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Updated: May 9, 2025
From time to time his bony fingers plucked restlessly at his beard, and now and again his lips stretched back over yellow teeth in an evil smile as he gloated over the details of his coming vengeance. And out in a chill upper hall Gwenith, the fair daughter of a black house, sat in a deep embrasure, her arms clinging to the heavy oak bars desperately.
Her eyes and her question shamed him, but he clung to his text doggedly, for he had loved her long and hopelessly in his wild, stubborn way, and this was his first and only desperate chance. "I love ye, Gwenith, I love ye!"
"If you fear my poor voice now, what will it be when all Wales is ringing with this last foul deed?" Tad breathed hard, then caught her wrists suddenly, crushing them in his fierceness: "Listen, Gwenith. After all I'm no Tavis I'm Gruffydd, and I love you." She shrank away with wide, fearful eyes, her breath coming in little painful gasps. "What what do you mean, Tad?" "I love you, Gwen." "And ?"
Then Gwenith ran in white and wild, and kneeling, buried her sobs in the drapery of the couch. And ere her father could question her a group of sombre figures filled the doorway. 'Twas a dream surely 'twas a fearful dream! Or were they ghosts? Yes, that was it; see the blood on them! He was either dreaming or these were the very dead. They drew up to the couch, Llyn and his tall, stern sons.
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