In case of a quarrel between man and wife, or between two neighbours, the woman whose temper has been most seriously ruffled appears next day with her shawl over her head, and held tightly under her chin, as a sign she is in no humour for frivolous conversation; and the sign is so interpreted by her friends and neighbours. So that when Gwen carried her red pitcher to the well in one hand, and with the other clutched her grey shawl under her chin, every one knew the death of her child was weighing sorely upon her, and they passed her with a nod only, or a formal "Dachi!"[[1]]
A few days later, the nod was not returned, but Gwen looked straight before her with a glitter in her eye and a set look on her lips which her neighbours noted with a sigh.
"Poor thing! poor thing! she's very bad. Lallo fâch! you must get Mari Vone in to chat a bit and hearten her up!"
Lallo shook her head mournfully.
"I don't like it at all, Madlen fâch. She will break her heart if she does not cry or something; never a word day or night, but just that silent, angry look. Indeed, what should I do if it were not for the pig? But even with him she seems to be offended!"
When, later on, Gwen not only appeared invariably hooded by her grey shawl, but held that shawl crossed over her mouth, she was observed with more serious and sympathising looks. A woman who had quarrelled with her husband would sometimes appear with a shawl held under her chin; but few except the insane held their shawl over the mouth, exhibiting only the nose and eyes. And as Gwen hurried through the village or roamed about the cliffs, she was followed by many a sigh and shake of the head. The village children, against whom she directed spiteful glances as she passed them on the shore or on the cliffs, soon learned to fear and hate her, and when she appeared amongst them they would fly in all directions like a flock of sparrows.
"Wel, wyr!" said Sara Pentraeth, as she looked after the miserable woman. "Peggi Shân has come back to Mwntseison, I think. Ach y fi! she looks angry with the sun himself."
Her place in the sail-shed was often unoccupied, and the Mishteer remarked upon it with reproof as well as pity in his tone, when one day she appeared, late in the afternoon, and sullenly took her seat, and, after a few minutes' desultory work, rose and began her way to the open doorway.
"Stop, Gwen!" he said kindly. "What's the matter, merch i? Sorrow and hiraeth[[2]] we can all understand after such a loss; but what is the meaning of that anger and sullenness? Why, lodes,[[3]] art offended with the Almighty?"
"I am offended with you, Hugh Morgan! you have no business to speak to me as if I was a child, indeed, though you are the Mishteer."