Garthowen | Page 9

shuffling uneasily, for there
was a secret consciousness between him and his son that they had
wilfully kept Gwilym Morris in the dark as long as possible, fearing
lest his dissenting principles might prevent the accomplishment of their
wishes, "look you here now, Will, October is very near, and it means
money, my boy, and that's not gathered so easy as blackberries about
here; you must wait until Christmas, and you shall go to Llaniago in the
New Year, but I can't afford it now."
Will's handsome face flushed to the roots of his hair, his blue eyes
sparkled with anger, and the clear-cut mouth took a petulant curve as he
answered, rising hastily from the tea-table:
"Why didn't you tell me that sooner, instead of letting me go and speak

to Mr. Price? You have made a fool of me!" And he went out, banging
the door after him.
There was a moment's silence.
"Will's temper is not improving," said Ann at last.
"Poor boy," said the indulgent father, "'tis disappointed he is; but it
won't be long to wait till January."
"But, father," said Ann, "there is the 80 pounds you got for the two
ricks? You put that into the bank safe, didn't you?"
"Yes, yes, yes, quite safe, 'merch i. Don't you bother your head about
things that don't concern you," and he too went out, leaving Ann
drumming with her fingers on the tea-tray.
Her father's manner awoke some uneasiness in her mind, for long
experience had taught her that money had a way of slipping through his
hands ere ever it reached the wants of the household.
"I went with him to the bank," said Gwilym Morris reassuringly, "and
saw him put it in," and Ann was satisfied.
Under her skilful management, in spite of their dwindled means,
Garthowen was always a home of plenty. The produce of the farm was
exchanged at the village shops for the simple necessaries of domestic
life. The sheep on their own pasture lands yielded wool in abundance
for their home-spun clothing, the flitches of bacon that garnished the
rafters provided ample flavouring for the cawl, and for the rest Will and
Gwilym's fishing and shooting brought in sufficient variety for the
simple tastes of the family. Indeed, there was only one thing that was
not abundant at Garthowen, and that was--ready money!

[1] Spirit Sara.
[2] Do.

CHAPTER III
MORVA OF THE MOOR
When Will had reached the door of the farm kitchen in a fume of hot
temper, the cool sea breeze coming up the valley had bathed his flushed
face with so soothing an influence that he had turned towards it and
wandered away to the cliffs which made the seaward boundary of the
farm. A craggy hill on the opposite side of the valley cast its
lengthening shadow on his path until he reached the Cribserth, a ridge
of rocks which ran down the mountain side on the Garthowen land. It
rose abruptly from the mountain pasturage, as though some monster of
the early world were struggling to rise once more from its burial of ages,
succeeding only in erecting its rugged spine and crest through the green
sward. This ridge marked a curious division of the country, for on one
side of it lay all the signs of cultivation of which this wind-swept parish
could boast. Here were villages, fertile fields, and wooded valleys; but
beyond the rugged escarpment all was different. For miles the seaward
side of the hills was wild and bare, except for the soft velvet turf,
interspersed with gorse and heather, which stretched up the steep slopes,
covering and softening every rough outline. Even Will, as he rounded
the ridge, recovered his equanimity, and his face lighted up with
pleasure at the sight which met his view. Down below glistened a sea
of burnished gold, with tints and shades of purple grey; above stretched
a sky of still more glowing colours; and landward, rising to the blue of
the zenith, the rugged moorland was covered with a mantle of heath
and gorse, which shone in the evening sun in a rich mingling of gold
and purple.
"What a glorious evening!" were Will's first thoughts. The birds sang
around him, the sea lisped its soft whispers on the sea below, the song
of a fisherman out on the bay came up on the breeze, the rabbits
scudded across his path, and the seagulls floated slowly above him. All
the sullenness went out of his face, giving way to a look of pleased
surprise, as out of the carpet of gorgeous colouring spread before him
rose suddenly the vision of a girl. It was Morva who came towards him,
her hair glistening in the sunshine, her blue eyes dancing with the light

of