“I see you are still my friend,” said Twm, who had been lost in a reverie during part of Watt’s remarks, “and I give you joy of your fair prospects, which I would not destroy on any account; you shall serve me, and, at the same time keep your oath. You know my talent at mimicry, and see how well this dress becomes me; aye, I become the dress equally as you shall see. Had I not already disclosed myself, I could have discoursed to you a whole hour at mid-day, fearless of a discovery; but let us see how this cloak becomes you, Watt.” With that he took off the cloak and put it on Watt, and, after a little jesting on the subject, Twm suddenly exclaimed, “Only sit down here with the cloak on your shoulders for ten minutes, while I step out, and, with the assistance of my bundle, I will astonish you with my transformation.”
All this was uttered with the gay rapidity of an anticipated freak, and Watt taken by surprise, immediately acquiesced, without knowing what he was about. Twm ran immediately to the Rectory House, and making a great clatter, roused Parson Evans, who opened the window and asked what was the matter; when, assuming Watt’s voice, he said hastily, “Mister Evans! Mister Evans! Twm Shon Catty is now in my cottage, dressed in a cloak, and sitting at the fire. You had best be quick and secure him. He wanted me not to betray him, but I could not break my oath, you know; so pray you, Parson, make haste if you would have your desire.”
Delighted with this intelligence, Evans awakened the whole house, especially two strapping fellows, whom he called his bull-dogs, sometimes employing them as husbandry servants, at others, on account of their large size, and muscular power, as constables. Both these fellows were first sent to saddle his horse, in case he should have to take Twm to Cardigan gaol,—and then to attend him to Watt’s cottage, where the trio soon went.
Peeping through the casement, Evans discovered a tall figure wrapped in a cloak, as described. “There he is sure enough,” quoth he in a whisper; “now get your cords ready for binding his hands, and stay here till I call you in; be sure that you watch the door well.” With that he lifted the latch and went in. Watt, who, in the interim of our hero’s absence, had made up a good fire, now stood up, and, as he saw the clerical magistrate before him, exclaimed, “Well done, Twm, my boy! I now give you credit; well, well, well, this is indeed strange; a wonderful disguise; you look the old rascal to the life; if you had not told me before-hand of your intended transformation, I could have sworn you were old Evans himself; you look now just as he did when he promised to make me parish clerk.”
Evans remained petrified with astonishment till the last words were uttered, when he replied, “Parish devil! you infernal scoundrel, have you roused me out of my bed at midnight to hoax and insult me in this manner? but you shall dearly repent your insolence.”
Watt stared with wonder, and replied, “Well, well, well! I never did hear such a thing in my life; you have just the old villain’s voice and swaggering way; I wish I may die if you don’t so frighten me; and I could almost swear the spiteful old Evans himself stood before me; hang him, I hate his very looks, and I am only holding a candle to the devil, in hopes of the parish clerkship, by seeming so civil to him.” Evans thought him certainly either mad or drunk; and without any further explanation, he called the two men in, and ordered them to secure him. The light at length broke in on Watt’s mind; Twm’s trick on him, and the real state of the case appeared; and he struggled hard before the fellows could secure him.
At length he cleared up his confused and chagrined countenance, and said, in an undaunted tone, “Well, well, well, I see the worst; farewell to mole-catching; farewell to parish-clerkship, and Bessy Gwevelheer; and you, you evil-minded old scourge, may bid farewell to all hopes of having me to father your brat, of which your maid Bessy is big. I will make the country ring with the stories of your rascalities if you dare to send me to the round house; but if you liberate me at once, I shall leave Tregaron for ever, in the course of a few days, and go abroad, to see the world and seek my fortune.”
To the great surprise of the men, and, perhaps, of Watt himself, Evans seemed cowed by his threats, and, after a little show of parleying, gave him that freedom of which he had no right to deprive him. Leaving him alone in his cottage, he shuffled home, accompanied by his worthless followers.
While Watt’s cottage became the theatre of the above-described scene, Twm Shon Catty had a performance of his own elsewhere—a dance if you will—to which the same reverend gentleman was doomed to pay the piper. Having watched the party to Watt’s door, Twm hastened to the parson’s, calling loudly in the assumed voice of one of the fellows who accompanied, “Mistress Evans! Mistress Evans! make haste and send master his pocket-book with his money, immediately; Twm Shon Catty is taken, and we are going off with him to Cardigan gaol.”
Mrs. Evans sleeping in a front room, heard him instantly, and with unusual alacrity jumped off bed; she soon threw down the pocket-book, which was caught by Twm, and asked him, “Doesn’t he want his weather-proof great coat also?” Our hero replied, “Yes, but, dear me, I did forget that,” and immediately received the great coat likewise. Mrs. Evans wishing them safe home from Cardigan, shut the window. The saddled horse was already at the gate, and Twm, well coated and cashed, instantly mounted and rode off, glorying in his triumph over his old rancorous enemy. “Here,” thought Twm, “is tangible revenge for all the trouble and persecution this reverend gentleman has brought upon me.” A full pocket-book, a good horse, and a warm great coat, after all, were not bad equivalents for Twm’s injuries. Some philosophers might consider that outraged feelings could not be solaced in this way. But in Twm’s case, at any rate, they were mistaken.