“Now, Gwladys, my maid, what is it? What is wrong? Ah! dear, dear! she’s tired—the poor little maid.”
I wanted Gwen to soothe me. I meant her to stroke my cheek with her large, but soft hand. I meant her to pour, with her dear Welsh accent, some foolish nothings into my ear. Gwen’s soothing, joined to my own tears, were, as I said, my safety-valve. When enough of the steam of strong excitement was evaporated by these means, I started up, dried my eyes, and spoke.
“Gwen, we’re going away. Mother and I are not going to live at Tynycymmer any more. We’re going away to the black ugly coal country—to Ffynon.”
“Yes, Gwladys,” said Gwen; “my mistress told me to-day. She said you was to move quick, so as to have things ready for Owen. And, goodness me! Gwladys, what I says is, that little David and me should go too. What if little David was took with the croup, and me to lose my senses; and what could the Squire do? What I say is, that David and me should go—least for a year—till his h’eye teeth are down—and they do say as there’s holy wells out there, what works miracles on the sight, if you dips afore sunrise.”
It was plain that Gwen had her own troubles in the matter. She spoke vehemently.
“And who’s to brush h’out your yellow hair, my maid? and who’s to make things comfort for my mistress? Dear, dear Gwladys, ’tis worse nor folly me not going with you.”
“Well, where’s the use of making a fuss about nothing?” I said, finding that I had to listen to a complaint instead of making one. “Who says you are not to come!”
“My mistress, dear. She says the Squire wishes little David to stay at Tynycymmer. Dear heart! what store he do set by the little lad. Seems to me he loves the blessed lamb h’all the better for being blind.”
“Well, Gwen, that is all right. Of course David wishes to keep the baby—and I think,” I added virtuously, “that as he does wish it, it would be very selfish of us to take him away.”
“Dear, dear Gwladys,” said the penitent Gwen, “don’t think as I have no thought for the Squire. I don’t see why the house is to be broke up for—but there! Owen and David aren’t the same, Gwladys, and no one will make me think ’em the same. But if you and my mistress must go, I was only supposing what ’ud be best for the baby in case he was took with sickness. ’Tisn’t I as ’ud be the one to neglect the Squire, Gwladys. Course I’ll stay; though dear, dear, dear! I’ll be lonesome, but what of that?”