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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 
 OF 
 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 
 LOS ANGELES 

 
 THE PENNANT FAMILY
 
 ''upon that cheek and o'er that brow 
 So soft, so calrr, yet eloquent, 
 The smiles that win, the tints that glow. 
 But tell of days in goodness spent, — 
 A mind at peace with all below, 
 A heart whose love is innocent." 
 
 Byron.
 
 " What have you got there, Davy Jones? " 
 
 [Page 28.
 
 THE PENNANT FAMILY 
 
 EY 
 
 ANNE BEALE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ''SQUIRE LiSLE's BEQUEST," "GLADYS, THE REAPER," "SIMPLICITY AND 
 FASCINATION," " THE QUEEN O' THE MAY," ETC., ETC. 
 
 SIXTH EDITION 
 
 bonbon 
 
 HODDER AND STOUGHTON 
 
 27 PATERNOSTER ROW 
 
 MDCCCXCV
 
 Butler & Tanner, 
 
 The Selwood Printing Works, 
 
 Frome, and London.
 
 B2?7p 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The story of the Earl of Craigavon is founded on fact, 
 and may be read in the History of Glamorganshire 
 under the heading "Dunraven Castle." What may 
 appear incredible to the reader in these pages is strictly 
 true, as far as the Earl is concerned, and tends to verify 
 the well-worn saying that "Truth is stranger than 
 fiction." 
 
 1733104
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHATTER 
 
 I. Craigavon Castle 
 
 II. The Tempest 
 
 III. The Earl and the Farmer 
 
 IV. The Foundling . 
 V. Their Ladyships 
 
 VI. A Black Waif . 
 
 VII. Daisy at the Castle 
 
 VIII. Tutor and Governess 
 
 IX. Aran Tower 
 
 X. The Broken Leg 
 
 XI. Ap Adam's Sixth Boy 
 
 XII. Notice to Quit . 
 
 XIII. On the Esgair . 
 
 XIV. A Summons to the Casti 
 
 XV. Fearless 
 
 XVI. In the Wagon . 
 
 XVII. Preaching at Monad 
 
 XVIII. Christmas and Carad 
 
 XIX. Christmas Morn 
 
 XX. Noble Visitors . 
 
 XXI. Gaiety at the Castle 
 
 XXII. Sickness at the Castle 
 
 XXIII. Projected Elopements 
 
 XXIV. Threat of Ejection 
 XXV. Carad Tells Daisy . 
 
 XXVI. Partings 
 
 XXVII. Daisy's Tears 
 
 XXVIII. London at Last . 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 4 
 
 12 
 IS 
 23 
 
 27 
 
 37 
 46 
 
 52 
 
 5* 
 66 
 
 75 
 
 73 
 
 87 
 
 96 
 
 107 
 
 "5 
 123 
 
 '32 
 141 
 
 149 
 
 159 
 170 
 179 
 1S9 
 199 
 203 
 208
 
 v iii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXIX. Sickness at the Farm . 
 
 XXX. Brother and Sister 
 
 XXXI. Evan the Tower . 
 
 XXXIT. The Brink of the Precipice 
 
 XXXIII. Important! Immediate! 
 
 XXXIV. An Engagement 
 XXXV. The Earl's «■ Day of Grace 
 
 XXXVI. The Countess is Dead . 
 
 XXXVII. Extinguished . 
 
 XXXVIII. The Canwyll Corff 
 
 XXXIX. The Wreckers. 
 
 XL. Retribution . 
 
 XLI. "Take Him up Tenderly" 
 
 XI. II. " Found Drowned !" . 
 
 XLIII. Remorse . 
 
 XLIV. Reconciliation 
 
 XLV. The Earl's Heiress 
 
 XLVI. His Lordship's Solitude Broken 
 
 XLVII. Cancelling a Debt 
 
 XLVIII. A Fraternal Explanation 
 
 XLIX. A Lonely Journey . 
 
 L. Two Fathers . 
 
 LI. From Farm to Castle . 
 
 LI I. Carad and Daisy . 
 
 LI II. A Father's Love . 
 
 LIV. Two Weddings 
 
 LV. Conclusion 
 
 TAGF 
 
 216 
 224 
 
 230 
 236 
 
 243 
 250 
 
 257 
 
 265 
 
 271 
 
 277 
 
 283 
 
 2S9 
 
 295 
 299 
 
 308 
 
 , 312 
 , 321 
 . 327 
 
 ■ 334 
 
 • 34i 
 
 • 347 
 
 • 353 
 . 361 
 
 • 37' 
 . 376 
 
 • 381 
 
 • 3SS
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CRAIGAVON CASTLE. 
 
 THE Castle of Craigavon was an imposing structure on 
 the Welsh coast. It was situated on a rocky promon- 
 tory called the Megin, nearly a hundred feet above the sea, 
 and dominated to right and left the bays of Ogof and Ton. 
 The names were significant : Megin, or bellows, blowing the 
 Ton, or wave, through the Ogof, or cavern, hollowed beneath 
 the Castle by the persistent attacks of the sea. As the bays 
 were deeply indented, the promontory stretched far out into 
 mid-ocean, and the situation of the Castle was, consequently, 
 singularly wild and romantic. Towering cliffs, coloured like 
 the rainbow, surrounded the bays, from the summit of which 
 lofty hills rose skyward. Although the Castle itself was almost 
 bare of vegetation, fields and woods appeared where the pro- 
 montory joined the mainland ; and the Lord of Craigavon 
 ruled, not only the sea, but the hill-side. He was, literally, 
 " monarch of all he surveyed." 
 
 It was said that Craigavon Castle originally belonged to a 
 British king, but that, as time went on, a Norman knight 
 gained possession of it, from whom the present Earl was de- 
 scended. He, as Lord of the Manor, received not only tenths 
 and tithings from his tenants, but the waifs and strays cast up 
 by the sea. As the coast was notorious for the horrible prac- 
 tice of wrecking vessels, these waifs formed a considerable 
 portion of his income. There were quicksands not far from 
 Ton Bay, which were certain destruction to any ship that 
 
 B
 
 2 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 struck on them ; therefore, before philanthropists built light- 
 houses and established lifeboats, the Lord of the Manor 
 gathered a fine harvest from the perilous sea. 
 
 And the sea at that particular spot was generally perilous. 
 Besides the quicksands, there were great rocks hidden beneath 
 its treacherous breast, which were as sure, as the jaws of the 
 fabled monsters of old to break up or engulph the unfortunate 
 vessels that happened upon them. It was a playground of 
 demons visible and invisible. The visible demons were the 
 wreckers, who allured by false lights the ships' crews to death ; 
 the invisible, the devil and his angels urging on the visible. 
 
 On a dark night, years ago, a storm brooded over the Megin 
 and its bays. The Castle faced the west, and, while deep in 
 shadow itself, looked upon the last rays of a lurid sunset. 
 More than one vessel was dimly visible on the perturbed 
 horizon, and an occasional flickering streak of light showed 
 that they were tossed about in the distant waves. People 
 were watching in some of the Castle windows until the sun 
 went down and " darkness settled on the face of the deep ; " 
 then an uncertain gleam flickered here and there from the 
 frowning towers, until darkness veiled them also. 
 
 But there was a moving light upon the cliffs. This was not 
 unfrequently seen there of a stormy night; and the Welsh, 
 then a more superstitious people than now, believed it to be a 
 corpse-candle — a portentous sort of ignis fatuus, that presaged 
 the death of some dweller amongst the mountains. It cer- 
 tainly flitted strangely from place to place, seeming most con- 
 spicuous on the elevated and dangerous points. Although the 
 nighr was threatening, the storm still kept at a distance, an 
 occasional far-off peal of thunder, with its messenger flash ot 
 lightning, being its precursors. It was curious to see the 
 meteor flit about, and difficult to imagine what it would appear 
 to the crews of the distant ships. 
 
 At last the storm came down, but the heavy rain did not 
 extinguish the corpse-candle j and such peasants, farmers, or 
 fishermen as chanced either to be abroad, or to glance from
 
 CRAIGAVON CASTLE. 3 
 
 their houses, would silently wonder which of them was next 
 to be borne to the old churchyard in the glen. As the tem- 
 pest increased, the waves rose higher and higher, dashing with 
 impotent fury against the impregnable rocks, and bounding 
 through the great caverns underneath the Castle, which they 
 had themselves excavated. 
 
 In a momentary lull of the storm, there came a signal of 
 distress from the sea. Another and another sounded through 
 the dreary darkness. Minute-gun on minute-gun echoed with 
 the echoing thunder, and, without timely aid, it was evident 
 that the ship whence they came was doomed. 
 
 Meanwhile, the wandering light on the cliff became sta- 
 tionary, as if in confirmation of the superstition respecting it. 
 A sudden flash of lightning revealed a ship battling with the 
 waves, beneath the cliffs and near the quicksands, opposite the 
 glare of the meteor, which presaged the death of many instead 
 of one, and had possibly drawn towards it the ill-fated vessel. 
 But no sooner were cries of distress audible from the sea than 
 it moved again. It now went steadily onwards over the cliffs 
 towards Craigavon Castle, disappearing when it neared the 
 promontory, where the cliff path terminated the road that led 
 to the Castle, but reappearing from time to time as the road 
 ascended or descended. The prophetic gleam was pitiless 
 indeed, for, just as a shrill cry of despair echoed across the 
 bay, it vanished into the great quadrangular battlemented 
 court of the Castle, leaving behind, around, above, and be- 
 neath, the utter darkness of night.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 WHILE the storm was raging, the inmates of Brynhafod, 
 or the Hill Farm, were engaged in reading the Bible. 
 Old Farmer Pennant sat at a round table in the chimney- 
 corner, with the Book of Life before him. He was a hale 
 man, though over seventy, and if his hair was whiie, his voice 
 was still clear, and he read without spectacles. His daughter- 
 in-law was seated opposite, her knitting in her lap, her head 
 slightly bent, her eyes closed. She was dozing under the 
 influence of a huge wood fire that flamed and crackled on the 
 hearth. Her husband, young Farmer Pennant, as he was 
 called, sat erect on the corner of a settle, opposite his father, 
 a grave, attentive look on his fine face. Caradoc and Michael 
 Pennant, their sons, were near their mother, on low stools in 
 the chimney-corner, the arm of the elder placed protectingly 
 round the neck of the younger. Marget, a middle-aged 
 servant, in Welsh costume, with a high beaver hat surmount- 
 ing her snow-white cap and pinners, sat bolt upright, her eyes 
 fixed like pole-stars on the reader. She was at the extreme 
 end of the settle, nearly opposite the fire. Close to her, in an 
 old-fashioned arm-chair, was Benhadad, the farm man, and at 
 his right, Benjamin, the ploughboy — known as Big Ben and 
 Little Ben — who both slept at the farm. 
 
 When the weather was tempestuous, old Farmer Pennant 
 always chose the 107th Psalm. Just as he read the words, 
 " They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and 
 are at their wits' end," Caradoc started from his seat, exclaiming, 
 
 " The gun ! Grandfather, I hear the gun ! "
 
 THE TEMPEST. 5 
 
 " Let us pray," said the old man, interrupting himself in his 
 reading, and kneeling down. 
 
 All the family knelt with him. 
 
 " Lord, have mercy on those who go down to the sea in 
 ships. Make the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof be 
 still," he prayed, in the fine, ancient language of his country. 
 Then, rising from his knees, he added, " Now, come with me 
 all of you, except the women and Michael." 
 
 "Oh, grandfather, let me go also !" pleaded Michael. 
 
 "Thou art too young and too delicate, my lad," was the 
 reply, and Michael shrank behind his mother. 
 
 " Let them go without you to-night, father ; it is such a 
 tempest ! " said Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 " I am well and hearty," was the rejoinder, as men and boys 
 hurried in search of lanterns. 
 
 " Heart alive, mistress ; you may as well try to move the 
 nether millstone ! " ejaculated Marget, as she brought a great 
 coat and insisted on putting it on the old master. 
 
 They all went from the large, warm, light hall into the cold, 
 dark passage. The wind and rain burst in as they opened the 
 door, and with them the echo of the distress-signal. The men 
 went out into the night, leaving the women and Michael on 
 the door-sill. 
 
 " Ah, there it is ! Look, mistress ! See you the corpse- 
 candle down yonder by the Castle ? They'll all be lost ! 
 Lord a'mercy upon us ! They are lost, for the candle has 
 gone out ! " cried Marget, in breathless terror. 
 
 Mr. David Pennant, Caradoc, and little Ben hurried through 
 the silent garden and farmyard, followed by the old farmer and 
 the man. Although nothing but "darkness was visible," they 
 knew their way too well to miss it. 
 
 " Moses ! Shon ! Come out ! Bring the ropes ! " they 
 shouted, like Stentors through the storm, as they passed the 
 hut where the carter and shepherd — two brothers — dwelt to- 
 gether. 
 
 These men were soon on their track, for they were well
 
 6 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 accustomed to similar calls. The farm was a surer haven for 
 shipwrecked mariners than the inhospitable bays. 
 
 "Where is Gwylfa?" asked Mr. David Pennant. 
 
 "He was off with the storm, father, he never waits for the 
 gun," replied Caradoc. 
 
 "The Earl will have fine spoil to night. I'm afraid the 
 vessel is on the quicksands, and we shall be of no use," said 
 David Pennant, stumbling down the rocky path. " I wish his 
 lordship would give us a decent road, and we should have a 
 better chance of saving life ; but he thinks of nothing but 
 saving money. How dark it is ! — and how it pours ! " 
 
 " Hark ! father ; I heard a cry. We shall be too late ! " 
 said Caradoc. 
 
 On they went by the dim light of four lanterns, while the 
 storm came heavily down. The almost impassable mountain- 
 road led to Ton Bay, An occasional flash of lightning re- 
 vealed the rocks on either side, and the roar of the sea below 
 mingled with the howl of the storm. It was an awful night. 
 
 "God help them !" ejaculated the old farmer; "but sailors 
 are better prepared than most of us. Ben, Moses, we must all 
 be ready for death !" 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the two men, who were on either side of 
 their master, lanterns in their hands, the light of which scarcely 
 guided them over the stones. 
 
 When the first detachment reached the bay, it was dark as 
 Erebus. The lanterns barely served to show the fury of the 
 waves as they leapt up the cliffs and promontory, and dashed 
 like an invading army of wild horsemen into the bay. Some 
 huge creature suddenly jumped upon Caradoc. 
 
 "Gwylfa! All right, old boy. What have you found?" 
 said the lad. 
 
 It was a large Newfoundland dog, trained to save life, when 
 possible, and named " Gwylfa," or " Watch." He and his 
 young master were close to the waves in a moment. The horn 
 lantern was turned towards the beach in the vain hope of find- 
 ing a human being, while the dog sat watching the sea.
 
 THE TEMPEST. 7 
 
 " Let us climb the cliffs, father," cried Caradoc ; and father 
 and son, each with a light, mounted a dangerous rocky path, 
 and stood with their lanterns extended as beacons towards the 
 open sea. 
 
 A sudden flash of lightning showed them a mast and part of 
 a sail in the offing. 
 
 "She is on the quicksands ! and there is a light in my lord's 
 tower," said David Pennant, in a hoarse voice. "We must 
 watch for the boat. Go down and send up Big Ben ; he is 
 taller than thou, and can hold the lantern higher." 
 
 Caradoc obeyed, and, while the two men held the dim 
 signals aloft, rejoined Gwylfa on the beach. 
 
 It would be difficult to say how long they watched silently, 
 while the tempest continued to rage around. Mr. Pennant 
 and Ben, up the cliff, sheltered by a ledge of rock, more than 
 once thougnt they saw a boat on the crest of a wave, while 
 the old farmer and the other servants, under cover of a cave, 
 imagined cries of distress. 
 
 A sudden bark, and Gwylfa was in the sea, struggling with 
 the waves and the darkness. Caradoc ran to the cave to call 
 forth the men with the ropes. 
 
 " He has seen something ! " cried the lad, hurrying back. 
 
 There was a momentary lull, and the clouds parted above 
 the bay. A faint gleam of moonlight appeared between, and 
 showed Gwylfa on the crest of a wave with something in his 
 mouth. The sea raged up the beach and tore back again, 
 the dog still battling with the waves. The envious clouds 
 reclosed, and all was again darkness. 
 
 "Have mercy, O Lord!" ejaculated the old farmer, while 
 Caradoc stood breathless with suspense, holding his light aloft, 
 and the others shouted, "Courage, Gwylfa! Halloo, good dog! 
 Here we are ! " as if the fine fellow had ears of Midas. 
 
 Five minutes appeared five hours ; but God heard the old 
 man's prayer and guarded the adventurous Caradoc, who, in 
 his eagerness, had advanced too near the waves, as if to let 
 his dim light pierce through them, and was covered with foam
 
 8 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 and lifted off his feet. He felt himself knocked down, and 
 in another moment was conscious that Gwylfa must have done 
 it while striving to land. He regained his footing while the 
 big wave receded, and 'he and the dog again stood together 
 on the beach. Both retreated for safety. Caradoc felt a paw 
 on his shoulder, and then knew that Gwylfa had sunk down 
 breathless while dropping something at his feet. But he had 
 lost his lantern. 
 
 The thunder rolled overhead, and kindled the lightning by 
 the friction of his chariot- wheels. Successive flashes darted 
 across the beach, and revealed to Caradoc something white. 
 He raised it with a sort of tender terror. By this time the 
 others had come with their lanterns, and, as they gathered 
 round the boy, the feeble glimmer, together with the fitful 
 lightning, showed the white face of a child. 
 
 One of the men instantly took some sort of woollen shawl 
 from beneath his outer garment, and wrapped it round the 
 little limbs. 
 
 " I can carry him," said the boy, resolutely, and was on the 
 way to the farm before the others knew it. 
 
 He was followed by one of the men, who could not, how- 
 ever, overtake him. Happily he knew the road as well by 
 night as day, and even took a path across a field to shorten 
 distance. The storm was abating, and the moon struggling to 
 light him, as he bore his burden bravely through the night. 
 
 He burst in upon his mother and Marget with the words, 
 '• It is not dead ! — it is warming ! — take it, mother ! The big 
 tub— the boiler — hot water!" Then he sat down exhausted 
 on the settle. 
 
 Mrs. Pennant received the flannel bundle, while Marget ran 
 to Caradoc. 
 
 "Ach, they'll all be killing themselves!" said Marget, angrily. 
 "Take this posset, and go to bed directly." 
 
 Caradoc drank a portion of some steaming mixture that 
 Marget took from the hearth, roused himself, and staggered to 
 his mother. She was seated on her low stool in the chimney-
 
 THE TEMPEST. 9 
 
 corner, stripping the drowned child of a wet nightgown, and 
 murmuring, — 
 
 "Dead ! Merciful Father ! Poor innocent !" 
 
 It was a little girl, with face and limbs of marble, and fair 
 hair, wet with brine. 
 
 "Get a bath directly, Marget!" said Mrs. Pennant, begin- 
 ning to chafe the small white feet. " Give me yonder blanket, 
 Carad." 
 
 The women had already made preparations for an emergency, 
 so no time was lost. The child was first enveloped in the 
 blanket, then laid on the hearth, and gently rubbed by Mrs. 
 Pennant, while Marget and Caradoc drew in a clean, white tub 
 from the dairy. Two large, steaming kettles hung on their 
 hooks over the flaming logs, one of which Marget seized, 
 covering her hands first with her woollen apron. Its boiling 
 contents were soon poured into the tub, and then mitigated 
 with cold water. 
 
 " Now go you to bed. We don't want two corpses in the 
 house at once!" said Marget, imperatively, to Caradoc, who 
 was shivering. 
 
 "Let me know that she is not dead, and I will go," replied 
 the boy, his teeth chattering. 
 
 Mrs. Pennant placed the little rigid form in the hot water, 
 while tears coursed slowly down her own pale cheeks. 
 
 "Don't fret, mother: she is not dead !" whispered Caradoc, 
 putting his wet sleeve round her neck and kissing her. 
 
 "It's all coming over again — there's no peace!" muttered 
 Marget, leaving the hall, but soon returning with bread and 
 milk, which she stirred vigorously in a saucepan over the fire. 
 
 "She breathes, mother!" whispered Caradoc, himself breath- 
 less. 
 
 There were, indeed, signs of returning animation. A little 
 hand moved in the water, a tiny white foot rose and fell, a faint 
 cry was heard. They put some warm milk between the small, 
 blanched lips, and it disappeared. At last the pretty eyelids, 
 that lay like snowdrops on snow, were uplifted, and a pair of
 
 10 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 blue eyes looked for a moment at Mrs. Pennant ; then the 
 snowdrops drooped again. 
 
 " Mamma ! " murmured the child ; and, " Thank God ! " 
 ejaculated Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 When Caradoc at last consented to go to bed, the little girl 
 lay in his mother's aims asleep. 
 
 "May I kiss her, mother?" he asked. "She is like our 
 little Phoebe." 
 
 He kissed her and his mother, and went to bed, followed by 
 Marget, who had unhung the shining brass warming-pan and 
 filled it with burning ashes, in order to warm his bed. 
 
 Mrs. Pennant and the child were left awhile alone. The good 
 woman let her tears have way. She had lost five children, the 
 last an only girl, who had been taken by the Father when 
 about the age of the little rescued one on her lap. She had 
 been a melancholy woman ever since, and had not been able, 
 like her husband, to say, " Thy will be done." Whose was 
 this treasure thus suddenly brought to her ? — and what of the 
 mother who had lost her ? Would she, too, be rescued from 
 the waves and take refuge in the farm ? This last thought 
 recalled the men who were still at the bay to her mind. She 
 roused herself, and began to consider what she should do with 
 the little girl. Moving, she awakened her. 
 
 " Mamma ! Ayah ! " murmured the child, looking dreamily 
 around. 
 
 Mrs. Pennant raised her, and gave her more hot milk ; but 
 she was too weak to hold up her head, and soon fell back into 
 a sort of stupor. Marget returned with the warming-pan, and 
 it was settled that she should be laid in Mrs. Pennant's bed. 
 Shovelling more ashes into the brazier, Marget preceded her 
 mistress up the old oaken staircase, and into a large bedroom 
 in which were a capacious bedstead and two small cribs. 
 Marget opened the bed-clothes, inserted the warming-pan, and 
 moved it up and down with a will. 
 
 "There! Name o' goodness, what next?" she cried. "1 
 wonder when we shall be in bed ! and who's to get up at cock.
 
 THE TEMPEST. I 1 
 
 crow that goes to sleep at bulls'-noons ? The child can't sleep 
 in a blanket. There's purty she is ! Look you at the chain 
 and charm round her neck ; I'm thinking it's gold. I'll be 
 getting one of little Phoebe's nightgowns." 
 
 " No, Marget, no. Take the warming-pan away ; your 
 master doesn't like it," said Mrs. Pennant ; and she was once 
 more alone with the little girl. 
 
 Phoebe's nightgowns ! Yes. Of what use were they locked 
 up in yonder drawer ? Still it was not a nightgown, but one 
 of Michael's shirts that she drew forth, and hurried downstairs 
 to air. 
 
 Returning, she drew it gently over the slumbering child, and 
 then wrapped a plaid shawl of warm, native wool about her. 
 While doing this, she examined the chain and locket, containing 
 hair, which hung round her neck, and which had attracted 
 Marget's attention. They were of fine, delicate workmanship, 
 and diamonds and pearls ornamented the back of the locket. 
 Mrs. Pennant bent over the little girl, and her motherly kiss 
 seemed to restore colour to the white cheeks. The smile of 
 infancy crept into a dimple, and the lips unclosed, revealing 
 baby teeth. Mrs. Pennant said a verse of a simple hymn that 
 she had been accustomed to repeat the last thing at night over 
 her own infants, but which had not escaped her since little 
 Phoebe's death. Smoothing the golden hair that lay upon the 
 pillow, she kissed the child again, and went to visit her boys. 
 
 " Mother ! " exclaimed Caradoc, " is there anything the 
 matter? Are they come back ? The storm has ceased." 
 
 The lad looked flushed and restless, and could not sleep. 
 His eager black eyes sought his mother's, and he seemed 
 satisfied with their quiet, if tearful expression. Michael lay 
 sleeping tranquilly by his side. He was pale and delicate- 
 looking, and the mother was always anxious about him. 
 
 " It was well he did not go, mother," said Caradoc. " But 
 I wish I were at the bay. Gwylfa saved her, but I brought her 
 to you. Do you think she will live ? We will keep her for 
 ever, instead of Phoebe."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE EARL AND THE FARMER. 
 
 THE following morning sunshine smiled upon land and 
 sea. The throes of Ocean had ceased, and he slept 
 long after sunrise. There was no trace on his treacherous 
 breast, as he lay bathed in golden light, of the mischief he had 
 done. Ogof and Ton, his twin children, so riotous the previous 
 night, lay at rest, giving for signs of life only the sweet ripples 
 of their breathing slumber. Even the frowning towers of 
 Craigavon Castle were crowned with light, and as for the hills 
 and cliffs, they were aglow with colour, for the phosphorescent 
 lias of the limestone rocks sparkled like many-hued gems. 
 
 As Mr. Pennant had been the last to leave Ton Bay when 
 the tempest raged, so he thought to be the first to visit it 
 when calm. But he was mistaken. The Earl of Craigavon 
 was there before him, seeing to his rights. His lordship was 
 an early riser, so it was not surprising that he should have 
 descended the private path from the promontory to the bay 
 soon after sunrise. Still, he was pretty sure wreckers had been 
 there first, for the sea had not, as usual, cast up any of the 
 treasures of the deep. He was neither greeted by the grim 
 faces of the drowned, nor by what the shipwrecked had 
 possessed. The tide was tolerably far out, so the sands might 
 have been strewn with spoil ; but they were not. Either the 
 ship had got off, or been wholly engulphed ; but such results 
 were unusual on that coast. The Earl wandered from rock to 
 rock, his hands behind his back, glancing through the great 
 cave, up the cliffs, towards the quicksands, and across the bay ;
 
 THE EARL AND THE FARMER. 1 3 
 
 all was tranquil as the sky above. Doubtless the wreckers had 
 been before him. 
 
 The Earl of Craigavon was about forty years of age. He 
 was tall, as regarded the number of feet he actually stood, but 
 shortened by his gait. He had a habit of stooping forwards 
 as if in search of something, and usually kept his eyes on the 
 ground. Those eyes were keen enough when raised, but 
 rarely looked you in the face. They were of that greenish 
 grey attributed to cats' eyes, and his enemies said that he had 
 with them the feline gift of seeing in the dark. People called 
 him and his cast of countenance aristocratic, because he was 
 well-made, thin, had a hooked nose, pale face, colourless 
 lips, a military moustache, a reserved manner, and unapproach- 
 able deportment. He was feared by his inferiors, and little 
 understood by his equals. This descendant of the Norman 
 conquerors was not more popular with the sturdy descendants 
 of the ancient Britons than his ancestors had been with their 
 forbears. Indeed, at that time Norman and Celt had not 
 begun to love one another. How should they ? They spoke 
 different languages, and there were neither railroads nor 
 national schools to bring them together. Certainly, the Earls 
 of Craigavon should have lived out antipathy during the 
 hundreds of years they had possessed the lands ; but they had 
 not done so. Indeed, they, like many an interloper of the 
 present day, had not tried. 
 
 Mr. David Pennant, who appeared suddenly at the bay, was 
 a man of another type. Tradition declared that the Pennants 
 were descended directly from the old British king who once 
 owned the Castle, and hence the somewhat lordly name — 
 Caradoc. Indeed, they possessed a long piece of parchment, 
 the writing on which was partly obliterated, which seemed to 
 prove that tradition was correct. Be that as it may, they had 
 held the farm of Brynhafod by interminable leases from time 
 out of mind ; and hitherto no Earl of Craigavon had been able 
 to turn them out. The present lease, however, was to expire 
 in a dozen years or so, and the neighbours sometimes asked
 
 14 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 one another whether the Earl would be likely to grant a new 
 one to David Pennant, who was as stiff, proud, and independ- 
 ent in his way as his lordship was in his. This was apparent 
 in his gait, as he swung down the road and along the sands, 
 followed by Gwylfa. He was a dark-eyed, florid, good-looking 
 man, and, although dressed in his rough farmer's suit of fustian 
 coat and corduroy breeches, showed at a glance that he was 
 made of sterling metal. 
 
 "Where's the wreck, Gwylfa?" he exclaimed, as he stood 
 to contemplate the scene. Then, perceiving the Earl, added, 
 under his breath, " Looking for squalls, as usual." 
 
 Lord Craigavon turned at the sound of his voice. 
 
 "Morning, Pennant," said the Earl in Welsh. 
 
 "Good morning, my lord," said the farmer. 
 
 The Earl spoke the language, but not readily. The farmer 
 spoke no other. 
 
 " A bad storm last night," remarked the former, his eyes on 
 the ground, as usual. 
 
 "Terrific, my lord ! We were here, for we heard signals of 
 distress. Either the ship went down, or was got off by a 
 miracle. I fear she went down out there by the quick- 
 sands." 
 
 " How so, since nothing has been cast up ? " 
 
 " The salvage will be Gwylfa's, my lord. He was so happy 
 as to bring a little girl to land, who is now high and dry up 
 at our place. She is a waif at your lordship's service ; but the 
 good dog, not the wave, landed her." 
 
 Lord Craigavon frowned as he met the farmer's eyes for a 
 moment, then glanced at the dog. 
 
 "You have trained him to some purpose." 
 
 "Yes, my lord ! he has saved many a life, and is a better 
 Christian than the wreckers. How is their devilish trade to 
 be stopped ? I don't think they profited by it last night." 
 
 The Earl made no reply, but looked from the dog to the 
 beach. 
 
 " Shall we send the child to the Castle, my lord ? " con-
 
 THE EARL AND THE FARMER. I 5 
 
 tinued the undaunted Pennant ; " she belongs to your lordship 
 as a portion of the wreck." 
 
 " By no means — send her to the workhouse ! " 
 "Your lordship will have nothing to do with her? " 
 " Certainly not. I keep neither sailors nor their brats ! " 
 " Only their goods and chattels, my lord ; you have the best 
 of it. What hast found, Gwylf — another baby ? " 
 
 The dog had seen something floating in the sea, and had 
 dashed in after it. Lord Craigavon's glance followed him. At 
 this moment two boys appeared — one from the Castle, the 
 other from the farm-roads. They were Lord Penruddock, the 
 Earl's only son, and Caradoc. Gwylfa came dripping from the 
 water, and laid his stray at his young master's feet, who stood 
 irresolute at the entrance to the bay. Caradoc stooped to pick 
 up a large doll. 
 
 "This is really dead," he said, laughing. 
 The doll's eyes were closed, the colour washed off its face 
 and lips, its crisp locks straightened, its muslins and satins wet 
 and discoloured. 
 
 " A most deplorable infant, indeed ! Why, Gwylfa, you have 
 excelled yourself!" exclaimed the young lord, joining Cara- 
 doc. 
 
 " She must have lost it when she was drowning," mused 
 Caradoc. 
 
 "She— who?" 
 
 " The little girl Gwylfa brought in last night." 
 " What do you mean ? Tell me all about it ! " 
 Lord Penruddock spoke and understood Welsh better than 
 his father, so he readily comprehended Caradoc's rapid tale. 
 Before it was ended, the Earl and Mr. Pennant joined them, 
 to see what Gwylfa had brought in. The former frowned ; the 
 latter smiled. Caradoc raised his cap to the Earl, who, how- 
 ever, took no notice of him. 
 
 " Another waif, my lord. Shall we send it to the Castle, Dr 
 workhouse ? " laughed Pennant. 
 
 " Oh ! sir, may I take it to the little girl ? " said Caradoc,
 
 l6 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 addressing the Earl for the first time in his life, who did not, 
 however, deign to reply either to father or son. 
 
 " Of course you may. Mona has a houseful of splendid 
 dolls, and wouldn't care for that drowned rat," said his son 
 instead, whose will was law. 
 
 Lord Penruddock was about Caradoc's age and size, but of 
 very different face. He was fair and delicate-looking, while 
 the young farmer was dark and strong. His manner, although 
 slightly authoritative, was not unpleasant, and he was, at least, 
 more gracious than his father, and managed to meet the eyes 
 of those to whom he spoke. His own were blue, and when 
 he was in a good humour, their expression was lovable, but 
 when he was out of temper — well, perhaps the less said of 
 them the better, as, indeed, of such eyes in general. Had he 
 been less indulged, and not allowed to believe that he could 
 command the world, he would have been a clever, pleasant 
 boy. As it was, all yielded to his slightest nod, and he could 
 command neither the world nor himself. He was fond of 
 Caradoc, showing his affection in a queer, lordly way : now 
 taking him out to fish or hunt with him, anon ordering him 
 to do things at which Caradoc's independent spirit rebelled. 
 Caradoc, or Carad, as he was familiarly called, had all his 
 father's pride, and his hot Welsh blood rose at the slightest 
 indignity, either to himself or his kith and kin. 
 
 " I shall bring Lady Mona to see the little girl," said Lord 
 Penruddock. 
 
 " Why are you abroad so early ? " asked his father. 
 
 " Caradoc Pennant is to show me an eagle's nest, and where 
 the lias fossils lie, while the tide is out," replied the young lord. 
 
 The Earl glanced appealingly at David Pennant, but did 
 not dare to oppose his son. 
 
 " Excuse me, my lord," interrupted the farmer, addressing 
 Lord Penruddock ; "but Carad must come home to breakfast, 
 in order to be ready for school ; and I forbid him to go to the 
 eagle's crag with your lordship. He may risk his own life, but 
 not yours ? "
 
 THE EARL AND THE FARMER. I J 
 
 The faces of the two boys flamed — one with anger, the other 
 with shame. 
 
 " But he shall go ! " cried Lord Penruddock. " Come along, 
 Caradoc, to the eagle's nest." 
 
 " I must not ! But I will show you the fossils this evening ; 
 father won't mind that," rejoined Caradoc. 
 
 Mr. Pennant beckoned his son away, and they returned to 
 the farm, the others to the Castle. 
 
 " I hate that Farmer Pennant," said Lord Penruddock, 
 heartily. 
 
 " So do I ; he is a conceited fool," returned the Earl. 
 
 " Why don't you send him off ? " 
 
 " He has a lease of the estate. I wonder what became oi 
 the wreck last night ? We must send watchers to the beach. 
 They shall not defraud us of our own." 
 
 "Who?— the Pennants?" 
 
 " Possibly. They are all alike. Did you hear a cry?" 
 
 " Why are you always imagining cries by night and day, my 
 lord ? " asked the boy, irritably. " It is only a sea-gull. But, 
 father, I think the Pennants are honest, and I don't really hate 
 them. They are not wreckers. It is those low, mean, cowardly 
 brutes that live down at Monad. I should like to exterminate 
 them. Let's fire a few cannon down upon them from the 
 cliffs." 
 
 A servant in livery appeared with a message. 
 
 " Some fishermen have come up", my lord, to say there is 
 wreckage cast ashore below Ogof Bay, and they are waiting 
 your lordship's orders." 
 
 The Earl's moody face broke into a grim smile. " Tell them 
 I am coming," he said, and hurried up the steep, followed by 
 his son, who muttered, — 
 
 "Wreckage, waifs, strays — I am sick of the words They 
 shall never be used when I am Earl of Craigavon."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FOUNDLING. 
 
 THE sacred drawer in Mrs. Pennant's bedroom was un- 
 locked with trembling fingers ; but that good woman stood 
 long before it ere she pulled it out. When she did so at last, she 
 sank on her knees and burst into tears. " Phoebe, my child ! 
 my darling ! " she cried, looking upwards, as if to explore the 
 heaven where her little one dwelt. Then she rose and turned 
 towards the bed where the foundling lay. The child was still 
 asleep. There was colour on her cheeks and lips, and a slight 
 wave in her fair hair, giving promise of future curls. One 
 chubby little hand lay close to her cheek and mouth on the 
 pillow, which drew from Mrs. Pennant the words — " How 
 strange ! little Phoebe sucked her thumb." This fact seemed 
 to give her courage to return to the drawer. She drew out its 
 contents slowly, one by one, while her tears fell upon them, 
 and her sobs broke the stillness of the chamber. She tried to 
 repress them, however, for the sake of the living child who 
 was to wear the pretty clothing of the dead. There was true 
 pathos in her act and manner. As she touched each tender 
 memorial of the mortal now made immortal, she kissed it, and 
 then laid it reverently on the snowy covering of the chest. 
 One white frock particularly affected her ; but this was re- 
 placed, for it had been the christening frock — that baptismal 
 robe in which, as infant, her child had been marked with the 
 sign of the cross. By degrees she grew calm, and she was sur- 
 prised to feel that the effort she had made had relieved her of 
 a burden that had hung about her for four years— the burden of 
 a suppressed grief. Everything belonging to her little Phoebe
 
 THE FOUNDLING. 19 
 
 had been hidden from her sight, because her friends feared lest 
 the melancholy that seized upon her should end in loss of 
 reason ; and so her mind had preyed upon memory, until all 
 she did had become mechanical. The touch and sight of what 
 had belonged to her child had removed the machine, and laid 
 bare the waters that worked it. In all cases, what is natural 
 is best, and wisdom lies in thinking and speaking of those who 
 have gone before us as if they were still among us — which, 
 virtually, they are, in the " communion of saints." 
 
 A call to breakfast broke in upon her hallowed grief. It 
 was followed by the entrance of Caradoc. He started back 
 at the sight of his mother's tears and his dead sister's clothes. 
 
 " Mother, fach (dear), what are you doing ? " he said. 
 
 " Oh ! Carad, I am better — so much better ! " she sobbed. 
 "It is for the child : they will fit the little orphan." 
 
 Caradoc kissed his mother, and they went together to look 
 at the foundling. 
 
 " How pretty she is ! Look at her dimples ! She is laugh- 
 ing in her sleep ! " he cried, ecstatically, and awoke the little 
 sleeper. 
 
 She glanced from one to the other, inquiringly at first, then 
 with a sort of terror in her blue eyes. The dimples disap- 
 peared, and she began to cry. 
 
 "Mamma! — where is mamma? Ayah, I want mamma," 
 she said, sitting up and looking about her. 
 
 " What does she say ? " asked Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 " She is an English child, and we cannot understand her. I 
 will learn English at once— this very day," answered Caradoc ; 
 '•' I am ashamed that I know so little of it." 
 
 Mrs. Pennant tried to soothe her in Welsh, but the strange 
 tongue startled her. She responded, however, in one still 
 stranger. It was Hindostanee : and the mixture of ancient 
 Eastern and ancient Western speech would have delighted a 
 philologist, but greatly puzzled all the speakers. Caradoc left 
 the room, while the child was crying pitifully for her mamma, 
 and returned bearing her doll. The sight of it brought back
 
 20 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the smiles. She outstretched her little arms, and Caradoc, 
 enveloping the doll in a shawl that lay on the bed, put the 
 damp burden into them. She embraced it, and began to rock 
 it maternally. 
 
 "Go down to breakfast, and send Marget up with the 
 child's," said Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 Marget nearly let fall the tray when she appeared, at the 
 sight of Phoebe's clothes. 
 
 "Name o' goodness, what's all this ? " she exclaimed, looking 
 anxiously at her mistress, whose face reassured her. 
 
 The little girl hid hers behind Mrs. Pennant at the sight of 
 Marget in her short petticoats, tucked-up flannel skirt, and 
 high hat. 
 
 " Bo-peep ! " cried Marget, setting down the tray, and also 
 putting her face behind Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 In after years, when Marget described the scene, she was 
 wont to say, proudly, — 
 
 "The words came to me natural-like, but I never knew 
 where I learnt them, unless it was at the castle." 
 
 She had twice in her life been within the walls of that 
 baronial seat. 
 
 " Bo-peep ! " repeated the child, clapping her hands. 
 
 A new-laid egg, fresh milk, and dainty brown bread and 
 butter, further distracted her from her grief. Mrs. Pennant 
 broke the egg, and was about to feed her, when she lisped, 
 " Daisy tan do it." 
 
 She took the spoon gently from Mrs. Pennant, and began 
 her breakfast with evident appetite, while the kindly women 
 watched her. 
 
 "She eats and drinks like a little lady," said Marget, as the 
 child again politely declined aid, and taking up the cup of 
 warm milk in her chubby hands, drank with avidity. " Go 
 you down, mistress, and show the master how bright you 
 look ; and have your breakfast below, while I stop here. The 
 butter's come, and I'm not in a hurry." 
 
 Mrs. Pennant obeyed meekly, as she had been in the habit
 
 THE FOUNDLING. 21 
 
 of doing during her illness ; indeed, she had been, so to say, 
 almost set aside, while Marget had assumed the reins of 
 government. She found her mankind in earnest conversation; 
 for Caradoc had been detailing how he had seen her sur- 
 rounded by little Phoebe's clothes and in tears. 
 
 " The Lord be praised ! " was old Mr. Pennant's exclama- 
 tion as his daughter-in-law entered the hall. 
 
 Her husband rose from his breakfast to meet her, in order 
 to conceal his own emotion ; for, strange as it may sound, he 
 had prayed for those " tears " by night and by day. He led 
 her to her seat, and began to talk cheerfully. 
 
 " The Earl will have nothing to do with the child, so we 
 must keep her till she's claimed, mother," he said. " His 
 lordship likes the dead better than the living." 
 
 " She is just Phoebe's size, and she sucks her thumb," 
 returned innocent Mrs. Pennant ; and her friends could not 
 have been more delighted had she told them the child was 
 cased in guineas. 
 
 " Moses says the wreck has been cast up, father, and they 
 are busy carrying the things to the Castle," said Michael. 
 
 " Then we shall hear no more of them : the Earl manages 
 to hide his treasures, like a miser that he is ! " rejoined Caradoc. 
 
 " Thou must not speak ill of thy elders and superiors : 
 remember thy catechism," said his grandfather gravely ; and 
 Caradoc was silent. 
 
 The breakfast-table was well supplied. The men had mugs 
 of good ale, or cwrw da, as they called it, the boys basins of 
 steaming porridge, and Mrs. Pennant alone her tea. That 
 beverage was not so universal then as now, and much more 
 expensive. Large rashers of bacon and fried potatoes, oat- 
 meal and wheaten bread, tempting butter, and a cut-and-come- 
 again cheese, were spread on the board, which was covered 
 by a cloth of home-spun damask. In those days the spinning- 
 wheel turned in every farm and cottage, and oh, how long its 
 fabrics lasted ! Home-made linen and woollen became heir- 
 looms, and never wore out.
 
 22 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 "Now to school, boys!" cried the farmer, when Caradoc 
 had wound up his porridge by potatoes and bacon, and the 
 more delicate Michael by bread and butter. But they were 
 stayed in their ready obedience by the entrance of Marget 
 with the little girl in her arms, dressed in Phoebe's best blue 
 frock. She had spread it out before the child, who had shown 
 instant signs of a desire to put it on ; so she had washed and 
 dressed her quickly, and brought her down, feeling instinc- 
 tively that the sooner it was all over the better. 
 
 The child glanced round the hall with a bewildered air. 
 She had her doll in her arms — sole relic of her past. Her 
 bright, fair face and golden hair contrasted with Marget's 
 bronzed cheeks and black hat, and they were a picturesque 
 couple. It may be observed that Marget lived in her tall hat, 
 declaring that she took cold in her head when she left it off. 
 As the inmates of the hall crowded round the child, she began 
 to cry, and hid her face on the woman's shoulder. 
 
 " Mother, why have you dressed her in Phoebe's clothes ? " 
 asked the sensitive Michael with tears in his eyes. 
 
 A sob from Mrs. Pennant was the answer, at the sound of 
 which the little girl looked up. 
 
 " Don't ky," she said, holding out her hands to her new 
 friend, who took her in her arms, bending her head to conceal 
 her emotion. 
 
 " May God bless you both ! " prayed old Mr. Pennant, 
 laying his hand reverently on the head of the twain. 
 
 And so the foundling was adopted at the farm
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THEIR LADYSHIPS. 
 
 LATER in the day, Brynhafod was honoured by a visit 
 from the Countess of Craigavon and her daughter, the 
 Lady Mona Rhys. As this was a rare event, Mrs. Pennant 
 was much disturbed, the more so as they were accompanied 
 by a maid, who acted as interpreter on such occasions, and 
 whom Mrs. Pennant did not like. When she opened the door, 
 she had the little girl by the hand, who accompanied her to 
 the parlour, whither she conducted her visitors, and stood by 
 her, gazing inquisitively, but not rudely, at them. 
 
 " Pray sit down, Mrs. Pennant," said Lady Craigavon, 
 waving her hand towards a seat ; and Mrs. Pennant obeyed 
 the sign mechanically, not understanding the words. 
 
 The Countess was a tall, erect, elegant woman of about five 
 and thirty. She had been, and indeed still was, a beauty. 
 Her complexion was of surpassing delicacy and fairness, her 
 features regular, her figure faultless. But her face lacked ex- 
 pression : the light blue eyes might have been turquoises, the 
 lips a folded pink shell, for any life they possessed. She was 
 always magnificently dressed. On the present occasion she 
 wore a rich blue silk pelisse trimmed with swansdown, and a 
 black velvet hat with a plume of ostrich feathers. The Lady 
 Mona was a pale child dressed in white, with a pink sash and 
 a pink wreath round her broad straw hat. She carried a small 
 white French poodle in her arms, and was altogether a dainty 
 figure. Mrs. Morris, the maid, stood behind her ladies, and 
 looked stiff and sly, in her plain lavender suit. Morris would
 
 24 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 have patronized Mrs. Pennant, but the Pennants would not 
 be patronized either by great or small ; and were wont to 
 declare that they knew their place, and wished to associate 
 neither with my lord nor his lackeys. It was on this account 
 that there were frequent disparaging remarks made of the 
 family of Brynhafod in the housekeeper's room at the Castle. 
 
 "I wish we had this view instead' of our dreary prospect," 
 said the Countess, glancing out of the bow-window, in which 
 she had seated herself. She was always wishing for what she 
 had not. 
 
 The view was indeed beautiful. The farm lay on the crest 
 of one hill and at the foot of another. In front was an old- 
 fashioned garden filled with pinks, polyanthuses, lavender, 
 wallflowers, and other sweet and hardy plants ; while below 
 the garden stretched pasture-land, down-land, and wheat-fields, 
 as far as the cliffs that overhung the sea. It was spring, and 
 all was as fresh and green as Mother Nature could make it. 
 Mountain sheep wandered over the downs, their frisky lambs 
 at their sides, and the cattle grazed peacefully, rejoicing in 
 food and sunshine. The sea, with the red and white cliffs, 
 bounded the horizon, and the blue sky laughed overhead. 
 The music of a brook sounded near at hand, though its waters 
 were not visible from the window. 
 
 "Puff! Puff! Is it Puff?" cried the foundling, suddenly, 
 running from Mrs. Pennant's side to stroke the dog in Lady 
 Mona's arms. 
 
 The creature growled. 
 
 " No — it ain't Puff," she added, turning to Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 " Who are you ? What is your name ? " asked Lady Mona, 
 while the child retreated to Mrs. Pennant, and stood looking 
 steadily from the Countess to her daughter. 
 
 " Have 'ou dot mamma ? " she asked at last. " Where 
 Ayah ? " 
 
 " Come to me, and I will tell you," said the Countess. 
 
 The child, who seemed strangely observant and staid for 
 hei years, went cautiously.
 
 THEIR LADYSHIPS. 25 
 
 " Interpret what she says to Mrs. Pennant, Morris," said 
 her ladyship to the maid. 
 
 " What is your name ? " asked the Countess. 
 
 " Daisy. What is 'our name ? 'Ou 'ike mamma ? " 
 
 " Daisy. Llygad y dydd — the eye of day," grimly translated 
 Morris ; for such is the Welsh of the " wee, modest, crimson- 
 tipped flower." 
 
 " Where is your mamma, little girl?" 
 
 " In the big sip." 
 
 "And your papa? " 
 
 " Pappy far, far away ! " 
 
 The child sighed and pointed across the s?a. 
 
 " Was Ayah your black nurse ? " 
 
 "Ayah dood. I 'ove Ayah." 
 
 She ran tu Mrs. Pennant, and looked at her appealingly, 
 then climbed into her lap and began to cry. 
 
 " Her parents must be gentlefolks, mamma," remarked Lady 
 Mona. " How pretty she is ! She shall come to the Castle." 
 
 " The Earl would object," said Lady Craigavon. 
 
 " His lordship need not know," was the dutiful rejoinder ; 
 and Morris did not interpret this portion of the conversation. 
 
 The Countess and her daughter rarely styled the Earl 
 husband, or father. In truth, they leared, but they did not 
 love him. 
 
 "Tell Mrs. Pennant to let her come and play with me and 
 Miss Manent, Morris," said Lady Mona. " You shall fetch 
 her." 
 
 The little girl nestled closer to Mrs. Pennant, and seemed 
 to look on the visitors as intruders. 
 
 " I on'y do to mamma and Ayah," she said. 
 
 Any resistance always strengthened Lady Mona's will ; and 
 she condescended to rise and take her dog to the child, by 
 way of conciliation. 
 
 " It's name is Blanche, little Daisy, and not Puff." 
 
 "Tank 'ou— pretty Blanche !" said the little girl, politely, 
 stroking the dog. 
 
 \
 
 25 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Lord Penruddock tells me your eldest son is very clever, 
 Mrs. Pennant," said the Countess. " What does your husband 
 mean to make of him ? " 
 
 " A Christian man, I hope, my lady," was the reply, satiri- 
 cally rendered by Morris. 
 
 " Oh ! of course ; I mean as to — to trade, or — or profession." 
 
 "A farmer, I hope, my lady." 
 
 "And the second a harper, I hear ?" pursued the Countess, 
 glancing at a Welsh harp in one corner of the room. " He 
 might replace Blind David at the Castle." 
 
 " I hope he will also be a farmer, my lady. He only 
 amuses himself with music," said Mrs. Pennant, respectfully. 
 
 But Morris translated it with an intonation expressive of 
 offended pride, and the Countess drew herself up haughtily. 
 
 Poor, unconscious, timid Mrs. Pennant nervously stroked 
 Daisy's pretty head. As nothing more was to be extracted 
 from the child, the ladies rose to go. Mrs. Pennant accom- 
 panied them through the garden, and a path skirting the farm- 
 yard, to the road, where their carriage awaited them. Daisy 
 clapped her hands when she saw the horses, and began to 
 talk Hindostanee. Then she ran towards a powdered foot- 
 man, as if expecting a friend, but drew back disappointed at 
 sight of a stranger. The ladies shook hands with her, and 
 nodded to Mrs. Pennant as they got into their carriage, order- 
 ing the coachman to drive to Penruddock — the nearest town. 
 And the four horses picked their way with some difficulty over 
 the rough road that led into the highway — for the Earl and 
 Countess of Craigavon never appeared with less than four 
 horses — while Mrs. Pennant said, thankfully, 
 
 " That is over. They came out of curiosity to see thee, 
 little Llygady dydd"
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A BLACK WAIF. 
 
 THE path by which Caradoc and Michael usually went to 
 school lay over the cliffs and downs. When the tide 
 was out they sometimes walked along the beach, which way, 
 though rather longer, was more interesting to Caradoc, on 
 account of the fossils in the limestone cliffs. He had imbibed 
 a taste for geology from his master, and was making a collec- 
 tion of the ammonites and other curiosities embedded for 
 thousands of years in the lias. 
 
 It was not, however, ammonites that took the boys round 
 the beach on the morning after the storm, but the hope of 
 seeing something of the wreck. Their way lay through the 
 wretched fishing-village of Monad, if, indeed, the half-dozen 
 huts it contained could be called a village. It was aptly named 
 — the word Monad signifying a solitary place. It was lonely 
 enough, and out of sight of all other human habitation. The 
 miserable dwellings were huddled together on the highest 
 point of the beach, which the sea rarely reached, and were 
 mostly amongst the cliffs, that proved effectual shelter from 
 the north-east winds. Neither wind nor sea could carry off 
 the odour of fish and pigstyes that pervaded the spot, or 
 cleanse the fishermen and their families. The spot had a bad 
 reputation, and people avoided it, not only because the in- 
 habitants were said to be wreckers, but on account of many 
 ridiculous stories and superstitions that had probably been 
 promulgated by them to prevent discovery. 
 
 The Earl had, however, done his best to circumvent them 
 by building a watch-tower on a neighbouring height, in which
 
 28 THE PENNANT FAMILY. ■ 
 
 he placed a man to give information of wrecks. Although 
 Monad was out of sight of this Twr Aran, or tower on a 
 lofty place, the immediate beach was visible to it, and thus 
 arose a constant petty warfare between the inhabitants of the 
 tower and Monad. A wretched little public-house stood in 
 the centre of the huts, which purported to give " shelter to 
 man and beast," but which rarely, if ever, was known to take 
 in a shipwrecked mariner. Nothing was ever heard of such 
 as were unfortunate enough to be wrecked near Monad, though 
 the Pennants and other respectable farmers shrewdly suspected 
 some few sailors at least must have been cast ashore alive. 
 
 " What have you got there, Davy Jones ? " exclaimed Cara- 
 doc, as he and Michael reached the bit of sand that lay 
 beneath the beach on which the huts were seated. " The , 
 figure-head of a ship — a blackamoor, I declare ! What will 
 the Earl do with that ? — stick it up among the antlers in the 
 great hall ? " 
 
 This was said to an evil-looking man who was trying to haul 
 the said figure-head up to the beach. 
 
 " I'll be bound the ship was called Cleopatra" continued 
 Caradoc. " I'll ask the master to come down and see it. 
 What else have you got, Davy ? " 
 
 " Nothing, young master. The Earl will be angry enough," 
 replied Davy Jones, scowling at the lads. 
 
 " There's Gwylfa lugging in something for you ! " cried 
 Caradoc. 
 
 The good dog always accompanied his young masters to 
 school, then returned to the farm, and fetched them at the 
 appointed hour. He was with them now, and, having espied 
 a dark object beneath a retreating wave, he dashed after it, 
 followed by one or two men who were hanging about the 
 beach. They all knew Gwylfa, and feared him almost as much 
 as the Earl — for he would surrender no waif save at command 
 of a Pennant. He and the men together brought in a small 
 box, over which he mounted guard until Caradoc and Michael 
 joined him. The men, and half a dozen ragged women and
 
 A BLACK WAIF. 29 
 
 children, who had come forth to see the boys, crowded round 
 the box. Caradoc examined a brass plate that was nailed to 
 the lid, and read the name "Wyndham." 
 
 " Perhaps it belongs to the little girl, Carad," said Michael. 
 
 " Perhaps it does — but she'll never get it," replied Caradoc. 
 " Look ahead, Davy Jones ! There's the Earl, and Lewis the 
 keeper, and goodness knows who besides ! " 
 
 This announcement caused the women to scuffle off" to the 
 huts, and the men to slink away, as the Earl and his followers 
 appeared round a projecting rock. Unfortunately the boys 
 were compelled to pass them. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " growled the suspicious Earl. 
 
 " We are going to school, my lord," said Caradoc. 
 
 " School ! Where ? There's no school. You all lie alike." 
 
 "We go to Mr. Ap Adam, my lord." 
 
 "You all try to rise above your station, you Welsh. Mind 
 you, if you take Lord Penruddock to the eagle's cliff, I'll 
 make the schoolmaster flog you." 
 
 " I shall not take his lordship," said Caradoc, proudly. 
 
 He passed on, followed by Michael, but they lingered until 
 he heard the Earl order his men to carry the chest to the 
 Castle, and sell the figure-head for firewood. They hurried on 
 to make up for lost time, until they reached a ravine between 
 the hills and rocks, down which flowed, or rather dashed, a 
 mountain-stream into the sea. It was called the Aber, or con- 
 fluence. Its banks were beautifully wooded with oak and birch, 
 and there was a picturesque path on one side, up which the 
 boys ran. Aran tower stood on an elevated point of the oppo- 
 site bank. At the top of the ravine, in a lonely nook, was the 
 old church of Llanafon, through the churchyard of which the 
 boys ran, breathless from fear of being late. This church and 
 churchyard were subjects of great interest to Caradoc, who 
 had been initiated into their antiquity by his master. The 
 church had been originally an old British structure, built, it 
 was said, before St. Augustine preached in Britain. It had 
 been added to respectively by Saxon and Norman, and con-
 
 30 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 tained some curious mural paintings, an old Lady Chapel, a 
 Norman font, and some strange tombs. It was dilapidated 
 and damp, and more interesting to the antiquary than to the 
 Lord of the Manor, who neither frequented nor restored it. 
 There was a private chapel attached to the Castle, and the 
 chaplain, who was also vicar of the parish, and tutor to Lord 
 Penruddock, lived at the Castle. 
 
 The Vicarage house was as damp and dilapidated as the 
 church, and tenanted only by rats and mice, until a Mr. Ap 
 Adam appeared on the scene, and, to the surprise of the 
 neighbours, took possession of it. Hither Caradoc and 
 Michael hastened after they had passed though the churchyard. 
 
 The Vicarage was rendered picturesque by its situation and 
 the thick ivy that covered it. In itself it was only a small 
 stone house, containing two parlours, a tiny study, and some 
 four or five bedrooms. But it was backed by hills that were 
 almost mountains — had the cliff, on which stood Aran Tower, 
 on the right, from which it was separated by the dashing waters 
 of the Aber ; downs on the left ; and the sea in front. It 
 stood a little above the church, and outside the dingle that 
 enclosed that sacred edifice. 
 
 The boys opened a rickety wicket-gate ; ran through an 
 untidy garden and a weedy path ; passed beneath an old stone 
 porch in which were two broken seats ; entered a small, brick- 
 flagged hall, where they hung up their caps ; and finally ap- 
 peared, breathless, in the presence of their master, Mr. Ap 
 Adam. When they disappeared within the right-hand parlour, 
 Gwylfa quietly turned tail, and retraced his steps to the beach. 
 
 "We are sorry we are late, sir," said Caradoc, frankly ; "we 
 came round by Monad to see the wreck, and there was the 
 most curious figure-head of a ship you ever saw cast up — a 
 black woman with gold earrings and necklace ; you said Cleo- 
 patra was black, sir. The Earl says it is to be cut up for fire- 
 wood." 
 
 Mr. Ap Adam looked up from a book that lay before him. 
 He was seated at the top of a deal table, at either side of
 
 A BLACK WAIF. 3 I 
 
 which were two forms, each long enough to hold three or four 
 boys. There were three lads on one of them ; the other was 
 empty, until Caradoc and Michael took possession of it. The 
 open window was opposite the master. 
 
 "Cleopatra was not the only black woman in the world, 
 physically or morally, even if she was black, which nobody has 
 positively ascertained," said Mr. Ap Adam. "We know that 
 Antony and other men made fools of themselves on her 
 account, and that we needn't imitate them in that particular. 
 Begin your lessons." 
 
 Mr. Ap Adam was a thin, slight man, with sharp, shrewd 
 features ; he wore spectacles, through which peered a pair of 
 keen black eyes, surmounted by bushy black eyebrows ; he had 
 on a shabby black coat, but his linen was scrupulously clean. 
 All that was known of him was, that he was a scholar and 
 antiquarian, who had visited those parts on account of the 
 rare fossils and curiosities they contained, and had remained, 
 he said, because of the beauty of the neighbourhood. He 
 had fallen in with Caradoc, and, becoming interested in him, 
 had told his father that he ought to educate him. 
 " We have no scholar near us," said Mr. Pennant. 
 " I am what they call a scholar, and therefore poor," re- 
 turned Ap Adam ; " if I could get six boys, who would pay 
 me ten pounds a year apiece, I would turn schoolmaster. The 
 terms are high for the country, but I have a smattering of 
 everything — from Homer to Glendower; from King Arthur to 
 King George ; from the Deluge to the Welsh coal mines. Will 
 you give me your sons, Mr. Pennant, and help me to some 
 more pupils ? " 
 
 " Are you a God-fearing man, sir?" asked the farmer. 
 " I hope so," returned the scholar, reverently, uplifting his 
 hat. 
 
 " Then I will consult my father. What is your name, sir ? " 
 " My name ? Well, one must have a name — what do you 
 think of Ap Adam ? We are all sons of Adam, and the prefix 
 Ap merely states the fact that I am one of them."
 
 32 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " A very respectable name, sir," laughed the farmer. 
 
 " You must take me upon trust. All I can say of myself is 
 that I go to church, and desire to be let alone." 
 
 So, as it happened, did Mr. Pennant ; and, after a few pre- 
 liminaries, and a long conversation between old Mr. Pennant 
 and Ap Adam, Caradoc and Michael went to school. They 
 were the first pupils, but before the year was out, four others 
 were found. Mr. Ap Adam had now been established three 
 years, and people said of him that " there was nothing he 
 didn't know ; and if his scholars had anything in them, he'd 
 be sure to bring it out." 
 
 " I hope they have all had the small-pox, then," he remarked, 
 on hearing this. 
 
 He had lately lost one pupil, which accounted for the vacant 
 place on the form. 
 
 "If you please, sir, I should like to learn English," said 
 Caradoc, suddenly, unable to fix his attention. 
 
 " What next, and why ? " asked the master, peering over his 
 spectacles. " You know enough already for your needs." 
 
 " Because we have a little English girl who was saved by 
 Gwylfa from last night's wreck, and she understands none of 
 us," replied the pupil. 
 
 " Talk English to her. Nothing like conversation to acquire 
 a language. Begin by pointing out visible nouns until you 
 master the English, and make her learn the Welsh of them at 
 the same time. You will thus kill two birds with one shot. 
 Come to me for the connecting links of verbs and pre- 
 positions." 
 
 Caradoc was obliged to be content and to pursue his 
 various studies. Finding him unusually clever, the master did 
 not spare him, but taught him many things that the little world 
 around them deemed unnecessary. Mr. Pennant, however, 
 was well pleased that his son should be better informed than 
 himself, although he was not deficient. 
 
 After the morning school was over, the boys went home to 
 dinner, and Mr. Ap Adam wandered down to Monad, and for
 
 A BLACK WAIF. 33 
 
 a few shillings purchased the figure-head, which the fishermen 
 managed to convey to his house. One of the inmates of Aran 
 Tower descended from his height to watch proceedings, but 
 understanding that the Earl had ordered the black lady to be 
 chopped up for firewood, he pocketed Ap Adam's silver and 
 let him have it. Ap Adam, as a virtuoso, had a. fancy for 
 keeping it, reflecting that, as sculptors had been known to fall 
 in love with the statues they had executed, it was just possible 
 that he might expend some of his hidden fire on this, his 
 Cleopatra; for, black as it was, the figure-head was remarkably 
 handsome. He accordingly placed it in an empty room and 
 locked it up. 
 
 But he carefully examined such weekly newspapers as 
 reached him, in the hope of seeing something of a lost 
 "Cleopatra," and even sent an advertisement to a local paper 
 concerning it under a feigned name. In those days there was 
 no cheap literature, and penny newspapers had not been even 
 imagined, so Ap Adam, as well as his neighbours, was obliged 
 to be content with The Welsh Chronicle once a week, and such 
 information as it contained. None reached them of the ill- 
 fated vessel in question, or, indeed, of any others wrecked on 
 the same notorious coast. 
 
 Ap Adam had barely time to swallow his frugal meal of 
 bread and cheese before his boys returned for their afternoon 
 lessons. 
 
 " We have begun, sir ! " exclaimed breathless Caradoc, who 
 arrived first. 
 
 "What? A lighthouse on the Esgair?" asked Ap Adam, 
 whose digestion had been impeded by thoughts of wrecks. 
 
 "No, sir, but English and Welsh. Daisy — her name is 
 Daisy, sir — has told me the names for everything we had at 
 dinner ; I have learnt most of them ; but " 
 
 " She won't say the Welsh, sir," interrupted Michael. " She 
 is as obstinate as a pig." 
 
 "That is just what the English say of the Welsh, my lad, 
 when they answer them with a Dim Saesoneg — 'no English.' 
 
 D
 
 34 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 They say you are as obstinate as pigs, because, when language 
 was confounded at Bel or Babel, your ancestors and theirs 
 wandered different ways, and, in course of generations, a very 
 unpronounceable guttural was transmitted to this part of the 
 world. A fine language all the same, and certainly old, if that 
 is an advantage. There is a Welsh and English dictionary and 
 grammar on the shelf, Caradoc, that you may take to help you ; 
 and if you like to bring the child here sometimes, I will talk to 
 her, and so keep up her English." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. She is the most beautiful little girl you 
 ever saw in your life," replied the boy. 
 
 Ap Adam smiled, and Caradoc wondered why his face 
 became suddenly serious and sad. 
 
 After lessons, the boys returned home over the cliffs. They 
 were, as usual, accompanied by Gwylfa. They were met 
 suddenly by Lord Penruddock. 
 
 " Now, Pennant, show me the eagle's nest," began his 
 lordship. " I have no time to lose, for I have escaped from 
 Mr. Tudor, and he will be as cross as cross keys." 
 
 " I am very sorry, my lord, but my father has forbidden me,'' 
 replied Caradoc. 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! I heard him ; but you must come all the 
 same." 
 
 " I promised the Earl, also, this very morning," urged 
 Caradoc. 
 
 "It is no business of the Earl's. I say you shall come — now 
 — at once ! " 
 
 Lord Penruddock went a few steps towards a beetling cliff 
 that overhung the others, on the summit of which was the 
 eagle's nest, already visited by Caradoc ; but the young 
 Pennants did not stir. He returned, and seizing Caradoc by 
 the sleeve, tried to drag him up the slope. Gwylfa was upon 
 him at once, and, reckless of nobility, had him by the leg. 
 
 " Down, Gwylfa ! Off, sir ! Are you not ashamed?" cried 
 Caradoc, shaking himself loose from Lord Penruddock's grasp, 
 and threatening the dog with his fist.
 
 A BLACK WAIF. 35 
 
 " You vile brute ! I don't know which is worse, you or 
 your master ! " exclaimed Lord Penruddock, rubbing the calf 
 of his leg, while Gwylfa growled at him. " But I am your 
 master, and I order you to come with me," he added to 
 Caradoc. 
 
 He was pale with rage, and in part with terror ; for he had 
 felt Gwylfa's teeth. 
 
 " I cannot go with you, my lord," said Caradoc, decidedly. 
 " My own father and your father have forbidden me." 
 
 " Then I will push your brother over the cliff, and tell the 
 Earl you set your dog upon me," said his lordship, moving 
 towards Michael, who shrank to Caradoc for protection. 
 
 They were not far from the edge of the cliff, and Caradoc 
 saw that the boy was in earnest. He had barely time to place 
 himself between his brother and the precipice before the 
 threatened push was given. It recoiled on the giver, and, but 
 for Caradoc, Lord Penruddock might himself have been over. 
 Caradoc saw the danger at the onset, and, while grasping 
 Michael firmly with one hand, seized the infuriated lad with 
 the other, crying to Gwylfa, "Hold him —hold him fast!" 
 The dog obeyed ; and between them they checked the impetus 
 of the movement. It was a moment of imminent danger to 
 all. 
 
 " Run home quickly, Michael ! " gasped Caradoc, impelling 
 his brother upwards, and dragging their enemy from the brink 
 of the cliff. " Let go, Gwylfa," to the dog. 
 
 "I shall not leave thee, Carad," replied Michael, stoutly; 
 and Gwylfa loosed the boy he helped to save. 
 
 Caradoc did not let go, however, until they were safe on the 
 down, amongst the furze-bushes. Then he said, as calmly as 
 he could, but with a touch of irony, " I have set the dog upon 
 you to some purpose, my lord. He has saved your life. Let 
 us thank God for it ! " 
 
 The young Pennants had been taught to give praise to the 
 Lord for all His mercies ; and following, not only this teaching, 
 but a natural impulse, Caradoc clasped his hands, and added
 
 36 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 aloud, "We thank Thee, O Lord, for protecting us from 
 danger, and pray Thee to forgive us our evil tempers, for 
 Christ's sake. Amen." 
 
 Lord Penruddock looked on— angry, terrified, surprised, 
 and, perhaps, ashamed. He was imperious and passionate, 
 but not altogether bad. Gwylfa also looked on, as if he under- 
 stood the whole proceeding. It was, however, quite new to 
 Lord Penruddock ; for although his tutor's precepts were good, 
 the examples set at the Castle were bad. Something in his 
 face attracted Michael, who was too young quite to understand 
 their difference of position. He crept up to him, and fixing 
 his soft, lustrous eyes upon him, said, appealingly, " Make 
 friends with Carad, my lord. I know you didn't mean to push 
 me over — I don't mind." 
 
 Lord Penruddock's face softened for a moment, and he 
 hesitated. But pride overcame the transient better feeling, 
 and he exclaimed, haughtily, "Friends! What next? Insolent 
 farmers ! I will be revenged for this. You shall not defy the 
 Earl of Craigavon's son for nothing ! " 
 
 "Come away, Michael. There is Mr. Tudor, my lord," 
 said Caradoc, his proud spirit rising at these words : and so 
 the lads separated.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DAISY AT THE CASTLE. 
 
 IT was Saturday afternoon, and a half-holiday, when the 
 next visit was paid by an inmate of the Castle to the farm. 
 Caradoc was seated near the big hall-table, with Daisy on his 
 knee. He had Mr. Ap Adam's Welsh and English dictionary 
 and grammar outspread before him, and was resolutely trying 
 to master the English language by their help and Daisy's 
 lisping words. The child was already beginning to talk Welsh, 
 as children will any language, if they have quick ears, and 
 want to make themselves understood. Her eager speech 
 became a strange medley of Welsh, English, and Hindostanee ; 
 but Caradoc patiently puzzled over which was which, until he 
 separated the parts in some measure. 
 
 Daisy was apparently much troubled by her desire to please 
 Caradoc on the one hand, and to listen to Michael, who was 
 strumming out a Welsh air on his harp, on the other. Not 
 even her doll, which she held in her arms, kept her little head 
 still. It turned incessantly from side to side, and while 
 Caradoc was poring over his dictionary and questioning her 
 simultaneously, her rosy lips began to purse up as if indicative 
 of a cry. 
 
 At this juncture Mrs. Pennant brought in Miss Morris. 
 That amiable abigail had come with royal authority to take 
 Daisy to the Castle to see Lady Mona. 
 
 " Dear me, Mrs. Pennant, your suns are monstrous clever!" 
 she remarked, on perceiving the one boy at his books, and the 
 other at his harp. " Too clever by half for farm-w^rk, I should 
 say." 
 
 '7
 
 38 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Mrs. Pennant, who was proud of them, smiled acquiescently, 
 not detecting her visitor's irony. Caradoc rose and put Daisy 
 from his knee, while Michael ceased his musical attempts. 
 
 " I am only trying to learn English, ma'am," said Caradoc. 
 " How glad you must be to be able to speak it so well ! " 
 
 Morris was flattered. Her English was her one accomplish- 
 ment. 
 
 " I have always lived with the quality," she returned. " My 
 lady has sent me to fetch the little girl because I have Eng- 
 lish ;" then, stooping over Daisy, she added, "You must come 
 with me now, child." 
 
 Daisy looked at her wistfully ; then put her arms round 
 Caradoc, saying, — 
 
 " Daisy not do away." 
 
 " She must come, Mrs. Pennant. My lady's orders are not 
 to be disobeyed," said Morris, drawing herself up. 
 
 "Certainly, Miss Morris. I should desire to do what her 
 ladyship wishes. Carad, you had better take her as far as you 
 can," replied Mrs. Pennant. " I will put on her best things. 
 Come with mother, little Daisy." 
 
 The child had already learnt from the boys to call the good 
 woman by that tender word, and understood enough to leave 
 the room with her. 
 
 " If you would be so good as to tell her in English that we 
 are going for a walk to see the great house, I think she would 
 come," said Caradoc to Morris. 
 
 " We, Caradoc ! I did not bring an invitation for you," she 
 remarked, superciliously. 
 
 The boy's face flushed as he replied, proudly, — 
 
 " I did not think of going beyond the great gates, though 
 my Lord Penruddock has asked me more than once." 
 
 When Daisy returned she came dancing in, attired in the 
 best blue frock, clean white trousers, a white tippet, and white 
 quilted jean sun-bonnet. Her doll, from which she would not 
 be separated, was in her arms ; and, to Marget's supreme 
 delight and astonishment, she had arranged it Welsh fashion—
 
 DAISY AT THE CASTLE. 39 
 
 twisting an old plaid scarf cross-wise round it and her own tiny 
 person. 
 
 " There's clever she is ! " Marget had said, with uplifted 
 eyes. " She has only seen Matty and her baby twice, and she 
 carries her doll just the same." 
 
 "It is Phoebe her own self!" exclaimed Michael, as she 
 entered, followed by his mother. 
 
 Daisy made no difficulty in accompanying Morris when led 
 by Caradoc. The road, as Farmer Pennant said, was detest- 
 able, and at times overflowed by the riotous brook that ran 
 alongside of it ; but Caradoc took the child in his arms when 
 they reached the stoniest part, and also carried her across the 
 narrow bridge which spanned the brook. Morris picked her 
 way daintily, wondering why Mr. Pennant did not keep his 
 roads in better order. 
 
 " That is the Earl's work," said Caradoc. 
 
 They finally reached the road which led directly to the 
 Castle. This ran along the middle of the promontory, and was 
 bordered by such hardy trees as would bear the exposed posi- 
 tion. The ground was irregular, and, owing to its rocky base, 
 unproductive ; still it was green, and dotted at that season with 
 bluebells and primroses. Midway the promontory another 
 road branched off from the main drive, which led to the part 
 of the Castle occupied by the servants. Morris took this way, 
 so that if Caradoc had desired to go as far as the great gate, 
 once a portcullis, he would have been disappointed. The 
 principal drive was badly kept enough, but the side road was 
 worse, being rutty, grass-grown, and stony. Daisy, however, 
 ran along the sward on either side of it, gathering flowers at 
 every step. 
 
 She was suddenly arrested by an imperative "Who are you? 
 — what are you about ? " which sent her to Caradoc. 
 
 "It is only the little girl from Brynhafod, my lord. Lady 
 Mona has sent for her,'' said Morris. 
 
 The questioner was Lord Penruddock, who followed Daisy. 
 Caradoc had been for the moment hidden by the rising ground,
 
 40 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 and when his lordship met him face to face, he flushed to the 
 temples. Caradoc's colour also came as he raised his cap. 
 Both were sore about the encounter on the cliff, and they had 
 not met since. Lord Penruddock turned to Daisy without 
 speaking to Caradoc. 
 
 "Were you the child washed up by the sea?'' he asked, 
 touching the scarf that enfolded her doll. 
 
 She glanced shyly at him from beneath the sun-bonnet ; 
 then, clinging to Caradoc, said, — 
 
 "Naughty boy sail not have my dolly." 
 
 " I will if I like, and you also ; waifs belong to the Earl," 
 he cried. " But we don't want you. Take her to Lady Mona, 
 Morris ; Pennant shall come with me." 
 
 Morris would have obeyed, but the child clung to Caradoc. 
 
 " May I take her to the door, my lord ? " he asked. 
 
 Lord Penruddock did not condescend to answer ; so Morris 
 beckoned him on, and they soon reached the postern leading 
 to the servants' offices. 
 
 Meanwhile his young lordship dawdled on behind. He was 
 in no amiable mood, for he felt that his will had been resisted 
 successfully by an inferior, and he had been pondering the 
 possibility of still subduing Caradoc. 
 
 The huge dark towers of the Castle frowned above the 
 battlemented wall in which was the side entrance to the court, 
 surrounded by buildings, whither Morris was bound. This 
 was the inhabited side of the Castle, which stood, as has been 
 said, a hundred feet above the sea, over rocks and caves. Ton 
 Bay lay beneath, and ocean all around. When the heavy, 
 nailed, arched door slowly opened, Morris said to Daisy, who 
 was still holding Caradoc's hand, — 
 
 "Now come and see Puff." 
 
 The word was magical. 
 
 "Where Puff?" she asked. "Tome, Tarad." 
 
 " He shall come and fetch you," returned Morris, grimly ; 
 and, catching the child up, she swung back the door and 
 hurried across the court, leaving the two boys without.
 
 DAISY AT THE CASTLE. 41 
 
 Daisy began to cry ; but Morris proceeded towards a round 
 tower, through a curious doorway, across a large hall, up a 
 spiral staircase, and finally along a corridor which looked upon 
 the sea, to what was called the Lady Mona's apartments. 
 These were in another tower, adjoining the Countess's private 
 rooms, and apart from the Earl's. 
 
 Daisy found herself at last in a moderate-sized and some- 
 what shabbily furnished sitting-room, or schoolroom, as it was 
 usually called. Everything in it was old, even to the lesson- 
 books used by Lady Mona ; for the Earl was slow to renew, 
 excusing himself upon two pleas — that of the poverty of his 
 Earldom, and his dislike to breaking up old associations, or, 
 rather, modernising the antique. In this room sat Lady Mona, 
 and her governess, Miss Manent, both expecting Daisy with 
 some impatience ; for the excitement of a visit of any kind 
 was better than none, and their lives were extremely dull. 
 
 " There is Puff," said Morris, as she put down the frightened 
 child near the French poodle, asleep on Lady Mona's lap. 
 " She is a peevish, disagreeable thing, your ladyship," she 
 added, as Lady Mona began to talk to Daisy. 
 
 "Puff! Puff!" said Daisy, drying her eyes, and stroking the 
 silky-white fur of the ill-tempered poodle. 
 
 Miss Manent rose from the high, straight, carved chair on 
 which she sat, and knelt down by Daisy. 
 
 " You darling ! " she exclaimed, putting her arms round her 
 and kissing her. 
 
 "How can you kiss her? She comes from a farm," said 
 Lady Mona, who was not quite sure whether, after all, it had 
 been wise to send for her. 
 
 Miss Manent had come to the Castle when she was seven- 
 teen, and Lady Mona six, as a sort of nursery governess, and 
 had so far improved herself during four long, solitary years, 
 that she maintained her position, and seemed likely to continue 
 to hold it. The truth was that she had never dared to ask for 
 an increase of salary, and the poor Earl knew that a fresh 
 governess would demand higher terms; so when the Countess
 
 42 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 suggested that Lady Mona required more accomplishments, he 
 said he disliked change, and begged that Miss Manent might 
 remain for the present, for she really did very well. And Miss 
 Manent, being an orphan, and well-nigh friendless, remained. 
 She was quiet, unassuming, and ladylike. Although not pretty, 
 her face was interesting from its pensive expression and exceed- 
 ing paleness. Not even Lady Mona could tell what were her 
 temper and character ; for she maintained, not only a rigid 
 reserve, but a self-control so perfect that her ladyship's pro- 
 voking and imperious manners failed, apparently, to irritate 
 her. She had taken to music and reading more in self-defence 
 against her lonely life than because she was particularly 
 talented ; and finding amongst the worm-eaten books of the 
 old library many volumes of poems, she had ventured to ask 
 permission to read them, and received consent. She did her 
 duty by the Lady Mona according to her lights, and they were 
 not brilliant, but the pupil had, as a rule, more control over the 
 mistress than the mistress over the pupil. Hers was truly a 
 solitary, if not a miserable, existence, and it is no wonder, 
 therefore, that she threw her arms round Daisy instinctively, 
 and exclaimed, " You darling ! " Daisy, in return, put her 
 disengaged arm round her neck, and her cherry lips to hers. 
 The child-kiss was new to her, and her heart throbbed with a 
 strange emotion. She had never, during their intercourse, 
 ventured to kiss Lady Mona — who was, by nature, indifferent 
 to that mode of displaying tenderness. 
 
