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True, their career had withdrawn them entirely from the old simple home circle, but this did not deter Ebben Owens from desiring strongly to emulate his ancestors.
She was a typical Welsh woman, of highly-strung nervous temperament, though placid in outward appearance and manners, unselfish even to self-effacement where her kindred were concerned, but wary and suspicious beyond the pale of relationship or love; a zealous religionist, but narrow and bigoted in the extreme. In his heart of hearts Ebben Owens also hated the Church.
"Here he is, I think," said Ebben Owens, as two gentlemen walked slowly up the lane, and watching them, he scarcely caught sight of a carriage that drove quickly by. But a glance was enough as it turned round the corner into the street. In it sat Will, accompanied by Dr. Owen, Colonel Vaughan, and his niece. "Was that Will?" said Ann, looking round.
'Tis a wonder, indeed, he didn't want to buy hay for the pig!" But she went out pleased, nevertheless, and spread a bed of yellow straw in readiness for her expected "company." "I wonder who is wanting to sell a pig now," she soliloquised. "I daresay Mishteer saw an old 'bare bones' passing that nobody else would buy, and is going to take pity on him." "Poor old Ebben Owens.
Is it needful to tell that she did stay long that Sara did guess where she was; and that there, in the moonlight, with the sea breeze whispering its own love messages in their ears, the words were spoken for which each had been thirsting ever since they had met there last? In the early sunrise of the next morning Ebben Owens, too, was crossing the moor.
"No," answered the girl, her seriousness vanishing at once. "Nothing's the matter; the calf is getting quite well." As she spoke Will arrived from church, wearing a black coat and a white cotton tie, his prayer-book under his arm. Ebben Owens looked at him with an air of proud satisfaction.
Morva nodded and bent to her work again, and the white sunbonnet leant against Daisy once more, and the sweet voice sang the old melody. When her pail was full she sighed as she watched Gwilym Morris and Will disappear through the lane to the high road. The annual corn-grinding. Ebben Owens was going to market in his rough jolting car, Dyc "pigstye" beside him, both dressed in their best frieze.
"Let him go," Ebben Owens had said to the tearful pleading Ann. "Let him go, child; it will do him good if he can't behave himself at home. Let him go, like many another rascal, and find out whether cold and hunger and starvation will suit him. Let him feel a pinch or two, and he'll soon come home again, and then perhaps he'll have come to his senses and give us less trouble here."
To clear out the barn next day was easy enough, but to get Dye and Ebben to the market on the following day would be impossible. It was the opening of the Sassiwn, and he knew that neither of the men would be absent on that occasion, even though disobedience should cost them their place.
Indeed, Mishteer, there's proud you must be of him!" And all this was incense to Ebben Owens's heart. In the first term of his college life Will fully realised his pleasantest anticipations, and now, if never before, he acknowledged to himself his deep indebtedness to Gwilym Morris; his own abilities he had never doubted.
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