But Gwladys only drew her hand away, and said:
"'Tis too late, Ivor. I have promised the Mishteer, and our banns have been called once!"
At the mention of the word "banns," Ivor made a gesture of despair. Here, indeed, was the downfall to all his reviving hopes—a bar across his path only one degree less insuperable than death itself—for though to a Welshman scarcely any obstacle seems insurmountable, scarcely any stratagem dishonourable in the course of his impetuous love-making, yet marriage and all connected with it holds the high place in his reverence, which it seems to have lost in many nations.
It is true that morality amongst the unmarried peasantry lays itself open to reproach; but a lapse from the paths of the strictest virtue after marriage is always looked upon as an unpardonable disgrace.
The knowledge, therefore, that Hugh Morgan's banns were published crushed every hope that had begun to spring up anew within Ivor's breast.
"Mawredd anwl![[5]] 'tis impossible!" he cried; "so soon! Gwladys, say it is not true, or thou wilt kill me—an' 'tis the best thing thou canst do for me, for now I see, indeed, that thou art gone from me for ever! Hugh Morgan has not loitered, whatever! Only one short week I was away, and in that time another man has won thee, and thy banns are out!"
She made no answer, but sat with her face buried in her hands.
"Thou art crying, lass; is it pity for me?"
"Yes," she sobbed, "and—and for me!"
"Didst love me, then, all the time, f'anwylyd? Tell me; I have a right to know."