 " Come with me and Morris, Daisy, and let us take off your 
 bonnet," said Lady Mona. 
 
 "And Puff?" asked the child. 
 
 " Yes : but her name is Blanche," replied Lady Mona. 
 
 Daisy looked at Miss Manent, and by childish word and 
 gesture asked her to accompany them ; but Lady Mona nega- 
 tived this at once. Daisy went reluctantly into the next room, 
 which was Lady Mona's boudoir. Here she was instantly well 
 amused, for it was filled with ornaments, dolls, and playthings. 
 The furniture was old and shabby; but as Lady Mona had,
 
 DAISY AT THE CASTLE. 43 
 
 during her brief life, received and kept everything she could 
 get, and never made a present in return, she had a goodly 
 show of gifts. A wonderful house full of dolls, induced Daisy 
 to unfold her sea-worn infant, and display her charms, after 
 which Morris easily removed the bonnet and tippet. 
 
 " What is this ? " asked Lady Mona, whose curiosity was 
 insatiable, and who espied the gold chain, and immediately 
 drew the locket, suspended by it, from beneath the frock, 
 where it was partially hidden. 
 
 "Papa — Mamma," lisped Daisy, pointing to the locks of 
 hair. 
 
 " I never saw anything so beautiful, Morris," remarked Lady 
 Mona, examining it. " I have nothing like it. Pearls and 
 diamonds, and the richest gold. I think it is meant for a 
 wreath of daisies." 
 
 " Not open," said the child, as the young lady tried to 
 unclose it. 
 
 " What a handsome clasp ! " remarked Morris, peering into 
 the fastening at the back, and fingering it inquisitively. 
 
 " It is handsome. I wish the Earl would give me such a 
 one," said Lady Mona. 
 
 " Daisy mustn't dive it," lisped the child. 
 
 When they had sufficiently examined the locket, Morris took 
 her departure, and Lady Mona displayed her possessions to 
 Daisy. Then the Countess appeared in the schoolroom, and 
 called them in. 
 
 " You must not keep her long, Mona. The Earl will be 
 back to dinner, and may be early, as he expects some gentle- 
 men. I wish, when he asks people, he would tell one sooner. 
 My pink satin is not ready, and nothing becomes me so well." 
 
 Then her ladyship began to question Daisy ; but all her 
 inquiries resulted in a vague account of soldiers and palan- 
 quins, and elephants. It was evident that Daisy remembered 
 nothing of the wreck, and the Countess was of opinion that 
 she must have been washed from her hammock into the sea. 
 She still believed that her mother and Ayah had gone away 111
 
 44 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the big ship ; and the pretty lips pursed up at the recollection, 
 at which Miss Manent, quite impulsively for her, took her on 
 her lap. 
 
 " Pray don't let her cry, Miss Manent," said the Countess. 
 " Mona, you had better be dressed, in case the Earl should 
 desire you to come down. Morris must not go away. I wish 
 you had not sent for the child to-day. How perplexing things 
 are ! Perhaps, Miss Manent, you would kindly take her back 
 to the farm." 
 
 " With pleasure, my lady," replied Miss Manent. 
 
 "But the Earl must not see her. Mona, ring for cake, 
 and let her go at once. Now don't pout; she shall come 
 again whenever you like ; and you know you must be 
 dressed. I think your blue silk is most becoming." 
 
 The Countess was an artist in dress. Daisy listened 
 intently to this conversation, while Miss Manent, half un- 
 consciously, examined the locket so much admired by Lady 
 Mona and Morris. 
 
 When Daisy was satiated with cake, Morris was called to 
 dress her, and Lady Mona accompanied them to her boudoir. 
 
 "I wish Mona had not taken this fancy for the child," 
 said the Countess, when they were gone. " But you will 
 understand, Miss Manent, that Lord Craigavon is to know 
 nothing about it. Perhaps you had better get ready." 
 
 In less than a quarter of an hour, the governess and Daisy 
 were outside the frowning walls of the Castle; the one breath- 
 ing freely, the other chattering glibly. They were met at 
 the door of Brynhafod by Mrs. Pennant, who was anxiously 
 expecting both Daisy and Caradoc. 
 
 "Mam!" cried the child; and, forgetful even of her doll, 
 sprang into the good woman's arms. 
 
 Miss Manent, who had never been at the farm before, 
 could not resist her signal to enter and rest a few minutes 
 in the cheerful parlour. Cake and mead — or metheglyn, as 
 Mrs. Pennant called it — were instantly on the table, and 
 Miss Manent's pale, passive face flushed into life at the
 
 DAISY AT THE CASTLE. 45 
 
 unexpected hospitality. She little knew that she — inmate of 
 Craigavon Castle — was an object of pity at the farm. She 
 dared not stay long, but making a desperate attempt at a 
 Welsh phrase, drank the mead, kissed Daisy devoutly, shook 
 hands with Mrs. Pennant, and left light for darkness. But the 
 glimpse of sunshine made her, ever after, ready to fetch the 
 child from Brynhafod, or take her back again. 
 
 When Mrs. Pennant was putting Daisy to bed, and trying 
 to understand her account of her visit, she suddenly exclaimed 
 in Welsh, " The locket ! Where is the locket?" 
 
 Chain and locket had disappeared. There was at once 
 a great commotion in the household, for everyone knew 
 how valuable the ornament was in itself, and would be in 
 case of a possible discovery of the child's friends. Daisy tried 
 to explain that Morris and Lady Mona had examined it, but 
 no one understood her. Mrs. Pennant and Marget had both 
 sought to find the secret of the clasp that fastened the chain, 
 and failed, so that it had not been off the little girl's neck 
 while at the farm. 
 
 Michael and little Ben were sent to search for it ; and there 
 was a general outcry for Caradoc, who, contrary to his custom, 
 had not come in to early supper. 
 
 " When he comes we will send him to the Castle," said 
 Farmer Pennant. " We must put a stop to his wanderings 
 after what he calls his antediluvian fooleries. The stones 
 named in the Bible are old enough, but Ap Adam would try 
 to make one believe in older still." 
 
 " How wicked ! You must take the boys away from him ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Pennant, wandering out into the sunset to 
 '•ook for Caradoc, while the others sought the locket and chain.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TUTOR AND GOVERNESS. 
 
 SOON after Miss Manent left Brynhafod, she was met by 
 Mr. Tudor. That gentleman was in search of Lord 
 Penruddock. He paused to speak to Miss Manent, who was 
 almost a stranger to him, although they lived in the same 
 Castle. His and Lord Penruddock's apartments were in a 
 different part of the huge, gloomy pile from Lady Mona's ; 
 so the governess and he dwelt apart. He was in the habit 
 of joining the Earl and Countess and their guests at will ; but 
 Miss Manent never appeared in the family-circle — if so dis- 
 united a party could be called a circle. 
 
 Mr. Tudor was the son of a late steward of Lord Craig- 
 avon's ; therefore, like every one else, under his lordship's 
 power and patronage. His father died soon after he had 
 taken orders, and the Earl appointed him his chaplain and 
 his son's tutor, promising him the living of Craigavon when 
 vacant. His lordship also proposed to hold the stewardship 
 in abeyance for his younger brother, provided he and his 
 mother would undertake it meanwhile. This offer was too 
 good to be refused, so, when the living fell in, Mr. Tudor 
 found himself vicar, chaplain, tutor, and virtually steward. He 
 also still found himself at the Castle, the Earl promising to 
 restore the Vicarage when Lord Penruddock went to school 
 or college. 
 
 Mr. Tudor had had his aspirations, and they certainly had 
 not tended towards the posts he now filled ; but he was, like 
 
 many others, obliged to circumscribe them when it became a 
 
 4 6
 
 TUTOR AND GOVERNESS. 47 
 
 question of daily bread. He was anxious to do his duty by his 
 pupil and in his parish, but even here his desires were curbed 
 by a power that proved stronger than he : for the Earl would 
 not allow his son to be controlled, and himself controlled the 
 Vicar's parishioners. This cast a restraint over a naturally 
 buoyant temperament, and interfered sadly with an upright 
 man's desire to do what was his decided duty. 
 
 " I do not think I ever met you alone before, Miss Manent," 
 he said, after he had inquired if she had seen Lord Penruddock. 
 
 She coloured slightly, but made no reply. She was afraid to 
 tell him of the visit of Daisy to the Castle. 
 
 " My mother has often expressed a desire to know you," he 
 continued, kindly. " Should you ever have the opportunity, I 
 wish you would go and see her." 
 
 " I wish I could ; but perhaps the Countess would not 
 like it," returned Miss Manent, surprised into speech by so 
 unexpected a proposal. 
 
 " It does not do to be too submissive," he remarked, 
 smiling as he remembered how difficult he found it to break 
 the chain himself. "The Countess and Lady Mona are 
 often absent, and then you might surely go out occasionally." 
 
 " I think I should be afraid," said the nervous girl. 
 
 " I cannot imagine where Penruddock is," said Mr. Tudor, 
 abruptly, surprised at the grateful glance he received from 
 eyes whose dark depths had seemed to him unfathomable. 
 " He takes advantage of the Earl's absence to escape from 
 me. Not long ago I found him with the young Pennants 
 on the cliffs, and he has been trying to elude me ever since. 
 Have you remarked that he is unusually moody and irritable 
 of late, Miss Manent ? " 
 
 " I seldom speak to him," she replied. 
 
 " I only wish I dared to use the birch : reasoning is 
 thrown away," he said, becoming suddenly confidential. 
 " He will be ruined ; and yet he is not without good 
 qualities. It would be a grand work, Miss Manent, to 
 bring up those children to good and useful purpose. When
 
 48 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 I think that Penruddock will be the next Earl, and will 
 have almost kingly power over these lands and people, it 
 humbles me to consider how little I can do !" 
 
 Miss Manent had never viewed the matter in this light. 
 She had only striven to get through her days without a 
 battle, and had gone to rest contented when she had suc- 
 ceeded. She sighed as she said, — 
 
 " Nothing will improve Lady Mona : she is always the 
 same;" then checking herself in terror at having said so 
 much, she added, " I mean, I have not sufficient authority 
 — or — I — am afraid." 
 
 Mr. Tudor looked at her with pity. He had never seen 
 any one so nervous and so terrified. 
 
 "Have you no one?" he began, and hesitated. 
 
 " Only the Countess and Lady Mona," she replied, her 
 eyes on the ground — her voice trembling. 
 
 " Poor girl ! " he exclaimed, holding out his hand, into 
 which she put hers timidly, glancing round lest any one 
 should see the act. " At any rate, consider me both as your 
 pastor and friend." 
 
 They shook hands and went their ways — he to consider 
 how much more desolate her lot was than his, she to reflect 
 on the possibility of doing more than she had hitherto done 
 to make of her pupil the "good and useful woman" Mr 
 Tudor had suggested. 
 
 That gentleman roamed about for some time in a fruitless 
 search for Lord Penruddock. At last he reached Monad — 
 a part of his parish that he dreaded. Neither preaching 
 nor teaching had any effect on its wretched inhabitants, and 
 he believed that nothing but stringent measures on the part 
 of the Earl would put a stop to their horrible practice of 
 wrecking,, credited by the scattered inhabitants of Craigavon, 
 yet never proved. 
 
 " Plave you seen Lord Penruddock?" he called out to a 
 woman who was standing at the door of the beer-shop. 
 
 " He was here just now, with Cradoc Pennant, Brynha-
 
 TUTOR AND GOVERNESS. 49 
 
 fod. I saw them go round the point. Be you sure, sir, 
 that Cradoc will lead my lord into mischief." 
 
 " If we were all as likely to do what is right as the family 
 of Brynhafod, we should be better than we are," replied the 
 parson, with more zeal than prudence. " Why don't you 
 come to church, Nan ? " 
 
 " Lord bless you, we've none of us clothes fit to sit with 
 the gentry. We are going to chapel sometimes." 
 
 " You are nearer the church ; and God looks at the heart, 
 not the garments. Pray to Him to cleanse the heart, and 
 you will forget your clothes — indeed, He will provide better 
 for you," said Mr. Tudor, sharply. 
 
 " Prove that, and I'll pray directly," replied Nan, impudently. 
 
 A ragged crowd gathered round her as she spoke, and 
 Mr. Tudor felt that he ought not to let the opportunity of 
 addressing this portion of his flock slip by. He spoke to 
 them earnestly of their duty to God and man, but was inter- 
 rupted in his discourse by the surly voice of Davy Jones 
 from behind. 
 
 " Let God and the Earl do their duty to us first," were 
 his words. 
 
 " We stand or fall according to our own acts and deeds," 
 said Mr. Tudor, turning on the man, whom everybody feared. 
 
 "Then look to your own, master," was the sullen reply. 
 "We don't want no parsons nor preaching here. When 
 you can build us fresh houses, you may come again. I saw 
 the young Earl and Pennant's son up the cliffs just now." 
 
 Mr. Tudor, feeling he had delayed too long, hurried 
 round the point. 
 
 " If he is with Caradoc Pennant, he is at least safe," he 
 muttered. "But am I safe? Am I justified in undertaking 
 to see after him from morning to night, whilst these godless 
 souls are committed to my keeping?" 
 
 Pondering this all-important point, he hastened up the 
 
 Aber defile. He was met midway by Ap Adam, whom he 
 
 asked if he had seen Lord Penruddock. 
 
 i.
 
 50 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 "I met him just now hurrying homeward over the cliffs,' 1 
 was the reply. 
 
 "And Caradoc Pennant?" 
 
 " No : he was not with him." 
 
 Mr. Tudor took the way across the cliffs to the Castle, 
 and arrived too late for dinner. Lord Penruddock was 
 home before him, and in time. He always dined with his 
 parents, and was, therefore, with them. 
 
 A servant came to say that Mr. David Pennant insisted 
 on seeing Mr. Tudor immediately. 
 
 "He asked first for Mrs. Morris," said the man, "and 
 she went to him. Then he inquired for Lord Penruddock, 
 or you, sir. He seemed much excited, so I thought it best 
 to come to you." 
 
 " Right, Williams. Should the Earl inquire for me, say I 
 have been delayed. Where is Mr. Pennant ? " 
 
 " In the housekeeper's room, sir." 
 
 " Show him into mine, if you please." 
 
 Mr. Tudor went down to an apartment on the basement, 
 fitted up as a kind of grim study. It was large, dark, and 
 tapestried; and the two wax candles which had been lighted 
 for Mr. Pennant, scarcely rendered him visible. 
 
 " Excuse my disturbing you, Mr. Tudor," began the farmer 
 at once, "my boy, Carad, accompanied the little foundling and 
 Miss Morris as far as the servants' entrance this afternoon. 
 Miss Morris says she took the child to Lady Mona, and left 
 Carad outside with Lord Penruddock. The child lost a 
 valuable chain and locket either in this Castle or on the way 
 to it, of which Miss Morris says she knows nothing. But this 
 does not bring me here. Carad has not returned home ; and 
 as he is a punctual, obedient lad, his mother is making herself 
 ill about him. She expected him back as soon as he had 
 dropped the child here." 
 
 " I will inquire of Lord Penruddock when he leaves the 
 dining-room. He cannot be long. Davy Jones, the fisher- 
 man of Monad, told me he saw Caradoc on the cliffs with
 
 TUTOR AND GOVERNESS. 5 I 
 
 Lord Penruddock. He is probably at home by this time, and 
 you have missed him." 
 
 "If he has gone to the eagle's cliff!" ejaculated Mr. 
 Pennant, with clenched teeth, " But he never disobeyed me 
 in his life, bold and wild as he is ! " 
 
 While the farmer and tutor awaited Lord Penruddock, we 
 must return to the time when the two boys were left together 
 without the postern gate.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ARAN TOWER. 
 
 " PHOW me the fossils in the limestone rock at Carreg 
 O Mawr," said the imperious Penruddock to Caradoc, 
 when the postern closed upon them. 
 
 Caradoc reflected a moment. His father had never for- 
 bidden him to do this, and it was safe. He did not like the 
 expression of his companion's face, still he replied, un- 
 hesitatingly, 
 
 " Very well, my lord." 
 
 Much to Caradoc's satisfaction, Lord Penruddock took him 
 down to Ton Bay by the private path, which he had never 
 before trodden. Neither of them spoke a word. They 
 struggled over the rough beach, until they reached a particular 
 spot, known to Caradoc as backed by rocks containing fossils. 
 He took a small hammer from his pocket, and began to chip 
 the lias. 
 
 "This is the best place, my lord," he said. "But we must 
 climb for the fossils. Mr. Ap Adam says this is carboniferous 
 limestone folded in lias." 
 
 " He is a stupid ass ! " was Lord Penruddock's gracious reply. 
 
 However, he condescended to climb the rock, and watch 
 Caradoc, until he produced a broken fossil or two. 
 
 " A piece of an old snail-shell ! A stone caterpillar ! " he 
 cried, contemptuously. "Is that all? But I have made you 
 get them. Now I will give you this guinea to show me the 
 eagle's nest." 
 
 He drew out the gold coin then in general circulation, value 
 twenty-one shillings, and laid it on a piece of rock.
 
 ■ W 
 
 ^*=%, 
 
 "Now, I will give you this guinea to show me the eagle's nest." 
 
 \Page 52.
 
 ARAN TOWER. 53 
 
 " Do you think, my lord, I would do for gold what I would 
 not do because my father forbade me ? " asked Caradoc, in- 
 dignantly. "We are not to be bought and sold like the 
 peasantry." 
 
 " The Earl is your master as well as theirs. I shall be your 
 master some day," replied Lord Penruddock," fiercely. 
 
 " Then I hope you will do your duty by your servants," 
 said Caradoc, forgetting, for a moment, his habitual respect ; 
 but adding, half reverently, half satirically, " One is our 
 Master ; even Christ." 
 
 " What canting hypocrites you Pennants are ! What did 
 you mean by saying your prayers on the cliff the other day ? " 
 asked the young lord. 
 
 " I meant to give thanks to God for saving your lordship's 
 and Michael's life," answered Caradoc, gravely. 
 
 Lord Penruddock turned aside, and was silent a moment. 
 
 " Come with me to Aran Tower. It is higher than the 
 eagle's cliff ! " he then exclaimed, imperiously. 
 
 Caradoc smiled ; for he had penetration enough to perceive 
 that the boy was resolved to conquer somehow. He had 
 never been forbidden to mount the height on which the tower 
 stood — though the spot had a bad name — so he immediately 
 acquiesced in the request. He had, besides, a great desire 
 to see the interior of the tower, and thought it possible Lord 
 Penruddock might penetrate it. 
 
 " You have left the guinea, my lord," he said, as they 
 scrambled down the rock. 
 
 " What is that to you ? Take it, and do what I ask," 
 returned Penruddock. 
 
 Caradoc saw that the evil spirit was in the lad, so he led the 
 way in silence, and the gold was left on the ledge of the rock. 
 He wondered whether some future antiquarian, centuries 
 hence, would find it and speculate upon it. 
 
 They were more than half an hour reaching the tower, for 
 the beach was rough and the ascent difficult. Lord Pen- 
 1 uddock did not vouchsafe a word during their progress ; but
 
 54 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 his face worked strangely. It was an expressive countenance, 
 and capable, at times, of inspiring love and admiration : but 
 Caradoc had defied him, as he thought, and he was bent on 
 vengeance. 
 
 Aran Tower had been built, by the present Earl, on the 
 highest available point of land commanding the sea ; but no 
 one, save the Earl and the people who kept the tower, ever 
 entered it, and none knew its secrets. All that was ascer- 
 tained was that it enabled its inmates to give his lordship 
 information concerning wrecks. How none could tell. 
 
 "What a prospect it is I" exclaimed Caradoc involuntarily, 
 when he and his moody companion stood breathless on the 
 height. 
 
 " We will go in," said Lord Penruddock, hammering at the 
 huge knocker of the massive door, and shouting, " Open the 
 door, Evan ! Evan the Tower ! " 
 
 A face peeped through the loophole at the side, and soon 
 after the door was opened. 
 
 "Bless me! is it you, my lord? — and Master Pennant?" 
 said a voice that no effort at civility could render other than 
 sharp, harsh, and querulous. 
 
 The speaker was a tall, loose-limbed, ungainly man, with 
 a wary, cunning face. He had been the Earl's gamekeeper, 
 but was maimed in one arm, and blinded in one eye, in an 
 affray with poachers; so he was pensioned in a way peculiar 
 to the Earl — who generally managed to make his pensioners 
 pay. He had the onerous duty of looking after the tower and 
 reporting the wrecks. 
 
 "Yes, it is I," said Lord Penruddock. "Let us in, Evan." 
 
 Evan glanced suspiciously at Caradoc. 
 
 " My wife is ill, my lord," he began, cautiously. 
 
 " We will prescribe for her," replied Lord Penruddoc k, 
 who could make himself pleasant to his inferiors when it 
 pleased him. 
 
 He slipped into the tower and beckoned Caradoc after him. 
 Evan remonstrated in a whisper.
 
 ARAN TOWER. 55 
 
 ■' The Earl will have no one come in here, my lord." 
 
 "Let him in, and I will explain," was the reply, also 
 whispered. 
 
 Caradoc was admitted, and found himself in a darkish 
 kitchen, in which was a woman languidly turning a spinning- 
 wheel, two or three dogs, and a cat. The room contained a 
 large cupboard-bedstead, several heavy chests, a corner-cup- 
 board with the customary amount of crockery and glass, a 
 settle, and some chairs and tables. Caradoc went straight to 
 the woman and shook hands with her. She had once been 
 a servant of his grandmother's, and the Pennants never neg- 
 lected an old friend. She was even taller and more ungainly 
 than her husband, with sharp, dark eyes, and a sharp, thin 
 face. Her cap-strings were loose, and her iron-grey hair un- 
 tidy ; but she wore a red and yellow handkerchief pinned over 
 her head, which helped to conceal such defects. 
 
 " When are you coming to Brynhafod, Betto? Mother was 
 asking about you the other day," said Caradoc, cheerfully. 
 
 " I am too ill to stir — an A 'tis good for the blind to see you 
 here," replied Betto. " How is old master, and your blessed 
 mother, and Marget? And what's the rights of the child 
 you've got at the farm ? And is Michael as sickly as he 
 was ? " 
 
 While Caradoc was answering these questions Lord Pen- 
 ruddock beckoned Evan out again. 
 
 " I'll give you a guinea, Evan, to keep Caradoc Pennant 
 here for some hours," said his lordship. " Give him a fright. 
 He is an insolent fool ! The guinea is on the Carreg Mawr, 
 where I left it just now. I'll make all right with the Earl; 
 but you must go at once, or some one may steal the gold. 
 Let's lock him in, then I shall have my revenge, and be master 
 again." 
 
 He went into the little passage, drew the great key from the 
 door, and returning, placed it in the keyhole outside. He was 
 not strong enough to turn it. 
 
 '• Lock it," he said, imperatively.
 
 56 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Are you sure the guinea is on Carreg Mawr, my lord ? 
 ft would be a pity to throw it away." 
 
 "Positive. Lock him in; it will be rare fun." 
 
 The key turned, and the boy's face broke into smiles. 
 
 Caradoc heard a grating noise, and looked up. 
 
 " What's Evan locking the door for, I wonder ? " said Betto. 
 
 Caradoc went to see, and returned to her, laughing. 
 
 "Lord Penruddock is playing me a trick," he said. "I 
 understand now why he has brought me here." 
 
 " Tis a horrible place, my dear," said Betto, shuddering. 
 " I see the fairies all in green, and worse, on my deed ! You 
 had better look out and call Evan." 
 
 Caradoc opened a well-barred casement, and shouted for 
 Evan and Lord Penruddock ; but no one answered. Then he 
 tried the door to see if it was really locked, and found that 
 this only place of ingress and egress was assuredly closed. 
 
 " I shall go upstairs, Betto ! " shouted Caradoc. 
 
 " Don't, Cradoc, bach! Evan will kill me !" shouted back 
 the woman ; but the boy had mounted half a dozen steps of 
 the circular staircase, and did not hear. 
 
 Betto was lamed by rheumatism, and could not follow. 
 
 " I will not be locked in for nothing," muttered Caradoc, as 
 he ascended the hundreds of steps that wound round and 
 round the tower, pausing here and there to glance through an 
 occasional loophole. There were no windows, but he fancied 
 there must be small rooms in the centre, as he perceived a 
 door now and again, opposite these slits. He reached the top 
 at last, and was surprised to find himself in a sort of observa- 
 tory, glazed overhead, and with windows between the battle- 
 ments. 
 
 " It is here my lord sits, then, when he is hidden for hours 
 in the tower," he thought. 
 
 Two or three telescopes were so arranged as to enable an 
 observer to scan the horizon and nearer points, and Caradoc 
 lost no time in making use of them. He was a shrewd boy, 
 and soon understood why they were so placed. There were
 
 ARAN TOWER. 57 
 
 two vessels in the offing, and to his surprise he saw the 
 sailors at work on them. Moving the telescope, he exclaimed 
 aloud, — 
 
 " Why, that is a barrel — that a broken mast ; and with the 
 naked eye nothing is visible ! " 
 
 He went from telescope to telescope, until he made it 
 clear to himself that every dangerous point and the whole line 
 of rough, broken coast, could be, so to say, brought so near 
 as to apprise the Earl or his myrmidon of whatever happened 
 on the sea. 
 
 " This is how they circumvent the wreckers, and know 
 where their ill-gotten gains lie. I wish I could circumvent 
 them. A light at the end of the Esgair would do it, by warning 
 off the ships. Why doesn't the Earl put one ? Not he. He 
 likes the wreckage too well, the old miser ! At least, my Lord 
 Penruddock is open-handed. I could set a light there, for 
 I've often climbed to the very end." 
 
 The Esgair was a rocky cape, stretching far into the sea, out 
 of sight of either castle or village. It lay near the quicksands, 
 so that a lighthouse, or other warning at its extremity, might, 
 as it occurred to Caradoc by a sort of inspiration, warn off a 
 doomed vessel. 
 
 The boy became so interested in exploring the wonders of 
 ocean and sky that he forgot everything else. The words 
 " Millstone Grit — Pudding-Stone — Farewell Rock," and the 
 like, escaped him, as he surveyed the rock-bound coast ; and 
 when, suddenly, the moon and her attendant star appeared 
 from behind one of these fortresses of nature, he turned the 
 telescope upon her, and was lost in amazement. As the stars 
 came out, one by one, he continued his investigations, and 
 would probably have been at them until midnight, had he not 
 been startled by a deep, severe voice, and turning, encountered 
 —the Earl of Craigavon!
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BROKEN LEG. 
 
 WE must return for a few minutes to the Castle before 
 we recount what passed between the Earl and Caradoc. 
 When Lord Penruddock left the dining-room, a little before 
 his father and his guests, he was met by Mr. Tudor, who 
 requested him to accompany him to Mr. Pennant. The boy 
 looked restive, but had no time to refuse. 
 
 " I am come to ask you where you left Caradoc, my lord ? " 
 said the farmer, in his straightforward, decided manner. 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " I must know, for he has not returned home since Mrs. 
 Morris left him with your lordship. You are therefore in a 
 way responsible for him," continued Mr. Pennant. 
 
 " I ! He defies me, and knows how to take care of himself," 
 said Lord Penruddock, avoiding the farmer's eye. 
 
 "That evasion will not do, my lord. Where did you leave 
 my son ? His mother, who is just recovering from a long 
 illness, is very anxious about him, and so am I. I must know 
 the exact truth." 
 
 " Then I left him in Aran Tower ; and I am glad I punished 
 you all for not letting him show me the eagle's nest," replied 
 the young lord, with an assumption of superiority not quite 
 natural. 
 
 "In Aran Tower! How did you get him there?" asked 
 Mr. Tudor. 
 
 " Evan the Tower locked him in with old Betto while we 
 
 went in search of a guinea I left on Carreg Mawr I am glad 
 
 53
 
 THE BROKEN LEG. 59 
 
 I frightened you, Farmer Pennant. You won't interfere with 
 me again." 
 
 "The trick was unworthy of you, my lord," said the farmer, 
 surprised and relieved. " What if anything has happened to 
 Evan, and he has not returned ? " 
 
 This had not occurred to Lord Penruddock, and he was 
 alarmed at the notion. 
 
 "The Earl has another key," he replied, haughtily. 
 
 Mr. Tudor left the room, and waylaid the Earl as he was 
 leaving the dining-room. He told him hastily the facts ol the 
 case. 
 
 "Locked in the tower ! Caradoc Pennant! Evan absent ! 
 a guinea on Carreg Mawr ! " exclaimed his lordship, startled 
 out of his customary reserve. " A guinea ! Where did Pen- 
 ruddock get a guinea ? " 
 
 That magic word affected the nobleman as much as the 
 keeper. Gold is the open sesame to many lips as well as hearts. 
 
 " I did not know he had one," replied Mr. Tudor. 
 
 " A guinea ! Do people sow guineas ? Be so good as to 
 make my excuses to my friends ; say sudden business has 
 occurred. Send Pennant home, and say I am going myself to 
 the tower. Order some of my people to go round by Carreg 
 Mawr in search of Evan." 
 
 " I am afraid the tide is in, my lord." 
 
 " Never mind the tide. A guinea ! " 
 
 And this guinea — not Caradoc Pennant or Evan the Tower 
 — led Lord Craigavon to take a moonlit ride up a rough 
 mountain road to Aran Tower. 
 
 When he unlocked the heavy door he was startled by a 
 shriek from Betto. 
 
 " Evan ! Evan ! I thought you were dead ! Cradoc has 
 gone upstairs, and never come down again ! " she cried. 
 
 "It is not Evan," said Lord Craigavon. " Lend me your 
 candle." 
 
 He took a rushlight from the table, on which Betto had 
 outspread her Bible. She had been seeking relief from terror
 
 Go THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 in that sacred volume. She had not only a profound rever- 
 ence for its contents— acquired during her life at Brynhafocl, — 
 but a superstitious belief that harm would not reach her while 
 the Book was near. 
 
 "Oh ! my lord Earl— bless me ! your lordship. Evan went 
 to the Castle with my young lord. I'm crippled from the 
 rheurnatiz, your lordship, and am falling when I try to move. 
 That Cradoc Pennant's so bold he 'on't be listening to nobody, 
 my lord." 
 
 But the Earl and rushlight had disappeared within the 
 tower staircase, and re-appeared, as we have read, beneath the 
 stars at the summit. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" he said harshly, as he saw 
 Caradoc gazing at the heavens through his most powerful 
 telescope. "Thief !— robber !" he added, when he perceived 
 that the boy was so absorbed as to be unconscious of his 
 presence. 
 
 It was at these words that Caradoc turned and faced the 
 Earl of Craigavon. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? — serf, villain, thief, scoundrel ! " 
 repeated his lordship, who stood, rushlight in hand, close to 
 Caradoc. 
 
 " I am waiting to be let out, my lord," replied the lad. 
 
 " What brought you here ? " 
 
 " Lord Penruddock." 
 
 " Were you with him at Carreg Mawr?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " Had he a guinea, boy— a guinea ? What did he do with 
 if" 
 
 " He left it on the big stone, my lord." 
 
 " Where is Evan ? " 
 
 " I have neither seen him nor Lord Penruddock since they 
 locked me up here." 
 
 " What business had you with my son? " 
 
 " He bade me show him the fossils in the lias, and I obeyed, 
 my lord ; then he brought me on here."
 
 THE BROKEN LEG. 6l 
 
 Lord Craigavon glanced for a moment at the fearless boy. 
 He knew that he was telling the truth. The face of the moon, 
 that looked down on the half-glazed, battlemented tower, was 
 not more clear. 
 
 " How dared you come up here ? " 
 
 " I was curious to see the top of the tower, my lord." 
 
 " What right had you to stay and pry into my affairs ? I 
 will have you committed as a thief." 
 
 "I have stolen nothing, my lord. I looked through the 
 glasses at the rocks and the sea ; and then I looked to see 
 how shipwrecks might be avoided ; and then " 
 
 " What ! " interrupted the Earl, in a voice that startled 
 Caradoc. 
 
 " I forgot everything else, my lord — even the anxiety of my 
 parents — in the moon and stars. How wonderful they are ! 
 How great are the works of God ! " 
 
 The boy had indeed been carried beyond this world and 
 himself, in wonder and in awe at the revelations of the 
 telescope. Lord Craigavon's anger was arrested for a moment 
 by the reverence of his manner ; then he resumed : 
 
 " I beg you will mention to no one this boyish trick of my 
 son, neither that you have been in this place." 
 
 " I have no secrets from my parents, my lord." 
 
 " Your father knows already. I request that the matter go 
 no further." 
 
 " Very well, my lord." 
 
 The Earl pointed to the stairs, and Caradoc passed him and 
 began the descent. But for the moonbeams, that penetrated 
 at intervals the loopholes, he would have been in total dark- 
 ness. The Earl, by the light of his rushlight, closed and locked 
 a door, that had been by chance open, leading to his observa- 
 tory, and followed. When Caradoc reached the bottom with 
 some difficulty, he heard voices in the kitchen, and went thither. 
 So did the Earl, when he had locked another door at the end 
 of the staircase. Evan would have been dismissed summarily 
 for neglect of duty, but for the scene that awaited them.
 
 62 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Evan was lying on the bed, nearly insensible; Betto was 
 swaying herself to and fro in her chair, and sobbing violently; 
 while Farmer Pennant and Mr. Ap Adam were binding up 
 Evan's leg, which seemed to be broken. 
 
 It will be remembered that Mr. Tudor met Ap Adam in the 
 Aber Ravine. The latter gentleman was going on a private 
 geological survey of the cliffs about Carreg Mawr, and when 
 he reached the big stone on which the guinea had been left, he 
 found Evan lying beneath it. That worthy had managed to 
 climb the rocks and secure the guinea; but in grasping the 
 gold with his only useful arm he had slipped, and either 
 broken or disabled his leg. He could not move, and was in 
 awful terror ; for the tide, though still far out, was coming in 
 fast, and, but for Ap Adam's arrival, he must have been 
 drowned. Evan was a tall, bony man, Mr. Ap Adam slight, 
 and not particularly muscular. More help was needed to 
 move him, and none was at hand. 
 
 " For heaven's sake don't leave me, sir ! Til try to walk ! " 
 cried Evan. 
 
 Ap Adam helped him to rise ; but walking was out of the 
 question ; his agony was intolerable. 
 
 "Try to drag yourself to the Aber, where you will be, at 
 least, safe from the tide," said Ap Adam, taking hold of his 
 arm to aid him. 
 
 Fear paralyzes pain, and dread of drowning overmastered 
 Evan's. The yawning, though happily at that time, quiet sea, 
 was longing to engulf him, stayed only by His hand who ruled it. 
 
 " Don't leave me, sir ! For the Lord's sake, don't leave me ! 
 I'm not ready to die ! " cried Evan. 
 
 " Not as long as there is a chance of saving you," replied 
 Ap Adam. "The wreckers give the waves tithes enough in 
 human flesh without making your poor body a tenth." 
 
 " Lord have mercy upon me ! " shrieked Evan. 
 
 Ap Adam scarcely believed it possible to reach the pass in 
 time, and looked about for some other means of escape — but 
 there was none ! As the distant sea grew nearer, he askH
 
 THE BROKEN LEG. 6$ 
 
 himself if he could leave this fellow-creature to perish, even to 
 save his own life ? But of what use to sacrifice both ? He 
 prayed earnestly for help, and laboured on. But he never 
 forgot the supreme moment. They were within sight of the 
 defile, when Evan's strength failed, and he nearly fainted. The 
 spray of the waves had already touched his face. Must he 
 leave this man to secure his own life ? ■ 
 
 "Give me strength, O God ! " he exclaimed, and clasped his 
 arms round Evan's waist as he lay on the beach. 
 
 Dragging him over the rough stones, while the sea almost 
 touched them, he reached the point where the river-brook 
 flowed into it. But how get to the path at its side ? He 
 shouted for help, and was answered. His prayer and the 
 ejaculations of poor Betto over her Bible were heard. Gvvylfa 
 appeared. He growled as he seized Evan's coat, for he knew 
 the man and hated him ; but the dog is too noble an animal to 
 let his enemy perish, so he helped Ap Adam to drag him 
 ashore, then left him to rejoin Mr. Pennant, who was descend- 
 ing the cliff to the pass. 
 
 The moon had risen — the "young May moon" — and, trust- 
 ing to her light and Gwylfa's sagacity, the farmer had ventured 
 across the cliffs by the short but dangerous path that led from 
 the Castle to the Aber, and thence across the stream to the 
 Tower. While the Earl was taking the longer round on horse- 
 back, the farmer had started on foot, and, but for stumbling 
 upon Ap Adam and Evan, would have reached the tower 
 before his lordship. 
 
 "What's this? Another waif?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "It is Evan the Tower," replied Ap Adam. "I don't think 
 he's dead, because 'those who are born to be hanged will never 
 be drowned ' ; but I believe he has broken his leg. You must 
 help me to carry him across the stream and up the Aran." 
 
 " It will be doing good for evil, then. The fellow has locked 
 Carad into the tower," said Mr. Pennant. " Take the rogue 
 by the feet, and I'll lay hold of his body." 
 
 To Mr. Pennant, who could lift a sack of wheat, Evan was
 
 64 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 comparatively light weight, so they managed to get him to the 
 tower in about half an hour, by which period the Earl had 
 arrived, and joined Caradoc. But the great door was locked. 
 
 " Here is the key," said Ap Adam, drawing it from Evan's 
 pocket. 
 
 Fortunately the Earl had withdrawn his key from the lock, 
 so they opened the door. 
 
 " Don't be frightened, Betto. Evan has had a cold bath," 
 said Mr. Pennant, kindly, as they carried her husband to 
 the bed. 
 
 Poor Betto shrieked with terror. 
 
 " I am somewhat of a doctor, and have often set broken 
 bones," remarked Ap Adam, coolly unfastening the keeper's 
 knee-breeches and drawing down his stockings. 
 
 It was at this juncture that Caradoc entered the kitchen, and 
 was greeted by Gwylfa with those demonstrations of joy that 
 dogs alone display to ungrateful man. 
 
 " Why is the door open ? " asked the moody Earl ; while 
 Caradoc ran to his father, and said — 
 
 " It was not my fault. I hope mother is not frightened. 
 What has happened to Evan ? Here is the Earl. Don't 
 cry, Betto." 
 
 Lord Craigavon went to the bed instinctively, and, seeing 
 Evan's state, asked "what the careless fool had been doing 
 now?" He was told. He again left the kitchen, closing the 
 door behind him, and a grating of keys was heard. He 
 returned with a bottle in his hand containing spirits. They 
 administered some, and Evan revived. Meanwhile, Ap Adam 
 quietly bandaged the leg, taking no notice of the Earl, who 
 turned to Pennant with — " You had better take your boy 
 home, and on your way tell Lewis, the keeper, and his wife 
 to come here. I shall stay till they arrive. Go, young sir, 
 and keep out of Lord Penruddock's way for the future," he 
 continued, facing Caradoc, but not meeting his eye. 
 
 Ap Adam remained, and Mr. Pennant and Caradoc departed. 
 They took the mountain-road homewards, and soon readied
 
 THE BROKEN LEG. 6$ 
 
 one of the lodges, occupied by the keeper mentioned by the 
 Earl. They sent him and his wife to the tower, as requested, 
 then made all haste to reach the farm. A messenger, sent by 
 the farmer from the Castle, had already apprised the inmates 
 of Caradoc's safety, who was welcomed by them, as may be 
 imagined, with tears of joy. 
 
 " Now let us praise the Lord for the mercies that He showeth 
 to us children of men," said Old Farmer Pennant ; and the 
 whole family knelt in prayer. "Thou trustest too much in 
 thine own strength, my son," he said to Caradoc, when they 
 rose. "Put thy trust in the Lord, and be doing good, and 
 verily thou shalt be fed." 
 
 "I will try, grandfather," replied the boy, meekly. 
 
 "Say rather that thou wilt pray, my lad," returned the old 
 man, laying his hand on Caradoc's head. 
 
 "May I go with you and see Daisy, mother?" whispered 
 Caradoc, and followed Mrs. Pennant to the foundling's crib, 
 now placed by her bedside. 
 
 Here he kissed the sleeping child, and heard of the loss of 
 the diamond locket.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ap adam's sixth boy. 
 
 WHEN Mr. Pennant and Caradoc had left the tower, the 
 Earl stooped over Evan and whispered — not so low, 
 however, but that Ap Adam's sharp ears caught the words — 
 
 " Did you find the guinea ? " 
 
 "N — o; y — e — s; n— o, ray lord," replied Evan. 
 
 " You — did ! It — is — mine ! Give — it — to — me ! " breathed 
 the Earl, sternly, emphasising every word. 
 
 Evan tried to put his hand in his pocket, and failed. The 
 Earl inserted his successfully, and secured the coveted coin. 
 
 " I will not answer for the consequences if you excite the 
 man, my lord," broke out Ap Adam, resolutely. 
 
 " Who are you ? " asked the Earl, turning suddenly, and 
 meeting the supposed doctor's spectacles. " I thought you 
 were Dr. James." 
 
 In his anxiety about the gold, the Earl had only taken in the 
 fact that some one was, as he imagined, setting Evan's broken 
 leg ; and he took it for granted that it was the parish doctor, 
 who was old and deaf. He had not paused to consider that it 
 would have been impossible to summon him in so short a time ; 
 and had thus over-reached himself. 
 
 " I am a parish doctor, but not the one, par excellence" 
 replied Ap Adam, satirically. 
 
 " Then we have no further need of you, sir," replied the 
 Earl. " We are obliged for your aid, but will send for Dr. 
 James at once." 
 
 " Me had better not meddle with the bandages; nothing but
 
 AP ADAM'S SIXTH BOY. 67 
 
 a splint is needed. Keep up your spirits, man, and you will 
 do," said Ap Adam. 
 
 "For the Lord's sake don't leave him, sir !" shrieked Betto, 
 throwing up the apron with which she had covered her face, 
 and nearly knocking down her spinning-wheel. 
 
 Evan also looked at him appealingly ; the very dogs whined. 
 
 "The Lord of Craigavon is omnipotent here," replied Ap 
 Adam, bowing to the Earl, and leaving the room. 
 
 But the great door was locked ; and his lordship was obliged 
 to turn porter. 
 
 " Thank you. Good-night, my lord," said Ap Adam, laugh- 
 ing to himself in the moonlight. 
 
 " Good-night. Curse the impudent fellow !" retorted the Earl, 
 glancing after him as he hurried down the rocks to the gorge. 
 
 He soon met Lewis and his wife, and begged them to assure 
 Dr. James that the bone was properly set ; then he walked 
 slowly towards the vicarage, his temporary home. 
 
 "The thirst for gold is as absorbing as the thrist for alcohol, 
 and leads to crimes as great," he muttered, as he seated himself 
 at a table, on which was spread a repast of bread and cheese, 
 salad, and cold water. " Better poverty than sin." 
 
 " A middle-aged woman, with a cheery round red face, 
 came into the room. It was the wife of the parish clerk, 
 who was engaged by Ap Adam to do lor him such cooking 
 and cleaning as he could not manage himself. She lived near 
 the church, and was able to come to and fro at pleasure." 
 
 " Can I do anything more for you, sir ? '*' she asked. 
 
 "You have already exceeded our agreement," he replied, 
 glancing at the table, which he usually laid himself. " But 
 exceed it still further by finding out for me to-morrow, from 
 Dr. James, or Lewis, the keeper, or Mrs. Lewis, how Evan the 
 Tower gets on. He has broken his leg." 
 
 Ap Adam knew that, if any one would discover a secret, it 
 was Mrs. Madoc, the clerk, his valuable and voluble aid. She 
 had tried hard for the best part of four years to discover his, 
 and had frequently nearly got the better of his strategy by all
 
 68 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 sorts of ambushes. If he had a secret, however, he believed 
 it as yet in his own keeping. 
 
 " I'm sure I shall be very happy, sir ; but that Lewis is as 
 close as an oyster, and my lord keeps Evan closer still, if pos- 
 sible, as it isn't his nature to be so secret. But Lisbeth, the 
 keeper, is open-mouthed enough." 
 
 " I dare say she will tell you. Good night, Mrs. Madoc." 
 
 The following morning, after a breakfast as frugal as his 
 supper, which he prepared himself, Ap Adam went to his 
 school-room. He was surprised to see a little girl seated 
 between Caradoc and Michael, who had arrived before the 
 other boys. 
 
 "It is Daisy, sir, the little foundling. She asked to come 
 with us, and mother let her," said Michael, not usually the first 
 to speak ; but Caradoc was engaged with the child. 
 
 Ap Adam spoke to her in English. He asked her if she 
 was come to school, and, from her serious, composed manner, 
 saw at once that she knew what school meant. The child was 
 naturally self-possessed, and said, in answer to a question put 
 by Ap Adam, — 
 
 " Daisy tan read and pell." 
 
 A mist came over the schoolmaster's spectacles as he gazed 
 at the little waif, and he suddenly left the room. He returned, 
 however, immediately, with a child's first primer in his hand. 
 He went behind Daisy, and, kneeling down, inserted his head 
 between her and Caradoc, and laid the book before her. He 
 told her to read, and she began at once steadily and clearly, 
 though with her pretty lisps, to read the short lesson. 
 
 " She must be older than she looks. Indian climate," he 
 muttered. 
 
 Then he asked her to spell, and found that she had already 
 mastered most one-syllabled words. 
 
 When the spelling ended she began of herself, "Twice one 
 is two;" and, having completed her arithmetic, she hastily got 
 off her seat, put her hands behind her, and repeated, " How 
 doth the little busy bee."
 
 AP ADAM'S SIXTH BOY. 69 
 
 " Dr. Watts himself was scarcely more precocious ! " ex- 
 claimed the delighted Ap Adam, catching her up in his arms. 
 " Carad, we will make a man of her — or a Lady Jane Grey,— 
 and teach her Greek and Latin. She shall be my sixth boy." 
 
 And henceforth it was understood that Daisy was to receive 
 from Mr. Ap Adam such an education as that gentleman 
 thought it expedient to give her. On this, the occasion of her 
 inauguration, she behaved well, and, when the other pupils 
 arrived, was already learning a spelling lesson. Neither their 
 smothered laughter nor whispered questions across the table 
 could distract her from her task; and it was not until Ap 
 Adam came down on the offenders with his cane that she 
 looked up, and, seeing that ferule, shrank towards Caradoc for 
 protection, while Michael took her hand on the other side. 
 
 " Daisy tan say it now," she said, in an unusually short time, 
 fixing her dark blue eyes on Ap Adam ; and she repeated her 
 lesson faultlessly. 
 
 "Poor innocent! Her mother must have taught her," 
 ejaculated Ap Adam, in Welsh " After all, women are not 
 born fools; it is want of education that makes them so." 
 And, upon this reflection, he called Daisy to him, took her on 
 his knee, and began to teach her Latin — which tends to show 
 that, if he was not born a fool, he certainly was not born 
 a schoolmaster. 
 
 As the morning wore on she showed signs of weariness, in 
 spite of her efforts at self-control. Caradoc, first asking leave, 
 took her to the low window-seat, and, producing her doll, 
 together with a slice of bread and butter, left her there. She 
 amused herself until twelve o'clock struck and lessons were done. 
 
 " She must be an only child, and accustomed to be without 
 companions," mused Ap Adam. 
 
 All the boys surrounded her, and she shrank from the 
 strangers, who were rough specimens of their genus. Mr. Ap 
 Adam sent them off, and Caradoc seized the opportunity, as 
 he always did, of a few words with his master. 
 
 ' There is a sort of bell-tower at the end of the Esgair, sir,
 
 JO THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 in which one might hang a light to save many a ship," he 
 began. "That point stretches farther out than any other, and 
 if only there could be a beacon !" 
 
 "If! You romance, sir; keep within the region of the 
 possible. Who could hang lights in such places?" responded 
 Ap Adam. 
 
 " I could, sir." 
 
 " At the risk of your neck, and discovery by the wreckers." 
 
 "They would think it supernatural, sir; and, besides, it 
 would not be seen from the shore." 
 
 "And the Earl? and Evan the Tower?" 
 
 " One must brave something, sir, to do good." 
 
 " Very Utopian ; what next ? " 
 
 " I should like to be a doctor, like you. It is grand to save 
 life and ease suffering. If mother would consent to my 
 leaving home, I think father would. Will you use your 
 influence, sir?" 
 
 "To apprentice you to old James, and have you taught to 
 make calomel pills and black draughts? I would rather see 
 you turn the sod and write verses. You had better go 
 home and eat your dinner. Good-bye, little Daisy ; come 
 again to-morrow." 
 
 Caradoc's fine face clouded at this rebuff; but he was not 
 daunted. He did not, however, hear his master's soliloquy 
 when he and his companions were gone. 
 
 " This is what I have done ! Taught until I have made 
 him discontented with his lot ; explored until he would dare 
 the most slippery precipices. I, who have fled from the 
 world, sick of its temptations. I must undo my work, or 
 seek refuge elsewhere." 
 
 Education seemed the topic of conversation at Craigavon 
 that day. We hear of "a wave of crime," why not "a wave 
 of learning"? It certainly flowed over farm and vicarage to 
 " the Castle. The Earl even was overtaken by it, and was 
 discussing the momentous subjects of public school and 
 college with Mr. Tudor.
 
 AP ADAM'S SIXTH BOY. 7 1 
 
 "When a young nobleman condescends to play tricks on 
 his inferiors, and scatters gold like sea- shells, it is time to send 
 him from home," he said. " I can ill afford it, but Penruddock 
 must go to Eton. You will need your vicarage, so I shall 
 eject that fellow Ap Adam, who is a mere adventurer; and 
 the parish will be well rid of him, for he is only educating 
 the farmers' sons beyond their need. Young Pennant will be 
 ruined." 
 
 " I think your lordship is right to send Lord Penruddock to 
 school," said Mr. Tudor, cautiously ; " it will do him good 
 to associate with boys of his own rank. It may be also well 
 for me to give my time to the parish, and to live in the midst 
 of my flock." 
 
 " If I send him to Eton, I shall not be able to afford to do 
 up the vicarage at present,'' rejoined the Earl. "You will be 
 obliged to take it as it stands, or to get up a subscription 
 amongst the people for repairs. Let those who go to church 
 take care of it, and pay the parson. You will continue to act 
 as my chaplain, and perhaps had better live here." 
 
 Before Mr. Tudor could utter either a protest or opinion, 
 the Earl walked away. Such was his habit when he had 
 finished what he had to say ; and that was a bold man who 
 dared to begin again a subject he considered concluded. 
 
 The Earl went straight to the Countess to tell her of his 
 resolution concerning their son. He found her and Lady 
 Mona in a quaint boudoir, the walls of which were hung with 
 tapestry, representing shepherds and shepherdesses in a variety 
 of costumes, and the ceiling of which was painted with similar 
 pastoral figures. The room was bright, though the furniture 
 was heavy and antique. There was a beautiful oriel window 
 that looked through a vista of trees to Ogof Bay ; and this view 
 was the least wild of any seen from the Castle. As if there 
 were not embroidery enough already within the old fortress, 
 the Countess was working more. Her face and figure looked 
 singularly young and graceful as she bent over her frame, 
 which was placed in the oriel. Her daughter was on a low
 
 72 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 stool, with a French lesson-book in her hand and her insepar- 
 able poodle on her lap. The Earl was proud of the grace 
 and beauty of his womankind, and considered them as only 
 secondary to his son and— his money. Indeed, beneath the 
 crust of avarice lay something near akin to love for his wife 
 and children, though they scarcely suspected it. 
 
 "Alicia, I have settled at last to send Penruddock to 
 Eton, and thence either to college or on a foreign tour," 
 began the Earl. 
 
 Her ladyship, who was not easily excited either by joy, 
 grief, or surprise, looked up, and gently murmured in a sort 
 of interrogative affirmative, "Yes?" 
 
 "You think I am right, Alicia? 
 
 " I suppose so ; but we shall miss him, shall we not, 
 Mona?" 
 
 " I shall be glad, for he is such a tease," replied Mona. 
 "Shall we take him with us to London, papa?" 
 
 "We must give up town again this year if Penruddock 
 goes to Eton," said the Earl, contemplating the faded carpet; 
 "I cannot afford both." 
 
 Mother and daughter glanced at one another. London had 
 been unvisited the last two seasons on account of the Earl's 
 poverty ; and a journey to London in those days, with such 
 an establishment as the Earl of Craigavon must take with him, 
 certainly did cost a fortune. 
 
 " I wish I was introduced, and then we should be obliged 
 to go," said Lady Mona, pettishly. 
 
 "You are too young to give an opinion; go to your 
 governess," returned the Earl, severely; and Lady Mona 
 unwillingly obeyed. 
 
 The Countess placidly continued her embroidery. It was 
 a secret relief to her to feel that her son's education was at 
 last decided, for he had been unmanageable at home. 
 
 "You are well, Alicia?" asked the Earl, glancing at her for 
 a moment. 
 
 "Yes; and you? I heard you walking about last night,
 
 AP ADAM'S SIXTH BOV. 73 
 
 and feared you had an attack of those horrible spasms. Had 
 we gone to London you might have consulted a physician." 
 
 " It was nothing ; they come and go, as I must," remarked 
 the Earl, with a grim attempt at a jest and smile as he left 
 the apartment, and went to an adjoining part of the Castle 
 which he had appropriated to himself. 
 
 This was a tower which overlooked what was called, by 
 some, Twryn y Megyn — the Nose of the Bellows ; by other, 
 Twyrin y Witch — the Witch's Nose ; or what was, in fact, the 
 extremity of the promontory. Hence the Earl could survey 
 his little world of waters and rocks. Outside the basement 
 was a terrace on which he was wont to pace, and it was here 
 that the Countess believed she had heard him the previous 
 night. From this terrace, private paths were hewn in the 
 rocks on either side of the Castle, which led directly to the 
 shores of Ogof and Ton, so that no one was safe from his 
 lordship's supervision. In this particular part of the Castle 
 were the subterranean passages and dungeons employed by 
 chieftains of the olden times as places of retreat or imprison- 
 ment, but turned into warehouses of wreckage under the new 
 regime. As the Earl kept his own keys, no one entered this, 
 his peculiar territory, without his permission, and here he 
 knew that he could be alone. 
 
 "I must get rid of them all," he soliloquised, or, more 
 properly, thought, as he sat down at a bureau, then the ortho- 
 dox writing-table, desk, and davenport combined. " This 
 fellow, Ap Adam, is a spy, and dogs my steps; he shall go 
 first. Then old Pennant's grandson and his Newfoundland. 
 But for them, that child ! ha ! what was that ? But for him, I 
 should not send Penruddock away j but for him, no gold would 
 have been left — no Evan disabled — no tower mounted. Curse 
 those Pennants, they are always in my way ; impertinent, 
 meddling, canting hounds ! No wonder I came into the 
 earldom as poor as a Lack-land, when my ancestors granted 
 those interminable leases at almost a nominal rent. But in less 
 than a score of years they will end, and then ! and then I shall
 
 74 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 leave my son the richest noble in the land— be the richest my- 
 self, I mean ; for I am a young man, and shall still be young 
 when lease after lease has run out. Then David Pennant and 
 that upstart boy will know that they cannot browbeat with im- 
 punity the Earl of Craigavon." 
 
 ...
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 MR. TUDOR was requested by the Earl to give Mr. Ap 
 Adam notice to quit the vicarage, upon the plea that, 
 as the living was his, he must eject the tenant. The task was 
 not pleasant ; still he could not refuse to do it without offend- 
 ing his own patron, and his mother's apparent benefactor. It 
 was he, therefore, who wrote a polite letter to Ap Adam, 
 regretting the necessity of asking him to vacate the vicarage — 
 though it was the Earl who received such rent as the school- 
 master had paid. 
 
 Ap Adam took the notice coolly enough, shrugging his 
 shoulders, and saying, " That is the Earl. I expected as much. 
 I didn't set Evan the Tower's leg for nothing. Now I must 
 continue my travels. I shall be sorry to part with Caradoc. 
 Why must one feel sorrow and interest, in spite of one's best 
 efforts to avoid them ? " 
 
 But the Pennants were not so cool when they, in turn, heard 
 from Mr. Ap Adam that he must give up his school with the 
 vicarage. 
 
 " You won't leave us till you have polished off the boys ? " 
 said Farmer Pennant. 
 
 " And Daisy ? " added his wife ; for Daisy had been some 
 time under tuition when the notice arrived. 
 
 "The boys will have more time to give to ploughing and 
 sowing, and Daisy to the making of butter and cheese. Much 
 more important and useful than anything I can teach them," 
 rejoined Ap Adam. 
 
 " You are tired of us?" suggested the old farmer 
 
 75
 
 76 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " No. The last years of my life have been the quietest, and 
 almost the happiest, I ever passed. I have not known you and 
 yours in vain, sir." 
 
 "Then you must not leave us," rejoined the old man. 
 " David, we can hammer up the barn into a school-room, and 
 find bed and board here for Master Ap Adam." 
 
 "Surely, father, if you will. But our friend may not like it," 
 replied David Pennant. 
 
 " He likes genuine hospitality, at any rate," said Ap Adam, 
 rising to hide some feeling that forced itself uppermost. "But 
 you must consider— I must consider — one cannot take advan- 
 tage ; " and the reserved schoolmaster fairly broke down. 
 
 His companions had too much tact to continue the subject, 
 and it was set aside for that day. 
 
 But when the Earl returned from taking his son to Eton, he 
 heard that the tenant ejected from the vicarage had been wel- 
 comed at the farm, and that Mr. Ap Adam was continuing his 
 scholastic labours at Brynhafod. This was written down in the 
 book of his memory as another offence of the Pennants, to be 
 avenged when the occasion offered. 
 
 But years passed, and no particular occasion occurred. To 
 all appearance matters went on quietly around him. He him- 
 self grew more moody and restless, but, at the same time, riches 
 increased from various sources. Wrecks continued at inter- 
 vals, though, for some mysterious reason, less frequently than 
 at the time when this tale began ; old leases lapsed and new 
 ones were granted— if granted at all— at an enormous increase 
 of rent; property reverted to him at the death of a distant 
 relative, and he needed to stretch the utmost limit of his 
 imagination to declare himself poor, when everybody knew that 
 he must be rich. But no one dared to gainsay him. Your 
 proud, reserved, uncompromising man wields a mighty sceptre. 
 People are afraid of him, and although they may misdoubt him, 
 they are silent. 
 
 It was so with the Lord of Craigavon. He was disliked by 
 his equals and feared by his inferiors ; still no one resisted
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. JJ 
 
 him — no one, indeed, knew exactly what to say about him. 
 His reputation was negative. He did not entertain profusely; 
 he was not benevolent ; he would not extirpate the wreckers, 
 root and branch ; he did not build a lighthouse ; he was not 
 unkind to his family ; he was not a genial man. What he was 
 he managed to keep to himself, so that not even his wife knew. 
 One thing, however, he was— devoted to his only son. 
 
 Although Lord Penruddock preferred school, college, foreign 
 travel, anything to home, when once he had left the Castle, his 
 father never crossed his will. Was he right or was he wrong? 
 We have seen him as a boy, we have to consider him as a 
 man, and in so doing must leap over the important years of 
 adolescence, not only as regards his lordship, but the other 
 youth of this our veracious history.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON THE ESGAIR. 
 
 ONE evening in Autumn a figure stood at the extremity 
 of the Esgair. The signs both of sea and sky indicated 
 a stormy night, and the wreckers were preparing their false 
 lights for their diabolical work. The Esgair, as has been said, 
 was the ledge of rocks that ran the farthest into the sea of 
 any on that coast— farther even than the promontory on which 
 Craigavon Castle stood. It was difficult and even dangerous 
 of access, on account of the slippery nature of the rock in some 
 parts, and its irregularity in others; still it was not unapproach- 
 able, though shunned by the superstitious on account of its 
 name and the legends that appertained to it. Its highest 
 point was a cone, surmounted by a sort of shelf of overhanging 
 rock, which looked towards the sea, and was called Cader y 
 Witch, or the " Witch's Chair." The back or concave of this 
 chair alone was dimly visible from the land ; the hollow or 
 front from the sea. Latterly, the country-folk and fishermen 
 declared that witches, fairies, corpse-candles, and all sorts ol 
 strange sights were visible on the Esgair. As the fairies were 
 in those days universally believed in, most people imagined 
 they had taken compassion on the mariners, and were strug- 
 gling with evil, in order to save them from destruction. The 
 " little men in green " were supposed to be the souls of such 
 human beings as were not good enough for heaven, nor bad 
 enough for the other place, so had their purgatory here, while 
 permitted to aid in saving life and doing good. But their 
 haunts were never invaded, though many a dweller amongst 
 
 the vales and hills was said to have frequently seen them. 
 
 78
 
 ON THE ESGAIR. 79 
 
 The fairy, or witch, as may be, that stood on the Esgair, 
 was clad neither in green nor black, the fabled colours of the 
 species, but wore the Welsh costume. She — for it was a 
 woman — was dressed in the striped woollen of the country 
 manufacture. The short petticoat and looped-up gown not 
 only enabled their wearer to climb the rocks like a roe, but 
 displayed a beautifully-shaped foot and ankle, while the short- 
 hooded scarlet cloak and high black beaver hat protected her 
 both from sun and shower. The figure beneath was tall, lithe, 
 and graceful. The face — oh, what a face it was ! — " beautiful 
 exceedingly." Bands of sun-brown hair lay below the full lace 
 border of the cap, and dark, straight eyebrows between the 
 high white forehead and drooped eyelids. The cheeks were 
 pink and round as health and youth could make them, while 
 the line oi features was regular as that of the statue of a 
 Greek Venus. The eyes were not visible, for she was bend- 
 ing over some object with which her hands were engaged. 
 These ungloved hands were sunburnt, and, though delicately 
 shaped, seemed not unused to labour. 
 
 She stood near the Witch's Chair, on what would have 
 appeared to most people a dangerous ledge of rock, but was to 
 her evidently a place of security. Here and there patches of 
 soil dotted the Esgair, and she had reached one of these ; so 
 that, whatever the danger of her scramble, she considered her- 
 self safe. She was stooping over some sort of hole, from the 
 opening of which she had removed a flat stone, and whence 
 she drew carefully what looked like an enormous lantern. 
 Placing it within the Witch's Chair, she took from a large 
 pocket, that lay beneath her short tucked-up gown, three or 
 four packages. One contained a flask of oil and a wick, the 
 other a tinder-box. From these she supplied and trimmed her 
 monster lantern, and with much difficulty struck a light to 
 kindle her wick. In days when there were no lucifer matches, 
 or such-like appliances, some skill was needed to strike the 
 flint with steel so as to let the sparks fall on the tinder beneath, 
 and produce the desired flame It was, however, done success-
 
 So THE PENNANT FAMILY 
 
 fully on this occasion, and a powerful light soon blazed within 
 the big lantern. Happily there was no wind with the brood- 
 ing storm. Had there been, so fragile a figure could not have 
 stood on the Esgair, and the tinder would not have kept alight. 
 As it was, however, our young witch managed not only to keep 
 her footing, but to hang her giant lantern beneath the stone 
 canopy of her chair. 
 
 When this was done, she knelt down, and clasping her 
 hands, and uplifting her eyes to the darkening sky, said aloud, 
 
 " Bless this beacon, O Lord, and save yonder ships from 
 destruction; for His sake who stilleth the tempest. Amen." 
 
 The upturned eyes were deeply blue and lustrous, and gave 
 expression to a face of singular loveliness. 
 
 Rising, she examined the fastenings of her lantern, and 
 muttered, — 
 
 "Once more, Carad, bach!" 
 
 Apertures were chiselled in the rock, both above and at the 
 back, to receive the iron-holders of the lantern, which were so 
 inserted into them as to steady it, and which, being cast with 
 the girders, were capable of resisting the winds. It was a won- 
 derful contrivance, and must have cost the inventor much 
 time and pains. Under no circumstances could the simple 
 machinery have been seen from a distance without a telescope, 
 and in the twilight that woald not serve. That the light was, 
 at least, dimly visible from afar was certain, because of the 
 reputation the spot had suddenly again acquired for super- 
 natural appearances. Will-o'-the-wisps, or, as the Welsh call 
 them, corpse-candles, are common enough in all damp moun- 
 tainous districts ; so the sensible may have attributed this and 
 similar lights to natural causes, but the ignorant to super- 
 natural. 
 
 The sea raged below and the sky darkened above, when the 
 young lamplighter turned from her work, and fearlessly re- 
 crossed the Esgair. She was sure of foot as a mountain sheep, 
 and seemed to dare the precipices as if they were common 
 field-paths. She evidently knew every step she had best take,
 
 ON THE ESGAIR. 8 1 
 
 and in less than ten minutes was beyond the steep slippery 
 rocks, and safe on the hill at the back. Then she ran up the 
 rough mountain road, between serried ranks of prickly yellow 
 gorse and heather — across a sheep-path on the down, where, 
 like Scott's Ellen, she scarcely crushed the harebell, which rose 
 "elastic from her airy tread" — and finally reached the road 
 to Brynhafod. 
 
 " Good evening, miss ; I know you by your whistle. Make 
 you haste, or the storm will be upon you/' said a cheery voice. 
 " We're looking for a wreck to-night, and master has told us to 
 be ready." 
 
 "Good-night, Moses. I didn't know I was whistling so 
 loud," was the reply.' 
 
 Our witch had been whistling a Welsh air, softly as a sleepy 
 blackbird, end now turned it into a song. Ar hyd y Nos — 
 " All through the Night,'' — suddenly pierced the heavy air, in 
 a sweet clear treble voice. No sooner had it begun, however, 
 than it was interrupted by a joyful bark, and a big dog was 
 upon her. 
 
 "Gwylfa! bad Gwylfa ! Where have you been? Suppose 
 I had fallen into the sea ? Ah, I understand ; you have been 
 down to help. No wreck to-night, Gwylfa. Here comes the 
 rain ! " 
 
 " Where have you been, Daisy?" interrupted a voice, and a 
 young man stood beside her. " You should not be out so 
 late. I have been seeking you ever since I came in from the 
 field. We have been obliged to stack the corn again, because 
 of the threatening weather, and I worked till sunset, or I 
 should have been after you before." 
 
 " I have been looking for the fairies again, Michael, as the 
 Master says," laughed Daisy. " They keep me from harm. 
 Oh ! if I could but see them, and catch one, and bring her 
 home, and put her in — in — a lantern ! But how it pours ! " 
 
 " Take my arm, Daisy, and let us run.'' 
 
 "Oh, Michael, you know you must not run. And now you 
 will catch cold again, and it will be my fault ! Mother told 
 
 G
 
 82 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 me not to let you be out in the rain. If you have another of 
 those horrible blisters, and have to be bled, I shall never, 
 never forgive myself." 
 
 Michael and Daisy hurried through the rain, arm-in-arm, 
 and finally reached Brynhafod, followed by Gvvylfa. They 
 were met in the passage by Mrs. Pennant and Marget. 
 
 "What have you been about, Daisy?" asked the one. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, Miss Daisy," began the other ; " if 
 you get wet, you shall be drying your own clothes." 
 
 " Oh ! mother, I was only caught in the rain just in the 
 road. Now don't scold, Marget ; I will dry them all myself — 
 but look to Michael," replied Daisy, whispering the last part of 
 the sentence aside to Marget. 
 
 She ran up to her room, while Marget got possession of 
 Michael. 
 
 Doubtless the reader knew from the first, despite the cun- 
 ning of the writer, that the witch on the Esgair was Daisy. 
 And the maiden was assuredly a witch and a daisy in one. 
 The witch in the scarlet cloak and conical hat ; the daisy when 
 they were removed. Her delicate cheeks were pink and 
 white, her pretty lace cap had pink ribbons in it, and her 
 muslin apron was white as daisy petals. The furniture of her 
 little room was also of white dimity ; while a pink patchwork 
 quilt of a most elaborate pattern covered the bed. 
 
 " It will be a horrible night," she said, glancing out of the 
 window that faced the sea. " Shall Carad or the wreckers 
 have the best of it ? Why will the Earl keep that light in his 
 tower? He can't be dressing for dinner, or undressing for 
 bed." 
 
 She ran down to the hall, where she was greeted by old 
 Farmer Pennant, who was smoking his pipe in the chimney- 
 corner, with, " Ah ! my Eye of Day, thou hast been much 
 backbitten by thy elders. Why dost stop out in the rain ? 
 Now, don't break my pipe, child." 
 
 " Let me stuff it instead, grandfather," she cried, as she 
 kissed the old man.
 
 ON THE ESGAIR. S3 
 
 He was still hale as ever, though perhaps his hair was whiter 
 than of old. There was a loud knock at the front door, and 
 Daisy ran to open it. 
 
 "Will you give an old man shelter, Miss Daisy?" said a 
 voice. "I shall never reach the Castle in this rain." 
 
 " Madoc, dear old Madoc, come in. What ! you have your 
 harp ? Then you shall play for us ! Grandfather, is it not 
 delightful ? " 
 
 A white-haired old man, bending under the weight of a harp, 
 staggered into the hall. He was the Castle harper ; for, even 
 into the present century, the Welsh nobility and country 
 gentry maintained their harpist, who played in the hall during 
 dinner. The Earl's stipend was not large, and Madoc some- 
 times earned money elsewhere by playing at the neighbouring 
 farms. 
 
 " Put down your harp and come and dry yourself, man," 
 said old Farmer Pennant. " 'Tis almost time you and I 
 stopped work. We're over eighty, and when you die of age, 
 I shall quake for fear." 
 
 " You'll neither of you die yet awhile. Give me that damp 
 neckerchief, Madoc," said Daisy, taking a piece of swathing 
 yellow calico from the old man's neck, and hanging it before 
 the blazing fire. " How does the sea sound to-night? " 
 
 " Fearfully rough. Wind rising north-east," replied Madoc. 
 
 " On purpose to blow the ships on the quicksands," returned 
 Daisy, pettishly, "just to favour the wreckers ! " 
 
 " Thee must not say that, child. Thou knowest Who holds 
 the tempest in the hollow of His hand," remarked the farmer. 
 
 " Yes, grandfather. But the wrecks are so awful ; the 
 drowned men so horrible ! I cannot bear them ! " 
 
 Michael came in. He had grown into a man — thin, pale, 
 and thoughtful-looking. His hair was black and long, his eyes 
 large and lustrous. It was no wonder that his poor mother 
 was always anxious about him — she who had lost so many 
 children from that mountain scourge, consumption. His eyes 
 turned instinctively on Daisy.
 
 84 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 "You did not get wet, dear? " he said. 
 
 "No, Michael. And if I had, I should not have minded. 1 
 am so strong, and love the wind and rain so much, that nothing 
 hurts me. Is father at the bay ? " 
 
 " He is on the look-out somewhere. Madoc, are there 
 lights about among the cliffs ? " asked Michael. 
 
 " I saw none to-night. But what is the fire on the Esgair, 
 that the fishermen talk of? Farmer Morris told me that Twm, 
 the oyster-dredger, told him it had saved a brig from Cardiff 
 on the night of the last storm." 
 
 " Doubtless it is the Lord's fire," replied Mr. Pennant, 
 reverently. " Where evil is, good comes to counteract." 
 
 Daisy's face flushed, and she went towards the door. 
 
 "Where are you going, Daisy?" said Michael, who was 
 watching her. 
 
 '• To get Madoc some hot spiced ale, and see after dry 
 clothes for father. Then we will have some music." 
 
 She disappeared. 
 
 "Bless her! She gets prettier every day!" exclaimed 
 Madoc. " All the youths of the country-side are in love with 
 her." 
 
 "Too young — too young and hot-headed to think of love 
 yet awhile— she can't be seventeen," said the old farmer; 
 while Michael's pale face grew paler. 
 
 He bestirred himself, however, to place Madoc's harp near 
 the old man in the chimney corner, and to fetch his own from 
 the parlour, which he put at a little distance. Daisy soon 
 returned with the hot ale, which Madoc drank with all his 
 heart. 
 
 " Thou drinkest as thou playest, man, in earnest," laughed 
 the farmer. " I wish I could see our Michael do that." 
 
 " Now, Madoc, you must play," said Daisy, imperatively. 
 "You first, then Michael, then both together. It is delightful. 
 We can forget the storm. Hark ! how it blows ! But there 
 are no guns, as when I was cast ashore, mother fetch ! " 
 
 The girl shuddered. She knew all of her history that was
 
 ON THE ESGAIK. 85 
 
 known, and was never tired of making Mrs. Pennant recite the 
 story of her adoption at the farm. 
 
 Madoc began to play, and Marget stole in and took her 
 favourite seat on the settle, while Mrs. Pennant went to her 
 accustomed stool in the chimney-corner, knitting in hand. 
 Daisy sat down beside her, and leaning her elbow on her knee, 
 her cheek on her hand, listened ; while the old farmer took his 
 pipe from his mouth, and Michael stood by his own harp, 
 attentive to Madoc, gazing at Daisy. When the aged harper 
 ceased, Michael, at a word from Daisy, began to play ; and 
 then, as if inspired by their own music and the Welsh airs they 
 loved so well, they played together. 
 
 "Now, Eye of Day, sing us ' Llwyn On,'" said Mr. 
 Pennant. 
 
 " Play you, Michael," said Madoc ; and the young man 
 struck a few chords as an accompaniment. 
 
 Daisy's clear fresh voice rang through the hall. It was not 
 quite uncultivated, and she, like Michael, had picked up a 
 little music from old Madoc. When she ceased, the men 
 clapped their hands, and the harper asked, " Is that the song 
 you sang to my Lady Mona ? " 
 
 " I have sung her many, Madoc. Do you know how she 
 is ? " replied Daisy. 
 
 " They say she is no better, and that my lord is going to 
 London with her by-and-by." 
 
 " Hush ! there is father !" exclaimed Daisy, starting up and 
 running to the door. "What of the ships?" she added, as 
 David Pennant entered, together with the moonlight. 
 
 " Safe ! past the Esgair ! No wreck to-night, little Daisy." 
 
 " Thank God ! " cried the girl, clasping her hands, and 
 hurrying to hide her emotion in preparations for supper. 
 
 She and Marget laid the meal, while Mrs. Pennant dozed in 
 her favourite corner. 
 
 " You said we were past work, master, just now," quietly 
 remarked the harper. "The Earl thinks so too. His lordship's 
 tired of me, and wants to get rid of me."
 
 86 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " There's always a home for you at Brynhafod," returned 
 old Mr. Pennant. " But the Earl won't turn you away, for 
 very shame." 
 
 " He gets nearer and nearer every day," whispered Madoc, 
 as if afraid of being heard. 
 
 "They say the young lord is a fine pull upon him," said 
 David Pennant. " Well, Daisy, but you've given us a grand 
 supper in honour of Madoc." 
 
 She had, indeed, made the board groan with good cheer, 
 and stood to contemplate it with evident delight. Michael 
 stood by her, and when they all sat down to supper seated 
 himself by her side. 
 
 The old farmer said grace, and allowed no one but himself 
 to lead family worship ; so when supper was over, and cleared 
 away, the household assembled as usual for reading and prayer. 
 His voice faltered when he put up a special petition for the 
 absent, but it resumed its strength when he offered praise for 
 the stilling of the tempest. 
 
 " Now, Madoc, strike up the Old Hundredth," he said, when 
 they rose from their knees ; and all stood to join in the grand 
 and familiar psalm. 
 
 Large tears were in Daisy's eyes as, putting her hand into 
 Mrs. Pennant's, she murmured, " Oh, mother, if Carad were 
 but here ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A SUMMONS TO THE CASTLE. 
 
 THE following morning, at dawn, Daisy was again on the 
 Esgair, but not alone : Gwylfa was at her side. The old 
 dog insisted on doing what his friends did, and more than 
 they could do. Daisy had extinguished the still burning light, 
 had replaced the big lantern in its hiding-place, carefully 
 covered it up with its stony lid, and had seated herself in the 
 Witch's Chair, to watch the sunlight spread gradually over the 
 sea. The sun had risen behind the mountain at her back, and 
 was slowly dispersing the mists that hung about it, and re- 
 vealing the golden gorse and red and purple bracken and 
 heather that covered the hill-side as with a many-coloured 
 garment; revealing, also, the white sheep just awakening from 
 sleep, and shaking the night dews from their fleece ; revealing 
 and arousing all nature, animate and inanimate. Daisy saw 
 the shadows float softly over the sea, and then dance away 
 with the lights ; saw the sea-gulls poise, hover, dip, and rise 
 from the waves; and saw the great eagle soar up from its eyry. 
 Then she listened intently, for she heard a lark pouring out 
 its little soul in a song of praise somewhere above her, " near 
 heaven's gate ;" and then she herself sang very softly, as if in 
 unison, a verse of a Welsh hymn. Gwylfa put his head on her 
 lap, fixed his eyes upon her, and listened. 
 
 There was a ship riding safely at anchor on the far horizon, 
 and there were some fishing-smacks coming in from oyster- 
 dredging towards Monad ; but there were no bending masts or 
 
 signs of wreck on the distant merfa, or sea- marsh. So Daisy's 
 
 37
 
 88 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 young heart rejoiced, and her song of praise ascended cheeiily 
 from the lonely Esgair. 
 
 Gwylfa suddenly pricked his long ears, and glanced down 
 the precipice. A whistle sounded from below, and when it 
 reached Daisy, a few moments after it reached the sagacious 
 clog, she rose, exclaiming, "Has he come, Gwylfa? How 
 early he is ! " and began a perilous descent to the beach in- 
 stead of her usual homeward way across the Esgair. 
 
 In less than ten minutes her hand was grasped by her old 
 friend and tutor, Mr. Ap Adam. 
 
 " I thought you were never coming back, and here you are 
 at cockcrow," she began. "Why have you been so long? 
 We have been wondering what had become of you." 
 
