeer at his dejected looks. He had started for Gethin with the news, doubtless as welcome to Trevethick as to himself, of the prisoner's committal.
Oh, Morva! had I known when we were boy and girl together that thou couldst be so false, I would never have treasured thee in my heart, but would have turned and fled as Gethin did, instead of clinging to thee, and for thy sake stopping in the dull old home when the world was all before me. And now to come home and find that thou art tired of me art cold to me, and hast forgotten me!
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