"Oh! I don't expect they use them," said Nell. "What did she call them? Some English name."
"'A dinner service,' if you please," said Sara, in tones of disgust. "Ach y fi! what is the world coming to when Nani's daughter sits on a red velvet cushion, and has a 'dinner service' on her dresser? dost know what, Nell, fâch? I am sick of the world; it is so foolish. And didst see her ring? as thick as two, Nell, fâch! Wel, wel! the poor Mishteer has made a fool of himself at last! 'Dwla dwl yw dwl hên!'[[9]] But, Nell," with another nudge and a shrewd wink, "we've got to curtsey to her, my woman. But we've got to hide our feelings in this world, Nell, fâch. There's two pigs in the sty; and that pretty poppet won't do all the salting herself, I'll be bound. And there's the herrings to be salted in the autumn. I won't mind doing the work for her, but there's many a bit of pork can be spared from the salting, and I daresay she'll throw a dozen or two of herrings into my pay!"
"Oh, I can salt as well as thee," said Nell, "and I can set the garden for them——"
"Oh, yes, I daresay thee'lt pick something out of them!" said Sara. "So we must curtsey and say, 'mem' to Mishtress. Ach y fi! I am tired of this old world. There's Shemi coming home, I must go and put the cawl on; good-night."
As they turned into their cottages, Hugh came whistling down the road. He had settled his business in the farm on the moor, and was returning with hurrying steps to the home which held his young bride; for, no doubt, in a great measure the old proverb was right, and Hugh, the man of forty, was more absolutely enslaved by the new-born passion which had come into his life than a younger man would have been. The thought of Gwladys filled his heart to the exclusion for the time of every other consideration. She was the sweetest and fairest woman in the world—the peerless pearl of all the maidens!—and his whole life should be devoted to her happiness. He would guard her path from every danger; he would brush every thorn away, and spread it with flowers for her to walk upon; and as he saw the light which twinkled from his window, and pictured Gwladys' slim figure moving about the room, his heart leapt up with joy, and life seemed to stretch before him in one long boundless haze of happiness. He passed 'n'wncwl Jos standing at his cottage door with a nod only.
"Ha, ha!" said the old man, "'tis no use asking you to come in now—too much attraction at home, eh?"
"Well," said Hugh, stopping a moment, "'tis too late to-night, and I don't like to leave the little one alone, you see; but to-morrow night, she is going to see Nani, and I'll come up and sit with thee and Mari. How is she?"
"Quite well," said 'n'wncwl Jos. "She has been hay-making all day, and has not come home yet."
On the following Sunday the worshippers at Brynseion Chapel paid less attention than usual to their minister's fiery sermon. Gwladys Morgan's jacket had been the subject of their thoughts and conversation during the foregoing week, and now here it was in all its glory of lace and bead trimming, plainly exposed to every eye—nay, Sara Pentraeth and Nell Jones had been so fortunate as to secure seats in the very next pew behind the Mishteer and Mishtress, so that they were able correctly to appraise its value. Nell's eyes as usual roamed over every bead and frill, and a series of unconscious nudges in Sara's side expressed the feelings which the presence of the minister and congregation obliged her to conceal. Hugh had commissioned a friend, a sea-captain, to buy the jacket for him at a large seaport town up the bay. The price was to be no object, but fashion and good taste alone were to be considered, and consequently its arrival had created quite a little ferment in the village. Gwladys, when it was presented to her the day after her marriage, went into the expected raptures; but, truth to tell, its grandeur threw a shadow over her Sundays, and though Nani looked across the chapel at her with beaming admiration, she was glad to exchange it for her quiet Welsh flannel dress when the three services of the day were over, and Hugh and she could doff their broadcloth and silk, and lay them to rest in the coffer until the following Sunday. It was midsummer, and as they emerged from the crowded chapel on the day when the glories of the jacket first dazzled the eyes of Mwntseison, the sweet, pure air greeted them like a blessing. The road, shaded on both sides with old gnarled elder trees, was white with the fallen blossoms, the scent of which mingled with that of the wild honeysuckle climbing over the hedges.
They stopped a moment to lean over a bridge which crossed the little stream just where it took a headlong leap over the rocks down to the lower level, upon which it made its more sober way through the village into the sea. The spray from the waterfall wetted their faces as they looked through the honeysuckle and ivy into the depths below. The swallows darted backwards and forwards where the water filled the air with its rushing sound.