 " You, at least, need not wonder, Daisy, who are in trn 
 secret council, or rather have thrust yourself into it, and made 
 of the duet a trio," he replied, smiling at the bright morning 
 vision that greeted him. " I have been fishing and geologising 
 from the Dinas to the Garth Mawr, and making acquaintance 
 with lots of people." 
 
 " Could you see the beacon ? ' she asked, breathlessly. 
 
 " Yes. That brought me home so early, for I knew you 
 would be here to extinguish it. Let us go back to breakfast." 
 
 The tide was out, and they walked along the beach. 
 
 " I have been staying at Glanhir, and making my observa- 
 tions," said Ap Adam. " I find that our beacon is called the 
 ' Witch's Candle,' and that we are safe from discovery as long 
 as it is believed supernatural. But the Earl will scarcely be 
 misled, and his interest goes with the wreckers. If Carad were 
 here, we should foil them all. But you must only venture at 
 special seasons." 
 
 " Have you heard from him ? When will he be at home?" 
 cried Daisy, eagerly. 
 
 "I should think in a few months, for he is sure to pass." 
 
 " Then he will never leave us again." 
 
 Ap Adam shook his head. " He is too adventurous and 
 aspiring to pass his life here, Daisy."
 
 A SUMMONS TO THE CASTLE. 89 
 
 " He has promised mother." 
 
 " Only if she insists on it ; and I scarcely think she can." 
 
 Daisy's dark lashes fell. She could not bear separation from 
 her brother Carad. She did not know whether she loved him 
 or Michael best ; but he was her ideal of perfection — her 
 brave, clever, unselfish, handsome protector and friend. Ap 
 Adam glanced at her and sighed. 
 
 " My work again," he thought. " Even this child has learnt 
 loo much." 
 
 Yet he might have been proud of his work. Neither of the 
 three pupils, to whom he had devoted himself during his 
 residence at Brynhafod, had ever done anything to disgrace 
 either him or their parents ; and he loved them as if they were 
 his children. 
 
 'You will not leave us again, sir?" said Daisy, uplifting 
 her drooping eyelids, and displaying the violets beneath. 
 
 " My dear, you must understand me. As long as I could 
 repay my friends for their kindness by my poor scholastic 
 services, I remained willingly. If it were not for my miserable 
 sight, I could make-believe to do farm-work by day, and set 
 our beacon alight each night ; but I am good for nothing but 
 poring over old books and old stones ; and I cannot eat the 
 bread of dependence." 
 
 " I do not feel dependent, yet I am," said Daisy, flushing. 
 
 " You are their adopted daughter, and will be " Ap 
 
 Adam paused, but Daisy understood him. 
 
 She knew that he meant " will be their real daughter, when 
 you are a little older, and marry Michael." She was young, 
 but felt intuitively how well Michael loved her, and that every- 
 one had settled their marriage some day. The thought always 
 made her grave, but not unhappy ; it was so natural. He was 
 only a few years older than she, whereas Caradoc was almost a 
 man when she was a child. Not that Michael had ever spoken 
 to her of love other than a brother's; and Carad had not even 
 seen her since she had grown up ; and she looked on him as 
 quite old, and superior to every one else. Still she dared not
 
 90 THE PENNANT FAMILY 
 
 ask herself which she loved best ; and in the vulgar sense of 
 " being in love," she had made no inquiry at all, needing 
 none. 
 
 But it was Caradoc she had watched and followed all her 
 life. While Michael ailed at home, she had scaled precipices, 
 ascended mountains, forded brooks, collected curiosities with 
 him. From him she had learnt to whistle, to ride, to drive, to 
 climb trees, to perform many masculine acts ; and with him 
 she had acquired such knowledge as Ap Adam chose to teach 
 her. She knew something of Latin and Greek — of history, 
 geography, and poetry ; she had a smattering of much know- 
 ledge, and a desire for more ; but, when Caradoc left home, 
 study was no longer the delight it had been. 
 
 It was while eagerly watching him and Mr. Ap Adam, and 
 listening to their conversation, sometimes in Welsh, sometimes 
 in English, that she had learnt the secret of the beacon ; and, 
 once learnt, Caradoc made her his confidante in this as in 
 most things, on a promise never to betray confidence. No 
 one else was to know the origin of the light on the Esgair, lest 
 the knowledge should bring trouble. 
 
 When Daisy and Ap Adam reached the farm, breakfast was 
 ready, and the men were coming from the field. 
 
 " I shan't trust you to help me churn again, Miss Daisy," 
 said Marget, as they crossed the barton and entered by the 
 backdoor; "your promises are pie-crustes, sure enough. And 
 there's missus has had the dairy to see to, and she's as weak as 
 a new-born calf." 
 
 "See what I've brought you, Marget," said Daisy. 
 
 "Lord bless us! here's the schoolmaster!" cried Marget, 
 wiping her hands on her apron in order to shake Ap Adam's. 
 "Well, I'm glad enough to see you, sir ; but there'll be nothing 
 but them dirty books now, and less work than ever in Daisy." 
 
 There was vehement welcome when Ap Adam appeared at 
 breakfast. 
 
 "You may as well make away with yourselt at once, man, 
 as go scrambling about as you do, with your bad sight," said
 
 A SUMMONS TO THE CASTLE. 91 
 
 olJ Pennant, when he had half shaken his hand off; "why 
 can't you be content to read here ? There are rooms enough, 
 now Carad's away." 
 
 " Right, Mr. Pennant, I do but cumber the ground," said 
 Ap Adam, who took, as a rule, a dejected view of life. 
 
 " There you are again ! " exclaimed David Pennant ; " why, 
 you're not a bit improved. We cast off tares and stones and 
 such refuse from our land, while we welcome you back to it." 
 
 Ap Adam smiled. 
 
 "And they don't turn even a helpless old man away, sir," 
 said Madoc the harper, staying a large piece of ham on a 
 steel fork, as it was about to make its way to his mouth. 
 
 "Nor a helpless young woman," put in Daisy, courtesying 
 demurely towards Mrs. Pennant, as she stood behind the old 
 farmer to pour him out a mug of ale. " Here we are, the 
 three degrees of comparison— young, younger, youngest ; 
 housed, more housed, most housed." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! see what a scholar you've made of her," laughed 
 David, who, like the rest of the household, not only did his 
 best to spoil Daisy, but to make her vain. 
 
 " She supplied my deficiencies. The master never could 
 turn me into a scholar," remarked Michael, looking tenderly 
 at Daisy. 
 
 " You were too weakly to learn ; you were ever a sickly 
 lamb," said Mrs. Pennant. " But Carad ! Ach ! There's 
 clever he is ! " 
 
 The good woman always roused up at the thought of Carad. 
 
 " What's the good of his talents if he carry them away from 
 home?" said David, wrathfully ; and Daisy glanced at Ap 
 Adam. 
 
 When breakfast was over she had enough employment. In 
 the first place she washed up the breakfast things, then she 
 helped Mrs. Pennant to make the beds. 
 
 " Why did you put old David into Carad's room ? " she 
 asked. " He might have meddled with his property, and then 
 wouldn't Carad have been angry ! "
 
 92 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " You know, my dear, I always keep the bed made and the 
 sheets aired in case he should come back of a sudden," replied 
 Mrs. Pennant, who never expected notice of her son's return. 
 
 "Ah, mother, how you love him! So do I. Everybody 
 loves Carad. Yet he was naughty sometimes." 
 
 " I think it was mostly you who led him into mischief. 
 Carad's wild and daring ; but, Daisy ! Ach yn wir /" 
 
 Mrs. Pennant smiled, and Daisy, fancying a reproof, coloured 
 hotly. 
 
 " I shall dust his room, mother," she said ; and Mrs. 
 Pennant left her to her work. 
 
 Daisy had helped to collect most of the strange medley of 
 curiosities that filled this apartment, and knew, therefore, their 
 value in the eyes of Caradoc. There was one shelf covered 
 with specimens from the mineral kingdom, another the vege- 
 table, a third the animal. 
 
 " I cannot bear these," muttered Daisy, turning from the 
 bottles which contained wonderful creatures preserved in 
 spirits ; " but Carad never killed them ; he could not do that.". 
 
 The book-shelf apparently interested her most, for, as she 
 took down one volume after another from the small library, 
 she opened each and forgot her work in it. Many passages 
 were marked, and these she read, often exclaiming, " So like 
 him ! Dear Carad ! " 
 
 But for her peculiar education, it would have been strange 
 to see her poring over a Latin book as intently as a Welsh or 
 an English one ; but she was apt at languages, and her masters 
 had taught her well. 
 
 '■ Here's Morris the Castle," were the words that suddenly 
 roused her from her inopportune studies j and Marget put her 
 head in at the door. " She says she wants you, and I says 
 you're busy ; but I didn't tell the lie knowingly, for I thought 
 you were at work." 
 
 Daisy started as if taken in a crime. There was dew in the 
 violets as she gazed up at Marget. 
 
 " I'm thankful I can't read ! " was Marget's exclamation. " I
 
 A SUMMONS TO THE CASTLE. 93 
 
 see no good in books but to make one idle. Read instead of 
 dusting ; read instead of spinning ; read instead of mending 
 the stockings— that's what Miss Daisy and other learned mag- 
 pies do. When I put her into the tub that night I never could 
 have believed she'd turn into such a lazy cuckoo." 
 
 " Who did you say wanted me, Marget ? " 
 
 " Morris, lady's maid, the Castle." 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 "I didn't ask her — I'm not liking her well enough. She's 
 as smooth and fine as a peahen in her grey and white, and 
 talks about as squeaky." 
 
 Daisy laughed with a ring that startled the curiosities. 
 
 " Fine for you to laugh while missus does the work ! " said 
 Marget, offended, and hurrying down the passage. 
 
 Daisy found Lady Mona's maid, Morris, in the hall awaiting 
 her. She shook hands with her ; but Daisy had a way of her 
 own that repelled familiarity when she did not desire it, and 
 of this Mrs. Morris was only too conscious. She was always 
 trying to patronise Daisy, and trying to no purpose. She 
 made a point of speaking English when she could, and her 
 accent and idioms were decidedly national. 
 
 " Lady Mona is sending me to ask you to come to the 
 Castle this afternoon, Miss Pennant ; her ladyship is feeling 
 dool now the company has gone." 
 
 " Is Lady Mona better ? " asked Daisy. 
 
 " Well, she is feeling better, Miss Pennant, when she is 
 being amused, and that is why she is sending for you. Her 
 ladyship the Countess is requesting you to come." 
 
 Daisy's spirit rebelled at the manner of the summons, but 
 she did not venture to disobey. 
 
 " At what hour, Miss Morris ? " 
 
 " As soon as you can after luncheon, Miss Pennant. Sure, 
 my lady is very condescending to be asking you — quite an 
 honour, as everybody is saying; but then her ladyship do like 
 to be hearing the news." 
 
 " I am sure I never have any ; but I am glad if I can be
 
 94 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 of use to Lady Mona," said Daisy, rather abruptly — for she 
 had a singularly straightforward manner, and seldom hesitated 
 to speak her thoughts. " I will just run and ask mother first." 
 
 She found Mrs. Pennant in the dairy. 
 
 " Mother, Marget has been scolding me for idling, and now 
 I am come to ask if I may go to the Castle. It sounds grand, 
 but I think I would rather not go ; I don't like entering by 
 the postern, as if I were a servant." 
 
 " You might take the tenants' door, Daisy. But you must 
 not be proud." 
 
 " It is not pride, mother ; but the men look at me as I pass, 
 and make their remarks. They are grander than my lord, and 
 much more familiar. It was all well while Carad was at home 
 and took me, for they were afraid of him. He was really 
 more noble than the Earl, and conducted himself as well as 
 Lord Penruddock." 
 
 "Is the young lord at home, Daisy ? " 
 
 " They never send for me when he is at home, mother ; 
 and you know he has not been at the Castle for two or three 
 years. I should like to speak to him, he looks so free and 
 handsome." 
 
 " Fie, Daisy ! it is not befitting young girls to talk so of 
 young men, especially their betters. You must tell Miss 
 Morris you will be very happy to wait upon Lady Mona. 
 Besides, you will see Miss Manent." 
 
 " Come and say it for me, mother. No ; I am not sure 
 that I shall see Miss Manent. She goes sometimes to Maesglas 
 to visit Mrs. Tudor." 
 
 " Sure, they say Mark Tudor is fond of her, but that the 
 Earl won't let them marry. They've been acquainted long 
 enough." 
 
 Mrs. Pennant accompanied Daisy to the hall, and made a 
 formal speech to Morris, to the effect that Daisy should " wait 
 upon Lady Mona." 
 
 " You will take a glass of ale or mead, and a piece of cake, 
 Miss Morris," said Mrs. Pennant, with customary hospitality ;
 
 A SUMMONS TO THE CASTLE. 95 
 
 for none were thought to do their duty at the farm who 
 declined to eat and drink there. 
 
 " It is rather early, Mrs. Pennant ; but I've no objections," 
 replied Morris, in Welsh this time. " A glass of mead, if you 
 please." 
 
 Daisy went to a cupboard in the wainscoted side of the 
 hall, and took out a decanter and glasses, which she placed 
 on an elaborately-gilt tray that stood on end on a neighbouring 
 table. Then producing some rich home-made cake, she 
 carried the tray to the large table. She then poured out two 
 glasses of mead, or metheglin, as it was called, and gave one 
 to Morris, the other to Mrs. Pennant, who would not have 
 considered it polite to allow her visitor to drink alone. 
 
 "Your good health, Mrs. Pennant," said Morris, elegantly 
 sipping the strong home-made honey-sweet mead. 
 
 " The same to you, Miss Morris, and better health to my 
 Lady Mona," returned Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 When Morris had departed, Mrs. Pennant's first and womanly 
 idea was Daisy's dress ; so — as Marget expressed it — " More 
 time was lost in trying on that new silk gown than the gown 
 and Daisy were worth." Nevertheless, Daisy had resumed her 
 ordinary attire for the twelve-o'clock dinner, when the men, 
 Ap Adam inclusive, came in hot and tired from the wheat- 
 harvest. It must therefore be conceded, in spite of Marget's 
 counter-opinion, that Daisy had done a good morning's work 
 between the time when she stood on the Esgair, and the mid- 
 day meal. She looked, too, as girls who work with a will 
 usually do, all the better for it ; and it is not surprising that 
 Michael should take her hand and say, with his soft voice and 
 gentle manner, " You look as fresh as a rose, my Daisy."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FEARLESS. 
 
 EVER since that first visit, when she lost her lorket and 
 chain, Daisy had been in the habit of going from 
 time to time to the Castle. When Lady Mona's life was 
 unusually dull and monotonous, she sent for Daisy to enliven 
 it ; and the fearless naivete of the child of the farm amused 
 the young lady of the Castle. As Daisy grew up, the Countess, 
 also, admitted her to the somewhat melancholy grandeur of 
 her apartments, and so she became in some sort privileged, 
 if not exactly as guest, at least as familiar dependant. Not that 
 she would have owned herself a dependant. She belonged 
 to the principal farmer of the district, and was independent 
 as the Lady Mona herself; but she was willing to subserve to 
 the rank she had been taught to h nour. Her peculiar educa- 
 tion and surroundings gave a tone to her mind and manners 
 that made her sufficiently ladylike never to offend even the 
 refined taste of the Countess ; and even when, now and again, 
 she accidentally met the Earl, he failed to find any special 
 flaw in her conduct at which he could take exception. And 
 he did perseveringly seek such a flaw ; for he objected to her 
 visits to the Castle, though he could give no sufficient reason 
 why, the more especially as she never came without messages 
 of duty from Mrs. Pennant, and a basket of the choicest ot 
 the farm produce. Of course it was impossible always to con- 
 ceal her presence from the Earl when she came to the Castle, 
 so he was given to understand that she not only amused his 
 daughter, but helped on her education, and prevented her 
 
 pining for other companions. But it was easy to see that he 
 
 9 6
 
 FEARLESS. 97 
 
 disliked Daisy, and was more moody than usual when he by 
 chance stumbled upon her. 
 
 In spite of clever arrangements to the contrary, he met her 
 as she was tripping over the stony road on the day we have 
 just reached. He was on horseback, and would have been 
 at a distance but for an unexpected delay. His groom was 
 behind him — and Daisy thought the Earl a very grand-looking 
 gentleman, albeit she did not like him particularly. But she 
 did not fear him, as did every one else. Why should she ? 
 She had never done anything to injure or offend him. 
 
 She was about to pass him with the country curtsey she had 
 somehow managed to make graceful, when he stopped to speak 
 to her. He knew that English was as familiar to her as Welsh, 
 thanks to Ap Adam and the Lady Mona, so he addressed her 
 in that language, which his groom could not understand. 
 
 " Morning, Miss Pennant. I hear that Madoc, my harper, 
 was at Brynhafod last night," he began. 
 
 " Yes, my lord. He was overtaken by the storm, and 
 grandfather made him stay," replied Daisy, quietly, but with- 
 out hesitation. 
 
 " He is past work. Will you tell Farmer Pennant that I 
 should like his son, who I hear plays the harp, to take his 
 place." 
 
 •• Yes, my lord ; but Michael is not strong. He seldom 
 goes out at night." 
 
 " Some one goes out at night, if he does not. But you will 
 deliver my message. Where are you going?" 
 
 " To the Castle, my lord. My Lady Mona has sent for 
 me." 
 
 " What have you in your basket? " 
 
 " Some new-laid eggs and fresh butter, and a bottle of 
 cream, my lord, which mother hopes my Lady Mona will be 
 pleased to accept, because she says unexpected food delights 
 the sick." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Lady Mona is not sick." 
 
 "Oh, my lord!" 
 
 ii
 
 98 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 As Daisy uttered this interjection, she suddenly raised her 
 eyes to the Earl and met his. There was a sort of reproach 
 in her tone and look, but nothing disrespectful. His eyes fell 
 instantly, and his countenance changed, Still he did not 
 move on, but continued in a low, severe voice, 
 
 "That Ap Adam was also with you last night. Where did 
 he come from ? " 
 
 " Maesglas, my lord." 
 
 "What was he doing there?" 
 
 " Surveying the country, I believe, my lord." 
 
 The Earl was now treading very near Daisy's secret ; still 
 she was fearless, for she knew that she could keep it. 
 
 "Surveying? I thought he was a doctor." 
 
 " He knows everything, my lord." 
 
 "He knows too much. Does he know the nature of the 
 light on the Esgair?" 
 
 " I think so, my lord." 
 
 " What does he say it is ? " 
 
 "He calls it the witch's bonfire." 
 
 " Does he say why it is there ? He has the reputation of ' a 
 wise man of the mountain.'" 
 
 " He says it burns to save the ships, and circumvent the 
 wreckers." 
 
 Daisy in her fearless truthfulness had circumvented the 
 Earl, even while her heart beat rapidly with terror lest he 
 should ask what she dared not answer. His face looked grim 
 and ghastly, she thought, as he rode on, and put no more 
 questions ; and hers was more thoughtful than it had been 
 when she met him, as she pursued her way. She was grieved 
 that Michael should be asked to do what he would dislike, 
 and distressed that even the Earl should misrepresent the 
 master. Although, during all these years, no one had learnt 
 his history, she and her friends were sure that he was a good 
 and true man; and were annoyed that, owing to the ignorance 
 and superstition of the peasantry, he should be reputed super- 
 naturally wise. He laughed at this, and used his knowledge
 
 FEARLESS. 99 
 
 to do such good as he was able, regardless that some of his 
 experiments were before his age and the people amongst 
 whom he dwelt. 
 
 When Daisy had passed through the ordeal of crossing the 
 side court and being stared at by the servants, she was es- 
 corted by Morris to the tapestried chamber, where she found 
 the Countess and Lady Mona. To tell the truth, Morris was 
 jealous of Daisy, and when she left her within the door with 
 the words "Miss Pennant, my lady," she closed it unwillingly, 
 with the addition of " I wonder what they can have to say to 
 such a pert chit." 
 
 Daisy made her pretty curtsey, and stood still a moment 
 her basket on her arm. The Countess was seated at her 
 embroidery in the window, as usual ; Lady Mona was lying on 
 a couch, a book in her hand. But Lady Mona started up 
 quite briskly, and said — " Come here, Daisy. What have you 
 got? Butter? I cannot eat ours. Eggs? We never get 
 fresh ones. Cream? We are never allowed cream. And 
 such sweet flowers ! Did you grow those carnations and 
 roses, Daisy? Mine die under the east winds and sea air." 
 
 " I planted them myself. And, if you please, my lady,'' 
 said Daisy, turning from Lady Mona, who had seized upon 
 her, to the Countess, " mother asks your pardon for the 
 liberty, but she sends this with her duty, thinking Lady 
 Mona " 
 
 "Yes, Daisy, I will eat it all!" interrupted her ladyship, 
 laughing. " But where did you get that lovely silk gown ? It 
 is quite new, and so becoming. Look, mamma, how it suits 
 her. I haven't one halt as pretty. I never have anything 
 pretty." 
 
 " You really should not say so, darling," remarked the 
 Countess. " But it is pretty. How long have you had it, 
 Daisy ? " 
 
 " Father brought it me from town last June fair, my lady, 
 and Miss James, the dressmaker, has just been to make it up," 
 replied Daisy, blushing.
 
 IOO THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Put your hat and cloak on the table in the corner, Daisy," 
 said Lady Mona, " Look, mamma, she is quite like a lady in 
 her new dress." 
 
 In those days the aristocracy alone said " Mamma." It 
 was their privilege ; now we are reversing it. 
 
 " Daisy always looks nice," said the Countess, smiling and 
 nodding. 
 
 " You never say that of me," said discontented Lady Mona. 
 
 " Ah ! but your ladyship is so beautiful ! " exclaimed Daisy, 
 quite naturally, and looking admiringly at Lady Mona. 
 
 Daisy was not far from the truth. The Lady Mona had 
 grown up into a woman so delicately fair and elegant that it 
 was impossible not to admire her. Even the discontented, 
 peevish expression that sometimes passed into her face scarcely 
 disfigured it, because it was supposed to arise from ill health, 
 and was excused or humoured accordingly. Her mother 
 adored her; Miss Manent worshipped her, in a way; the 
 servants yielded to her least wish; and even her father rarely 
 contradicted her. He was always ready to promise to pleasure 
 her, though he rarely kept his promises. 
 
 ' f Pray sit down," said the Countess, for Daisy was still 
 standing. 
 
 Young people stood long in those times in the presence 
 of either rank or age. 
 
 Daisy seated herself near Lady Mona's sofa, and her bright 
 healthful face contrasted with her ladyship's pale, languishing 
 beauty. Both were "fair as fair could be," but wholly different 
 in person and mind. There was contrast even in the grace 
 of their figures, which bespoke the contrast within. The one 
 was light, easy, unconscious movement ; the other, dreamy, 
 wearisome, selfish repose — results of a healthy and unhealthy 
 life. Farmer Pennant roused and made useful all Daisy's 
 good qualities; the Earl depressed the Lady Mona's. Still 
 she was rot deficient in them, and, with more freedom of life, 
 would have been as happy in her station as Daisy in hers. 
 Although some five or six years older than Daisy, she looked
 
 FEARLESS. IOI 
 
 as young ; for she looked younger, Daisy older, than her years. 
 If she was really an invalid, it was more from ennui than 
 illness, for her father's peculiar habits rendered friendly inter- 
 course with their equals difficult, if not impossible ; and the 
 stately interchange of visits that took place at regular intervals 
 was rather wearisome than amusing. 
 
 The picture in the tapestried chamber was a pretty one. 
 The Countess at her frame in the oriel, in her rich brocade 
 and lace, her hair just beginning to whiten beneath her cap; 
 Lady Mona, half reclining on the sofa, in some soft silken 
 pink gown, and hair drawn off her fair face ; and Daisy in her 
 high-backed chair, demure and posee, her mob-cap on her 
 stately head, her basket at her side. The white poodle was 
 no more, and had been replaced by a dainty King Charles, 
 actually named Puff, in remembrance of Daisy's first ejacu- 
 lation at sight of Blanche ; and the new pet slept on Lady 
 Mona's sofa. 
 
 Lady Mona inherited her father's inquisitiveness, so she set 
 to work at once to ask questions concerning every person and 
 thing she knew either by sight or name. 
 
 " When is Farmer Pennant's eldest son, Caradoc, coming 
 back?" she began. "Surely they must have made a doctor 
 of him by this time." 
 
 "Mr. Ap Adam says that 'walking the hospitals' is a very 
 long walk indeed," replied Daisy, " but it must end in time. 
 Carad is walking them still." 
 
 The Countess laughed gently. 
 
 " I wish I might have Mr. Ap Adam to prescribe for me. 
 Morris says he cures every one, and practises charms and 
 curious arts. That would be amusing." 
 
 "Indeed she is mistaken, my lady. Mr. Ap Adam is a 
 God-fearing man, and I assure your ladyship that he only uses 
 herbs and such medicines as he procures from the druggist's." 
 
 "What do you mean by a 'God-fearing man?' You use 
 very Puritanical language, Daisy." 
 
 "I mean that he fears God and believes his Holy Word
 
 102 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 too sincerely to deal with witchcraft, which the Bible forbids. 
 You remember how that Simon and Elymas, the sorcerers, 
 gave up their craft when they believed, and the men who used 
 the ' curious arts ' burned their books. Indeed Mr. Ap Adam 
 is a true Christian." 
 
 " Pray don't preach, Daisy. I suppose you learn that from 
 old Mr. Pennant and young Michael, who, they say, preaches 
 to the people at Monad." 
 
 "Because they are so wicked and will not go to church," 
 said Daisy, gravely. " If you had ever seen a drowned man, 
 Lady Mona, you could not help preaching. But then your 
 ladyship was never nearly drowned, as I was, and never lost 
 all that belonged to you in the deep waters. When I think 
 of it, I also long to bear my testimony against those who defy 
 the Lord." 
 
 " Your education has made you too learned for your posi- 
 tion, Daisy," interrupted the Countess. " You must not excite 
 Lady Mona with such subjects." 
 
 " Very well, my lady," replied Daisy, obediently; at which 
 Lady Mona laughed, and rejoiced her mother's heart. 
 
 " You shall come to London with me in the spring," cried 
 Lady Mona. "The Earl has positively promised to take us 
 at last. You shall — let me see, what can you do ? You shall 
 nurse Puff when I am at theatres and balls, and drive with me 
 sometimes. You would create a sensation in your Welsh 
 costume." 
 
 "I should be afraid to go to London; the journey is so 
 long. I could not part from mother," returned terrified 
 Daisy. 
 
 "It is only three weeks. We can post the whole way in 
 three weeks. But you must go if I wish, you know, for no 
 one dares to disobey us." 
 
 Lady Mona emphasised the monosyllable haughtily. Daisy 
 coloured, and did not feel so humble as perhaps she ought. 
 It was not unusual for the young people to disagree, for they 
 had not much really in common ; and Daisy had by nature
 
 FEARLESS. 103 
 
 a resolute spirit, not easily put down when it was a question 
 of justice. 
 
 "You shall have all you wish, darling," said the Countess, 
 soothingly. 
 
 " All I wish ! never ! never ! " cried Lady Mona, starting up 
 with sudden energy. "I have nothing that I wish. We live 
 the lives of nuns and hermits, and I would exchange all 
 the grandeur of Craigavon for Daisy's freedom and Daisy's 
 health." 
 
 Lady Mona sat down again, and began to sob hysterically, 
 as she often did when anything crossed her. The Countess 
 was instantly at her side. 
 
 "Say you will go to London if she wishes," she whispered 
 to Daisy. 
 
 " I cannot, your ladyship, for I do not know that I should 
 be allowed," replied Daisy, firmly. 
 
 " What a fool I am ! There is nothing the matter really," 
 said Lady Mona. " Daisy, ring the bell, and we will order 
 your basket to be removed and the flowers to be put in water. 
 We can settle the London question when the time comes. 
 The Earl says that all at Brynhafod are obstinate mules." 
 
 She spoke disdainfully, as if ashamed of herself and an- 
 noyed with her companions. The bell was rung, the basket 
 removed, the flowers arranged, and she returned to her in- 
 quiries nonchalantly. 
 
 Daisy was soon tolerably at her ease again, and was 
 answering some indifferent question in her clear musical 
 voice, when the door, towards which her back was turned, 
 opened suddenly. 
 
 "Penruddock !" exclaimed the two ladies simultaneously, 
 rising and hurrying towards the in-comer. 
 
 Daisy also rose, and turning saw the Countess and Lady 
 Mona embrace a gentleman, whom she recognised as Lord 
 Penruddock. 
 
 "And no other!" he answered gaily, looking at his mother 
 and sister. "But, Mona, you are not so ill as you report
 
 104 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 yourself. I have actually come from the sweet South because 
 your letter made me think you dying." 
 
 " I am glad of any exaggeration that brings you back," said 
 the Countess, roused into unexpected life and cheerfulness. 
 She is ill, but not dying." 
 
 " She only wants a change from these gloomy walls. I have 
 asked lots of people down for the hunting, and they will soon 
 cure her." 
 
 "Who?" asked Lady Mona, eagerly. 
 
 " The Staveleys, and Colonel Egerton, and Lord FitzGeorge, 
 and Everard, and " 
 
 While a vivid flush overspread Lady Mona's face, Lord 
 Penruddock suddenly perceived Daisy. She had moved to 
 put on her hat and cloak, feeling intuitively that her presence 
 was no longer required. He saw her first in profile as she 
 stood near the table, her scarlet cloak in her hand. He judged 
 her, from her carriage and dress, to be a visitor, but was puzzled 
 when she hastily put on the cloak and high hat. 
 
 ' : Who is that?" he whispered to his mother. 
 
 " Miss Pennant," she replied. 
 
 "The little waif?" 
 
 The Countess nodded. 
 
 Daisy paused irresolute, then turning, perceived that she 
 was the object of attention for the moment. With a sort of 
 distinguished manner, peculiar to her in an emergency, she 
 advanced towards the Countess, and said, — 
 
 " I think I had better go, my lady." 
 
 " Perhaps so, Daisy. Good morning." 
 
 "Won't you introduce me, mother?" asked Lord Penrud- 
 dock, looking with surprise at Daisy. 
 
 "Miss Pennant. Lord Penruddock," said the Countess, 
 smiling, though annoyed. 
 
 Daisy blushed, and made her peculiar reverence, while his 
 lordship removed his hat, forgotten in the hurry of greeting 
 his relations. So Daisy saw him near at last. She looked 
 towards Lady Mona, who was pre-occupied, apparently, with
 
 FEARLESS. 105 
 
 her dog ; then she went to the door. Lord Penruddock 
 opened it, and walked by her side down the corridor. 
 
 "Is Caradoc Pennant at home?" he asked abruptly. 
 
 "No, my lord, he is in London," she replied. 
 
 She was about to turn down the passage by which she went 
 and came, when he stopped her, and said that she was taking 
 the wrong turning. 
 
 " I always go this way, my lord," she replied. 
 
 " But I do not, and shall accompany you to the gate, if you 
 will allow me," he rejoined. 
 
 " 1 have left my basket, and mother enjoined me to bring 
 it back." 
 
 Lord Penruddock smiled. " I will order it to be sent after 
 you," he said. 
 
 But Daisy, trained by the law of obedience as well as love, 
 hesitated. He saw it, and added, — 
 
 " I will have it brought you, if you will come this way. You 
 are not a Pennant, but I see you have their obstinacy " 
 
 " They are not obstinate, my lord, but true to the right," she 
 returned firmly, yet with no assumption. 
 
 "All truth would be pleasant from your lips," he rejoined, 
 and led her down the chief corridor to the grand staircase ; 
 thence to the great hall, with its painted ceiling and men in 
 armour. 
 
 " Ask for Miss Pennant's basket," he said to a servant in 
 waiting ; then, turning to Daisy, added, " It is strange that I 
 should never have spoken to you before. Did Caradoc or 
 Michael Pennant ever tell you of our encounters by flood 
 and field." 
 
 " Never, my lord." 
 
 " Did they ever tell you how beautiful you are ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, my lord. They would not be so bold." 
 
 Daisy's face flushed, and her manner became so dignified 
 that Lord Penruddock gazed at her with some surprise. 
 
 "Others have probably made you acquainted with the 
 fact?"
 
 106 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " No, my lord. I am not used to compliments. Here is 
 my basket." 
 
 Her manner was quite self-possessed, and as she advanced to 
 meet the man who brought her basket, his lordship wondered 
 more and more. The liveried menial wondered also, but did 
 not venture to speak or look in return for Daisy's "Thank you. 
 I am sorry to have given you trouble." She passed through 
 the hall, her basket on her arm. When she reached the 
 ponderous doorway, she turned, curtseyed, and went into the 
 court. This was quadrangular and battlemented, light being 
 admitted through each eyeleted merlon. Lord Penruddock 
 followed her, and opened the great gates. He held out his 
 hand as she went through, but she did not give hers in return. 
 She curtseyed again, and with a " Good afternoon, my lord," 
 pursued her way homewards, saying to herself proudly and 
 hotly, " Mother was right. I wish I had not seen him. I am 
 punished for my curiosity and forwardness. Did he think me 
 bold that he said such words ? Carad and Michael, indeed ! 
 They love me too well to be so silly. I shall go no more to 
 the Castle while he is there."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN THE WAGON. 
 
 IN the midst of her lucubrations Daisy met Miss Manent, 
 accompanied by Mr. Tudor. She was warmly greeted by 
 both; but Miss Manent asked, in affright, if she were late, 
 since Daisy was on her way home. Daisy explained why she 
 had left the Castle earlier than usual, and went on her way. 
 Wc must leave her for a short space, and join the parson and 
 the governess, as they walk, side by side, slowly towards that 
 lordly seat. 
 
 When Lord Penruddock went to school, Mr. Tudor left to 
 reside with his mother, who lived with her family at the 
 steward's house, some two or three miles from the sea, but in 
 the heart of the Earl's property, and in Craigavon parish. 
 When Mr. Tudor gave Ap Adam notice to quit the vicarage, 
 he was in hopes that the Earl might help to repair it, but 
 he did not. On the contrary, he suggested — in other words 
 ordered — that Mr. Tudor should live with his mother, and aid 
 her in the stewardship until his brother was of age — promising 
 to build him a new vicarage when that period was reached. 
 Mr. Tudor demurred, but the Earl said that he must procure 
 another steward if he could not fall into this arrangement. A 
 fresh steward meant ruin to his mother, brother, and sisters; 
 so he consented. He had hoped to be free to attend to his 
 parish, but he was still hampered by secular work. He was 
 also farther than ever removed from Monad, which he felt to 
 be a blot in his parish, and the poor vicarage, his proper home, 
 was falling more and more to decay, and tenanted by one of
 
 108 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the Earl's bailiffs. He still officiated as chaplain at the Castle, 
 and could therefore only give one service at the church; so 
 that, without any fault of his own, save that of irresolution, his 
 parish was neglected. It was reported that he was attached to 
 Miss Manent, but if so, irresolution, or fear of the omnipotent 
 Earl, still prevailed ; for, if he had told her so, which no one 
 ventured to affirm, there were no declared results. 
 
 Miss Manent, however, was much brighter and prettier than 
 when we first made her acquaintance. Whether she was en- 
 gaged to Mr. Tudor or not, hope had appeared at the bottom 
 of her very deep well ; and, strange to say, it dawned with Daisy. 
 She generally either fetched the child from the farm, or took 
 her back, and on these occasions she was always hospitably 
 welcomed by the Pennants, and usually met, by some singular 
 coincidence, Mr. Tudor. He not unfrequently sipped the mead 
 with her in the Brynhafod parlour, and possibly while drinking 
 her health, drank in something else : for he had discovered the 
 dove-like softness of her eyes on that day when she had first 
 taken Daisy back to the farm. Hope and Love equally give 
 courage, and one day, when the Countess and Lady Mona 
 were to be many hours absent, she had taken heart to ask 
 leave to pay Mrs. Tudor a visit, and had received it. But that 
 lady, being a woman of business and a managing mother, had 
 not welcomed her so warmly as her son could have desired. 
 She had, nevertheless, at his particular request, invited her 
 from time to time, and when Daisy met her she was returning 
 from a hasty call at Maesglas, attended by the Vicar. We 
 will take up the thread of their conversation just where Daisy 
 broke into it. 
 
 "I believe they really are going to London in the spring, 
 and I am to remain with Lady Mona until then," said Miss 
 Manent. " I hope I may not have followed your advice quite 
 in vain." 
 
 " In what way did I advise you?" asked Mr. Tudor. 
 
 " You said that it would be a grand thing to make of those 
 children a noble man and woman ; and I have tried to do
 
 IN THE WAGON. 109 
 
 my best," she replied, blushing. " I trust I may do better in 
 another situation. The Countess promises to procure me one." 
 
 " Another situation ! You must not — you shall not! The 
 Vicarage " stammered Mr. Tudor, and paused. 
 
 She evidently did not understand him, for she added, — 
 
 " I have no home, no relatives, and few friends. The Pen- 
 nants are my best, and — perhaps — your mother." 
 
 "And, assuredly, my mother's son! Oh, Miss Manent, but 
 for the meshes the Earl winds round us all, I should have 
 spoken to you long ago " 
 
 " Hush ! there he is ! Good-bye," said Miss Manent, hurry- 
 ing away, as Lord Craigavon appeared in the distance. 
 
 " I must summon courage and ask him at once," soliloquized 
 Mr. Tudor. 
 
 The Earl was riding down the principal road to the Castle, 
 and Mr. Tudor had parted with Miss Manent on the side-path, 
 so he hoped that she might have escaped notice. But nothing 
 escaped Lord Craigavon. Although his eyes seemed ever 
 turned earthward, he saw and knew everything. Mr. Tudor 
 went towards him, and, after the usual salutations, began his 
 request with resolution, as he turned and walked by his side 
 towards the great gates, through which Daisy so lately made 
 her exit. 
 
 " I have been wanting to speak to you for some time about 
 the Vicarage, my lord. You were so good as to say you would 
 either repair it or build another, when my brother was old 
 enough to take the stewardship." 
 
 "What can you want with a Vicarage? You are with your 
 mother, and in your parish ?" asked the Earl. 
 
 " I wish to settle, my lord." 
 
 "Not to marry Miss Manent. She is not suitable. I should 
 not help you to such a settlement. Besides, Mona wan:s 
 her." 
 
 "Your lordship must know she is a lady, and has conducted 
 herself admirably all these years," said Tudor, hotly. 
 
 " I know nothing about her, except that she is not a fitting
 
 HO THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 wife for the vicar of this parish. However, that is not to the 
 point. I am too poor to do anything to the Vicarage at 
 present, for this London journey and season will take all my 
 ready money. I will think about it when we return. Your 
 brother knows nothing of his work. He underlet Maesteg the 
 other day, and will ruin me if he goes on at that rate. You 
 must help him to do his work, or we must find some more 
 efficient steward." 
 
 "I have my own stewardship, my lord, and I dare no longer 
 neglect it." 
 
 " See to it by all means, and I must see to mine. But I 
 hear Lord Penruddock has returned, and I cannot lose more 
 time." 
 
 The Earl rode haughtily off, without even a good day, and 
 Mr. Tudor resumed his way with a sort of hopeless pensiveness 
 in his face. What was he to do ? Brave the Earl and perhaps 
 ruin his family, or continue the middle course he had kept so 
 long without definite results ? Let the girl he loved go forth 
 upon the pitiless great world, or marry her in spite of the little 
 world that surrounded him ? 
 
 As he was debating these questions he entered upon the 
 large farm of Brynhafod, which was separated by the brook, 
 before-mentioned, from what was called the park. Sauntering 
 up the meadow, he came upon the wheat-field, nearly cleared 
 of its sheaves. This had been one of David Pennant's experi- 
 ments, which had so answered as to increase tenfold the value 
 of his property. It had been originally common land to the 
 top of the hill, and he had reclaimed it, turned it into profit- 
 able wheat-land. 
 
 There was an empty wagon and four horses at the bottom of 
 the hill, surrounded by a little group of people. Mr. Tudor 
 made for it, and found the three Pennants, Ap Adam, and 
 Daisy, together with Big and little Ben. They were all going 
 up the hill for the last load, and were about to get into the 
 wagon when Mr. Tudor joined them. 
 
 "I have tucked up my best gown, grandfather," he heard
 
 IN THE WAGON. Ill 
 
 Daisy say ; and as he looked at her picturesque figure he 
 sighed, for he leared that his brother, like the rest of the youths 
 of the parish, was losing his head for her. 
 
 "Here's the parson?" cried old Pennant. "Just in time for 
 the last load, Mr. Tudor. Come with us to fetch it, and then 
 return and have a bit of supper — not the harvest-home to- 
 night, but just a snack by way of whetting the appetite." 
 
 Mr. Tudor assented, and the party were soon in the wagon, 
 Daisy jumping up with the ease of one who had been used to 
 such feats all her life. She sat down on the rungs between the 
 old man and Michael on one side, the three others opposite ; 
 the two Bens walked by the horses. The hill was steep, and 
 difficult of ascent, so they were well jolted over the furrows. 
 Now Daisy was hurtled against the farmer, who put his arm 
 round her ; now against Michael, who never ventured such a 
 familiarity. She was sadly anxious about the new gown, and 
 kept it turned up like a balloon, lest wheel or spoke should 
 touch it. 
 
 " You shall have another when that is worn out," said the 
 farmer, laughing. 
 
 " But mother will be angry if I hurt it," returned Daisy. 
 
 "Something has gone amiss with you, parson," said David 
 Pennant — " is it the Earl, or the parish, or Owen, or the world 
 in general? Out with it; we are all friends here." 
 
 "It is the Vicarage, farmer. 1 want it repaired or rebuilt, 
 and can't get it done," replied Tudor. 
 
 " In other words, the Earl declines, and you ejected me to 
 no purpose,' said Ap Adam, drily. 
 
 " It was not my fault. I wish you were there still," returned 
 the despondent parson. 
 
 " But the parish should have a voice in the church and 
 vicarage; and it is time we saw to the old barns," said David 
 Pennant. " I wager the Earl would not object to our doing 
 his work. It will take time, though. A lad)- in the case— 
 eh, parson ? " 
 
 Mr. Tudor sat befveen the farmer and Ap Adam, and
 
 112 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 received a sly poke in the ribs from the one, and a nudge from 
 the other. He coloured uneasily. 
 
 " I know all about it. A very decent, respectable young 
 woman. Very kind to Daisy. My missus very fond of her. 
 Make a good parson's wife," continued the farmer. " If she 
 should want a home for a time, now Lady Mona's grown up, 
 she can come to Brynhafod." 
 
 "You will have a houseful of us!" ejaculated Ap Adam. 
 " Remember my black Venus takes up one room. What a 
 jolt ! Beg your pardon, Daisy; couldn't help it." 
 
 Daisy had been thrown over into the parson's lap, and there 
 was a general laugh. 
 
 " We can put Daisy with Cleo name o' goodness ! 
 
 what's the rest of her name ? My memory fails sadly," said 
 the old man. 
 
 " Cleopatra, grandfather," laughed Daisy. 
 
 Mr. Tudor's face cleared, and a discussion ensued as to the 
 possibility of doing up the Vicarage ; but all were of opinion 
 that the Earl's permission must be obtained first. 
 
 " Then you will never rebuild it," put in Ap Adam, signifi- 
 cantly. " It is well situated for a bailiff's residence, and over- 
 looks a point that brings salvage to my lord." 
 
 " He called you a witch to-day, master," said Daisy ; " and 
 said you knew too much." 
 
 Whereupon Daisy was requested to detail the conversation 
 she had had with his lordship, which she did ; not forgetting 
 his demand upon Michael. 
 
 " Since you are so glib with lords and ladies, Daisy," re- 
 marked Ap Adam, "you can tell his lordship, in your next 
 interview, that I hope to have the pleasure of bewitching him, 
 and shall be glad to have a dance with him ' round about the 
 cauldion stout.' " 
 
 Daisy laughed, but Michael looked L,rave. He little knew 
 that there was secret intelligence between Ap Adam and his 
 Daisy. 
 
 "Is it right to jest about the supernatural, master?" he
 
 IN THE WAGON. I I 
 
 5 
 
 asked. " I think, father, if you have no objection, I might 
 sometimes help poor old Madoc by playing for him at the 
 Castle. Not for money, but for him," he added, flushing ; for 
 Michael had the family pride and independence. 
 
 The farmer's resolute negative was stayed by another jolt, 
 and a resonant " Whoa ! whoa ! " from Big Ben. They had 
 reached the top of the hill, and the remaining wheat-mows. 
 The sheaves had been stacked as a safeguard against the 
 weather ; for, in the late hill-side harvest, they could rarely 
 count upon carrying the wheat at any particular time, so it was 
 put into small, pointed mows, grain inwards, for security. The 
 harvesters were " waiting for the wagon," seated in a group on 
 the hill-top. Below lay the peaceful farm ; around, the sea 
 The heavens were aglow with the blue, purple, and gold of a 
 glorious sunset, for a great globe of fire hung over the western 
 ocean, about, as it would seem, to sink into it. Our friends 
 paused a moment before setting to work, to gaze on the 
 grandeur of the scene. 
 
 "Sustained by the Almighty's hand!" ejaculated old Mr. 
 Pennant, removing his hat reverently, and pointing to the sun. 
 
 The wagon was quickly filled with the remaining sheaves, 
 while many a gleaner started up to glean after them, as they 
 were laid upon it. Women and children had already arms and 
 aprons full. Daisy set to work with them, in spite of the silk 
 gown. 
 
 "Better not, Miss, fach ; you'll be spoiling it," remonstrated 
 the women. 
 
 " It is well tucked-up," replied Daisy, filling the chubby 
 hands of a four-year-old with corn-ears. 
 
 Gwylfa suddenly joined her and the little girl. He had 
 been sleeping with the shepherd's dog, near a sort of impro- 
 vised cradle, in which slumbered Aaron's youngest born. 
 
 The day's work was done just as the sun actually set, and 
 the great hill-side wheatfield was cleared. 
 
 " Let us praise the Lord of the harvest," said the old farmer, 
 as they stood all round about the wagon. "Parson, give out 
 
 I
 
 114 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the harvest-hymn. Eye of Day, pitch the tune. Then, my 
 friends, all to the farm to supper." 
 
 Mr. Tudor recited a verse of a fine old Welsh psalm, and 
 Daisy began to sing it. Simultaneously a volume of sweet, full 
 sound filled the evening air, and mounted to the sky. A 
 chorus of larks, hovering above — far, far out of sight — joined 
 the melody, which seemed more of heaven than of earth. 
 
 " So shall we sing in the eternal city, my Daisy, when the 
 last great harvest has been gathered in," whispered Michael ; 
 words which Daisy never forgot.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PREACHING AT MONAD. 
 
 THE following Sunday afternoon the Earl and his son took 
 a walk together along the shore, in the direction of 
 Monad. They were discussing the light on the Esgair, a topic 
 new to Lord Penruddock. 
 
 " I hope it may prevent the wrecks, whether it be by witch- 
 craft or not," he said. " I wish every wrecker were in the 
 place where they send their victims — that is, I suppose, the 
 bottom of the sea." 
 
 " Then the best part of your income would cease," replied 
 the Earl, grimly. 
 
 " I never thought of that. Do I live upon the ruin of my 
 fellow- creatures? " 
 
 "You have the waifs and strays, as Lord of the Manor." 
 
 " I never saw one I coveted yet, except that pretty girl at 
 Brynhafod. How lovely she is ! " 
 
 The Earl's dark face grew darker, but he made no reply. 
 They walked on in silence. The tide was low, and they picked 
 their way through the patches of sand and shingle, until they 
 reached the point of rock that protected the little bay of 
 Monad, and within which the hamlet stood. As they were 
 about to round it they were arrested by a full, clear voice. It 
 seemed as if some one were singing a " hymn without words," 
 that quiet Sabbath afternoon. Lord Penruddock fancied he had 
 heard the voice before, and if so, it must have been at church 
 that morning, whither he had gone, ostensibly to pray, really 
 to look at Daisy. The family from the Castle rarely went to 
 church, but were content with the one service in their private
 
 Il6 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 chapel. The voice pierced the air alone for a few seconds, 
 and was then joined by many others, so that a volume of 
 sound arose, and reached the listeners. 
 
 " It is some canting Methodist preaching to the fishermen," 
 said the Earl, glancing round the point. 
 
 Lord Penruddock looked also, and both paused in their 
 walk to contemplate the scene before them. They were them- 
 selves hidden from observation by a huge boulder. 
 
 On the beach below the huts, standing near a large stone, 
 was Daisy, surrounded by a score of ragged children, and 
 Gwylfa at her side. At a little distance was Michael, also the 
 centre of a group of men and women. They had books in 
 their hands, and were leading the hymn, which the small and 
 motley congregation followed. One or two sailors were loung- 
 ing about, quietly smoking their pipes, and listening, while a 
 few old people sat at the doors of the huts. The landlady of 
 the beershop, her arms akimbo, her face defiant, also filled her 
 doorway. It was a fresh, grey October day, and the small 
 rocky amphitheatre was colourless as the whitewashed walls of 
 a church. Here and there, however, the reddening ferns and 
 lichens gave it life and light ; as did the landlady's red shawl 
 to the brown huts, and Daisy's scarlet cloak to the shingly 
 beach. The sea in front was greenish-grey, and its white 
 ripples, like so many flounces, served to break, but not 
 disturb, its monotony. The scene was essentially peaceful ; 
 and even the Earl seemed arrested by it for the moment. His 
 son was apparently spell-bound, and gazed so earnestly on 
 Daisy that he proposed taking a path over the cliffs, instead of 
 past Monad. 
 
 " I should like to hear what they have to say to these 
 outlaws," returned Lord Penruddock, " and will join you after- 
 wards." 
 
 But this did not suit the Earl, who, although he never con- 
 tradicted his son — never refused him anything — occasionally 
 circumvented him in secret. 
 
 "We can pass through them," he said.
 
 PREACHING AT MONAD. I 17 
 
 But this was contrary to his son's views. 
 
 " They will disperse at once, and the preacher and teacher 
 will be too terrified to proceed," he remarked. " We will stop 
 here." 
 
 So they remained, concealed by the rock. 
 
 Michael was stationed near enough to their standpoint to 
 be heard with tolerable distinctness. Daisy and her class were 
 inaudible from distance, so that, when the hymn ceased, it was 
 the discourse of the former that reached them while Lord 
 Penruddock's eyes were riveted on the latter. She seated her- 
 self on her stone, and began to teach the children to read ; 
 while Michael, a Bible in his hand, read and explained verse by 
 verse a portion of the Sermon on the Mount. Both he and his 
 parents had sometimes wished that he should be a clergyman, 
 but delicate health and his love of farming, combined, had 
 prevented it. Perhaps, also, in his strange unselfishness of 
 nature, he had given place to his brother, for they had settled 
 between them that both could not possibly leave home, and he 
 knew that Caradoc's soul had soared beyond the wheatfield. 
 Still he was a preacher, not only by the innocence and purity 
 of his daily life, but by the Spirit of God. 
 
 Sometimes, therefore, when Mr. Tudor was engaged else- 
 where, he would boldly speak to the godless people of Monad, 
 who had been, as he expressed it to Daisy, " on his heart from 
 his childhood." And thus he had paved the way for her. She 
 ottered to teach the children, and was somewhat ungraciously 
 permitted. They had not long begun the work, and were, 
 therefore, comparatively new to it ; but Daisy was feeling her 
 way towards inviting her class to their old schoolroom, when 
 the winter came. 
 
 As Michael expounded the portion he had chosen ot the 6th 
 chapter of St. Matthew, to the best of his ability, his voice rose 
 with his subject, and his manner became animated. His 
 hearers made their remarks and interjections as he proceeded, 
 without respect either to person or text. 
 
 " Haven't got no treasure to lay up ; the Earl gets all the
 
 1 18 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 treasure," grumbled a sailor, removing his pipe from his mouth. 
 "The Tower and Castle are full enough, I'll be bound." 
 
 This man was sitting on a piece of rock, between the Earl 
 and the preacher, so that this unpalatable truth reached the 
 present and future lords of the soil. 
 
 " We must fix our hearts on the Lord, and not on the world, 
 then we shall find the treasure we want to lay up, in Heaven, 
 where no thief will break through to steal it," explained 
 Michael. " Of what use to gain the whole world if we lose 
 our own souls ? " 
 
 " Don't know anything of heaven or souls," grumbled a 
 bystander ; " but I should like plenty of money." 
 
 " Listen to this : ' Ye cannot serve God and Mammon,' or 
 the devil, or riches," continued Michael. " Choose this day, 
 this very Sunday, which you will serve." 
 
 " Not the Earl," growled a voice somewhere. 
 
 " Oh ! make choice of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has 
 preached this sermon for you, and died for you," pleaded 
 Michael. 
 
 " Come away," said the Earl to his son, in a savage voice, 
 taking him by the arm. 
 
 " No ; I will understand what the impudent curs mean," 
 replied Lord Penruddock, breaking from his father, and scram- 
 bling over the nearest piece of rock. 
 
 He was instantly in the midst of the congregation. Michael's 
 words were arrested on his lips. Daisy's book fell j and the 
 people stared, half in surprise, half in fright. 
 
 " What do you all mean by preaching and speaking against 
 the Earl of Craigavon ? " cried Lord Penruddock, hotly, facing 
 Michael and the man lounging against the rock near him. 
 " How dare you farmers, fishermen, and wreckers befoul his 
 lordship's name ! " 
 
 " Wreckers ! " growled Davy Jones. " Who says we're 
 wreckers ? Prove it, my young lord." 
 
 "Everybody knows it; and were I Earl of Craigavon I 
 would banish you from the land,"
 
 PREACHING AT MONAD. I 19 
 
 " There are two to that bargain, my lord. We're safe 
 enough while we get the blame and the Earl the profit." 
 
 " Hush ! Davy, hush ! " sounded on all sides ; and " Hush ! 
 my lord ! " was whispered into Lord Penruddock's ear. 
 
 The whisperer was Evan the Tower, who had limped forth 
 from the little crowd. He had been slightly lame ever since 
 the accident at Car eg Mawr. 
 
 " Scoundrel ! unsay your vile words ! " cried Lord Penrud- 
 dock, past himself already, and nearing Davy Jones, who 
 looked wicked enough for anything. 
 
 " I only said as the Earl is Lord of the Manor, and gets the 
 booty ; and you said as we were lords of the manor, and got 
 it," he growled, impudently. 
 
 Lord Penruddock's hand was raised to give the man a blow, 
 when it was suddenly stayed by a word and touch. 
 
 " Remember the day, my lord," said Michael ; while Daisy 
 who had joined the group, grasped the arm. 
 
 Lord Penruddock turned fiercely, and met her reproachful, 
 terrified glance. His arm fell. There was a momentary pause, 
 and the people slunk away to the huts by twos and threes ; all 
 except Davy, Evan, and a man or so who lingered at a distance. 
 
 " We are teaching them the Gospel, my lord," said Daisy, 
 fearlessly meeting his eyes. " Michael was preaching from the 
 Saviour's own sermon. He said nothing to offend." 
 
 Lord Penruddock turned towards her. 
 
 " Why are you alone amid such ruffians ? " he asked. 
 
 " I am with my brother," she replied, pointing to Michael. 
 
 "Go, Davy, go round the point," urged Michael and Evan, 
 while this was passing. 
 
 Davy moved sulkily away, backing towards the spot indi- 
 cated ; then, scrambling over the stone, recently surmounted 
 by Lord Penruddock, found himself face to face with the Earl, 
 who had been listening to all that had passed. Countenances 
 sometimes speak more distinctly than words. It was so with 
 these two men. They glanced at one another, but neither 
 spoke. The fisherman touched his hat by a natural impulse,
 
 120 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 while he looked dogged and wicked. The Earl sought his 
 usual refuge, and cast his eyes on the ground. When he raised 
 them the man was gone. 
 
 " He has escaped, has he? " said Lord Penruddock. " He 
 may thank you, Miss Pennant, that he got off whole of limb. 
 What did the fellow mean ? " 
 
 "It is only his way, my lord," said Evan the Tower. 
 
 "He knows no better," said Michael Pennant. 
 
 " How long have you turned preacher? " asked his lordship, 
 scornfully. 
 
 "Only a few months, my lord," replied Michael quietly, 
 moving to Daisy's side. "We can do no more to-day, Daisy ; 
 perhaps we had better go home," he added. 
 
 "Stay a moment. Do you practise what you preach? 
 Have you forgiven me for trying to throw you over the cliff? " 
 asked Penruddock. 
 
 "I had forgotten it, my lord," returned Michael, simply. 
 
 "But I have not, nor the eagle's nest, nor the tower." 
 
 Further confessions were prevented by the sudden appear- 
 ance of the Earl, waiting at a little distance. 
 
 "When are you coming again to see my sister ? She tells 
 me you are going to London with her," said Lord Penruddock, 
 hastily, to Daisy. 
 
 " I think not, my lord," she answered ; while Michael looked 
 suspiciously at the young man. 
 
 "Penruddock!" shouted the Earl. 
 
 " I have dispersed your ruffianly congregation, and must 
 now leave your conventicle myself," said Lord Penruddock, 
 whose manners and moods were as changeable as the- waves 
 before him. " Good day, Pennant. Au revoir, la Marguerite." 
 
 Michael lifted his hat, and Daisy curtsied, while the bloom 
 heightened on her fair cheek. 
 
 "I'm glad he has gone. Come into the cottages," said 
 Michael. 
 
 "Yet is he kind and comely," remarked Daisy, glancing after 
 the easy, careless figure.
 
 PREACHING AT MONAD. 121 
 
 " Evan ! " shouted the Earl, when Eord Penruddock turned 
 his back on Daisy. 
 
 Terrified Evan limped towards him. 
 
 " See that these gatherings cease, and keep your eye on 
 Davy Jones," were the orders he received. 
 
 " Yes, my lord," was his submissive response. 
 
 " Why should they cease, father?" asked Lord Penruddock, 
 as Evan disappeared. " I heard nothing but religious twaddle, 
 rather likely to improve the natives than not. Those pig- 
 headed Pennants mean well, but not so the villainous people 
 of Monad. They would as soon murder you or me as a half- 
 drowned man." 
 
 The Earl started, and turned even paler than usual. Though 
 tyrannical, he was not brave, and the idea of death, whether 
 by natural or violent means, was not pleasant to him. 
 
 " Murder ! " he muttered, and quickened his pace, as if the 
 avenger were already at his back. 
 
 His son laughed reassuringly, and took his arm within his. 
 The Earl glanced round ; then, with his eyes on the ground, 
 whispered slowly the words — 
 
 " For God's sake don't speak to me of murder, Edward ! " 
 
 " Then let us talk of love," responded the son, lightly. " Is 
 not Mona better already? — has not the presence of Everard 
 worked wonders? I am the best doctor, after all." 
 
 "Everard — Everard," muttered the father. "He is penni- 
 less, poorer than— than we are. Surely he is not bold enough 
 to think of Mona. My daughter ! your sister ! " 
 
 " You can manage to set them up in life, father. Love in a 
 cottage is better than hate in a palace. He is a good fellow, a 
 soldier, handsome, accomplished, and " 
 
 "A spendthrift,'' supplied the gloomy Earl. 
 
 " Better spend than hoard," said his son, to which came no 
 reply. 
 
 The silence that ensued was broken by an exclamation from 
 Lord Penruddock. 
 
 " There she is ! What a dainty little figure ! "
 
 122 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 The Earl looked back, and saw Michael and Daisy scram- 
 bling up a rough cliff-path outside the Monad inclosure. 
 
 " I am sure she must be a lady," he continued. "She has 
 the movements, manners, voice of a gentlewoman. Even in 
 that costume it is unmistakable. I suppose her friends were 
 lost in the wreck." 
 
 "What can it signify to you?" asked the Earl. 
 
 " Love in a farm, perhaps, father ; who can tell ? " was the 
 careless rejoinder.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 CHRISTMAS AND CARAD. 
 
 "/^~"*HRISTM AS comes but once a year,'' was a favourite 
 
 V_y aphorism of old Mr. Pennant's. Indeed, all his family 
 used it and acted upon it. When Christmas did come they 
 kept it royally, giving both to the poor and to the Lord, and 
 fostering old customs abroad and at home. 
 
 On Christmas Eve, therefore, every one was astir at the farm. 
 Mrs. Pennant and Daisy made plum-puddings and mince pies 
 enough for a score of farms ; while the customary boar's head 
 and beef, faggots and logs, mistletoe and evergreens, were 
 hauled in. 
 
 When the evening really arrived, and the preparations 
 were completed, the family assembled in the hall, while the 
 farm labourers were invited to a preparatory supper in the 
 kitchen. A huge fire blazed in both chimneys, sending up 
 flames that would have set fire to less substantial and roomy 
 compartments, but that only served, as was their duty, to warm 
 and enliven the rooms and their inmates. The walls and 
 windows were ornamented with holly and evergreens, and in 
 the latter strange devices appeared. Daisy had formed leafy 
 stars in the quaint panes with much trouble, through the 
 points of which an inquisitive December moon peeped ; the 
 curtains were still undrawn, so that the Frost King also looked 
 in, and a bright, happy scene they witnessed. 
 
 Daisy was chasing old Farmer Pennant round and round the 
 
 " mistletoe bough " that hung in the middle of the hall. She 
 
 declared that he should be the first to be kissed beneath its 
 
 berries, and he playfully eluded her. Michael was aiding her 
 
 133
 
 124 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 in her efforts to entrap him, while his father, from his seat on 
 the settle, caught him by the coat-tails, or Daisy by the gown, 
 whenever they chanced to be near enough. Mrs. Pennant 
 dozed as usual over her knitting on one side ot the chimney- 
 corner, and Ap Adam pored over a book in the firelight, to 
 the danger of his eyesight, in the other. 
 
 Daisy caught the old man at last, right under the mistletoe, 
 and jumped upon his neck. 
 
 " I have you, grandfather ! " she cried, and a loving kiss 
 sounded. 
 
 At the same moment some one quietly opened the front 
 door and stepped from the passage into the hall, where he 
 stood a moment, unobserved. He was a fine, dark, handsome 
 man, with a countenance so remarkable for variety of expres- 
 sion that, even during the few moments he remained unnoticed, 
 it changed frequently. As he glanced round the room there 
 was a tender, almost tearful, light in his eyes, and when they 
 fell on the pair beneath the mistletoe, the whole face kindled 
 into a smile, sweet and joyous as spring sunshine. 
 
 " Now it is thy turn, Michael," said old Mr. Pennant, 
 releasing Daisy. 
 
 Michael stood irresolute, and Daisy made believe to run 
 away. They were as brother and sister, and the mistletoe kiss 
 quite natural to both. But as she turned, in her mirthful 
 shamming, she nearly ran into the stranger's arms. Starting 
 back, she looked at him a moment, while he gazed at her, half 
 pleased, half pained, for she seemed to withdraw as from a 
 really unknown person. 
 
 " Carad ! father! mother! It is Carad!" she cried, and 
 ran, in her eagerness, to arouse Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 It was Caradoc ; and in less time than it takes to tell he was 
 surrounded by his family. He had not been home for nearly 
 three years ; a journey to and from London in those days 
 being lengthy and expensive. His mother clung to him, shed- 
 ding tears of joy ; the men wrung his hand ; but Daisy, where 
 was she? She stood apart, looking on, big dew-drops in the
 
 CHRISTMAS AND CAR AD. 1 25 
 
 violets. Carad, her hero, her knight, her king, had come 
 home, and she had no word to say. But he spoke for her, at 
 last, holding out both hands. 
 
 ' ; Is it really Daisy?" he asked, smiling half incredulously. 
 
 She gave him hers, and her eyes drooped as she did so. 
 
 Michael, watching her, saw it, and wondered why she 
 blushed, and why Carad did not embrace her. But specula- 
 tions ceased in the joy of reunion, and he forgot that his 
 brother had left Daisy a child and found her a woman. Daisy, 
 who had the rare gifts of self-possession and unselfishness 
 combined, ran to the kitchen with the good news. Marget 
 was in the hall immediately, with her arms unceremoniously 
 round Caradoc, and the words, " Name o' goodness, how big 
 he's grown ! " on her lips. 
 
 " Well, there's enough of him," remarked his father. 
 
 " Come, all of you, and see him," said Daisy, and returned 
 to her friends, followed by a troop of ploughmen, ploughboys, 
 shepherds, and their families. 
 
 Caradoc had enough to do to shake hands with them all, 
 and receive their delighted congratulations on his return. 
 
 " He's as fine a gentleman as my Lord Penruddock," whis- 
 pered one. 
 
 " And a deal finer. He's bigger and taller," another. 
 
 "He'd be making a grand lord," a third. 
 
 " They're telling me as it was Pennant, Craigavon Castle, 
 once upon a time, not Penruddock," a fourth. 
 
 " If it was now, things would be different," a fifth, 
 
 These and the like remarks were continued in the farm- 
 kitchen after the kindly people left the hall : and, certainly, if 
 a goodly presence is a type of nobility and ancient lineage, 
 Caradoc must have had good blood in his veins. And so he 
 had. Not only the crimson streams that had their source in 
 some ancient knight of King Arthur's court, but the still purer 
 and brighter of God-fearing, honest forefathers. 
 
 As he stood between two of these, a watery mist in his 
 thoughtful eyes, surrounded by the peasants, who had been
 
 126 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 born, bred, and nurtured on their farm, it would have been 
 difficult to find three finer specimens of the yeoman descended 
 from the noble ; for it may be well to repeat, a Pennant was 
 actually Lord of Craigavon before the Norman got possession 
 of it. Tradition and a long roll of parchment containing one 
 of those pedigrees, concerning which it has been the fashion 
 to jibe the Welsh, attested this fact. The Welsh in those days 
 were even prouder than in these of being genuine, unadulter- 
 ated Britons , and had not yet forgiven their Saxon and 
 Norman conquerors. 
 
 " Go you away, and let the poor boy warm himself," said 
 Marget, authoritatively, to her friends. " Ach ! but he is cold. 
 Warm you him some ale, Miss Daisy, while I go and make 
 some buttered toast." 
 
 " Swimming in butter, Marget — you remember ? " laughed 
 Caradoc. " A cup of tea, if I may be so extravagant, Daisy." 
 
 Marget nodded, and disappeared with the rest, while Daisy 
 and Mrs. Pennant began to spread the board. 
 
 " I will do it, mother. Go and sit down by Carad," said 
 Daisy ; and Mrs. Pennant, obedient still, took her old place. 
 
 " Let me sit by you once more, mother fach" said Caradoc. 
 " Michael, come here. We are almost too big for the three- 
 legged stools now." 
 
 They all gathered into the chimney-corner round the fire, 
 while Daisy moved from cupboard to table, and kitchen to 
 hall, and noiselessly prepared the general supper, while Cara- 
 doc's especial tea was brewing. 
 
 • " You are come home for good now, Carad," said Mrs. 
 Pennant, her eyes brimful of tears. 
 
 " If you wish it, mother. But we will talk of that another 
 time." 
 
 " I suppose you are equal to killing and curing all the parish 
 by this time," said his father. " You'll have to begin with 
 Michael." 
 
 Caradoc put his arm round his brother in the old way, and 
 looked into his face. Letters had rarely passed between them,
 
 CHRISTMAS AND CARAD. 1 27 
 
 and he had heard little of the family health. Correspondence 
 was, like travelling, slow and expensive, when there were 
 neither railroads nor penny posts, and people onlv wrote when 
 they had something important to communicate. He had, 
 therefore, much to learn and all to tell. 
 
 " I have had good experience, father, both in the hospitals, 
 and as assistant to Dr. Moore," he said. " I will, as you 
 suggest, practise a little upon Michael, until I get a reputa- 
 tion." 
 
 " Bleed, leech, and blister him, I suppose," put in Ap Adam. 
 "No good to be before one's age." 
 
 "You exposed that system to me, Master, and I have had 
 battles enough about it," replied Caradoc. " But I think light 
 is dawning, and Nature will conquer at last. If you will join 
 partnership, we should help her on." 
 
 " Too late. Besides, I'm only a quack. How is old 
 Moore ! " 
 
 "Well ; and asks me to be his partner." 
 
 " Then God be praised, thou hast been a good lad ! " said 
 the old farmer, fervently. 
 
 Daisy planted herself behind his chair, and stood there a 
 moment to listen. The eyes of both brothers were fixed upon 
 her, and she met Caradoc's frankly, yet not without a blush. 
 
 " Surely it cannot be Daisy ! " he repeated, dreamily. 
 
 "But who else should it be, my dear?" said Mrs. Pennant, 
 half offended at the doubt. " Whom did you expect here 
 except Daisy? I'm sure I want no other? She's been a 
 blessed daughter to me." 
 
 "And to us all. She is ever our Eye of Day," said the old 
 man, putting his arm round her. 
 
 " It is to be hoped that you won't help to spoil her, Carad," 
 said the farmer. "She is the vainest puss in the county." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted, much to Daisy's comfort, 
 by the entrance of Gwylfa, who usually walked in about 
 supper-time, from his evening visit to the beach. He was a 
 methodical dog, and punctual to meals as to duty. He took
 
 128 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 a survey of the party round the fire, and saw Caradoc. Only 
 those who have witnessed a dog's joy at meeting a friend after 
 long separation could understand how, old though he was, he 
 leapt from the ground, gave a bark that sounded almost a 
 human cry of eager delight, and jumped upon his old master. 
 His fore-legs round his neck, his tongue to his face, his brown 
 eyes beaming with love, he hugged his friend ; while Caradoc, 
 quite overcome, put his arms round his damp, shaggy coat, 
 and half-whispered, "I was looking for thee, old friend." 
 
 The family group was now complete, and the Christmas 
 Eve perfect. 
 
 Marget came in with a dish ot fried eggs and bacon, and 
 the circle was broken only to form a fresh one round the 
 supper-table. 
 
 " May I pour out his tea, mother ? " asked Daisy. 
 
 " She wants to show off the fashionable ways she has learnt 
 at the Castle," said David Pennant. "Look at her, Carad. 
 That's how my Lady Mona holds the tea-pot. This new- 
 fashioned tea is only cat- lap. Better stick to the wholesome 
 home-brewed." 
 
 But Daisy only laughed. She was used to the farmer's 
 jests; and Carad glanced at the graceful head as it bent over 
 the tiny cup and saucer. 
 
 He had enough to do to answer questions, not only con- 
 cerning himself, but London, where no one else present had 
 ever been, except, perhaps, Ap Adam. That gentleman was 
 more greedy of news than the others, and made so many 
 inquiries that Marget rebuked him with, " Let the lad eat his 
 supper, Master. You keep his mouth open, but won't let 
 him put anything into it." 
 
 41 It's big enough, anyhow," said the farmer. 
 
 " I'm sure, David, he's got a very pretty mouth : he always 
 had," interfered Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 " Your geese were always swans, mother," returned her 
 husband. 
 
 There was a general laugh ; while everybody professed to
 
 CHRISTMAS AND CARAD. 1 29 
 
 look inquisitively at Caradoc's mouth — visible, because clean 
 shaven. 
 
 " Stay with Carad, dear mother. I will see to everything," 
 whispered Daisy, when supper was over; and she slipned 
 away. 
 
 " I cannot yet believe in her, mother," said Caradoc, smiling, 
 and laying his hand on Mrs. Pennant's. "She is so much 
 taller than I expected. And she is grown into such a lady !" 
 
 " She was always tall and lady enough for us, iny dear," re- 
 joined his mother, who was easy, and content with things as 
 they were, wanting no change. "I hope you won't put London 
 notions into her head. There's Lady Mona who has been 
 doing that already." 
 
 "That I certainly shall not. A daisy is lovely in the 
 meadow, bnt lost or soiled in the street," replied Caradoc, 
 tenderness in his voice. 
 
 " Well said, my ex-scholar ! " cried Ap Adam. 
 
 Meanwhile Daisy was in Caradoc's room, arranging and 
 rearranging it. She had already placed holly and evergreens 
 there, and the bed was always prepared. She took a Bible and 
 hymn-book from the shelf and put them on his table ; then 
 she dusted his books and curiosities for the hundredth time. 
 While she was thus occupied, Marget came in with the time- 
 honoured warming-pan, and carefully passed it over every inch 
 of the snow-white linen. 
 
 " Mother airs it almost every day," said Daisy, smiling. 
 "At any rate it can't be frost-bitten." 
 
 " I daresay they haven't no warming-pans in London," 
 remarked Marget, rubbing away with satisfaction. 
 
 "Do you think there is anything else, Marget?" asked 
 Daisy, glancing round. 
 
 Marget set her arms akimbo, and looked also. 
 
 " Well, no. I must say it is as tidy as a new-washen dish," 
 was the reply. "Now go you down to the kitchen, for they're 
 expecting you ; and Michael's like a hen with one chick when 
 you're away." 
 
 K
 
 130 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Daisy found all her friends assembled there. The farm 
 people were drinking Caradoc's health in Welsh ale, and the 
 rafters, with their goodly show of sides of bacon, hams, dried 
 herbs, and ropes of onions, shook at their cheering. She 
 stood by Michael's side, while Caradoc returned thanks 
 heartily, and wished everybody a merry Christmas. The 
 chimney-corner was full of old people, who were rejoicing in 
 the warmth after supper, and he was standing amongst them. 
 He certainly deserved, personally at least, the praises they 
 bestowed upon him ; for he was as good-looking a young man, 
 and as kindly-mannered, as any in the county. So also 
 thought Daisy, as she watched him. 
 
 " You said you would not be alive when I came back, 
 Shanno," he remarked to an old woman. " But here I am ; 
 and, indeed, there's no place in the world like home." 
 
 " Thank God that my eyes are spared me to see you again, 
 Carad, bach! I'm turned my fourscore and nineteen. I'm in 
 my hundred," she replied. 
 
 "And I am over fourscore, Shanno," broke in old Mr. 
 Pennant. " Let us return thanks to our Father in heaven for 
 His mercies to us, His undeserving children." 
 
 The word went round, and all present knelt down, while the 
 head of the family and the farm thanked the Giver of all 
 good for the return of his grandson, and for the manifold 
 mercies vouchsafed to every individual, not only in this life, 
 but in the prospect of a still better life, through the atonement 
 and longsuffering of His beloved Son whose birth into the 
 world they hoped to celebrate on the morrow. When they 
 rose from their knees, they all sang a Christmas carol, which 
 Daisy led. 
 
 " Now we must separate, if we wish to be at the Plygain 
 to-morrow morning," said David Pennant, with his jovial 
 heartiness. " Carad, what do you think about it ? I wager 
 you and the Master will be snoring while we are at church." 
 
 " I hope not, father. I think I had Plygain on my heart 
 every Christmas Day in London ; for I could not sleep after
 
 CHRISTMAS AND CARAD. _ 131 
 
 four, and used to get up, light a taper, and think of you all 
 at home." 
 
 " And of the angels and the blessed birth, I hope, my boy," 
 replied his father. 
 
 Carad bowed his head. 
 
 " He is speaking Welsh just as well as ever," remarked an 
 old man. " They are not speaking it in London, I suppose, 
 Master Carad?" 
 
 "No, Shonny. They disdain our ancient tongue, and laugh 
 at what they call my brogue." 
 
 " Then," remarked Ap Adam, in English, " they fail to say, 
 with the gallant Mortimer, 
 
 ' For thy tongue 
 Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned, 
 Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 
 With ravishing division to her lute.' " 
 
 "They rather mimic my initial consonants, and call me 
 Fluellen. But I maintain that Shakespeare did not thoroughly 
 understand Welshy English," replied Caradoc. 
 
 "Have you seen a tragedy of Shakespeare's acted?" asked 
 Daisy enthusiastically, suddenly facing Caradoc, and fixing 
 her eyes on his. 
 
 " I have, Daisy. I have seen 'Hamlet.'" 
 
 " I wish I had been there ! " cried Daisy. 
 
 " You three must keep your Saesoneg for the quality, and 
 speak plain Cwmraeg to us poor folk," said David Pennant. 
 
 "And, Carad, my dear, you must have some hot posset 
 before you go to bed, for fear you should take cold," spake 
 Mrs. Pennant, with maternal instinct. 
 
 Both orders were obeyed, after which Caradoc went to his 
 room, and saw, with wondering gratitude, how carefully it had 
 been tended, and how well the treasures he had gathered from 
 boyhood up had been kept. Something like tears filled his 
 eyes as he murmured, his hand resting on the Book of Life, 
 " No : I must not — I cannot leave them again. The world 
 has nothing to offer so pure and sweet as home."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CHRISTMAS MORN. 
 
 PLYGAIN — anglice, the time of night when the cock 
 croweth, the morning twilight, the dawn — was, as the 
 early service on Christmas morning, religiously kept, not only 
 by the inmates of Brynhafod, but by their neighbours. At 
 about five o'clock, therefore, on the day blest above all others 
 to our fallen race, Mr. Pennant, his family and servants, set 
 out for church, carrying lighted torches in their hands. The 
 moon had disappeared, but had left many of her attendant 
 stars behind, so that lights were not wanting, either above or 
 below, to herald in the morn. The earth was white with hoar- 
 frost, which sparkled in the torchlight like many-hued gems ; 
 while the grey cloak of overhanging twilight veiled them when 
 the gleam was gone. 
 
 As the little procession wended through farmstead, mountain- 
 road, and downs, it was increased from the huts round about, 
 and formed a strange mass of moving light. Each member 
 of it bore either torch or lantern, and the lights must, from a 
 distance, have appeared like so many jack-o'-lanterns. Mists 
 and darkness hung over the sea, and the land was asleep. It 
 was awakened, however, by the joyous sound of hymns. Our 
 friends sang as they walked or stumbled along, and Daisy's 
 clear treble surmounted the chorus. She was at the side of 
 the old farmer; now staying him; now supported by him. 
 Caradoc was on his other side, watching lest he should trip ; 
 but not venturing to offer aid, for he saw that his grandfather 
 was hale as himself, in spite of his fourscore years. David 
 Pennant and his wife were arm-in-arm ; Ap Adam had taken 
 
 13=
 
 CHRISTMAS MORN. 133 
 
 Michael's arm on account of his near sight, and so they walked 
 cheerfully on, singing Christmas carols. It might almost be 
 said that "the hills shouted for joy," since echoes rang on all 
 sides, and thus the "glad tidings " were borne over land and sea. 
 
 When they reached the church they found it a bower of 
 evergreens and a blaze of light. They were among the first 
 to arrive, and the few who were there before them met them 
 in the porch. 
 
 " We promised to come, Master Michael," growled a voice, 
 and to the unspeakable joy of the young lay-preacher, Davy 
 Jones, the fisherman, slunk into the church. He was accom- 
 panied by several others of the Monad people, and some of 
 Daisy's children. Were these the firstfruits of their joint 
 labours ? 
 
