"Yes," she said; "Gwen has just been telling me; but he has a good nurse, and we must not look on the dark side."
"No, true, merch i; but I'd give much to have him back here again—foolish boy! I believe he was jealous of my love for thee! Siencyn Owen says he was quite delirious; called constantly for the girl who nurses him, 'Gwladys, Gwladys!' sometimes in such pitiful tones that Siencyn felt like crying; and talking, talking without stopping about the sea and the moon and the stars! 'Gwladys,' he said, 'our star is sinking—sinking—sinking!' Oh, 'tis pity, indeed, we can't have him here to nurse him—thy gentle ways and thy tender care would bring him round, Gwladys; but what is the matter, lass?"
"Oh, a pain!" said the girl, laying her hand on her bosom. "A sharp pain, a real pain! I have had it before to-day; I think it must be the brecci, which I have tasted too often." And a pitiful little smile crossed her face.
Hugh was all anxiety and fright, and not without cause, for Gwladys had quietly slipped to the ground in a dead faint.
In a moment, Madlen the contumacious had forgotten her pique, and was rushing about in search of the inevitable "drop of brandy," while Hugh lifted his wife from the ground, and placed her on the settle, where she presently regained consciousness. His tender words of love were the first that reached her ears.
"Gwladys, fâch! my little girl! dear heart! open thine eyes. Art better, darling?"
"Yes, yes," said the girl, reaching both hands towards him, and bursting into tears. "Hugh, Hugh, you have married a foolish, weak girl; but have patience with me, and I will get wiser and better."
"Oh, ho! as for that," said Hugh, tenderly drawing her towards him, "I want no change in thee!"
After the never-failing restorative of a cup of tea, Gwladys revived, and Hugh was happy again; and when 'n'wncwl Jos arrived in the afternoon, Hugh left him with Gwladys to the mysteries of casking the beer, his wooden leg stumping up and down incessantly from the beer-cellar to the living-room. He placed some mysterious object on the table, wrapped up in paper, refusing to unfold it until the last moment.
"Now," he said, when the casks had been placed in position, and everything prepared for pouring in the brecci, "now, then, Mishtress, let's see if your brewing won't be the clearest in Mwntseison."