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What do you want? she exclaimed in a suppressed voice. 'My master says the carriage is ready, and he thinks you had better go, ma'am. Colonel Vaughan has just come in. The heat has made his nose bleed so violently that he cannot be ready for dinner, but will be at Pentre for the ball, ma'am, my master says. 'Very well; I shall be ready in a few moments.
Nevertheless Tom would not give up his literary pursuits, but continued scribbling, and copying out songs and carols. When he was about ten he formed an acquaintance with an old man, chapel- reader in Pentre y Foelas, who had a great many old books in his possession, which he allowed Tom to read; he then had the honour of becoming an amanuensis to a poet.
"This house, and those yonder," pointing to the cottages past which I had come, "are Pentre y Dwr. "Is it called Pentre Dwr," said I, "because of the water of the brook?" "Likely enough," said she, "but I never thought of the matter before." She was blear-eyed, and her skin, which seemed drawn tight over her forehead and cheek-bones, was of the colour of parchment. I asked her how old she was.
They struck into another path, and Colonel Vaughan saw no more of Gladys that day, though he peeped into various stray corners of the house in the hope of doing so. Moreover, he found Freda captious and cross, and particularly annoyed at his and her father's visit to Pentre.
I thanked him, and said I would go by it; before leaving him I asked to what place the road led which I had been following. "To Pentre Castren," he replied. I struck across the fields and should probably have tumbled half-a-dozen times over pales and the like, but for the light of the Cefn furnaces before me which cast their red glow upon my path.
Finding she had no Saesneg I repeated the question in Welsh, whereupon she told me that it was called Pentre Voelas. "And whom does the 'Plas' belong to yonder amongst the groves?" said I. "It belongs to Mr Wynn, sir, and so does the village and a great deal of the land about here.
However, all things come to an end, and an heiress's twenty-first birthday amongst them. Miss Nugent's did not finish till three o'clock in the morning, at which hour, Mr and Miss Gwynne and Colonel Vaughan were driving home from the festivities at Pentre.
As if by mutual consent, they take the turn that leads to Pentre, Lady Mary Nugent's place. It is about a mile from Glanyravon, and beautifully situated on a hill that commands a fine prospect of dale, wood, and river. The handsome mother and daughter are at home, and hail the arrivals with great glee.
The marks of this battle are upon him and me to this day. At last, covered with a gore of blood, he was dragged home by his neighbours. He was in a dreadful condition, and many thought he would die. On the morrow there came an alarm that he was dead, whereupon I escaped across the mountain to Pentre y Foelas to the old man Sion Dafydd to read his old books."
"Those hogs are too fat to drive along the road," said I at last to the latter. "We brought them in a cart as far as the Pentre Dwr," said the man on horseback, "but as they did not like the jolting we took them out." "And where are you taking them to?" said. "To Llangollen," said the man, "for the fair on Monday." "What does that big fellow weigh?" said I, pointing to the largest hog.
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