In the village the excitement was intense, for where the sail-shed had once stood—the backbone of Mwntseison, the dispenser of the means of livelihood to so many families—there was now nothing but a smouldering heap of charred wood, surrounded by a ring of horror-stricken villagers. 'N'wncwl Jos had suggested a dreadful idea last night when Hugh Morgan was carried home and laid on his bed.
"Wasn't I right?" he said, as he stumped back to the burning building; "didn't I say 'clap her in'? and if they had done so, we should not have lost the best man that ever trod the sands of Mwntseison!"
"What! dost mean Gwen? anwl! anwl! mad as she was she wouldn't have injured the Mishteer!"
"Wel, indeed," said Dye Pentraeth, "I was coming home late last night from Traeth Berwen, and my heart nearly jumped out of my body when I passed the sail-shed, for who should I see standing close to the wall but Gwen; she was the same colour as the grey boards. Ach y fi! I was frightened."
"Oh, yes," said 'n'wncwl Jos, "'tis plain enough who did it—and where is she now? Nobody knows! and there is poor Lallo, druan fâch! seeking her everywhere!" And beginning to fâch! seeking her everywhere!" And beginning to relish the part of "seer," he added, "And nobody will see Gwen again; she has run away, probably to Caer Madoc. Wel, 'twill save us the trouble of taking her there, for I'm sure I don't know how we're going to manage that now, nor anything else whatever, without the Mishteer. Oh, bobol anwl! I have lost a friend!"
"But Dr. Hughes is very clever, perhaps he will bring him through," said one of the crowd; "if not, what will become of us all, and the Mishtress, druan fâch!"
Little groups of people, with anxious and mournful faces, were gathered together here and there along the rocky road. To lose the Mishteer from their midst! the thought was unbearable! He had for so long been their guide and support—his strong will and good moral influence had been for years the moving spring of their lives, unconsciously to themselves and to him—and his death, therefore, would be a dire calamity.
"Look here, frindiau," said Josh Howels, "if we ever expect any good to come of our prayer meetings this is the time to hold one." And a murmur of approval followed his words.
"When shall it be, then?" said 'n'wncwl Jos.
"Wel! there's no time like the present," said Josh Howels; and with one accord they turned en masse to the door of the Methodist chapel, and filled the square building to overflowing.