Right glad were all Twm’s cronies to see him again at Tregaron; but dearer than all to him was the welcome of the curate Rhys, with whose books he was again permitted to make free, while he profited by his instructions and conversation. He had now been at home about three months, and recovered his health, strength and spirits to perfection; when his mother fancied he had become an eye-sore to her husband, who she thought looked at him with the scowling brow of a step-father, which Twm’s conduct, she might imagine, justified, as his behaviour towards Jack had been very unconciliating, ever since the bread and cheese adventure.
With this impression, Catty once more waited on Squire Graspacre, to solicit that some employment should be found for her boy, as she could not afford to keep him in idleness. The tale of his sufferings at Gwern Ddu, interested the squire in his favour; and he felt some reluctance to send him again as a parish apprentice. The worthy curate, Rhys, had also spoken a kind word in his late pupil’s favour; and Carmarthen Jack, gaping, hat in hand, looked as if he would say much to get rid of his step-son, could he hit on words to his purpose. Amused by his simplicity and awkward gestures the squire asked him,
“Well, Jack, what would you advise me to do with Catty’s boy?” This plain question met with as blunt an answer, “Make him your servant boy, sir, if you please.” “And so I will, old hedgehog!” cried the squire, slapping him on the shoulder, “Your oratory has settled the matter.”
Accordingly, our hero next appears as the squire’s man at Graspacre-Hall. This was an agreeable change in life to him, where he lived, as they say in clover; and by his good temper and turn for mirth, gained the good-will and admiration of his fellow-servants, particularly the girls, with whom he became an especial favourite. Behold him now in the seventeenth year of his age, with his looks and habits of twenty, gay, happy, and as mischievous as an ape; kissing and romping with the girls, caring for none of them, but showing attentions to all, while he jeered and mocked the cross-grained and disagreeable, and whenever he could, raised a laugh at their peculiarities. His employments at the squire’s were various, among which, waiting at table every day, neatly dressed, and carrying his master’s gun, and attending him during his shooting excursions, formed the principal.
To these, Squire Graspacre, who since the death of his wife was ever wench-hunting, aimed to add the noble office of pimp, which Anglicized, means, the honourable office of wench-procurer, to satisfy the lustful appetite of the squire. Twm, however, had been swayed too long by the counsels of Rhys the curate, to lend himself to any such service; and having by his conversations with him, and by the tenor of his readings, imbibed a taste for romantic honour, he was not without a secret hope that his great father might some day own him, and destine him to a very different sphere in life. With the growth of these notions, rose in his mind a distaste for servitude, and an ardent longing to shine in a sphere allied to literature and respectability.
CHAPTER XVI.
Twm goes the way of all flesh, and “falls in love.” So does the Squire, with Twm’s maiden. Twm defeats his master’s scheme. The adventures of farmer Cadwgan’s ass. Twm makes his exit from Squire Graspacre’s “local habitation.”
The squire and his man Twm returning one evening from grousing on the hills, in their descent towards the valleys had to pass by a small farm-house, inhabited by a tenant of the squire’s, who whispered Twm, “This is the keep, the close, that contains better game, and can afford livelier sport than any I have had to-day.” Twm by his silence testified his ignorance of his drift; but he resumed, “What! you don’t understand me? haven’t you seen this farmer’s plump partridge of a daughter, the pretty Gwenny Cadwgan, you young dog! I am determined to have that bird down, some way or other, and you must help me. She is fine game, and well worth bringing down. She will take time, I know, but if she should be shy why then
“I’ll weedle, coax, and try my arts,
For I can play a thousand parts;
When she shall weep, I’ll laugh and sing:
The devil to my aid I’ll bring.
She’ll ne’er resist me long, I ween,
For many a victory I have seen;
The wench will kick, but what of that?
I’ll bear the brunt: she’s plump and fat.”
Before Twm could reply, the squire alighted and entered the cottage, at the door of which the farmer and Gwenny Cadwgan, now grown a fine and blooming young woman, met and welcomed their landlord. Some oaten bread, butter, and cheese, and a cup of homely-brewed ale were put before him; and while he ate, the pretty Gwenny carried a portion to Twm, as he held the horses in the yard. While he received the welcome food from the hand of the happy smiling girl, he perceived the blush with which she gave it, and felt in his breast certain sensations no less new than agreeable.