 The old church looked almost young, and the quaint antique 
 monument, carved wood screen, and faded mural paintings, 
 stood clearly out beneath the many-coloured tapers and can- 
 dles, and boughs of holly and evergreens that illuminated and 
 ornamented it. 
 
 " I wonder whether the fairies really do take refuge from the 
 cold amongst the leaves ? " whispered Daisy, as she entered. 
 
 " One fairy does, at least," thought Caradoc. 
 
 The large, square, wormeaten Brynhafod pew was in the 
 chancel, opposite the still larger one belonging to the Castle. 
 The latter was hung with faded crimson curtains, and backed 
 and surmounted with monuments, and coats of arms, so old 
 that even Ap Adam could not date them. He had, however, 
 deciphered the name of Pennant in more than one nearly 
 obliterated British inscription, which proved, to his satisfaction 
 at least, that the church had originally been built before Rome 
 laid her finger on Britain, and that the Pennants had actually 
 ruled before the present family, originally Mortdevilles, got 
 possession of Craigavon. 
 
 But this has nothing to do with the Plygain. 
 
 The family from the farm filled their pew, and were thankful 
 to be all at church together once more.
 
 134 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 In the churchyard, just outside the window near the pew, 
 were the graves of the children who had gone home before 
 them ; and of whom Mrs. Pennant thought tenderly as she 
 knelt to pray for those who remained, amongst whom she 
 counted Daisy as one. 
 
 Daisy, seated between the old man and Michael, found her 
 prayers much disturbed by the effect of the church. She had 
 striven against this distraction every year since her childhood ; 
 and still the green branches with their red berries, the manifold 
 tapers that threatened to set fire to them, and especially the 
 arbour in which she herself sat, attracted her from her devo- 
 tions. She was glad when Mr. Tudor and the clerk appeared 
 to take possession of their "bushes," as she mentally called 
 their desks, and began the service. 
 
 The church was full, and the congregation hearty ; for they 
 liked this old custom, handed down to them from a St. Iltyd, 
 or a St. David, or, maybe, some holy man of earlier existence 
 still. The women, whether belonging to the farm or cottage, 
 all wore the Welsh costume, and the only distinction between 
 their head-gear and the men's was the full-bordered and 
 be-ribboned lace cap. 
 
 The service began with a Christmas hymn. Men, women, 
 and children joined, and a volume of praise ascended to 
 heaven. 
 
 Towards the conclusion the voices quailed slightly ; for an 
 unexpected event attracted general attention. Two gentlemen 
 walked quietly up the aisle, and disappeared in the Castle 
 pew. This, although untenanted, corresponded in adornment to 
 that of Brynhafod, and the curtains had been partially undrawn 
 to allow the lights to be kindled, which were stuck, like the 
 bunches of evergreens, into the pews. The Pennants glanced 
 up a moment, and saw that one of the gentlemen was Lord 
 Penruddock, the other a grey-headed man of middle age, 
 whom none of them knew even by sight. They never re- 
 membered to have seen any member of the family of the 
 Castle at the Plygain before. But they knew the reverence
 
 CHRISTMAS MORN. 135 
 
 due to Him they came to worship too well to speculate, so 
 the strange fact was soon forgotten by all, except, perhaps, 
 Caradoc. 
 
 Happily, Daisy, in her unconsciousness of her beauty, and 
 above all, the simplicity of her life, would never have imagined 
 that Lord Penruddock could come to church for any object 
 but prayer, and so did not discover that he had really made 
 the excuse of the old Welsh custom of Plygain to his com- 
 panion, in order that he might see her. And he so planted 
 himself between a bush and taper that he could look at her 
 undisturbed. 
 
 His friend, on the contrary, stood erect in front of the seat, 
 facing the Pennants. He was a fine, military-looking man, 
 with a grey moustache — betokening the soldier, — and a tall, 
 erect figure. He appeared reverent and attentive, although 
 he occasionally glanced about him at what was evidently new 
 and strange to him. He looked frequently into the Pennants' 
 pew, as if attracted by the family it contained ; and, as his 
 eyes turned from one young person to the other, an expression 
 of sadness passed into them. They rested at length, however, 
 inquisitively on Ap Adam, who, thanks to his imperfect sight, 
 was unconscious of his gaze. Not so Caradoc. He was un- 
 comfortably aware that they were all objects of attention — not 
 only to the stranger, but to Lord Penruddock, — and, as young 
 men will, he more than once endeavoured to make them 
 understand that he disapproved of their observation. When 
 the elder gentleman caught his eye, he turned instantly to 
 his book, which, being in Welsh, was probably as "Greek 
 to him"; but Lord Penruddock returned his gaze haughtily, 
 and continued to look at the unconscious Daisy. 
 
 She must have appeared, not only beautiful, but picturesque, 
 to these men of the world, as she stood, flushed with exercise 
 and health, in her country costume, now joining heartily in the 
 responses, now in the singing. She came out like a picture 
 from the strange framework of the leafy pew, and the lights 
 flickered across her face, as if to make her brilliant and clear
 
 136 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 complexion more remarkable than usual. But Caradoc saw 
 that she did not even glance at Lord Penruddock, and was 
 satisfied. Once he remarked that she looked at the stranger 
 with curiosity and interest, but only once. 
 
 It will be evident that Caradoc was not as devout as his 
 friends were. He was keen-witted and clear-sighted, and 
 London had opened his understanding to many things which 
 country philosophy might not have taught him. Whether he 
 had passed through his ordeal scathless or not, he had gained 
 experience, and was all the better fitted to cope with the 
 world from the knowledge of life he had acquired. He could 
 scarcely say, himself, whether he was happier from his enlarged 
 views; but this he knew — that he wished them still farther 
 widened. His mother, who stood beside him, placid as a 
 purring cat, little knew that the sphere into which she sought 
 to place him was already too narrow for him. 
 
 While we are making these irrelevant notes the holy Christ- 
 mas service continues. " Unto us a child is born ; unto us a 
 son is given," has been read ; the Song of the Angels chanted ; 
 the history of the human birth of the Son of God in a stable, 
 and his cradling in a manger repeated ; and the sermon begun. 
 Irreverent gazing of individuals is at an end, for the congre- 
 gation are seated, and hidden by the pews. Mr. Tudor 
 preaches soundly and solemnly — for, although wanting in 
 courage out of his pulpit, he is brave within it. All eyes 
 turn towards him as, with the eloquence natural to his 
 countrymen, he addresses his flock extempore on the sub- 
 ject of the Nativity, and entreats his hearers to love Him 
 who so wonderfully showed His love to them. 
 
 By the time the sermon was ended the church was almost 
 in darkness; for the candles and tapers had burnt down, and, 
 in spite of various efforts quietly to kindle others, gloom pre- 
 vailed. When the Pennants left their pew, Lord Penruddock 
 opened his. The great folk usually waited until the congre- 
 gation had filed out ; but he and his companion mingled with 
 them ; that is to say, his lordship forced his way to Daisy's
 
 CHRISTMAS MORN. I 3? 
 
 side, and his friend to Ap Adam's. But Caradoc kept close to 
 Daisy, and was first in the porch. 
 
 " Take my arm, Daisy," he whispered, and she did so, 
 surprised, notwithstanding, by his abruptness. 
 
 A white, cold twilight enveloped the world, through which 
 a lingering star or so still peeped. The late winter sun was 
 thinking of making his appearance, but hills and mists con- 
 cealed him as yet. Lanterns and torches were re-lighted by 
 some of the people, while others preferred chancing the 
 dawn. 
 
 "A merry Christmas, Miss Pennant," said Lord Penruddock 
 in a low voice, as Caradoc and Daisy stepped out upon 
 the path. 
 
 " Thank you, my lord ; the same to you," she replied 
 frankly, taming towards him, while Caradoc pinned her to 
 his side. 
 
 " I came to church to see you," he continued, in a whisper, 
 but not so low but that Caradoc heard. 
 
 "A cold, dark Christmas morning, my lord," said the latter 
 aloud. "Can I be of service to your lordship?" 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Caradoc Pennant, I think," rejoined Lord 
 Penruddock. " You and I have been long absent. When did 
 you come back ? " 
 
 " Only last night, my lord." 
 
 While this was passing in the semi-darkness, the rest of the 
 Pennants were wishing and receiving the " compliments of 
 the season," from neighbours and friends. Glad words and 
 cheerful voices sounded on all sides. But where was the 
 stranger? In the church still, his hand on Ap Adam's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Perceval! It must be you. I cannot be mistaken!" he 
 said, eagerly. 
 
 Ap Adam turned and faced the speaker. 
 
 " My name is Ap Adam,'' 1 he said, with his dry voice and 
 manner. 
 
 " Ap Fiddlestick ! Where are you staying? "
 
 138 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Not where any visitor of Lord Craigavon's would care to 
 see me. You have mistaken me for another." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I remember you, though we have not met for 
 t venty years." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by a servant, who told the 
 stranger that Lord Penruddock was waiting for him. 
 
 " We must meet again, Perceval ; I have much to tell," he 
 said, hastily, and followed the man to a carriage that was 
 outside the churchyard gate. 
 
 Most of the congregation paused to see it drive off, and to 
 watch the lamps disappear up the hill. When at last the 
 Brynhafod party set out homewards, accompanied by many 
 neighbours, Caradoc retained possession of Daisy, and they 
 returned towards the farm in advance of the rest. 
 
 " How long have you known Lord Penruddock so inti- 
 mately?" asked Caradoc, with a voice betokening annoyance. 
 
 "I do not know him at all ; I only speak to him — or, rather 
 he speaks to me," she replied. 
 
 " I thought you answered him readily enough, Daisy." 
 
 "T returned the compliments of the season, Carad." 
 
 " And that other compliment he whispered in your ear ? " 
 
 "I was indifferent to it. The poets say the gallants have 
 a way of making pretty speeches to women, and I suppose his 
 lordship is a gallant." 
 
 Caradoc smiled, and pressed Daisy's arm involuntarily. He 
 .could not see the deep blush that overspread her face. 
 
 " But when and where did he first address you, Daisy ?" 
 
 " At the Castle, on the day of his return. The Lady Mona 
 had sent for me, and he came back unexpectedly. I have 
 never been to the Castle since — I suppose because they have 
 much grand company there. Old Madoc tells us that Lord 
 Penruddock has brought numerous guests, and that Lady 
 Mona is gay as a lark, while the Earl frowns more than ever." 
 
 "And starves the household, I'll be bound. But when next 
 did you see your gallant, as you call his lordship?" 
 
 " How inquisitive you are, Carad ! I see him so often that
 
 CHRISTMAS MORN. I 39 
 
 I forget. Sometimes on the beach and the hill, at others when 
 I am riding or driving to market on Saturday. Then he is 
 usually on horseback, where, I think, he looks the comeliest." 
 
 " Do you tell him so, or does he tell you how comely you 
 look ? I remember what a wild rider you always were, Daisy." 
 
 "You taught me, Carad. Of course I do not remark on 
 my lord's carriage or person, although he usually makes me 
 some fine compliment. Do all the town sparks speak so 
 politely?" 
 
 " I suppose so. You have studied the poets to some pur- 
 pose, Daisy, for you use their language. What does my lord 
 say?" 
 
 " I forget, for he does not speak the truth. I sometimes 
 tremble lest he should meet me yonder, near the Esgair." 
 
 Caradoc looked towards the far-stretching point, but the 
 light was not visible from behind. 
 
 "Why do you fear that spot particularly?" he asked. 
 
 " Because I only go there when I tend the fire. The place 
 has an evil name." 
 
 "You ! — surely you never light the lantern, Daisy?" 
 
 " Sometimes, when the master is away, and occasionally when 
 he is at home. I am afraid of his losing footing and falling 
 into the sea. His sight gets worse, I think." 
 
 "You must not do it, Daisy. It is dangerous even for a 
 man. How could they let you?" 
 
 "They? Who? No one knows but the master and me, 
 and we cannot let the ships go down and not try to save them." 
 
 Caradoc felt Daisy tremble. She always shuddered at the 
 thought of shipwreck. 
 
 "Dear child, how brave you are! Yet how sympathetic !" 
 he said. 
 
 "Who is the gallant now, Mr. Carad?" she asked. 
 
 He did not answer, but he thought, rather sadly, of the many 
 ties that drew him homeward. Not only his parents, but the 
 beacon and Daisy demanded him. She needed a brother's 
 protection from the doubtful attentions of Lord Penruddock.
 
 140 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Still she had Michael. But, he remembered suddenly, Michael 
 might be more to her than a brother. 
 
 " Have you told Michael of the civilities of my Lord Pen- 
 ruddock?" he asked, pausing and dropping her arm for a 
 moment. 
 
 "Wherefore? They would not interest him. He cares only 
 for what is noble, truthful, and religious." 
 
 " My mother, then, or the master ? " 
 
 " Mother only smiles, and looks pleased when 1 say what 
 sugared and honeyed words I have heard, and I have not 
 spoken of his lordship to the master." 
 
 While they stood in the grey dawn, on the downland beneath 
 the mountain, the sun slowly rose behind it. His first golden 
 ray fell on Daisy. It was no wonder that Caradoc looked 
 at her astonished, and thought he had never seen any one so 
 beautiful. 
 
 "Hush, Carad!" she whispered, her finger on her lip. "The 
 angels are singing carols at the golden gates." 
 
 She looked and pointed upwards, as if she heard heavenly 
 music. Then she smiled. 
 
 " Michael and I always think of the angels when the sun 
 rises," she said. " Ah ! here he is !" 
 
 " I thought I never should come up with you," said breath- 
 less Michael, joining them ; and Caradoc left Daisy's arm to 
 his brother, and walked by that brother's side.
 
 Feeding the poultry." 
 
 [Page 141.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 NOBLE VISITORS. 
 
 DAISY was feeding the poultry in the farm-yard the morn- 
 ing succeeding Christmas Day, when Lord Penruddock 
 and the gentleman who had been at church with him appeared 
 at the gate which led into the road. They stopped there to 
 look at her. She was surrounded by turkeys, peafowl, barn- 
 door cocks and hens, ducks, and geese. Some pigeons, and a 
 few bold robins and sparrows strutted about on the outskirts 
 of the group, and hungry crows and blackbirds hovered near. 
 She held a basket on her arm and a dish in her hand, whence 
 she took handfuls of corn, potatoes, or bread-crumbs, to scatter 
 amongst the poultry at her feet, or throw broadcast to the more 
 distant pensioners. Gwylfa sat at her side, watching her and 
 her large family meditatively, and occasionally barking or 
 growling at some audacious fowl, reproved for greediness by 
 his young mistress. One gobbling turkey-cock, with outspread 
 tail, seemed particularly aggressive, and was frequently repulsed ; 
 but only to come foward again with renewed impudence. 
 
 " You are the most forward bird in the poultry-yard," said 
 Daisy, with a majestic wave of the hand and toss of the head. 
 " I shall call you my Lord Penruddock." 
 
 She was without hat and shawl in spite of the hard frost, and 
 health and joy shone in her face and eyes. Signs of peace and 
 plenty surrounded her. Well-thatched corn-stacks and hayricks 
 stood on one side ; barns, whence sounded the flail of the 
 thresher, on the other; in front, a dovecote; behind, the back 
 of the ivy-clad farm. The yard was large and clean, with space
 
 142 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 for milking many cows, and milk-pails and three-legged milking- 
 stools were drying against the walls. The scene was essentially 
 picturesque, and Daisy's figure its happy frontispiece. 
 
 The stranger was so much engrossed by it that he scarcely 
 heard Lord Penruddock say that they would cross the farm- 
 yard instead of going to the front. They did so, and un- 
 expectedly intruded on Daisy. 
 
 "Why will you call that great brute Penruddock ?" asked 
 his lordship. 
 
 " Because he is so bold, my lord," replied Daisy, curtseying 
 to the stranger as he lifted his hat to her, and, smiling at her 
 answer, asked to be introduced. 
 
 " Miss Pennant ; Sir George Walpole," said Lord Penrud- 
 dock, curtly. 
 
 Daisy had only once before in her short life been introduced 
 formally, and that was to Lord Penruddock himself. On that 
 occasion she believed that she had made, as she expressed it, 
 a milk- maid curtsey ; on this, she scarcely knew why, she was 
 impelled to hold out her hand. Sir George Walpole was 
 middle-aged, and had such grave grey eyes, and such a sad 
 smile, that her heart warmed towards him. After she had 
 committed this breach of breeding, and he had shaken the 
 hand cordially, her face flushed all over. An expression of 
 admiration and interest passed over his features as he looked 
 at her. 
 
 " You never shook hands with me in your life," said Lord 
 Penruddock, reproachfully. 
 
 " No, my lord, never," replied Daisy, gravely. 
 
 " He is too bold/' said Sir George, smiling quietly. " But 
 we are intruding on your work," he continued. " I took the 
 liberty of calling to inquire for an old friend. Is Mr. Perceval 
 — or Mr. Ap Adam — at home ?" 
 
 " I think not, sir; but I will see," replied Daisy ; then added, 
 " Will you kindly go round to the front, my lord, and I will 
 inquire meanwhile ? " 
 
 "May we not follow you through the back?" asked his
 
 NOBLE VISITORS. 143 
 
 lordship ; but Sir George Walpole moved away, and he turned 
 also. 
 
 Daisy quietly scattered the remaining food amongst her 
 poultry, smoothed her dress, and went into the house, attended 
 by Gwylfa, who had eyed the interlopers suspiciously during 
 their stay in the yard. She walked through the passage to the 
 hall, where she had left Mrs. Pennant and Caradoc a short 
 time before. She told them of the visitors, and their knock 
 sounded before she had finished. Mrs. Pennant bustled to the 
 door, and they were in the hall at once. 
 
 "There is no fire in the parlour, my lord, and it is too cold 
 to stand outside," she said, in Welsh. " You will excuse our 
 being untidy. - ' 
 
 Caradoc, who had been reading near the fire, stood, his 
 book in his hand. He mistrusted Lord Penruddock, and was 
 looking at Daisy to see how she took his visit. She was at his 
 side, informing him that the other gentleman looked like a 
 warrior in an old ballad. 
 
 " I have nearly forgotten my Welsh, Mrs. Pennant," said 
 Lord Penruddock, as he entered; "and my friend knows none. 
 But here are your son and Miss Pennant, who can interpret 
 for us." 
 
 He looked at Caradoc, who bowed stiffly. They met as 
 strangers, for their intercourse, such as it was, had been 
 scarcely renewed since their boyhood. Sir George Walpole, 
 however, at once addressed Caradoc. 
 
 "You can give me the information I seek, sir. May I sit 
 down in this warm corner, for I feel the cold much ? " 
 
 He took Mrs. Pennant's chair : Caradoc a corner of the 
 settle ; while Lord Penruddock talked to Mrs. Pennant in 
 indifferent Welsh, and to Daisy in English. 
 
 " I understand that a gentleman who calls himself Ap Adam 
 resides here," began Sir George. " Can I see him ? " 
 
 " He left early this morning, and told me that we were not 
 to expect him back to-day," replied Caradoc. 
 
 " Provoking ! I am positive that he is an old friend of
 
 144 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 mine, whom I have not met for twenty years or more. Did 
 he never call himself Perceval ? " 
 
 " He has been here and in the neighbourhood fourteen 
 years, and has been always known as Mr. Ap Adam. He has 
 lived with us, nominally, at least twelve years." 
 
 " What occupation does he follow ? " 
 
 " He was so good as to teach my brother, sister, and myself, 
 as long as we went to school ; now he is engaged in antiquarian 
 research." 
 
 " Strange ! You are sure his name is not Perceval ? " 
 
 " Certain. It is Ap Adam. He is Welsh, and a clever 
 linguist." 
 
 " Perceval was apt at languages also. When he comes back 
 would you ask him to call on me at Craigavon Castle ? " 
 
 "He never goes there, sir; and I do not think he would 
 call." 
 
 " Then ask him to write. Or will you write to me when he 
 returns, and I will come and see him here, with your permis- 
 sion ? " 
 
 " He may not be back for weeks. We never know when to 
 expect him or where he goes." 
 
 " Then write to me in London. There is my card. Have 
 you ever been in Town ? " 
 
 " I have just left it ; and shortly before I left I think I had 
 the honour of seeing you, sir. 1 was assistant to Dr. Moore, 
 when you consulted him, and he was good enough to give me 
 the opportunity of seeing the illustrious Sir George Walpole. 
 It was but a glance, so I did not recognise you yesterday." 
 
 Caradoc bent his head respectfully, and the elder man 
 acknowledged it with the sad smile peculiar to him. 
 
 " Ah ! They made too much fuss about me. I only did 
 my duty, and if I faced death it was because I did not greatly 
 care for life. When you come to Town again you must pay 
 me a visit. What do you say to an army surgeonship? 
 Vou might make your fortune abroad with your face and 
 figure."
 
 NOBLE VISITORS. 145 
 
 " I have promised my mother to settle at home, sir ; other- 
 wise I should like to see more of the world." 
 
 "That seems a pity. Is it not to throw yourself away ? 
 though, doubtless, you may be happier in this quiet spot than 
 in a more enlarged sphere. Of course you know the Earl of 
 Craigavon ? " 
 
 " As his tenants — nothing more. My family have rented 
 this farm for centuries." 
 
 " But you are people of education. Excuse me , I mean 
 
 no insult to the yeoman, only you and your sister seem ; 
 
 well, you understand what I mean — not exactly country-bred." 
 
 "We owe our education to Mr. Ap Adam, sir. He is 
 unquestionably a gentleman." 
 
 There was a slight asperity in Caradoc's tone as he said this, 
 which Sir George Walpole understood. 
 
 "And he, or Nature, or honest parents, have managed to 
 make a gentleman of you also, my young friend," he said 
 rising ; " and a gentlewoman of your sister," he added, looking 
 towards Daisy, who was replying to some question of Lord 
 Penruddock's with that sort of dignified respect that kept him 
 at a distance. " I shall expect to hear from you when Per- 
 ceval, or Ap Adam, as may be, returns. Now, Penruddock, if 
 you can tear yourself from the meshes of agreeable conversa- 
 tion, I " 
 
 The rest of the sentence was interrupted by the entrance of 
 the two Mr. Pennants and Michael." 
 
 "Glad to see you here, my lord," said the old farmer. " It 
 is a good omen when landlords and tenants meet in the farm- 
 steads. And you will one day be my grandson's landlord, if 
 not ours." 
 
 " We shall never agree. We are already too much set up," 
 replied Lord Penruddock, glancing at Garadoc, who was 
 naming Sir George Walpole to his father. 
 
 "This is indeed an honour, sir," said David Pennant, 
 bowing low. " Even here, in this remote place, Ave have 
 heard of the fame of the great General Walpole." 
 
 L
 
 146 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Caradoc translated his words, and Daisy, escaping from 
 Lord Penruddock, went to his side. Sir George glanced from 
 her to her reputed parents — the dark, good-looking farmer, and 
 his placid, round-faced help-mate. 
 
 " Are you the celebrated general of whom the Master read 
 and spoke, sir ? " she asked, eagerly, " who saved the poor 
 natives from famine at the siege, and ordered the massacre to 
 cease, and ended the dreadful war ? " 
 
 " Is ' the Master ' Ap Adam ? and did he say he knew me ? " 
 asked Sir George, his eyes on the fair, animated face. 
 
 "Yes, sir; but though he shed tears at the wonderful and 
 stirring account, he did not say he knew you. Indeed, I do 
 not think he does, or he must have told us : he would have 
 felt so proud." 
 
 " And I have never before felt so proud as now," returned 
 Sir George, glancing at the group who surrounded him ; for all 
 the little party were now gathered about him. " To save life 
 and be thus welcomed is some compensation for labour and 
 sorrow." 
 
 " Oh, sir ! you who have done such good must be happy ! " 
 said Daisy, impulsively. 
 
 " And surely the blessing of Him who ' willeth not that one 
 of His little ones should perish ' will be yours ! " exclaimed the 
 old farmer, as Caradoc rapidly translated what passed. 
 
 Sir George held out his hand to the old man, who grasped 
 it in his horny palm ; after which David offered his, with the 
 instinct that makes an honest man long to claim brother- 
 hood with the great and good. 
 
 " And Michael, sir, who read of the poor women and 
 children in the war and scarceness, till he could read no 
 longer for the tears," said Daisy, her own eyes glistening with 
 the moisture of feeling. 
 
 " Another brother ? " asked Sir George, as Daisy touched 
 Michael, who was standing by. 
 
 But Michael, bashful and retiring, shrank back at the 
 public notice.
 
 NOBLE VISITORS. 1 47 
 
 No part of this little scene escaped Lord Penruddock. He 
 forgot Daisy, even, while considering it. Here was a stranger 
 who, through the reputation of high deserts, and by a courteous 
 manner, had won the hearts and confidence of people whom 
 he had himself known for years, but who scarcely ventured to 
 address him. Here was a man who had won rank, fame, and 
 fortune, by merit, gladly received where the Earl of Craigavon 
 scarcely deigned to set his foot, and who was greeted, when he 
 did, with a distant respect, born neither of love nor servility. 
 Here was General Sir George Walpole honoured by these 
 people and at home with them, while he, Lord Penruddock, 
 their master, was all but over-looked ! Was it offended pride 
 or self-reproach that induced him to turn on his heel and leave 
 the room ? 
 
 " I must wish you all good-bye," said Sir George Walpole 
 hastily, aware of this sudden exit. "I trust we may meet 
 again. I shall depend on you to keep me informed concern- 
 ing the Master," to Caradoc ; "and on you to keep a little 
 corner in your warm young heart for one who has no daughter 
 to love him as you love your parents." 
 
 He held out both hands to Daisy, who put hers into them. 
 The tears which had been gathering, she knew not wherefore, 
 fell; and while he was shaking hands heartily with the other 
 members of her family, she turned to the window to conceal 
 her strange emotion. Lord Penruddock was waiting without, 
 ami waved his hand to her. She watched him and Sir George 
 until they disappeared, then, with a weight on her heart she 
 had never known before, looked round and saw Caradoc. The 
 others were at the door, seeing the last of their visitors. 
 
 " Why do you cry, Daisy ? " he asked tenderly. 
 
 " I cannot tell ; perhaps the sight of a hero brings tears, as 
 does a sunset or a poem. I wish he had not come ! " 
 
 "Oh ! Daisy, it is something to have had him in our house. 
 I would I were great and noble ! " 
 
 ;< You are — you must be, Carad. You have already saved 
 many lives, and will save more. Is not that heroic ? "
 
 148 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 When the others came in and began to speak of their late 
 visitors, Daisy went to her room. Seated on her low window- 
 seat, she gazed out over the frozen land, until she saw the 
 figures of the two gentlemen on the road. She watched them 
 until they were out of sight, then opened her window to let 
 in some robins that were tapping at the pane. Immediately 
 afterwards a tame pigeon flew in and perched on her shoulder. 
 
 " Coo-coo, I am sad, and I know not why," she said, again 
 straining her eyes as the figures re-appeared on the cliffs. 
 
 Daisy's Christmas had been unusually exciting, and she was 
 probably beginning to feel the reaction. Caradoc's return had 
 moved her nature to its depths. She had been dreaming of it, 
 and hoping for it ever since he left. In him she found more 
 perfect response to all her impulses than in the quieter Michael; 
 and Christmas Day had been like the dawn of a new life to her. 
 But not only had he, her ideal hero, arrived, but a real hero 
 had presented himself to her. Sir George Walpole had been 
 the topic of conversation at the fireside for many a month, as 
 the merciful saviour of tens of thousands of human beings. She 
 had seen him, spoken to him, shaken hands with him, and now 
 she longed to love and comfort him. She — a child of the farm !
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 GAIETY AT THE CASTLE. 
 
 LORD CRAIGAVON was prevailed upon by his son 
 to give an entertainment on a more magnificent scale 
 than usual in honour of Sir George Walpole. As the Earl 
 had his private views when he invited this celebrated man, 
 his former acquaintance, to the Castle, he yielded to Lord 
 Penruddock's request more graciously than usual. Sir George 
 was not only a hero, but a nabob, and wifeless. It was reported 
 that he was looking out for a wife, and the Earl had fixed on 
 one for him. This was his daughter, the Lady Mona. His 
 lordship might certainly have made a worse choice for her, as 
 Sir George had not only made one of those fabulous fortunes 
 amassed in those days by men in the Company's service in 
 India, but had a high reputation as an officer of distinction, 
 honour, and probity. If he had wealth, he had not gained it 
 by malversation : if fame, he had not acquired it by oppression 
 or cruelty to a subject people. He was not an old man, though 
 Lady Mona possibly thought him so ; and he was a gentleman 
 and gooddooking. He took a commendable pride in having 
 worked his way to reputation, unaided by family or party, and 
 had seen enough of life to appreciate at their just value the 
 honours and titles it brought when its years were passing 
 rapidly away. 
 
 Neither did the Earl value the honours and titles ; but he es- 
 teemed the lacs of rupees which were to turn into solid English 
 gold. Unfortunately, Lady Mona cared neither for the one 
 nor the other; and when the Earl, through his Countess, gave 
 
 her to understand what his views were, she declared to her 
 
 149
 
 I50 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 mother that she hated Sir George, and would marry no one but 
 her cousin Everard. 
 
 Such were the Castle politics on the day of the state din- 
 ner, ball, and supper, given in honour of General Sir George 
 Walpole. Nothing so magnificent had been seen during the 
 present Earl's reign. All the nobility and gentry within twenty 
 miles and more were invited, and the Castle was alive again, 
 after a comparative death for a quarter of a century. 
 
 It was the Lady Mona's pleasure that Daisy should be bidden 
 to see her and the Countess dressed ; and Daisy, nothing loth, 
 obeyed. Michael had also been summoned — for the old harper 
 was ill, and there was no one else to take his place. 
 
 " I wish they would let us alone," said David Pennant. 
 
 " I wish they would, father," echoed Caradoc. 
 
 " Thou art jealous because thou art not bidden," lad, laughed 
 the old farmer. "We must keep the. peace while we can." 
 
 " If I could only see Sir George Walpole again ! " cried Daisy. 
 
 " And some one else?" asked Caradoc, aside. 
 
 Daisy coloured as she looked at him with a certain offended 
 dignity, and he regretted that he had put the notion into her 
 head. 
 
 When she and Michael, carrying his harp, set out for the 
 Castle, Caradoc, turning his back upon them, took the opposite 
 direction, towards the Esgair, in order to light its beacon — for 
 the afternoon had been somewhat threatening. He saw the 
 white horses in the sea, and knew that when they appeared, 
 and the wind set north-west, there was danger that the ships 
 might be sent towards the quicksands — and the wreckers knew 
 it also. 
 
 "You look pale, Michael. Let me help you with the harp," 
 said Daisy, as she and Michael wended their way. 
 
 "I am only nervous, Daisy. It is a terrible ordeal." 
 
 " But you play so well ! And you will see all the grand 
 people — you will see Sir George Walpole ! Oh ! Michael, I 
 wish I were you ! " 
 
 " I almost wish you were, Daisy; you are better fitted for it
 
 GAIETY AT THE CASTLE. I 5 I 
 
 than I, for you have already been often at the Castle, and I 
 never." 
 
 When they reached it Michael was at once conducted to 
 the great entrance-hall, and placed in the harper's seat near 
 the banqueting-room ; while Daisy went to the Lady Mona's 
 apartments, as usual. She was received by Miss Manent, 
 who welcomed her affectionately. 
 
 "I have had my notice in form from the Earl himself, 
 Daisy," she said. "Lady Mona will not want me after they 
 reach London." 
 
 " What a happy release ! " exclaimed Daisy, involuntarily. 
 " Now you will be your own mistress, and can come and stay 
 with us. Mother says she hopes you will honour us by a visit, 
 though, of course, we are plain people." 
 
 "Oh ! if I could ! But I must go with the family to town." 
 
 Daisy's protest was interrupted by the appearance of Morris, 
 who summoned them to the Countess's boudoir. 
 
 "Just one glance, Daisy, before we go down," said Lady 
 Mona, proudly. "I thought you would like to see us." 
 
 " Oh yes, thank you, my lady," said Daisy, and stood amazed 
 before the Countess and her daughter. 
 
 The Earl had unlocked the strong box in which he kept the 
 family jewels, and they literally blazed with precious stones. 
 
 As they stood in the tapestried room to be admired, they 
 looked like pictures that had walked out of their frames. The 
 Countess wore trailing black velvet, point lace, feathers, and 
 diamonds enough to dower her daughter. The Lady Mona 
 was dressed in white satin ; while opals and emeralds encircled 
 her neck and arms, and shone in a tiara on her head amid the 
 drooping feathers. They carried pictured and jewelled fans, 
 were stately and tall, and stood before the country maiden and 
 the governess, conscious of rank, beauty, and superiority. 
 
 " They are like a queen and princess going to Court. Surely 
 Vashti and Esther were never more beautiful," thought Daisy. 
 
 " You can look over the great staircase and see us go in to 
 dinner, and, perhaps, watch the ball afterwards," said Lady
 
 152 TIILC PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Mona, glancing back at her, as she and her mother went down 
 the corridor. 
 
 The Lady Mona was no longer pale and sickly, but passing 
 fair and seemingly healthful. Hope and joy had brought back 
 her blcom, and cheerful society her spirits. Her brother had 
 not returned, accompanied by Captain Everard Soarnes and 
 other gay friends, in vain. 
 
 As Daisy and Miss Manent followed her and the Countess 
 at a humble distance of time and space, they noted the change, 
 and the latter said, — 
 
 " Lady Mona has been so kind of late, that I shall grieve to 
 leave her after so many years." 
 
 " You will find some one kinder still," was Daisy's straight- 
 forward answer. 
 
 When they reached the great oaken staircase, they heard the 
 sound of the harp. 
 
 " It is Michael," whispered Daisy, breathlessly. " He is 
 frightened, for he does not play his best." 
 
 She strained over the balusters, and caught sight of the harp, 
 but not of him. Her attention was soon distracted by the 
 booming of the big dinner-bell, and by hasty steps in the 
 corridor. 
 
 "Miss Pennant!" exclaimed Lord Penruddock, who was 
 late, and hurrying down to his guests, already assembled. 
 
 Daisy started as he laid his hand on her shoulder, too 
 familiarly, she thought. She wished she had not come. 
 
 " I will meet you in the schoolroom after dinner," he added, 
 in a whisper, and passed on, this time touching her hand as it 
 rested on the banisters. She blushed crimson, and said hastily 
 to Miss Manent, — 
 
 ' Come away." 
 
 "Wait till we have seen Sir George Walpole, who is to 
 marry Lady Mona," said her companion. 
 
 In a few minutes the company streamed through the hall — 
 a grand and goodly gathering, in silks and satins, uniforms and 
 laced coats.
 
 GAIETY AT THE CASTLE. 1 53 
 
 "There he is: what has he on his breast?" whispered 
 Daisy. 
 
 " His orders, his stars, his ribbons, and honours." 
 
 " I wish I were Lady Mona, with my hand on his arm, but 
 not gloved. Will he ever shake hands with me again ? I feel 
 like Cinderella. Come away, Miss Manent." 
 
 " One minute, dear Daisy. See ! Lord Penruddock looks 
 up and kisses his hand to us." 
 
 "Daisy recoiled; but she glanced again when Miss Manent 
 said, involuntarily, under her breath, " Oh ! he has been in- 
 vited, then." 
 
 This was Mr. Tudor, who was walking alone at the tail-end 
 of the company. It was now Miss Manent's turn to blush. 
 
 "Why did they not ask you to dinner, and then he would 
 have had a lady like the rest ? " said Daisy. 
 
 " Hush ; That is the duke who takes in her ladyship," 
 whispered Miss Manent, as the Countess swept past. 
 
 " He is neither so handsome nor so great as Sir George 
 Walpole. If I were a man I would be a soldier," returned 
 Daisy. " Now they are all gone, I will descend two steps and 
 look at Michael." 
 
 She did so, while Miss Manent strove to hold her back. 
 There sat Michael, playing mechanically, surrounded by a 
 crowd of be-liveried lackeys. He glanced up, and her nod 
 and smile seemed to inspire him, for the harp instantly pro- 
 duced its natural tones. 
 
 Michael was feeling sadly out of place, and wishing, like 
 Daisy, that he had not come. The sight of her gave him 
 momentary courage, but when she disappeared he relapsed 
 into meditation, and played on dreamily. He thought of old 
 Madoc the harper, and the long weary life he must have led 
 as a dependant on the Earl. He knew that he had been ill- 
 paid and ill-lodged, and that now that he was disabled the 
 Earl grudged him his pittance. Still, while he (Michael) re- 
 placed him, that pittance was secure ; whereas if a fresh harper 
 were hired it might cease, since the Earl was not one to pen-
 
 154 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 sion any but such as could work in return, and Madoc could 
 do nothing but play. Then Michael's thoughts wandered far 
 back to the times when his own ancestors possessed the Castle 
 in which he was playing, and he wondered whether they were 
 more liberal to their musicians than the present Earl. As 
 sounds of revelry reached him from the banqueting-room, and 
 as he glanced in at the magnificent display of plate and covers, 
 of guests and domestics, of portraits and light, his mind grew 
 giddy at the fancies they called up. He was, however, aroused 
 from his dream by a footman, who said sharply, — 
 
 " My lord begs that you will play up ; his lordship has 
 ordered other harpers from Llanmaes and Glandovy, who were 
 to have been here this afternoon, and he is angry that they 
 have not come." 
 
 Michael " played up," and choosing more inspiriting Welsh 
 airs than he had before attempted, sought to compensate for 
 the delay of the other harpers. 
 
 When, at last, the banquet was over, and he saw the guests, 
 as in a dream, now crossing the hall, now entering another long 
 suite of rooms, he paused to gaze on the magic scene. 
 
 " Do you not sometimes play martial music ? " said a voice 
 at his side, and turning, he perceived Sir George Walpole. 
 
 He instantly struck up "The March of the Men of Harlech," 
 into which he threw all his native enthusiasm. Sir George 
 stood by to listen with evident interest, beating time, with one 
 finger of his hand extended. 
 
 '• I scarcely thought there was so much tone in the Welsh 
 harp," he said, when Michael ceased. " But surely I have 
 seen you before ; I seldom forget faces," he added, looking at 
 the harpist. 
 
 " When you did us the honour to call to inquire for Mr. Ap 
 Adam, sir," replied Michael. 
 
 " Ah ! to be sure. Has he returned ? " asked Sir George. 
 
 Michael told him that they had heard nothing of him since 
 he left them, and Sir George attributed his prolonged absence 
 to his own sudden appearance. Then he asked if Michael was
 
 GAIETY AT THE CASTLE. 155 
 
 a harper by profession, and received for answer that he was 
 only acting as proxy. 
 
 "May I ask to be remembered to your kind friends at the 
 farm," he said, as he moved away ; " I am not likely to forget 
 their reception, or the exceeding beauty of your sister." 
 
 He was succeeded by the Earl, who addressed Michael 
 haughtily, though with a certain amount of courtesy. 
 
 "Michael Pennant, Brynhafod, I believe. It was well you 
 came, for the other harpers have disappointed me. They are 
 idle, worthless vagabonds— useless members of society; taking 
 money, and doing nothing in return." 
 
 A servant came up to him. 
 
 " The harpers have come, my lord. They would have ar- 
 rived before, but they have been delayed by the sea-fog. They 
 came by water, and would have been decoyed by false lights 
 and wrecked, but for the witch's fire on the Esgair. The 
 sailors saw it and knew where they were, and so brought them 
 safely to land." 
 
 " What is the witch's fire to me ? Bid them play," said the 
 Earl, with a frown, joining Sir George Walpole ; while Michael 
 offered up a thanksgiving for the safety of the musicians, and 
 wondered what the mysterious light could be. 
 
 Four harpers were ushered into the hall, bearing their harps. 
 One of them was blind, and led by a boy, his grandson. 
 Michael rose, moved his own harp, and yielded his place to 
 him, telling him his name. 
 
 " I am glad to see a grandson of Pennant, Brynhafod," said 
 the old man ; " tell him that, but for the grace of God in whom 
 he trusts, we should have all been dead men this night. The 
 light on the Esgair should be called the angel's, not the witch's 
 fire." 
 
 He was scarcely seated, before the harpers were summoned 
 to the ball-room. Michael said that, as he was no longer 
 wanted, he would go home, but the old man begged him to 
 remain, saying that he was "all of a tremble, and felt as if he 
 could not strike a chord." The others seconded the request, so
 
 156 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Michael accompanied them to the saloon that was to be the 
 scene of the dance. They were all seated on a slightly raised 
 platform at the end of this state apartment, and when Michael 
 had placed himself a little behind the others on the left, he 
 surveyed the scene. The room, the lights, the ladies, the 
 painted ceiling, the fres coed walls, the splendours to which he was 
 so unaccustomed, dazzled him, and he thought of Belshazzar's 
 feast. He scarcely knew why, but reflecting on the character 
 of the Earl, he almost expected to see the writing on the wall. 
 He did not know the tune of the first country dance, so he did 
 not attempt to play it, and was able to watch the performers. 
 Lord Penruddock led it off with some "ladye of high degree," 
 and Michael thought his features were ruffled. The Lady Mona 
 danced with some one equally grand, and looked, according 
 to his judgment, the star of the night. As she sailed down 
 the dance he could think of nothing but a swan — white, stately, 
 soft as down. The Earl and the Countess did not dance ; 
 neither, he remarked, did' Sir George Walpole, who stood apart, 
 with a majestic bearing, heightened by the uniform and orders 
 that he wore. But his cast of countenance in repose was sin 
 gularly melancholy, if not absolutely stern. 
 
 Michael was startled from his observations by the sudden 
 address of Lord Penruddock, who stood slightly below him, 
 and said in English, which he knew the other harpers did not 
 understand, — 
 
 " Where is your sister ? I saw her before dinner, and have 
 since been to look for her to — to— come and see the dancing, 
 but I cannot find her." 
 
 " She is probably gone home, my lord. She was not to 
 stay long." 
 
 "Provoking!" muttered his lordship, and looked as if the 
 light of the evening had gone out for him. 
 
 He had been to seek Daisy, in order to place her in some 
 spot where she might see and not be seen, and where he might 
 speak flattering words to her from time to time ; but she had 
 disappeared.
 
 GAIETY AT THE CASTLE. 157 
 
 Michael was able to play most of the successive dances, and 
 joined the other harpers accordingly. But in the pauses 
 between a country dance and a minuet, he overheard, in part, 
 a conversation not intended for him, and to which he did his 
 best not to listen. This was between the Lady Mona and her 
 cousin, Everard. They had been dancing together, and had 
 stationed themselves near the musicians to be out of the hear- 
 ing of their friends. 
 
 •• I used every argument that one man can use to another 
 Mona," said the gentleman. " But it was of no use. If I had 
 been rich, though as old and ugly as a satyr, your father would 
 have heard ; but being poor, he was as deaf as a post. 1 
 talked for an hour, but all I could get out of him was, ' I am a 
 poor peer, you are a poor soldier. The thing is impossible. 
 I have no money, not a guinea to give her. Everything is 
 entailed on Penruddock. It cannot be, Everard.' At last I 
 got into a passion and called him an old miser, and he turned 
 livid and pointed to the door." 
 
 " Oh, Everard ! What shall we do ? " said Lady Mona in a 
 voice of despair. 
 
 "Run away when you come to London. I see no other 
 chance," whispered Everard. "I must leave the castle to-night. 
 I have promised to spend a few days at Llwynon, and go with 
 the Rices. Perhaps you can prevail on your mother to drive 
 over while I am there. It is death to part thus after our brief 
 happiness." 
 
 " It will, indeed, be death to me. Cannot you speak to 
 Penruddock ? He can do anything with the Earl," said Lady 
 Mona. 
 
 " I have spoken ; and he says your father is bent on your 
 marrying Sir George Walpole, who is a millionaire, and that 
 Sir George is to have no voice in the matter. But Sir George is 
 more than your slave, Mona. Shall riches or love prevail? " 
 
 " Love ! " replied Lady Mona, in a husky, agitated voice, 
 putting her hand into her cousin's. 
 
 He held it a few moments, bent over it, and touched it with
 
 1 58 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 his lips. A faint colour overspread her face, then a deadly 
 pallor. ■ 
 
 " Go ! go ! " she said. The Earl is coming, and Sir George." 
 
 " Let me take you first to my aunt," he said, offering his arm. 
 
 Michael saw that she staggered as she took it, and watched 
 them until they disappeared amongst the crowd. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the Earl came towards the harpers. He 
 looked grim and angry, and they began to fear they had 
 offended. But he singled out Michael, and said in his com- 
 manding way, " Fetch your brother, the doctor. Lady Mona 
 is ill." 
 
 Michael hastened away, and as he ran through the principal 
 entrance, heedless of decorum, he saw Captain Everard jump 
 into a carriage and drive off.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SICKNESS AT THE CASTLE. 
 
 WHEN Captain Everard had left Lady Mona with her 
 mother, he hurried away. She said that she felt faint, 
 and when the Earl and Sir George Walpole joined them, they 
 took her to an adjoining room, where she immediately fainted. 
 It was at Sir George's suggestion that Caradoc was summoned. 
 He said th.it the young man had been assistant to his physician 
 in London, and since no other doctor was at hand, he would 
 probably be efficient enough. The Earl rejoined grimly that 
 she was used to fainting; but that he had no objection to send 
 for Pennant. Morris was summoned, who was accustomed to 
 Lady Mona's attacks, and when they had sufficiently restored 
 her, they led her to her room. The Earl and Countess after- 
 wards returned to their guests, and the festivities continued 
 until morning. 
 
 When Caradoc arrived, the company were beginning to 
 disperse. The quadrangular court was crowded with carriages, 
 through which he had to thread ; for he did not go to the 
 postern door, but took the nearest and easiest road. This 
 caused him to meet Sir George Walpole, who was sauntering 
 about uneasily. 
 
 " I am glad you are come, for she is worse than they imagine," 
 he said. 
 
 He led Caradoc into one of the suites of rooms, lately the 
 scene of so much gaiety, and told him to wait while he sought 
 the Countess. Thus Caradoc had a few moments for observation 
 and reflection. In the twilight of the previous evening he had 
 been lighting his lantern on the Esgair, and had subseepjently 
 
 '59
 
 l60 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 met the harpers, whom the beacon had, under almighty Provi- 
 dence, saved. Then he had watched near the castle for Daisy, 
 and had returned home with her. Sitting up for Michael, he 
 had pondered over his possible future, and was suddenly 
 aroused from his dream by the information that he was needed 
 professionally by the Earl's daughter. Professionally ! The 
 honour would be accounted great by all who heard of it, and 
 his fortune be credited as begun. As he stood awaiting the 
 comers, he glanced down the suite of rooms, usually so gloomy, 
 and saw what life and light had done to transform them. In 
 his ardent desire to benefit mankind, he thought what scope 
 there was for good in that ancient Castle, and the money that 
 its lands produced. 
 
 " This is the young man whom I ventured to recommend to 
 your ladyship as having been with the celebrated Dr. Moore," 
 said Sir George Walpole, as he and the Countess came in. 
 
 Caradoc bowed, and Lady Craigavon made a slight inclina- 
 ation, as she threw herself on a sofa. He stood before her, tall, 
 lithe, and handsome. Sir George stood also. She asked the 
 latter to ring the bell, and, when it was answered, ordered 
 Morris to be summoned. She was herself evidently overcome 
 by the fatigue and anxiety of the day. Sir George left the room, 
 and was succeeded by the Earl, who acknowledged Caradoc's 
 bow by a stiff nod, and went to the Countess to inquire if she 
 were ill. Knowing him only as the stern, avaricious Lord of 
 Craigavon, he was surprised to hear a sound of tenderness in 
 his usually hard, deep voice as he spoke to his wife. 
 
 " Feel her pulse," he said sternly to Caradoc. 
 
 " Her ladyship is fatigued. She will be better for rest," 
 returned the young doctor. 
 
 " I am only alarmed for Mona," she said to the Earl, holding 
 out her hand. 
 
 Morris came, and was ordered to help her ladyship to her 
 room and return. When they were gone, Lord Craigavon said 
 to Caradoc, — 
 
 " Lady Mona Penruddock is merely nervous. You must
 
 SICKNESS AT THE CASTLE. l6l 
 
 not humour her. If she speaks of engaging the young woman 
 who lives at your house as maid to accompany her to town, 
 discourage it ; for she is not to go." 
 
 '"' Your lordship may depend on my doing so ; for my father 
 and mother would not allow their adopted daughter to visit 
 London under such circumstances," replied Caradoc, flushing. 
 
 "Good," said the Earl, less authoritatively; then, after a 
 pause, added, " You are not a physician, I suppose ? " 
 
 ''Only a surgeon as yet, my lord." 
 
 The Earl put the guinea he held in his hand into his pocket. 
 
 " See Lady Craigavon again, and send medicine if necessary," 
 he ordered, as Morris returned. 
 
 Caradoc followed her to Lady Mona's apartment. He found 
 the Countess there, and mother and daughter were in tears. 
 He noted the fact, but said nothing. Having felt Lady Mona's 
 pulse, and extracted from her a few ungracious replies to such 
 queries as he deemed necessary, he went with Morris to another 
 room, where such medicines were stored as she had been in the 
 habit of taking. He mixed two simple composing draughts, 
 and ordered them to be administered to his unexpected patients. 
 
 "Well, some people have the luck!" exclaimed Morris. 
 "Who could have thought that you, Caradoc Pennant, would 
 have been prescribing for their ladyships ? " 
 
 Caradoc smiled ; and Morris said inwardly, " To be sure he 
 is a very fine young man, though he does belong to them stuck- 
 up Pennants." He asked if he were to come again on the 
 morrow, and she went to inquire, returning with a request that 
 he would go back to Lady Mona. 
 
 " Tell Daisy to be ready, for we are going to London almost 
 immediately," Lady Mona whispered. 
 
 " I will give your ladyship's message," he answered, fearing 
 to excite her, then, by contradiction. 
 
 " And come again to-morrow, or rather this afternoon," said 
 the Countess, languidly. 
 
 li Might I suggest that your ladyship should go to bed," he 
 replied, with a kind of pity in his voice.
 
 1 62 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 She glanced at him, sharply, for her, and nodded an affirmative. 
 As he bowed himself out he was struck with the picture before 
 him. Dawn was creeping in through the lozenge-shaped panes 
 of the small, deep windows, and seemed to replace the flicker- 
 ing light of the waning candles. Lady Mona lay, pale and fair, 
 beneath the heavy damask curtains of her huge bed ; while the 
 Countess, in the velvet and diamonds already described, reclined 
 on a couch by her side. Morris was folding the white satin 
 dress, cast aside in a moment of faintness, and forgotten since ; 
 and a pet dog w 7 as curled up in a flannelled bed on an easy- 
 chair. He remarked that there was no fire in the grate, and 
 paused to say that Lady Mona must be kept warm. He did 
 not know that the Earl strongly objected to a superfluity of 
 fires, as tending to weaken the constitution — -as he put it 
 His own was of iron. It was his habit to cast the burden of 
 his own sins on other people and things. He thus considered 
 himself irresponsible. 
 
 He was pacing the corridor heavily when Caradoc passed 
 down it. 
 
 " How are they ?" he asked, abruptly. 
 
 " Better, my lord," replied Caradoc, curtly. 
 
 " I suppose you have ceased to be inquisitive, and can hold 
 your tongue ? " said the Earl, evidently recalling the Tower. 
 
 " I am still scientifically inquisitive, but I can be silent, my 
 lord," returned Caradoc. 
 
 ; ' Then come and see them again. Good-night." 
 
 Caradoc passed on, and finally reached the hall. Here he 
 was met by Lord Penruddock, who, without speaking, ac- 
 companied him'into the court. 
 
 " What fools women are ! What on earth is the matter ? " 
 ne asked, when they were out of earshot. 
 
 " I hope they are better," said Caradoc. 
 
 " Why should they be ill ? They have been dying of ennui 
 for years, and now they have amusement they are dying of 
 gaiety. What is best for them ? " 
 
 '•An entire change, perhaps."
 
 SICKNESS AT THE CASTLE. 1 63 
 
 "They are about to have it — and, by the way, tell your sister, 
 or the little waif, Daisy — she is a large waif now, — that Lady 
 Mona is bent on her going to London. Do you remember 
 when her dog brought in her doll ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, my lord." 
 
 " She will make a furore in town, with her beauty and her 
 costume. You will scarcely get her back again." 
 
 Lord Penruddock glanced at Caradoc with a sort of careless 
 impertinence, not quite natural to him, and received a look of 
 proud indifference in return. 
 
 " Daisy Pennant is not likely to make a furore in London," 
 said Caradoc ; " the great world would be too grand for her, and 
 she would be too good for it." 
 
 "You have not outgrown your ill manners, sir, nor your 
 determination to browbeat your betters," said his lordship, hotly. 
 " Perhaps you also remember the Eagle's nest ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord — and the Tower," replied Caradoc, with an 
 involuntary smile. 
 
 Lord Penruddock coloured. 
 
 " You remind me, sir, of an event in my life which caused me 
 some regret and anger at the time, as well as of an unpaid debt. 
 I owe you and your dog my life, as well as salvation from a 
 hasty act that might have cost your or your brother's life. Tell 
 me in what way I can repay you." 
 
 This was said with a manner so haughty that it seemed rather 
 like conferring than having received a benefit. Yet, in after- 
 years, Caradoc was glad that the words had been spoken, and 
 that he had answered them calmly. 
 
 "I had nearly forgotten that scene, my lord. Yours was a 
 mere boyish outbreak, mine a natural impulse. If God made 
 me an instrument for good to you, I am thankful, and need no 
 reward." 
 
 Their eyes met — Caradoc's steadfast, luminous, far-seeing ; 
 Penruddock's turbid and eager. They were walking hastily 
 onward in the mist of the early morning, and had reached the 
 bridge across the rapid brook.
 
 164 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " You Pennants are too independent ; you will not let one 
 do you a good turn if one would," said Penruddock, pausing 
 
 " Should the time come when we need it, my lord, I will not 
 fail to ask you," returned Caradoc. 
 
 " Be it so," said Lord Penruddock, and seemed about to 
 add more. 
 
 He was really sorry for the part he had played in his 
 encounters with the Pennants before he went to Eton, and was 
 desirous of saying so, but pride held him back. He had never 
 been taught humility, and it was not in him either by nature or 
 inheritance. Moreover, he wished to subdue Caradoc's spirit 
 to his will, and did not know that his best chance was first to 
 subdue his own. He felt, however, that he had stooped suffi- 
 ciently to an inferior, so he restrained a better impulse and 
 returned to Daisy. 
 
 " My mother and sister will be annoyed and offended if 
 Miss Daisy does not accompany them to London," he said. 
 
 " Not so the Earl," replied Caradoc. 
 
 " His objections will cease when I represent the case, 
 and " 
 
 " My lord, the time of need has come sooner than we ex- 
 pected," interrupted Caradoc hastily ; " I claim your so recently 
 made promise. I beg you will not interfere in this matter." 
 
 Again the hot blood rushed to Penruddock's cheeks, and he 
 put himself in an attitude of defiance, as he muttered an oath 
 and exclaimed, " Dog in the manger ! you want her all to 
 yourself." 
 
 Caradoc's blood rose also. 
 
 " She belongs to us, my lord, and we will protect her from 
 harm. She might have belonged to you had the Earl been 
 pleased to claim her as wreckage. Good-morning to your 
 lordship." 
 
 Caradoc's manner was as haughty as Lord Penruddock's, 
 who clenched his fist and levelled a blow at him ; but he 
 turned and walked away. He had crossed the brook and was 
 half-way up the hill before his lordship gained composure.
 
 SICKNESS AT THE CASTLE. 1 65 
 
 " Impertinent clodhopper ! " the latter exclaimed, looking 
 after him. " And he has nailed me to silence. Nevertheless, 
 I will compass my end and frustrate his, even though I keep 
 my promise. Why does the fellow interest while he angers me? 
 And why do they all twit me about that horrible tithe of death 
 and destruction ? I abhor the place, the people, almost my 
 own father, and but for Mona should never have come back. 
 Now I am chained to the soil by one of the very waifs whose 
 name I hate. I can no more tear myself away than the veriest 
 slave in the market of Constantinople. By heavens ! if Caradoc 
 Pennant come between us I will call him out. Him ! — a farmer's 
 son ! Fight a duel with a paltry compounder of drugs, about 
 a— a— Ah, Daisy ! I find no word. The queenliest, fairest, 
 purest flower of the mountains ! " 
 
 When Caradoc reached home, Daisy was on the look-out for 
 him. She inquired anxiously for Lady Mona, and when told 
 that she was really indisposed, was much distressed. Caradoc 
 gave her the message concerning London, and watched its 
 effect. She looked rather perplexed than pleased. They went 
 together into the hall, where his breakfast was awaiting him, 
 the rest of the family having taken theirs, and Michael being 
 still in bed. Daisy remained to wait upon him, and he, for- 
 getful of his meal, began to talk of what was uppermost in his 
 mind, which was still excited by his encounter with Lord 
 Penruddock. 
 
 " Do you wish to go to London, Daisy ? " he asked. 
 
 " I should like to see that great city of which I have heard 
 so much, of course, Carad," she replied; "and I should wish 
 to please Lady Mona, who is ill, and has been kind to me; 
 but " she paused and coloured. 
 
 " Yes, Daisy ; but what ? " 
 
 " I think I am best at home." 
 
 Caradoc understood her reticence, but dared not ask her 
 reasons. They were both silent, and he began his breakfast. 
 She was the first to speak again. 
 
 " Had you been in London, I should have striven to go — ■
 
 166 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 indeed, my heart was set upon it while you were there. But 
 now we are all so happy together that I seem no longer to 
 think of the Tower, and the Monument, and the Abbey, and 
 St. Paul's, and all the other grand sights of which I had been 
 dreaming. I might have visited them with you." 
 
 " Not from the Earl's mansion, Daisy : I should scarcely 
 have been admitted there, and you would probably be a 
 prisoner at the caprice of Lady Mona. Should you care to 
 be considered, by the outer world at least, her ladyship's 
 maid?" 
 
 " Certainly not, Carad ; Morris is her maid. I should be 
 her — what should I be? Scarcely her friend, or even her 
 companion. I had not considered this point. I should cer- 
 tainly not wish to accompany the Castle household in any 
 doubtful capacity." 
 
 "You are right, Daisy. Better be first at the farm than last 
 at the Castle, whatever the temptations." 
 
 " But they say I am spoilt here, and I think I am. Besides, 
 when I pause to consider, I feel that even here I have no right 
 to be first." 
 
 Caradoc looked quickly and reproachfully at Daisy, who was 
 seated on the settle opposite to him, her elbow on one of its 
 arms. She understood the glance. 
 
 "Right ! — oh, Daisy !" he ejaculated. 
 
 She trembled beneath his expressive eyes. 
 
 "Forgive me, Carad; it was you who brought me here, and 
 I have had, oh, such a happy life !" 
 
 "And will, I hope, to the end." 
 
 Why did they sigh and look aside? And why did Caradoc 
 hastily finish his breakfast and inquire for his brother ? "To 
 the end !" The words were so suggestive that he wished .he 
 had not used them, while she shaded her eyes, and wondered 
 what that end would be. Then, slowly rising, she said gravely, 
 
 " We must pray for direction in all things. I have been 
 proud and hasty concerning Lady Mona, yet I desire to be 
 humble. Why cannot I be humble, Carad?"
 
 SICKNESS AT THE CASTLE. \6j 
 
 " I am always asking myself the same question, Daisy, but 
 the ' flesh warreth against the spirit,' " he replied. 
 
 " Grandfather and Michael are gifted with a grand humility. 
 I am afraid the rest of us are high-minded. Even mother, 
 who is so gentle, is proud — proud of you, Carad ; and yet she 
 does not know as much of you as I do, for she believes in the 
 witch's fire. Under Providence, you saved a ship last night." 
 
 Daisy went impulsively up to Caradoc and held out her 
 hand. As he took it, his face flushed ; he uttered the one 
 word, "Sister," and hastily left the room. 
 
 Shortly after he had a conversation with his father con- 
 cerning her visit to London. He told him discreetly of the 
 elements at work at the Castle ; of the wish of the ladies, and 
 counter-commands of the Earl ; but he did not mention Lord 
 Penruddock, because he knew that his father was hot-tempered, 
 like himself, and might add fuel to the fire he had already 
 kindled. David Pennant laughed his hearty laugh at the com- 
 plication Daisy had caused. 
 
 " What can they want with a country lass ? " he said. " It 
 is but the fancy of a spoilt child, and Lady Mona would tire 
 of her in a week. As to the Earl, poor coward ! he shall be 
 free of blame. Put it all upon me; my shoulders are broad 
 enough. Say that I will not part with her. Tell them, if you 
 will, that I hope she will soon have a husband to keep her at 
 home, and, meanwhile, her father forbids her going into the 
 wicked London world." 
 
 Caradoc started. 
 
 " A husband ! what do you mean, father ? " 
 
 " Michael, of course. What else ? " 
 
 Caradoc asked no more questions ; but he had a difficult 
 part to play with Lady Mona when he went to see her and her 
 mother that afternoon. Discretion, firmness, tenderness are a 
 doctor's watchwords. They were Caradoc's. Though young 
 in years he was old in thought, and the first wish of his heart 
 was to benefit his fellow-creatures. He had been taught his 
 duty to God and his neighbour from earliest infancy, and how
 
 l63 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 best to do it was his constant question with himself. He tried 
 to realize his grandfather's frequent advice, "Work to-day, 
 leave to-morrow, lad." But he had aspirations that overleapt 
 the boundary of to-day, and he could not do it. It is difficult 
 for the young to live by the day, though best for all. 
 
 He found his patients better, but still languid and depressed. 
 They were in the Countess's boudoir, not having as yet joined 
 their guests. 
 
 "You gave my message to Daisy?" said Lady Mona, when 
 the customary questions had been put and answered. 
 
 "Yes; and she was much obliged for your ladyship's kind 
 wish. But my father thinks her too young and inexperienced 
 to leave home, and hopes you will be so good as to receive her 
 excuses." 
 
 " I shall certainly receive no excuses : she must come ! " 
 exclaimed Lady Mona, roused at once. " Did you ever hear 
 such a thing, mamma? Refuse me ! — refuse us !" 
 
 " I daresay Mr. Pennant will relent, love," said the Countess. 
 
 " Relent, indeed ! Tell him we insist on her coming. 
 Tell her I wish to see her to-morrow afternoon. I will take 
 no denial." 
 
 Lady Mona burst into hysterical crying. 
 
 "Your 'ladyship must compose yourself," said Caradoc, 
 sitting down beside her. forgetful that he had not been told to 
 be seated. " If you weaken yourself by hysteria you will be 
 unfit for the long journey to London." 
 
 He intended no artifice by his words, not knowing how 
 intensely she longed for this journey; but they took instan- 
 taneous effect. 
 
 "You will fit me for it?" she cried, calming herself; "and 
 you will send Daisy here to-morrow. I shall ask her myself. 
 Parents are hard and cruel, and think little of our wishes." 
 
 She was breaking down again, when Caradoc said, kindly 
 but firmly — 
 
 " I can promise your ladyship nothing unless you resist this 
 weakness , I can cure you in a few days if you do."
 
 SICKNESS AT THE CASTLE. 1 69 
 
 " And let Daisy accompany us to London ? " 
 
 " That I must leave between her and my father ? " 
 
 "You will send her here to-morrow?" 
 
 " I will tell her that your ladyship wishes to see her." 
 
 Lady Mona perceived that she had to deal with one strongei 
 than herself. She glanced at him haughtily, and he rose, 
 reminded that he was seated unasked. 
 
 Lady Craigavon suggested aether and other remedies. 
 
 " Her ladyship's own will is the best curative. I will send 
 some medicine," he said, going towards her. 
 
 " And Daisy?" whispered the Countess. 
 
 " I have no doubt she will come to-morrow; but my father 
 objects to her visiting London," he replied, in a low tone. 
 
 "You will come again, of course?" 
 
 " Certainly, if your ladyship wishes." 
 
 And Caradoc left the mother and daughter with a great pity 
 at his heart.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 PROJECTED ELOPEMENTS. 
 
 THE Earl made the most of the illness of his wife and 
 daughter, in order to be rid of his guests without 
 incivility. The only one he pressed to remain was Sir George 
 Walpole, whom he invited to accompany his family and himself 
 to London. 
 
 Accordingly, when Daisy went to see Lady Mona, the 
 Castle had returned to its customary quietude. She found 
 her alone. Her manner towards her was much changed, and 
 Daisy was conscious that the refusal to allow her to accompany 
 her ladyship to London had caused the change. Caradoc had 
 been at the Castle before her, and had repeated Mr. Pennant's 
 determination. 
 
 " I believe no tenant has ever so thwarted our wishes before," 
 said Lady Mona, haughtily ; " your foster-father will probably 
 repent his obstinacy." 
 
 " I am sorry to displease or disappoint you," replied Daisy, 
 " but I should be quite useless to your ladyship." 
 
 " On the contrary, you are the only person I know who 
 could help me in an emergency ; the only one I could trust." 
 
 Daisy looked surprised, but made no comment. 
 
 " If I confide to you how you could be of such service to 
 me, will you promise secrecy on your oath?" continued Lady 
 Mona, excitedly. 
 
 " I could not swear, my lady ; and I never had a secret to 
 keep in " 
 
 Daisy paused, remembering the Esgair.
 
 PROJECTED ELOPEMENTS. 17 1 
 
 " Uh ! you also have your secret. You also are in love, and 
 will sympathise with me !" exclaimed Lady Mona. while Daisy 
 grew crimson. " You will, at least, promise not to betray me, 
 if I tell you all ; and then you will, I am sure, go with me and 
 help me." 
 
 " I will certainly never betray your ladyship. Whatever you 
 think fit to tell me shall be sacred, but " 
 
 " I will have no buts. You must be my friend and help me. 
 for I am driven to despair." 
 
 Then Lady Mona told Daisy of her love for her cousin 
 Everard, and her father's disapproval of it ; told her that the 
 Earl was bent on her marrying the rich Sir George Walpole, 
 who had not even proposed for her, and that she was resolved 
 to marry Everard, come what would. 
 
 Daisy hbtened in silence and sympathy. She felt that Lady 
 Mona must be in some strange strait thus to make her a confi- 
 dante, and waited to hear further. 
 
 " Have you nothing to say ? " asked Lady Mona, vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 " I grieve for your ladyship with all my heart," replied Daisy 
 " But how can I help you?" 
 
 "By coming with us to London ; taking Morris's place, who 
 shall go and visit her friends; supplying also Miss Manent's 
 place, who has another situation ready, and helping me to elope 
 with Captain Everard." 
 
 Lady Mona seized Daisy's arm and fixed her eyes upon her. 
 She was quite beside herself, and looked so wild and excited 
 that Daisy was terrified. 
 
 "Speak, girl ! " she cried, shaking the arm roughly. 
 
 "I do not know what to say; I do not understand you," 
 returned Daisy, as calmly as she could. 
 
 " To elope means to run away and be married privately ; 
 or to post to Gretna Green and be married in the Scotch 
 Bordeiland. Hundreds of girls do it who have cruel fathers, 
 and few have so hard and miserly a one as I have." 
 
 " But he is your father, dear Lady Mona, and they say he
 
 172 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 loves you," replied Daisy, simply, pity mixed with a sort of 
 reproach in her voice. 
 
 " It is useless to argue. I have not been immured here all 
 these years without knowing that he would sell me and his 
 soul for gold !" 
 
 "Hush, Lady Mona ! I cannot listen to such words," in- 
 terrupted Daisy. " You forget that I am a country girl, 
 beneath you in rank, unused to confidences, and unacquainted 
 with the great world." 
 
 "You have education and sense, and are a woman. Oh, 
 Daisy ! will you not help me ? " 
 
 This appeal was followed by a passionate burst of tears. 
 In her momentary abandonment and blind passion, Lady 
 Mona forgot all differences of position, and threw herself into 
 Daisy's arms. 
 
 " Do all who love suffer thus ? " Daisy thought, as she 
 listened to the sobs and felt the throbbing of the heart. 
 
 "Have you seen him — my cousin Everard ?" asked Lady 
 Mona, suddenly, rousing herself, and withdrawing from Daisy. 
 
 " Once, with my Lord Penruddock," replied Daisy, casting 
 down her eyes ; for she remembered how both gentlemen had 
 stood to watch her as she passed them by on horseback. 
 
 " Did you ever see any one so handsome ? " asked Lady 
 Mona. " Answer me." 
 
 " I think my brother Carad," replied Daisy. 
 
 " He cannot be compared with Captain Everard," said Lady 
 Mona, resuming her natural hauteur. "Now, Daisy, you will 
 go with me to town ? " 
 
 " I cannot ; and if I went, I should not dare to help your 
 ladyship to disobey your parents." 
 
 Lady Mona rose, and took her by the shoulder. 
 
 " Should not dare ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 ' I should not dare to aid you to break God's command- 
 ments." 
 
 Daisy rose aLo. They stood face to face ; Lady Mona 
 flushed, impassioned, angry ; Daisy flashed, also, but firm.
 
 PROJECTED ELOPEMENTS. 173 
 
 " If Pennant of Brynhafod consents, you will go?" 
 
 " No, my lady. I should be neither a fitting maid nor 
 companion to your ladyship. And in neither state could I 
 abet you in leaving your home secretly. Oh ! think well 
 before you do it. I am but an ignorant girl ; still I know 
 that if you pray to God, He will direct you ; and perhaps in 
 time the Earl may consent. Indeed, indeed, I grieve for you, 
 and will also pray that you may be preserved from this great 
 temptation." 
 
 " If you will not help me, I am lost," groaned Lady Mona. 
 " I could not trust Morris ; and Miss Manent is dull as yonder 
 heavy clouds. You, a poor foundling, cast ashore on our 
 land, to resist me ! I wonder I have so far lowered myself 
 as thus to confide in you." 
 
 " Oh, if you had not, Lady Mona ! but your secret is safe 
 with me," returned Daisy, with dignity. 
 
 " Go, go ! " cried Lady Mona, pointing to the door. 
 
 " I cannot leave your ladyship in anger. Perhaps we may 
 never meet again," said Daisy, humbly. " It will be evening 
 soon ; and at the farm we never let the sun go down upon our 
 wrath. Forgive me, if I have offended you." 
 
 Lady Mona glanced at Daisy's beautiful pathetic face, and 
 covering her own with her hands, sank down upon the sofa. 
 Daisy knelt by her side, and, clasping her hands, prayed for 
 her. 
 
 "You are good, Daisy; I am bad," said Lady Mona after 
 a long pause. "You are happier than I. But since you will 
 not help me, you had better go." 
 
 " I will pray that you may be permitted to marry your cousin 
 Everard," said Daisy, rising. 
 
 " I shall marry him, permitted or not," rejoined her com- 
 panion, whose mood had changed again. 
 
 " If I went to London with you ?" asked Daisy. 
 
 " Certainly. I want you to help me. You, who have lived 
 a free life that I have envied hundreds of times, might lend 
 a hand to liberate me. The peasant who covets my wealth,
 
 174 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 little knows how I covet his poverty. To be free — only to be 
 free ! " 
 
 " Dear Lady Mona ! " sighed Daisy. 
 
 " Pray do not call me dear — you, who will not aid me. 
 Yet, good-bye ; and thank you for helping me to pass many 
 weary hours cheerfully. I know you will keep my secret ; for 
 if you are hard as steel, you are also as true." 
 
 It was now Daisy's turn to break down. She could bear 
 the reproaches, but not the kindness. 
 
 " There is nothing that I would not do for you, if only I 
 could tell my father and mother. I cannot deceive them," she 
 said, her tears falling fast. 
 
 " Hush ! some one is coming," exclaimed Lady Mona 
 "They must not see that you are crying. Run down the 
 west passage, then home by the beach. I will let you 
 through." 
 
 They went down a narrow corridor that led from the ladies' 
 apartments to a private entrance into the gardens, thence to a 
 gate which opened on a path down the cliffs. They stood 
 here a moment — the frowning Castle above, and the sea and 
 caves below. 
 
 " Good-bye, Daisy," said Lady Mona, holding out her hand. 
 
 " May the Lord bless and guide you, my lady ! " returned 
 Daisy, through her sobs and tears. 
 
 Before she reached the bottom of the cliff she turned, to 
 see Lady Mona standing where she had left her. They waved 
 their hands to one another, and then Daisy wandered slowly 
 and sadly on to the beach. She sat down to compose herself 
 and think over what had passed, before she took the road 
 from Ton Bay to the farm. She felt so much pity for Lady 
 Mona that she would willingly have accompanied her to 
 London, or elsewhere, if she could really have served her. 
 But when she considered her words, she was convinced that 
 she was wanted more as a tool than a friend, and her frank 
 soul revolted from all deceit, especially filial. She was even 
 unhappy because her foster-parents were unacquainted with
 
 They waved their hands to one another." 
 
 {Page 174.
 
 PROJECTED ELOPEMENTS. I 75 
 
 the mystery of the Esgair, even though it was maintained to 
 prevent their getting into trouble with the Earl. A secret was 
 ever a burden to her, though she had a second to keep, which 
 would, she feared, weigh down her conscience. She asked 
 herself whether she ought not to warn some one of this 
 projected elopement, but she could not break her promise. 
 Besides, young and inexperienced as she was, she believed 
 that Lady Mona, who had hitherto passed but a dreary exist- 
 ence, would be happy with her cousin and love, and she 
 could not find it in her heart to wish her married contrary to 
 her inclination, or condemned to the Castle for life. Her 
 glimpses of aristocratic existence had not been rose-coloured, 
 though she had sense enough to perceive that it was the 
 character of the people that influenced the life, much more 
 than the life the people. " Were I rich and great," she 
 thought, " I should find happiness in making others happy." 
 
 Her tears were scarcely dried when her reverie was broken 
 by the appearance of Lord Penruddock. He had heard of 
 her visit to the Castle, and had been watching for an oppor- 
 tunity to meet her alone. Tired of waiting, he had sought 
 her in his sister's rooms, whence he had followed her to the 
 beach. She rose, and was about to pass him with a curtsey, 
 but he joined her. She quickened her pace, and he did the 
 same. He asked her why she had run away from the Castle 
 on the day of the ball, and she told him that she had had no 
 intention of remaining after she had seen the Countess and 
 Lady Mona. He tried one or two other subjects, but receiving 
 only monosyllables in return, he dashed so suddenly into the 
 one nearest his heart that she was startled into a prompt reply. 
 
 " What has my sister settled concerning your going with us 
 to London ? " he asked. 
 
 " I have told her ladyship decidedly that I cannot accom- 
 pany her," she answered. 
 
 " Then I shall not go," he said, with apparent carelessness, 
 yet looking at her inquiringly. " Daisy, I cannot tear myself 
 from the place where you live."
 
 176 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 She made no comment on this assertion, but hurried on. 
 
 " Why do you walk so fast ? I am serious, and you must 
 hear me while I have the opportunity of speaking to you 
 alone." 
 
 " It is getting late, my lord, and I am expected at Bryn- 
 hafod," she rejoined calmly, not slackening her pace. 
 
 They reached the road to the farm from the bay, and he 
 laid his hand on her arm, repeating that he had something 
 important to say to her. She paused and listened. 
 
 " When I was a boy 1 chanced to come to this bay, when 
 your big dog brought in a tattered doll from a wreck. That 
 insolent coxcomb, Caradoc Pennant — insolent then as now — 
 carried it off, and said it was yours. His father made some 
 impertinent remark to mine concerning waifs, which I have 
 not forgotten. I little thought then, however, that the owner 
 of the doll would grow up into the girl who was to gain entire 
 ascendency over me, body and soul ; whose presence is the 
 light of my life — whose absence is night ! Daisy, I love you !" 
 
 " I scarcely understand you, my lord. Your words are 
 strange, and not seemly from your lordship to me," said 
 Daisy, withdrawing as much as she could, and speaking with 
 fearless composure. 
 
 " Why not seemly ? Your appearance and manners tell 
 that you are a lady, and I, as a gentleman, address you as an 
 equal. If what I say is strange, I rejoice, because no one can 
 have been before me, and I shall hope to win the first blush 
 of your love." 
 
 Daisy was silent awhile. Lord Penruddock's manner was 
 respectful, if impetuous, and there was something in her heart 
 that told her he was sincere. As she stood, her hand on the 
 rough fence that separated her from the road, her face to the 
 sea and him, she saw an expression in his countenance that 
 spoke for him. At last her words came : 
 
 " My lord, 1 can never be your equal, for I have neither 
 name nor position. I never stand on this spot without trying 
 to picture the scene when, in the dead of night, and amid
 
 PROJECTED ELOPEMENTS. 177 
 
 the howling of the tempest, Gwylfa and my brother Carad 
 rescued me from the waves." — Here she blushed uncon- 
 sciously.—" I see him carry me up this path to the farm, and my 
 dear mother receive me. I know how they have adopted me, 
 and loved me as their own, ever since that hour, when my own 
 parents were swallowed up, perhaps, by yonder sea. They are 
 so good as to consider me their equal ; yours I can never be." 
 
 " By heavens ! you are far superior to any girl I have ever 
 seen, and I have had good experience," said Lord Penruddock. 
 " You are a queen in beauty and bearing, and shall be my 
 queen and future Countess of Craigavon, if only — " (he 
 paused) — " if only you will consent to be mine." 
 
 Again Daisy said she did not understand him ; nor did she, 
 for she could not believe that he would marry a nameless 
 foundling. 
 
 "Then I will speak plainly," he continued. "As long as 
 my father lives I am dependent on him, but he has never 
 resisted my will for long. If you will elope with me, and marry 
 me privately, I shall soon bring him round to forgive us both, 
 and then you will be in the place for which nature, and possibly 
 birth, intended you." 
 
 Daisy understood him now — for had she not that same after- 
 noon been asked to assist in another elopement ? Why was 
 she, a country girl, suddenly initiated into the ways of the 
 great world in this twofold manner ? Again she flushed and 
 feared — for she was unused to such scenes, and no one had ever 
 said to her before, in so many words, " Daisy, I love you ! " 
 And they made her heart beat rapidly, for she felt their 
 mysterious responsibility. She trembled lest she should excite 
 Lord Penruddock as she had excited his sister, and she glanced 
 round in the vague hope of seeing a friend. Her eyes fell on 
 Gwylfa, quietly pursuing his usual way to the beach. She called 
 him, and the old dog was soon at her side, eyeing Lord Penrud- 
 dock suspiciously. His lordship hated the dog as he hated his 
 master, remembering only his resistance to his will, and not 
 his benefit. Daisy stooped over him, and Lord Penruddock, 
 
 N
 
 I7# THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 impelled by passion, put his arm round her waist. She started 
 back, and Gwylfa growled ominously as he stood between them. 
 
