“What fairy, my good man?” said I, “and who was Hugh Evans?”
“Ah! you are a stranger here, sir. Why, it’s a tale my grandfather used to tell me, of a lad, who worked with him in the fields yonder.”
HUGH EVANS, AND THE FAIRY.
Hugh was a handsome lad, and all the girls were mad for love of him; but he was a prudent youth, and would not notice any of them, for he thought as he could hardly earn enough to support himself, he had no chance of supporting others. Well, one day as he was returning from work, he leant over the bridge, where you are now standing, sir, and what should he see, but a beautiful young creature, bathing in the deep water there. Well, he knew it was a fairy, for he never had seen any thing half so beautiful before; and he couldn’t for the life of him take his eyes from her, though she was as naked (saving your presence) as when she was born. She had long black hair, streaming down her shoulders, as glossy as a crow’s wing, and the smallest feet, and hands, he ever beheld! and the beautiful fairy said to him, “Hugh, handsome Hugh, why did you come hither? but, since you are here, turn your head aside, till I get out of the stream, and then I’ll come and talk to you.” And Hugh did as he was bid, for he was too much in love to deny her any thing; and, before he could recover his surprise, there was the fairy, close by his side, in the dress of a neat country lass. And her snowy feet, and her raven locks, red lips, and sparkling eyes, made Hugh’s heart knock at his ribs, like a smith’s hammer on the anvil. So what does he do, but drop down upon his knees, and swore he was dying for love of the angel. “I’m no angel at all,” says she, “but a foolish body of a fairy, that has fallen in love with handsome Hugh, and, if you’ll consent to my wishes in one respect, I’ll be a fond wife to you all the days of your life.” Hugh was delighted to hear her talk, and he promised to do every thing she wished. “All I desire,” said she, “is that you will permit me to leave you every night at twelve o’clock for one hour, and never attempt to follow me, or ask where I have been. But, if you follow me, you will never see me again, and you will only have to thank your own folly and rashness for it.” Hugh promised faithfully, and the fairy provided him with money enough to buy a neat little cottage on the hill yonder, and to stock it with a cow, pigs, and poultry. He likewise bought ten acres of land, and every body wondered how Hugh Evans became so rich on a sudden, but they supposed it was his wife’s fortune, though they never could find out who she was. For many years they lived together, and she bore him two girls, both resembling the mother, and their comeliness was the talk of the country. Marriage had no power to destroy the beauty of the fairy’s form or face, for eternal youth and loveliness were part of her portion.
But Hugh got jealous of a neighbour, whom he used to invite to his house in the winter evenings, and he fancied that his wife paid him more attention than was necessary. Until that time, he never cared about her absence at midnight but the “green eyed monster;” whispered to him that she had other than honest motives, for absenting herself from home at that late hour. And one night, when his neighbour, Davie Jones, happened to be more animated than usual with the good woman his hostess, who was always desirous of making Hugh’s friends welcome, he gave her a kiss at parting that went to the heart of poor Hugh; and he determined to look after her that night when she left his bed, to discover if his suspicions were well founded. Accordingly, pretending to sleep, he watched his wife when she rose up. The first thing she did was to go to her children, whom she kissed, and by the light of the moon, which shone brightly through the casement, he saw her suddenly (without the aid of toilet labour) arrayed in a gossamer robe of rose coloured pink, through which her beautiful skin was dimly perceptible, and her exquisite form fully displayed to his astonished eyes; the right arm and breast were bare, while the drapery was secured upon the left shoulder, and at the waist with clasps of costly gems.
“Her black luxuriant ringlets, contrasted with her snowy neck, her dark eyes flashing with delight, and her red pouting lips,” said poor Hugh, “made me motionless with admiration, which was increased by seeing her leap, through the open casement! Terrified lest she should be dashed to pieces by the fall—filled with fury at her being thus decked out to meet her paramour, with desperate eagerness I darted out of the window in pursuit. The height was considerable. I caught a glimpse in my descent, of her fairy form as she reached the summit of the hill, and then all sense forsook me. When restored to consciousness, I found myself stretched upon my bed; both my legs broken by the fall, and my head sorely bruised. Upon asking for Lleucu, my wife, I was told she had never been seen since I beheld her. My friend Davie was attending me affectionately, bathing my temples with cold lotions; and my heart smote me for my suspicions. Night came, and, as the hour approached when Lleucu departed, I became restless and feverish, when a voice, which I knew to be Lleucu’s, entered my chamber; it sang as follows:
“Farewell Hugh, handsome Hugh,
Don’t forget thy poor Lleucu!
O’er thy limbs I spread a charm,
And to-morrow, free from harm,
To thine honest labour hie,
To support our progeny.
Oh, protect their tender years,
Bless my hopes and soothe my fears!
Farewell, Hugh, handsome Hugh,
Don’t forget thy poor Lleucu!”
“I would have given my life to have seen her again,” continued Hugh; “but I lost her for ever. The next morning, faithful to her promise, I was indeed perfectly free from pain; my limbs were as strong as at the moment when I sprang from the window; but my heart was broken.”
“May be, sir, you’d like to buy a pair of stockings or mittens,” said the old man, without pausing to notice the effect his tale had upon me, and pulling the articles out of his coat pocket as he spoke. I could not resist the appeal, and, giving him the price he demanded, I pursued my journey towards Dolgelly. Nearly the whole of this lovely valley is the property of Sir Robert Vaughan.
I was meditating upon the romantic tale of the old man, when suddenly a turn in the road and an opening in the dell revealed to my delighted eyes the celebrated mountain called Cader Idris.