CHAPTER XX.
Twm is robbed by a highwayman. His meditations. Again is despoiled by a gipsy and a ballad-singer at Aberayon. He adopts the musical profession at Cardigan Fair.
Twm took a circuitous route over the mountains towards Lampeter, and, when he felt himself secure from pursuit, his first thought was to change his feminine attire for his own, as more convenient for riding, which was soon accomplished, and the suits changed places in the bundle. In his ignorance of the world, he scarce knew whither to direct his course after reaching Lampeter, where he arrived between one and two o’clock in the morning. He recollected that this was a central place, from which different roads led to Aberystwith, Llandovery, Carmarthen, Aberayon, and Cardigan; but found a difficulty in deciding which way to take.
It suddenly occurred to him that there was a fair at Cardigan the next day, and he determined to go there and sell the parson’s horse. The whole town being wrapped in slumbers, he was now at a stand, not knowing the road which led through Aberayon to Cardigan; but, rousing a cottager, he soon gained the necessary information, and proceeded on.
As he approached Aberayon, for the first time in his life, the distant roaring of the sea struck upon his ear, still increasing as he neared the ocean side. Wonder, awe, and even terror, were the successive sensations that agitated our hero. The saddening sobs of the mighty waters as they retreated from the shore, and the fearful fury of their rallying and re-assaulting the repulsing beach, with their successive wailing retreats, to gather the powers of the advancing tide, came on his soul like an accusing spirit that seemed to reproach him for his late misdeeds.
Severe self-accusing reflection on the atrocity of his last act, succeeded the triumphs of enmity that had first given a gust to its perpetration. Consciousness of guilt and terror of punishment at once assailed him, for he was yet young in crime. On the impulse of the moment, he determined to leave the parson’s nag behind him, and then return his cash and coat as early as possible.
While these bitter agitations were racking his breast, the clatter of a galloping horse increased his terrors, and he discerned both horse and rider making briskly towards him. Strange as it may appear, notwithstanding the opposite quarter from where the danger proceeded, in the wildness of his apprehensions he conceived it could be no other than Squire Graspacre, Parson Evans, and their party. He was actually glad when made to understand that the horseman was a highwayman. His unwelcome assailant quickly approached him and presenting his pistol, with a loud oath, to oblige “Dio the Devil” with all his cash and valuables, or prepare for immediate death.
The name of this terrific freebooter, who had, among many other descriptions of persons, robbed half the farmers in the country, and was supposed to have committed more than one murder, had its full effect upon Twm. He instantly resigned the parson’s purse, assuring him it was all he possessed and begged that he would allow him to retain a single angel; these terms, the robber, in a manner, acceded to, doubling his quest by giving two; but in return insisted on having his horse and great coat, which Twm gave up. Dio (whose name, by the way, is a familiar diminutive of David,) then with sarcastic politeness wished him good morning, and a pleasant journey! and galloped off in the direction of Lampeter, having the rein of the parson’s horse over his left arm.
No sooner had the highwaymen disappeared, than Twm was struck with a full conviction of the folly of the fears he had entertained, which by depressing his mind, he thought, led to confusedly yielding his property too easily: vowing to himself, after some reflection, that if possessed of a pair of pistols, no highwayman in the world should make him stand. His thoughts taking their course through this channel, wandered and diverged, till his mind rested on new, but perilous prospects.
“What a life,” thought he, “this Dio the Devil leads—a gentleman of the road—the terror of wealthy scoundrels, who are themselves the scourge of the hapless poor, that are starved into crime—famed, feared, and mained at the general cost, while many an honest fool toils like the gulled drudge-horse, crawls through the world half-starved, and is despised for meanness!” The weight and magnitude of his reflections were such as for a few moments to reduce him to absolute silence, when recovering himself, he continued, “What does it matter to me what others do? I shall please myself, and I don’t like hard work, nor do I care for coarse fare, and still less for great folk’s abuse and buffets; and if I had a pistol, why, I shouldn’t mind if—”