 " My lord," said Daisy, now really majestic as the queen he 
 had called her, " I cannot elope with you. If you are in earnest, 
 I desire to thank you for — for — your " 
 
 "Say love — devotion — worship !" broke in his lordship. 
 
 " But," she continued, " I hope to live and die with the 
 Pennants of Brynhafod, once, I am told, also the Pennants 
 of Craigavon. Good-bye, my lord." 
 
 Before he coull answer, she and Gwylfa had cleared the 
 slight fence, and were in the road ; and, while he was blindly 
 following, they had scaled a rocky path, and were out of sight 
 before he secured a footing on it. 
 
 " I will have her, if I marry her before the world in the 
 parish church ! " he cried. " I never loved a girl so well 
 before — never felt that I could compass friend and foe, earth 
 and heaven, to get her. I will even make my father consent. 
 As to the Pennants, it shall go hard with them if they refuse. 
 I shall go mad if they resist me. I am mad — idiotic — out of 
 my mind ! What would the world say ? — and what do I care ? 
 What are all the women in all the countries I have visited — in 
 all the capitals of Europe — in all the vortex of society — to one 
 Daisy ? "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THREAT OF EJECTION. 
 
 A FEW days before the one fixed for the journey to town of 
 the Castle family, Mr. Pennant went to pay the Earl his 
 rent, and to speak of various matters connected with his farm and 
 the parish generally. Having satisfied the Earl to the utmost 
 farthing in the matter of money, he began the subject of restor- 
 ing the church and vicarage house. 
 
 " I told Mr. Tudor that the parish could do it. I am at 
 present too poor," said the Earl. 
 
 " I am afraid the parish is poorer, my lord. I have sounded 
 the farmers, and we are all willing to do what we can ; but our 
 ' all ' falls short of the mark," returned Pennant. 
 
 "Then the repairs must stand over." 
 
 " But the church is in a sad state, and the house falling to 
 pieces. We want the parson there, my lord. With the blessing 
 of God, the Monad people would improve — are improving, 
 indeed — and if he were near, he and my son and daughter, and 
 the vicar's lady, maybe, would go far towards teaching them to 
 give up their bad practices. If they set the example, the rest 
 of this notorious coast would, perhaps, follow it by degrees." 
 
 " That is no affair of mine." 
 
 " Then I must make so bold as to say that it should be, my 
 lord ; since you are lord of the manor. But if you decline, it 
 rests with me, and, God willing, I will set to work. We can 
 get funds for the vicarage, if not for the church. Will your 
 lordship find another place for the keeper?" 
 
 " I have no other place. He must remain where he is."
 
 I SO THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Mr. Pennant made an exclamation that startled the Earl into 
 looking at him for a moment. He had hitherto kept his eyes 
 riveted on some papers that strewed the table at which he sat. 
 The farmer's indignation showed itself in his face as he said — 
 
 " I should be sorry to resist your lordship, but I must, as 
 churchwarden, take this into my own hands, and request the 
 man to look out for himself, and leave the vicarage." 
 
 "You had better rest a few months. I believe your office 
 and lease run out together at Easter, and then " 
 
 The grim Earl paused. 
 
 " Yes, my lord. I am to be re-appointed churchwarden, 
 and I was just going to speak of renewing the lease." 
 
 "I do not mean to renew it."' 
 
 Pennant started, but the Earl kept his eyes on the paper. 
 
 " Not renew our lease ! What do you mean, my lord ? " 
 
 "That I have other views concerning Brynhafod, and shall 
 not lease it again." 
 
 " Am I to understand that you will not renew the lease 
 which my father and grandfather had from yours ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then how are we to rent it, my lord ? " 
 
 " You will leave it, if you please." 
 
 " Leave a place that we have inhabited and farmed for 
 generations — that was once our own — that we have centupled 
 in value ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And wherefore, my lord ? " 
 
 " I intend to manage it myself." 
 
 Pennant was silent from pain and astonishment. People had 
 warned him of this, but he had not believed it. He was a hot- 
 tempered man, and knew that if he spoke at once he should 
 speak passionately. And, in spite of himself, his righteous 
 wrath burst forth before the Earl and he parted. He resumed, 
 however, with tolerable composure. 
 
 " I suppose your lordship will, at least, let us have the place 
 during my father's lifetime. He is over eighty, and his lease of
 
 THREAT OF EJECTION. iSl 
 
 life must expire soon after his lease of property. The one was 
 for ninety and nine years, and the other can scarcely be for 
 more. 
 
 " I shall require possession at the time of expiration." 
 
 " It will kill my father to leave Brynhafod, where he was 
 born and bred, and has lived all His days. You would have 
 his death on your conscience. But possibly a death more or 
 less in our class doesn't matter to your lordship." 
 
 "Death! What have I to do with death? Am I a 
 murderer." 
 
 '■ I did not say so, my lord." 
 
 Even Pennant, who knew the Earl well, was surprised and 
 horrified at the expression of his countenance at that moment. 
 It was not only grim, but ghastly. It quickly passed off, 
 however, and left him cold and unimpressionable as usual. 
 
 "One word more, my lord," said Pennant. "If you insist 
 on our giving up Brynhafod, I must press the work of years 
 into as many months. It shall go hard with me if I do not 
 atone for past neglect, by furbishing up the vicarage and marry- 
 ing up the parson, before I seek another and a better landlord. 
 It shall go harder still if we don't preach and pray the 
 wreckers into giving up their devilish practices. They already 
 believe the witch's fire to be God's work, and so do I. Neither 
 you nor I can strive against Him. You may turn us out of 
 house and home, but if 'the Lord is our castle, whom shall 
 we fear?' Whereas, a mansion without Him were no shelter. 
 ' Unless the Lord build the house their labour is but lost that 
 build it.' Heap up your gold, my lord : fill your dungeons, 
 cellars, and towers with wreckage ; rackrent your land ; scan 
 your coasts from the highest babel you can build ; reign over 
 all you can see ; and still there is One more powerful than you, 
 who can, if so he will, humble you to the dust, and bring you 
 in sorrow to the grave." 
 
 As Mr. Pennant spoke, the Earl quailed visibly ; and when 
 he rose in his excitement, and stood before him with his hand 
 outstretched, his lordship pushed his chair back, and seized the
 
 1 82 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 bell-rope, as if afraid of an assault. Pennant smiled con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " You need have no fear of me or mine, my lord. We shall 
 not harm you ; but you have myrmidons who may. If you 
 change your mind, you will find my sons honest and true, as 
 their forefathers have been. I trust yours may be as great 
 a blessing to you as mine are to me." 
 
 With this Farmer Pennant left the room. The words "Curse 
 that fellow ! " followed him ; but he did not hear them. He 
 hurried out into the servants' offices, and asked for Lord Pen- 
 ruddock, who chanced to be at home. He was shown into 
 his private room, where he waited a little while alone. He 
 was much excited, and sought in vain to calm himself. To 
 leave Brynhafod was almost like relinquishing life. He did 
 not realize it, but he said to himself that he would not do it 
 without a struggle. He paced the room until Lord Penruddock 
 came in, when he began the subject at once. He told him the 
 facts of his late interview with the Earl, and told them hotly 
 enough. Then he added, " Now, my lord, I had hoped that 
 as my father and I have rented under your father, so my son 
 Michael might rent under you. Is this to be crushed by some 
 sudden fancy ? In bad times as well as good we have paid 
 our rent to the day ; we have worked the farm as if it were our 
 own , we have spent thousands upon the land ; we have im- 
 proved the house and buildings ; we have, to the best of our 
 ability, done as we would be done by." 
 
 " I believe you," said Penruddock. " You have done every- 
 thing but submit to your superiors ; and now they have the 
 power, they would give you a lesson to learn on your respecthe 
 positions." 
 
 " We have not fawned and cringed, my lord, neither have 
 we encroached or tried familiarity. We have strictly kept the 
 distance allotted to us by birth, education, and duty, and main- 
 tained by the Earl's will. A little more condescension on his 
 part might have won a little more love on ours ; and I counsel 
 your lordship, if it should please God, in the course of nature,
 
 THREAT OF EJECTION. 1 83 
 
 to bring you to the earldom, to seek to win love rather than 
 servile obedience." 
 
 " I am obliged for your condescending advice, Mr. Pennant. 
 When I succeed my father, I shall doubtless know how to act. 
 May I ask what is your business with me?" 
 
 " It is twofold, my lord. First, to beg you, who have in- 
 fluence with the Earl, to ask him to consider before he ejects 
 a family who have more than paid the value of the estate ; and 
 secondly, to entreat your lordship not to put silly notions into 
 the head of our child Daisy." 
 
 During this brief colloquy, the speakers grew hot and angry • 
 but when the word " Daisy " was uttered, it had the effect of 
 calming them. Mr. Pennant looked at Lord Penruddock with 
 a scrutinizing decision, while the young man's eyes fell for 
 a few moments ; not for long, however. When he glanced up 
 again, they were defiant, and he resumed, after a pause, reso- 
 lutely, if quietly, — 
 
 ''The young lady has, then, confided to you what I said 
 to her?" 
 
 " In part, my lord. We have no secrets in our household," 
 
 "Indeed ! You are especially favoured. I understand that 
 you have forbidden her accompanying my sister to London." 
 
 " I have, my lord ; and what must have passed between you 
 and her proves that I was right." 
 
 " Perhaps so. Now for your twofold request. We will com- 
 promise the matter. If )Ou will advise Miss Daisy to yield 
 to my wishes, I will advise the Earl to yield to yours, and I am 
 sure our advice would be followed in both cases ; for if she 
 will consent to what I asked her, I will manage that you shall 
 keep the farm." 
 
 "You made-believe that you would marry her privately, my 
 lord. We know what that means in a gentleman of your 
 position." 
 
 " I meant exactly what I said, and mean it still. You stand 
 in the place of her father, and I repeat it to you. I love her, 
 and consider her fit to fill any position ; and when she is my
 
 1 84 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 w ife, my father will receive her as such, for he has never con- 
 tradicted any wish of mine. You shall he present at the 
 ceremony, if you will, only it must be secret — for a time, at 
 least." 
 
 Astonishment prevented Mr. Pennant's replying to this mar- 
 vellous proposal for a few minutes, which seemed hours to Lord 
 Penruddock, who was in earnest, and who expected instant 
 and glad consent. 
 
 " My lord, forgive me if I misdoubted your honour," said 
 Pennant at last, very slowly and considerately. " Daisy is 
 worthy of your love, and would soon fit herself to any rank. 
 If your lordship will tell the Earl first, I will put before' her 
 the distinction you propose for her; but I could not expect 
 obedience from my own sons if I encouraged disobedience in 
 another's. My sons ! — we had looked forward to our Daisy 
 marrying one of them." 
 
 " She is not betrothed ?— not engaged ? " 
 
 " Not as yet, my lord." 
 
 There was another silence, during which Mr. Pennant's 
 happy face was clouded, and Lord Penruddock walked to 
 a window, as if to think. The farmer looked after him, and 
 wondered if he could be sincere ; but knowing Daisy as he 
 did, he believed her capable of inspiring the most romantic 
 attachment, even in an earl's son, and he also feared she was 
 ambitious. He was, indeed, much puzzled and distressed by 
 the chain of events that so suddenly entangled him ; but he 
 was not cast down. He asked for direction silently from Him 
 who can alone disentangle our perplexities, and when Lord 
 Penruddock returned, he was better prepared to reply to him 
 than he had been before. His heart had always warmed to 
 this young man, who, although overbearing and hot headed, 
 had yet generous qualities, and who, under happier influences, 
 might have been just and true. 
 
 " I will speak to my father, Mr. Pennant, and meanwhile 
 you speak to Daisy. Tell her I must and will see her again 
 alone. It will be her fault if you do not remain at Brynhafoi,
 
 THREAT OF EJECTION. 1 85 
 
 and according as you use your influence over her, so shall 
 1 use mine over my father." 
 
 '• I cannot influence her, my lord. If she loves you, as 
 maybe she does, for she did not say to the contrary, her own 
 heart will speak for you ; if not, you would scarcely wish her 
 for your wife." 
 
 " I should wish to make her love me, and would do it in 
 spite of all obstacles. Tell her so, and that no power shall 
 part us." 
 
 " There is a Power above that parts or makes one by 
 a touch of His rod. Let us trust in Him, my lord." 
 
 "As you will. But you must act as well as trust, for on you 
 and Daisy may hang the fate of your family, as well as mine ; 
 for I cannot live without her." 
 
 Mr. Pennant sighed heavily as he rose to depart. Lord 
 Penruddock, by some unusual impulse, held out his hand, 
 which the farmer grasped. 
 
 " God bless you, my lord, and guide us all aright ! " he said, 
 and his heart was so full that he could scarcely speak. 
 
 " Thank you, Pennant ; I hope He will," was the reply, as 
 the farmer departed, sadly and wearily. 
 
 Lord Penruddock was impulsive, and rarely waited to con- 
 sider or weigh his actions, so he went at once in search of his 
 father. He found him pacing his favourite walk outside his 
 tower ; wild rock and sea beneath, frowning turrets overhead. 
 The Earl looked even more moody than usual ; for, although 
 he was rejoicing over the consummation of his long-resolved 
 plans, he had not liked Pennant's words, " You have myr- 
 midons who may." A breath destroys a coward's peace. He 
 knew well enough that his tools might work against him. Still 
 he was resolved to be rid of the Pennants, and to extirpate 
 them, root and branch, from the soil. When, therefore, his son 
 came to him with the preface that he had just seen Farmer 
 Pennant, he was prepared to tell him that he was thankful to 
 be nearly rid of him and his at last. Lord Penruddock joined 
 him in his walk, which was much like pacing a deck, and after
 
 IS6 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 his preliminary information, dashed into the subject next his 
 heart. Hitherto, he thought, his father had yielded to his 
 slightest wish— at any rate, he had appeared to do so— would 
 he thwart him in this? 
 
 ;< You suggested the other day that I should marry," he 
 began ; " I think it would be as well, and I should like it." 
 
 "Ah! Lady Jane? An excellent match, and money to 
 prop up these poor walls," returned the Earl, pausing in his 
 walk. 
 
 "Some one infinitely more attractive than Lady Jane, my 
 lord. I have lost my heart to a country maiden, and come as 
 a suppliant for your consent." 
 
 "I guess. The heiress, Miss Hughes Hughes. They say 
 she has fifty thousand pounds. Not so bad, Penruddock." 
 
 " Wrong again. I know you will disapprove ; still, you will 
 not send me to destruction by refusing." 
 
 The Earl glanced at his son, who was flushed and agitated 
 in spite of his assurance. 
 
 "Some mesalliance /" he exclaimed, looking down again. 
 
 " No, my lord ; a lady, I am sure. Beauty, education, and 
 fascination " 
 
 " Her name, Penruddock ? " 
 
 "I do not know her proper surname; she is— she is an 
 adopted child." 
 
 "Scarcely a wife for Lord Penruddock, apparently." 
 
 " She is an empress among women, my lord." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! and you are unacquainted with her name. 
 Where does she live? Has she money? 
 
 " She lives — hem ! I fear she has no money." 
 
 " Ha ! I thought so ! Impossible ! You must have money. 
 Lady Jane for you, Sir George for Mona. and we should be 
 well off. Where does this unknown live ? " 
 
 "Not far off, my lord. At— at Brynhafod." 
 
 The word came heavily, like a cannon-ball ; and as such it 
 fell upon the Earl. Penruddock was terrified when he saw its 
 effect. His father turned so livid that he thought he would
 
 THREAT OF EJECTION. 1 87 
 
 have fallen down in a fit. He took hold of his arm to support 
 him, but he was shaken off. 
 
 " Not — that — foundling?" muttered the Earl at last. 
 
 " It is she, my lord." 
 
 " Curse her ! — curse them all ! " 
 
 Although that evil word was often on the Earl's lips, his 
 son had never heard him use it before. The tone, even more 
 than the word, startled him ; for in those days oaths were not 
 so uncommon as they happily are in these. 
 
 " My lord, remember that I love her," he exclaimed, pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 The Earl paced on, without heeding him, or speaking again, 
 and Penruddock walked at his side. Up and down, up 
 and down, while shadows flitted fantastically over the many- 
 coloured cliffs and the dancing sea. They were both thinking 
 of Daisy. The father's thoughts were deep and mysterious, 
 the son's shallow and clear. At last the Earl spoke with a 
 voice so altered that Penruddock was surprised. He had 
 changed his tactics and his tone, and his son's mind was too 
 superficial to understand him. 
 
 *' You love the girl — well ! Your mother and Mona fancy 
 her also. Take a twelvemonth to consider; you know I never 
 refused you anything. This is not much to ask, eh ? " 
 
 " A year is a life. I could not wait. I should die." 
 
 " Six months, then. Absence for six months. Three with 
 us in town, three abroad — anywhere." 
 
 "And then, my lord? " 
 
 " And then you shall have your way. But remember, I 
 have no money — no money. Not a penny to spare. You 
 won't like starvation, but you'll have to starve." 
 
 " Anything with her, my lord." 
 
 " Fool ! " muttered the Earl, within his teeth. " But you'll 
 see another girl in six months. You always do. Think more 
 of money and less of love; the one is sterling, the other base. 
 And this girl may be anybody — anybody." 
 
 '• I may marry her in six months ? "
 
 1 88 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " If you are in the same mind. Providing you name her 
 to no one during that time, and keep your own secret. You 
 must swear to do this. Make no mention of me. But you 
 have been candid, and although I can never acknowledge her 
 — by heavens, never ! — you know I can refuse you nothing." 
 
 Little as Lord Penruddock suspected it, the Earl had been 
 already apprised of this fancy for Daisy ; but he had not 
 imagined that his son could dream of marriage. Neither did 
 lie dream of it himself; but he found it easier to humour than 
 aggravate him, which would, he was aware, only drive him to 
 the act he contemplated, before his own plans were matured. 
 He took him, therefore, into his study, where he extracted 
 from him the promise to wait six months ; and where Lord 
 Penruddock extorted from the Earl a pledge that the Pennants 
 should not be ejected during that period. Thus much effected, 
 Penruddock walked gaily off, whistling a tune. 
 
 When he was gone the Earl gave vent to his suppressed 
 passion, muttering aloud, from time to time, such sentences as 
 these, interspersed with — 
 
 " Curses not loud but deep/' 
 
 " Saved for this ! A dog trained for this ! A ship wrecked 
 for this ! His wife ! My daughter-in-law ! A waif from the 
 sea ! I told her ladyship how it would be, but she humoured 
 Mona ! Isn't her disobedience enough ? But she, at least, 
 shall marry where the gold lies. The gold ! A nameless, 
 penniless, bare-faced peasant — a farmer's foundling — a tenant's 
 brat — to become Countess of Craigavon ? Never — never ! 
 She must be got rid of — she must, and, by heaven, she shall."
 
 CHAPTER XXV, 
 
 CARAD TELLS DAISY. 
 
 WHEN David Pennant returned to the farm he sought 
 Caradoc. He found him in the old schoolroom, 
 which he had converted into a temporary surgery. This room 
 stood apart from the house, having been once a sort of barn, 
 which had been turned into a cosy, habitable place by the 
 good farmer when Ap Adam was ejected from the vicarage. 
 Here that scholar had taught his young friends and continued 
 his own studies, and here had been projected and carried out 
 the light on the Esgair. It had formerly been appropriated 
 solely to Ap Adam, but of late Daisy had allured her Monad 
 children to it on Sunday, and Caradoc had used it to see 
 patients during the week. The peasants flocked to him for 
 advice and medicine immediately after his return, and were 
 just as ready to take his nostrums as they had been to take Ap 
 Adam's herbs. Indeed, it was indifferent to them which leech 
 they saw, provided they carried off some sort of drug with 
 them. But Caradoc was clever and experienced, so his reputa- 
 tion grew rapidly, and his gratuitous services were claimed by 
 patients who came from great distances, as such services 
 usually are. " All work and no pay," laughed his father ; but 
 he was none the less willing that his son should heal the poor. 
 And Caradoc's heart was so tender, his feelings were so quick, 
 and his compassion for poverty and suffering so intense, that 
 he desired nothing better than to study the human framework, 
 with a view to mitigating human misery. 
 
 He was deep in some great medical work when his father 
 
 189
 
 ICjO THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 entered. He was seated on a high stool at a rough deal table. 
 The whitewashed walls that inclosed him were lined with 
 coarse shelves, covered with coarser geological specimens, 
 while here and there odd volumes of all kinds of literature 
 peeped out from amongst them. Old Pennant used to say 
 that, but for Marget, the whole farm and its outhouses would 
 have been a museum, but she wouldn't have " the old stones 
 and bones " anywhere but in the schoolroom, and in Caradoc's 
 sacred chamber. His medicine bottles were for the present 
 guarded, like the books, by antediluvian relics, all of which he 
 had to himself during Ap Adam's prolonged absence. 
 
 Mr. Pennant startled him from his study by the words, 
 
 " Carad, the Earl won't renew the lease. We are to leave 
 the farm." 
 
 His father's heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and when 
 he glanced up he saw that he was much excited. He placed a 
 chair for him, and begged him to sit down and explain. Mr. 
 Pennant did so in few brief, strong, unmistakable words. 
 Caradoc was as much overcome by surprise and anger as his 
 father had been ; but, seeing his fiery state, he strove for 
 calm. 
 
 " There are other farms as good, father, with far better land- 
 lords," he said, after a long pause. 
 
 " I tell you, boy, it will kill your grandfather and your 
 mother!" cried the farmer, burying his head in his arms on 
 the long deal table, and sobbing like a child. 
 
 Caradoc knelt down by his side, put his arms round him, 
 and said cheerily, — 
 
 " They are stronger than you fancy, father. Remember we 
 all stand or fall together; and think of our Welsh proverb, 
 ' Union is strength.' " 
 
 " They will not even let us do that. Lord Penruddock 
 wants our Daisy, and that will kill Michael too," said David 
 Pennant, starting up again and facing his son. 
 
 Caradoc rose, and with some great struggle conquered the 
 passionate impulse within, visible in his countenance. After a
 
 CARAD TELLS DAISY. 191 
 
 momentary silence, laying one clenched hand on the table, the 
 other on his father's shoulder, he said, — 
 
 " Michael, also, is stronger than you think, father. But 
 what do you mean ? " 
 
 Mr. Pennant recounted briefly, bitterly, excitedly, the con- 
 versation he had held with Lord Penruddock. He was so 
 little himself that Caradoc almost fancied he had imagined it ; 
 but he soon found himself mistaken. The statements were too 
 clear for hallucinations. 
 
 " Daisy must be left to her own decision, father, and not 
 influenced by Lord Penruddock's promise to help us, provided 
 she consent," said Caradoc, excitedly. 
 
 "Of course — of course. Do you think she loves him or 
 Michael best ? " asked his father. 
 
 " I cannot tell. Women love titles and riches," replied 
 Caradoc, knitting his brows, and glancing on his book. 
 
 They calmed by degrees and went over and over what the 
 Earl and Lord Penruddock had said, considering each point. 
 They knew that the one hated, the other disliked them, simply 
 because they had always been independent tenants ; but they 
 had not believed in the extent of their aversion before. 
 
 "Even if Lord Penruddock tell his father, he will never 
 consent," exclaimed Caradoc suddenly. 
 
 "Then he will have her without it if he can," returned the 
 farmer. " She must be told before she hear of the lease. You 
 must tell her, Carad— I cannot." 
 
 " I ! " 
 
 " Yes. You are young, and understand such matters : I have 
 forgotten them. Are you sure it won't kill your mother, lad?" 
 
 The door opened, and Daisy entered. 
 
 " Here you are, after all ! Truants ! laggards ! " she began, 
 with smile and jest. "We have been seeking you everywhere, 
 even to the hen-roost. But something is amiss. What is it ? 
 Father, you have been crying ! Carad, what is the matter ? " 
 
 She stood between father and son, looking from one to the 
 3ther, her countenance changed from gay to grave.
 
 192 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Tell her, Carad — tell her ; I cannot," broke forth the far- 
 mer, rising hastily. " Eye of Day, thou art sure to do right, 
 God helping thee ; only — only — remember Michael." 
 
 " Father ! what is it ? " cried Daisy, as David Pennant passed 
 her by, and left her and Caradoc alone together. 
 
 " Remember Michael ! " echoed in Caradoc's heart, as he 
 turned away and walked towards the shelves, to recover and 
 steel himself for the task laid upon him. 
 
 When he believed himself prepared, he returned to Daisy. 
 He was so white, and there was such a pain in his face, 
 that she was frightened. But she was not one of those who 
 give way at every slight alarm, for she had imbibed strength of 
 mind with strength of body during her mountain life. So she 
 laid her hand quietly on his arm, looked into his pale face, and 
 asked again what had happened. Why did his cheeks flush 
 suddenly at her slight touch, and his eyes so gleam when hers 
 sought to fathom them, that her hand and appealing glance fell 
 together? Alas ! and is Caradoc, too, in love with Daisy? If 
 so, he conceals it bravely. 
 
 " Sit down, Daisy," he said at last. 
 
 She sat down on a form near the table, and he seated him- 
 self by her side. He smiled sadly. 
 
 " These are our old places," he said. 
 
 " Yes ; where you and the master taught me. What happy 
 times those were ! " she replied. 
 
 " You remember them, Daisy ? " 
 
 " How could I forget them? Can you recall how you strove 
 to teach me Latin declensions, when the master was irritable, 
 and I inattentive, by assuring me that Lady Jane Grey was a 
 classical scholar ? and how you rewarded me, when they were 
 learnt, by letting me ride your pony, or climb the cliffs with 
 you in search of fossils? and how you used to prompt me, 
 when father set me on the table, to repeat Welsh or English 
 poetry to every one who came in ? Oh, Carad ! I owe every- 
 thing to you, even my life. Our Heavenly Father made you 
 the instrument of saving that."
 
 CARAD TELLS DAISY. 193 
 
 "Nay, Daisy ; it was Gwylfa." 
 
 " But you taught him, and it was to you he gave me. Oh, 
 Carad ! it has been strange and lonely without you." 
 
 " Hush, Daisy ! hush ! " 
 
 As Caradoc uttered these words he touched Daisy's arm 
 lightly, and again their eyes met. They were full of that 
 tender feeling which the recollection of a happy past calls 
 forth, and as they sat, for the moment, side by side, that youth- 
 ful past seemed present, and they were children again. But 
 Caradoc's " Hush ! " was prompted by the recollection of what 
 he had to tell, and his brotherly love for Michael. He dared 
 not love Daisy other than as friend or brother. And yet he 
 felt the unutterable charm of her dignified innocence, her 
 guileless simplicity, her inborn taste and ladyhood, her pure, 
 exceeding beauty. They were silent a moment. Daisy's eyes 
 were cast down on the hands folded on her lap, and her grace- 
 ful head and flushed cheek were bent. Caradoc, his elbow on 
 the table, his head on his hand, gazed upon her till his pale 
 face also flushed, and he exclaimed, involuntarily, with a heavy 
 sigh, " Oh, Daisy ! that happy past is past." 
 
 She glanced up quiokly, and the pained expression of his face 
 recalled her father's hasty exit, and his " Remember Michael ! " 
 
 " What is it, Carad?" she said, controlling some emotion, and 
 moving to a little distance down the long form. 
 
 "It is — oh! why did father commission me to tell you? 
 Still — you may — be glad, Daisy. Would you like to be 
 Countess of Craigavon? Would you care to have lands, 
 and wealth, and power ? Would you desire to exchange our 
 humble lot for something grander ? " 
 
 '• This is of the mythology, Carad. I would be rich, if I 
 could dispense my riches ; powerful, if I could relieve the 
 oppressed ; but never Countess of Craigavon. I would not 
 exchange my happy life for her ladyship's for all the grandeur 
 of the world ; nor this dear schoolroom for the gloomy one of 
 Lady Mona ; nor this bright farmstead for the dark Castle. 
 But why do you waste time in vain questions, when there 
 
 o
 
 194 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 seems to be real anxiety somewhere? What did father bid 
 you say to me ? " 
 
 "That Lord Penruddock has declared to him that- 
 
 Here he paused ; and Daisy's colour deepened as she turned 
 away from him and moved still farther down the form. 
 
 •' I understand," she said, somewhat coldly. 
 
 " And what is he to say ? " asked Caradoc, in a deep, hoarse, 
 hesitating voice. 
 
 "That I have already given my answer to Lord Penrud- 
 dock," she replied, with a sort of brusque decision. 
 
 Caradoc gained courage when she no longer faced him, and 
 gave his message resolutely and rapidly, to which she listened 
 without comment or exclamation. 
 
 " Daisy, as — as — your brother, I am bound to tell you what 
 his lordship says. He asks for my father's countenance to 
 marry you wheresoever he and you will. He intends to gain 
 the Earl's consent, who refuses him nothing. He seems hon- 
 ourable and straightforward beyond what T mean, he is 
 
 sincere in his proposal, and father wishes you to be told 
 exactly what it is. I am a sad bungler, but I have obeyed 
 him. It is for you to decide." 
 
 When Caradoc paused there was silence between the two. 
 Daisy broke it. Turning slowly towards him, with a pale, stern 
 face and cold manner, she said, half scornfully, — 
 
 " And what is your advice, my brother ? " 
 
 " That you follow the impulse of your heart," replied Cara- 
 doc, very gently— for he had never seen her look so before. 
 
 "My heart !" she repeated, a tear starting to her eye. " What 
 is father's advice ? — does he wish so to dispose of me ? " 
 
 " Not if he meant the words he uttered as he left this room," 
 replied Caradoc, with a strong effort at self-control. 
 
 He believed that Daisy had loved Michael, and was loved 
 by him ; yet he had watched her more than once when speak- 
 ing to Lord Penruddock, until he had almost fancied that the 
 glamour of rank, manners, admiration, compliments, and the 
 ready ease acquired by travel, had so far influenced her as to
 
 CARAD TELLS DAISY. 195 
 
 transfer her affections from his brother to the man of the 
 world. Of himself he did not dare to think. Daisy knew that 
 he alluded to Mr. Pennant's " Remember Michael," and, what- 
 ever her feelings, spoke accordingly. 
 
 " I must have time to think, and I will speak to Lord 
 Penruddock myself," she said, with a sort of majestic calm 
 unusual to her. "There is something that I do not under- 
 stand in all this ; but I thank you, Carad, for your interest in 
 me and— his lordship." 
 
 Their eyes met. Hers were indignant, his reproachful ; but 
 neither understood the other, and each felt, intuitively, that it 
 was well the other did not know what was passing below the 
 surface. 
 
 " Mother is waiting supper," she said, and left the school- 
 room, followed by Caradoc. 
 
 They found a sorrowful party in the hall, for David Pennant 
 had told his family of the Earl's resolution concerning the 
 lease. He was seated near his wife in the chimney-corner, 
 trying to comfort her, for she was sobbing audibly. The old 
 farmer had covered his face with his hands, and Michael 
 was standing by his side. Daisy, seeing this as she entered, 
 retreated to the passage, and asked Caradoc for an explanation. 
 All unkind feeling vanished, and she listened breathlessly while 
 he gave it. 
 
 " Leave Brynhafod ! Not renew the lease ! " she exclaimed, 
 " and you rightful inheritors of the land ! I will see Lord 
 Penruddock, and represent it to him." 
 
 She little knew the bargain he sought to make ; and Caradoc 
 felt that she understood her influence over his lordship. They 
 went together into the hall. Michael looked at them sorrow- 
 fully, as he stood between his grandfather and the untasted 
 meal. Daisy was at the old man's other side instantly; her 
 arms round his neck, her lips pressed to his white head. 
 
 " Don't grieve, dear," she said. 
 
 On which the venerable face was uncovered, and smiled 
 serenely upon her.
 
 196 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 "The cup that my Heavenly Father hath given us, shall we 
 not drink it?" he said, reverently. " I was but asking that His 
 strength might be perfected in our weakness, my Eye of Day." 
 
 Daisy's tears fell on the white head, but she also strove to 
 smile. 
 
 " The Lord is sufficient for us, grandfather," she said. 
 
 Upon which he turned towards his son and daughter-in-law 
 and repeated the text, " Out of the mouth of babes and suck- 
 lings hast Thou ordained strength." 
 
 David Pennant looked up wistfully at Daisy, and seeing that 
 she was near Michael, also smiled. Then he turned to his 
 wife, and said, " Now, mother, we have shed tears enough. 
 Let us rejoice that we have three children readier to renounce 
 the loaves and fishes than we are." 
 
 " They don't know — they don't know," sobbed Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 It was now Caradoc's turn to comfort. He went to his 
 mother from his post of observation near the door, and with 
 a sort of gentle decision peculiar to him, said, as he bent over 
 her, " Mother, you must not make yourself ill, for all our sakes. 
 What should we do if you were laid up again ? You will have 
 more work than ever if I stay in the country." 
 
 " You will not go away, then, Carad ? " cried Mrs. Pennant, 
 eagerly, looking at him through many tears. 
 
 " Certainly not, dear mother," was the reply. 
 
 The words stayed the grief instantly. Caradoc had been 
 undecided hitherto, but under this sudden pressure of diffi- 
 culty his mind was quickly made up. The joy was greater 
 than the sorrow. The simple woman brushed the tears from 
 her eyes, and, putting her hand into her husband's, said, with 
 a final sob, " There's good our Carad is ! I was thinking he 
 wouldn't have the heart to leave us." 
 
 And so the young consoled the old. 
 
 Here Marget made her appearance with some salad. 
 " Name o' goodness ! what's the matter ? There's the fried 
 potatoes as cold as if they had never been in the pan, and 
 they browned as sleek as a cow's back. And the mistress has
 
 CARAD TELLS DAISY. 197 
 
 been crying again ; as if there wasn't salt water enough near by 
 without her pouring it out of her eyes. If you are letting her 
 cry, all of you, and making her ill again, all I can say is you 
 ought to be knowing better." 
 
 " Hush, Marget, fac/i ! we are in some trouble," interrupted 
 the old farmer. 
 
 " Trouble ! Why, they're all here ! There's Carad, and 
 Michael, and Daisy," cried Marget, in alarm, looking round. 
 
 They told her what had occurred. She was stupified for 
 a moment, and let the dish she held fall. 
 
 " That's what you get now for telling one of a sudden," she 
 remarked solemnly, pointing to the shards. " But 'tis no good 
 pining over a broken dish ; we must get another. And 'tis no 
 good lamenting over this old farm, as is colder than a barn 
 when the winnowing's going on, and like to be blown down 
 any night in the year, 'specially o' winter. We must get 
 another. There's Coed Bach to let, with Thomas Plas for 
 landlord— as snug a farm as you'd be seeing, and as warm as 
 a cake in an oven." 
 
 They all laughed at the similitude ; for Coed Bach was 
 situated in a hollow, and surrounded by trees. It was also in 
 another district, far from the sea. 
 
 "Too warm by half, and no sea, Marget," said Daisy. 
 
 "Sea, indeed, Miss, Jack ! We've had enough of that, and 
 them horrible wrecks besides," said Marget. 
 
 Caradoc and Daisy looked at one another, remembering the 
 Esgair. David Pennant remarked that there would be time 
 enough to discuss the future, and that they had better have 
 some supper. They sat down — Daisy, as usual, between the 
 old man and Michael, Caradoc by his mother. The meal was 
 silent and sad, every one thinking his own thoughts, and saying 
 little. Mrs. Pennant was more cheerful than the rest, for her 
 mind never overleaped the present, and she felt that she had 
 her dearest son. He, probably, realized the position more 
 fully than the others, knowing all, which no one else did. 
 And the loss of the farm seemed comparatively insignificant to
 
 198 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 him in comparison with the complications that must arise, let 
 Daisy decide as she would. On one side the wrathful Earl 
 and the impetuous Penruddock ; on the other the sensitive 
 Michael and his anxious parents. Then, what of Daisy ? — 
 what of himself?
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 PARTINGS. 
 
 A NOTE arrived from Lord Penruddock, appointing a 
 A~\. meeting with Mr. David Pennant at Brynhafod. In his 
 impatience he followed it almost immediately, while a mes- 
 senger was sent in search of the farmer. It was morning when 
 he arrived, and he was struck with the beauty of the prospect 
 from the parlour, where he waited awhile alone. The window 
 was open, and the perfume of the white pink wafted in, while 
 the distant murmur of waves was heard. He was surprised at 
 the tasteful simplicity and cheerfulness of the room, and 
 attributed them, not unjustly, to Daisy. There were nosegays 
 everywhere, but one of wild flowers attracted him most. It 
 was composed chiefly of heather and harebells, and arranged 
 in an old-fashioned china dish of great value. He extracted 
 one or two, and placed them in his button-hole. Then he 
 glanced at the titles of some books on a mahogany shelf, and 
 raised his eyebrows as he saw they were chiefly classics, 
 whether in Welsh, English, or Latin. The polished oak floor 
 and furniture pleased his taste, and he pictured Daisy seated 
 at the harp in the corner of the room, until he almost fancied 
 himself in some noble abode, instead of that of one of his 
 father's tenants. While his imagination was thus kindled by 
 thoughts of Daisy, and his mind set on obtaining her, either 
 by consent or stratagem, the door slowly opened, and she 
 appeared. She curtseyed as usual, and stood between the 
 door and window, looking like the picture he had supposed. 
 She left him no time for greeting, but spoke at once, with her 
 customary fearless simplicity.
 
 200 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " My lord, I would speak to you before father comes. I 
 have been told of the honour you have again shown me, and 
 of the falling in of the lease. Did you promise to help father 
 to remain here, if — if — I consented to your request? " 
 
 This straightforward question embarrassed Lord Penruddock, 
 and startled him into an involuntary affirmative. 
 
 " Then, my lord, you took an ungenerous advantage of our 
 distress. I was not told of this, but I suspected it from the 
 manner of my father and brother. May I ask your lordship 
 exactly what you mean and wish ? " 
 
 Lord Penruddock hesitated as he replied. 
 
 " You know what I wish, Daisy." 
 
 " I know what you said to me, my lord; but at that time 
 you had no intention of speaking to my father. On the 
 contrary, you desired secrecy. His lordship, the Earl, would 
 scarcely countenance this— unequal, impossible . . ." 
 
 Daisy paused. 
 
 " My father refuses me nothing. He almost promises his 
 consent if I wait awhile to prove myself. He little knows the 
 depth and intensity of my love, or perhaps he would not be so 
 conciliating. However, I will strive for patience, if you will 
 give me hope. I shall do some rash thing if you refuse ; for, 
 indeed, your presence is my only heaven on earth — your voice 
 my hymn — your " 
 
 " Hush ! my lord, if you please. I am not used to hear 
 such words addressed to a poor mortal. But I would know, if 
 what you say is true, whether it would make you grant me a 
 favour." 
 
 "You have but to ask. I, and all I have, is yours." 
 
 " Nay, my lord ; I only want you to intercede with the Earl 
 to renew our lease of Brynhafod. If, as you say, he refuses 
 you nothing, he will assuredly do this for your lordship." 
 
 "If you marry me at once — to-day, to-morrow — 1 swear to 
 accomplish your wish." 
 
 " That I cannot do, my lord." 
 
 " When does the lease expire ? "
 
 PARTINGS. 20 1 
 
 "At Michaelmas, my lord." 
 
 " Before then I shall be back. I shall go away just to 
 make believe that I am absent, and return unexpectedly in a 
 few months at most." 
 
 " You will not deceive your father, my lord ? " 
 
 " Ah, my simplest of Daisies, all is fair in love. He will 
 deceive me, if he can, and send you all off before Michaelmas; 
 so if I am to do your pleasure, I must be on the spot ; and 
 you, my sweet queen, must wait for me. We must circumvent 
 the Earl." 
 
 "Not so, my lord ; you must honour him." 
 
 " Honour him ! I will swear to honour you, if that will 
 please you." 
 
 Daisy's face showed marked displeasure ; and Lord Penrud- 
 dock changed his tone to one of persuasion. 
 
 " You shall make of me what you will, if only you will love 
 me." 
 
 " That I cannot promise, my lord." 
 
 " You will, at least, await my return ? You will engage 
 yourself to no one else — love no one else ? " 
 
 He saw that her face flushed, but she answered with remark- 
 able self-possession,— - 
 
 " I can make no promises, my lord, and ask for none. If 
 you will do a just and righteous act by prevailing on the Earl 
 to renew the lease, your conscience will be your reward. I am 
 not likely to be engaged to any one in so short a space, and 
 should not desire it. But I pray to God to guide my life, as 
 He miraculously saved it." 
 
 Her voice faltered a little, and nothing but her simple purity 
 restrained Lord Penruddock from an outburst of fiery passion. 
 As it was, he went close to her, standing, as she still was, near 
 the window, and, seizing her hand, kissed it, exclaiming, " Oh, 
 Daisy ! if only I had been educated in your school, perhaps 
 you might have loved and saved me." 
 
 She was touched by the pathos of his words, and said, as 
 she withdrew her hand, —
 
 202 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " I will pray for you, my lord, and — and for Lady Mona. 
 Take care of her ladyship ; watch over her. And, oh ! pray 
 for yourself." 
 
 " I will try, if you will wait for me ; and I will strive to 
 pacify the Earl. You are sure you do not hate me ? " 
 
 " No, my lord. Why should I ? " 
 
 " Because I have hated those you love best. But when my 
 passion calms, I am less bad than I seem — less haughty and 
 revengeful." 
 
 " So we all think, my lord ; and grandfather sometimes prays 
 that you may be made a God-fearing, righteous man." 
 
 " I am obliged to him. And you ? " 
 
 '• I ask God to incline your heart towards the poor sailors, 
 and others, wrecked, as I was, on your lordship's property." 
 
 " You shall do for them what you will when you are Countess 
 of Craigavon, and I may then, perhaps, be able to root out the 
 wreckers. Give me something of yours to console me during 
 my forced absence." 
 
 Daisy considered a moment. Then she walked deliberately 
 to the bookshelf and took down a small Bible. She carried it 
 to him, and said, — 
 
 " Will you receive this, my lord ? It is my very own." 
 
 He took it, opened it, and saw the words " Daisy Pennant " 
 on the flyleaf. His excited and somewhat sarcastic expression 
 changed to momentary seriousness. 
 
 " Thank you. Must I read it ? " 
 
 " If you please, my lord. ' 
 
 " For your sake ? " 
 
 " For your own. It is the Word of God." 
 
 At that moment David Pennant passed the window. With- 
 out another word, and to Daisy's inexpressible distress, Lord 
 Penruddock put his arm round her, kissed her on the forehead, 
 and left the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 daisy's tears. 
 
 DAVID PENNANT found Daisy in tears. He drew 
 from her, in part only, what had passed between her and 
 Lord Penruddock. There was something in her manner, and, 
 above all, her tears, that led the worthy farmer to suspect that 
 after all she liked her noble lover ; and although it made him 
 hot and angry, he was not surprised. He was too proud, 
 however, to sound the depths of her heart, or again to mention 
 Michael. Neither did he discover that Daisy had sought the 
 interview with his lordship in order to inquire concerning the 
 lease, and that she had entreated him to intercede with the 
 Earl. All that he ascertained was that she had made no 
 promise. 
 
 " It was forward of you, my dear, to seek his lordship, when 
 he came to see me by his own appointment," he said angrily 
 
 " I did not mean it so, father," she replied. 
 
 Her submissive manner softened him. 
 
 " Did he leave any message for me ? " he asked. 
 
 "None, father. But he said he should be back in a tew 
 months." 
 
 " We had better say nothing of all this to any one but Carad. 
 He knows about it already, and it would only cause gossip. 
 I daresay there will be talk enough when Marget knows you 
 have been closeted with his lordship. She has already set the 
 whole country ablaze with the news that we are to leave the 
 farm." 
 
 " Oh ! father, but perhaps we shall not leave it."
 
 204 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " I incline to think we shall. I am not going to be beholden 
 to any man, whether earl or squire, while I have stock and 
 crop for another holding." 
 
 A well-known footstep sounded in the passage, and Daisy 
 started and brushed away her tears. In another moment 
 Caradoc came in, followed by Sir George Walpole. He had 
 been to the Castle professionally, had met Sir George, who had 
 turned and walked with him, and had finally expressed a wish 
 to " bid good-bye to his pretty sister, in whom he felt much 
 interested." Caradoc wondered whether Daisy had gained 
 another aristocratic admirer, as he led the gallant General to 
 the farm, and began to wish that the child he had borne from 
 the waves had grown up less beautiful and attractive. Both 
 he and Sir George perceived the tears, as well as the heightened 
 complexion of the farmer. Howevei, they made the best of 
 it, and Sir George, who was a good talker, engaged them all 
 in conversation or interpretation. Uncle Toby himself was 
 not fonder of fighting his battles over and over with Corporal 
 Trim than was Sir George. But he saw there was something 
 amiss, and suddenly pausing in the midst of an inquiry con- 
 cerning Ap Adam's residence at the farm, he turned to Daisy 
 and asked what it was. 
 
 " I never saw a tear in a lady's eye without feeling disposed 
 to wipe it away," he said kindly. " I am an old soldier, and 
 go at once to the point." 
 
 Daisy smiled, but Caradoc thought Sir George impertinent, 
 and answered for her. 
 
 "We are all anxious just now, sir. Our lease of this farm 
 expires at Michaelmas, and the Earl means to take it into his 
 own hands." 
 
 " How many years have you held it ? " 
 
 "Since long before the Earl possessed the Castle." 
 
 This was said with a sort of proud independence not lost 
 on Sir George. 
 
 "That seems hard," he said. " I still think your fiiend Ap 
 Adam must be my friend, and for his sake, and out of gratitude
 
 DAISY S TEARS. 20$ 
 
 for your kindness to him, should like to be of use to you and 
 your family. I have, alas ! neither wife nor child, and yet 
 I have more money than thousands who have families — 
 such is the will of Providence, though I don't understand it. 
 If money can help your good father, one of you must let me 
 know. I am fond of young people, particularly when they are 
 not conceited, and although you are a sufficiently good-looking 
 pair, I have discovered no special marks of vanity as yet. 
 Your confounded guttural tongue prevents my saying this to 
 your father, but you can explain. If you would like an ap- 
 pointment as army surgeon, let me know. You are just the 
 man for one." 
 
 Sir George paused for an answer, but Caradoc had none 
 ready. He would have liked the proposed post, but could not 
 accept it. 
 
 " Mother wishes Carad to live at home, and he never thinks 
 of himself," rejoined Daisy, instead. 
 
 "My young friend, I honour you!" cried Sir George. "You 
 will never repent any sacrifice you make for your parents. 
 Good-bye!" 
 
 He grasped Caradoc's hand, while tears returned to Daisy's 
 eyes. 
 
 "God bless you, my dear," he said to her, and the tears fell 
 on his hand as he took hers. 
 
 She was not given to crying, and could only account for 
 her emotion by the recollection of her interview with Lord 
 Penruddock. 
 
 "It is not good-bye for ever, sir?" she said. 
 
 " I trust not. I shall probably be at the Castle again some 
 day. Lord Craigavon has invited me, and the ladies — the 
 Countess at least — seconded the invitation. I accompany 
 them to London to-morrow. Tell your friend Ap Adam that, 
 if he is the person I think him. 1 shall hope to hear from him, 
 and, under any circumstances, I shall depend on your letting 
 me know when he returns to you. Good-bye again." 
 
 All this time Sir George held Daisy's hand, and looked at
 
 206 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 her with a sort of lingering tenderness. She made no effort to 
 withdraw it, feeling instinctively that the act was merely of 
 kindly interest; and when he left the farm, accompanied by 
 Mr. Pennant and his son, she stood at the window to watch 
 him out of sight. 
 
 " Perhaps when he comes again we shall have left this dear 
 home, and then I shall never see him more ! " she sighed. 
 
 Her reverie was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Tudor. 
 He brought a note from Miss Manent to her, and seemed in 
 much perplexity. He begged her to read it at once, and she 
 did so. It was to the effect that Lady Mona had procured 
 Miss Manent a situation at Sir Shenkin Thomas's, of Plas, and 
 that she would not, therefore, be obliged to leave " her dear 
 Wales." She had a few weeks to spare before she began her 
 new life, and she would, if convenient, accept Mrs. Pennant's 
 kind invitation, and spend them at Brynhafod. 
 
 " I am so glad, are not you ? " was Daisy's first exclamation ; 
 and then she remembered Lady Mona's threatened elopement^ 
 and her countenance fell. 
 
 '•' I feared it would be impossible, now that you are all in 
 such trouble about the lease," said Mr. Tudor, himself always 
 in trouble about something or other. " I would ask my mother 
 to invite her, but " 
 
 " I am quite sure she can come here. We shall all be 
 pleased to see her. Shall we not, father?" returned Daisy, as 
 David Pennant entered. 
 
 The keynote of Daisy's hospitality was struck as soon as he 
 had heard the news. 
 
 " Of course she can come. There's plenty of room, even 
 if the Master returns, and old Madoc comes. The Earl has 
 turned off Madoc, and liberally appointed Michael to reign in 
 his stead. He had forgotten that he had turned us out, too. 
 Now's your time, parson. You can marry her straight off from 
 this house, and I'll set to work on the vicarage, in spite of the 
 Earl. Daisy shall be bridesmaid, Carad best man, and 111 
 give her away. I'll be bound the Earl was glad to be saved
 
 daisy's tears. 207 
 
 the expense of her journey to London, and didn't propose to 
 pension her for her services." 
 
 "I think he was," said Mr. Tudor, thoughtfully. "And 
 they none of them seemed to be sorry to part with her, 
 although she has been so devoted to them." 
 
 " Neither would they be sorry to part with you, if you were 
 to leave them to-morrow," replied David. "They're not what 
 you may call an affectionate family. Take courage, man, and 
 marry the young woman out-and-out. Let us all show the 
 Earl we can live without him. We can find another farm, you 
 a wife, Miss Manent a husband, old Madoc a home, your 
 brother, if needs be, employment, without his lordship's aid, 
 and we will take an unfair advantage of him, and do it while 
 he's away." 
 
 Mr. Tudor seemed struck with this idea. He felt as if he 
 could really "take courage," when the grim, uncompromising 
 Earl was not near. And Mr. Pennant forgot his own troubles 
 in the pleasant hope of helping others. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! come here ! " he called, with stentorian 
 vigour, from the passage. 
 
 When Mrs. Pennant came, looking scared by the sudden 
 summons, she was astonished at the change in her husband's 
 face. 
 
 " Has the Earl renewed the lease?" she asked. 
 
 "No; but we're going to have a wedding. A wedding!" 
 he replied. 
 
 " Mr. Pennant, pray don't be so rash. I haven't even asked 
 her," whispered Mr. Tudor, laying hold of the farmer's coat- 
 tails. 
 
 "Then you must; and on my deed, you shall have the 
 parlour all to yourselves. Mother! Daisy! don't let them be 
 interrupted. I'll go and see about the vicarage this minute, 
 while you write and tell her to come. Let go my coat-tails, 
 there's a good boy, and I promise you as jolly a wedding as 
 you ever had in your life."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 LONDON AT LAST. 
 
 A JOURNEY to London had been for years an incubus to 
 the Earl ; it became real at last. He had made all his 
 arrangements, and calculated the expenses to a fraction. He 
 intended to take as few servants as possible with him, and to 
 leave those who remained at the Castle on board wages. He 
 heard, therefore, with satisfaction, that Lady Mona was wise 
 enough to propose that a situation in the country should be 
 found for Miss Manent, and that Morris should pay a visit to 
 her friends; while her ladyship would either content herself 
 with her mother's maid, or procure a temporary attendant in 
 town. The situation was found without difficulty, and the 
 Earl gave orders that Miss Manent should be properly for- 
 warded to Sir Shenkin Thomas's, of Plas, as soon as he and 
 his family were en route for town ; and that Morris should be 
 sent to her friends. Miss Manent was pleased with this arrange- 
 ment, for she was of that unambitious turn of mind that is 
 content to leave well-enough alone; and although her "well- 
 enough" had not been over good, she still desired nothing 
 better. Indeed, she had been so many years at the Castle that 
 she dreaded leaving it as much as if she really loved it ; and 
 she was, besides, fond of Wales. Morris, on the contrary, who 
 had been building her hopes of advancement, pleasure, and 
 even matrimony, on the visit to London, was grievously dis- 
 appointed. But the Earl's fiat went forth, and there was no 
 appeal. 
 
 His lordship was very busy on the eve of his departure. 
 He examined the Castle from dungeon to turret, and there
 
 LONDON AT LAST. 209 
 
 was a great sound of the grating of keys in rusty locks. In 
 short, every place was hermetically sealed that did not apper- 
 tain to the apartments in which the family actually lived, and 
 these he meditated closing after him. He concluded his 
 inspection by a solitary ride over that portion of his property 
 immediately surrounding the Castle, during which he called at 
 the vicarage and Aran Tower. He had an interview with his 
 bailiff and former gamekeeper at these respective places. He 
 told the former that he did not intend to begin the restoration 
 of the vicarage until his return from London, and that he was 
 to keep possession of it ; and with the latter he was closeted 
 a long time. 
 
 There was a stable at the Tower where he was in the habit 
 of putting up his horse, so that he felt comfortable concerning 
 that much-used beast. The Earl was fond of riding, and was 
 frequently on horseback at unseasonable hours, so that not 
 only Evan the Tower, but the peasants generally, were accus- 
 tomed to his being abroad even at midnight. The latter 
 whispered among themselves that his lordship had a troubled 
 spirit, and they even went so far as to say that when he went 
 up to the top of the Tower, and sat there, he received strange 
 visitants. But then the peasantry were superstitious, and 
 believed as much in the unseen as the seen. 
 
 On the evening in question, his lordship toiled up to his 
 observatory to scan earth, sea, and sky through his telescopes. 
 Then, as he again descended, he peered into the dark rooms 
 in the centre of the Tower, appropriated for the storing away of 
 wreckage, carefully locking them after him ; and finally sum- 
 moned Evan to a small room on the basement, appropriated to 
 his own use. It was a dark den, lighted only by a narrow 
 grated casement, whence little but ocean was visible. The Earl 
 sat with his back to the window, and Evan faced it, standing. 
 
 " You must keep a sharper look out," began his lordship. 
 " The wreckers get an undue share. There must have been 
 wrecks somewhere down the coast, but nothing has been 
 brought in. I say you are idle." 
 
 p
 
 2io THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Indeed, my lord, I do nothing else but look through the 
 glasses/' said Evan, humbly. " But since the witches have 
 lighted the fire on the Esgair, scarce a vessel comes within 
 sight at night. My belief is that they all get off." 
 
 "You will go every night to the Cader y Witch, until you 
 find out what that light is. I may be back sooner than you 
 expect, and this must be done while I am away — immediately, 
 indeed." 
 
 " Oh ! my lord. Please, my lord ! On my deed, my lord, 
 I couldn't be going there for all the wealth in this here place." 
 
 " You must ! That light shall be put out." 
 
 •• For mercy's sake, my lord, don't send me. I'm lame ever 
 since I went to look for my Lord Penruddock's guinea. I 
 should slip into the sea. I shouldn't so much as reach the 
 witches. And if I did — oh ! bless your heart, my lord ! they'd 
 make away with me. They're dancing there all night. The 
 fishermen are seeing them. Sometimes they're as thick as sea- 
 gulls on the rock, all in black and red, men-witches and women- 
 witches my lord •' and black dogs, and cats, and tall hats, and 
 sticks as big as trees , and they no more mind the waves, nor 
 the winds, nor the lightning, than they would so many hares or 
 rabbits, my lord. Send the parson, my lord, he's the man to 
 see to it ; not a poor lame, old, grey-headed, old ", 
 
 "Coward!" supplemented the Earl. "You must go. 
 Would you send me ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no, my lord, unless you are liking to go. What's the 
 good of risking your precious life, my lord ? And mine — well, 
 now, sure it's of use to myself, if to nobody else, and the 
 witches won't bear no interference. They'd as soon be taking 
 yours as mine, my lord ; they've no respect of persons." 
 
 "You— will— put — out — that — light ! " 
 
 As the Earl uttered those six words deliberately, Evan fell 
 on his knees in abject terror, and clasped his hands. The 
 Earl rose, and Evan laid hold of him. " For goodness' sake ! 
 for pity's sake, my lord ! I should die first ! " 
 
 But the inflexible Earl shook him off, put him, screaming
 
 LONDON AT LAST. 211 
 
 still, out of the room, locked the door, and went to the stable 
 for his horse. 
 
 It may be mentioned here that the Earl had often sighted 
 the Esgair of an evening through his telescopes, and had more 
 than once fancied that he saw a dim figure. But Caradoc had 
 so laid his plans as to approach the rock from the side not 
 facing the Tower, and, therefore, if he, Ap Adam, or Daisy 
 had been espied, it was by some mischance. 
 
 The following morning there was, as may be supposed, a 
 great stir at the Castle, and the Earl had much to do. It 
 would take three weeks, at least, for him, his family, and suite, 
 to travel post to London ; and he managed every detail him- 
 self. The coroneted coach-and-four stood long in the court, 
 while imperials and boxes were heaped upon it, and the other 
 carriages were not less delayed and weighted. 
 
 " Her ladyship might as well have put the Castle on wheels," 
 he grumbled, more than once, as package after package appeared. 
 
 The Countess and Lady Mona were, however, seated at last. 
 The Earl and Sir George Walpole were to face them. Lord 
 Penruddock declined, positively, to make one of the family 
 party, preferring a seat on the box — in the rumble — in another 
 carriage — or anywhere else. Every one in anywise connected 
 with the establishment was there to see the cortege set out. 
 Mr. Tudor was at the great door, Miss Manent at a humble 
 distance in the hall, the servants scattered about in the court, 
 and a crowd of tenants, labourers, and retainers without, lining 
 the drive. 
 
 Sir George Walpole appeared almost as busy as the Earl. 
 Not only was he helping in the general confusion, but he was 
 consoling such servants as were left behind by what seemed 
 unlimited vales. More than once the Earl whispered to him 
 to hold his hand — for nothing escaped him, — but none the less 
 did the rich nabob distribute. Miss Manent came in for her 
 part. Sir George had seen her once or twice with Lady Mona, 
 and, scarcely knowing whether she was friend or companion, 
 had spoken pleasantly to her. Seeing her with tears in her
 
 212 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 eyes, he went to her, and, with his usual loquacious courtesy, 
 told her that he wished to give her a wedding present — for, of 
 course, she would get married. 
 
 " You must buy it yourself, for I should not know what to 
 get," he said, forcing a ten-pound note into her hand, and 
 shaking it. 
 
 We need not wonder that her tears fell down. 
 
 " Will you see that Miss Manent is properly sent' to Plas?" 
 said the Earl to Mr. Tudor. " Sir George, will you get in — 
 opposite my daughter ? Are you all ready at last ? " he added, 
 grimly, to his following. 
 
 They were all ready. The two smart post-boys, with their 
 blue jackets and yellow breeches, flourished their whips, and 
 the liveried and powdered footmen mounted. 
 
 " Lock the great door, and keep the key till I return, 
 Tudor," said the Earl, touching the vicar's hand with two 
 fingers. "Where is Penruddock?" 
 
 " Here, my lord ! " shouted Lord Penruddock, from the top 
 of a large barouche containing domestics, male and female. 
 " I shall drive to Craigavon, where the posters await us." 
 
 When the Earl was in, Miss Manent ventured to the door. 
 Lady Mona, looking very pale and very handsome, kissed her 
 hand to her, and the Countess languidly waved hers. Miss 
 Manent treasured those farewell salutations in her memory 
 to the last day of her life. 
 
 " Write and tell me how you like Plas, "said Lady Mona. 
 
 " Is she going into a place ? " asked Sir George. 
 
 " To a situation as governess," replied Lady Mona. 
 
 " Lock and bar the doors and gates. I shall not let Bryn- 
 hafod, nor restore the vicarage, at present ; and I hold you re- 
 sponsible during my absence," whispered the Earl to Mr. Tudor. 
 
 With these words the four ill-restrained greys started, pran- 
 cing through the court and portcullis in lordly fashion. The 
 other carriages followed, and thus the fruition of the Lady 
 Mona's desires commenced. Once more she nodded to Miss 
 Manent, who stood with Mr. Tudor in the court to watch the
 
 LONDON AT LAST. 213 
 
 procession until it disappeared amongst the trees in the centre 
 of the promontory. A cheer from the spectators outside fol- 
 lowed the last carriage, which was taken up by the domestics 
 within the court, and a sense of relief fell on every soul as the 
 Earl of Craigavon departed from his castle. 
 
 "Sit down here a few minutes," said Mr. Tudor to Miss 
 Manent, as they returned to the hall. 
 
 She obeyed, hastily brushing off a tear. 
 
 " You, at least, have no cause for grief," he said. 
 
 " This has been my home for so many years ! " she sighed. 
 
 " Home ! I wish I could offer you a permanent one/' he 
 rejoined, impulsively for him. 
 
 " You ! " she exclaimed, scarcely understanding him. 
 
 " Yes, if you would accept it. I have watched your patient 
 endurance until I have longed to end it, if you would let me ; 
 but I seem myself harassed more and more. I should not have 
 spoken now, did you not seem unhappy, and alone. Perhaps 
 it may console you to know that you have one friend who de- 
 sires to be to you nearer and dearer than all the world besides." 
 
 Miss Manent glanced at him with a look of intense surprise, 
 and the words, " You, Mr. Tudor — and — me ! " 
 
 "You are not offended? I have loved you long, and 
 desired to ask you to be my wife." 
 
 She covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. 
 The emotion, partly suppressed, ot sorrow gave way before the 
 sudden joy. She could not believe that she, the friendless 
 orphan, was the chosen of this man, whom she reverenced as 
 the kindest and best she had ever known, and whom she would 
 have loved had she dared. He saw that she could not speak, 
 and did not venture to approach near to her, because there 
 were servants about. They sat apart, with a marble pillar 
 between them, and their voices were low. He was timid to a 
 fault, she scarcely more resolute, both having been cowed by 
 circumstances stronger than they. 
 
 " Don't give way, dear Miss Manent," he said, humbly, 
 moving irresolutely on the coroneted oak chair, and grating
 
 214 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the tesselated pavement. " We shall be observed ; and the 
 Earl has left his myrmidons behind him. You are going to 
 Brynhafod, and there we may speak unheard ; only I wished 
 to say this first, because the Pennants are impulsive, and care 
 for no man. If you love me ever so little, could you be con- 
 tent to wait ? " 
 
 " Patiently — gladly— joyously," she whispered, her tears still 
 flowing. 
 
 " I dare not defy the Earl, as Mr. Pennant wishes, for my 
 brother's situation and my mother's livelihood may depend 
 upon it. I cannot eject the bailiff from the vicarage, for I 
 owe the living to the Earl. I could scarcely venture to marry 
 to displease him, lest he should visit it upon others." 
 
 " You must not — he is so powerful !" breathed Miss Manent. 
 
 "And yet I know I am a coward !" exclaimed the parson, 
 rising suddenly, and leaning against the pillar close to her. 
 
 Footsteps were heard hard by. 
 
 " Will you walk to Brynhafod, and allow me to send your 
 boxes after you?" he asked aloud, without looking round. 
 " The Earl has commissioned me to see the remaining doors 
 locked." 
 
 "If you please," she replied, rising and glancing up at him, 
 surprised by his change of manner. 
 
 Turning, she encountered Morris. 
 
 " Good-bye, Miss Manent. I am just going on my visit, 
 and I suppose you will be leaving your situation ? " said that 
 worthy, emphasizing the last word. 
 
 " Miss Manent is going to. Brynhafod, and probably to my 
 mother's afterwards," said Mr. Tudor, who could be decided 
 enough sometimes. 
 
 "Oh, indeed ! " said the supercilious Abigail. 
 
 " Will you come with me, Mrs. Morris ? " asked Miss 
 Manent, trembling lest she should have overheard the previous 
 conversation. 
 
 They went away together, leaving Mr. Tudor to the dis- 
 agreeable office of locking the great door. Miss Manent's
 
 LONDON AT LAST. 21 5 
 
 step was light as she ran up the big staircase, and down the 
 corridors to her old schoolroom — hers no longer. Had she 
 not a vicarage and love in the dim perspective ? Was there 
 not hope below all her Pandora's box of troubles ? 
 
 iS I have worked you these trifles, if you will accept them," 
 she said cheerily, taking a pair of screens from a mass of 
 articles in bead and tapestry. " I wish I could afford to offer 
 you a handsomer remembrance." 
 
 " And sure I am obliged to you. They are sweetly pretty ! " 
 returned Morris, surprised into civility by the gift. 
 
 Then Miss Manent held out her hand, and they separated. 
 
 When Morris was gone she gathered the other articles into 
 a reticule, and with a strange light in her eyes, and heightened 
 complexion, went, hesitating, to the housekeeper's room, and 
 there distributed them to the servants who remained at the 
 Castle. 
 
 "They are not worth much, but they are my own work," 
 she said, with a humility that was not quite so humble as it 
 had been ; for was there not that vista in the distance? 
 
 Her pretty gifts were much admired and gratefully received 
 by those who had sometimes pitied and been kind to the 
 lonely governess. 
 
 "And, indeed, there's sorry I am that you're going!" said 
 the Welsh housemaid who had waited upon her, as Miss 
 Manent handed her an elaborate toilette pincushion. 
 
 Having shaken hands timidly with these people, who might 
 some day be her parishioners, she returned to her apartments. 
 Her small possessions were carefully packed, and she asked 
 her friend, the housemaid, who had followed her, to watch 
 over them until they were despatched. The consciousness 
 that Mr. Tudor had promised to see to them sent a glow to 
 her cheek, although she was too prudent and shy to confide 
 that fact to her companion. The Earl had paid her what was 
 due to her, and the ladies had made her some trifling presents ; 
 and thus, after fifteen years' service, she left inhospitable 
 Craigavon Castle for hospitable Brynhafod— and left it with 
 tears in her gentle eyes.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SICKNESS AT THE FARM. 
 
 AT the farm, speculations touching the Vicar's wedding, 
 and even grief at the prospect of change, were over- 
 whelmed by the sudden illness of Michael. He was taken 
 in the field with that terrible premonitory symptom — the 
 bursting of a small blood-vessel. Happily Caradoc was at 
 home, and remedies were at hand, so that he was at once 
 attended to. But the general anxiety was great. Mrs. 
 Pennant gave way to her old nervous weakness when she saw 
 him led into the house by one of the men, pale and very 
 feeble ; and, but for Daisy, she would have sadly excited him. 
 While Caradoc got him to bed, and administered the proper 
 remedies, aided by Marget, Daisy tried to soothe his mother. 
 
 "This trouble was too much for him. He will be the next 
 — he will be the next ! " was Mrs. Pennant's cry. 
 
 " Carad says it is a trifling seizure, dear mother," argued 
 Daisy, herself pale and terrified. 
 
 " They all began so," moaned Mrs. Pennant. " Why don't 
 father and grandfather come ? " 
 
 Daisy did not dare to say that they had ridden over to look 
 at Coed Bach farm. 
 
 Thanks to Caradoc's prompt measures, and the mercy of 
 their Heavenly Father, however, Michael was soon relieved, 
 and able to see his mother and Daisy. 
 
 " Only a few minutes, mother," said Caradoc, cheerfully, 
 when they had entered his room. " If he is kept quiet to-day 
 he will be better to-morrow. He mustn't talk." 
 
 "And that Miss Manent coming !" muttered Marget. 
 
 216
 
 SICKNESS AT THE FARM. 2\J 
 
 Michael was taken ill just before the Earl's departure, and 
 preparations for Miss Manent were in progress. As he lay on 
 his bed, he looked so delicate that it seemed wonderful how 
 he had managed to keep up so long. He had never, volun- 
 tarily, given way before, and would not have done so now 
 but for the accident already mentioned, caused, humanly 
 speaking, by over-straining, in extricating a sheep from a pre- 
 cipitous place into which it had fallen. 
 
 " I am well now, mother, thanks to Carad," he whispered, 
 looking from Mrs. Pennant to Daisy, and smiling. 
 
 His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright, so the anxious 
 women were fain to believe his words. Caradoc's skill, de- 
 cision, and tact were soon apparent, for he ordered quiet, and 
 asked Daisy to be nurse. 
 
 " You and Marget will have to make some of your famous 
 jellies and custards to feed him up, while Daisy and I see 
 that he swallows them," he said to his mother. " I think we 
 can manage him amongst us now we have him on his back for 
 a few days." 
 
 "And Monad?" whispered Michael. 
 
 " We will send Mr. Tudor to preach there. The Earl will 
 have left by this time," replied Caradoc, significantly. 
 
 He then took his mother from the room, beckoning to 
 Marget to follow, and left Michael and Daisy together. 
 
 " You must not talk. Read him to sleep, Daisy," he said, 
 with his loving, lingering smile. 
 
 Then he reasoned Mrs. Pennant into comparative quiet, 
 though a sob and the words, " He's sure to go ; they all do," 
 escaped from time to time. 
 
 However, distraction and occupation soon arrived in the 
 person of Miss Manent. Since her acquaintance with the 
 family at the farm, this lady had set herself to learn Welsh ; 
 and during her brief walk thither on the present occasion, she 
 had resolved to perfect herself in that difficult tongue, with a 
 view to future work in her prospective parish. Those few 
 words uttered by the parson had turned the whole course of
 
 2l8 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 her existence. She was no longer the lonely governess, an 
 orphan and retainer, but a free agent, beloved and loving. 
 
 Mrs. Pennant was aroused from her lamentations at sight of 
 her vivacious countenance, and Marget exclaimed at her 
 marvellous attempt at Welsh. Caradoc perceived at once 
 that, instead of being an additional burden in the present 
 emergency, Miss Manent might prove a help and blessing. 
 
 He told her in a few words what had happened, and asked 
 her if she would kindly cheer his mother, while he and Daisy 
 were engaged with Michael. She had certainly never been 
 required to cheer any one before, and another hope and light 
 burst upon her. 
 
 " If only I could ! " she exclaimed, looking at Mrs. Pennant's 
 .ace, usually placid to inanition, now clouded with grief. 
 
 "Mother, you must help Miss Manent with her Welsh," 
 said Carad, cheerfully. 
 
 "I'm sure I should be very glad, my dear, but I'm thinking 
 of Michael. Will you walk upstairs, ma'am ? " was the reply. 
 
 " If you please, do not call me ma'am" pleaded Miss 
 Manent, putting her hand timidly into Mrs. Pennant's. 
 
 "Very well, my dear," returned that obedient matron. 
 "What is your Christian name ? " 
 
 "Emily." 
 
 " A pretty-sounding name. But you are looking almost as 
 delicate as Michael. You must have milk fresh from the cow 
 to set you up before you go to Plas." 
 
 Later in the day, when old Pennant and his son had re- 
 turned, and had been made acquainted with Michael's state, 
 circumstances transpired with regard to Miss Manent's en- 
 gagement at Plas which were anything but satisfactory. 
 Sir Shenkin Thomas, in the course of discussion concerning 
 the estate which the Pennants had gone to look over, had 
 naturally spoken of the Earl. He asked David Pennant if he 
 knew Miss Manent, and being answered in the affirmative, said 
 that a misunderstanding had arisen concerning her between 
 Lady Mona and his wife, Lady Thomas. Lady Mona had as-
 
 SICKNESS AT THE FARM. 219 
 
 sumed, without positive grounds, that Lady Thomas had actually 
 engaged her, and had written the evening before her departure 
 for London to say that she was ready. The facts of the 
 case were, that Lady Thomas was in treaty with another gover- 
 ness at the same time, and having to choose between the two, 
 made choice of that other rather than Miss Manent, who had 
 appeared to her incapable of undertaking several pupils. Thus 
 poor Miss Manent was literally on the Pennant's hands, who, 
 at that time, could ill-afford to help her. Her sudden good 
 spirits were soon depressed. 
 
 " I — I — will go into the town and take lodgings till I get 
 another situation," she said. 
 
 " You will do no such thing," rejoined David Pennant. " As 
 long as we are here, you are welcome ; and then — why, we 
 must consult the parson," he chuckled, good-humouredly. 
 
 " The Father of the fatherless will provide for her, and He 
 has put her into our care at present," was the old farmer's 
 decisive opinion ; and Miss Manent remained at Brynhafod. 
 
 She was afterwards pronounced to be God-sent; for she 
 made herself so useful to Mrs. Pennant, not only in amusing 
 her by her bad Welsh, but in doing much needlework for her, 
 that Michael's illness became tempered to that worthy woman. 
 Mr. Tudor was also a frequent visitor, so that pressing anxieties 
 were lost sight of in her desire to entertain her guests. Pressing 
 enough they were, nevertheless, as may be imagined. 
 
 Michael's illness was the most urgent. Although Caradoc 
 made as light of it as he could, he was not easy in his mind. 
 Consumption had been their family disease, as, indeed, it was 
 the terrible scourge of the mountainous district in which they 
 lived. The humidity of the climate engendered it, and there 
 was little chance of Michael's getting out of the climate. More- 
 over, Caradoc feared that there was some trouble on his mind. 
 Watching him narrowly, he remarked that there was restraint 
 in his manner with Daisy, and he could but think it was on 
 Lord Penruddock's account. Daisy waited on him assiduously, 
 and was natural and affectionate as ever , too much so, Caradoc
 
 220 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 thought, for one in love. " In love ! " The words came to 
 him unsought. What a treasure would be Daisy's love to him 
 who won it in its entirety ! and now, if ever, was Michael's time. 
 So thought Caradoc, whose almost womanly tenderness for his 
 brother increased tenfold during his illness. Indeed, neither 
 he nor Daisy seemed to have appreciated Michael before. 
 They had all loved him, but scarcely understood him. 
 
 Michael had a character of remarkable depth, which no 
 friend had as yet sounded ; and as he lay or sat about during 
 the first week of his indisposition, traits were continually appear- 
 ing that no one had perceived in his previous every-day life. 
 He, Caradoc, and Daisy were almost always together, joined, 
 of course, by the other members of the family at intervals ; and 
 this close intimacy seemed to bring them nearer than ever. 
 Still they were only groping into one another's minds, which is, 
 after all, what the dearest of friends are reduced to do. 
 
 The truth was that Michael's delicate organization had 
 received a shock at the announcement of the Earl's decision 
 concerning the lease. Saying nothing, he had felt the more. 
 His heart and interests were at Brynhafod ; and since he had 
 taken upon himself to seek to benefit the Monad people, and 
 to identify himself with Daisy in the work, he had conceived 
 the hope of being of service to his fellow-creatures, and labour- 
 ing for his God. He was fully aware of Lord Penruddock's 
 admiration of Daisy, even before she was herself, for he had 
 noticed it when they met on that Sunday at Monad, as well as 
 at church. Indeed, he was of such a thoughtful, discriminating 
 spirit that he often saw what others did not, and knew what they 
 attempted to conceal from him. Although he had never 
 breathed a word to Daisy that a brother might not say to a 
 sister, he was as well aware as she was that they were intended 
 by his parents for one another, and he had somehow accepted 
 the happy fact, without analysing his own feelings, or sound- 
 ing hers. They were both young, and their lives had flowed 
 onward together like two sweet streams — side by side, and 
 seemingly to be united at last He had never paused to
 
 SICKNESS AT THE FARM. 221 
 
 think that such streams sometimes stray far apart as they pursue 
 their course, or to ask whether the fair and shining waves of 
 Daisy's existence were to join the humbler and darker ones of 
 his. It was now that he began to watch, and reason, and 
 question ; and this was why there was restraint in his manners 
 with her he loved so dearly. Brynhafod, that he had instinctively 
 regarded as his and her future home, when their elders should 
 cast off their " mortal coil," was to be theirs no longer, and the 
 rude shock that broke up his visionary prospects of living and 
 dying where they had grown up together, seemed to arouse him 
 to the possibility of other changes. 
 
 Daisy, on the other hand, grew ever more and more tender 
 towards him, as if she felt she had in some sort estranged him, 
 and were conscious of some other attraction that drew her inner- 
 most soul away from him. She read to him, talked to him, sang 
 him his favourite hymns, supported him when he was able to 
 go out, and showed him a love that seemed passing that of a 
 sister. 
 
 " They shall marry, please God he gets well ! " said David 
 Pennant to Caradoc. "You think he will get well — eh, 
 Carad ? " 
 
 " I hope so, father. There are no dangerous symptoms as 
 yet ; but he must have rest and care." 
 
 " How is he to have them now we must be moving? There 
 will be nothing but bother and bustle until it is all over, and he 
 will be sadly wanted. I tell you what it is, Carad, matters are 
 even worse than they seem. We have spent every penny as we 
 got it on the land, which is now first-rate, and if we go to Coed 
 Bach shall have to begin again upon poor, neglected property, 
 with nothing but our stock ; for assuredly the Earl will take 
 the crop. Your grandfather is old, I am not young, Michael 
 too ill to work, and you a doctor. The prospect is gloomy 
 enough." 
 
 " Sunshine will come, father." 
 
 As Caradoc spoke those hopeful words, the long-expected Ap 
 Adam entered the hall. It was his wont to return as if he had
 
 222 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 not been away, and as he expressed his dislike to " good-bye's " 
 and " how d'ye do's," his friends generally received him accord- 
 ing to his fancy. On the present occasion, however, he broke 
 in upon them like a whirlwind. He had heard of what had 
 befallen at the farm, and was full of wrath and distress. 
 
 " Sunshine ! " he exclaimed, catching Caradoc's word. 
 " How, is Michael ? If anything happened to the lad, I lay it 
 at the Earl's door, The miserly cur ! " 
 
 " Hush, master ! " exclaimed David Pennant. " Thou art 
 more put out than I was. I longed to call him hard names, 
 but had the grace given to abstain. We have had a friend of 
 yours here looking after you — the Honourable General Sir 
 George Walpole." 
 
 " I have no friends honourables or generals. He has mis- 
 taken me for another. I am come to take Michael's place in 
 the farm, and am off to work as soon as I have seen him and 
 Daisy and the mistress." 
 
 " They are in the parlour," said Caradoc. 
 
 " Come with me, then," said Ap Adam, meaningly, and they 
 left the room together. 
 
 Not at once for the parlour, however. Ap Adam led the 
 way to the schoolroom, where they had a long talk over all that 
 had occurred during his absence. He would acknowledge no 
 acquaintanceship with Sir George Walpole, and when told that 
 that gentleman had offered aid in return for kindness shown him, 
 he walked up and down the room excitedly, exclaiming at his 
 impertinence, and then changed the subject to one of more 
 interest, as he expressed it. 
 
