'The best way to do that would be to find the lease,' put in Davy. 'I wonder where grandfather did be hiding it?'
'I'll find it out, if I pull the old house down, stone by stone,' cried William passionately; adding in another tone, 'Look you here, mother, crying will not be mending a broken egg. Let us show the old wretch a bold front, and who knows but God may help us to find the lease and keep the farm in spite of him. But, if not, in twelve months' time I may be making a home for you, farm or no farm.'
Rhys alone had not spoken. Jonet had crept up to her mother, and, kneeling by her side, whispered comforting words, whilst tears ran down her own cheeks.
Rhys dashed the paper down on the floor and strode out, a suppressed cry of bitter anguish bursting from him. He could not ask Cate to marry now, with ruin hanging over them! He almost reeled against the doorway of the newly-erected addition, and groaned aloud. He felt as if the blow was directed against him—him above all.
'I did be so happy,' he murmured, 'and now—Oh, Cate, dear Cate, how can I be breaking the terrible news to you!'
Davy had followed Rhys.
''Deed, I will be for telling Cate, if it will be saving you pain,' he suggested quietly. 'Perhaps she may be taking it best from me.'
'Sure, Davy, you was always a good fellow,' was all the assent of Rhys. But without turning round he stretched out his broad brown hand to meet the warm clasp of Davy, who, in another minute, was on his way steadily downhill.
Probably both brothers anticipated hot-tempered tantrums from Cate Griffiths at the sudden change of her matrimonial prospects. But for once it was the mother, and not the girl, who flew into a rage at what she regarded as the final defeat of long-laid schemes.
For a moment Cate seemed dazed. 'Poor Rhys!' was all she said; 'he will need some one to comfort him, and your mother too.'