After despatching a mounted messenger to Craigaderyn with tidings of our safety, he had us at once conveyed to his farm-house at Craig Eryri, where dry clothing was given us, and a doctor summoned to attend me.
"You knew that we were missing--lost?" said I.
"Too well, sir," replied the farmer, as he produced a brandy-bottle from an ancient oak cupboard. "With all my lads I assisted in the search," he continued in Welsh, as he could scarcely speak a word of English. "A gentleman came here over night with a groom, both mounted, to spread the news of you and a lady having been lost somewhere below the Bôd Mynach."
"A gentleman mounted--Mr. Caradoc, perhaps?"
"Caradoc is one of ourselves," said the farmer, his keen eyes twinkling; "this one was a Sassenach--he Sir Madoc gave that lovely ring to, with a diamond as big as a horse-bean, for winning a race at Chester."
"O, Mr. Guilfoyle."
"Yes, sir, that is his name, I believe," replied Rhuddlan; and despite the gnawing agony of my arm I laughed outright, for the quondam German attaché would seem to have actually found time to relate something new about his brilliant to the simple old farmer, and while the fate of Lady Estelle was yet a mystery. As for mine, I shrewdly suspected he cared little about that.
Attired by the farmer's wife in the best clothing with which she could provide her, Lady Estelle, pale, wan, and exhausted, was seated near a fire to restore warmth to her chilled frame, while I retired with the medical man, who found my unlucky arm broken above the elbow; fortunately, the fracture was simple, and in no way a compound one. The bones were speedily set, splinted, and bandaged; and clad in a suit provided for me by Farmer Rhuddlan--to wit, a pair of corduroy knee-breeches, a deeply-flapped double-breasted waistcoat, which, from its pattern, seemed to have been cut from a chintz bedcover, so gorgeous were the roses and tulips it displayed, a large loose coat of coarse gray Welsh frieze, with horn buttons larger than crown pieces, each garment "a world too wide"--I presented a figure so absurd and novel that Estelle, in spite of all the misery and danger we had undergone, laughed merrily as she held out to me in welcome a hand of marvellous form and whiteness, the hand that was to be mine in the time to come; and I seated myself by her side, while the farmer and his wife bustled about, preparing for the certain arrival of Sir Madoc and others from the Court.
"How odd it seems!" said Estelle, in a low voice, and after a long pause, as she lay back in the farmer's black-leather elbow chair, where his wife had kindly placed and pillowed her; and while she spoke, her eyes were half closed and her lips were wreathed with smiles; "engaged to be married--and to you, Harry! I can scarcely' realise it. Is this the end of all our ballroom flirtations, our Park drives, and gallops in the Row?"
"Nay, not the end of any; but a continuance of them all, I hope."