 " I find that your beacon is creating a sensation among sailors 
 and fishermen," he said. " They all know it now ; and I heard 
 one old sea-captain declare that, whether it was the work of 
 angel or demon, it was a good one, for there was not a tithe of 
 the wrecks there used to be. Who has been tending it lately ? " 
 
 " I have," replied Caradoc. " But the nights have been light 
 and the weather calm, so I have only kindled it now and then. 
 I suspect that the Earl has been watching, for I have seen him
 
 SICKNESS AT THE FARM. 223 
 
 on horseback as near the place as he could venture. We have 
 met more than once, and he has questioned me about it." 
 
 " I will undertake it for the next few weeks," said Ap Adam. 
 " He won't question me. But to be sure, he is absent. How- 
 ever, we must put him off your scent ; and, if he is set upon 
 mine — why, ' The Wise Man of the Mountains,' as I hear my- 
 self called, will circumvent him." 
 
 " At any rate, we can manage it between us," remarked 
 Caradoc. " Daisy must not be implicated." 
 
 " Certainly not ; for the wreckers all down the coast mutter 
 curses on 'The Witch of the Esgair.'"
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 
 
 •' ' "T) E careful to entertain strangers, for in so doing you 
 
 JC) may entertain angels unawares,' " quoted old Mr. 
 Pennant to his son and grandson, as they sat in what was called 
 Daisy's bower, at the bottom of the garden. " See how Daisy 
 has nursed Michael well again ; how the Master works for us ; 
 and how Miss Manent takes care of mother ! " 
 
 " I wish the parson and Miss Manent would make a match 
 of it," remarked David. "I never saw such a pair of lovers in 
 my life ! Afraid of the Earl, indeed ! Do they think he'd be 
 down upon 'em all the way from London if they ventured to 
 take a sly kiss ? That wasn't how mother and I made love. 
 And there's Michael and Daisy as cool as birds in the dawning. 
 They used to kiss good-night and good-morning, and now they 
 never do." 
 
 Caradoc stooped to stroke Gwylfa, who lay at his feet. 
 
 " I have been observing that they are more distant than they 
 used to be," returned the old man, thoughtfully. " What is the 
 reason, Carad?" 
 
 " Since I have been so much from home, grandfather, I have 
 not noticed," was the answer. " Sir Shenkin Thomas says you 
 may have Coed Bach on your own terms." 
 
 Caradoc's practice was rapidly increasing ; and his attendance 
 on Lady Mona Rhys had been a passport to other aristocratic 
 mansions. 
 
 " I would rather live and die in our shepherd's hut than go 
 
 there ! " cried the farmer. 
 
 224
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 22$ 
 
 " Oh ! my son, think of your wife and children/' said his 
 father, laying his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Well, we are driven to it. Ap Adam says he would go to 
 law, and I believe we might make a case. 
 
 " ' Let him that would take thy coat, take thy cloak also,' " 
 said the old man mildly. 
 
 " The Earl has done that already,' - ' groaned David Pennant, 
 who grew daily more and more unsettled as the months went 
 on, and began to neglect his work. 
 
 It was now June and hay-harvest, and all hands were needed 
 while the weather was fine. The crop was pretty good, but the 
 haymakers, like their masters, were sorely despondent. They 
 felt that it was the last time they would all labour together, and 
 the jest fell heavily, the song was sad. 
 
 " May I arrange about the farm, father ? " said Caradoc. 
 " Let me take it, and have done with it. It is nearer Pen- 
 ruddock than this; and if I settle there, as I must if I get 
 on " 
 
 "You! What, are you going to leave us? Is that all the 
 good the Master has done us ? " 
 
 "Not yet, father; but, if Michael should marry, you will 
 not want me— and town is more suitable than country for a 
 doctor's house." 
 
 " Marry, sir ! Don't you see that Daisy's head is turned ? 
 She thinks no more of Michael than of you. The Castle 
 has been the ruin of us all. Like father, like son. They 
 won't be satisfied till they have destroyed, not only our pro- 
 perty, but our peace." David Pennant pointed to the grim 
 towers of Craigavon, seen from the bower. "The Earl, and 
 his son after him, will have it all their own way when we are 
 gone. Tudor had better let me build up his house before I 
 resign my churchwardenship," he continued ; " but he hasn't 
 the spirit of a mouse. I say the Earl shall send the bailiffs 
 and turn me out before I leave Brynhafod. We haven't been 
 here for generations to be ejected without a struggle. Where 
 are Michael and Daisy ? Go and see after them, Carad. It is 
 
 Q
 
 226 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 not safe for them to be alone about the hills; Michael may 
 have another attack." 
 
 Caradoc left his grandfather and father together to go in 
 search. He was not free from uneasiness about Michael 
 himself, but still more anxious concerning his father, whose 
 irritability of temperament increased daily. He saw that this 
 unusual excitability disturbed his grandfather, and he watched 
 the old man with a constant fear lest the strain put upon him 
 in endeavouring to calm his son should result in uprooting the 
 aged oak. But the roots of the tree were so surely laid in 
 God's own soil, that neither tempest nor undermining could 
 move them ; they would keep firm until the Divine Hand 
 should gently loosen them. 
 
 As Caradoc left the arbour he glanced back upon father and 
 son, and saw the hand of the elder man laid on the shoulder of 
 the younger, and his white head turned towards the perturbed 
 face. He prayed that resignation might be granted to his father 
 as well as to himself, for he knew that they both needed it. 
 
 He went into the house, and found his mother and Miss 
 Manent engaged in preparations for supper. The latter had 
 grown quite sprightly, and was in treaty for a situation with the 
 wife of a clergyman living at a distance, whose husband was 
 a friend of Mr. Tudor's. That gentleman came to the farm 
 when he could, but had not ventured to renew the subject 
 nearest their hearts. What with his parish, the Earl, and his 
 mother, he was much oppressed by the burden of respon- 
 sibility. However, he visited Monad, accompanied by Daisy 
 and Miss Manent, and tried to take up Michael's work. But 
 the people were strangely suspicious of a clergyman, while 
 eager for Michael, whom they trusted. 
 
 Miss Manent had seen Michael on horseback, with Daisy 
 walking by his side, amongst the haymakers on the hill ; so 
 Caradoc made for this spot. Here he found Ap Adam hard 
 at work in his shirt-sleeves, who said the absentees had gone 
 farther. Caradoc ventured to hint to the Master that it might 
 be well not to urge his father to maintain the farm, but Ap
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER, 227 
 
 Adam disagreed with him. He said that the Earl had for- 
 gotten to give notice to quit, and had probably imagined that 
 the expiration of the lease was notice enough ; but " possession 
 was nine points of the law," and the Earl would find it difficult 
 to turn them out without legal notice. 
 
 " I will have a tussle, if no one else will," said Ap Adam, as 
 Caradoc went on his way. 
 
 Skirting the hill, Caradoc walked quietly towards another 
 hayfield, whence his grandfather and father had come. He 
 thought of many things, for, indeed, his life's plot was hourly 
 thickening. His profession, the expected change of abode, 
 his father's altered temper, his mother's uncertain nerves, his 
 grandfather's advanced age, their means of existence expended 
 on the Earl's property, the future management of the beacon, 
 Michael's illness, and, above all, Daisy's decision, weighed 
 down his usually buoyant spirit. He had seen little of Daisy 
 of late. While Michael was confined to the house they had 
 been thrown together, but since that time he had avoided her, 
 he scarcely knew why. Her manner towards him had grown 
 strangely distant and cold, and he could only account for it 
 by the fact of his involuntary interference in the affair of Lord 
 Penruddock. 
 
 While he was meditating over these things during his slow 
 walk, Michael and Daisy were seated on a haycock in the hill- 
 field which he was approaching. Michael had ridden thus far, 
 and, feeling fatigued, had dismounted a while. The horse was 
 feeding near them, and the haymakers whom they had come to 
 superintend, were loading a wagon at a distance. They had 
 b^en engaged in a conversation so earnest that they had for- 
 gotten their surroundings, time, and fatigue. 
 
 "Daisy," Michael had begun, "I can never thank you enough 
 for all your care of me. I am nearly well, and I owe my 
 recovery, with God's blessing on the means, to Carad and you." 
 
 "Oh! Michael," she answered, "not to me, but to Carad. 
 I but carried out his wise orders." 
 
 "Truly, he is wise, good, and handsome," said Michael,
 
 228 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 fixing his thoughtful eyes on Daisy, who coloured beneath 
 his gaze. " Why are you shy with him, and, indeed, of late, 
 with me? Is it because our hearts are too much bound up in 
 you, Daisy ? " 
 
 She cast down her eyes, and was silent. 
 
 " We have been brothers and sisters so long," he continued, 
 " that it seems difficult to feel that we are not so. But, dear 
 Daisy, will you try to return to the old feelings, and look on 
 me really as— as — your brother — only your brother? While I 
 was ill I thought and saw much that I had not thought of or 
 seen before. I am changed in many ways, and have tried to 
 be resigned to leaving this dear place ; but I cannot bear your 
 estrangement." 
 
 "I am not conscious of estrangement, Michael." 
 
 " I know that, dear ; but I suppose illness makes us sensitive. 
 You have been a devoted nurse to me, but I fear the old love 
 has vanished. Is it my fault ? " 
 
 " Oh ! Michael, dear Michael ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 She laid her hand on his, and looked into his face. 
 
 " Now thou art our own Daisy once more," he said, taking 
 her hand in both his. " Listen to me, sister. You know how 
 well we love you, and how your happiness is dear to us all as 
 our own — dearer, indeed ! " 
 
 " Do I not belong to you, Michael? Am I not one of you? 
 Pray do not make me fancy that I am — alone." 
 
 " You cannot be alone, dear, while we live. But I wish you 
 to feel free, not bound in any way to us, because you have 
 been so graciously given to us. It is difficult for me to explain 
 myself, still you must understand me. I think our parents 
 have been making a mistake all these years." 
 
 Michael's voice faltered, his pale cheeks flushed, and his 
 hands grasped Daisy's convulsively. She trembled all over, 
 and turned pale and cold. What did he mean ? He con- 
 tinued low and calm : 
 
 " I have schooled myself to love you only as a brother, 
 darling. Brother and sister. Is there a sweeter tie? I can
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 229 
 
 bear to think that your innermost heart is given to another, if 
 only you will restore to me your sisterly love. Now I have said 
 this I shall have perfect peace." 
 
 Daisy could neither speak nor look at him, but her breast 
 heaved, and her tears rose. How often she had longed for 
 some such explanation as this ; and now it had come from 
 him, she felt as if her heart would break ! 
 
 " I know it is best, dear. Say you understand me," he 
 added. " I have my work to do, God sparing me, and would 
 begin it, as our Lord did, freed from self." 
 
 She looked into his face fearfully. She dreaded to see some 
 convulsive struggle there, and, perhaps, symptoms of a fresh 
 seizure. She saw only an unearthly sweetness and tenderness. 
 She had never loved him so well before ; never known how 
 strong he was in his seeming weakness. 
 
 " Dear Michael, I am in your hands ! Make of me what 
 you will. Think of me as you will," she said. 
 
 He put his arm tenderly round her waist. 
 
 " Brother and sister, then, once more, and for ever ; and 
 may God guide you in that other choice, which you, not I, 
 must make ! " he said, and kissed her. 
 
 That great Being alone knew what Michael's struggle had 
 been, or what was the inward peace that succeeded it. 
 
 It was at this moment that Caradoc and Gwylfa approached 
 them. They were unconscious of it, but Caradoc saw them, 
 and retreated awhile. 
 
 " Has he, then, taken courage and told her. and has she said 
 she loves him ? " he asked himself, his own heart ceasing to 
 beat for the moment. 
 
 He looked again, and they were separated, and sat together 
 in silence. He moved towards them, and both started, turning 
 red, as if for shame. Caradoc said that he had been sent to 
 look for them, and they rose, half unconsciously. He led the 
 horse to Michael, who mounted with but few words. Then the 
 trio began to descend the hill in the sunset, Caradoc and Daisy 
 walking silently on eiiler side their loving and devoted brother.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 EVAN THE TOWER. 
 
 EVAN THE TOWER obeyed the Earl's orders to the 
 extent of his courage. He prowled about the Esgair 
 from twilight to nightfall— now hiding under cover of the rocks 
 in the depths below ; now concealing himself in the brushwood 
 near the escarpment itself, but he never ventured to face the 
 witches on the Cader. Limping here, halting there, he watched 
 from a distance ; but not even for dear life could he dare to 
 extinguish the fire. More than once he saw Caradoc near the 
 spot, but could not ascertain whether he was merely passing 
 accidentally or not. He also thought he recognised Daisy on 
 one occasion ; but she was always about the hills and rocks at 
 unseasonable hours, so there was nothing remarkable in her 
 appearance ; besides, the witches wore scarlet cloaks, and 
 might even personate her. He had decidedly recognised Ap 
 Adam, who, being less agile and clear-sighted than the others, 
 did not manage the work quite so skilfully. Still he could not 
 declare, and did not believe, that either of these church-going 
 people would be wicked enough to consort with the spirits of 
 the Esgair. Instead of spending his evenings in the Earl's 
 observatory, looking out for wrecks, he now passed them in 
 trying to discover how those wrecks were prevented ; but he 
 knew well enough that, unless he could plant himself on the 
 other side of the witch's chair, he should never succeed. 
 Besides, he was not quite sure that he wished to succeed. 
 Since Michael had taken to preaching at Monad, he had felt 
 many qualms of conscience, and began to think that it wa;
 
 EVAN THE TOWER. 23 1 
 
 nigh time the wreckers should cease their trade, even though 
 the Earl lost his tithes, and he himself his dwelling in the 
 Tower. 
 
 Summer was not a propitious season for Evan's watch, since 
 the beacon was not often lighted during the short nights. 
 Occasionally, however, when there was no moon, and a threat- 
 ening of a storm, it would be kindled. But as this was only 
 known from the sea, Evan was none the wiser, and his imagin- 
 ation always pictured the Esgair crowded with witches from 
 night to morning. 
 
 One evening in July he had hobbled down to Monad to pay 
 a visit to Davy Jones, the fisherman, who was ill. He found 
 Daisy in his hut. She had brought the wicked old man some 
 nourishing food, and was inducing him to listen to a few verses 
 of the Bible. She did not pause to inquire if the bodily had 
 paved the way for the spiritual, because she was used to his 
 declarations that " he didn't believe a word of it ; only she 
 was a pretty young lady, and could be reading if she liked." 
 When Evan appeared, she was seated, book in hand, on a 
 rickety stool near Davy, who was on the settle, rapidly swallow- 
 ing the broth she had brought him. The word.-;, " Though 
 your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow," greeted 
 him, as he made his w T ay to Davy through the women and 
 children that stood within and about the door of the low hut. 
 
 People wondered that Daisy ventured alone to Monad, and 
 tried to dissuade her from it ; but she was fearless, and her 
 beauty and natural dignity carried her through, where grey 
 hairs or careless deportment might have failed. She had some- 
 times seen sights and heard sounds that made her shudder ; 
 still she persevered. When she rose to go, Davy shook hands 
 with her — a favour he had never shown her before. 
 
 " There, Miss. Twas good broth. Go you and preach to 
 somebody who believes : I don't ! " he growled. 
 
 " It is God's own Word," she replied boldly. " We shall 
 all be judged by it at the last day. Dr. Pennant will visit you 
 this evening, he says. Evan, may I go and see Betto ? "
 
 232 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Well, I suppose so," replied Evan. " But she's locked in." 
 
 Daisy knew how distasteful this " locking in " was to poor 
 Betto, and therefore made no resistance when Evan proposed 
 to return to the Tower and let her in. They went together, 
 and while Daisy remained to bear Betto company, Evan 
 hobbled away to take up his watch near the Esgair, muttering, 
 " Nobody '11 turn in to-night, and the Earl's away if they do." 
 
 When he reached the solitary spot, it was about eight o'clock. 
 The air was sultry, the sky threatening, and he remembered 
 that there would be no moon. It was just possible that the 
 witches might light their beacon to dance by, so he would at 
 least be on the look-out. He seated himself on the turf of the 
 tableland that faced the rock, under cover of a large furze- 
 bush. He was all of a tremble, for even at this distance he 
 never felt safe. The Esgair was about half a mile from the 
 Tower, and on the farther side of the Castle and Brynhafod, 
 so he was not a little surprised to see Daisy approach when he 
 had been in hiding about a quarter of an hour. He naturally 
 thought that when she left the Tower she would return home, 
 and not cross the cliffs in the opposite direction. He watched 
 her dainty figure glide over the greensward, climb the stone 
 fence, and finally disappear down the side of one rock, to re- 
 appear on the skirts of the Esgair. She was soon out of sight, 
 and he saw her no more. Yes, he was positive it was Miss 
 Pennant, for had he not left her at the Tower, and had she not 
 come direct from thence ? Either she was one of the actual 
 witches, or she had gone to look after them. Still, she must 
 have her Bible with her, and could scarcely be a witch, carry- 
 ing a counter-charm ; for even with the worst people that book 
 was sacred. Evan was much puzzled, and a spark of courage 
 was kindled by curiosity, so that he made up his mind to 
 adventure farther ; only — not to-night. 
 
 While watching intently for Daisy, he was startled by another 
 figure, also approaching from the direction of the Tower. It 
 looked like Dr. Pennant, but then what should bring him away 
 from his homeward path? If he had been to see Davy Jones,
 
 EVAN THE TOWER. 233 
 
 as Miss Daisy had said, he would scarcely wander towards the 
 Esgair, where there were no habitations and no patients. But 
 there was no one else in those parts so tall, erect, and well 
 dressed ; and Evan felt sure that it was either Caradoc or a 
 witch assuming his shape. He disappeared and reappeared 
 just where Daisy had, and Evan believed that they must both 
 have fallen into the sea, for they were seen no more. 
 
 " The Earl is right," he muttered. " Those Pennants make 
 believe to be better than they are. That Ap Adam done 'em 
 no good. He's always spying about, and haven't worrited the 
 old stones and all the roots of the field for nothing. They're 
 a'league with the witches ; that is if my eyes aren't deceiving 
 me, for I am sometimes seeing double." 
 
 Evan rubbed his eyes, which were not straight set in his head, 
 and the superstition of second-sight came to his mind. Some 
 heavy drops of rain fell upon the furze-bush. 
 
 " Maybe I'll be hearing of the death of them young pipples," 
 he said ; and fearing lest the actual witches should be upon 
 him next, as well as the storm, he rose, and limped homewards. 
 
 He knew very well that the Tower and Betto were safe at all 
 hours ; so, the Earl being happily in London, he did not hurry. 
 He was trying to make out a good case against his lordship's 
 return, which he heartily hoped might be yet distant. As 
 to putting out the light, neither he nor any one within twenty 
 miles would venture on the Cader y Witch : of this he was 
 quite certain ; and before he reached the Tower his mind was 
 so mystified that he believed the figures he had seen were evil 
 spirits of some kind or another. Such was the superstition of 
 the tmie, He was more mystified still, when, reaching his own 
 door— which indeed, he would not have dared to call his own 
 — he found it shut. He knew that Betto was incapable of 
 rising to fasten it, so he set it down to the witches. It did not 
 much matter to him, as he had the keys in his pocket ; still his 
 terror of the supernatural increased, and he fumbled much as 
 he put the key in the lock and turned it. 
 
 The.kitchen door was open, and Betto sitting as usual oppo-
 
 234 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 site it. Years had increased her rheumatism, and she was 
 nearly helpless. 
 
 " Sure enough they have been here," thought Evan, as he 
 looked at her, for not only had her face a scared expression, 
 but she gesticulated strangely, pointing to the door of the other 
 room. 
 
 It will be remembered that the Earl had locked the door 
 of that apartment when he took his farewell survey of the 
 Tower. Evan turned towards it, and perceived that it was 
 ajar. He was frightened out of his few remaining wits, and 
 stood in the kitchen doorway, looking from Betto towards the 
 other room. 
 
 "Go in, go in," whispered Betto, so low that he could 
 scarcely hear her. 
 
 He moved towards the door, touched it, retreated, advanced 
 again, and finally half opened it, and peeped in. A cry of 
 terror was the result. Either the Earl was seated there in 
 person, or another witch had assumed his shape. Evan got 
 more and more mystified 
 
 "Come in," said a deep commanding voice. "Shut the 
 door. Is this how you take care of the charge committed 
 to you ? " 
 
 It was the Earl, and no imitative spirit; and Evan nearly 
 sank down in his astonishment and fear. 
 
 " Account for your absence and the open doors,'' said his 
 master. 
 
 " I ran to the Esgair, my lord," replied Evan, shaking in 
 every limb, his face more oblique than ever. " I have been 
 watching the fire ever since your lordship left, and I was seeing 
 the witches close by, and I forgot the door, my lord, and left it 
 ajar in my hurry, your lordship, and saw Dr. Caradoc Pennant 
 and his sister, or the fairies in their shape, my lord, right on 
 the side of the Esgair, your lordship " 
 
 " What ! " thundered the Earl. 
 
 " I am as sure as sure can be it was them, my lord ! " 
 
 "When? Where? Answer coolly, fool ! I shan't eat you.'
 
 eVan the tower. 235 
 
 " Just now, my lord ; climbing the Esgair like goats." 
 
 " Bring round my horse, and expect your dismissal ! " 
 
 Frightened Evan disappeared, and soon returned with the 
 horse. The Earl mounted, and trotted off briskly across the 
 downs in the direction of the Esgair, and, like Evan's witches, 
 away from his natural beat. 
 
 " Look out, for a storm is brewing ! " cried his lordship, as 
 a flash of summer lightning gleamed before his eyes, and the 
 rain pattered down. 
 
 " Come here a minute, and tell me all about it. I'm all of 
 a tremble," cried Betto, as Evan hobbled up the Tower steps. 
 " How did his lordship come ? " 
 
 " He knows best. On a broomstick," muttered Evan. 
 
 He certainly did know best, for he had arrived at the Castle 
 unexpectedly that morning, to the utter consternation of the 
 servants, who were variously enjoying their liberty at home and 
 abroad. His lordship liked to come down suddenly upon his 
 dependants at all times ; but this descent from London was 
 like a descent from the clouds. He had already surveyed his 
 Castle, and written for Mr. Tudor ; ascertained that Miss 
 Manent was at Brynhafod, and that the Pennants showed no 
 symptoms of departure ; heard that there had been few storms 
 and no wrecks ; and that it was rumoured that Mr. Tudor 
 was engaged to Miss Manent. 
 
 For a proud, reserved man, the Earl was very inquisitive, 
 and managed to learn all that passed around him, while having 
 the reputation of speaking to no one. At the Castle, the 
 servants, like Evan, were " expecting their dismissal."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 
 
 MIDWAY between the Tower and the Esgair the Earl 
 met Daisy. Caradoc was not with her, so, apparently, 
 Evan had seen double. At the spot where the encounter took 
 place, the down surmounting the rocks rose abruptly into the 
 mountain, and the pass was narrow and difficult. The cliffs, 
 on the one side, were sharp and steep ; the hill, on the other, 
 straight and stony. Two people, or even a horse and one 
 person, might pass each other, or a mountaineer might possibly 
 scramble up the mountain, yet the place was dangerous. The 
 Earl knew it, and dismounted. He rode a sure-footed Welsh 
 cob, that had paced the load by night and day, so, if he 
 feared, it was for Daisy, not for himself. The storm was still 
 threatening, the evening advancing, and Daisy was running 
 when the Earl met her suddenly. 
 
 " Pray do not dismount, my lord ; I can pass easily," she 
 said, surprised at his unexpected appearance. 
 
 But he did not heed her, and stood in front of her, holding 
 his horse's bridle. 
 
 " So you are the Witch of the Esgair ! " he said, grimly. 
 "How so, my lord?" she asked, looking him unflinchingly 
 in the face. 
 
 " Have you not just been there to kindle the accursed fire ? "' 
 " Blessed, not accursed, since it saves life, my lord." 
 "You own to lighting it. Then why this mystery?" 
 " I own to nothing, my lord. But if I could kindle the 
 beacon, would it not be a righteous work ? " 
 
 " It would show that you were in league with the Evil One, 
 
 236
 
 THE BRINK OF THE TRECIPICE. 2tf 
 
 as people already suspect. No woman could mount the Esgair 
 unaided by Satanic influence. The light is infernal ! " 
 
 "Then are the false lights heavenly, my lord? Are the 
 Jack-o'-lanterns, and the meteor that flits about the rocks 
 before a wreck, and the strange fires the wreckers kindle, 
 and all the lights that decoy ships to their destruction, are 
 they God's work ? " 
 
 The Earl looked savagely at Daisy, but she knew no fear. 
 
 " Who are you that dare thus to defy me ? " he asked. 
 
 "One whom it pleased the Lord to save, when an infant, 
 from a horrible shipwreck, and who would devote her life, if 
 she could, to save others," she replied, courageously. 
 
 His eyes fell, and he laid hold of his horse's mane. 
 
 " You shall be burnt for a witch. You have bewitched my 
 son," he said hoarsely, after a pause. 
 
 " Oh no, my lord ! You mistake. My Lord Penruddock 
 has sought to bewitch me, and failed." 
 
 " Failed, hypocrite ! You know that you have made him 
 promise to marry you, and expect him to return and keep his 
 promise." 
 
 As the Earl said these words he moved a step forwards, still 
 holding firmly by his well-trained horse, and seized Daisy's 
 arm. She knew the danger of the spot, and, although fearing 
 no intentional injury from the Earl, she uttered a slight cry, as 
 she exclaimed, — 
 
 " Take care : you or I may fall over ! We might be killed, 
 for the rock is steep. Pray let me pass, my lord. It is getting 
 dark, and I am still far from home." 
 
 " I have you in my power, girl. I can do with you what 
 I will," he replied, glancing fiercely at her as he grasped 
 her arm. 
 
 "You have no power over me, unless it be given you from 
 above," she returned, using, unconsciously, divine words. 
 
 Her voice did not falter, for she feared no evil, though her 
 cheek paled slightly, and she laid hold of a piece of projecting 
 mountain limestone with her disengaged hand. The Earl held
 
 238 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the arm which was nearest the sea. No one but the Omnis- 
 cient knew what was passing in his mind, but his eyes fell 
 before the fearless, untroubled, beautiful face of the young girl, 
 who was so close to him that he felt her breath on his cheek. 
 
 "Do you know that I can hurl you into the sea?" he muttered, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " Not if my Heavenly Father stay your hand, my lord. As 
 He rescued me from the sea once, so He can protect me now. 
 But I do not fear your lordship." 
 
 Again he glanced at the fair, grand face, and his grasp 
 slightly relaxed. 
 
 " Tell me what you have done with my son, and where he is 
 at this moment ; then swear never to see him more, and I will 
 release you," he said. 
 
 " I have not seen my Lord Penruddock since he left the 
 Castle. I do not know where he is. I believed him in Lon- 
 don. I cannot swear to see him no more, because he may 
 force himself upon me. But, indeed, my lord, I have no 
 desire, as you think, to marry your son." 
 
 " Then swear you never will." 
 
 " Never ! How can I tell, my lorcj ? I would do much to 
 secure the lease of Brynhafod to my foster-father, who will, we 
 fear, lose his reason if he leave it. Your lordship refuses to 
 renew it, but ■" 
 
 A sudden movement of the Earl stayed Daisy's words. He 
 seized both her arms, but she did not relax her hold of the 
 rock. Still the thought came to her that he was going to 
 throw her into the waves below. She uttered a prayer for help, 
 then a cry, and finally spoke again, as dauntlessly as before. 
 
 ".Remember that One sees us who is more powerful than 
 you, and He is the Father of the fatherless." 
 
 Perhaps the Earl had no murderous intentions; he might 
 only have wished to frighten Daisy into submission. Be that 
 as it may, he let go one arm as a flash of lightning darted 
 between them. Their eyes were blinded for the minute, and 
 he resumed his grasp of his horse.
 
 THE BRINK OF THE TRECIPICE. 239 
 
 "The storm will be terrific — may I pass on, my lord?" 
 asked Daisy, whose courage was gradually giving way. 
 
 "No — not until you swear," replied the Earl, whose reso- 
 lution returned with eyesight. 
 
 "Then I must force my way on the other side, and your 
 life will be in danger," she said, making a great effort to release 
 herself, and push between the mountain and the horse. 
 
 Again he seized her with a muttered curse, and what the 
 result would have been, had not the God in whom she trusted 
 sent help, He alone knew. Tut the help came. While the Earl 
 was endeavouring to obstruct her passage, and in so doing had 
 pushed her almost to the brink of the precipice, Caradoc 
 appeared In a moment Daisy was in his arms, the Earl 
 prostrate at his horse's feet. Had the animal moved, his 
 wicked master would have been over the rocks. Caradoc 
 placed the fainting Daisy in safety, beyond the dangerous part, 
 and returned to pick up the prostrate figure. 
 
 " Lord Craigavon ! " he exclaimed, as he grasped his collar, 
 and saw his face for the first time — " the Earl of Craigavon ! " 
 he repeated, in blank astonishment. 
 
 The Earl righted himself sullenly, and was about to mount 
 his horse, when Caradoc prevented him. 
 
 " My lord, I shall indite you for attempt to murder," he said. 
 
 "Say nothing, and I will renew the lease," returned the 
 Earl, cowed, for the first time, by a tenant's son. 
 
 " Crime cannot be so condoned, 1 ' cried Caradoc, indignantly. 
 
 " The girl obstructed my path, and defied me ; I but pushed 
 her aside," growled the Earl, recovering his natural manner. 
 
 " I saw a struggle of life and death, and you shall answer for 
 it, my lord," retorted Caradoc, resolutely. 
 
 " Let his lordship pass, Carad ; I think he meant no harm, 
 and I forgive him if he did," came in a low voice from Daisy, 
 on her knees at a little distance. 
 
 " Mount, if you will, my lord, and let Almighty God and 
 your own conscience judge you," said Caradoc, passing the 
 Earl, and hurrying towards Daisy, who was in mortal terror.
 
 240 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 The Earl's face was dark as the gathering storm, but he was 
 compelled to obey. With an imprecation, and the muttered 
 words, "They shall rue it!" he mounted, and rode off towards 
 the Esgair. 
 
 When he was gone, Daisy's strength gave way, and she fell 
 back, fainting, on the mountain turf. The rain was beginning 
 to fall heavily, and night was coming on ; so Caradoc took her 
 in his arms and carried her to a place of shelter and safety. 
 This was a hollow made by a landslip in the hill above the 
 cliff-path, where they had often sat together to survey the sea 
 and distant vessels. Several sheep were here before them, 
 sheltering from the storm , but they scampered off at their 
 approach. He laid her down on the dry earth and began to 
 chafe her hands, unfasten her cloak and hat, and wipe the rain- 
 drops from her white face. He was on his knees at her side, 
 gazing on that face which gleamed in obscurity like a snowdrift, 
 when consciousness, and with it terror, returned. She threw 
 her arms round him, with the whispered words, — 
 
 "The Earl! — save me from him, Carad ! Dear brother, 
 where are you ? " 
 
 " Here, my darling. You are safe ; he is gone," he replied. 
 
 " Where am I ? Is it my brother Carad ? " she said at last, 
 with a heavy sigh, still clinging to him. " Do not leave me." 
 
 "Never, my sister — my darling!" he returned, gently re- 
 placing her on the sod, though still supporting her. 
 
 She recovered in a few minutes, and became aware of the 
 situation, and conscious of what had passed. 
 
 " Twice saved, and by you, my brother ! " she said, looking 
 up into his face, as he knelt by her side, his arm still round 
 her, as if protecting her from evil. 
 
 " Thank God ! " he ejaculated reverently, brushing the dew 
 from his brow and a tear from his eye. 
 
 " How did you find me, Carad ? " she asked, her hand in 
 his. 
 
 " I went from Monad to light the beacon, found it already 
 prepared, and came on here. What was the Earl doing?"
 
 THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 24I 
 
 " I scarcely know. Oh ! he is wicked, Carad. He called 
 me Witch of the Esgair, and has found out that I kindle the 
 light ; said I had bewitched his son — I who know nothing of 
 sorcery — then wanted me to swear that I would see him no 
 more. I could not swear. I tried to pass him by, and the 
 horrible struggle ensued. I think I was on the edge of the 
 precipice when you saved me." 
 
 She shuddered; and Caradoc pressed her closer to him. 
 
 They were silent for a few moments. Why were they so 
 happy there, with the tempest without, darkness creeping with- 
 in ? Why did Caradoc wish they could be there alone together 
 for ever. He forgot that Michael and Daisy had been like 
 lovers ever since he had found them in the hay-field ; forgot 
 that he had himself jealously kept aloof from them ; forgot the 
 Earl, the lease, home, impending misfortune— everything but 
 Daisy, in that solitude ; for were they not alone together ? 
 And she ? 
 
 Very slowly, her beautiful face crimson, her heart, lately 
 silent, beating quickly, she withdrew from him, and arose. 
 The roof of their temporary shelter was so low that she could 
 not stand upright, hut, trembling still, she went to its front to 
 look out upon the storm. 
 
 " It is abating, Carad," she whispered softly, as he stood 
 beside her. " I can brave it now, with you. They will be un- 
 easy at home." 
 
 A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning seemed to gainsay 
 her words ; but Caradoc picked up her cloak and wrapped it 
 round her. They stood yet awhile, side by side, silently 
 watching, while the clouds dispersed and the rain abated. 
 
 " I wonder where the Earl is ?" said Daisy, shuddering. 
 
 Almost as she spoke a horse's hoofs were heard, and she 
 shrank back, whispering, " Here he is. Save me, Carad." 
 
 Again his protecting arms sheltered her. They saw the 
 figures of the Earl and his horse pass the hollow, but were not 
 themselves perceived. 
 
 " He carried a light. Where could he have procured it ? " 
 
 R
 
 242 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 said Daisy, glancing out of her hiding-place. " Look, 
 Carad ! " 
 
 Caradoc, who was thinking only of Daisy, looked. There 
 was certainly a glimmering light visible as the Earl cantered 
 swiftly on. 
 
 "He has been to the Esgair and kindled it!" exclaimed 
 Daisy. 
 
 " He would neither have had courage nor time," returned 
 Caradoc, smiling. " He thinks to follow us, but we will follow 
 him. Are you strong enough, dear Daisy ? The rain has 
 ceased." 
 
 She looked into his face, as if to say, " I have strength for 
 anything with you," and so they went out together into the 
 night, following on the footsteps of the grim Earl.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. . 
 IMTORTANT ! immediate! 
 
 THE servants at the Castle had been more alarmed by the 
 Earl's unexpected return in broad daylight than they 
 were by his prolonged absence at night. His lordship had 
 been in the habit, for years, of coming and going at unseemly 
 hours, and that frequently unknown to his domestics. His own 
 apartments, and even the stable particularly appropriated to 
 his horses, were so arranged that no one could have access to 
 them without his permission, and, as he kept the keys, they 
 were rarely invaded. Sometimes his groom had orders to wait 
 up for him, at others to g) to bad, for his lordship was not 
 above unsaddling his favourite horse himself when he returned 
 late. His whole establishment, including the Countess, were 
 so accastomed to his secretiveness that they had almost ceased 
 to speculate upon it. The general opinion, that he had some- 
 thing on his mind, was received as a thing of course, and 
 forgotten as things of course are. If a peasant, abroad by 
 mischance, met him in the middle of the night, or even far 
 into a stormy morning, alone, drenched, and silent, his com- 
 ment was that the Earl was a brave man, anyhow, since he 
 feared neither the dark nor the spirits that haunted it, and 
 cared no more for the tempest than the calm. 
 
 On the night of his encounter with Daisy, no one knew at 
 what hour he entered the Castle, for he let himself in at his 
 private postern, unsaddled his horse himself, went to a sitting 
 room in his tower, where a light was always burning, threw of 
 
 his drenched clothes, and wrapped himself in a warm Turkish 
 
 243
 
 244 THE TENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 dressing-gown, and, finally, opened the window, and looked 
 out upon the sea. The storm had passed off, and the night, 
 was still and dark. Nothing was visible but a faint gleam on 
 the ocean at a distance, which he knew to be the reflection of 
 the light on the Esgair. 
 
 " No wrecks to-night," he muttered, and went into an adjoin- 
 ing room, where wine and cold viands were always prepared for 
 him. 
 
 He sat down before them, and began to eat and drink. 
 Both apartments overlooked the sea — one on the side of Ogof 
 Cay, the other of Ton Bay. They were cheerless enough, 
 though furnished with carved chairs and innumerable chests, 
 gilt bedstead and yellow satin hangings. But these were tar- 
 nished and tattered. 
 
 The Earl was habitually abstemious, so he was not long at 
 his meal. When he had finished, he sat down in a large easy 
 chair, the covering of which was much worn, and meditated 
 on the events of the day. He had a habit of biting his nails, 
 and, when not so occupied, frequently muttered to himself. 
 He was, ot course, thinking of Daisy and Caradoc, and deter- 
 mining what course to take under the circumstances. 
 
 " If they tell, I can charge them with attacking me," lie 
 thought and partly said. "She impeded me ; he hurled me to 
 the ground. I have might. Marry Penruddock ! Death first ! 
 I will — I will — murder her !" 
 
 Scarcely had he framed that word before he started up and 
 paced the room, moving his arms as if beating the air. 
 
 " No, no not murder ! I nev x murdered. They were 
 
 all mine by right lawfully mine, I say ! The villains 
 
 robbed me, cheated me of my own. I have but circumvented 
 them. Why was the girl saved to destroy my peace, to thwart 
 me, deprive me of my own, and — take away my son. My 
 son ! First my goods, then my son. I dare not, cannot deny 
 
 him anything. She must be got rid of. No, no! not 
 
 murdered, not murdered ! I never murder ! " 
 
 His lordship paced from room to room restlessly, now light
 
 important! immediate!. 245 
 
 ing many candles that were in different apartments — now extin- 
 guishing them — anon glancing through the different windows 
 on the tranquil night and sea. 
 
 " She will give him up if I renew the lease, but I shall make 
 treble of the property," he mused, as the calm of nature soothed 
 him. " And I hate the Pennants. I should have been rid of 
 
 her, but for that vain serf, Caradoc. No, no not murder ! 
 
 Only a struggle for life ! " 
 
 He opened the window, and leaned out. Some moving 
 thing crossed the reflected light of the distant beacon on the 
 sea, and vanished. 
 
 "A ship !— saved again !" muttered the Earl. " I will ruin 
 them all. They would have killed me if they could. And the 
 girl ! And Penruddotk ! If we do not get rid of her, he will 
 have her in spite of me. But not murder— only my money, mv 
 rights, my wreckage !" 
 
 This soliloquy was interrupted by a knock at the door. 
 Imperative business alone could authorize so daring an act. 
 
 "Who's there?" cried the Earl, arrested in combating some 
 invisible agent. 
 
 " A letter, my lord. Brought post from Penruddock," 
 replied a voice without. 
 "Send Morris with it." 
 
 Before leaving London his lordship had written to order 
 Morris to return to the Castle, and that obedient woman was 
 there to meet him. Devoted as she was to the family interests, 
 she was yet not pleased at being roused from sleep to wait upon 
 his lordship ; still she rose, dressed as quickly as she could, and 
 crept, accompanied by the first messenger, up the Tower stairs. 
 The Earl partly unclosed the door at her timid knock, and with 
 the words, "Wait below till I ring," received the letter. 
 
 Actual business always steadied his nerves, and he seated 
 himself quietly at an old bureau. Having placed a candle at 
 his elbow, he examined the letter. 
 
 "'Important! Immediate!' and franked and directed by 
 Walpole," he said to himself. " The proposal in form at last.
 
 246 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 1 knew it would come if I left them together. But why does 
 the fussy old fool squander money by all this hurry ?" 
 
 His lordship broke a huge seal, impressed with the Walpole 
 coat-of-arms, and read the letter. He had much difficulty in 
 deciphering it, for it was written in a large scrawly hand, and in 
 haste. He went over it two or three times before he could 
 master the contents. As they became clear to him, his daik 
 face grew darker, his teeth and fist clenched. He had to fight 
 with reality now. 
 
 The letter contained the intelligence of Lady Mona's sudden 
 elopement with her cousin, Everard, and the consequent illness 
 of the Countess. It was written by Sir George Walpole. It 
 said that the morning after the Earl's departure from London, 
 her ladyship was missing, and that on due search and inquiry it 
 was discovered that she had taken the law into her own hands, 
 and was on her way to Gretna Green— at that time the goal of 
 desperate lovers. As the Earl was absent, there was no one in 
 London of authority sufficient to pursue them; and when Sir 
 George wrote, both he and the Countess were stunned by the 
 unexpected shock. Indeed, he wrote the evening of the elope- 
 ment, which accounted for the arrival of the letter so imme- 
 diately after the Earl, as well as for the haste of its diction. 
 Sir George was evidently distressed, and urged the Earl's 
 return, not only on account of this unexpected event, but 
 because the shock had been too much for Lady Craigavon, who 
 had been all the day in a fainting condition. 
 
 The Earl no longer walked the room, nor muttered, but sat 
 awhile, still, looking on the ground. Did he remember that 
 while meditating the destruction of Daisy, he had lost his own 
 daughter ? Possibly not ; yet so it was. Our sins generally 
 meet commensurate punishment. What he did remember was, 
 that he had lost, not only his child, but untold gold, and he had 
 almost exclaimed with Shylock, "My ducats— and— my 
 daughter!" He did exclaim, "A spendthrift for a nabob! 
 Two hundred a year for hundreds of lacs of rupees ! An 
 Everard for a Walpole ! She is no daughter of mine. I
 
 important! immediate! 247 
 
 renounce her. Henceforth I have only a son. But the money ! 
 — Sir George's money ! We shall not have that. I must make 
 it up ! More rents — more tithes — more wrecks ! I will put 
 out the light ! I will No not murder ! Not murder !" 
 
 His lordship rose, and rang his bell violently. It was 
 answered by Morris, who was admitted. She came simpering 
 in, but started back to the door when she saw his ghastly face. 
 
 "Shut it, and come forward,' he said. "Do you know of 
 this elopement ? " 
 
 " I have heard of no elopement, your lordship." 
 
 " Why did you let Lady Mona go to town without you ?" 
 
 " By her ladyship's wish, and your desire, my lord." 
 
 " Where is Miss Manent ? Why did she not go ? " 
 
 " Lady Mona dismissed her, my lord." 
 
 " Planned ! I believe you are all in the conspiracy. Where 
 is Miss Manent?" 
 
 '•' At Brynhafod, my lord. Lady Thomas didn't want her 
 after all — never wanted her, so her ladyship's maid says." 
 
 " What business has she at Brynhafod ? " 
 
 " They are saying she is to marry Mr. Tudor, my lord." 
 
 "They are saying lies ! You and she are cognisant of my 
 daughter's elopement. Don't deny it. You remained behind 
 to shield yourselves. I sent for you believing you faithful. 1 
 find you faithless. Go, I dismiss you !" 
 
 " Indeed, my lord, I am not knowing of her ladyship since 
 she left the Castle. I never heard of an elopement. Miss 
 Manent may, but I'm as innocent as a babe. I was wanting to 
 go to London all the while, and if I'd been there, I should have 
 been seeing after her ladyship." 
 
 The suspicious Earl believed none of Morris's asseverations. 
 He told her to wait while he wrote a note ; and, turning to his 
 bureau, wrote hastily to Mr. Tudor, ordering him to bring Miss 
 Manent to the Casde with him. 
 
 "Send this at daybreak," he said, as he sealed it. 
 
 " Is it Sir George Walpole, or Captain Everard, my lord?" 
 asked Morris, whose curiosity overcame her fear.
 
 248 THE PENNANT FAMILY, 
 
 " Hypocrite ! Who was in her secrets if you were not?" 
 " If I was put on my oath, my lord, I am knowing nothing 
 about it. But I am thinking there may be one as does. Her 
 ladyship was confiding more in that Daisy Pennant of Brynhafod 
 than in any one else. And they were a long time together 
 before the journey to town." 
 
 " Ha ! Lady Mona wished the giil to go with her !" 
 " To be sure her ladyship did, my lord, as I remember too 
 well ; for she was to have taken my place, only Mr. Pennant was 
 too proud to let her. There's proud them farmers are growing, 
 my lord ! " 
 
 " We will crush out their pride. Find out if that waif— that 
 foundling — knew of this disgraceful affair. She should never 
 have associated with my daughter." 
 
 "So I was always saying; but my word was dross, hers 
 gold." 
 
 " Gold ! gold ! We have exchanged gold for dross, woman !" 
 "Then it is the Captain, my lord. I was thinking so. 
 Indeed, and I am symperthising with your lordship." 
 
 " Who are you who dare to sympathise with me ? Go ! No, 
 stay. What do you know of that girl at Brynhafod ? " 
 
 "She's a vain minx, my lord, and tries to draw all the men 
 after her." 
 
 " Watch her : see what men she draws, and let me know." 
 "Then I am not needing to go immediate, my lord?" 
 " Not if I may rely upon you." 
 
 "If your lordship would be raising my salary, and just paying 
 me up, you should find me a deal more trustworthy than many 
 a sickerfant your lordship believes in." 
 
 " I'll think about it ; at present I have more serious business. 
 See that the letter is sent, and find out what you can of the 
 proceedings at Brynhafod, particularly the daughter's— the 
 
 foundling's— the— the Do you know where Lord Penrud- 
 
 dock is? Has he been at the Castle since we left?" 
 
 "Not to my knowledge, my lord; and I've been hearing 
 constant from Mrs. Davies, as keeps no secrets for me. I am
 
 IMPORTANT ! IMMEDIATE ! 249 
 
 thinking I can find out if your lordship will be pleased to 
 raise " 
 
 "Enough ! I will think of it. You will remain here while I 
 return to town. Let me know all that passes. I shall be ba( k 
 soon — soon. Let every one understand this ; and if Lord 
 Penruddock appear, write at once. You may go." 
 
 Morris obeyed ; and the Earl was left to his solitary medita- 
 tions.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 AN ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 CAR A DOC and Daisy walked through the storm as quickly 
 as it would let them. The encounter of the Earl had 
 taken away a portion of her strength and spirits, buUCaradoc's 
 presence restored them. Leaning on his arm, and protected 
 by him, she felt that she could defy both earls and elements. 
 They only spoke at intervals, though they seemed nearer and 
 dearer to one another than ever. They hurried on, breasting 
 the wind and rain, and thinking how near a final separation had 
 so lately been. 
 
 " How merciful the Lord is ! But for Him and you, Caradoc, 
 the Earl or I must have been over the rocks," she said, at last. 
 
 " The cowardly villain ! " he muttered. " But let us keep 
 his secret, for the present, at least. It would add to their 
 trouble at home to tell them what has happened. You are sure 
 you are quite well, Daisy ? " 
 
 " Quite sure." 
 
 A slight pressure of his arm and a glance from her brave eyes 
 sufficed. They were silent again. 
 
 " There is the corpse-candle ! " suddenly whispered Daisy, 
 pointing across the cliffs towards the Castle. 
 
 " Then the Earl must see it as he rides. I hope it will 
 frighten him into believing it appears for him," returned 
 Caradoc, as he saw the ominous meteor at a distance. 
 
 " I wish I could be rid of my silly superstition," she added. 
 " I always shudder when I see it." 
 
 "But you do not believe in it? The lightning is quite as 
 supernatural," he said. 
 
 23«
 
 AN ENGAGEMENT. . 25 I 
 
 '' No ; faith and sense forbid me. But I dislike it. See how 
 it flits and wanders along !" she replied. 
 
 " We thought the Earl carried a light ; perhaps that is it," 
 suggested he, pausing, and gazing after the ignis fatuus. 
 
 " Impossible. It appears and disappears like the jack-o'- 
 Janthorn the peasants and Marget and even mother dread to 
 see," she murmured, instinctively clinging to Caradoc. 
 
 They were silent again, and hastened on. 
 
 Before they reached Aran Tower the storm had cleared oft. 
 They met Evan, who was prowling about, and who asked them 
 if they had seen some cue on horseback. 
 
 " Yes— the Earl," replied Caradoc boldly. 
 
 " Where ? " asked Evan. " I must have missed his lordship." 
 
 " At die Bwlch Du. The Black Pass." 
 
 " What if his lordship has tumbled over, Mr. Carad ? " but 
 Caradoc r.nd Daisy had passed on, while Evan limped, in 
 terrified haste, towards the pass. 
 
 The Aber ran below Aran Tower, and our wayfarers climbed 
 down the intervening steep defile, and took the path by its side 
 which led to the vicarage. Here they were met by the bailiff 
 who inhabited it, and who asked them much the same question 
 as Evan, and received a similar answer. He also went in 
 search of his master, while they hastened home by the hill- 
 path. 
 
 "There it is again ! " said Daisy, when they gained the open 
 at the summit. "If there are ships in the offing, it will be a 
 fight for victory between the eanwyll coiff and the camvyll 
 Esgair. God defend the right !" 
 
 The meteor was flitting on the path below. 
 
 When they neared the farm they were met by Michael. 
 
 " Here you are ! — I am so thankful ! " he exclaimed. " They 
 all said you were together, and probably sheltering at Monad ; 
 but Daisy is so venturesome that I could not rest. How is 
 Davy Jones? — and what of his soul?" 
 
 " What of your body, Michael, out at this hour, and after the 
 storm ? " asked Caradoc. " You will undo all the good done.
 
 252 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Davy Jones is more likely to pull through than you, if you run 
 such risks." 
 
 " I think he really listened while he swallowed the broth," 
 said Daisy — " and he asked particularly after you." 
 
 "That is at least something gained," returned Michael. 
 " The Earl has come back ; Mr. Tudor brought the news this 
 evening, and asked for a bed, being summoned to the Castle 
 early to-morrow. His brother Owen has been off ever since 
 the Earl left, and we are afraid he may lose the stewardship." 
 - " Not as long as the Vicar does the work for next to nothing," 
 rejoined Caradoc. " The master is ri^ht — Owen will never be 
 good for anything ; his mother has ruined him." 
 
 " I hope Mr. Tudor will make the Earl repair the vicarage. 
 How glad Miss Manent will be that he stays till to-morrow ! 
 But where can mother put him?" said Daisy. 
 
 " In the master's room, who is off, no one knows where. I 
 left him and Miss Manent together in the parlour, and father 
 has given orders that they are not to be disturbed. He 
 manoeuvred them into it, telling Mr. Tudor it was his last 
 chance, since Miss Manent goes on Thursday." 
 
 " Then father is still equal to a joke. He will not go out of 
 his mind," laughed Carad ; and Daisy joined. 
 
 The trio finally reached Brynhafod, and were greeted by 
 many expostulations, especially from Marget. 
 
 "Past ten at night, and wet through! — and all for those 
 rogues at Monad ! Bibles and broth, preaching and possets, 
 medicine, too, gratis, I'll be bound— and all for them Godless 
 cut-throats ! We shall have no more o' this, at least, when we 
 lose sight o' the sea." 
 
 " But, Marget, if only we can save one ! " whispered 
 Michael. 
 
 " Save 'em, indeed ! Go to bed, and save yourself," retorted 
 Marget, surveying Daisy's dripping cloak. 
 
 They found old Mr. Pennant reading the Bible, their father 
 engaged in the unusual task of poring over some old papers, 
 and their mother dozing, as was her custom, over her knitting.
 
 AN ENGAGEMENT. 253 
 
 David Pennant had been fast falling into the lethargy of despair, 
 when Ap Adam persuaded him to examine the said antiquated 
 papers, while he went to the neighbouring town to make some 
 private inquiries. 
 
 (i I say, Carad, it is my belief that the lease doesn't expire 
 till next March, and we'll have a fight for it," began the farmer, 
 oblivious of the late storm and his children's exposure to it. 
 
 " Of course we will, father," said Caradoc, cheerfully, who, 
 fe?;ing for his father's reason, took the course of humouring him. 
 
 His grandfather, a man of peace, glanced reproachfully at 
 him ; so did Michael. Mrs. Pennant was roused by her hus- 
 band's voice, and opened her round, placid eyes. 
 
 " Father has shut them into the parlour, Daisy," she said, 
 with a significant smile. " Emily put her best gown on, and 
 looks such a pretty young lady. I wish they would come out, 
 for it is time for bed." 
 
 As it seemed probable they never would come out, old Mr 
 Pennant suggested they should be summoned. When they 
 made their appearance, Miss Manent's flushed face and fluttered 
 manner told their own tale. Mr. Pennant's kindly ruse had 
 succeeded, and they were engaged at last. 
 
 " 1 will go to bed. Come with me, Daisy," whispered Mis? 
 Manent. 
 
 They went up to Miss Manent's room— the state apartmen. 
 —and that lady suddenly threw her arms round Daisy, and 
 hid her face in her shoulder. She tried to speak, and failed. 
 The realization of happiness was too full for words. 
 
 " I know, dear Miss Manent, and I am so glad," whispered 
 Daisy, pressing her lips on her friend's fair hair, and holding 
 her protectingly. " We shall never los v e you." 
 
 The young girl was really stronger, in her fearless nature, 
 than the timid woman. 
 
 " You have all been such friends to me. But for this house 
 it would never have been. And I am so unworthy," ventured 
 Miss Manent at last, sitting down. 
 
 She considered Mr. Tudor as second only to the Earl.
 
 254 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " You must let me be bridesmaid, even if we are far, far 
 away," said Daisy, kneeling at her side. 
 
 " Oh ! it may not be for years, dear, because we must not 
 offend the Earl," replied Miss Manent, softly. 
 
 " What is right, is right — what is wrong, is wrong. You are 
 engaged, it is right to marry," returned Daisy. 
 
 " Mr. Tudor will know best," said meek Miss Manent. " I 
 wonder what the Countess and Lady Mona will say." 
 
 " Poor Lady Mona ! " sighed Daisy. 
 
 The Vicar's courage was soon put to the test. While he was 
 at the early farm-breakfast the following morning, seated by the 
 side of the fair, blushing, timid Emily, the Earl's note arrived. 
 Its bearer had heard that he was at Brynhafod, and had brought 
 it there instead of taking it to his distant home. The order to 
 -bring Miss Manent with him annoyed the whole party. Mr. 
 Pennant said she should not go, but Miss Manent declared 
 that she could not disobey the Earl, and was rewarded by an 
 approving glance from Mr. Tudor. Caradoc and Daisy also 
 looked at one another. The note must have been written 
 after their struggle with the Earl, and they feared it had, in 
 some way unknown to them, occasioned this summons. 
 
 " No man has a right to control another's actions," cried 
 David Pennant, excitedly. " Miss Manent is free, and his 
 lordship has no power over her. She is not beholden to him, 
 and never was. I would see him at the bottom of the sea 
 before I obeyed him. I say that I am her protector now, and 
 she shall not go ! " 
 
 Old Mr. Pennant rose and put his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "My son, no harm will happen to the young lady in company 
 with him she has chosen," he said. 
 
 " No good ever happened to any one in the Earl's company," 
 retorted David, so fiercely that his family quailed. 
 
 " Right, father," muttered Caradoc. 
 
 " My boy, remember God and your children," said the old 
 man. " He bears with evil for His children's sake ; bear with 
 it, also, for yours."
 
 AN ENGAGEMENT. 255 
 
 " I will, father ; I will," groaned David, covering his face. 
 
 And Miss Manent slipped away to prepare to accompany 
 Mr. Tudor to the Castle. 
 
 They found the Earl ready to receive them. He was in his 
 business-room, surrounded by papers, and looking more moody 
 than usual. He greeted them distantly, and bade them be 
 seated, not rising himself. Without looking at them, he asked 
 at once concerning his children. 
 
 "Where is Penruddock, Mr. Tudor, and what is the 
 meaning of this elopement, Miss Manent ? " 
 
 " I thought he was with your lordship ; " and " What elope- 
 ment ? " were the instant replies. 
 
 " You have had the care of my children, and I expect you 
 to account for them. Why did you not bring them up better 
 than to allow the one to absent himself, the other to run away 
 and marry contrary to my orders?" 
 
 Of course both tutor and governess protested, but the Earl 
 relieved his own mind by casting blame on them. He was, 
 however, quite aware that he had overreached himself, and 
 that Lady Mona had circumvented him by his own weapons. 
 His own absence, and that of Miss Manent and Morris, had 
 rendered her flight easy. But he did not choose to let this 
 appear. 
 
 " In addition to conniving at my son's disappearance, and 
 abetting my daughter's elopement, I hear that you are both 
 countenancing my tenants in resisting my will : I who have 
 been your sole support ! " 
 
 His lordship paused and glanced up a moment, and per- 
 ceived an unusual decision in the Vicar's eye. 
 
 " Miss Manent has been a guest at Brynhafod, while seeking 
 another home, my lord," replied that gentleman, firmly. 
 " Lady Mona made a mistake, or, perhaps, purposely chose 
 to leave her behind. She is about to undertake another situ- 
 ation, until your lordship is pleased to restore the vicarage, 
 whither I hope to take her as my wife." 
 
 "And, indeed, my lord, I know nothing of Lady Mona's
 
 256 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 marriage. I only hope she may be happy," broke in Miss 
 Manent. 
 
 " Marriage ! Happy ! What next? She is ruined — penni- 
 less — and has lost hundreds of thousands ! " cried the stern 
 father. " I do not approve of marriage, and shall not restore 
 the vicarage. Tell Farmer Pennant that if he has not left 
 Brynhafod before the 29th of September, I will eject him. 
 Tell your brother that since he chooses to neglect his work, 
 and absent himself while I am away, I dismiss him from the 
 stewardship; and tell the people generally that, although I 
 return- to town for awhile, I shall be back soon. Lady 
 Craigavon is indisposed, and I go to her ladyship. Good- 
 day." 
 
 "Good morning, my lord. Am I to consider that my 
 brother is no longer steward ? " asked Mr. Tudor. 
 
 "You can keep it till I return. If you hear from Pen- 
 ruddock, let me know. Is Dr. Pennant engaged to the girl 
 who lives with them?" 
 
 " Not that I am aware of, my lord." 
 
 And so the interview ended, the Earl having gained nothing 
 thereby, and Mr. Tudor fearing that he had lost much. Still, 
 as he and Miss Manent returned to the farm, arm-in-arm, they 
 resolved to strive to do their duty hencefonh, as in God's 
 sight, and without fear of man.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE EARL'S "DAY OF GRACE." 
 
 THE Earl was giving his final orders to Morris, and 
 locking up the Castle, preparatory to leaving in the 
 afternoon, when he was told that Mr. Ap Adam wished to see 
 him on particular business. His lordship admitted him, with 
 a surly " What does he want ? " His mind instantly recurred 
 to the scene of the previous evening, and he imagined him to 
 be an ambassador from Caradoc. 
 
 " I will say the girl obstructed my path in order to kill me 
 and secure my son," he muttered, as Ap Adam was shown in. 
 
 The master apologised for his intrusion, but added that he 
 was anxious to see his lordship before he left. 
 
 " Your business, sir — my time is precious," said the Earl. 
 
 " I have been examining the Brynhafod leases, my lord, 
 renewed and renewed ever since your lordship's family super- 
 seded the Pennants in the possession of this property, and I 
 think it is pretty clear that Mr. Pennant has been over-hasty 
 in concluding that the last lease has fallen in. It was drawn 
 up, carelessly enough, at Christmas, and was to be for ninety- 
 nine years from September. New it does not specify whether 
 the ninety-nine years are to end this September or next ; so it 
 appears to me that your lordship cannot claim the farm till 
 next year. This will give Farmer Pennant time to look about 
 him, and collect his ideas." 
 
 "Are you a lawyer, sir?" asked the Earl, relieved from one 
 fear, while enraged by resistance to his will. " I thought you 
 a doctor, or rather half doctor, half schoolmaster."
 
 258 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " I have dabbled a little in most things, my lord, and par- 
 ticularly in law. Your lordship will find I am right." 
 
 " Right or wrong, Farmer Pennant leaves Brynhafod in 
 September. The farm is mine, not his.'' 
 
 '•' It should be his, my lord, if old documents tell true. 
 They show that when the Norman king gave your ancestors 
 the property, wresting it from its lawful owners, he or they had 
 conscience enough to leave them for their own the farm of 
 Brynhafod, whither they retreated. How it got into the 
 possession of the Earls of Craigavon is not known. But they 
 have hitherto had the grace to let the Pennants live in it as 
 tenants, and it is to be hoped your lordship will reconsider 
 your determination, and follow their example." 
 
 " My lordslr'p will do no such thing. Who are you who 
 venture to give me advice unasked ? " 
 
 " I am less than nobody ; but I have, perhaps, the advan- 
 tage of your lordship, in having devoted my life to the study 
 of antiquities. A ruin, a stone, a parchment, if only a 
 thousand years old, have sufficed to make me happy, and in 
 my researches in this neighbourhood I have stumbled upon 
 many queer things that have interested me much, and none 
 more than the history of the Pennants and Penruddocks. I 
 find that your lordship's family were originally Mortdevilles, 
 but assumed the name of Penruddock with the Craigavon 
 property; ' Pen,' or ' Head,' being equally the affix of the old 
 and new families." 
 
 * ; May I inquire if you came here to give me information 
 concerning my ancestors ? If so, I decline to listen. Or did 
 you come on behalf of Farmer Pennant, at his request ? " 
 
 " By no means, my lord. I came direct from Lawyer Lewis, 
 of Penruddock, to inform you that he, as well as I, believes 
 that the lease does not expire for another twelvemonth." 
 
 " I shall put it into my lawyer's hands ; but Pennant, 
 Brynhafod, and his brood shall leave all the same. What is 
 your interest in them, may I ask ? " 
 
 "They have given me food and shelter for some ten or
 
 the earl's "day of grace." 259 
 
 twelve years, and therewith the chance of pursuing my fancies. 
 I have made some strange discoveries concerning the origin of 
 the system of wrecking, and have been thinking of asking your 
 lordship to patronize a book I have been writing on that and 
 other topics connected with this neighbourhood. May I seize 
 the present opportunity ? " 
 
 Ap Adam's eyes had a strange twinkle as they looked at the 
 Earl. His lordship's fell beneath them, but he replied, sternly 
 enough, " Lady Craigavon is in London, and indisposed, sir. 
 I am recalled to town, and have no time for nonsensical specu- 
 lations, or, indeed, for conversation with one who is reputed a 
 quack and necromancer. I have given orders to my steward 
 concerning Brynhafod. I refer you to him." 
 
 " Your lordship must take the consequences if you persist in 
 what is contrary to law. I have come to warn you on my own 
 responsibility, and shall advise Mr. Pennant not to forget that 
 ' possession is nine points of the law.' " 
 
 " The Earl of Craigavon is powerful enough to defy law on 
 so unimportant a matter. Good morning !" 
 
 " Perhaps you will think of my projected book, my lord. It 
 may aid you in suppressing this accursed traffic in the property 
 of drowned men and women. I am very strong upon it, 1 
 assure you, and hope to do good." 
 
 " I have enough to do without reading useless trash, and you 
 had better earn your living more honestly than by writing it. 
 That will never bring you a guinea." 
 
 The Earl was beginning to show his teeth like a surly bull- 
 dog, and Ap Adam snapped on, terrier-wise, accordingly. 
 
 " Use or uselessness will be proved on publication, my lord. 
 1 hope to stir up a lazy government to put down wrecking. I 
 have the ear of a statesman or two." 
 
 "You! Quack-doctor! Wizard! Pedagogue! Pauper! The 
 ear of a statesman ! What next ? " 
 
 "The deluge, and what was found when the waters subsided. 
 There will be a fine crop at the bottom of these bays. Good 
 morning, my lord. Reconsider the lease."
 
 260 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 With another twinkling glance at the furious Earl, Ap Adam 
 hastened away, knowing that he had caused a panic that would 
 not easily be allayed. 
 
 He followed Mr. Tudor and Miss Manent, and found them 
 at Brynhafod, discussing their interview with the Earl with the 
 family assembled for their noonday dinner. He swallowed a 
 hasty meal without joining in the conversation, but when the 
 dinner was over, and they were secure often minutes' quiet, he 
 took part in it, or, rather, usurped it, by recounting as much as 
 he chose of what had passed between him and his lordship. 
 He wound up with, " Now, my friends, be assured you need 
 not stir a foot from here. 1 have the miser in my clutches, and 
 he knows it. Be firm for the next two months, and you are 
 safe for another year, and then something else will turn up. He 
 won't dare to go to law." 
 
 David Pennant struck his fist upon the table with a " Bravo, 
 Master ! We'll stick like leeches ! " 
 
 Then old Mr. Pennant spoke for the first time. He had 
 been listening attentively to all that had passed, and to the 
 different opinions of the family, which changed, as opinions 
 will, in cases of difficulty, with the last speaker. 
 
 "I take it that we are a Christian family," he began. "We 
 read, believe, and try to follow the precepts of our Lord, as 
 taught in His Holy Word. Then we must neither 'resist evil/ 
 nor ' do evil, that good may come.' This farm is the Earl of 
 Craigavon's ; let him do with his own what beseemeth him. 
 He wishes to be rid of us, let us not force ourselves upon him. 
 It is clear that the lease expires either this year or next. I am 
 its holder, and head of this family — we will go. Listen, son 
 and grandsons. If we remain, we shall ruin, perhaps, the 
 widow and orphan ; if we depart, the Earl will leave Mrs. Tudor 
 and Owen where they are, and, maybe, repair the vicarage and 
 let our young friends marry. A year, more or less, is not a 
 lifetime. The master is far-seeing, but God sees farther still, 
 and can order our goings out and comings in at pleasure. He 
 knows why the Earl's mind is set against us, and can overrule it
 
 THE EARL'S "DAY OF GRACE." 25 1 
 
 if so He will. Let us 'overcome evil with good,' and give up 
 the place quietly, leaving it at its best for the next tenant, or 
 for his lordship, if he takes to it. We have done well by the 
 farm, and lived well by it. Perhaps we have loved it too much, 
 and set our hearts on an earthly rather than a heavenly home. 
 Our Father is teaching us better. What if the property did 
 once belong to our forefathers? So did the Holy Land to the 
 Jews, but He deprived the rebellious people of their inherit- 
 ance. Are we not rebellious now ? Are we not murmuring 
 because we are to leave these our fleshpots for the wilderness, 
 which may prove to some of us the Promised Land after all ? 
 My children, let me see you submissive before I die." 
 
 As the old man spoke, the countenances of his hearers 
 changed, one by one. Even David Pennant's softened, and his 
 eyes became moist. Mrs. Pennant and Daisy were wiping 
 away their tears, and all were sensibly affected. The master 
 was silent, if not convinced. The old man glanced round the 
 table, while Daisy's hand stole into his. Seeing the effect of 
 his words, he continued — 
 
 "I have known the Earl since he was a boy; I knew his 
 father before him. I will see his lordship before he departs, 
 and try to soften him as the Lord has softened thee, my son. 
 He is in trouble greater than ours. Come with me, Michael." 
 
 He rose, no one venturing to gainsay him, and, accompanied 
 by his youngest grandson, slowly left the house. 
 
 The Earl was at his sternest and moodiest when they were 
 ushered into his study. 
 
 " Who next ! " was his exclamation j but he did not choose 
 to be denied, not knowing their exact business — which Mr. 
 Pennant at once made clear. 
 
 <! I am not going to detain you, my lord," he began, in the 
 forcible language of his country ; " you have been already 
 hindered, and I hear Lady Craigavon is ill, and you are in 
 trouble. I come to assure your lordship that we shall quit 
 Brynhafod according to your wish, and place no impediment of 
 law or ill-feeling in your way. I should like to have ended my
 
 262 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 days where they began, had it pleased God, for I have never 
 been more than twenty miles away during my fourscore and ten 
 years, and it will be hard to quit our pleasant places ; but, since 
 you have other views for the farm, my lord, I hope it may be 
 as prosperous in other hands as it has been in ours. The Lord 
 of lords has seen fit to bless our seed-time and harvest — may 
 He continue to bless them to those who succeed us ! " 
 
 The Earl looked up from the desk at which he sat, and saw 
 a venerable head bowed before him. He had expected recri- 
 mination, and perhaps threats ; and had resolved on resistance 
 at all costs. He was met by a submission that he neither 
 appreciated nor understood, but attributed to fear of his superior 
 rank and power. Yet scarcely fear, he thought, since the 
 Pennants were proverbially independent. But he failed, alas ! 
 to see that the Sovereign Ruler of the universe was holding out 
 to him the means of tardy reparation, and perhaps opening a 
 road for repentance from sins known only to himself and that 
 omniscient Being. 
 
 " Sit down, Pennant. I am glad you have come to your 
 senses," was all he said. 
 
 " Thank you, my lord, my grandson and I are going. But 
 we, as Christians, wished to assure you that we bear you no ill- 
 will. Michael would have farmed the estate, God willing, after 
 his father, since Carad has chosen to be a doctor ; now we must 
 seek another home. I am an old man, and shall soon find 
 mine ; his will doubtless be provided." 
 
 Michael stood close to his grandfather, his pale face calm and 
 gentle. The Earl glanced from one to the other. 
 
 "Will you marry the young girl your father has adopted? If 
 so, we may yet come to terms," he said, abruptly. 
 
 " I think not, my lord," replied Michael, quietly. 
 
 His grandfather looked at him keenly, and said, 
 
 " It is the desire of our hearts, and we have trusted to see 
 him and Daisy in our places, my lord." 
 
 " But the girl — is it her wish also ? If she has higher views, 
 she had best be forced out of them."
 
 THE EARL'S ''DAY OF GRACE." 263 
 
 " The hearts of young women are too intricate for probing, 
 my lord ; but I think our Eye of Day is humble, and does not 
 look above her station." 
 
 " Then why have you educated her above it ? Why did you 
 let her come here?" 
 
 "Your lordship knows it was by my Lady Mona's wish." 
 
 That name silenced the Earl, and his dark look, banished for 
 a moment, returned. 
 
 "Yes; low company has been my daughter's ruin. Away 
 with your Esgair Witch, and take care that she never sees Lord 
 Fenruddock again. She nearly caused my death last night. 
 It was an ill day for Craigavon when you rescued her. I have 
 lost a hundred thousand pounds." 
 
 "What does your lordship mean ?" asked the two men. 
 
 "What I say. See to it, ai d get rid of her, if you value your 
 peace. She, and your other foundling, that Ap Adam, are in 
 league with the Evil One." 
 
 " May God forgive your wicked words, and put better 
 thoughts into your heart ! " exclaimed Mr. Pennant, uplifting 
 his eyes and hands. "And may it please Him not to visit on 
 your own head, and in your own offspring, the hard things you 
 have said of the shipwrecked orphan. Look to yourself, Lord 
 Craigavon, and know that there is One to whom all hearts are 
 open. May He pity and forgive you, as I do." 
 
 " You are a set of canting hypocrites ! " returned the Earl, 
 darkly " When you are gone there will be no more preaching 
 at Monad, rousing up my people against me, and making the 
 Vicar a useless log. No more Witches on the Esgair ; no more 
 ' old men of the mountain.' I am thankful to say the farm you 
 were after is let, and there isn't another within twenty miles." 
 
 " Oh, my lord ! why do you wish us ill ? We have done you 
 no harm," said Michael, involuntarily. 
 
 His sweet, pleasant voice arrested the Earl. Indeed there 
 was an earnestness and simplicity in Michael which few could 
 withstand. 
 
 " Go back to your plough and harp, young man," said his
 
 264 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 lordship, suddenly thinking of Penruddock. " When we want 
 you to preach or play to us, we* will send for you." 
 
 " And, indeed, my lord, I will thankfully come," returned 
 Michael, following his grandfather, who had turned slowly to 
 the door. 
 
 As they passed out with a bow and a " Good afternoon, my 
 lord," the Earl took a purse from his pocket and began slowly 
 to count his guineas. Has his " Day of Grace" departed with 
 them ?
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE COUNTESS IS DEAD 
 
 MISS MANENT left Brynhafod for her new situation 
 with many thanks and many tears. Owing to Farmer 
 Pennant, her engagement to Mr. Tudor was ratified and an- 
 nounced, and although his mother disapproved of it as much 
 as the Earl did, she did not venture to make her disapproval 
 apparent to her son, who was the mainstay of her family. 
 When, therefore, the Vicar and his betrothed drove off in the 
 Brynhafod gig the morning after their interview with the Earl, 
 it was understood that they were to be married as soon as 
 circumstances permitted. But alas ! for these " circum- 
 stances," which too often weary out more ardent attachments 
 than theirs. The orphaned and friendless governess was, how- 
 ever, happy in her distant prospect, and in the fact that she 
 was to be with friends of Mr. Tudor's, albeit she carried with 
 her a dread of the Earl and his possible power to set aside the 
 engagement. Both she and Daisy also felt much anxiety 
 about Lady Mona, not quite unembittered with self-reproach, 
 each fearing, in the sensitiveness of conscience, that she had 
 not done her duty by her. Daisy in particular, while she 
 rejoiced in Lady Mona's escape from the thraldom of the 
 Castle, wondered if she had been right to promise secrecy. 
 
 She confided her doubts to Michael, in whose brotherly love 
 she now wholly trusted. Indeed she believed that his feelings 
 for her were, and always had been, simply fraternal. He then 
 admitted to her that he was also troubled in mind on the same 
 subject, having overheard the conversation between Lady 
 Mona and her cousin on the night of the ball; and they both
 
 266 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 came to the conclusion that secrets were dangerous burdens, 
 and hard to throw off, as that of Christian. Daisy longed to 
 tell him of her secret concerning the beacon, but forbore until 
 Caradoc should deem it fitting. 
 
 Had she known the distress this secret was causing him and 
 their grandfather, she would have urged its disclosure on 
 Caradoc. The Earl's words, "Away with your Esgair Witch, 
 and take care she never sees Lord Penruddock again — she 
 nearly caused my death last night," haunted them sadly, and 
 they talked them over and over, not knowing what they meant, 
 and dreading to add to the general ill-feeling by repeating 
 them. They prayed together, and alone, to be guided in what 
 they should do and say in the great emergency in which they 
 were cast, not only as regarded Daisy, but David Pennant, 
 whose mind was still overturned by this sudden trouble. 
 
 Indeed, when David Pennant heard that his father had 
 actually settled to give up the farm, he said with his resolute 
 manner, "Then let those who yield, strain; I won't budge 
 in the matter. Those who give up this farm must find 
 another ; and there isn't much time to lose. Michaelmas will 
 soon be here, and we shall have no roof to cover us." 
 
 What the Earl had said concerning Sir Shenkin Thomas's 
 farm was right — it was let to another tenant. Caradoc, there- 
 fore, undertook to scour the country in search of a fitting 
 home, and Daisy, who was a fearless and untiring rider, re- 
 solved to aid him. Meanwhile Ap Adam continued his 
 seemingly fruitless search for the origin of all things — from the 
 Dolomites to false lights ; and from pre-Adamite formations 
 to pre-Norman pedigrees — and was rarely at the farm. 
 
 The dull calm that precedes the storm fell over Brynhafod. 
 Master and men went to work stolidly, and but for the old 
 farmer and Michael, the harvest would have been neglected, 
 the garden untended, the root-crops left to rot. Mrs. 
 Pennant's mercury also fell with her husband's, and her 
 recovered energy, small though it was at best, sank to zero. 
 But for Daisy and Marget, matters would have been as bad
 
 THE COUNTESS IS DEAD. 267 
 
 within doors as without. The foster-daughter and the old 
 servant did the work between them, while the mistress rocked 
 herself in the corner, or tried to condole with her husband, 
 and, by so doing, only made him tenfold more irritable and 
 obstinate. 
 
 It was now that Caradoc came to the front. As eldest and 
 strongest, he undertook a difficult post, and filled it to the 
 best of his ability. Although his sympathies were with his 
 father, whom he most resembled both in person and disposi- 
 tion, his common sense went with his grandfather. He there- 
 fore urged exertion on all and worked for all. He and Daisy, 
 in their superior health and strength, were more capable of un- 
 usual effort than the others, and while he gave the orders and 
 went hither and thither professionally, or in search of a new 
 home, she saw that they were carried out. They were thrown 
 together on all sorts of business consultations, and while he 
 felt and knew the danger to himself, he yet braved it, loving 
 her more and more the while. He remembered but too well 
 that she had refused to promise Lord Craigavon to give up his 
 son, and he saw that she and Michael were more affectionate 
 and confidential — more like lovers, he thought — than ever. 
 This angered him, for he was jealous for Michael, trampling 
 down personal feeling with the strong heel of unselfishness. 
 Indeed, he inclined to think that Daisy's love was in Lord 
 Penruddock's keeping, and, while sorrowing for Michael, tried 
 to forget himself. But he had not much time to think of love ; 
 he had been taught to make passion secondary to principle, and 
 both he and Daisy had really too much actual work to do to 
 waste overmuch thought on this, the deepest, subtlest, and 
 least-controlled feeling of the human heart. Yet, in the 
 midst of labour and trouble for others, they were sometimes 
 reserved, shy, and even angered one with the other; sometimes 
 open and happy together as when they were children. 
 
 " The master promises to see to the beacon when we are 
 gone," said Daisy to him one day, after they had been, for the 
 hundredth time, discussing their dangerous meeting with the
 
 268 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Earl. " If we have to go to that farm in another county, we 
 shall never tend it again." 
 
 " The equinoctial gales will soon come," returned Caradoc, 
 "and I hope to light it every evening while they are blowing. 
 We shall be here while they last. Besides, no one seems to 
 realize that I have made my stand in this neighbourhood, and, 
 if I remain in Wales, it must be at Penruddock. You know 
 that a ' rolling stone gathers no moss.' Besides, if the Earl 
 has really found out our secret, it may be as well to make it 
 public, and let him, the wreckers, and the philanthropists — if 
 there are any, — battle it out amongst them ; they will at least 
 learn that they can save life if they will, and the world will 
 know where the fault lies if they will not. If the Earl take 
 Brynhafod into his own hands, there will be no one to take the 
 part of the shipwrecked. Even Gwylfa will be gone — eh, old 
 dog ? " 
 
 Gwylfa, who was asleep before the hall fire, roused himself 
 up at hearing his name, and came to his master's side, poking 
 his cold nose into his hand, and fixing his eyes upon him. 
 
 " No more little girls to bring ashore, or drowning men to 
 save, my brave old friend," continued Caradoc, sadly. " But 
 God can help them, and bring good from evil. Daisy, what is 
 the matter ? " 
 
 Caradoc had suddenly looked at Daisy, and saw that she 
 stood with hands clasped and lips parted as by a great fear. 
 He repeated his question. 
 
 " You cannot leave us, Carad ! " she cried, impulsively — 
 " you could not be so cruel ! Grandfather is old, father 
 strange, mother melancholy, Michael sick ; we have only you." 
 
 " Absence would be best, for me at least, and perhaps for 
 others," he said, looking down into her troubled eyes. " I had 
 even thought of writing to Sir George Walpole, and asking 
 him to get me the appointment he suggested ; or of taking 
 the partnership still offered me by Dr. Moore. I should earn 
 more in a month there than in a year here, and could help the 
 general cause more effectually."
 
