The next four or five days were employed in similar excursions. Not having been able on the day of their visit to Snowdon to extend their ride to Beth-gelert, their next object was to see the grave of the greyhound, and the romantic pass between Merioneth and Carnarvonshire, called Pont Aberglaslyn. At the grave of the greyhound Mordaunt repeated to his fair companions the interesting legend connected with it, and Spencer's elegant poem on the subject:—that little tale is so affecting, that, even at this remote period of time, no tender heart can hear it without lamenting the fate of the faithful and ill-requited Gelert. Ellen was not ashamed to drop a tear at the recital[1]. "Alas!" cried Mordaunt: "such is too frequently the fatal consequence of trusting to appearances! This excellent and unfortunate animal fell a sacrifice to circumstances, which, however apparently conclusive, were fallacious." He sighed, and fell for a few minutes into a gloomy silence, from which the soft voice of Ellen alone had power to rouse him.
They next visited Pont Aberglass-lyn, the wild and sublime scenery of which inspired them with awe. Its high grotesque rocks, surrounding like an amphitheatre the romantic bridge (consisting of a single arch thrown from one rough precipice to another), to which they approached by a road winding along a narrow stony valley, where the rocks on each side scarcely leave room for the road; and the dark impetuous stream, which rolls at the side of it, filled them with astonishment at the grandeur of the scene.
They visited also the little romantic village of Llanberis, with its beautiful vallies and lakes, surrounded by bold and prominent rocks, ascending almost abruptly from the edge of the water, and returned in the evening to Llanwyllan, delighted with an excursion which had afforded them so many beautiful views, and yet delightedly contrasting their own native village, with the dirty hovels, and miserable accommodations they had met with in their progress; for the exertions of Ross and his wife, who were both English, and had in the early part of their lives resided wholly in England, had introduced a degree of neatness and comfort both in the houses and apparel of their parishioners, which gave Llanwyllan the appearance of a comfortable English village, and rendered it totally distinct from those near it; where, as is often the case in Wales, extreme poverty, and its too frequent concomitants, a total carelessness of comfort abound.
They also visited Carnarvon, which the girls found much altered since they had seen it some years before, and were quite surprized at the carriages, and smartly drest people in the streets. Of course they went to the Castle, and saw the chamber where, it is said, the weak and unfortunate Edward II. was born; though that fact, from the meanness of its appearance, and inconvenient situation, appears extremeful doubtful, if not improbable. In short, they seemed in a new world, so very different were the scenes around them from those to which they were accustomed.
"Ah, Ellen!" said Joanna, "all this will soon be as nothing to you: you will see so many fine houses and great cities, you will wonder how you could ever fancy Carnarvon a large place: and I shall remain in our little quiet village, which, when you are gone, I shall think stupid, and never go beyond it!"—"Do not think so," replied Ellen: "I hope, if indeed I do leave Llanwyllan (for I consider nothing settled till Mr. Montague's letter arrives), I hope it will not be long before I shall have you with me—it will be one of my first wishes as soon as I find myself at all accustomed to the change In my situation." Joanna seemed much delighted with this promise; they slept that night at Carnarvon, and returned the next day to Llanwyllan.
In the course of these journies much conversation took place between Mordaunt and Ellen; but he with great generosity forbore as much as possible from all particular topics, as he wished to leave her as much unfettered as was now in his power till the arrival of Montague's letter; for though he had no doubt of what the contents would be, yet till he had obtained Powis's free consent, he could not exactly consider her as his affianced bride; but for conversation they were never at a loss—literary subjects furnished them with an inexhaustible fund of delight; for Mordaunt's mind and memory were so well stored with poetical and classical treasures, he scarcely needed books of reference; the beautiful views which they also obtained of the heavenly bodies, in their mountainous excursions, inspired Ellen with a desire to know something of astronomy, and Mordaunt was thoroughly capable of being her instructor. In this Ross assisted him; and two hours in the latter part of the evening were sweetly past in this delightful study. Mordaunt was also, though not a finished artist, yet very capable of taking sketches from the surrounding country; and already Ellen began to use her pencil also in slight attempts, which he both encouraged and directed—so happy indeed was the life they now led, that the slight restraint thrown upon their feelings seemed rather to give a zest to their meetings than to destroy their pleasure: gladly, most gladly, would both have relinquished all change of station, and remained for the rest of their lives in the peaceful shades of Llanwyllan.
——What was the world to them?
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all?
Who, in each other, saw whatever fair,
High fancy forms, or lavish hearts can wish:
Something than beauty dearer, should they look;
Or on the mind, or mind illumined face,
Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love,
The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven.
CHAP. X.
Now go with me, and with this holy man,
Into the chantry by; there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith.