“Then you prefer it to Bettws-y-Coed?”
“I do. This place has a charm for me which that sylvan vale has not.”
“So it has for me, my friend. The meandering river flowing down this valley, the high hills on either side of the glen, the stupendous and overhanging rocks, with a thousand different colours, foliage, trees, shrubs, and mosses, with grand old Snowdon in the distance: these, and early recollections and associations, have rendered this place dearer to me than all other scenes in my dear native land. I am glad that our views of this delectable valley are identical, though I cannot convey to you the depth of my emotion in contemplating the scene.”
“Cadwgan,” replied Mr. Roberts, “the spot on which I now stand is as dear to me as my life. You have been my adviser, my counsellor, my friend—ay, more than a brother to me. Oh, advise me how to act! I confessed here to your sister my love, and offered her my hand and heart. I asked her to become mine; but oh, Cadwgan, she rejected my offer!”
“Did she, that is, my sister, give any reason for declining your offer?”
“Indeed she did not.”
“Did she tell you she was engaged already?”
“Nay; she told me she was free.”
“Did you ask her for an immediate answer?”
“Yes.”