The reference to her brother brought tears to Gwenfan’s eyes. Ever since he had left home, she had prayed every night and morning that he might be kept from evil, kept unspotted from the world, kept safely in the pavilion of the unseen and eternal.
Mr. Roberts, seeing the young lady in tears, asked if he could in any way alleviate her sorrow; but she at once replied,—
“I weep not, sir, because my heart is sad. I am almost overcome with joy by reason of your reference to dear Cadwgan. Oh, I do rejoice with unspeakable satisfaction, that he has not forgotten the holy lessons our dear parents taught us. Though they are gone, I feel their spirits often visit us, and I think they watch over us with the same care and solicitude as when they were present in the flesh.”
“Happy, my dear Miss Wynn, must be the brother whose beloved sister, living here amongst the Welsh mountains, prays daily for his welfare. I can bear testimony to his practical piety, his eminent godliness, his deep devotional spirit. He has taught me to love and adore the Name which is above every name. There is, too, a fragrance about Cadwgan’s acts and life. Truly has he been the guide of my inexperience, my counsellor, my friend. During the past three years, scarcely a day has passed without our having conversation on the highest things. Since we parted the other day, I have missed him much. Oh, I wish he had come! But there is your brother. Look! He is waiting our return.”
In a moment afterward Cadwgan and his sister were locked in each other’s arms.
During the following week Miss Gwenfan Wynn and Mr. Roberts were almost constantly together; and it must be owned that there grew up between those two young and innocent hearts a feeling more warm, more ardent, and more fervent than usually exists between friends and acquaintances; a feeling which if permitted to ripen and develop, would result in the union of heart with heart, soul with soul,—a feeling the intensity of which would survive even the tomb.
After the happy days thus spent together, Miss Wynn one evening remarked to her niece, “Has not the right man come, my child? I suppose I shall hear no more of your living the life of an old maid?”
“Oh, aunt, you are too cruel. I like Mr. Roberts much, but only as Cadwgan’s friend.”
“Well, well; we shall see what we shall see. You will be Mrs. Roberts one of these days. There, don’t blush my child. There is no harm in your loving so noble a youth.”