Here Twm took his hand, and said, “You look deeper into the hearts of men than I thought; but listen to a mystery and expound the dream that has so long haunted me.”
Here he related the particulars of the “glorious vision” in the hay-loft of Morris Greeg, and of its repetition since he came to London; “and strange to say,” added he, “it was in widow’s weeds the fair spirit each time appeared. What can be the meaning or end of such dreams?” “I’ll tell thee,” answered Rhys, leaning on his shoulder and looking in his face; “Dreams long nursed, especially waking dreams, in time become realities—so will yours; you will marry this young widow, Twm!”
“Me! impossible!” cried Twm, blushing from the chin to the forehead. “Oh, very well, I’ll court her myself, then!” cried Rhys; on which they both burst into a most hearty laugh.
Our hero was growing silent and meditative, when Rhys, striking him a hearty smack on the shoulder, asked, “What would you say now, if the fair widow was herself in town at this moment?”
“What!” cried Twm, starting up, with an expression of interest that nothing could repress. Rhys in a most serious strain, assured him that her father, being chosen a knight of the shire for the ancient county of Brecon, was now in town with his widowed daughter. That he had ridden to town in their company, by which he had availed himself of a safe escort from the dangers of the road. Rhys added, that he had frequently conversed with the Lady Devereaux, both at home and on the journey, and that he, Master Thomas Jones, had always been the subject of her conversation and eulogy.
Very shortly after this conversation, in fact as shortly after as sufficed to take Twm and his friend Rhys to the town-house of Sir John Price, which was situated in Derby-street, Westminster, our hero was shaking hands and exchanging hearty good-wishes and congratulations with the “lady of his dream.” His recollection of his dearly-cherished vision was now stronger than ever, in consequence of the widows’ cap which she had lately assumed.
On the part of Sir John, our hero’s reception was more ceremonious than friendly, but the feeling evinced in his daughter’s eyes, and the speaking pressure of her hand, made ample amends for the baronet’s stately coldness.
Having dined together, Sir John retired early on a more ceremonial visit, and the three friends were left together; for Lady Devereaux held Rhys in great esteem for his high professional character, and unassuming manners; and, in truth, we must add, more than all, for the friendship evinced by him for our hero, and the friendly way in which he spoke of him in his absence. It was with surprise and regret they heard the announcement of Rhys’ intention (being now superceded in his curacy by the new incumbent,) of quitting his country and entering a foreign university, to seek in a far land that consideration and advancement not attainable in his own.
Lady Devereaux being only in the fifth month of her widowhood, the conversation, although kindly in the extreme, was of a melancholy cast. Rhys having to embark in the morning, urged the necessity of retiring early, and took his final leave of the fair widow, who expressed the kindest wishes for his prosperity and success in all undertakings.
Accompanying his friend, Twm bade her adieu for the evening, and gained her leave to repeat his visit on the morrow. The permission to repeat his visits was eagerly seized by Twm, and not once a day only, but many times did he trouble Sir John’s stately domestic to open the door to him. That he was welcome by the fair enchantress, he could not doubt, and pleasant were the mid-day walks in the Park or Mall, their indoor conferences, and the evening parties at which they shone as twin-stars; but trebly pleasant to our hero was the hour in which he ventured to break to her his tender feelings and his darling hopes.