CHAPTER XIV. WHERE IS EVAN?
The difference between a full-face portrait and a profile is not so great as the different aspect the same individual may present to different people. To his noble employer, Mr. Pryse was the very beau-ideal of a shrewd business man,—clear-headed, active, and indefatigable in his interests and that of the large estate under his control,—a man on whom he could rely, for dealing conscientiously alike with himself and his tenants, in his absence.
Those tenants saw only a hard, grasping, unscrupulous agent, who extorted high rents, made no allowance for bad seasons or failing crops, and who stifled complaints with an extra turn of the screw. They knew that all repairs and improvements, made at their own cost, would be wrested to the advantage of the noble landowner in the long-run, and were disheartened. There was an unwhisperable suspicion afloat that these said repairs went down as deductions from rents in the accounts submitted to his lord; but who ever had a chance of overhauling those accounts, or questioning crafty Mr. Pryse's unimpeachable integrity?
And about the time when William Edwards first found his way to Caerphilly Castle, which was in the year after George II. ascended the throne, the first faint breaths of a graver suspicion were wafted northwards, from Cardiff, in unaccountable and mysterious undertones.
Cardiff, now a flourishing and busy seaport, was then, in spite of its great castle, but a small, mean, and unimportant town, hardly to be called a port, its ancient prestige having fallen away like its gates and walls.
But about this period Mr. Pryse ceased to collect his lord's rents regularly at Caerphilly, and required that they should be brought to his office in Cardiff. This was a woful grievance to the bulk of the tenants, especially to elderly or infirm persons, or others remote from the county town. Had his lordship been at the Castle, no doubt his irate tenants would have sought his presence in a body, and made common cause against the common oppressor; but no such opportunity occurred.
Neighbours who dreaded the toil of a nineteen or twenty miles' journey along bad roads in bad weather, with Mr. Pryse at the end, and as wearisome a return, would meet and agree to trust the bravest of the party with the separate rents of two or three, having no fear of robbery by the way, whilst so many other travellers would be fallen in with, all bent on the same errand.
Some of these adventurous wights, who had never been so far as Cardiff in their lives before, brought back the news, either gathered on the spot or on the road, that a strange craft had begun to frequent the river, and to anchor off the old sea-wall. It was said that the vessel had been a privateer during the wars of the previous reign, and that although she came thither ostensibly for coal from his lordship's collieries, and Mr. Pryse was in close communication with the captain, there was something rather mysterious about her cargo.
THERE WAS SOMETHING RATHER MYSTERIOUS ABOUT HER CARGO.
—See page 164.
It was darkly hinted that the barrels which came pannier-wise on long strings of horses from the Caerphilly colliery laden with coal, and were hauled on board to be emptied, were not returned empty, but, when again slung across the backs of the patient beasts waiting on the old quay, seemed no lighter than before; and knowing ones surmised, from the care with which they were handled, that smaller kegs were slipped inside the open coal barrels. At all events, it was whispered that the teamsters lingered long at roadside inns, and that some of them struck into by-ways instead of making direct for the colliery with their empties. And it was certain that foreign spirits could be procured by the initiated where only cwrw da or cider had been hitherto obtainable.
This had been going on for three years when Evan, the bridegroom-expectant, prepared for his journey to Cardiff, whence he proposed to bring Ales her golden wedding-ring, as well as a number of small articles—not included in the 'furnishing list' of cumbrous goods—to be ferried across the river for after-conveyance to his new cottage.
To Mrs. Edwards the enforced journey to Cardiff for the payment of rent had been a trouble and a grievance. She had not cared to send hot-headed Rhys by himself into a town which she pictured as full of temptations for young men, neither had she cared to go thither alone. Twice had she taken her son with her; once she had made the toilsome journey in company with Owen Griffith; at other times she had entrusted him with the rent-money. But now that Evan was bent thither on business of his own, her natural thrift suggested the employment of him as her deputy, so as to save the toil of the journey, and innkeeper's charges for herself and her beast.
Owen Griffith, too, was glad of a trustworthy substitute; so that when Evan kissed Ales, and shook hands with the rest as he bestrode good old Breint at the farmhouse gate, he carried a goodly sum under his new frieze riding-coat, in one pocket or other, nearly all the savings of Ales, in addition to his own, and the two rents.
His departure was quite an event. Owen Griffith and Cate had walked up the hill to hand him the money and see him off, though the hour was early, and a drizzling rain had begun to fall. But rain was no new thing among the mountains, and nobody cared for that, though, doubtless, they would have preferred fair weather as more auspicious.
However, Ales flung an old shoe after him, and called out—
'For luck, Evan!'
He looked back over his shoulder to nod his thanks in reply; whereupon she threw her apron over her head and ran into the house ready to cry because he had 'spoiled his luck' by looking back.
