My Fawny turned pale, but not from guilt; it was for fear that her lover’s suspicious mind might prove dangerous to the poor youth, of whose hopeless affection she was aware, and vainly regretted. Her lover noticed the change; and so did her father, who instantly said,
“Well, well, to end the dispute about who is most fitted to be my daughter’s husband, I have resolved that of all her suitors, he who shall prove best leaper in the approaching British Olympic at Plas-Gwynn, shall have my daughter’s hand. Will you enter the lists?”
“I will venture to risk my happiness upon the leap, or upon my success in any one in the whole list of games; and, I doubt not, but love will assist me to bear off the prize. But, should I fail—” said he, in a tone of tenderness, as he took the maiden’s hand, “would My Fawny drop a tear upon my grave?”
The lovely girl lifted her dark eyes to those of her lover’s, and the impetuous knight felt at once assured of her undivided affection.
The intervening days passed rapidly, while costly preparations were made for the games that were to take place at Plas Gwynn.
During this time, Evan was never seen, although Einion often fancied, at the still hour of night, he heard a harp, and the soft voice of the minstrel, near the window of his mistress.
It is sufficient to say that Howell’s belief in his superiority over the rest of the competitors was justly founded; and he won the lady by covering the immense distance of fifty feet at a hop, step, and jump, over the brook called Abernodwydd; in commemoration of which feat three stones, at the precise intervals, were immediately erected on the spot, where they still remain to this day, in a dingle called, “Naid Abernodwydd, or The Leap of Abernodwydd.”—See Jones’s Bardic Museum, Vol. II.
The games being finished, the lovers returned to Dinas Bran, and the happy day at length arrived.
Bards of the highest order were seated in the banqueting hall, and minstrels tuned their harps to joy and gratulation; but Evan was not there. The baron sat at the head of the board, his daughter and son-in-law on either hand. And many an anxious wish he felt, for his favourite bard, and many an eager glance did he cast around the illuminated hall, hoping to discover him amongst the crowd; but in vain; and he felt uneasy at his absence. Every guest expressed wonder that he was not there to celebrate so happy an event, and he became the topic of conversation with all assembled.
At length, the time for departure arrived, and the last bard had recited his complimentary verses, when the door was flung open at the lower end of the room, and Evan, his harp hung behind him, with a tottering step advanced towards the upper end of the hall, where the new married couple sat gazing in speechless wonder at his altered form. There was an unearthly expression in his face; the bloom which used to mantle on his cheeks, was no longer there; his eyes were sunk deeply in their sockets, and the vermilion of his lip was turned to ashy paleness. A seat was given him; and, without speaking, he placed his harp before him, and touching its strings, a sound of heavenly music swelled up to the lofty roof. None ventured to breathe audibly, while he sang