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Why should not Will, the clever one of the family, his favourite son who had "topped" all the boys at the village school, and had taken so many prizes in the grammar school at Caer-Madoc why should not he gain distinction and preferment in the Church, and shed fresh lustre on the fading name of "Owens of Garthowen," for the name had lost its ancient prestige in the countryside?
The Gwenllian sailed about four months ago and would be back about now. Is that what you are expecting?" "Yes," said Sara, "Ebben Owens Garthowen is wearing his heart away longing for his son, and I think if I can see him I have news for him that will bring him to the old home."
All the way from Garthowen to fetch thee, my boy, so come as soon as thou canst." The writing was large and sprawly, it was addressed to "Gethin Owens, mate of the Gwenllian, Captain Price," and when Tom had departed, with the letter safe in his jacket pocket, the two women set themselves to wait as patiently as they could; but the hours dragged on heavily until tea-time.
The browns of autumn tingeing the moor, the very air full of its mellow richness, the plash of the waves on the rocks below the cliffs, the song of the reapers coming on the breeze, oh, yes, life was all glorious and beautiful on the Garthowen slopes just then. "To-morrow night is the 'cynos. Wilt be there, Morva?" asked Gethin.
'Tisn't Morva he has married at all! and that's how I thought a letter could not explain everything to thee as I could myself, and bring thee home to the old country again." Gethin shook his head. "No, no; I have said good-bye to Garthowen, I will never go there again." "Well! why?" said Sara, still holding his hands, and looking into his face with those compelling eyes of hers.
The doctors said they'd never seen a man so ill and yet recover. I took their word for it. But I knew nothing about it myself, for I was as happy as a king those weeks, roaming about Garthowen slopes, dancing in the mill, and whistling at the plough, and Morva at my side always. Dei anwl!
All the dogged obstinacy of his nature was roused, and the feeling that he was a wronged and injured man gave his voice a tone of indignant passion which told upon the girl's sensitive nature. "Oh, Will," she said, stretching out her hand towards him, "I did not think thou loved me like that! I cannot be cruel to thee; thou art a Garthowen, and for them I have often said I would lay down my life.
"Gethin it is, father bâch! come home to ask your forgiveness for all his foolish ways, and to stick to you and to old Garthowen for ever and ever." "Is it Gethin?" asked the old man, in a tone of awed astonishment; "is it Gethin indeed? Then God has forgiven me.
"But what do you think?" "A Bible, perhaps." "A Bible!" said Morva impatiently, "no no, not a Bible; Sara knows you have plenty of them at Garthowen, and she has too much sense to bring you another no! 'tisn't that! but oh, what will it be, I wonder?" And day after day this was the question that ran through her thoughts, "What will it be, I wonder?"
"A Garthowen man may drive his sheep, his oxen, and his horses to market, but to carry a bundle of brooms would not look well. Leave them and the fowls to the women, and the pigs to the men-servants that's my fancy." "Well, my fancy is to help this lassie," said Gethin. "She's got a tidy pair of ankles, whatever; let's see what her face is like." "'Tis Morva," said Will, rather sulkily.
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