Mrs. Edwards, too, would have been better pleased had he gone on with face set forward, but she cried, 'God keep him, and bring him safe back!' as if to counteract the untoward prognostic. Yet a cloud was gathering on her own brow, for though Owen Griffith walked beside the horse down the stony incline, Cate remained leaning against the stone gate-post talking earnestly with Rhys, the flush on her countenance deepening as he bent his head and lowered his voice to meet her ear only.
'The bold-faced huzzie!' the mother ejaculated to herself, as she turned to go indoors. 'Can she not let Ales get out of the house before she be coming a-seeking Rhys to worm herself in! Sure, and she do be in a mighty hurry to make up the old quarrel, and secure Rhys, and Owen do be as bad as his girl. But Ales is not gone yet!' she jerked out half-aloud, then checked herself, wondering what could have put those ill-timed words into her head.
She was mistaken. Cate Griffith was not quite so bold as she imagined. The quarrel had been made up some weeks, and, what was more, made up by Rhys, with a plain-spoken offer to make her his wife when Ales was married and gone away.
What he had been saying, as Evan rode away down hill, was singularly enough, 'We shall not have long to wait now, Cate, darling. Ales will soon be gone, and mother will be missing her so much she will be glad to see me bring so clever and smart a wife home to fill the vacant place. Jonet could not do it. No, really! We shall not have long to be waiting, Cate, fach.'
'The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley.'
Centuries before Burns crystallised the sentiment into verse its profound truth had been established. Who, besides Noah and his family, calculated on the Deluge?
Were the tears Ales shed, when her long-loved Evan turned his head, premonitory of another deluge?
She was a strong, healthy young woman, not a puling sentimentalist afflicted with 'nerves.' She might well cover her face, ashamed of her starting tears, when he would be back with her in four days—or five, at the furthest!
Yet she was unaccountably restless those days. The outdoor work of the farm went on pretty much as usual, though the weather was unsettled. Rhys and Davy were thrashing and winnowing in the barn, and William, endeavouring to do the work of two, fed and foddered the cattle, and took the place of Ales at the churn, whilst she washed and ironed, and put little finishing touches to her simple wedding finery, sighing, every now and again, for the Evan she missed every hour of the day. When candles were lit, and at meal-times, the blank caused by the absence of his smiling face and good-humoured observation, was felt by all, from Mrs. Edwards down to William.
And somehow, as the days went by, Jane Edwards began to share the fidgetiness of Ales, and, when the fourth passed, and the fifth wore slowly away, could not help frequent ejaculations, such as, 'It's time Evan was here!' 'What do be keeping Evan so long?' 'Sure to goodness nothing's gone wrong!' Ales growing still and white, with a strange fear that began to creep about her heart.
Evan had gone away on the Monday morning. Ere nightfall on Friday, William slipped out and hurried to the ford, as if to meet him, passing Owen Griffith at the foot of the hill, on his way to the farm to express his own surprise at the messenger's delay.
William waited and waited, but there was no sign of Evan. He got back to hear Griffith questioning Ales as to the various business her sweetheart had on hand, the conclusion being that he had not been able to make all his purchases, or get them conveyed to Castella, as readily as he had calculated, and that he must be allowed another day.
But Saturday came and went without a sign of the traveller, and Ales seemed to feel the alarm of all in her own aching heart.
Neither Evan nor Ales was at church on the Sunday to hear the banns read the second time.
But people were there to testify that Evan Evans had reached Cardiff in safety, and had been seen to enter the office of Mr. Pryse.
On that, Owen Griffith and Mrs. Edwards breathed more freely. Their fears that he had been waylaid and robbed were set at rest. It was clear his own affairs had alone detained him.
William, on his own inspiriting, had betaken himself to Caerphilly, and brought Ales back the comforting news that her Evan had carried the basket of butter and cheese to her old mother, and arranged for her removal to Castella with them.
So far all was right. But when another week went by, and no Evan came to claim her, or to bring the rent receipts, the heart of Ales sank lower and lower; every whisper in the house was suggestive of doubt, and pierced her bosom like a stab.
Owen Griffith was there nightly making fresh inquiries, often bringing Cate along with him, when Ales' heart was wrung with undertoned suspicions of her true love's fidelity—not to say his honesty.
At the three weeks' end, when the poor tortured girl had resolved on walking all the way to Cardiff, to set doubt at rest, the climax came.
It came like a thunderbolt, in the person of Mr. Pryse, to make an authoritative demand for the half-year's rent, then overdue.
It was in vain Mrs. Edwards declared it had been paid; that she had sent the money by Evan Evans.
'In that case you will have the receipt. Produce it,' said he, with a sneer.
'I cannot,' replied she, in much perplexity. 'Evan has not yet returned. But he was seen to enter your office; yes, indeed!'