 THE COUNTESS IS DEAD. 269 
 
 " It would be the death of mother, and— and— the misery of 
 us all,** returned Daisy, her clear eyes drooping. " London 
 seems another country, India another world." 
 
 She suppressed some great emotion, and Caradoc saw it. 
 Had it not been for those others — his brother and the future 
 Earl, — he might have fancied that some feeling deeper than 
 that of a sister or friend lay beneath it ; but he smothered even 
 the hope, fearing to encourage in himself a love that he be- 
 lieved neither could nor ought to be returned. All he desired 
 was to be permitted to overcome his own feelings by absence 
 from the beautiful and courageous girl in whose presence he 
 forgot himself, and all else but her. 
 
 " It could not be for some time," he said, after a long 
 silence. " When once they are settled elsewhere, and the 
 wrench is made, they will all be better. Indeed, a change 
 might rouse mother, and be of service to Michael. This 
 sharp sea air does not suit him. I sometimes wish he could 
 take the voyage to India instead of me. Father is strong, and 
 will recover when Michaelmas is past. There seems a strange 
 coincidence now between that period and our Michael's name. 
 I think he was well called, he is so good and religious." " 
 
 " He is, indeed ! " ejaculated Daisy, who had walked 
 towards the window to conceal that emotion which Caradoc 
 saw. 
 
 While she stood there, gazing on the setting sun, Mr. 
 Tudor passed. He came in without knocking, and was 
 breathless and excited. He did not give any kind of greeting, 
 but said, abruptly and hurriedly, " I have sad news. The 
 Countess is dead ! " 
 
 This was an overwhelming announcement, and Caradoc and 
 Daisy were speechless for a few moments. So was the rest of 
 the household when the melancholy intelligence spread. All 
 its members were arrested in their work, complaints, or re- 
 vengeful heart-burnings by the solemn words, " The Countess 
 is dead ! " She was neither much beloved, nor much disliked, 
 but - she was dead !
 
 2J0 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Mr. Tudor had received the announcement from Sir George 
 Walpole. Her ladyship had been sinking, he said, for some 
 weeks, and had died shortly after the Earl's return — " In his 
 arms," he wrote, " and his lordship is so overwhelmed that he 
 has requested me to communicate the sad event to you." 
 
 There was a breathless calm that evening at Brynhafod. No 
 one ventured to comment on what might, they scarcely knew 
 how, affect all the neighbourhood ; but when the still and 
 solemn hour of prayer came, old Mr. Pennant spoke for all. 
 He prayed, in the earnestness of faith, for the bereaved Earl, 
 his son and daughter, and as his words rose, clear and power- 
 ful, to the Throne of the Eternal, evil thoughts departed from 
 the breasts of his fellow-worshippers, and David Pennant 
 groaned in spirit, and ejaculated, " Lord, forgive me ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 EXTINGUISHED. 
 
 ONE breathing form the less in this world, one spirit the 
 more in another ! So it was when the Countess of Craig- 
 avon ceased to live, and so it will be when we shift the mortal 
 and put on immortality. This life was over for her, and what 
 of the next ? Who shall say ? God is Judge, His blessed Son 
 Saviour. But the transition of each soul from one state of 
 existence to another, leaves a strange solemnity behind. We 
 grope in the night for some beacon to point whither it has 
 gone, and ransack the day for memories of what it did, said 
 and believed when in the body. It is then that faith in the 
 atonement of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, is most 
 precious ; then that we realize that without Him hope fails. 
 
 None knew what were the Earl of Craigavon's feelings when 
 he returned alone to the Castle, for he spoke little, and never 
 named the wife from whom he had been parted ; but all 
 speculated upon them, and passed impartial judgment on her 
 whom he had lost. The speculations were doubtful, the 
 judgment negative. Some said he was softened, others 
 hardened. But concerning his wife, all agreed ; and what 
 they said was true. The Countess had done neither much 
 good nor much harm during her existence. The rich knew 
 little of her, the poor nothing. She had lived, apparently, to 
 dress and embroider, to drive and sleep. She had never 
 striven to improve husband or children, and never contra- 
 dicted them. She had been equally passive to her depen- 
 dants, receiving but not giving service ; being neither over- 
 bearing nor grateful. She had lived and died like the graceful
 
 2J2 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 lobelia, diffusing neither poison nor sweet. Still, people said 
 that, had her surroundings been different, she would have been 
 different. This might have been true ; still, it behoves every 
 individual to do his best in the situation in which he is placed, 
 and so to influence others for good. Perhaps the Countess 
 had done her best, none could say ; but she was gone to her 
 account, and her fellow-sinners judged her kindly. 
 
 Not so the Earl. He still remained below and was severely 
 judged, because, having life still preserved, he did not amend. 
 His resolution concerning the Pennants, the vicarage, and his 
 affairs generally, seemed unchanged, and he held the reins of 
 his power as tightly as ever in spite of his bereavement. 
 
 It was understood that Lord Penruddock reached London 
 too late to see his mother alive, and that Lady Mona and her 
 husband were either in Scotland or abroad when the event 
 took place. The Earl left his establishment in town, in- 
 tending, he condescended to tell Mr. Tudor, to rejoin his son 
 there when the Winter Session began. The Countess was 
 buried in London, and the gossips were quite ready to say 
 that this was owing to the expense of bringing her remains to 
 Craigavon. They were also grieved to miss the pageant of a 
 lordly funeral. 
 
 The equinoctial gales came on, and the Earl was as busy 
 as ever with his wrecks. He sent scouts all through his 
 manorial sands, to watch the wreckers, to find out where false 
 lights were placed, to see that he had the proper tithes of his 
 oysters and other fish, and to bring the spoil to the Castle. 
 He was resolved, he said and thought, to make his son the 
 richest instead of one of the poorest noblemen in the prin- 
 cipality. 
 
 While thus engaged he did not forget the true light on the 
 Esgair, nor his meeting with Caradoc and Daisy. Indeed, he 
 had more time to think of what he called his wrongs, now 
 that wife and daughter were far away ! 
 
 One afternoon, when the wind was rising to a gale, he 
 rode to Aran Tower, put up his horse, and having scanned the
 
 EXTINGUISHED. 273 
 
 horizon through his telescopes, ordered Evan to come with 
 him. It was nearly five o'clock when they took a mountain 
 path that led away from Tower and Castle, in the direction of 
 the Esgair. As the Earl did not say whither he was going, 
 Evan did not suspect, but limped along by his lordship's side, 
 answering questions, and trembling for what the next might be. 
 
 " What are they about at Monad ? Is Davy Jones dead ? " 
 asked the Earl. 
 
 " No, my lord, he is well again. Dr. Pennant was curing 
 him," replied Evan. 
 
 " What are they doing at Brynhafod? Where going ? " 
 
 " They are preparing to leave, my lord. The doctor has 
 taken a house in Penruddock, and people say they are all to 
 be stopping there while they are looking for another farm." 
 
 " What will they do with their stock ? " 
 
 " All the farmers in the country are willing to take care of 
 stock and crop till they're settled, my lord. People are saying 
 they've offered to take them in too, but nobody is knowing." 
 • " What has become of that schoolmaster, Ap Adam ? " 
 
 " He is taking turn at the Witch now, my lord. Nanno, 
 Monad, tavern bach, was seeing him on a broomstick the other 
 night down there by the Esgair." 
 
 " What do you mean by ' taking turn '? " 
 
 Evan's voice sank to a whisper, as he glanced round. 
 
 " They are saying, my lord, that he do dress as a man one 
 week, and stop at Brynhafod ; and that he do turn witch, and 
 ride his broomstick up to Cader-y-Witch the next, when he is 
 lighting the witch's fire." 
 
 " We are about to put a stop to his diversions. Show me 
 the shortest path to Cader-y-Witch." 
 
 "There's no path, my lord. 'Tis all tanglewood and rock." 
 
 "You must make a path, for we are going there." 
 
 Evan stood aghast, looking at the Earl. They had reached 
 the point of the hill which dominated the Esgair, and could 
 just see the back ot the great rock known to them as the 
 Witch's Chair. 
 
 T
 
 274 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " I have been so near as I was able, my lord," said trem- 
 bling Evan. " I was watching down there among the fuzz- 
 bushes, when I did see Miss Daisy and the doctor." 
 "Lead the way to that spot," commanded the Earl. 
 They scrambled down the mountain-side, now holding by 
 a stone, now by a twig, and sending goats, sheep, and rabbits 
 scampering, until they reached Evan's hiding-place amongst 
 the gorse. This was, as we have already seen, at the entrance 
 to the Esgair, or ridge of rock, and, indeed, partly hid it 
 from view. 
 
 " Now precede me to the Cader," said the Earl. 
 " The Cader, my lord ! — the chair where the Witch sits 
 when she lights her fire, your lordship ! I 'ouldn't be going 
 there for a million o' money ! " shrieked Evan, beginning to 
 tremble from head to foot. 
 
 "You will go there with me," continued the resolute Earl. 
 " I'm willing to mind the wrecks, and even the drowned 
 men, for your lordship ; I'm taking care of the chests and 
 barrels as the sea throws up as if they were my own ; I'm 
 sacrificing my life, and my time, and my very soul, as Michael 
 Pennant is saying; but I can't be facing the witches and 
 
 fairies — upon my very deed, I can't, my lord— and I " 
 
 Evan was about to add " I won't," terror giving him courage, 
 when he met the Earl's eyes for a moment, and paused. 
 
 " Go, if you intend to keep your place," said his lordship. 
 " Where I can go, you may ; your risk is mine." 
 
 " My lame leg couldn't stand it, my lord. If your lord- 
 ship's prepared for another world, I'm not. Think of his 
 lordship, your son, and don't be risking of your precious life, 
 and of mine, as is precious to me. Hearken how the Witch 
 is raising the wind, and how black it is getting to hinder us." 
 
 The wind was, indeed, rising to a hurricane, and the dark- 
 ness was creeping on. 
 
 " Idiot ! — superstitious fool ! — coward ! " cried the Earl, 
 suddenly forcing his way through a furze-bush, while Evan 
 fell on his knees.
 
 EXTINGUISHED. 275 
 
 His lordship had resolved to go alone. He fixed his eyes 
 on the topmost point of the Witch's Chair, and having sur- 
 mounted the barrier of furze, with many an adverse prick 
 from that bristling enemy, he proceeded along the ridge. 
 He found it less dangerous at first than he had imagined. 
 Such wild stories had been circulated concerning it, not only 
 as regarded the supernatural, but the actual impassableness of 
 the rock, that no one ventured to approach it, save the trio 
 from Brynhafod ; and he had supposed it really impracticable 
 until he had discovered that Daisy scaled it. As he made 
 his way, however, projecting pieces of rock and slippery 
 places sadly impeded it ; and nothing but the energy of hatred 
 and avarice could have induced him to pursue it. But he 
 was thinking not only of himself, but his son. He had re- 
 solved to find out this secret, in the interest of Penruddock, 
 himself, and, as he put it, the world at large — for was it not for 
 the benefit of mankind to unmask pretended witchcraft? And 
 were the wreckers farther down the coast to possess the spoil 
 that should be his ? The lord of Craigavon, like many another, 
 could so far deceive himself as to transform his vices into virtues. 
 
 As he neared the chair, the top of the ridge was so narrow 
 and pointed that he was compelled to crawl along on hands 
 and knees, clinging to the stones and lichens that he met with. 
 However, he triumphed at last, and was at the back of the 
 Cader. He stood awhile, to take breath, behind this curious 
 stronghold of nature. He asked himself whether the fire 
 would be alight on the other side, and what he should see 
 there. He believed in neither witch nor fairy, yet, in spite of 
 his indomitable will, he trembled slightly as he stole cautiously 
 round the huge back of the chair and peeped at the front. 
 There was Caradoc's beacon, blazing in mid-air beneath its 
 protecting canopy of stone. Caradoc had been before him 
 and lighted it. 
 
 The astonished Earl went cautiously to the front, and began 
 to examine the simple structure. His brow darkened, and 
 his hands clenched as he did so. " Only this ! " he muttered,
 
 276 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 as he walked round and round the huge lantern, now looking 
 at one fastening, now another, then seeking to open it and 
 peer within. But the clasp had been subtilely made, and he 
 failed to unclose it. Here, then, was the witch's fire without 
 the witch ; here the light that had puzzled and terrified the 
 wise and ignorant. He had expected to be there early enough 
 to meet the kindler : he only saw the contrivance. The 
 thought was forced upon him that a lighthouse would benefit 
 sailors for generations to come ; but, alas ! he crushed it 
 down with the reflection that this was how he had been de- 
 prived of his manorial rights. He looked from the beacon to 
 the sea. There was a ship struggling with the wind not far from 
 the quicksands, and there were other vessels on the horizon, 
 dimly visible in the lurid autumnal twilight. The sea was 
 beginning to storm the base of the Esgair, urged on by the 
 riotous equinoctial gales. The Earl again turned to the 
 beacon, and began to handle its stays. Those who had fixed 
 them had done so in faith, laying their foundations in the 
 rock, and trusting in God to keep them sure. The Earl did 
 not think of this, when, with a resolution that would have made 
 him a hero in a righteous cause, he managed to unfasten the 
 lantern from its supports, and to leave it swaying in the wind. 
 Did he wish to extinguish the light ? As the wind rose higher 
 and higher he began to feel his own footing insecure, and had 
 to hold by these supports, still rooted in the rock. With great 
 difficulty and personal risk he succeeded in taking down the 
 lantern. He knew that he was safe from observation of man, 
 and gave no thought to the Omniscient Eye then watching him. 
 
 '■'• She shall neither marry nor defraud him ! " he muttered, 
 thinking of Daisy and his son. 
 
 He rested the beacon on the rock, for it was heavy, and 
 holding it firmly with one hand, while he grasped the iron stay 
 with the other, surveyed the darkening, storm-bound coast. 
 The ship was certainly weathering the gale and getting off 
 the quicksands. Letting go the beacon, he gave it a mighty 
 kick, and sent it headlong into the waves below.
 
 ; Only this ! ' he muttered." 
 
 [Page 276.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE CANWYLL CORFF. 
 
 WHAT Evan said concerning the plans of the Brynhafod 
 family was true. While he and the Earl were discus- 
 sing them, Daisy was on her way from the town of Penruddock, 
 where Caradoc had actually taken a small house, to serve as 
 shelter while his father continued obstinate and undecided 
 concerning bis future abode. Daisy was a capital horsewoman 
 and accustomed to ride alone. She was equally fearless by 
 night as by day, and nothing delighted her more than a scamper 
 over the mountain-side in a high wind. Caradoc had promised 
 to come and meet her when he had seen a patient or so and 
 lighted his beacon, so she felt doubly secure as the evening 
 advanced. 
 
 She had been over the new house with a view to furnishing it, 
 and as she rode briskly homewards by the hilly road that 
 separated Penruddock from the hamlet of Craigavon— a distance 
 of six miles — she thought over the impending changes, as the 
 evening came on, heedless of approaching darkness. She had 
 done her best to show a cheerful face at home, but when alone 
 her spirits sometimes sank. Nothing depressed her so much as 
 the dread of separation from Caradoc, who seemed resolved 
 not to relinquish certainty for uncertainty; at least, so he put 
 it. The master, also, had announced his determination no 
 longer to be a burden to his friends, telling Daisy, secretly, that 
 he should remain about the coast, to watch the beacon and the 
 wreckers. She little imagined, as she pondered these matters, 
 what had even then happened to her beloved light. 
 
 When she reached the point at the top of the hill, where 
 
 *77
 
 278 THE PENNANT FAMILY 
 
 Caradoc had promised to meet her, she reined in her horse, 
 and waited awhile. Beneath her lay, far-stretching into the sea, 
 on the left, the Castle; on the right, the Esgair; and midway, 
 the Tower. Mountain paths led from all these to the rutty 
 road she had reached, and her eyes pierced the gathering 
 obscurity to follow the one from the Esgair, in the hope of 
 seeing Caradoc ascend it. But he did not appear. Had he 
 been at hand he must have seen her, for she and her horse 
 stood out well-defined upon the mountain. 
 
 " He has missed me, and we must brave the wind alone,' 
 she said, and turned her horse's head to the left. 
 
 The horse knew his way, and descended the hill in safety, 
 until they reached a cross-road that led, on one side, to the 
 Castle, on the other to the farm. It was dark, but the sure- 
 footed and sagacious beast feared night as little as his mistress. 
 He had taken the way to Brynhafod, when Daisy, glancing 
 down the other road, thought she saw a light moving towards it 
 from the direction of the cliffs. 
 
 " It is the canwyll co?-ff. I will meet it ! " she cried, and 
 turned the somewhat unwilling horse the other way. 
 
 Riding as quickly as she could down the Castle road, she 
 reached a gate that led to the downs. It was open, and she 
 urged her horse through it. What with the darkness and wind 
 they had both much difficulty in taking up and maintaining a 
 position beneath the hedge that flanked the gate. She saw the 
 light she believed she had often seen before, making towards 
 her, and it must be confessed that, in spite of her courage, she 
 trembled. 
 
 " Carad says it is only a jack-o'-lantern. If it were super- 
 natural the horse would shake — all animals do when the fairies 
 come," she murmured, patting hers. 
 
 The light came steadily on. 
 
 " It must be visible from the sea to all ships that have not 
 passed the Esgair," she thought. " It might lure them to 
 destruction, and probably has. Why am I frightened when it 
 is cnly a vapour? I wonder the wind doesn't put it out."
 
 THE CANWYLL CORFF. 279 
 
 As it drew nearer and nearer, her horse pricked up his ears 
 and neighed. 
 
 " Thou art not terrified, at least, Pen, or thou wouldst not 
 neigh ! " she added, stroking him. 
 
 But the fitful fire wavered and retreated, as if startled by the 
 sound. She was also startled, for she fancied she perceived 
 that some large, dark body retreated with it. After a while, 
 however, it advanced again, and as it approached she was con- 
 vinced that some object, either corporeal or ghostly, accom- 
 panied it. She stroked her horse, and whispered to him to be 
 quiet. He knew her well and understood her, for she had 
 made of him a friend and intelligent companion, by kind treat- 
 ment and gentle management. Every one who likes may make 
 a confidential friend of horse or dog. Pen stood still as a 
 warrior's steed, while Daisy had enough to do to keep her hat 
 secure from the riotous wind, which had already loosened her 
 long, fair hair. Happily, the gale kept off the rain, and she 
 feared the wind as little as the wind feared her. So she and 
 Pen stood their ground beneath the hedge, which she knew to 
 be thick and sheltering. On and on came the cawwyll corff, 
 now pausing and seeming to flicker, now advancing unsteadily. 
 As her sight accustomed itself to the gloom, she became assured 
 it was followed by a huge figure of some sort, and she trembled 
 in spite of herself; but not so the horse. He pricked his ears 
 and turned his head towards it. 
 
 "Softly, Pen— quietly, good horse!" whispered Daisy. 
 
 Although she was, as we have said, fearless, she was not 
 quite free from the superstitions of the country, and that of the 
 corpse-candle, as the precursor of death, terrified her somewhat, 
 in spite of Ap Adam's and Caradoc's arguments. Still she kept 
 her seat bravely until the wandering light actually came nearly 
 close to where she was ; when she felt ready to fall from her 
 horse from terror. She distinctly saw the figure of a man on 
 horseback, and the candle, or whatever it might be, appeared 
 to be fastened to the horse's head. By some uncontrollable 
 impulse, Pen neighed again. A deep voice sounded, and the
 
 28o THE TENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 phantom seemed about to bear the terrible light away. Eut 
 Daisy uttered a shrill cry, and arrested them. She had recog- 
 nised the voice. 
 
 For a moment the light fell on her, and a hand suddenly 
 turned the lantern that contained this much dreaded candle, 
 and darkness succeeded. The horseman, whether shadow or 
 substance, was about to pass Daisy and the gate, when she 
 suddenly turned Pen round and impeded the way. She 
 recovered courage and voice sufficient to exclaim, authorita- 
 tively, — 
 
 "Stop, you shall not pass till the light is put out!" 
 
 She was conscious that it was a dark lantern. 
 
 " Who are you who dare to stop the way ? Let me pass," 
 returned the voice, and the speaker urged his horse against 
 Daisy's, hurtling both steed and rider, but not discomposing 
 them. 
 
 "I am the waif saved from the ship wrecked by means of 
 your false light,"'she replied, boldly. 
 
 " I know you. You are the witch of the Esgair," cried the 
 dark rider, again striving to push his way. 
 
 "And I know you, my lord. You are the Earl of Craig- 
 avon ! " she replied, dauntlessly, holding the pass. 
 
 " Witch? sorceress ! I will denounce you to the world !" 
 
 " Lordly wrecker and cruel miser, God shall denounce 
 you ! " 
 
 Truth was revealed there in the darkness. The shipwrecked 
 had discovered one of the lights so long employed to lure sea- 
 farers to their ocean grave, and the lord of the castle and the 
 manor used it for his greed. 
 
 " Witch, let me pass ! " growled the Earl, after a pause. 
 
 " Not till you have extinguished the light," replied the brave 
 girl. 
 
 " Your witch's fire is put out, and will never burn again," he 
 returned, savagely. " Mine only lights me over the cliffs." 
 
 "True light and false, my lord. The beacon saves, the 
 corpse-candle destroys. Beware lest it foretell evil for yourself.
 
 THE CANWYLL CORFF. 2Sl 
 
 I am told that such a light was seen before the ship sank that 
 bore my parents and me ; they were drowned —I was, perhaps, 
 saved to avenge them." 
 
 " Girl ! you shall never marry my son !" 
 
 " Your son, my lord ! I would not wed your son, even if I 
 loved him. That is not the retribution prepared for you. Were 
 he fairer than lilies and purer than refined gold, I would not 
 have him." 
 
 The passionate scorn of Daisy's voice must have told on the 
 Earl, for his, usually cool and hard, changed. 
 
 "Not have him ! There is not a lady in the land who would 
 not marry Lord Penruddock." 
 
 " Maybe I am a lady born, and I would not, my lord. Let 
 that fear sleep for ever. And the beacon on the Esgair is not 
 mine, but my brother Carad's, who has saved as many lives as 
 the false fires have lost. He is a man, and will face the world 
 now that we know what the jack-o'-lantern is ! A lantern after 
 all ! Put it out, my lord, and pass. Or let me extinguish it." 
 
 While they had been talking, the Earl's horse had moved 
 towards Daisy's, and their heads touched. Daisy leaned over 
 her saddle, stretched out her arm towards the lantern, and, 
 before the Earl could prevent it, turned it round and opened it. 
 The lisrht kindled her face for a moment as she bent towards 
 it ; then the wind instantly blew it out. The Earl had a whip 
 in his hand, which he raised with intent to strike her; but she 
 reined back her horse almost into the hedge, and so avoided 
 the blow. 
 
 "Pass on, my lord," she cried, waving the offending hand 
 towards the gate. 
 
 " Curse you for a witch ! " exclaimed he. 
 
 "And may God forgive you for your curse," she replied. 
 
 The Earl remained a moment uncertain, muttering words 
 which the wind carried off, and which did not reach Daisy. 
 Remembering their encounter on the cliff, however, she thought 
 it possible that he might dismount and obstruct her passage in 
 turn ; and she resolved accordingly. He was, indeed, prepar-
 
 282 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 ing to dismount, although she could not see him for the dark- 
 ness. She stooped over her horse and whispered, " Now, Pen, 
 up the down. You know the way," just as the Earl had one 
 foot on the ground, the other in his stirrup. 
 
 The wind was blowing a hurricane, but the horse breasted it 
 at once. He set off at a gallop, only slightly guided by Daisy, 
 whose hat had fallen, and whose habit swelled in the gale. The 
 discomfited Earl glanced after them through the night, and 
 remounted, resolving on bitter revenge. While the one trusted 
 to equine sagacity on the wild mountain— midway of which 
 stood the farm, — and the other in the rocky road leading to the 
 promontory— on which was seated the Castle, — signals of dis- 
 tress reached them from the sea, and each felt sure that some 
 hapless ship must have struck upon the quicksands. The light 
 on the Esgair had failed— the canwyll corff succeeded !
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE WRECKERS. 
 
 WHILE Daisy was waiting on horseback for Caradoc, 
 on the Mynydd Fach, or Little Mountain, lie had 
 been ascending it on foot, with the intention of meeting her, 
 according to promise. But, glancing back towards the Esgair, 
 he distinctly saw the figure of a man on its summit. He had 
 always feared lest some wrecker, less superstitious than his 
 compeers, might brave the supposed witch in a desire to 
 extinguish the beacon ; so he paused to watch the figure 
 scramble back from the Cader, and disappear amongst the 
 gorse. Impelled by fear of consequences, instead of keeping 
 his appointment with Daisy, he hurried back towards the 
 Esgair. He arrived at its entrance while just light enough 
 remained for him to see two men walking across the cliffs in 
 the direction of the Tower. One of these he knew, from his 
 limp, must be Evan ; the other he suspected, from his height 
 and carriage, to be the Earl. At first he was prompted to 
 follow them, but, changing his mind at a sudden thought, he 
 ascended the Esgair instead. Accustomed as he was to the 
 height, he was not long in reaching the Cader-y-Witch. 
 
 "They have put out the light !" he exclaimed, in a voice of 
 anger and alarm, as, rounding the back of the great chair, he 
 found himself in darkness. " They have carried off the 
 lantern," he added, looking at the void, and feeling for his 
 iron girders. " Can there be such devils in human form ? I 
 will expose them, come what may ; the truth shall be known 
 
 before we leave. There are sure to be ships in danger in this 
 
 =83
 
 284 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 wind and darkness." He glanced round. "Ah! that is a 
 wrecker's fire down by the quicksands ! " 
 
 Careless of the night, or the result, Caradoc began to 
 descend the rock by the dangerous path already mentioned, 
 crying aloud, "God will defend the tight, though His ways 
 seem strange tome !" He reached the base in safety, guarded 
 by that protecting Power. The tide was ebbing, so he 
 scrambled along the beach in the direction of the fire, which 
 was lighted on a rock as near the quicksands as possible. As 
 the light on the Esgair led away from the quicksands, so this 
 fire would lure into them. He knew the very point where it 
 was kindled, and now stumbling over rocks and stones, now 
 wading through pools of salt water, lie resolutely laboured on 
 towards it. 
 
 "The wretches have sighted a ship, or they would not have 
 kindled it," he muttered. " I am glad to see for myself what 
 I have watched for so Ion?." 
 
 He reached it at last, and found that it was a kind of 
 bonfire, which must have been kept alight by means of dry 
 seaweed and brushwood. Two men were seated watching it, 
 whose faces were clearly revealed by the flames that fell upon 
 them. One was Davy Jones, the fisherman, the other his 
 nephew. Caradoc went boldly towards them, and, before they 
 had time either to resist or escape, collared them. He was 
 taller than they, and had the advantage of youth over Davy; 
 but they were too muscular to remain long in his grip. 
 
 "I know you both. I am Caradoc Pennant," he cried, as 
 the younger man got loose, and was about to attack him. 
 "Was it for this I saved your life, Davy? For this Michael 
 preached and Daisy read ? Cowards ! can you find no better 
 way of life than by murder ? " 
 
 "The Earl won't let us," growled Davy. "If we fish, he 
 takes our haul ; if we watch for waifs, he claims 'em; if we try 
 One light, he tries another. He's a worse witch than the witch 
 o' the Esgair, who hasn't put up her candle to-night. Come 
 you, Master Carad, we 'out be standing that. We're only
 
 THE WRECKERS. 285 
 
 watching for the oyster boats as knows this corner for 
 landing." 
 
 Caradoc had stamped his foot into the midst of the fire, 
 which was already having a struggle with the wind to keep 
 alight at all, and in spite of the efforts of the men to prevent 
 him, succeeded in extinguishing it just about the time that 
 Daisy blew out the Earl's candle. So all the lights, false and 
 true, on that particular coast, were extinguished. Almost 
 immediately Caradoc and the men heard the minute-gun. 
 
 "Has she struck?" asked Caradoc. 
 
 "No; she be too far ahead, by the sound," growled Davy. 
 
 "Then come with me to Monad, and put out the boats," 
 cried Caradoc. "If you refuse I'll have you up before the 
 justices to-morrow." 
 
 "The Earl will protect us and dumbfounder you, my lad. 
 But I'll go if you promise not to tell, because you were saving 
 my life," replied Davy, sulkily. 
 
 "I promise nothing; but I know you well, Davy, and you're 
 not so bad as they say you are." 
 
 " If I'm bad, 'tis the Earl's fault. Come along, Shenkin. 
 We shall all three break our necks ; but if Master Carad don't 
 mind, why, I don't, since he's clever enough to mend 'em 
 again." 
 
 While the trio make their way towards Monad, under cover 
 of the darkness, we must return to Daisy, who has just reached 
 Lrynhafod. 
 
 All there had been quiet up to that hour. The day had 
 passed in harvesting, and slow, almost secret preparations for 
 removal; the evening, so far, in an almost lethargic stillness. 
 David Pennant had sunk back into his state of persistent 
 fretting since the Earl's return— now showing the impulsive 
 side of his character, now the obstinate — and only restrained 
 from resistance by his filial respect and obedience. The 
 minds of the others were engrossed in him, and every thought 
 and action of every day tended, in some degree, towards him. 
 He had been for more than an hour, in silence and gloom,
 
 286 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 seated on the corner of the settle, his wife by his side, trying 
 to comfort him by constantly wiping the tears from her eyes. 
 This had been her way of showing sympathy from the first, in 
 spite of Daisy's entreaties and Marget's scolding. The old 
 farmer was quietly smoking his pipe in the chimney-corner, 
 and Michael turning over the leaves of a book, and listening 
 for Daisy and Caradoc. 
 
 Thus they were when Daisy burst in upon them, breathless 
 with excitement and the wind ; her headgear gone, her hair 
 streaming over her shoulders. 
 
 " The gun ! the gun ! Father, Michael, there is a ship in 
 distress ! " she cried. 
 
 She had left both doors open, and the signal reached the 
 ears of the inmates of the hall for the first time. All started 
 up. Since the beacon had been set upon the Esgair, danger 
 signals had been rare on that part of the coast. Light re- 
 turned to David Pennant's eye, courage to his heart, strength 
 to his sinews. He listened a moment, then went to the door 
 and looked out. 
 
 "She is yonder. I see a light from a rocket or gun this 
 side the Esgair," he cried. " We must go to Monad. Call 
 the men, Michael. Prepare the ropes. Get ready, mother. 
 She will never weather this gale." 
 
 David Pennant was himself again, the man we saw when 
 first introduced to him. In less than five minutes he and his 
 were prepared to save life, if possible. But on this occasion 
 the old farmer was content to remain at home, while Michael 
 accompanied his father. Years had brought the feebleness of 
 old age to the one, the strength of manhood to the other; for 
 Michael, though weak of body, was strong of soul, and no one 
 ventured to obstruct him in the path of duty. 
 
 While the gale shook the gabled farm and threatened to 
 uproot the trees and blow down the corn-stacks, the men 
 sallied forth with their lanterns, and the old farmer and the 
 women alone remained behind. The latter busied themselves 
 in preparations, although they scarcely believed the ship-
 
 THE WRECKERS. 287 
 
 wrecked, if saved, could reach Brynhafod from Monad on 
 such a night. It was a mile beyond the bay where Daisy was 
 wrecked. All asked where Carad was, and Daisy's anxiety 
 about him was intense. Indeed, the events of her evening 
 had been such as to make her almost incapable of further 
 action, and she longed for him in order to confide them to 
 another. Had the Earl met with him? Had they quarrelled ? 
 Or had he seen the struggling ship and gone to the beach ? 
 
 He had gone to the beach as we know, and reached Monad 
 with his companions, just as his father and his followers 
 arrived. So strong a counter- force awed the wreckers, who 
 were all astir, waiting for what might turn up. The Monad 
 beach was a grim scene that night, while Caradoc went from 
 one fisherman to another, urging them to put out to sea in the 
 direction of the vessel, the lights in which were visible from 
 the beach. 
 
 " Davy Jones, you are as good a pilot as there is in the 
 country," said David Pennant. "If she isn't actually aground, 
 you could pilot her round the Esgair. Where do you think 
 she is?" 
 
 " Among the rocks by the quicksands," growled Davy. 
 " Couldn't reach her in this wind. Blowing great guns ! " 
 
 " I will go with you," cried Caradoc. " You know I can 
 handle an oar with any of you, or could." 
 
 Meanwhile, Michael wandered from man to man, speaking 
 "words that burn." His preaching had not been quite in 
 vain, and he stimulated them to action by scriptural threats 
 and promises. While he talked, and his father offered his 
 " best corn-mow " to any one who should put out and either 
 pilot or tow the vessel in, the wind lulled a little. 
 
 " Let us save her and cheat the Earl," cried David Pennant. 
 
 " Let us brave the wind, and not shirk the gale like a set 
 of cowards ! " exclaimed Caradoc, beginning to drag a boat 
 towards the shelving beach, whence they launched her. 
 
 " Let us do the Lord's will, and trust in Him," said Michael, 
 while another signal sounded, nearer than the last.
 
 2S8 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Come along then, or she'll run aground. I'll do what the 
 Pennants want, for they saved my life," said Davy Jones, 
 helping Caradoc to push the boat. 
 
 "And I don't mind if I lend a hand," said Davy's nephew, 
 and one or two other fishermen, and the boat was manned, 
 Caradoc leaping in first and seizing an oar. 
 
 They pushed her into the sea in the wind and dark, and 
 while she bravely rode the stormy billows in the direction of 
 the dim light and sound from the ship, sturdily pulled on by 
 her resolute crew, David Pennant and the others watched 
 anxiously from the beach. And at that moment, old Mr. 
 Pennant and the women were engaged in prayer at the 
 farm.
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 WHILE the boat was making for the ship, and its friends 
 watching and praying, the Earl of Craigavon was in 
 his Tower, reviewing the events of the day. The last, natu- 
 rally, was the most prominent, and he thought much of Daisy, 
 chief actor in it. He reflected that she had discovered a 
 secret which he had jealously guarded for years. If he had 
 for ever extinguished her witch's fire, she had put out his 
 camvyll corff. If he denounced her as a witch, she might 
 pronounce him a wizard. He supposed that the world would 
 credit an Earl before a wretched foundling ; still he did not 
 care to be exposed to it as a possible wrecker. If brought 
 to the point he could of course say what he tried hard to 
 believe — that he had used the lantern to light him across the 
 cliffs — but who would credit him? He justified to himself 
 the deceit he had practised, and the evil results of it, by 
 thinking that he had only sought to render the false lights of 
 the wreckers abortive, and to secure his own dues, by using a 
 light himself. But still such conscience as remained to him 
 pricked him, and the echo of certain piteous cries, heard in 
 the dead of night, pierced him through and through. The 
 thought of his son always consoled him, but with him was 
 now associated Daisy, the recollection of whom was worse 
 than a nightmare. Even if he could credit her assurance that 
 she would not marry Penruddock, he knew that his son loved 
 her, and his happiness and advancement were dearer to him 
 than all but life. He could not face death, even for him ! 
 Should he let him marry the girl, and so bind her over to 
 
 £ 8 9 U
 
 290 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 secrecy? Haired and pride forbade. He was to meet 
 Penruddock shortly in town, and then he would find out 
 whether he had forgotten her for some more suitable beauty. 
 But the idea of town recalled the elopement of his daughter 
 and the consequent death of his wife. Turn where he would, 
 he met disappointment and distress. 
 
 In spite of his morose, unforgiving nature, he was rather 
 sore than angered towards Lady Mona, and still sorrowful 
 for the Countess. To see him, no one would have believed 
 this, but he was himself conscious of it when he ruminated 
 over the past. Still sorer and more sorrowful was he when 
 he remembered Sir George Walpole, and that his money might 
 have been added to the riches of the Craigavons. He was, 
 however, comforted by the recollection that Sir George was 
 even then in the Mediterranean, yachting with Penruddock, 
 and that it was not unlikely that the nabob might make him 
 his heir, in default of nearer relatives, for they claimed cousin- 
 ship in some remote degree. 
 
 The idea of gold recalled the Earl to the present time and 
 place, and while listening to the winds that ran riot about his 
 Tower, and the waves that they tossed up and down like 
 so many shuttlecocks, he remembered the gun that he had 
 heard when he parted from Daisy. If other signals had 
 succeeded them, the boisterous equinoctial had carried the 
 sounds away from him, for he had not heard them. He had 
 extinguished the beacon on the Esgair, and hung out his own 
 instead, so there was probably a wreck somewhere, and the 
 waifs were his. He had left strict orders with that timorous 
 fool, Evan, to look after them, and see that his other myrmidons 
 did the same ; but he would be up with the dawn himself, to be 
 sure that he was not cheated of his rights. 
 
 Having now his establishment at the Castle he went down- 
 stairs to his solitary supper — for in those days a nine o'clock 
 meal was supper, not dinner, and he had dined early. Although 
 the repast was singularly frugal, it was laid with all the pomp of 
 plate and china. There was no superfluity of light, a candle at
 
 RETRIBUTION. 29 1 
 
 either elbow serving him to see what he ate ; but he was waited 
 on by a couple of powdered domestics, retained more on Lord 
 Penruddock's account than his own — for he was about to get 
 rid of such superfluous servants as had belonged particularly to 
 the Countess. When he had finished his meal he walked rest- 
 lessly from room to room, giving orders and prying into odd 
 corners. His words were always so few and commanding that, 
 whether pleasant or unpleasant to his hearers, they never dared 
 to contradict them. So when he complained of this unbarred 
 door, or that needless waste, no one ventured to make excuses. 
 He finally summoned Morris, and bade her accompany him to 
 her lady's rooms. He, like the rest of us, was a strange anomaly. 
 He could not summon courage to go there alone, yet had visited 
 the Countess's apartments the last thing at night ever since his 
 return. Morris remained near the door while he walked through 
 the familiar tapestried room, candle in hand, and paused before 
 three exquisitely-painted miniatures that hung above the mantel- 
 piece. They were likenesses of the Countess and her children. 
 He looked at his son's last, then passed Morris, and left the 
 room quietly. When he finally retired to his Tower for the 
 night, his valet duly came to him, and was dismissed with an 
 order to tell certain men to be astir early, as there would be 
 probably wreckage and fallen timber to look after. Then he 
 locked his door and sat down to his accounts. It was late when 
 he went to bed, and the winds had somewhat abated. He lay 
 long awake, thinking of his son, and, in spite of himself, of Daisy 
 and the lights. When he dozed off he dreamed that Lord Pen- 
 ruddock and Daisy were married, and that Lady Mona was 
 bridesmaid. He did not usually dream such cheerful dreams, 
 and when he awoke from it he almost wished it real — but a 
 vision of Daisy on horseback, and her words, "They were 
 drowned ; I was perhaps saved to avenge them ! " dispelled the 
 brightness, and restored the gloom. 
 
 We might describe how the miser-earl — the wrecker-lord, 
 started in his sleep and clutched at some weapon that lay by his 
 side ; but the restlessness of the wicked is best pictured by the
 
 292 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 psalmist as " like a troubled sea that cannot rest," and the Earl's 
 sleep was fitful and uneasy as the ocean that surrounded him. 
 
 He arose, as he had resolved, at daybreak, and dressed 
 hastily. No prayers for a Father's care or daily bread passed 
 his lips, but rather curses on the innocent girl who haunted his 
 thoughts as well as path, and whose life, from the time she was 
 cast upon the beach below the Castle till his encounter with her 
 the previous evening, passed before his mind. Strange to say, 
 when he descended the rocky, private path to Ton Bay, he 
 fancied he saw her figure descending the hill in the direction of 
 Brynhafod. He was right ; Daisy, like himself, was abroad, for 
 Caradoc had not yet returned, and she could not rest in un- 
 certainty. 
 
 When they left their respective abodes, it was between seven 
 and eight o'clock. It was a dark, misty morning, and although 
 the sun had risen according to his custom, he was veiled by 
 vapour, which, rolling up the hills, had just passed over Bryn- 
 hafod and its fields, and was ascending to the mountain-top 
 before dispersing in the sunlight. The wind was still high, but 
 not so powerful as during the night, and the rough sea was con- 
 sequently calmer also. Neither ship nor boat was visible on 
 its bosom, which heaved and swelled incessantly, yet displayed 
 neither waves nor foam. It was a dull, grey, cold, cheerless, 
 autumnal morning, and the Earl shivered as he wandered down 
 the path, and passed the little gate where Daisy parted from 
 the Lady Mona. 
 
 The Earl picked his way through stones and brushwood 
 that the winds had scattered until he reached the bay. He 
 paused to look across the turbid, troubled sea through a field- 
 glass, which he always carried, but nothing was visible on its 
 breast save the sea-mews, restlessly fluttering and dipping their 
 wings here and there. He was suddenly attracted from his 
 survey by a strange whining cry, which he at first attributed to 
 a gull hovering near ; but afterwards discovered to come from 
 a distance. He glanced across the bay at the rocks and beach 
 opposite the Castle, and thought he saw some sort of dark figure.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 293 
 
 The tide had been lately at its full, but was now ebbing, so he 
 was able to cross the sands, which he found unstrewn with any 
 wreckage. Indeed, he knew that, if there had been a wreck 
 the previous night, it must have happened farther down the 
 coast. Ton Bay was of considerable width, so it took him 
 some time to go round it beneath the rock, particularly as he 
 walked at leisure, his eyes on the ground. Midway, he heard 
 another whining cry, and glancing up assured himself that it 
 proceeded from a large dog, at the extremity of the bay, not far 
 from the road that led to Brynhafod. 
 
 "It is doubtless Pennant's beast," he muttered, and walked on. 
 
 As he drew nearer he saw that it was indeed Gwylfa, standing 
 on the beach, not far from the receding waves. The Earl 
 fancied he was watching something, but what he could not tell, 
 for his large shaggy back was between him and the object of 
 his care. His lordship hastened his pace a little, and was not 
 long before he discovered that the good dog was standing over 
 the prostrate figure of a man. 
 
 "Drowned!" he exclaimed; first withdrawing a few steps, 
 then again advancing. 
 
 Gwylfa became conscious of his proximity, and turning his 
 head, ran to meet him. This was unusual, for the dog, like his 
 masters, generally avoided the Earl. On this occasion, however, 
 he put his wet paw on his arm, and looked wistfully into his 
 face, with a whine so pitiful that it seemed to pierce the very 
 rocks and stones. There was a feeling more than human in his 
 large, soft eyes that looked as if they were shedding tears of 
 tender compassion. Oh ! if he could but have spoken, what 
 passionate, touching words he would have said ! Tinning his 
 great, dripping head from the Earl to the figure on the sands, 
 he used now one paw, now the other, as if to draw him towards 
 it. His lordship hesitated, but went slowly. As he approached 
 he perceived that the form Gwylfa had left was immovable. 
 It was that of a tall man, dressed as a gentleman. The back 
 was towards the Earl ; the face, apparently, buried in the 
 sands.
 
 294 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " It must be the dog's master, Caradoc Pennant," exclaimed 
 the Earl, with a sort of grim chuckle. 
 
 Gwylfa looked at him as if he understood him, gave another 
 shrill whine, and tried to drag him onwards by seizing his coat 
 with his teeth. 
 
 The Earl had seen many drowned men, and even watched 
 and aided his dependents in removing what was valuable from 
 their persons, in order, he said, to execute justice ; but there 
 was something here that made him quail. He stood at a 
 distance, the dog between him and the figure ; half inclined to 
 turn back and send some servant to the spot. But either his 
 greed or Gwylfa's teeth prevailed, and he went up to it. No 
 sooner was he near than Gwylfa let him go, and placed his paw 
 on the drowned figure, fixing his eyes, full of a sort of yearning, 
 entreating pity, on his lordship. 
 
 " He may not be dead," murmured the Earl, stooping over 
 the body. 
 
 He could not see the face, but a jewel glittered on the half- 
 concealed hand. He seemed about to move the long, damp 
 figure, when Gwylfa gave a shrill bark, and bounded up the 
 beach towards the road, pushed through the fence, and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 The Earl was alone with the drowned. 
 
 " It must be that Pennant ! " he muttered, summoning cour- 
 age to turn the body. 
 
 What did he see ? He started back and grew ghastly pale- 
 He uttered a cry that echoed through the rocks, over the swell- 
 ing sea, and up to the grim bulwarks of his majestic castle. 
 He uplifted his arms and staggered like a drunken man ; he 
 fixed his eyes upon the face he had upturned until they became 
 glazed by the paralysis of sudden agony ; then his hands fell 
 helplessly, his body bent, and with another cry that must have 
 pierced, not earth only, but heaven, he fell, as dead, upon the 
 drowned man at his feet. He had extinguished the beacon — 
 he had held out the false light — and he had looked on the dead 
 face of his own and only son !
 
 " He started back, and grew ghastly pale." 
 
 [Page 294.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 "take him up tenderly." 
 
 GWYLFA had left the beach, and his sad service there, 
 to meet Daisy, whom he had seen on the hill. She 
 was about to take the cliff-path to Monad, in the hope cf 
 hearing something of Caradoc, when the good dog reached 
 her. She saw that he had been in the sea, and her first word 
 was "Carad." Her second, "Where is he, Gwylfa? Where?" 
 For answer, he looked at her pitifully, and then turned towards 
 the beach — made a few steps — returned — wagged his great, 
 wet, fringy tail — touched her with his paw — laid hold of her 
 dress, and made her understand that she must change her 
 plans and follow him. She did so in much fear, and they 
 went, as quickly as they could, down the stony mountain road 
 that led from the farm to the bay. 'When they reached the 
 rough fence that was put to resist the inroads of the sea, 
 Gwylfa was over at once, but Daisy paused before the stone 
 stile and glanced after him. What she saw on the beach below 
 chilled her like ice. Two bodies, apparently face to face, the 
 arms of the topmost round the other, just as if they had been 
 so cast up by the sea. Her agony was, for the moment, so 
 great, that she feared she must fall from the stony eminence on 
 which she stood ; for she could think only of Carad. Gwylfa 
 stood between her and the prostrate figures, as if to urge her 
 on, but she could not move. She fancied she recognised the 
 Earl's tall, slim form in the uppermost, and having watched 
 him descend the rock, her fancy grew into certainty; but what 
 of the other ? Was it Carad ? At first she thought it was, 
 and, under any circumstances, the ship he sought to save must
 
 20/> THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 have been wrecked, for had not this man been cast ashore? 
 But, gazing intently, she thought she saw locks of fair hair 
 beneath the grey head of him she believed to be the Earl ; and 
 Carad's hair was black. A whine from Gwylfa reached her, 
 and she made a great effort to answer it by joining him. No 
 woman could be braver than she was, yet she felt paralysed 
 with a terror that the thought of the drowned always caused 
 her. She mastered it at last, and, with a white face and cold 
 trembling limbs, went down the steep fence. She and Gwylfa 
 reached the melancholy pair together, and the tender dog 
 began to lick the one cheek alone visible. 
 
 Daisy laid her hand gently on the Earl, whose clothes she 
 saw were dry, and said, " My lord ! For pity's sake, rouse up, 
 my lord ! " but neither movement nor sound responded to her 
 touch or speech. One look at what was visible of that other 
 sufficed ; she recognised him who had loved her ! With a 
 piercing cry she sprang up the beach, re-crossed the fence, and 
 looked about wildly for help. She would not believe that they 
 'were dead, though they might be before she could get aid, and 
 the farm was three quarters of a mile from the beach. She 
 gained the highest point of the cliff, and shouted as loud as 
 terror would let her. She saw a man hastening from the 
 Monad side, and ran towards him. 
 
 " Oh, thank God ! thank God, it is you, Carad ! " she cried, 
 and threw her arms round him, forgefting all but that he 
 was safe. 
 
 He held her a moment, and kissed her tenderly; then, 
 seeing her blanched face, and feeling how she trembled, asked 
 her what was the matter. She could not answer, she could 
 only point to the beach below. 
 
 " What is it, dear?" he said, still holding her while she tried 
 to regain self-possession. 
 
 " The Earl ! Lord Penruddock ! " she muttered at last. 
 
 "What of Lord Penruddock?" he asked. "We saved his 
 yacht and Sir George Walpole, and the pilot and part of the 
 crew. But he had insisted on rowing to the Castle, in spite of
 
 "TAKE HIM UP TENDERLY. 297 
 
 the wind, while the vessel made for the harbour. The boat 
 struck on the quicksands, capsized, and the two sailors swam 
 ashore ; but we cannot find his lordship. We are in search of 
 him. I know he cannot swim. Have you seen him, Daisy, 
 darling ? " 
 
 As he spoke the terrified girl only clung the closer to him, 
 and pointing to the beach, answered, " There ! There ! The 
 beacon — the canwyll corff— the Esgair ! " 
 
 " Our light was put out, and the pilot did not know where 
 to steer. The corpse-candle was seen, and probably deluded 
 him and the sailors in the boat— but have you seen Lord 
 Penruddock ? " 
 
 Daisy, recovering herself with a great effort, clasped her 
 hands, and, turning her horror-stricken eyes upon Caradoc, 
 said, "Oh, Carad ! It is too terrible. The Earl and he lie 
 together down there on the sands ! " 
 
 Caradoc, understanding nothing, hurried down the cliff to 
 the fence, followed by Daisy. 
 
 What he saw we know. 
 
 " Go home, Daisy, darling," he said to the staggering girl. 
 " Take courage. Send the men. Send every one. I have 
 restoratives with me. I shall revive them. They are probably 
 still alive." 
 
 He leapt the fence, and she, touched by a gleam of hope, 
 hastened to the farm. 
 
 Caradoc's compassionate heart sank when he drew near the 
 father and son. It was, indeed, a pitiful sight — too harrowing 
 for minute description. He found that the one, though 
 stunned or paralysed, still lived ; the other was too surely 
 dead. Using all his strength and all his tenderness, he sepa- 
 rated them. In doing so his hot tears fell on the fair, upturned 
 face of his former rival, and he would almost have given his 
 life — nay, Daisy herself — to hear him speak again. But words 
 would never again pass the lips of him so lately rich in beauty, 
 health, and all that the world most covets. The body alone 
 was there, and what of the soul ?
 
 298 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Caradoc reverently closed the dimmed eyes, and threw his 
 handkerchief over the white face; then drew the Earl, with 
 great difficulty, to a distance. But Gwylfa still kept watch by 
 the drowned. 
 
 All that Caradoc could do was to keep the spark from going 
 out in the Earl's flickering lamp. But for his belief in an 
 eternity of misery for such as die unrepentant, he could almost 
 have wished it extinguished— he dreaded so much the rekind- 
 ling of the wick. He remained beside him, feeling his pulse, 
 and administering such stimulants as he fortunately had with 
 him, until help came. As he expected, his father arrived first, 
 but was soon followed by Michael and the farm men, bearing 
 hurdles, blankets, a large chair, and everything they could 
 suppose available for transporting those of whom Daisy had 
 spoken with suppressed terror and agony. 
 
 David Pennant went from unconscious father to dead son, 
 his soul cowed by grief and self-reproach, but every evil feeling 
 departed. 
 
 " Take him up tenderly. Lift him with care," he said, using 
 unconsciously words that were years afterwards to bring tears 
 from many an eye. "May God comfort his afflicted father! 
 Bear him to the Castle first, out of his sight. Nay, let me 
 uplift him, and help to carry his bier." 
 
 The awe-stricken men obeyed the orders, and while Michael 
 outspread the blankets and coverlets as for one asleep, they 
 laid him, who slept only too well, in their midst, and bore him 
 to the Castle, David Pennant taking the head of the bier, and 
 Gwylfa following. It was a melancholy procession indeed. 
 
 Then Caradoc, Michael, and some other men uplifted the 
 Earl, with some difficulty, and placed him in the large chair. 
 His stony eyes unclosed during the task, but he did not 
 recover consciousness. The two brothers placed themselves 
 on either side, the men at the back ; and so they carried the Earl 
 cf Craigavon to the Castle, after his drowned son.
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 "found drowned!" 
 
 " T^OUND drowned!" was the verdict passed by the 
 ]L coroner at the inquest held on Lord Penruddock. 
 No one appeared to be in fault. His lordship had returned 
 from the Mediterranean in his yacht, accompanied by Sir 
 George Walpole and a competent crew. They had been 
 cruising about the Welsh coast, and had finally determined to 
 visit Craigavon Castle. In making for the nearest port, they 
 had to pass the bays and the quicksands already alluded to, 
 which Lord Penruddock supposed he knew well, and with the 
 situation of which the pilot was also acquainted. Although 
 the wind had risen and the evening was advancing, his lordship 
 resolved to row to the Castle, and left the yacht, with two of 
 his crew, in the boat. Both Sir George and the pilot tried to 
 dissuade him from this ; but in vain. He said he had par- 
 ticular reasons for wishing to be at home without delay ; and 
 as there was no anchorage for the vessel in Ton Bay, and 
 danger if she made for it off the quicksands, he preferred 
 taking to the boat. The yacht and her boat therefore parted 
 company at about five o'clock in the afternoon. The yacht 
 was much tossed about by winds and waves, and made little 
 way before nightfall. Then, as we know, the beacon on the 
 Esgair was extinguished, and she was unable to pass that 
 point. The false fire kindled by the wreckers drew her 
 towards the quicksands, and hence the signals of distress heard 
 on land. Caradoc had put out the fire, and so saved her from 
 
 actually striking, but she was in the midst of rocks and shoals 
 
 299
 
 300 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 as dangerous as the sands. When Caradoc, Davy Jones, and 
 the others reached her, the pilot was in despair ; but Davy 
 managed to put her about, knowing, as Caradoc had said, the 
 coast as well by night as by day. So the Earl's purposes were 
 again defeated by Caradoc, and, had the Esgair light remained, 
 there would have been no peril to ship or boat. 
 
 The fate of the boat was made clear by the terrified sailors. 
 They had weathered the gale till evening deepened, and had 
 seen the beacon, which warned them from the quicksands. 
 But when it suddenly disappeared, and the gale increased, they 
 could do little but lie upon their oars. Lord Penruddock en- 
 couraged them by the assurance that they were surely drifting 
 towards the landing-place in Ton Bay ; but a light appeared in 
 the distance, and his lordship, who was acting as steersman, 
 moved the helm towards it. Soon afterwards the boat struck, 
 capsized, and the sailors knew no more of the hapless Lord 
 Penruddock. They could swim, he was at best a bad swimmer ; 
 but it was dark, and they lost sight of him altogether. They 
 managed to cling to the keel of the boat until day-dawn, when 
 they saw the yacht at no great distance. They had previously 
 heard her signals. Happily a sailor on the look-out saw them 
 also. Caradoc and his crew were on board the yacht, their 
 boat alongside ; so the boat was put out and saved them. All 
 saved, except the young lord ! Inquiries concerning him 
 resulted in Caradoc and the boatmen returning to Monad to 
 institute immediate search; while the yacht, having righted 
 her boat, cruised about in the vague hope of finding him. 
 The rest we already know. 
 
 " Drowned by the judgment of God ! " might have been the 
 coroner's verdict. But Caradoc Pennant, who had found the 
 body and helped to remove the Earl, was silent concerning 
 the awful facts that he and Daisy alone knew. Not even to 
 one another did they admit that the wretched Earl of Craigavon 
 had been the instrument in drowning his only son ; and when 
 it afterwards slowly and secretly evolved, as such things will, 
 it was through no word of theirs, but through hints of wreckers
 
 "FOUND DROWNED!" 301 
 
 and men who served, but did not love, the miserable lord of 
 the manor. 
 
 And where was he during the solemn, silent, melancholy 
 days that succeeded the event? He lay upon his bed, and 
 neither spoke nor moved. Caradoc, who, by tacit consent, 
 attended him, was sure that he was conscious ; but he noticed 
 no one. They kept that flickering flame of life alight in him 
 as best they could ; but by no agency of his. Whispering 
 passed around him concerning what was going on in the Castle, 
 but if he understood he made no sign. While his son lay in 
 state in a state-chamber, he lay in despair in his lonely Tower. 
 He no longer superintended the locking-up of doors, for all was 
 open in the haste and awe of the moment. If there was the 
 hush as of death in his Tower, there was the movement of life 
 where death really was ; for, as we said, the young lord lay in 
 state. And this meant that his mortal remains were placed on 
 a catafalque draped in white satin, in the centre of a state 
 apartment, also hung with white ; that tapers burnt, and 
 watchers watched, day and night, while people from far and 
 near passed and repassed the white, motionless form to see the 
 remains of him so lately endowed with the elasticity of youth 
 and health. 
 
 On the night preceding the funeral, Caradoc sat up with the 
 Earl. Believing that his lordship really slept, he sent his valet 
 to bed, and remained alone with him. Towards morning the 
 Earl grew restless, and, to his doctor's great relief, began to 
 mutter ; then slowly opened his eyes. Caradoc went to him. 
 
 " I will arise," he said. " Bring my clothes ; I shall attend 
 the funeral ! " 
 
 Caradoc was careful to express neither surprise nor dissent, 
 but simply obeyed. The valet, hearing voices, came in from 
 the next room, and they helped the Earl to leave his bed and 
 dress. He seemed quite himself — stern and unapproachable 
 as ever. 
 
 "Let me know the hour, and now leave me," he said. And 
 they did so.
 
 302 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 He was ready when summoned, and followed his dead son, 
 as chief mourner, alone ; for not even did Sir George Walpole 
 venture to approach him. Although no invitations had been 
 sent, the funeral procession reached from the Castle to the 
 parish church, and in the rear of the white-plumed hearse and 
 lonely father, were all the aristocracy of the county, and all the 
 tenantry of Craigavon. Every one was anxious to express 
 sympathy with a bereaved parent under circumstances so 
 supremely sad. 
 
 The vault in the chancel of the old church had been opened 
 to receive the heir of the Craigavons. The Earl stood over it, 
 rigid as a statue, stern as death. The burial service had no 
 meaning for him ; and he heard, without realizing, the hopeful 
 words, " I am the resurrection and the life ! " Yet no one 
 doubted that he felt, while all marvelled at his self-control. 
 Many a sob echoed through the sacred building from the im- 
 pressionable people who were assembled to witness the last rites ; 
 but neither sob nor tear moved the breast or bedewed the eyes 
 of him who had lost all that he held most dear, and who stood 
 silently contemplating his coffin. Brutus was not calmer or 
 sterner when he condemned his sons to die. 
 
 But, when all was over, the Earl did not leave the tomb. 
 The assembled multitude dispersed by degrees, carriages drove 
 off, the mounted tenantry rode softly away, even the peasantry 
 loitered to a distance to discuss the death and pageant, the 
 nodding hearse vanished, and at last only one carriage re- 
 mained near the church. This was drawn by four black horses, 
 caparisoned with white plumes, and awaited the sonless lord. 
 He stood almost alone in the chancel, under the painted 
 window, gazing down into the vault that now held the mortal 
 remains of his son. Beneath, mouldered the dust of his 
 ancestors ; around, their emblazoned monuments ; but his boy ! 
 his beloved ! He who should have represented the power, 
 wealth, antiquity of his race — he was hidden from his sight for 
 ever ! Who shall paint the agony of the last Lord of Craigavon ? 
 
 Mr. Tudor, in his white surplice, alone retained his place in
 
 "FOUND DROWNED!" 303 
 
 the chancel, but even he withdrew to a distance from the 
 stricken father. Sir George Walpole and Caradoc stood by the 
 old carved screen, near the pulpit and reading-desk, which 
 were draped in heavy black. An intense compassion filled 
 their hearts, yet they dared not approach him. After a long, 
 silent interval, however, Caradoc thought he saw him totter, 
 and went at once towards him. But for his support, the Earl 
 would have fallen into the vault. 
 
 " Let me entreat you to come away, my lord," he said. 
 
 A heavy sob was the response ; and they assisted the deso- 
 late man back to the mourning coach, into which, unasked, yet 
 unrepulsed, Caradoc Pennant followed him, with the whispered 
 words, "Forgive me, my lord, but you must not be alone!" 
 He was right, for the Earl relapsed into temporary uncon- 
 sciousness — perhaps the happiest state for him ; and Caradoc 
 deemed it his duty to remain by him until he recovered. 
 This his lordship did before he reached the Castle, and his 
 step was firm when he descended from the carriage. 
 
 " Thank you. I will summon you if I need you again," he 
 said to Caradoc ; and passed, like a grim ghost, through his 
 domestics. 
 
 They, clad in black, and really sorrowing for the gay young 
 master they had lost, watched him disappear into his private 
 tower, and heard him turn the accustomed key after him. For 
 some hours they crept to and from his closed door, listening. 
 It was a relief to them all to hear groans and footfalls within, 
 but no one ventured to knock. At last his bell rang, and 
 Morris answered it, for every one else held back. He was 
 pacing the room. 
 
 " Bring me the effects found in Lord Penruddock's pockets," 
 he said, his back to the door he had unlocked. 
 
 Morris went to Mr. Tudor, who, representing his brother 
 as steward, had taken up his temporary abode at the Castle. 
 What had been found on Lord Penruddock had been carefully 
 packed up and locked away. Mr. Tudor took it himself to 
 Lord Craigavon.
 
 304 THE rENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Can I be of service, my lord ? " he asked, hesitating, as he 
 placed the parcel in the Earl's hands. 
 
 " No, thank you," was the stern reply. 
 
 Before long the bell rang again. 
 
 " Send Dr. Pennant ! " was the command, given in a voice 
 strangely different from the Earl's. 
 
 " He has returned home, my lord," was the reply. 
 
 " Fetch him," said the Earl, closing the door. 
 
 It was some time before Caradoc could be found, but when 
 the messenger reached him he hastened to the Castle. The 
 Earl admitted him at once, by an imperative " Come in ! " 
 His lordship was seated before a table, on which were out- 
 spread a gold watch and chain, a diamond ring, a purse, a 
 handkerchief, a few letters and papers, and a book. The latter 
 was open beneath his face, covered by both hands. Caradoc 
 stood awhile, in sympathetic silence, opposite. At first he 
 thought the Earl's natural avarice had returned ; but the purse 
 was closed, and the valuables pushed aside. The book and 
 papers were the points of interest. He spoke at last in a voice 
 so husky that the words were scarcely audible, and Caradoc 
 did not understand him. Then he pointed with his finger to 
 the title-page of the book on which his eyes were fixed. 
 
 " Who — wrote — that ? " he asked slowly, and with diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 Caradoc moved, and glanced over his shoulder He saw, to 
 his surprise, the words, " Daisy Pennant," written in Daisy's clear 
 roundhand, above the printed title — " Holy Bible." 
 
 "It is my sister's writing, my lord," he replied, his voice 
 slightly changing with not unnatural emotion. 
 
 " You — mean — the foundling ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " Bring her — to me. Now. At once." 
 
 " She may not like to come, my lord," said Caradoc, hesitat- 
 ing. " Sir George Walpole asks to see you, and " 
 
 " I will not see him. I cannot have him here. Tell the 
 foundling I will not harm her. Bid her forget " A sob
 
 "FOUND DROWNED!' 30$ 
 
 choked the Earl's voice. " Go ; ask her ! " he added, with the 
 tremulous eagerness of an appeal. 
 
 " I will, my lord. But may I not help you— stay with you ? " 
 returned Caradoc, touched by the piteous sob from this stern, 
 immovable man. 
 
 " Thank you ; no ! Stay— on— at— the farm, at present. I 
 may — need you." 
 
 Caradoc withdrew, scarcely understanding what was meant. 
 It was Michaelmas-day ; but the death and funeral of Lord 
 Penruddock had stayed the intended move from Brynhafod — 
 had, indeed, paralysed the neighbourhood. He sought Mr. 
 Tudor, and repeated the Earl's words. Mr. Tudor entreated 
 him to advise his father not to leave the farm. Sir Geonre 
 
 O 
 
 Walpole was with him, and Caradoc told him that the Earl 
 seemed to dread an interview with him. Sir George imme- 
 diately expressed his resolution to leave the Castle, and asked 
 Caradoc abruptly if he thought his father and mother would 
 give him a lodging for a few days, while he settled his future 
 plans. 
 
 " I should wish to be near Lord Craigavon, in case of his 
 needing me," he said ; " but I will not remain here. I hear 
 your house is a refuge for the destitute, and, as I have no 
 settled home just now, I am of that class. I shall then, per- 
 haps, see your friend Ap Adam, and I can give Lady Mona 
 news of her father. She writes to me in great distress at her 
 brother's death." 
 
 Caradoc said that Brynhafod was in confusion, owing to the 
 contemplated move, but that he was sure his mother would 
 manage to provide a bed for him. 
 
 " I have been accustomed to rough it, and any kind of 
 shake-down will do," replied Sir George. " I cannot leave an 
 old friend in such a wretched plight ; yet I know him too well 
 to force myself upon him." 
 
 Sir George accompanied Caradoc to Brynhafod, and was 
 received with the unaffected hospitality for which the Pennants 
 were noted. They were seated at their early evening meal, 
 
 X
 
 306 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the Master alone being absent. The solemn scenes of the 
 past week had worked a change for the better in David 
 Pennant, whose morose anger towards the Earl had merged 
 into a tender pity. He had forgotten his own wrongs, and his 
 continual cry was, "If only I could do something for his 
 lordship ! " and the power to receive Sir George seemed to him 
 that " something." 
 
 When Caradoc told him and the others what the Earl had 
 said touching their continuing at the farm for the present, the 
 hush of a deep thankfulness fell on all; and when this intelli- 
 gence was followed by his lordship's wish to see Daisy — owing 
 apparently to her Bible and her name — their surprise and 
 emotion were heightened. An expression of awe had been 
 left on Daisy's face by the sight she had seen on the beach ; 
 and a terror of the Earl had sunk into her heart ever since 
 their encounter on the cliff, increased, if possible, by his dread 
 lantern. When she heard that he wished to see her, she 
 turned pale and trembled ; and no one but Caradoc fully 
 understood why. 
 
 "Thou art not afraid, my Eye of Day?" said old Mr. Pen- 
 nant. " Maybe thou and thy Bible may comfort his lordship, 
 as I pray you may both have comforted his son : for the 
 Holy Word was his companion when he ' fell into deep 
 waters.'" 
 
 "And a holy peace was on his countenance as he slept the 
 sleep of death," remarked Sir George, moving towards her, 
 3nd standing at the back of her chair. " I think I have seen 
 him reading your Book more than once, though he closed and 
 concealed it when I drew near." 
 
 Daisy glanced up at Sir George, and tears were in her eyes. 
 This " hero of a hundred fights " felt that his were not dry. 
 He passed one hand before them, and laid the other on the 
 head of the young girl, who had strangely impressed him. 
 There was a momentary silence, while all present turned 
 involuntarily towards them ; then Daisy rose slowly, still 
 looking white and fearful, and said,
 
 "FOUND DROWNED!" 307 
 
 "If you will be with me, Carad, I will go to his lordship; 
 but I know not what I shall say." 
 
 "The Lord will give thee a mouth and wisdom, child; and 
 may His grace be sufficient for thee ! " said old Mr. Pennant. 
 
 So Daisy accompanied Caradoc, through the evening mists, 
 back to the Castle.
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 REMORSE. 
 
 C^ARADOC found the Earl as he had left him — his elbows 
 on the table, his forehead covered by his hands, and 
 the Bible before him. But the Sacred Volume was opened at 
 the centre, and not at the frontispiece. When his lordship 
 became conscious of Daisy's presence, he glanced up at her, 
 and motioned Caradoc away. She turned instinctively to her 
 protector ; but Lord Craigavon said, in a low, hollow voice, 
 
 " You are safe. Our struggle is over." 
 
 And she replied — 
 
 " I am not afraid, Carad ; leave me with his lordship." 
 
 "I shall be in the adjoining room," whispered Caradoc; 
 and left them together. 
 
 Daisy stood before the Earl with folded arms. She was still 
 pale and awe-struck, but calm and self-possessed. 
 
 "Tell me how my son gained possession of this Book," he 
 said, after a long pause, and without looking at her. 
 
 " He came to our house, my lord, and, before departing, 
 asked me to give him something that belonged to me. I gave 
 him that Bible, forgetting that my name was written in it." 
 
 " What did he say in return for your gift ? " 
 
 " That he would read it for my sake ; and I was so bold as 
 to beg his lordship to read it for his own, because it was tht 
 Word of God. And I am told that he was seen reading it 
 more than once. I pray that he may have been comforted 
 and supported by it." 
 
 Daisy's voice faltered, and the Earl groaned.
 
 REMORSE. 309 
 
 " Are these your marks ? " he asked, removing one hand 
 from his eyes, and pointing to the page before him, upon 
 which fell the light from a lamp. 
 
 "No, my lord," she replied, glancing down upon the Bible, 
 and perceiving that a verse here and there was lined in the 
 fourteenth chapter of St. John. 
 
 "A strange love-token!" muttered the Earl. 
 
 " It was no love-token, my lord. If my Lord Penruddock 
 honoured me by some slight preference, neither by word nor 
 deed did I encourage him. It was, and still is, a sore grief to 
 me; all the sorer because it angered your lordship against 
 me. " 
 
 "You entrapped and desired to wed him." 
 
 "Not so, my lord. I told him that even with your consent 
 I could not marry him. We were suited neither by rank nor 
 training ; a.id indeed, my lord, I did not love him, though he 
 was ever courteous and honourable to me." 
 
 There was a sympathetic tone in Daisy's clear voice that 
 made the Earl once more glance up. The expression of his 
 face was so painful that it drew her nearer to him, and she 
 said, as if impelled by some uncontrollable feeling, 
 
 "Oh ! my lord, if only you knew how our hearts ache for 
 you, and how we pray for you day and night ! " 
 
 " We ! Who ? " groaned the Earl. 
 
 : ' Grandfather and father, and all at the farm, my lord. We 
 ask God to console you in your sorrow, since no one else 
 can " 
 
 Lord Craigavon's head sank lower and lower, and Daisy 
 fancied she saw a tear fall on the damp page of the open 
 Bible. He was suddenly awakened to a consciousness that 
 the very people he had been so long seeking to injure and 
 expel from his property, had not only borne him and his dead 
 son to the Castle, and tended them there, but were actually 
 praying for him still. The girl whom he had rendered friend- 
 less and homeless, spoke to him with a sympathy that he 
 could not misunderstand; she who knew his guilt, and the
 
 310 THE TENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 terrible injury he had done to her and others in his avarice, 
 was by his side, compassionating his woe. In spite of his 
 crimes, they pitied him ! The proud, unapproachable man 
 was touched, and his human heart softened. He leaned his 
 head on the Word of God, and burst into tears. 
 
 Daisy stole nearer to him, and clasping her hands, prayed 
 for him. She knew that it was about the time of family 
 worship at the farm, and that her friends there would also ask 
 for him pardon and peace. The drear silence of the Tower 
 was broken by its master's sobs and groans, which had uncon- 
 trollably burst their bounds, in spite of Daisy's presence. 
 Caradoc, hearing, crept in ; but seeing the bowed head of the 
 stricken lord, and the upturned eyes of the young girl, silently 
 praying, returned to his place, and joined his petitions to hers. 
 He believed that his task as physician of the body was done 
 now that the grief and remorse had found an outlet, and he 
 asked the Great Physician of the soul to minister instead. 
 
 Daisy could not tell how long she stood by the Earl, 
 dreading to move, lest she should break in upon his agony. 
 But she was conscious that the night deepened without, that 
 the Castle clock struck nine, that a melancholy owl hooted, 
 and that the winds and waves seemed to lament together. 
 The lamp burnt dimly, casting a dull glare on the bowed head, 
 and just flickering on the diamond and the gold which lay 
 beneath it ; while Daisy was partly in shadow, and the ancient 
 room and quaint furniture were almost in obscurity. 
 
 At last a thought darted, like an electric message, through 
 Daisy's mind. "Had it flashed there from Heaven?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Doubting, trembling, she delivered it. 
 
 " The Lady Mona is in sore distress, and pines to see your 
 lordship," she said, low and slow, stooping over the Earl. 
 
 He started as if an electric shock had struck him, but made 
 no response. He had possibly forgotten this daughter, who 
 had ever been second to his son. But with her name returned 
 the memory of the Countess, also swept into forgetfulness by
 
 REMORSE. 311 
 
 the terrible waves of sin and grief. Daisy began to feel that 
 she was no longer needed, and moved, as if about to leave. 
 This aroused the Earl, and, controlling his emotion, he raised 
 his head, and finally leaned back in his chair, fixing his eyes, 
 now softened by tears, on her. But they were instantly cast 
 down. The grand figure and lovely face served only to prick 
 his dulled yet awakening conscience. 
 
 "It is late. We had, perhaps, better return home, my lord," 
 she said, naturally. 
 
 "Are you afraid? " he asked, sternness coming back. 
 " No ; I have no fear. I will remain if your lordship wills," 
 she replied. 
 
 "Who told you of my daughter? And how had you the 
 courage to name her?" he asked, hesitating strangely. 
 
 "Sir George Walpole and Miss Manent, my lord. And I 
 think God gave me courage," she rejoined. 
 
 " Let her come," he said, and again leaned his head on his 
 hand, over the open Bible. 
 
 "Good night, my lord. Good-bye!" said Daisy, fearing 
 lest he should repent this permission. 
 
 "Good-bye," he repeated slowly; then, as if attacked by 
 some inward terror, started back and cried, " You can be 
 
 secret? You can " he hesitated. 
 
 "Forgive, as 1 hope to be forgiven !" she supplied, with a 
 solemn and touching dignity. " No word of the past shall be 
 breathed by me, or by my brother Carad ; and no one else 
 knows." 
 
 As if to seal this promise she held out her hand. The Earl 
 did not take it, and fearing that she had presumed, she was 
 about to withdraw it, when he seized, and pressed it with the 
 words, "Soiled — clean !" 
 
 Then he sank back in his chair, and she, beckoning Caradoc, 
 left him to his remorse and to God.
 
 Y 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 RECONCILIATION. 
 
 T OU shall not escape me again, Adam Perceval ! " cried 
 Sir George Walpole, at the top of his voice. 
 
 He had left the inmates of Brynhafod preparing for their 
 Harvest Home, and had come to look at the now famous 
 Esgair. He was sure that the man who nearly met him on the 
 cliff-path, but who turned at sight of him, was our friend Ap 
 Adam. He accordingly ran after him until he caught him. 
 They were face to face at last. 
 
 " It is cowardly and unhandsome to dog a man's steps till 
 you seize him like a bloodhound ! " said Ap Adam, finding 
 concealment no longer of use. " What can the great General 
 Sir George Walpole want with me ? " 
 
 " Your old friendship and your past history," replied Sir 
 George, letting Ap Adam go, and looking at him kindly. 
 
 " The one you forfeited long ago ; the other is not worth 
 hearing," said the Master, coldly, withdrawing to a distance. 
 
 " Oh, Perceval ! That sad jealousy and distrust should Le 
 buried with her we both loved," said Sir George, gravely. 
 " Death, at least, should end the hot-headed quarrels of 
 youth." 
 
 " Death ! Is she dead ? " exclaimed the Master, quickly. 
 
 "Yes; did you not know it?" replied Sir George, more 
 calmly than his questioner. 
 
 What was an old, if cherished, sonow to Sir George 
 Walpole, was a new and sudden grief to Ap Adam. They had 
 
 been friends in youth, and through a long chain of circum- 
 
 312
 
 " Ran full speed after him." 
 
 [Page 312.
 
 RECONCILIATION. 313 
 
 stances too intricate to unwind here, they had quarreled ; and, 
 when too late, Sir George discovered that Ap Adam had loved 
 the lady he had married. They had never met since that 
 marriage ; and Sir George's long career in India had facilitated 
 Ap Adam's estrangement ; for, although he had heard of the 
 renowned General by report, no news of him had ever reached 
 Sir George. 
 
 "Who told you that I loved her?" asked the Master, after 
 a long pause, during which he subdued his emotion. 
 
 " She told me, when too late ; and I think she loved you 
 best," replied Sir George. " But the past is past ; and she was 
 a good wife to me during our short time together." 
 
 These two men, both over the meridian of life, grew young 
 again at these recollections. The Master's face flushed, and 
 tears filled his eyes ; while the soldier's heart beat fast at the 
 painful admission he had made. Neither spoke for a time ; 
 then Ap Adam held out his hand, and said, " You are noble 
 as ever, George Walpole ; far nobler than I." 
 
 Sir George grasped the offered hand, and while still holding 
 it, changed the subject, as if fearing that some unpleasant re- 
 membrance might jar the reconciliation. They did not return 
 to it again, but avoided it, as one sometimes does what is 
 uppermost. 
 
 " If I owned this property I would build a lighthouse on that 
 point," exclaimed Sir George, abruptly, pointing to the Cader- 
 y- Witch. 
 
 " So would I," rejoined the Master ; and they stood some 
 minutes, side by side, gazing at the back of the Cader as if 
 their whole souls were in it, and not, as they actually were, in 
 the memories of the past. 
 
 At last they turned, and walked slowly together up the 
 mountain. 
 
 " Have you any reason for concealment ? or may we return 
 as old friends to the farm ? " asked Sir George, when they 
 paused to take breath and admire the view. 
 
 "Sit down here, and I will tell you," was the reply.
 
 314 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 They seated themselves on the turf, while the Master told 
 his story. 
 
 " After our quarrel," he began, "and when you had returned 
 to India, I did not much care what became of me. Having 
 neither relations nor friends, and but little money, I threw up 
 doctoring, as I had before done law, and took to writing. No 
 publisher would undertake my books, because they were either 
 too learned, too dry, too quaint, too real, or too something or 
 other. So writing followed physic and law. You know my 
 craze for geology and antiquities. I determined to take a turn 
 at them, having neither inclination, nor money, nor interest, 
 when you left, for anything else. I considered myself badly 
 treated by the world, so I thought 1 would leave it, and earn 
 my daily bread by the sweat of my brow, while I hammered at 
 the rocks and explored the old castles that came in my way. 
 This brought me into Wales, a country rich in the lore I love 
 best. I began at once to collect materials for a great work on 
 the strata, flora, and other physical peculiarities of the country, 
 which I have nearly completed." 
 
 " Nearly !" here interrupted the General. "One work in a 
 dozen years, and not finished yet ! " . 
 
 "And, when finished, never likely to see the light," returned 
 the Master, sadly. 
 
 "It shall, if money can do it! Go on," cried Sir George, 
 energetically, and the Master continued : 
 
 "Money! Money! It is all money, from the wretched 
 Earl of Craigavon to the distinguished General Walpole. I 
 have laboured for love, and seen the fruit of my labours. If 
 my great work die with me, my children will survive me." 
 
 " You are richer than I, after all," sighed Sir George. 
 
