It's an old saying I'll grant, but it's a false one: grief will never be over at Walladmor: that's past all black men's healing!"
"But, Mrs. Godber, will you not come with me to Griffith ap Gauvon;"
She started up at the words Ap Gauvon; without speaking a word, she drew her cloak about her; and, as if possessed by some sudden remembrance, she strode off at so rapid a pace over the moor that Bertram had some difficulty in keeping up with her. This however he determined to do: for he remarked that her course lay towards a towering range of heights which seemed to overlook the valley in which they were walking, and which he had reason to believe was a principal range of Snowdon: he had been nearing it through the whole afternoon; and he knew that Ap Gauvon lay somewhere at the foot of that mountain. For some time his aged companion kept up her speed: but, on reaching a part of the moor which was intersected with turf pits, she was compelled to suit her pace to the intricacy of the ground; though even here she selected her path from the labyrinth before her with a promptitude and decision which showed that she was well acquainted with the ground she was traversing. On emerging again into smoother roads, she resumed at intervals her rapid motions: and again, on some sudden caprice as it seemed, would slink into a stealthy pace--and walk on tiptoe, as if in the act of listening or surprising some one before her. Once only she spoke, upon Bertram's asking if the abbey were a safe place for a stranger: "Oh aye," she replied, "Edward Nicholas is a lamb when he's not provoked: but his hand is red with blood for all that."
No question after this roused her attention. Now and then she sang; sometimes she crooned a word or two to herself; and more often she sank into thoughtful silence: until at length, after advancing in this way for about a mile and a half,--suddenly Bertram missed her; and looking round he saw the outline of a figure stealing away in the dusk and muttering some indistinct sounds of complaint. He felt considerable perplexity at being thus suddenly abandoned by his guide: but from this he was relieved by now distinguishing a group of towers and turrets close to him--which at first had escaped his eye from the dark background of mountainous barrier with which they seemed to blend: and going a few steps nearer, he perceived a light issuing from the window of a vault. To this window, for the purpose of reconnoitring the inmates of so lonely an abode, he now pushed his way with some difficulty through heaps of ruins and of tangled thorns. The upper edge of the window-frame however being on a level with the ground, he could perceive little more than a small part of a stone floor which lay at a great depth below him; and on this, by the strong light of a blazing fire, he saw the moving shadows of human figures as they passed and repassed: and at intervals he heard the rolling of casks and barrels. Determined to examine a little further, he stretched himself along the steep declivity of earth which sloped down to the lower edge of the window. In this posture he gained a complete view of the vault, which to his astonishment he now discovered to be a subterraneous church of vast dimensions, such as are sometimes found in the old monasteries below the ordinary chapel of the order. Seated at a table near the fire was a young man whose face, as it was at this moment lit up by a blazing fire, proclaimed him at once for the stranger whose services to Miss Walladmor and mysterious interview with her he had witnessed with so much interest. Round about him stood groups of armed men; but of these he took little notice. Bertram remarked that all of them treated him with an air of respect, and addressed him by the title of Captain: to which on his part he replied with an air of good natured familiarity that seemed to disown the station of authority which they were disposed to confer upon him. Anxious to hear and see a little more before he ventured into such a company, he endeavoured to shift his position for one more convenient to his purpose; but in this attempt he nearly, precipitated himself through the window. He recovered his footing however by suddenly catching at a mountain ash; but, in so doing, he dislodged a quantity of earth and stones which fell rattling down amongst the party below.
"Rats! rats!" instantaneously exclaimed the whole body: "shall we fire, Captain?"
"Stop a moment," said Nicholas; and mounting up a ladder, which stood near the window, he held up a lighted bough of Scotch fir to the place of Bertram's concealment.
"God bless my soul," exclaimed he, "its my young friend in search of the picturesque: I protest I never looked for is coming through the window. Here, bear a hand, and help him in."
The ladder was now applied and steadied; with some little difficulty in extricating himself from the rubbish and thorns which beset him, Bertram descended: and was not sorry to find himself, though amongst such society, suddenly translated from the severe cold of the air and a situation of considerable peril to the luxury of rest and a warm fire.
FOOTNOTE TO "CHAPTER X.":
[[1]] A picturesque expression borrowed from a celebrated English author in one of his letters from Paris, published in the Morning Chronicle.