"Well," she said, examining the brass tips of her clocs,[[3]] "what did Gwladys say about the news?"
He was startled at the suddenness of the question, but knew better from experience than to try to parry Gwen's thrusts.
"She was very glad," he said, "and so was Nani——"
"I suppose so! And was she glad to get her glee book?"
"Yes, indeed!" said Ivor, rising and standing in the doorway, a black figure against the crimson sky. "Little witch!" he said to himself, "I wonder how she knew; but what doesn't she know! They said her grandmother was a witch, and her ways have descended to her granddaughter, I think."
As a fact, Gwen, returning through the fields from the singing class, had seen him stoop to pick up the book. Ivor was not absolutely free from superstition; what dweller on that rocky coast is? With his hands thrust deep in his pockets, he sauntered down the road to learn what tidings 'n'wncwl[[4]] Jos (the general newsmonger of the village) had of the Skylark which should have arrived with the morning's tide.
Meanwhile Gwen had carried her bit of work to the penucha[[5]] and had locked it up in the shining, black "coffor," which contained the wardrobe of the family. She saw her mother pass the window, carrying her red pitcher to the well, and knowing she was alone in the house, sat down in front of the fire and gave the rein to her thoughts, and even spoke them aloud.
"She was very glad, no doubt, and they rejoiced together! Oh, yes, Ivor, I have guessed your secret long ago, and if she were not such a fool, such a simple baby, she would have seen it, too; but she doesn't, that's one comfort! Llances![[6]] But never mind, it wasn't for nothing that I lived with my grandmother. No, it wasn't for nothing that I sat with her night after night over the peat fire! I found out much from her," and rising, she stamped her foot and clenched her hand, and an evil look came into the eyes which looked so cunningly under those half-closed lids.
"I hate her!" she said; "and granny has told me that if you have reason to hate anyone you can work them harm without going near them or touching them! And haven't I reason? 'You can keep your mind,' she said, 'so constantly fixed upon that one wish that your enemy will not prosper.' Wel, indeed! perhaps that is nonsense! I will marry Siencyn Owen—poor lad, he is faithful and true, and I will make him a good wife—but 'tis Gwladys I will often be thinking about!"
She paused a moment, and approached the little window, through which the glow of the setting sun lighted up her face; it was not pleasant to look upon.