And up the side of the bank they went on the soft turf, until, on reaching the top, they saw Gwen standing on the very edge of the cliff, with arms outspread, and gesticulating wildly, singing, and sometimes talking.
"Oh, winds and waves and flames,
I call you by your names,
North, South, East, West,
Hither come, do my behest,
And hasten now to help me!"
They were close to her, but hidden by one of the many boulders scattered about the greensward.
"How she repeats that verse," said Ivor. "I am afraid of her, Robert—not for myself, but for some of them at Mwntseison. She means to do some mischief with her waves and her winds and her flames. Listen! she is talking."
"Oh, yes, night-wind, I hear you, I know what you are saying—'Be ready, Gwen—be ready, Gwen! and we will help you.' Hush!" and, with her finger raised, she bent over the cliff until the strong men shuddered with fear. "Hush! 'tis the sea; I hear you whispering 'Be ready, Gwen—be ready, Gwen!' but you are worthless! bant a chi[[1]]—bant a chi! I have a better friend than you, though he is not here to-night," and turning round she caught sight of a shower of sparks which rose from the mill chimney. "Yes, he is—yes, he is!" she screamed, clapping her hands and dancing with delight; "there are his signs!" and she burst into the wild refrain of her weird song once more:—
"Come flames of yellow, red, and blue,
Help! for you are my servants true."
"Good-night," she said, waving her hands towards the old mill, "I understand your message; I will be there, and you will be there." And, turning, she fled back towards Mwntseison, as Shoni-go had said, "like a partridge," with arms spread out, her grey shawl held like wings, and her toes scarce touching the ground.
Ivor and Robert came slowly out of the shadow of the rock.
"Jâr-i!" said the latter, "I thought the witches were dead; but, God save us, we have heard one sing to-night."
"Poor Gwen," said Ivor, remembering many a kindness which she had shown him before she had married Siencyn Owen, "she's no witch, only a poor misguided woman, whose life has turned sour, like milk in a thunderstorm. Remember she was brought up by that uncanny old sinner Peggi Shân, and now it pleases her to think she has the same 'hysbys' nature."