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'Would Ebben Owens sell her, d'ye think? he asked, and he patted her side; but Daisy didn't like it, and she nearly kicked my pail over. 'Sell her! I said. 'What for would 'n'wncwl Ebben sell the best cow in his herd? No, no, said I. 'Show us one as good as her, and 'tis buying he'll be, and not selling." "Lol! lol!" said the old man; "thee mustn't be too sure, girl.
Every morning, mother says, when the sun rises, God is telling us, 'This is how I love you, this is how I will fill your hearts with warmth and light and joy. Now, isn't that true, 'n'wncwl Ebben?" "What about the mornings when the mist does not clear away, lass, but turns to driving rain?"
And there's the corn growing so fast, he will surely be here for the harvest." She knew herself it was all nonsense, realising it sometimes with a sudden sad wistfulness; but she quickly returned to her argument again. "Look at me now, 'n'wncwl Ebben! Morva Lloyd, whom you saved from the waves! Would I tell you anything that was not true?
"Look, now," she said, "how everything is bathed in light and beauty! Where are the grey shadows and the curling mists? All gone! 'Tis the same world, 'n'wncwl Ebben, dear, but the sun has come and chased away the darkness. 'Tis like the grace of God, so mother says, if we will open our hearts and let it in, it shines upon us like the sunlight.
"Oh, poor 'n'wncwl Ebben! No wonder he was sitting thinking and thinking in the chimney-corner!" "No, no wonder indeed, och i! och i! But now he has done the best thing for his own peace of mind." "Peace of mind!" said Morva. "I am afraid he will never have that, mother. He said when we were walking home together that he wished he could die; and I'm afraid he will before long.
'Tis for Garthowen, I think, 'n'wncwl Ebben is so sad Gethin has never come home, and that money, mother! who stole it and put it back again? We used to be so happy, but now it seems like the threatening of a stormy day." "Sometimes those stormy days are the end of rough weather, lass. Through wind and cloud and lightning, God clears up the sky.
I used to think when I grew to be a woman I would marry Will, and settle down at Garthowen close to you here, mother fâch, and take care of 'n'wncwl Ebben when Ann and Gwilym Morris were married; but now, somehow, it all seems altered." The old woman looked at her long and thoughtfully. "Wait until later, child," she said.
Hallelujah! Amen! At the last words Morva stood aghast; this then was Gethin's terrible crime! "Oh! there's a boy he must have been!" said the girl, clasping her fingers as she leant over the big Bible. "Oh! dear, dear! no wonder 'n'wncwl Ebben was so angry! I don't forget how cross he was one day when I let the Bible fall; didn't his face alter!
"But no! no! no!" said the girl, linking her arm into the old man's, and turning back with him, "'tis closer and closer we must cling together, 'n'wncwl Ebben, dear, the further we go on the path of life. Did you think that Morva could pass you by? Ach y fi! no indeed! But where are you going so early?"
Gaining the door, where the fresh night air met her with refreshing coolness, she saw the tall, stooping figure moving slowly up the stony road, followed by the dejected Tudor, and in a moment was at his side. Taking his hard, rough hand in both her warm palms she lifted it to her cheek and pressed it to her neck. "'N'wncwl Ebben dear, and dear, and very dear! my heart is breaking for you!
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