[1] Cowhouse.

CHAPTER XII

SARA'S VISION

"Morva, la.s.s," said Ann, "what's the matter to-day? No breakfast; after thy work at the churn, too?"

"Well, indeed," said Morva, "I drank so much b.u.t.ter milk that I don't want much breakfast."

"Come, la.s.s," said Ebben Owens, "hard work wants good feeding."

"Well," said Ann, "you are not eating much yourself. Did you sleep well, father?"

"Yes, of course," said the old man; "I always sleep like a top. Here's Will; he'll satisfy thee in the eating line, whatever."

"Yes; especially when there's fresh b.u.t.ter and new bread," said Will, sitting down and cutting a thick slice for himself. "What was the matter with Tudor last night? He was howling all night. Did you hear him, father?"

"Not I. 'Twas the moonlight, I suppose. Dogs often howl on a moonlight night."

"Tudor doesn't," said Ann. "I'm glad I didn't hear him, ach y fi! I don't like it at all. But where's Gwilym and Gethin? There's late they are."

At this moment the former entered and took his seat silently at the table, looking pale and flurried.

"Where can Gethin be?" said Ann again; "not back from the mountain?"

and Magw was sent to the top of the garden to call him, which she did with such stentorian tones that his name flew backwards and forwards across the valley, but no Gethin came.

Breakfast over, the big Bible was placed before Ebben Owens as usual, and all the farm servants a.s.sembled for prayers. When they rose from their knees and the wooden shoes had clattered out of the kitchen, Gwilym said, as he drew his chair to the table:

"Ann, we must wait a little longer for our furniture. My bag of sovereigns is gone!"

"Gone?" echoed everyone, and Morva, who was putting away the Bible, turned white with a deadly fear, which seemed to freeze the blood in her veins. In the excitement of the moment her change of countenance escaped the notice of the other members of the family.

"Gone," said Will, "gone where? What do you mean, man? Stolen?"

"Yes, no doubt, for the window and the drawer were open."

"The window?" said Ebben Owens. "Then the thief must have come in that way."

"And gone out, too, I suppose," said Gwilym.

"Tis that devil, Gryffy Lewis," said Will. "He could easily creep up from his cottage. You ought not to have told him."

"No, I ought not," said the preacher; "but, indeed, I was so glad of the money and to find that Tim 'Penlau' was honest after all our doubts, and Gryffy Lewis seemed as glad as I was."

"The deceitful blackguard!" said Ebben Owens.

"Well, we don't know it was he after all," suggested Gwilym. "Poor man, we must not blame him till we are certain. I hoped and believed that he had taken a turn for the better, and this would be a dreadful blow to me."

"Blow to you!" said Will excitedly. "I'll go to Castell On for a policeman, and it'll be a blow to Gryffy when he feels the handcuffs on his wrists."

"No--no," said Gwilym Morris, "that I will never allow." For in his daily life the preacher carried out his Master's teaching in its spirit, and forgave unto seventy times seven, and with curious inconsistency abhorred the relentless anger which on Sundays in the pulpit he unconsciously ascribed to the G.o.d whom he worshipped. "No, let him have the money, it will bring its own punishment, poor fellow!

I have lived long enough without it, and can do without it still, only poor Ann won't have mahogany chairs and a shining black sofa in her parlour--deal must do instead."

"Deal will do very well," said Ann soothingly,

"Well," said Ebben Owens, "you take your trouble like a Christian, Gwilym."

"Like a Christian!" said Will. "Like a madman I call it! I think you owe it to everyone in the house, Gwilym, to send for a policeman and have the matter cleared up."

"It wouldn't do," said Ebben, "to charge Gryffy without any proofs, so we had better hush it up and say nothing about it before the servants."

"Yes, that is the best plan," said the preacher, "and perhaps in time and by kindness I can turn Gryffy's mind to repentance and to returning the money."

"But where's Gethin this morning?" inquired Will. "I hope nothing has happened to Bowler."

The morning hours slipped by, and yet Gethin did not appear. At dinner in the farm kitchen there were inquiries and comments, but n.o.body knew anything of the absent one.

In the best kitchen the meal was partaken of in silence, a heavy cloud hung over the household, and terrible doubts clutched at their hearts, but no one spoke his fears. When, however, the shades of evening were closing in, and neither on moor nor meadow, in stable nor yard, was Gethin to be seen, a dreadful certainty fell upon them. It was too evident that he had disappeared from the haunts of Garthowen. Will swore under his breath, Gwilym Morris was even more tender than usual to every member of the family, and Ebben Owens went about the farm with a hard look on his face, and a red spot on each cheek, but n.o.body said anything more about sending for a policeman. Ann cried herself to sleep that night. Morva went home to her mother, white and dry-eyed, her mind full of anxious questioning, her heart sinking with sorrow.

Sara held out her wrinkled hand towards her.

"Come, 'merch fach i, 'tis trouble, I know; but what is it, la.s.s?"

"Oh, mother, 'tis too dreadful to think of! How can such things be?

You say the spirits come and talk to you, they never come to me; ask them to be kind to me, too, and to take me to themselves, for this world is too full of cruel thorns!"

Sara's kind eyes filled with tears.

"Oh! that I could bear thy sorrow for thee, my little girl; but it is one of the thorns of life that we cannot raise the burden of sorrows from our dear ones and bind it on our own shoulders. G.o.d alone can help thee, my child."

"Mother, do you know what has happened?"

"Yes," said the old woman. "I was quite failing to sleep last night, so I got up and lighted the fire, and I read a chapter sitting here on the settle. After I had read, looking I was at the flames and the sparks that flew upwards, and a vision came before me. I was at Garthowen in the dark, I saw a figure creeping quietly into a room; it was a man, but I could not recognise him. He opened a drawer, and took something out of it, and I did not see anything more. When I awoke the fire had gone out, and I was very cold, so I went back to bed, and slept heavily all night, and when I awoke this morning I knew thou wouldst come to me in sorrow and fright."

"Well, mother, can you gather some comfort from your vision? Oh! tell me the meaning of it all. What did Gethin want in Gwilym's room?"

"Gethin?" said Sara, in astonishment, "in Gwilym Morris's room!"

"Yes, I saw him; and from there a bag of sovereigns has been stolen.

He has gone away without a word to anyone, and I know they all think that he has done this dreadful thing? but I will _not_ believe it, never! never! never!"

"No, it is all dark, but one thing is plain to me and thee, Gethin did not do this shameful thing. Let me be, child, and perhaps it will all come before me again, or perhaps Gethin will come back. I know, whatever, that my message to thee is Gethin is not guilty of this wickedness."

"Mother, I believe you," said the girl; "and though all the world should swear it was Gethin, I should know better, for you know, mother.