There were long pauses in their talk when the sea seemed to add its sweet whispers of entreaty to his pleading, until at last as the night wore on there came a little pleading into Gwladys' voice also—
"Oh! Ivor, do not tempt me; I have done wrong to come here, I ought to have said 'nos da' and passed straight home—I am like the seaweed, tossed hither and thither by the fierce waves, but still fastened to the rock, and so am I bound to the Mishteer. Only that one thing is certain in all this sea of trouble. O gwae fi! beth na'i? Let me go, lad! Thou wouldst always help me when I was a child; everywhere I was safe and strong, if thou wert there. And now, Ivor, help me, for the storm is upon me!"
"I cannot, Gwladys—I cannot, indeed! I seek for the strength within me, and I do not find it; but so far I can do, whatever—I will stand out of thy way and let thee pass on to—the Mishteer."
Gwladys, scarce knowing whether this made her more or less miserable, but taking his words somewhat in a literal meaning, began to move a little towards the boat.
"Stop, stop, fanwylyd!" said Ivor, "not to-night will I stand aside—not to-night will I part with thee! I have said, and I swear it again, to-night thou art mine! and my fine promises do not begin till to-morrow."
He drew her again closer to him—and again they fell into a long silence.
"Gwladys," said Ivor at last, "wilt tell me what have thy thoughts been?"
"The same as thine, I do believe, Ivor," said the girl, in a broken voice. "Our happiness would be to be together, but our duty bids us part. I cannot break my promise to the Mishteer. Our banns are called! I am half married to him! I ought not to be here; I am a wicked girl. Why, why has he set his love upon me? I have promised to marry him, and I will keep my word though my heart should break."
Ivor did not speak, he was struggling with a trial which had come upon him unexpectedly and unprepared for. Every fibre of his being was shaken by the shattering of his fondest dreams—the love which he had cherished for years, and for which he had built such fair palaces of hope! Was it now to be stifled and put out of sight for ever? to be cast under the feet of another man, who would walk over it with joy and happiness on his face, unconscious of the sacrifice which his friend was making for him!
For some time they sat thus suffering together, both brooding on the untoward events which had separated them, and on the bitter trial which lay before them.