“No,” said I. “Besides the man whose birth-place I came to see, died poor, leaving nothing behind him but immortality.”
“Who was he?” said the miller.
“Did you ever hear a sound of Gronwy Owen?” said I.
“Frequently,” said the miller; “I have frequently heard a sound of him. He was born close by in a house yonder,” pointing to the south.
“Oh yes, gentleman,” said a nice-looking woman, who holding a little child by the hand was come to the house-door, and was eagerly listening, “we have frequently heard speak of Gronwy Owen; there is much talk of him in these parts.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said I, “for I have feared that his name would not be known here.”
“Pray, gentleman, walk in!” said the miller; “we are going to have our afternoon’s meal, and shall be rejoiced if you will join us.”
“Yes, do, gentleman,” said the miller’s wife, for such the good woman was; “and many a welcome shall you have.”
I hesitated, and was about to excuse myself.
“Don’t refuse, gentleman!” said both, “surely you are not too proud to sit down with us?”