"Wel, he wass looking pale and thin," replied Captain Jones, "and the daughter of the house brought a chair for him to sit on outside the door. Gwladys is her name, and she's a purty girl, too!
"'There,' he says, 'turn my chair where the wind will blow straight from the sea.'
"'Tis blowing straight across the bay today,' sez I. ''Tis coming later from Mwntseison than me, though I only left yesterday morning.'
"Wel, he didn't say nothin' to that, but he took a long breath, and he sighed very heavy."
"'Oh, I'll soon be well now,' he sez, 'and begin my work again.' And when I was parting, he sez: 'Remember me to the Mishteer,' sez he, 'and tell him that distance don't make no difference at all in my friendship for him.'"
"And what message to the Mishtress?"
"'Oh, yes, of course,' he sez, 'my kind remembrances to her, too!' and he didn't say no more."
"Well, that's enough," said Hugh, returning to his Welsh, "to know that he is getting well, and that his heart is with us yet. We'll have him back again yet, boys. We'll send him a 'round robin,' and every one in Mwntseison shall sign it. Thee and I shall be the first to sign it. Dost hear, Gwladys? But thee must sprack up, girl, or Ivor will ask me what I've been doing to thee to make thee so pale and thin!" And he, too, sighed heavily, as Ivor had.
The winter months sped on, and the spring once more awakened land and sea. On one of her brightest and freshest mornings the doors of the sail-shed stood wide open, as they had done a year ago, and Hugh Morgan as usual worked busily amongst his men, arranging, watching, directing with indefatigable spirit, though, truth to tell, things had been going rather against him lately. He missed Ivor's watchful interest in his business, and his absence, like an intangible cloud, somewhat tarnished the brightness of his life.
At the first glance, Hugh's manly form and handsome face seems unchanged, but a closer scrutiny reveals a haunting sadness behind his genial smile.