"Well, be thankful," said an old crone who had the reputation of being the wisest woman in the village, "be thankful it is the pig and not yourself who is lying there."
"Yes—you couldn't be salted and dried," said 'n'wncwl Jos.
"Well, that's true enough," answered Lallo, addressing Hugh Morgan. "Mishteer bâch, I am in terror of my life—what will you advise me to do? If she could kill that poor pig who never did her any harm, she may do the same to me. I have borne and borne, but I can bear no more. What shall I do, Mishteer bâch?"
"Well," said Hugh, "you must either have a strong man to live with you, who can keep a constant watch upon her, or you must send her to the asylum—that is my advice. Send her to the asylum."
"My Gwen to the 'sayloom!" cried Lallo, in angry tones. "No, no, we have not fallen so low as that! My aunt was not wise the last years of her life, but she died peacefully in her own bed, and my cousin was a mad 'iolin,'[[1]] but his mother kept him respectably shut up in the penucha for many years, and he died singing 'O, frynian Caersalem!' like a saint. No, no, my Gwen shall not go to the 'sayloom!"
"What did you ask my advice for, woman, if you will not take it?"
"Well, Mishteer, I did not expect that advice; but I thought you would be able to tell me what I am to do." And she burst out into fresh sobs, mingled with indignant exclamations. "Ach y fi, no! 'Sayloom, indeed! Howyr bâch, no!"
"Well," said Hugh, turning to leave the crowd, "I have no more time to waste. Get Tim 'Twm' to cut up your pig properly and salt it, and get Gwen to help you—it will keep her from mischief—and by that time you will have calmed down, and will be ready for my advice, I expect. That woman is a danger to us all," he said to 'n'wncwl Jos, who stumped down the hill beside him, "and I must get her put in an asylum before another month is out."
"Must you, indeed!" said Gwen, suddenly facing them. She had glided from behind the pig-stye, where she had listened to the whole conversation, and followed close behind them down the road, and now, suddenly passing them, turned round facing them, and walking backwards, she fixed her glittering eyes upon Hugh. "Wilt take me to the 'sayloom, Hugh Morgan?—perhaps indeed! But we shall see—we shall see!" And laughing wildly, she turned suddenly up a path which led to the open cliffs.
"Tan y marw! 'tis Peggi Shân herself!" said 'n'wncwl Jos, who had not his usual cheerful jollity. In truth, the old man, in the excitement caused by the events of the preceding day, and in the absence of Mari's thoughtful care, had entirely forgotten to change his dripping garments until late in the evening. He was accustomed to think nothing of such a wetting, and had a score of times braved its dangers; but to-day he shivered, and indignantly confessed to himself that he believed he had been such a fool as to catch a cold like a babby!