It was a picture of rural beauty as it stood there, like a grey sentinel at the opening of the valley. Landwards, the cwm gradually closed in, where the thick woods grew down to the water's edge; between them the old church, the home of the white owls, which made the glen their hunting ground, was dimly visible through the haze, the mill itself showing clear and sharp, with its silvered points and dark shadows, its ivy-covered gables well defined in the moonlight. There was a firelight glow in the broad kitchen window, and the smoke curled up from the grey stone chimney.
"Only the mill!" said Ivor again.
"Yes, there's pretty it is in the moonlight! and there's nice things the river is saying down there!"
"Yes, 'tis a pretty home; but lonely, lass—lonely for me; wilt not come and brighten it, Gwladys? Think how long I have waited; think how much I have suffered—and thee, too! Come, Gwladys, come to the mill with me! Come, f'anwylyd, I have not hurried thee; but every week has seemed a month lately and every month a year! Is there any reason in earth or heaven why we should not be married now? Why art so silent, Gwladys?"
"Only, Ivor, I am wondering can it be that there is so much happiness in store for me and thee?"
"Yes," said Ivor, in a loud, determined tone, "there is love and happiness in store for us, if thou wilt only give thyself to me. Come and be the mistress of the old mill, f'anwylyd; come and be the queen and idol of my heart, as thou hast always been! When will we be married? To-morrow?"
"Caton pawb, Ivor, thou art taking my breath away."
"Next week, then?"
"Well, indeed, it will only be on one condition," and she held up her finger playfully.
"Oh, listen to her," said Ivor delightedly, "she's beginning to lay down the law already; and what conditions does my queen enforce?" and taking off his hat he made her a sweeping bow.