'Oh yes, he did come to my office to pay your neighbour Owen Griffith's rent, and to beg a fortnight's grace for you. I have been good enough to give you three weeks, and now I must have the rent—one way or other.'
The evil smile of triumph on his wicked old face, as he said this, was lost on Mrs. Edwards in her consternation.
'Beg what? I did want no fortnight's grace. I did send the golden guineas!'
Mr. Pryse's thin lip curled. 'Then your man kept them. And it is rather strange he should pay Griffith's rent if he meant to make off with yours. There must be lying and dishonesty somewhere.'
'Yes, indeed,' broke from Ales, in a passion of indignant wrath. 'But not from my mistress or Evan Evans; they do both be God-fearing and true.'
An ominous scowl drew down the brows under the English three-cornered hat.
'Silence, you impudent jade, or I'll have you cast into jail for your vile insinuations. Wait until your honest Evan comes back before you venture to asperse his lordship's deputy.' And he raised his riding-whip as if to strike her.
Rhys had come upon the scene in the midst of this altercation, brought thither by a word from Lewis, who had seen the agent ride up the hill, with a sinister smile upon his face, and a ruffianly fellow in his rear.
At once the hot-blooded young farmer, in a smock-frock showing many an earthy stain, interposed between his mother's faithful domestic and the steward, unawed by the gold lace or ruffles visible under the open riding-coat.
'Nay, nay, we don't take whips to women in Eglwysilan, Mr. Pryse. What is all this uproar about? And what do be your business here, sir?'
His mother attempted an explanation. Ales had shrunk back overawed.
'I have come for the unpaid rent, and the costs attending this application,' Mr. Pryse thrust in, heedless of Rhys' disclaimer that 'nothing was owing'; 'and, as no cash appears to be forthcoming, I take possession of the farm in the name of his lordship, and leave this man in charge of the premises, and I warn you against removing stock or stone. Take the inventory, Morgan'—to the man who had edged himself into the kitchen, and now put on a truculent air.
William had come rushing in from the potato-field, but he stopped short, as much paralysed as his elders.
His mother was the first to break the spell.
'Paid or unpaid,' she cried, with the dignity of truth and honesty, 'that wretch shall take no inventory here, whatever. I do not be without the means to pay your demand, though I protest that it is unjust, and will have to be returned to me when Evan returns with the receipt, look you.'
'Ah, when he does. But you may take my word for it, the bird has flown away with your golden feathers, and is far enough from Wales by this time.'
And again the sinister smile lighted the evil face, much as if he had good reason for knowing that Evan was far away, and that his word might therefore be taken.
'I am glad to see you are so well provided,' he added, as the widow proceeded to count out upon the table the sum demanded, leaving still a nest-egg in the grey stocking-foot. 'Your farm must be flourishing, and I herewith give you notice, in the presence of my man, Morgan, that your rent will be advanced ten pounds per annum after this date.—I will send you a receipt.'
'YOUR RENT WILL BE ADVANCED TEN POUNDS PER ANNUM AFTER
THIS DATE,' HE SAID.—See page 174.
'No, sir,' put in Rhys promptly, 'you will give my mother one now. I see your follower there has an inkhorn and paper.'
Mr. Pryse bit his under lip, but thought well to take the hint.
'And now, sir,' said Rhys, when he had assured himself the receipt was correct, 'you do be threatening to raise the rent. You cannot do that until the lease expires.'
'Show me your lease,' demanded the agent loftily.
'We can do that when necessary, sir. His lordship will be having a copy you can consult,' replied Rhys quite as loftily.
And, seeing that he had a full-grown man to deal with, not a woman he could intimidate, Mr. Pryse turned on his heel, and mounted his horse, muttering something surly as he went, his disappointed functionary following at his heels.
Once again he bit his nails as his horse carried him down the stony track, for even the coin he bore away did not cover his baffled rage at defeat. Presently his thin lips spread into a smile of self-congratulation, and his eyelids nearly met as he communed with himself.
'It was lucky I did not call on Griffith for his rent first. I clinched the nail on Evan's dishonest flight in acknowledging that. A clever idea of mine his begging grace for Edwards' widow. Covers his call at my office. I suppose that forward jade is the woman he was going to marry. She will wait a long while for a husband if she waits for Evan Evans, look you. And as for that cock-crowing Rhys, I'll cut his comb before I've done with him. He shall not crow over me with impunity; no, indeed. I've bled the old woman pretty freely this time. She'll not get over it in a hurry. The farm will go to the dogs now that long-headed farming-man is gone. Lease, indeed! I defy any power in earth or heaven to keep them on their farm when I am ready to turn them out. Yes, indeed!'
A strong defiance that, Mr. Pryse, crafty and potential though you may be!