 "Well ! My researches and my wanderings brought me to 
 this neighbourhood, and I fell in with Carad, then a boy. I 
 found him after my own heart, and attached myself to him. I 
 almost forget how it came about, but for love of him, and 
 because I began to want an object in life, I turned school- 
 master. They asked me for my name, and as Perceval was
 
 RECONCILIATION. 315 
 
 high-sounding, and as I was desirous to end my days in 
 obscurity, I gave them my baptismal distinctive, adding there- 
 to the Welsh Ap, or Son — and as my father's name was also 
 Adam, I neither belied him nor myself. 
 
 Here Sir George laughed heartily, and declared that years 
 had not improved his old friend. 
 
 "There you are mistaken," rejoined the Master. "They, 
 and kindly Christian people, have wrought a great change in 
 me, I hope. I have not lived at Brynhafod in vain. I believe 
 the old man's advice would even have led me to seek you out 
 after you came to the farm, had you not been visiting Lord 
 Craigavon. I thought you must be changed, indeed, if you 
 could make him your friend, miser and wrecker that he is ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Sir George. 
 
 " More than I dare to express," replied the Master. 
 
 This led to a discussion of the late events, and Sir George 
 was able to give the Master some details with which he was 
 unacquainted, owing to his absence from Brynhafod since 
 Lord Penruddock's death. He said frankly that he had 
 absented himself because he had heard that Sir George was 
 again in the country. He was, however, interested to hear of 
 Daisy's visit to the Castle, and what little h id transpired of the 
 Earl's subsequent history. 
 
 "A whole month has elapsed," said Sir George, "and I am 
 still dawdling about in the hope of being of some service to 
 Lord Craigavon. But he has seen no one since your Daisy's 
 visit. I have no doubt that Penruddock was in love with her, 
 and I fancy the Earl knew it. Your Vicar tells us that he 
 keeps himself shut up in his Tower, vacating one room when a 
 servant comes to arrange it, and so avoiding intercourse with 
 every one. His meals are laid in the eastern apartments 
 while he is in the western ; and he appears to wander from 
 chamber to chamber, in order to avoid contact with his fellows. 
 But he does not lock himself in, or interest himself in his 
 affairs." 
 
 " That will come soon enough," interrupted the Master.
 
 316 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " I have written to summon his daughter, by his permission, 
 given to -Daisy,'' continued Sir George; "and when Lady 
 Mona arrives I expect I shall go to the Castle. The Countess 
 was a distant connection of mine, and I was with her when the 
 shock of Lady Mona's elopement caused her death. I feel a 
 natural interest in the survivors, if only on account of those 
 who are gone. There were the makings of a fine character in 
 Penruddock." 
 
 " As well, then, that he was taken before they were quite 
 destroyed," said the Master. 
 
 Thus talking, the re-united friends sauntered together to 
 Brynhafod, where they found great excitement, caused by the 
 Harvest Home. The labourers, who had helped to save he 
 golden grain, were assembled in the great farm kitchen, 
 together with their families. A substantial supper was prepared 
 for them, and they were seated at long tables, ready to 
 enjoy it. Old Mr. Pennant had just said grace, David and 
 his wife had begun to carve, and Michael, Daisy, and Marget 
 to help, when Sir George and the Master entered, arm-in-arm. 
 They met Daisy first. 
 
 '' I have caught him at last, and he is my very friend, Adam 
 Perceval," said Sir George, as Daisy glanced from one to 
 the other inquiringly. 
 
 The Master shook hands with her hastily, then, seizing a 
 huge knife and fork, began to carve a round of beef that he 
 saw at no great distance. An irrepressible hurrah greeted him 
 for he was a favourite, and had done many a good turn to 
 every individual gathered to the feast. When Daisy brought 
 him a plate to fill, he said to her aside, 
 
 " We knew one another years ago, Sir George and I ; " then 
 added, with much earnestness, " What makes you look so ill, 
 Daisy ? " 
 
 " I am not ill," she replied, carrying her well-plenished plate 
 to a child, and helping its mother to cut up the meat. 
 
 Yet she was not well. She had never been quite herself 
 since that last interview with the Earl. Perhaps Caradoc may
 
 RECONCILIATION. 317 
 
 have also had something to do with it, for, although he was 
 kind, he was distant. She felt intuitively that her name, 
 written on a book presented by her to one who avowed himself 
 her lover, must appear strange to him, and she had not the 
 courage to explain it. She had, besides, seen little of him. He 
 had vacated his bedroom for Sir George Walpole, the " best 
 room " having been dismantled, preparatory to the general 
 move, and had slept in the house taken in the town. His 
 professional calls also rapidly increased, and hence he had 
 not been much at home during Sir George's stay. 
 
 He had promised to be at the Harvest Home, however, and 
 Daisy was on the look-out for him. But, truth to tell, he had 
 been jealous of that " Daisy Pennant," written on the fly-leaf 
 of the Bible ; for whether he absented himself or not, Daisy 
 was ever in his mind — in thought by day, in dreams by night. 
 
 When he arrived at last, instead of avoiding her, he went up 
 to her at once, with the words, " Daisy, Mr. Tudor writes to 
 me to say that Lady Mona is at the Castle, and wishes to see 
 you. She is not well, and I am also summoned. I will go at 
 once. Perhaps to-morrow will be soon enough for you." 
 
 "I dread the Castle, Carad," said Daisy, sadness in her 
 face. " You will come back for the Harvest Home ? It may 
 be OUr last here ; and the Master has come with Sir George, 
 and they are friends after all. Poor Lady Mona ! It seems 
 unkind ; and oh ! I would give much to see her ! But the 
 tragedy and the Castle gloom weigh down my spirit." 
 
 Caradoc looked into her face, and remarked its varying 
 colour, and the strained expression of her eyes. He led her 
 quietly out of the crowded kitchen, and into the old school- 
 room hard by. All were so busily occupied that no one saw 
 them, save Michael. 
 
 " Sit down in the Master's chair, Daisy, while I doctor you," 
 said Caradoc, playfully. " I have never yet had that 
 honour, and shall administer my first dose, proud of a new 
 patient." 
 
 He took a bottle from his shelf, and gave her a little salt
 
 3l8 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 volatile, which she swallowed obediently, then seated himself 
 on the long form. 
 
 " You are master, I scholar, now," he said, seeing that her 
 eyes resumed their natural expression. " It brings back the 
 old times, Daisy, when you made us play at school ; and 
 Michael was always the best boy." 
 
 "And you the cleverest," returned Daisy, smiling. "I wish 
 we had been always children, and that you had never left us. 
 We have had so much sorrow of late, that I almost start at a 
 rustling leaf." 
 
 "The terror has been worse for you than our personal trials," 
 replied Caradoc. "Were you not very courageous, you could 
 not have passed through those encounters with the unfortunate 
 Earl as you did." 
 
 " But you were with me, and I did not mind, Carad," she 
 rejoined, innocently. "You are so brave and strong." 
 
 " I wish I were, Daisy," he said, glancing at her, and restrain- 
 ing an impulse to tell her how gladly he would be still stronger 
 and braver for her sake. 
 
 But it was always thus. No sooner did they relapse into the 
 manners natural to them, and grew easy, as of old, than some 
 sudden thought, either of Michael or Lord Penruddock, came 
 to chill Caradoc's returning freedom, and make him stiff again. 
 Any formality checked Daisy's natural manners and flow of 
 spirits, and thus they were estranged, she knew not why. 
 
 " You arc better now," he said, watching while the colour 
 tinged her cheeks, and light gleamed in her eyes. " If you will 
 keep quiet until I return, 1 will make haste back. Stay here, 
 where no one will seek you, and I will bring you news of the 
 Earl and Lady Mona. You have been over-wrought, dear 
 Daisy." 
 
 " I will, Carad," she replied, the faint colour deepening. 
 
 He left her alone in the Master's old arm-chair. She sighed 
 as she watched him depart, but there was a smile on her half- 
 parted lips. Leaning back, and folding her hands on her lap, 
 she tried to think ; but her mind was exhausted by late
 
 RECONCILIATION. 319 
 
 emotional events, and the uncertain state of her home. Con- 
 fused visions of Caradoc, Sir George Walpole, the Master, Lady 
 Mona, and the Earl chased away thought, and she insensibly 
 fell asleep. She slept so heavily that she did not hear the door 
 open, somewhat roughly, or see one of her visions come in. It 
 was Sir George, who, missing her, had entered the first 
 available room in search of her. He hurried up to her, think- 
 ing she was ill ; but, perceiving that she slept, he took Caradoc's 
 seat, and watched her. He could scarcely have looked upon 
 a fairer or statelier picture. It was, perhaps, heightened by 
 the quaint Welsh costume, and still quainter surroundings ; 
 and the imagination of the old soldier wandered through the 
 school and farm life that had combined to form so well-educated, 
 simple, healthful, and innocent a child of nature. He compared 
 her with Lady Mona, and others whom he knew, and sighed 
 to think how the world and bad example might sully the purity 
 of youth ; while the sight of natural objects, holy living, and 
 simplicity could thus beautify, and even sanctify it. 
 
 "I will settle near them, and spend my money amongst the 
 poor," he thought. " Adam Perceval can live with me, and 
 these young people can cheer our old age. Why has one man 
 children, while another is deprived of them? And I, who 
 dearly love the young ! Bless her ! How calmly and inno- 
 cently she sleeps ! " 
 
 Daisy little thought how intently and lovingly she was 
 watched, or by whom. She was still sleeping, when Caradoc 
 returned, and found Sir George with her. At first he felt an 
 angry jealousy of the interloper ; but the soldier's imperative 
 " Hush ! " and therewith a certain air of command, dispelled it. 
 He did not, however, choose that Daisy should be subjected to 
 longer surveillance ; so he aroused her by a light touch, and 
 by the utterance of her name. But he, too, thought how fair 
 she was in sleep. 
 
 She started and blushed at being so surprised ; but Caradoc 
 at once engaged her attention and Sir George's by telling them 
 that Lady Mona had inquired for both, and wished to see them.
 
 320 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Her ladyship is only nervous," he said. " Miss Manent is 
 with her, and Morris, as of old ; but she has not yet seen the 
 Earl, who keeps resolutely to himself. Her feelings will not 
 kill her, though she is grieved for her brother's death. I 
 suppose she is heiress now he is gone, and thinks of her inherit- 
 ance ; but Craigavon is entailed on the male line, and the 
 Earl is the only masculine representative of the family, so he 
 can do what he likes with the property. I always thought Lady 
 Mona selfish." 
 
 "She has been so unnaturally brought up," remarked Sir 
 George ; adding, as he glanced at Daisy — " All young' people 
 are not trained in pure morals and pure air."
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE EARL'S HEIRESS. 
 
 THE Harvest Home went off unusually well, and when it 
 was known that Sir George Walpole was a friend of the 
 Master's, he was loudly cheered, and made a long speech in 
 return, translated into Welsh by Caradoc. He had picked up 
 a few Welsh words, which he used with effect, and his kindly 
 listeners applauded with genuine politeness. He joined 
 in the games that succeeded the feast, and made himself so 
 much at home that the peasants could only wish that the Earl 
 were like the Baronet. David Pennant had in part recovered 
 his spirits ; and when Big Ben rose to express the general hope 
 that so long as Brynhafod stood, the Pennants might stand 
 and dwell therein, he seconded it, but added that the blow 
 which had fallen upon the Earl had been a warning to him not 
 to set his heart on this world. When old Mr. Pennant, 
 according to his time-honoured custom, concluded the evening 
 by giving out a harvest hymn, and Daisy led it, feelings of 
 gratitude and resignation to the Divine will were uppermost. 
 While all prayed that the dreaded change and separations 
 might be averted, they sought to feel submissive to higher 
 direction, and a calm, partly mournful, partly happy, fell on 
 the large assembly. Many of the Monad people had crept in, 
 and Michael and Daisy saw, with satisfaction, that they 
 behaved well, and joined in the singing. Their labours had 
 not been in vain. 
 
 Early the following morning Daisy went alone to the Castle. 
 It seemed strange to her to be ushered again into Lady 
 Mona's old rooms, and to see her reclining, as usual, on a 
 
 32* y
 
 322 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 sofa. Miss Manent was with her, and, but for the mourning 
 dress, both looked much as in former days ; only Miss 
 Manent's face was brighter, her ladyship's a shade sadder. 
 The latter shook hands with Daisy, and seemed pleased to see 
 her again. She began to speak on indifferent subjects, and 
 Daisy wondered at her calmness, remembering their parting, 
 her mother and brother's subsequent death, and the Earl's 
 state. By degrees, however, she turned the conversation to 
 her brother, and asked Daisy, with a shudder, to give her an 
 account of what she had witnessed. It was, in fact, for this 
 that she had sent for her. Daisy could never think of the 
 drowned lord without terror, and the request brought the 
 nervous tension back to her eyes. She complied with it, 
 nevertheless, and related, as calmly as she could, what she had 
 seen on the beach. Lady Mona was affected, though she 
 made a great effort at composure. Then her ladyship inquired 
 concerning Daisy's interview with her father. This was more 
 difficult to tell, and Daisy glanced at Miss Manent, who 
 discreetly left the room. She confined herself to the episode 
 of the Bible she had given to Lord Penruddock, and the Earl's 
 desire to know who had written her name in it. She did not 
 allude to their previous tumultuous encounters, nor to Lord 
 Penruddock's attachment to herself. When she had ended, 
 Lady Mona inquired to what influence she owed her own 
 summons to the Castle ? Daisy replied that, seeing the Earl 
 bowed down with sorrow, she had ventured to speak her lady- 
 ship's name. 
 
 " What did the Earl say ? " asked Lady Mona. 
 
 " He said, ' Let her come ! ' " replied Daisy. 
 
 " And now he will not see me," returned Lady Mona. 
 
 " His lordship is in the slough of despond, and, perhaps, if 
 your ladyship went to him uncalled, you might gently draw 
 him out of it," said Daisy, so simply that Lady Mona smiled. 
 
 " He is not one to be helped unasked," she said ; "and you 
 know I have offended him. Still I am his heiress, and he 
 must consider me ! "
 
 THE EARL'S HEIRESS. 323 
 
 Daisy now understood what Carad had meant by Lady 
 Mona's selfishness, but she neither understood nor liked the 
 tone of her last words. She replied, however, quite naturally, 
 
 " I think he would love you if you were kind and gentle 
 with him." 
 
 Lady Mona glanced at Daisy, but the girl's looks and 
 thoughts were away with the sinful, solitary Earl. A long 
 silence ensued, during which Lady Mona continued to look at 
 Daisy, in whose eyes she saw a tear. Her own softened, and 
 a throng of recollections suddenly crowded her mind. She 
 remembered that the Earl had disliked Daisy from the very 
 day that she had been cast upon the beach ; and yet the 
 foundling wept for him. 
 
 " Do you recollect your first visit to the Castle, Daisy ? " she 
 asked abruptly. 
 
 " I think not, my lady," replied Daisy, roused from her 
 reverie. 
 
 " I do ; but I am older than you ; and I do not forget that 
 you lost a locket. Let us ask Miss Manent about it." 
 
 As Lady Mona rose to recall Miss Manent, her face flushed, 
 and her manner changed. Something had suddenly troubled 
 her, apart, seemingly, from personal grief, for she asked Miss 
 Manent, hurriedly, the particulars of Daisy's first visit to the 
 Castle. Miss Manent detailed them. Every minute circum- 
 stance was stamped upon her memory, since that day had 
 been the one of her introduction to Brynhafod, and her dawn 
 of love for Mr. Tudor. She said that she had herself carefully 
 searched every corner of the rooms in which Daisy had been 
 for the missing locket, and had questioned her concerning it, 
 but in vain. 
 
 " Was any one suspected of stealing it ? " asked Lady Mona. 
 
 " Oh ! no, Lady Mona," replied Miss Manent, horrified at 
 the idea. 
 
 "Was anything else saved that would prove your parent- 
 age ? " asked Lady Mona. 
 
 "Only my battered doll," replied Daisy, smiling; ''and she
 
 324 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 would be a poor referee. But I am not likely to need one. 
 Indeed, they seem to think my real parents were drowned, 
 
 an( j " here a vision of Lady Mona's father checked her 
 
 further speech, for had he not been the instrument of their 
 destruction ? 
 
 " I will have a search, now that the Castle is at my com- 
 mand," said Lady Mona, half proudly, half hurriedly. " I 
 should like to return to you the favour you have so strangely 
 done me. Though I cannot yet understand how you prevailed 
 on Lord Craigavon to permit my return." 
 
 The words, " the Castle at my command," struck both Miss 
 Manent and Daisy as peculiar, knowing, as they did, that no one 
 had ever given a command there but the Earl. Nevertheless, 
 strange as it may seem, Lady Mona was suddenly its mistress. 
 Mr. Tudor gladly resigned to her his assumed authority, and 
 the Earl gave no sign of interest in any outward thing. Doors 
 were unlocked, people came and went, and the gloomy place 
 seemed to have found a new spring of life. But every one said 
 that his lordship would require a strict reckoning when he 
 once more came forth from his Tower. 
 
 Lady Mona's object was to maintain the power with which 
 she found herself unexpectedly endowed, and to ensure her 
 husband's presence at the Castle as well as her own. This 
 might be achieved if the Earl continued his present life ; 
 and she not unnaturally speculated on the possibility of 
 Captain Everard Soames and herself reigning while her 
 father abdicated. They had been sufficiently happy during 
 their short term of married life ; and, but for the death 
 of the Countess, Lady Mona would have had little save 
 poverty to complain of. Although she did not attribute her 
 mother's death to her own elopement, she had yet mourned 
 for her sincerely. Indeed, it was scarcely attributable to that 
 cause, though doubtless accelerated by it ; for the Countess 
 had held to life, at best, by a very frail thread. 
 
 When Lady Mona arrived at the Castle, she had found 
 Morris ready to wait upon her ; and it was to this faithful
 
 THE EARL'S HEIRESS. 325 
 
 Abigail that she was indebted for the intelligence that the Earl 
 had spoken to no one since his son's death but Caradoc and 
 Daisy. Hence it was that she had summoned them, and 
 hence the searching questions she continued to put to Daisy. 
 
 Daisy had, however, little more to tell, and Caradoc had 
 told still less when similarly interrogated the previous evening ; 
 for both were careful to screen the Earl from the investigations 
 of his daughter. When Lady Mona found that she could gain 
 no further information from Daisy, she turned her attention to 
 Miss Manent ; for she had not lost the insatiable curiosity of 
 her girlhood. She inquired concerning Miss Manent's inter- 
 view with the Earl after her elopement, and made lame excuses 
 for her own conduct. She condescended to assure Miss 
 Manent that Lady Thomas had as good as promised to engage 
 her as governess, and that she was grieved to find that she had 
 not fulfilled her engagement. This was not, however, true, 
 since only a provisional promise had been given. 
 
 " It was all for the best, dear Lady Mona," said gentle Miss 
 Manent. " Had I gone to Bias I should not have spent that 
 happy time at Brynhafod, and not have made the kind new 
 friends I have found at Llanpeter Rectory. I am quite at 
 home there, and my pupils, I think, really love me." 
 
 "And some one else also, I hear," returned Lady Mona, half 
 sarcastically. " When is the wedding to take place? " 
 
 " That seems to depend upon the Earl," replied Miss Manent, 
 blushing. 
 
 " Then you will die an old maid, for his lordship disapproves 
 of matrimony ; Daisy and I have experienced that," said Lady 
 Mona, casting a searching glance at Daisy ; then changing he r 
 tone as she recollected her brother. " But I am married, and 
 perhaps you may be in the course of years. And what of you, 
 Daisy ? Morris says that old Sir George Walpole has located 
 himself at your farm on your account." 
 
 " Your ladyship forgets who and what I am, and wherefore 
 you sent for me ! " said Daisy, with dignity. " Perhaps, if you 
 have no further need of me, I may go."
 
 326 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 "A few words more, Daisy," said Lady Mona, seriously. 
 " I do not forget our parting at the rock gate, nor the comfort 
 you were to me when I had no other. I hope you will settle 
 at the farm, so that I may be of use to you by-and-by, when I 
 am established here. I am glad you did not accompany me to 
 London, for I did not really want either companion or maid. 
 Will you tell Sir George Walpole that I will make arrangements 
 for his coming here whenever he likes, and say I shall be glad 
 to see him soon? I wish your harpist foster-brother would 
 come and play beneath the Earl's windows. He loves music, 
 and it might soothe him and bring him from his solitude ; for, 
 indeed, I dare not approach him. If Michael Pennant would 
 take his harp to Ton Bay, beneath the Tower, he would be 
 heard, and not seen, by his lordship, who would think him 
 some wandering harper, and would not be annoyed. Owen is 
 too old for the task." 
 
 "Poor old Owen is dead, my lady," said Daisy, sadly. 
 " Father offered him a home, but he did not need it. He was 
 found dead with his arms encircling his harp. He must have 
 fallen asleep while playing. Was it not a happy end ? " 
 
 "To play your own requiem?" sighed Lady Mona, startled. 
 " Suppose the Earl should be found so ? Daisy, I will go to 
 him at all risks. Can you help me ?" 
 
 " I will pray for you and him, my lady ; pray also yourself, 
 and the Lord will be your guide." 
 
 So saying, Daisy quietly rose to take leave; and Lady 
 Mona said, hurriedly, " Send your foster-brother, the harpist, to 
 the bay. Let it be this afternoon, if possible."
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 his lordship's solitude broken. 
 
 " "TA AVID, the sweet psalmist of Israel, played upon his 
 
 1 ) harp to King Saul when he was troubled in spirit," 
 said old Mr. Pennant to Michael, when Daisy had delivered 
 Lady Mona's request. " Perhaps thou mayst soothe his lord- 
 ship's pain similarly, my lad. His Jonathan has been stricken, 
 and he will not be comforted." 
 
 " I should fear rather to distress than please him, grand- 
 father," replied Michael. " If I thought I could be of any 
 comfort, of course I would go, but it seems a liberty on my 
 part." 
 
 " Lady Mona should know best," suggested Daisy ; " and if 
 it only encourage her to seek the Earl, it will be good. Do you 
 remember how Blondel played to Richard Cceur-de-Lion in his 
 captivity ? and what Shakespeare says of the power of music ? 
 and how the old poets praise it ? and how often the Master 
 bade you cultivate it, to refine and elevate the mind ? " 
 
 Michael smiled, as he assured Daisy that her examples were 
 sweet fictions, while the Earl was a sad reality. " But," he 
 added, "there can be no harm in my carrying my harp to the 
 bay, and playing to the waves, as you and I have often done 
 before, Daisy. I scarcely think the sounds will reach the Earl's 
 Tower ; and, at any rate, he can never know who produces 
 them. Will you come with me ? " 
 
 Daisy said she would ; and the young couple set out for Ton 
 Bay, Michael carrying his harp, and Gwylfa following. It was 
 a bright quiet October day, and they found the sea calm. 
 
 Daisy had not had the courage to visit the spot since the fatal 
 
 327
 
 328 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 morning, and she felt a sharp pain at her heart as she crossed 
 the sands towards the Castle rock. They established them- 
 selves where they could not be seen from the Castle, and where, 
 Michael believed, he could not be heard. 
 
 " I am only obeying orders, Daisy," he said, as he struck the 
 first chords of a plaintive Welsh air. 
 
 He was always happy to have her to himself, whether they 
 conversed or were silent — "discoursed sweet music" them- 
 selves, or listened to the music of Nature. So he played on, 
 forgetting, after a time, that he was supposed to be soothing 
 the sorrows of a gloomy lord, and, forgetting also, which was 
 more wonderful still, such work as he had to do afield. He 
 was still far from strong, and a constant anxiety to those who 
 loved him ; but he strove hard against weakness, whether bodily 
 or mental, that he might pursue his labours in the farm, as well 
 as his simple teachings amongst the sinful and ignorant. 
 When Caradoc reasoned with him, he always said, " I must do 
 my Master's work while it is called to-day," feeling how uncer- 
 tain was the tenure of his life. This unpresuming, shy, diffident 
 Michael was a hero ; for he had made a greater conquest than 
 the conquerors of nations have ever made— the conquest of 
 self. And no one knew of his heroism but He who "seeth 
 not as man seeth." 
 
 It is generally supposed, and even written, that the passion 
 of love is unconquerable by youth, and that it justifies strange 
 irregularities of conduct ; but the pale harper who sits by her he 
 loves has vanquished the monster, and is all the stronger and 
 all the grander for the victory. And even Daisy does not know 
 how well he loved her, when he relinquished her for her own 
 and another's sake. As she sits at his feet, gazing alternately 
 at him and the waves, or straining to catch sight of the Earl's 
 window, she considers him as a beloved brother, and believes 
 that he never thought of her otherwise than as a sister. They 
 make a charming picture : Michael at his harp, seated on a high 
 piece of rock, Daisy on a lower boulder, Gwylfa watching the 
 sea close by. They are out of reach of the tide, which is
 
 << 
 
 his lordship's solitude broken. 329 
 
 coming slowly in, and rippling a chorus to Michael's music. 
 The rocks on three sides, as well as the hills surmounting them, 
 are clad in the subdued reds and browns of their autumnal 
 garb, and the dark turrets of the Castle frown above them. 
 Sound ascends; and they are so placed that it is just possible 
 the plaintive tones of the harp may be wafted by the winds to 
 the Earl's Tower. 
 
 " I hope, dear Daisy," began Michael, during a pause 
 between two airs, " that you and Carad have not had a mis- 
 understanding; you appear to me to keep too much apart." 
 
 " I am aware of none, Michael," replied Daisy, colouring. 
 
 But we see so little of him. Yesterday was a white day 
 because he was at home. How happy we all were together ! " 
 
 Michael's suspicions of Daisy's love for the hapless young 
 lord had been aroused, as well as Caradoc's, and Daisy's furtive 
 but incessant attempts to catch sight of the Earl's windows 
 seemed rather to verify them. 
 
 " Play on, Michael ; I think I see a figure, and the window 
 wide open," she continued, glancing upward between two 
 rocks. " Play louder — louder — I am sure it is the Earl ! " 
 
 She rose in her excitement, and laid her hand on Michael's 
 shoulder, looking through the aperture with her finger on her 
 lips. Michael played on, and on. 
 
 It was the Earl. The music had reached the second storey 
 of the gloomy retreat he had chosen, and he appeared suddenly 
 at the window. There was also another listener and watcher. 
 Lady Mona stood on the summit of the rock where Michael 
 and Daisy sat gazing up at her father's windows. She was 
 outside the Castle wall, and sheltered from observation by some 
 arbutus bushes. She knew the love of the stern man for the 
 national music and national instrument, and had fancied that if 
 anything could soften him they would. She was terrified at the 
 figure those sounds she had invoked had drawn to the window. 
 An emaciated face, with unkempt white hair and beard, looked 
 out, while a thin hand grasped the bar that protected the case- 
 ment. She uttered a little cry, and crept along underneath the
 
 330 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Castle wall, while she heard the distant music of the harp still 
 floating upwards. She returned to the Castle, and hurried to 
 her father's Tower. It must be now or never, she thought, 
 roused into action, and softened by the Earl's appearance. The 
 doors of the basement were locked, but she easily opened those 
 of the second floor. One or two servants were engaged in the 
 unoccupied rooms, who managed so as not to encounter their 
 master. She passed them and went to the Earl's sitting-room, 
 where she knocked softly at the door. Not receiving permis- 
 sion to enter, she turned the door-handle gently, and crept in. 
 She had rarely been here before, and had, from childhood, con- 
 ceived a terror of her father's Tower. She had associated it 
 with ghosts and wrecks ever since she could remember. When 
 she entered and saw his tall thin form, wrapped in a dressing 
 gown, and still at the window, she nearly lost courage, and 
 thought of retreating. She scarcely believed it to be the Earl, 
 for had not his hair been grey and short, and his beard shaven? 
 — while here were long white locks and an unshorn beard. 
 Lady Mona had always feared and avoided her father, but this 
 was not her father, surely ! She advanced timidly and unheard, 
 while the echo of Michael's music stole in. It was literally 
 echoed by the amphitheatre of rocks and hills, so that the notes 
 were distinct. She reached the table, from which his lordship 
 must have lately arisen, for his chair was just pushed back, and 
 an open book lay before it. There was nothing else on the 
 table. Lady Mona stood beside it, and glanced over the pages. 
 To her surprise she saw that the book was a Bible. It was open 
 at the fifty-second and fifty-third chapters of Isaiah. She did 
 not know how appropriate they and the preceding chapters were 
 to him who had been reading them. She did not guess that 
 the Sacred Volume — Daisy's gift, and her dead brother's 
 legacy — had been the food of her miserable father by day and 
 by night for weeks. But, as she stood gazing upon it, tears 
 rushed to her eyes, and, with a sort of involuntary yearning that 
 she had never felt before, she held out her hands, and the word 
 1 Father !" escaped from her lips. Hitherto it had been " My
 
 his lordship's solitude broken. 331 
 
 lord." The Earl started, for no one but his son ever so 
 addressed him. He turned his wan, wild face from the window, 
 and saw a figure in black standing near the book he had been 
 reading. No one had, as yet, dared to tell him that his 
 daughter had arrived, and he had even forgotten the permission 
 he had given Daisy in those words, " Let her come." Many 
 weeks had passed since he had uttered them, during which he 
 had been abstracted from all exterior things by his grief 
 remorse, and the Book that lay upon the table. Lady Mona 
 resembled her mother ; and as she stood, pale and motionless, 
 with her outstretched arms, the Earl must, for a moment, have 
 believed that his dead wife had returned to him, for he ejacu- 
 lated "Alicia," and staggered towards his daughter. Lady 
 Mona, with a sudden impulse of tenderness new to her, hurried 
 to meet him ; and in a few moments father and daughter were 
 clasped in one another's arms. The poor, bowed, white head 
 was buried in shame, woe, penitence, remorse, on his child's 
 shoulder ; who, in her turn, felt similar emotions, if less terribly 
 strong. While sobs broke from the one, floods of tears fell 
 from the eyes of the other, and wetted the white head. The 
 daughter only realized the strength of her father's grief, knowing 
 little of his crimes ; while he, in the strange confusion of mind 
 bred by solitude and misery, realized nothing but that his wife 
 had returned to comfort him. His mind would have given way 
 had not Lady Mona come to him when she did ; and, as it was, 
 the brain was so disordered that he could not separate the 
 imaginary from the real. 
 
 " Our boy is dead — drowned ! I killed him ! " he muttered 
 at last. 
 
 "It is I, father: Mona!" whispered his daughter, still 
 holding him embraced. " Forgive my offence, and let me 
 comfort you. Oh ! I am sorry for the past, and that I never 
 saw either of them again. My grief and self-reproach are 
 deeper than yours ! " 
 
 These simple words roused the Earl. He drew himself up, 
 and recognised his daughter. Then he sank down in the
 
 S3 2 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 chair, and covered his face with his hands. She, usually 
 undemonstrative, and never having shown him affection before, 
 knelt beside him, and, sobbing as if her heart would break, 
 put her arms round him, and said, — 
 
 " Oh ! father, this is terrible ! Think of me, too — love me 
 a little, oh, my father !" 
 
 It was now her turn to bury her head on her father's knees, 
 and there, in the gathering October darkness and silence — for 
 the echoes of music had ceased, — remember that, if he had 
 never lavished much paternal love on her, she had never 
 shown him either filial affection or duty. Still there were the 
 germs of tenderness buried deep in those stern, cold, selfish 
 natures, and perhaps they were to spring forth and blossom at 
 last. Perhaps the Words of that Book of Life had sunk down 
 even to those hidden seeds of natural feeling, and stirred them 
 to a latent effort t ) put forth silent and secret shoots. Who 
 shall say ? But, oh ! let parents and children take to heart 
 that "Love is the fulfilling of the law !" 
 
 This father and child remained long speechless. At last 
 the Earl broke forth, almost in the words of the Book he had 
 studied morning, noon, and night, throughout the period of 
 his solitude. 
 
 " Oh ! miserable man that I am ! who shall deliver me from 
 the burden of this death ? " 
 
 Then he laid one hand on the head of his trembling daughter, 
 the other on the Bible, and cried, in the agony of his soul, — 
 
 '• Oh ! can I ever dare to say, ' Through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord ' ? " 
 
 Lady Mona understood no more of this outbreak than she 
 did of the remorse that caused it. She was terrified by it, and 
 feared that her father had gone mad.. Still, in her awakened 
 tenderness, she sought for some word of consolation; and, 
 while many thoughts darted through her mind, she remembered 
 Daisy's parting advice— "Pray, and the Lord will be your guide." 
 
 " Help us, O God ! " she cried aloud, in her distress, kneel- 
 ing as she was at her father's feet, his hand on her head.
 
 his lordship's solitude broken. 333 
 
 " Can I dare to pray?" he whispered, clutching at her hair 
 in the extremity of his suffering. 
 
 " Yes, father," she replied, suppressing a scream at the pain 
 he momentarily gave her. 
 
 He fell on his knees before the table, and laid his head on 
 his arms over the Word of God. She turned and knelt beside 
 him, leaning her hands and face on his shoulder. Thus, with 
 no sound but sobs and tears, the Lord of Craigavon and his 
 daughter prayed silently together for the first time to " the 
 King of kings and Lord of lords " 1
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 CANCELLING A DEDT. 
 
 WHEN Sir George Walpole next visited the Castle, he 
 was told that Lady Mona spent most of her time with 
 the Earl, and that she had given orders to be denied to all 
 visitors. 
 
 This intelligence caused Sir George to announce at the farm 
 that it was high time he should leave the neighbourhood, since 
 he found that he could be of use to no one. He had by this 
 time made his way into the hearts of his new friends, and 
 recovered the friendship of the old. The Master and he spent 
 much time together, discussing all subjects but one. Each 
 carefully avoided the mention of Sir George's wife ; and when 
 Adam Perceval, as we must now call him, told the Pennants, 
 casually, that Sir George was a widower, and not, as they 
 supposed, a bachelor, he showed so plainly that further inquiries 
 were distasteful to him that they abstained from making them. 
 
 '■ If you will come with me to London, Adam Perceval," 
 said Sir George, after another fruitless visit to the Castle, " we 
 will look up the publishers. I am told that there is nothing 
 like a personal interview in such matters. If you will not let 
 me benefit you by my useless money, you will, perhaps, let it 
 benefit the world by the deep things contained in your book. 
 Only don't expect me to read it. I like the world as it is, 
 better than as it was. But every man to his taste." 
 
 " My book concerns the present as well as the past, sir," 
 replied the Master, offended, "and you are not required to 
 read it. However, I accept your offer; but remember, I am 
 so poor and shabby that you will be ashamed of me." 
 
 334
 
 CANCELLING A DEBT. 335 
 
 " My tailor and hatter will furbish you up, if you will let 
 them," laughed Sir George, "and there are a few old friends 
 left who will not judge you by the cut of your coat. 1 should 
 like to see the Earl and Lady Mona before I go ; but I shall 
 wear out welcome at the farm if I delay longer." 
 
 11 No fear of that," remarked the Master. " As to the Earl, 
 he will be himself again by the time you return. A miser's 
 grief is golden." 
 
 " Why should I return, Adam Perceval ? I have no claim 
 to any one here. The old folks don't understand my language, 
 and the young ones can't care for an old fellow like me. I 
 wish I could take Daisy away with me. I never loved a girl 
 so well before, and I confess I have tried to love many." 
 
 " Now don't make a fool of yourself in your old age, George. 
 She won't have you. She must end by marrying either Carad 
 or Michael ; but, for the life of me, I can't find out which she 
 likes best." 
 
 " Marry her own brother ! " cried Sir George, amazed. 
 
 " What ! have you been a month at Brynhafod without 
 finding out that Daisy is not really a daughter of the house ? 
 But I don't wonder, for every one forgets it, and no one more 
 entirely than herself. She is not a Pennant." 
 
 " Then who on earth is she ? A relative ? " 
 
 " No ; only a foster-daughter. But every one looks on her 
 as really one of the family, and this makes her relations with 
 the boys so puzzling. They have been brought up as brothers 
 and sisters, and now we all want Michael to marry her ; but 
 they seem no nearer matrimony than when they were children. 
 She is sharp enough, I can tell you, and understands Latin 
 and mathematics better than Michael." 
 
 " She owes this to you, Adam Perceval ? " 
 
 " Rather to her own cleverness. She would learn everything 
 I taught the boys." 
 
 "And yet she is so simple and innocent." 
 
 " She has had a pure and healthful life, and I took care that 
 she had a pure and healthy literature. She has neither learnt
 
 336 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 nor read anything that could bring a blush to her cheek. Here 
 she comes to summon us to dinner. It will be as well not to 
 remind her of her early history." 
 
 During this conversation the old friends had been pacing up 
 and down in front of the farm, and it was interrupted by 
 Daisy, as aforesaid. Sir George looked at her with, if possible, 
 a new interest, and sighed as he accompanied her and the 
 Master to the house. During the homely meal he found him- 
 self watching her and Michael, and speculating on their feelings 
 for one another. He had requested that no alteration should 
 be made in the farm hours and food on his account, and had 
 declared that he had never in his life enjoyed a better appetite 
 or sounder sleep. 
 
 " We shall miss the poultry, and the fresh eggs, and the 
 vegetables, and the cream, and the well-cured bacon, when we 
 get to town, Adam Perceval," he said. 
 
 " You are not really going to leave us, sir ! " exclaimed 
 Daisy, and translated his words into Welsh. 
 
 " Yes, my dear. And I am going to carry off the Master," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " They will both come back again, my Eye of Day," said 
 the old farmer, between whom and Michael she sat, as usual. 
 
 " Grandfather says you will come back, sir," she repeated. 
 
 " I will, God willing. I have almost found my lost happiness 
 since I have been here," he rejoined. " And I have lound 
 what is next best— good listeners. You have helped me to 
 fight all my battles over again." 
 
 As soon as David and his wife understood that Sir George 
 was really going, they united with the rest in hoping that he 
 would return. 
 
 " Tell him that there will always be a welcome and a bed 
 for him," they said, simultaneously. "And we may be more 
 settled, and the best bed-room furnished again," continued 
 Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 " Have I not had the best bedroom ? There could not be 
 a better," asked Sir George.
 
 CANCELLING A DEBT. 337 
 
 " You have had Carad's room, sir, and he sleeps in town," 
 replied Daisy, with a blush. 
 
 "You make a deal more fuss about him than me," put in 
 the Master, feigning to be offended. '-But when I come back 
 as a celebrated author, perhaps you may think brain work as 
 good as sword work." 
 
 This was said in Welsh, and elicited a general exclamation 
 and subsequent explanation. 
 
 " Then our Master will be in print and famous, after all !" 
 cried Daisy, enthusiastically. 
 
 "Thanks to the lacs of rupees. Don't forget that a lac is 
 one hundred thousand, and each rupee two-and-fourpence in 
 value," said the Master, casting a twinkling glance at her 
 above his spectacles. 
 
 It was arranged that the journey to London should take 
 place in a day or so ; and Sir George, with the liberality of a 
 generous nature, as well as of a man who had more money 
 than he knew what to do with, was continually turning in his 
 mind how he could repay his entertainers. He meditated 
 bringing or sending fabulous presents from London, but, 
 meanwhile, it was not his way to leave in debt. Accordingly, 
 after family worship that same evening, he put a letter into 
 Daisy's hand, and asked her to deliver it, for him, to her 
 father. It was strange how that word " father " affected him, 
 knowing, as he then did, that David Pennant was not her 
 father after all. He retired immediately to his room, and 
 Daisy gave the letter to David Pennant, who took it with a 
 sort of tremor. 
 
 It may be stated here that, owing to the panic caused by 
 the Earl's refusal to renew the lease, and Mr. Pennant's sub- 
 sequent depression, every new thing gave him a shock. He 
 had neglected his business, and Michael had been prevented, 
 by his illness, seeing to it in his place. The old farmer was 
 nearly past work, and thus money matters had got sadly into 
 arrears. David Pennant had so lost heart that even the 
 temporary breathing-space given by the late sad events had
 
 338 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 not served to restore his natural spirits. It is one thing to be 
 resigned, another to be cheerful. He knew that some heavy 
 bills were due, and he did not know, just then, where to get 
 the money ; so when Daisy placed Sir George's letter in his 
 hand, he trembled lest it should be a demand that he could 
 not at once answer, prompt payment having ever been one of 
 his many watchwords. He put it quietly into his pocket 
 without asking any question, and waited until he was alone to 
 open it. He read and spoke English so imperfectly that, 
 beyond the beginning and the ending, he could make nothing 
 of the missive. He accordingly recalled Daisy, whose privilege 
 it was always to give him the last kiss, and who had left him 
 last. He begged her to translate the letter for him, being 
 assured that no demand for money could come to him from 
 Sir George. 
 
 It was as follows : — 
 
 " My dear Sir,— I have to thank you and your good 
 family for much undeserved kindness and hospitality. Will 
 you do me the favour to appropriate the accompanying trifle 
 in return, and believe me to be, 
 
 " Your sincere and obliged friend, 
 
 " George Walpole." 
 
 The " trifle " was a cheque for fifty pounds, written on one 
 half of the sheet of paper, and payable at the bank in the town 
 of Penruddock. Of course, all David's family were aware of 
 his difficulties, though they had not ventured to speak to him 
 concerning them ; so Daisy, when she had read these few 
 words, glanced at him half gladly, half doubtfully. She knew, 
 by the sudden knitting of his brow, how he took the gift. 
 
 "A Saxon never understands a Celt ! " he said. " I thought 
 better of Sir George. Does he think I would take money for 
 an act of hospitality? The Master should have told him 
 better. Take back his cheque, Daisy, with my best acknow- 
 ledgments, and say that as long as I have a house it is open 
 to the stranger; but not for gold — not for gold."
 
 A cheque for fifty pounds." 
 
 IPage 3&
 
 CANCELLING A DEBT. 339 
 
 Daisy took the cheque, which he separated from the letter, 
 and throwing her arms round his neck, said, " You are right, 
 dear father. I would rather think of him as our guest." 
 
 She felt shy and nervous, however, when she did David 
 Pennant's bidding the following morning. She asked Sir 
 George to come with her into the parlour, and there placed 
 the cheque in his hands, repeating her foster-father's words 
 as accurately as she could. Sir George looked hurt. 
 
 " I should not have invited myself had I not taken it for 
 granted that he would allow me to make some return," he 
 said. " I meant no offence, but only wished to repay, in a 
 slight degree, his kindness in receiving me. I should have 
 gone to an hotel had I supposed he meant to give all, and 
 take nothing. Of course I can never intrude again." 
 
 " Oh ! sir, do not say that," exclaimed Daisy. " You have 
 cheered us all, and done grandfather and father so much good. 
 They were very low when you came, and now they are almost 
 as merry as usual. Besides, you are the Master's friend." 
 
 " But the Master has been living upon them for nothing all 
 these years. What is the use of money if one cannot repay 
 the good deeds of worthy people ? " asked Sir George, irri- 
 tably. 
 
 " Repay, sir ! Kindness is its own repayment," replied 
 Daisy, thoughtfully. " Father and mother expect no return, 
 or what should I do, who have been only a trouble to them 
 all my life ? " 
 
 " I only wish I had such a trouble," said Sir George, gazing 
 on the sweet sensitive face, and remembering the Master's 
 caution not to remind her of her early history. " But I have 
 no claim upon them ; I am rich, and they won't share my 
 riches. Even Carad has disappointed me by declining a 
 capital military appointment that I could get him for the 
 asking. 1 ' 
 
 "It would kill mother if Carad went away," said Daisy, her 
 face flushing. 
 
 11 And Daisy, too, would be grieving, I fancy," returned Sir
 
 340 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 George, noting the changing colour. "Will you tell your 
 father, from me, that I honour him for his independent spirit, 
 but that I, also, have one, and am ashamed of myself for 
 trespassing, uninvited, on my neighbour's homestead. I shall 
 yet hope to find the means of returning his hospitality, if not 
 here, elsewhere; though I can never emulate his benevo- 
 lence." 
 
 " You would be doing him a kindness, sir, if, when you see 
 the Earl, you could counsel his lordship to renew our lease," 
 suggested Daisy. " I think father dislikes living on in this 
 uncertainty." 
 
 " I will write to him," replied Sir George. " I have many 
 things to say, and I may introduce the subject incidentally. 
 I will enclose my letter open to Lady Mona, who can give it 
 or not as she sees fit." 
 
 Sir George went to his room at once to write his letter, in 
 which he expressed a desire to see his old friend before he 
 left the country, and to ascertain from him, personally, whethei 
 Brynhafod was to be let. lie knew the Earl too well to 
 appeal against his decision, and hazarded this question merely 
 as a matter of business.
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 A FRATERNAL EXPLANATION. 
 
 BEFORE the day was out, a messenger arrived at Bryn- 
 hafod bearing a note from Lady Mona to Sir George 
 Walpole. It contained an invitation to that gentleman to 
 spend a day or two at the Castle before he left the country, 
 and urged his kindly accepting it at once. Sir George did not 
 hesitate, buc returned an answer to the effect that he would be 
 with Lady Mona to dinner. He made arrangements with 
 Adam Perceval to meet him at Penruddock in a few days, for 
 their projected journey to London, and took rather a hasty 
 leave of his friends at the farm. Marget's eyes opened wide 
 when he dropped a golden guinea into her hand, and Daisy's 
 had tears in them when he pressed a paper into hers, with the 
 words, " D : stribute it among the poor, my dear. They won't 
 refuse it. I daresay we shall meet again." 
 
 When she opened the paper, she found the cheque of which 
 she had previously been bearer. 
 
 " What can I do with it ? " she exclaimed, as she stood with 
 the rest of the family at the door, looking after the retreating 
 figure of Sir George, and of the Master, who was " sending 
 him," as the Welsh have it. 
 
 " Make the hearts of our neighbours leap for joy : I will 
 soon get it cashed," replied David Pennant. " He deserves 
 to be a hero, and he shall pay us next time, if he will." 
 
 " This is really ' speeding the parting guest,' " remarked Sir 
 George to Ap Adam, as he looked back to see master, mistress, 
 men, and maids watching him. 
 
 3.H
 
 342 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " There's generous he is ! " said little Ben, when he returned 
 from shouldering Sir George's portmanteau to the Castle. 
 
 Every one with whom Sir George came in contact endorsed 
 little Ben's opinion ; but Daisy was the only one who shed 
 tears when he departed from Brynhafod, and she found it 
 difficult to return to the routine of daily life after the eventful 
 stir of the late weeks and his presence at the farm. 
 
 The next day brought Mr. Tudor, with a message from Sir 
 George to Adam Perceval, to the effect that they must delay 
 their journey to London for a week or so. 
 
 " The Earl refuses to see me," said Mr. Tudor. " Lady 
 Mona says that he cannot yet bear to meet any one who had 
 to do with Lord Penruddock ; and that she fears he will make 
 that an excuse for declining an interview with Sir George. 
 But it is something gained that he is admitted at all to the 
 Castle." 
 
 " I consider myself only a tenant at will or on sufferance," 
 said David Pennant, "and shall be ready to quit when you 
 think best. I am not sure that it was wise to act on those few 
 words of the Earl to Carad ; for he has never sent for him 
 since, or alluded to the subject." 
 
 " His lordship has not either spoken or written on any 
 matter of business, so we can only wait," rejoined the Vicar. 
 
 "You and Miss Manent set us a good example in that line," 
 laughed David, with something of his old manner. 
 
 "Waiting" seemed the normal condition of all Lord 
 Craigavon's friends and dependants at that period. Those in 
 the Castle waited for money to keep its routine going, and the 
 outsiders for orders ; but all were agreed in respecting a grief 
 so overwhelming as even to make one, whose passion was 
 reputed avarice, forgetful of his money and his rights. 
 
 Caradoc was, individually, the most independent of cir- 
 cumstances connected with the Earl. Patients thronged to his 
 town rather than to his country abode, and, as money came in, 
 he quietly went on furnishing his house, with a view to 
 receiving his family there in case of emergency. As we have
 
 A FRATERNAL EXPLANATION. 343 
 
 said, he was little at Brynhafod, and the estrangement in- 
 creased between him and Daisy, neither knew why. 
 
 Saturday was market-day at Penruddock, and Michael came 
 to see him. As this was his busiest day, he prevailed with his 
 brother to spend the Sunday with him. 
 
 " We can then have a quiet talk over everything," he said. 
 " We are never alone together now." 
 
 " I can send word home by Ben bach, and return Monday 
 morning," replied Michael, and the brothers rejoiced in a 
 genuine and lengthy conversation. 
 
 After they had been to the quaint old church in the quaint 
 old town, and had had their bachelor tea, Michael took the 
 opportunity of beginning the subject nearest to his heart. He 
 prefaced it by remarking that all the young ladies had their 
 eye on Carad and his smart new house, and that, if he didn't 
 take care, some one or other of them would storm and carry 
 the fortifications. Of course Caradoc replied, as young men 
 do, that the attempt would be useless, for he did not mean to 
 marry. 
 
 " I see no one so pretty as our Daisy," said Michael. 
 "There may be girls more accomplished and smarter dressed, 
 but not so fair. Neither can they ride so well, and I'll be 
 bound they do not understand Latin." 
 
 Caradoc smiled, and stroked a kitten that had been brought 
 from Brynhafod, and had attached itself to him. It was, at 
 the moment, crawling up to his shoulder. Seeing that he made 
 no reply, however, Michael continued: 
 
 " Have Daisy and you quarrelled, Carad ? You seem to 
 avoid her ; and, indeed, I think it makes her unhappy." 
 
 " No, we have not quarrelled, Michael," answered Caradoc. 
 
 " If you were to bring Daisy here as bride, Carad, she 
 would surpass, in beauty and manners, every fine lady in Pen- 
 ruddock," hazarded Michael. 
 
 Caradoc glanced up quickly at Michael, who sat opposite 
 him by the cheerful fire. 
 
 " What do you mean, brother? If Daisy's heart is not with
 
 344 TIIE TENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 the dead it should be at Brynhafod, and continue to beat there 
 till the end," he said, hastily. 
 
 " Not so, Carad," returned Michael, gravely. " I cannot 
 yet discover if she loved the unfortunate lord, for I am net 
 brave enough to ask her ; but assuredly her heart is not with 
 me, as you imply. She loves me as a sister, and loves me well, 
 but no more." 
 
 Michael suppressed all the emotion he felt, and met Caradoc's 
 flashing eyes calmly. 
 
 " My poor Michael — my dearest brother ! Has she told 
 you this? Did it cause your illness? Have you lived 
 through so cruel a case?" asked Caradoc, excitedly. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind, Carad ; but I have told her, and she 
 did not deny it. Knowing the wishes and intentions of our 
 parents, and that she would obey them, I took myself and her 
 to task. I discovered that, if I married, I must win some- 
 thing more than a sister's love, and feel — well — feel more than 
 a brother's. During my illness I watched her narrowly. She 
 gave me all the care and all the nursing, but not the love. She 
 was sometimes almost hard and absent, and rarely tender. 
 She was, indeed, not herself. It was at this time that Lord 
 Pcnruddock's proposal and the Earl's vengeance were hanging 
 over us, and I know not if that caused her strangeness ; but i 
 discovered assuredly that she did not love me." 
 
 Michael paused; for Caradoc had, in Ids excitement, thrown 
 down the kitten, and drawn his chair close to his brother's. 
 
 " Oh ! Michael, how could you bear it ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " As you see, and have seen," replied Michael, smiling, and 
 maintaining his composure. " You remember seeking us on 
 the little mountain that hay-making time, after my illness? I 
 had just told her that I knew she did not love me otherwise 
 than as a sister, and that I pined for the old sisterly affection 
 that she had withdrawn. Had you seen her change of face, 
 Carad — and I understand its every expression — you would 
 have known I was right. You remember how we all walked 
 home together in silence, and how meekly and tenderly she
 
 A FRATERNAL EXPLANATION. 345 
 
 watched and waited on me. We have been as brother and 
 sister ever since, and my only fear is that our parents still look 
 forward to our being something nearer. They have set their 
 hearts on her for a real daughter, Carad." 
 
 Michael paused, and Caradoc took up the conversation with 
 difficulty. 
 
 "They reckon on your marriage with her," he said. 
 " Father told me not long since that he was glad to see that 
 you and Daisy were on the old terms once more. And, 
 Michael, I believe you have always loved her." 
 
 "Dearly, Carad, and love her still, as my sister; but I 
 shall never marry her. And if I did, she might soon be 
 widowed, for you know how uncertain are my health and life. 
 Cut I also wish she were in truth my sister. We should then 
 be even happier, and more at ease together, than now. If 
 you have shunned her for my sake, brother, as I think you 
 have, pray do so no more. And oh ! give me back the old 
 confidence; for our souls were one as boys, but they have been 
 divided as men. I know you kept from me the secret of your 
 beacon for my good, and maybe you have concealed that of 
 your love." 
 
 Michael fixed his eyes on his brother's troubled face, and 
 felt sure that he was right. Caradoc looked eager and excited, 
 but pained. It was some time before he spoke. 
 
 "Michael," he said at last, "it would be hard if we both 
 loved Daisy, and both loved in vain — hard if, after this our 
 struggle to sacrifice our love for her to one another, she should 
 be devoted to the memory of the dead. It was she who gave 
 the Bible to Lord Penruddock, and she alone who had in- 
 fluence with the Earl. On her way home from the Castle 
 with me, after her last interview with him, she never spoke, 
 but I think shed tears silently." 
 
 " Perhaps you did not speak to her," suggested Michael. 
 
 "No, for I did not care to intrude upon her grief." 
 
 " Time will clear up the mystery," said Michael, perplexed. 
 "But, meanwhile, will you be as brother to her once more? "
 
 346 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " I cannot, Michael, for my love is not a brother's. It must 
 be all or nothing. But for our mother, I should be away over 
 sea, beyond her influence. My life is just now an almost un- 
 endurable struggle, for I am not half so brave or good as you. 
 Brother, show me how you have gained a victory that I can 
 never hope to win." 
 
 Caradoc put his arm round Michael's neck in the old boyish 
 way, and looked into his pure, thoughtful eyes. 
 
 " Now we are brothers again ! " cried Michael, joyfully. 
 " Not even Daisy can estrange us, for our hearts are one. 
 Seek her love, Carad, for it is worth the winning. Even if she 
 sO far forgot us and our station as to think of Lord Penrud- 
 dock, it was only for a time." 
 
 " I heard her say that she would not give him up," inter- 
 rupted Caradoc. 
 
 " God's will was stronger than hers, and he is gone," replied 
 Michael. " She will yet give her love to you, who were her 
 first and best. Strive for it, for all our sakes." 
 
 " You would not say so had you seen her emotion when 
 we found him on the beach. She nearly fainted," argued 
 Caradoc. 
 
 " I have seen her turn white as a sheet at sight ot a dead 
 lamb," returned Michael. " She has a woman's tender heart." 
 
 " Michael, I dare not talk of Daisy ! " exclaimed Caradoc, 
 abruptly. " I have patients to see. I will be back soon." 
 
 And, so saying, he left Michael to his hopes and fears.
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 A LONELY JOURNEY. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of dreary November, a chaise and 
 pair, with the customary post-boy, drove quickly through 
 the hamlet of Craigavon, and vanished down the road to the 
 Castle. The peasants speculated ; but as the shutters of the 
 chaise were closed, and no one was visible within, they could 
 not discover what was to be its use. It passed through the 
 great gates, and drew up at the principal entrance of the Castle. 
 Almost immediately after, a servant brought out some luggage, 
 and placed it noiselessly on the chaise, motioning to the post- 
 boy to keep his horses quiet. There was a strange stillness 
 within and about the Castle, and no one was visible except the 
 aforesaid domestic, who disappeared as soon as he had com- 
 pleted his task. He was succeeded by Lady Mona, who 
 entered the great hall, glancing from side to side ; then went 
 into the court, still looking cautiously about her. She retreated 
 in turn, satisfied, apparently, that there were no spectators. 
 In a few minutes she reappeared, accompanied by the Earl, 
 who was leaning on her arm. 
 
 His lordship tottered as he walked, and held his head down 
 even more than was his custom. He appeared so much broken 
 that such servants as contrived to get sight of him from their 
 various hiding-places, declared they would not have known 
 him. He neither spoke during his passage through the Castle, 
 nor after he had entered the chaise ; but, pressing his daughter's 
 hand, allowed her to close the shuttered door upon him. 
 
 When this was done, his valet suddenly came from behind a 
 
 va
 
 348 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 projecting part of the Castle, and mounted the box. The 
 chaise drove off; and thus the Lord of Craigavon quitted his 
 Castle so silently and secretly that, but for the unexpected 
 appearance of the conveyance, his dependants would scarcely 
 have been aware of his departure. 
 
 Lady Mona stood alone under the arched doorway to watch 
 the carriage, then silently stole through the gloomy halls and 
 passages until she reached her own apartments. Here she sat 
 long in lonely meditation. Although she had been much with 
 her father since their interview of seeming reconciliation, he 
 had spoken little to her. When she had asked permission to 
 be his companion, he had assented with the proviso that no 
 one else should approach him. Knowing his taciturn nature, 
 she was not surprised at his silence ; but she could not under- 
 stand his state. He had continued to read the Bible, but had 
 alternated his reading by writing letters. These had been 
 principally to Sir George Walpole, and to his lawyers in town 
 and country. All that Lady Mona knew concerning them was 
 that, on the receipt of the last, Sir George had expressed his 
 intention of going at once to town, and thence to Scotland, to 
 a shooting-box of the Earl's in that country, which had been a 
 favourite resort of Lord Penruddock. 
 
 Sir George had left the Castle accordingly, without being 
 admitted to the Earl's presence ; and, when he was gone, 
 Lady Mona heard from her father that he intended to follow 
 him to Scotland, and she was requested to remain at the Castle 
 until the General's return, after which she was to leave at once 
 for London. She had nothing to do but to obey. 
 
 As she sat alone in the window where her mother used to 
 sit at her embroidery, she felt strangely uncertain concerning 
 the future. The Castle and its dependencies must be hers 
 eventually, but why had her father left it ? and why was she to 
 quit it ? She knew that he had lost his chief interest in life 
 with his son ; still he had been almost as much engrossed in 
 his wealth as in him. The more she thought the more con- 
 fused she became, and at last she grew so depressed that she
 
 A LONELY JOURNEY. 349 
 
 summoned Morris, just then her only resource for conversation. 
 Morris could always find a reason for everything, and said it 
 was her belief that his lordship was only gone away for a time 
 to be quiet ; and that he would come back by-and-by, as well 
 as ever, and make as much of Lady Mona as he had done of 
 Lord Penruddock. 
 
 " But for that Daisy Pennant I don't believe his lordship 
 would have been drowned at all," said Morris, decidedly. " He 
 came back unforeseen to see her; and that's my opinion, my 
 lady, if I should die for it." 
 
 " It is all so sudden and strange that I cannot understand it," 
 replied Lady Mona; "but Daisy has, in some way, been the 
 means of reconciling me to the Earl, and it is my intention to 
 repay her. You remember her locket ? It must be returned 
 to her. I am sorry, now, that I ever asked you to unfasten it ; 
 but it was only childish curiosity and jealousy, and I did not 
 mean to steal it." 
 
 " Dear me ! no, my lady. The child lost it, and I picked 
 it up afterwards," said Morris. " There was such a fuss about 
 my Lord Penruddock and that Caradoc Pennant afterwards, 
 and his lordship's going to school, and all sorts of nonsense, 
 that I declare to goodness I forgot all about it till — you 
 remember, my lady — till it was too late to send it back." 
 
 Lady Mona did remember, and a flush of shame overspread 
 her face. She had even a dim recollection that she wanted 
 the beautiful locket, and that to please her, Morris had manipu- 
 lated it, until she had discovered the secret of the clasp, and 
 finally stolen it. However, she neither dared to express nor 
 believe this ; she preferred thinking that Daisy had actually 
 dropped the locket, that Morris had picked it up, and, after 
 some weeks, had shown it to her. She knew full well that 
 Morris had impressed upon her the fact that all waifs and 
 strays were the Earl's, and that, consequently, the locket was 
 his, and by inheritance hers ; she also knew that the passion 
 of avarice had been born with her, as with her father. Put 
 late events had awakened dormant conscience.
 
 350 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " I daresay you know where the locket is, Morris," said 
 Lady Mona. " Bring it to me." 
 
 " Indeed, my lady, I'm not sure" replied Morris, feeling 
 frightened. " Suppose they should suspect me, and your lady- 
 ship knows I only picked it up, and then, as was natural in a 
 child, your ladyship wanted to keep it a little while, and 
 so " 
 
 "You shall not be implicated; but you must find the 
 locket." 
 
 " I'm thinking that your ladyship carried it away when you 
 left for London, and I'm not responsible for that period of 
 your ladyship's jewellery." 
 
 Lady Mona was herself uncertain on this point, although 
 she knew that she had not seen the locket since she left fjae 
 Castle. 
 
 " We will search for it, then, Morris," she said. " At any rate 
 we have the Castle to ourselves ; and if we find it, Daisy and 
 her friends will readily believe that it has turned up in some of 
 the Earl's hiding-places. When I am mistress here, I shall be 
 able to repay you for your devotion to me, and we shall not 
 miss the locket, valuable as it undoubtedly is. I hope Sir 
 George Walpole will return soon, for I should die if I were to 
 remain here long alone ; and the Earl requests that no one but 
 he shall be admitted. I cannot have even Miss Manent, or 
 Daisy, or Dr. Pennant ; and I dared not name Captain 
 Soames." 
 
 During the intercourse with her father, Lady Mona had not 
 ventured to mention her husband ; and the Earl had appeared 
 to ignore him. As he had, however, apparently forgiven her, 
 she had the discretion to be silent, almost wondering whether 
 he might not have forgotten her secret marriage in his de- 
 mented grief. 
 
 She passed the weeks that intervened before Sir George's 
 return in packing up all that belonged to her at the Castle. 
 Selfishness came back with solitude, and she, not unjustly, 
 considered she had a right to possess what was her own.
 
 A LONELY JOURNEY. 35 I 
 
 When Sir George Walpole reappeared, she was ready to depart, 
 but naturally made many inquiries concerning her father's 
 plans for the future, and his intentions as regarded his estab- 
 lishment at the Castle. Sir George told her that the Earl had, 
 in writing, bound him over to secrecy for the present, but that 
 his intentions would soon be made public. It was evident 
 that Sir George was perplexed by his position as manager of 
 the Earl's affairs, and he assured Lady Mona that he would 
 write her full particulars as soon as her father gave him per- 
 mission, adding that he disliked secrets, and this one was 
 scarcely necessary. He concluded a long conversation on 
 business, by saying abruptly, — 
 
 " Do you like this place, Lady Mona ? " 
 
 " I hate it, and shouldn't care if I never saw it again," was 
 the reply. " If you see Miss Manent, will you wish her good- 
 bye for me, and Daisy Pennant — I am fond of her. By-the- 
 way, you will do me a favour, Sir George ? " 
 
 "Anything in my power," replied that gentleman, 
 
 Lady Mona left the room abruptly, but soon returned. 
 
 " Will you kindly undertake to place this in the hands ot 
 Daisy Pennant yourself? " said her ladyship, giving Sir George 
 a small, neatly-folded, well-sealed packet. " Tell her it was 
 found the other day, and I remembered that she lost it here." 
 She flushed as she spoke, though her words were measured. 
 
 " You may depend on me, Lady Mona," said Sir George, 
 putting the parcel in his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 Lady Mona left Craigavon very differently from the Earl, 
 and carried off much more luggage than she brought with her. 
 Imperials and boxes were piled on the carriage, and no avail- 
 able space was unfilled. She told Sir George frankly that she 
 was taking with her some of the possessions she had left be- 
 hind her when she went to London, and that she would be 
 obliged by his seeing that others, marked with her name, were 
 preserved for her. Sir George said her wishes should be 
 attended to, and that he was empowered to negotiate with her 
 on such matters, and would gladly serve her.
 
 352 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 All the servants stood about the court, some prepared to 
 accompany her ladyship, others packing the carriage, a few 
 idle. Morris was in travelling trim, having resumed her old 
 position as maid. There had bsen no regrets when the Earl 
 took his silent departure ; there were none when Lady Mona 
 made her more magnificent exodus. As she bowed graciously 
 to one and another, and shook hands with Sir George, her 
 manner was rather cold and haughty than depressed or anxious. 
 Still, as the carriage and four drove off, she looked at the 
 grand and gloomy pile she was leaving with a pride that such 
 ancestral residences usually inspire, and uttered the words, " I 
 hope the secret is of no moment, and that the Earl will soon 
 return." 
 
 " I will write at once," replied Sir George, his manner much 
 embarrassed. 
 
 As she passed under the great arched portcullis, and drove 
 swiftly up the Castle road, the November winds and the sea 
 waves made moan together, while the discoloured trees and 
 browning hills looked sorrowfully down, as they had done 
 when the Earl departed. At a gate leading to Brynhafod, she 
 saw Daisy. She uttered an imperative " Stop," and beckoned 
 her to the carriage. 
 
 " Good-bye, Daisy. Were you watching for me?" she said. 
 
 " Yes, my lady. Good-bye, and God bless you ! " replied 
 Daisy. 
 
 They shook hands warmly. 
 
 " Drive on," cried Lady Mona as she strained out of the 
 carriage to see the last of Daisy, who stood watching at the 
 gate.
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 TWO FATHERS. 
 
 THE nine days' wonder at the Earl and Lady Mona's 
 departure was succeeded by another. It was publicly 
 announced in a few weeks that the Earl of Craigavon had sold 
 his Welsh property, and that Sir George Walpole was its pur- 
 chaser. Sir George was actually in possession before any one 
 but himself, f he Earl, and the lawyers, was made acquainted 
 with the fact, and he alone knew anything of the circumstances 
 that led to it. 
 
 In reply to his letter of inquiry concerning the lease of Bryn- 
 hafod, the Earl had written to say that he intended to sell 
 the Castle and its dependencies, and to quit Wales for ever. 
 It was instantly apparent to Sir George that his lordship could 
 no longer endure a place where his only son had been 
 drowned, and knowing the man, he was convinced that he 
 would not change his purpose. He was himself quick, nay, 
 hasty, of resolve, and a few hours' consideration sufficed to 
 induce him to inquire concerning the purchase of the estates. 
 He liked what he had seen of Wales and her people, and he 
 believed that he might secure that peace at Craigavon that he 
 had lost in India. He also thought that he might spend his 
 large fortune usefully among a poor peasantry, and inaugurate 
 a better system of things for the seafarers. 
 
 The Earl's morbid dread of publicity caused him to fall in 
 with Sir George's views at once, and a brisk correspondence 
 ensued. Sir George was empowered to treat with the Earl's 
 lawyers both in town and country ; but was to name the sub- 
 
 3:3 A A
 
 354 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 ject to no one else, until the transfer of the property was 
 completed, and the Earl and his daughter had left the 
 Castle. 
 
 When Sir George, accompanied by Adam Perceval, went to 
 London, the former was engaged in law, the latter in literature ; 
 and while the one completed his arrangements for the purchase 
 of a large estate, the other made his for the publication of a 
 great work. Sir George also went to Scotland, at the Earl's 
 request, to prepare his people there for his reception ; and he 
 met Captain Everard Soames in London, to inform him that 
 his father-in-law wished him to take possession of his town- 
 house for the present, in order to receive Lady Mona there. 
 
 The Earl's secretive nature manifested itself even in his 
 despair ; for nothing was evolved during these transactions that 
 could throw further light on his plans. When Sir George 
 returned to the Castle, he did not know that his lordship had 
 already left it, or that he had ordered Lady Mona's departure 
 immediately afterwards. 
 
 Thus, when both were actually gone, Sir George found him- 
 self in possession of an extensive, if not a rich, estate, and 
 suddenly invested with responsibilities graver than he had 
 imagined. 
 
 He felt restless, nevertheless, until he took them on himself, 
 and scarcely allowed the astonishing news to circulate, before 
 he began to reflect on what he had to do. 
 
 His mind naturally turned to Brynhafod, and he resolved 
 that his first act and deed should be to set the Pennants at 
 ease concerning the lease. 
 
 They had heard with astonishment and pleasure, though not 
 unmixed with regrets for the melancholy Earl, of the change of 
 landlords. Daisy, especially, was much delighted and much 
 troubled. While rejoicing that Sir George was to be chief, she 
 could not help sorrowing for the deposed lord. She loved the 
 one, and pitied the other. While dispensing Sir George's 
 bounties, she had seen the shuttered chaise drive past, and her 
 tender heart sank when she afterwards heard that it contained
 
 TWO FATHERS. 355 
 
 one who would be henceforth as dead to her. She also specu- 
 lated whether Sir George Walpole, as lord of the manor, would 
 be as kind and condescending as he had been when the 
 honoured guest of the farm. 
 
 One evening, early in December, the Pennants were seated 
 round the chimney-corner, talking over these strange changes. 
 Caradoc and Adam Perceval were both there, and the family 
 party was complete. Daisy had just been saying that she 
 wished Sir George would come and see them, when that gentle- 
 man appeared in their midst. He had entered gently, as he 
 had been in the habit of doing when he stayed with them, and 
 his hand was on his favourite Daisy's shoulder, almost before 
 she knew he was in the room. The bustle was great, and 
 the greetings warm. When he had shaken hands with all the 
 party, he sat down by Daisy, opposite the log fire, in a place 
 vacated by Caradoc, who took his old seat near his mother. It 
 was natural that the new relations of landlord and tenant 
 should produce a momentary shyness, but Sir George soon 
 dispelled it. 
 
 " I could not rest," he said, " until I came to ask you to 
 remain here, Mr. Pennant. I scarcely understand either my- 
 self, or my position, as yet; but I hope the change made by 
 Lord Craigavon will not induce you to change." 
 
 Sir George addressed old Mr. Pennant, but, as he seemed 
 unable to answer, his son replied for him, Caradoc acting as 
 interpreter. 
 
 " We shall be thankful to continue your tenants, Sir George, 
 as you must know, and we will strive to do our best for you 
 and the land." 
 
 "Then that is settled," said Sir George. "We will get a 
 lease for nine hundred and ninety-nine years, by which time 
 you, or your successors, may have come to your own again." 
 
 An expressive silence succeeded these words, during which 
 Mrs. Pennant's smooth face was wet with tears, and Daisy's 
 fair head bent to conceal her emotion. Then the old man 
 spoke.
 
 356 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 "I thank the Lord, and you, sir, that I shall be permitted 
 to end my days where I began them; and I pray that my 
 children may never disgrace their name or your property." 
 
 A murmur of thanks and assent circled through the little 
 party, and grateful feeling shone in the eyes which the flames 
 lighted up. Sir George broke another temporary silence. 
 
 "Lady Mona has given me a little commission for you, 
 Daisy. She requested me to deliver this to you myself." 
 
 He took from his waistcoat pocket the packet Lady Mona 
 had entrusted to his care, and placed it in Daisy's hand. 
 
 " I was to tell you," he continued, " that you lost it at the 
 Castle, and it was found the other day." 
 
 " Open it, Daisy," said several voices at once, as all leant 
 forwards in eager expectancy and excitement. 
 
 She broke the seals, and opening a small paper box, saw 
 the longdost locket and chain, which she had forgotten. She 
 held it up in the firelight, saying, 
 
 " Has Lady Mona sent me so handsome a present? " 
 
 " It is your own locket, Daisy ! " exclaimed Mrs. Pennant, 
 roused into animation, and rising from her seat. 
 
 "That it certainly is, for I remember it," said Caradoc, 
 rising also. 
 
 There was quite a hubbub and general movement round 
 Daisy, as she sat looking at the costly ornament, and holding 
 it before her. 
 
 " How strange that it should be found after so many years, 
 and how beautiful it is ! " said Daisy. " My name is quite 
 clear in the brilliants. Who can I be?" 
 
 " Will you let me look at it ? " asked Sir George Walpole, 
 who had been listening and looking on. 
 
 Daisy placed the locket and chain in his hand. He ex- 
 amined them carefully in the firelight, stooping to do so. 
 
 "How did she come by this?" he asked, glancing at 
 Caradoc. 
 
 " It was round her neck when she wr.s saved from the 
 wreck," he replied.
 
 TWO FATHERS. 357 
 
 " When Carad and Gwylfa saved me, and brought me here, 5 ' 
 said Daisy, turning to Sir George. 
 
 The old dog, asleep on the hearth, hearing his name, got up 
 and put his paw on Daisy's lap. 
 
 "Are you quite sure that it is the same locket?" asked Sir 
 George, in a strange, husky voice, still examining it. 
 
 "It can be no other," replied Caradoc; "we all remember, 
 except Daisy ; it was never off her neck until the day I took 
 her first to the Castle, with Lady Mona's maid, Morris; but 
 we have never seen it since." 
 
 "I believe Miss Morris stole it," muttered Mrs. Pennant. 
 
 '■ How old was she ? — how was she wrecked ? — what was 
 the ship?" asked Sir George, with singular agitation, still 
 looking at the locket. 
 
 " We thought her about four or five," returned Caradoc. 
 " The wreck was at Ton Bay, and every soul besides perished. 
 We were all on the spot to try and save life, but nothing came 
 on shore except Daisy, brought in by Gwylfa." 
 
 " And my doll, Carad," put in Daisy. 
 
 " And the black figure-head of the ship — my Cleopatra — 
 which I rescued," said Adam Perceval, 
 
 " My God ! can it be ! " exclaimed Sir George, clasping his 
 hands, and letting fall the chain and locket. 
 
 All eyes were turned upon him. He looked so pale that 
 Daisy, seated next to him, was frightened. She laid her hand 
 on his with the exclamation, " Oh ! sir, what is the matter?" 
 
 He clasped the hand tightly, but could not answer. They 
 were alarmed for him, and his friend Adam Perceval entreated 
 him to speak, and tell them what it meant. 
 
 "One moment," said Sir George, recovering himself. "If 
 what you say be true — if this chain was clasped round her 
 neck — if Put tell me what she said when you saved her." 
 
 " She pointed to the hair in the locket as her papa and 
 mamma's," cried Caradoc, suspecting, he knew scarcely what, 
 from Sir George's agitation. "She said her father was far 
 away over the sea, and her mother and her ayah were gone
 
 353 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 on in the ship. She spoke much in a tongue which the 
 Master said was Hindostanee. She talked of soldiers, and 
 seemed accustomed to strange scenes." 
 
 "She could read a little and repeat hymns, and was docile 
 and well-trained from the first," interrupted the Master. 
 
 Sir George continued to hold Daisy's hand as in a vice, 
 while he bent over it and listened , and Daisy glanced from 
 one to another in astonishment. At last Sir George Walpole 
 turned to Daisy, and said, as calmly as he could, as though 
 not to take her by surprise — 
 
 " Daisy, my darling, God has brought it to pass. Nothing 
 is too wonderful for Him. I am your father ! " 
 
 Then he took her in his arms and kissed her. 
 
 Daisy trembled as he held her, understanding nothing, while 
 a strong emotion thrilled through her. 
 
 " Say it again ! What does it mean ? " she whispered. 
 
 "That your mother and I hung that locket round your 
 neck ; that she was ill, and took you with her to England ; 
 that I never saw or heard of her, or you, or the ayah again ; 
 but that you are miraculously restored to me, and are my 
 long-lost child." 
 
 "Your child!" cried Adam Perceval and the others simul- 
 taneously. 
 
 " My child — my own ! " said Sir George, with a sob. 
 
 " You never told me " began Adam Perceval excitedly. 
 
 " You never asked, and I dared not speak of my double 
 loss. They were gone, and my grief was buried, I thought, 
 with them. But that was my little one's locket, and this is — 
 my Daisy ! " 
 
 Yes ; Daisy Pennant was Daisy Walpole. In the mysterious 
 ways of Providence, Sir George had brought his own daughter 
 the only remaining memorial of her early life, and the only 
 thing left to her that could have enabled him to recognise 
 her. A few minutes had sufficed to draw back the veil of 
 years, and to prove to him that the young girl who had 
 strangely attracted him from the first was his daughter.
 
 TWO FATHERS. 359 
 
 "Thy ways are past finding out!" ejaculated Old Farmer 
 Pennant, when he understood what had passed before him, 
 and saw Sir George and Daisy's strong emotion. 
 
 Mrs Pennant picked up the locket, and went softly behind 
 Daisy to clasp it round her neck. 
 
 "You are our child all the same," she whispered, as she 
 pressed her motherly lips on her foster-daughter's cheek, and 
 began to cry quietly. 
 
 Daisy leaned her head against her, and burst into tears. 
 She could not realize what had happened, or that she was 
 other than she had seemed to be so many years. 
 
 By degrees, however, as she and Sir George grew calm, 
 they disentangled the strange web of events, and knew that 
 they were in very deed father and daughter. Every one 
 present had something to say of the shipwreck and subsequent 
 communications of the rescued child, and Marget was called, 
 before the evening ended, to add her knowledge to that of 
 the rest, and to wonder at the grand discovery. Sir George 
 received every possible detail, from the moment when Gwylfa 
 laid Daisy at Caradoc's feet, until the time when he first saw 
 her at the early Christmas service ; and as the old dog, on 
 hearing his name often repeated, went from one to another, 
 the grateful father laid his hand on his great shaggy head and 
 blessed him. His gratitude to Caradoc and the others was 
 too deep for words, but he blessed them also in his heart. 
 
 In return for the minute history told to him, he gave a 
 slight sketch of his brief married life. Glancing at Adam 
 Perceval, he said that he had been united somewhat hastily 
 to Daisy's mother, the day before they were to set sail for 
 India. She had been delicate then, and the climate of her 
 new home did not agree with her. She was better, however, 
 after Daisy's birth, for a year or so, when her health again 
 failed. It was at last decided that she should return to 
 England, and take the child with her. This was a terrible 
 grief to Sir George, who knew that many years must elapse 
 Lcfore he could see them aa;ain.
 
 360 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 Shortly before they left him he bought the locket and chain 
 which had been instrumental in the late recognition, caused 
 the word "Daisy" to be engraven amongst the diamonds — 
 the child's name being Marguerite — and had his own and his 
 wife's hair placed within. The trick of the clasp was known 
 only to his wife and Daisy's black nurse, who accompanied 
 them on their ill-fated voyage. 
 
 The Cleopatra set sail when Sir George was engaged in 
 active service ; and about the time that he should have re- 
 ceived letters from his wife, he learnt that the vessel was 
 reported lost, for she had not been heard of since she touched 
 at the Cape. The rest we already know. 
 
 Daisy was much overcome by this brief sketch of her 
 mother's sad story, told by Sir George in haste and broken 
 sentences. She could not realize her position, and while 
 claimed and embraced by Sir George as his daughter, she 
 held out her disengaged hand to David Pennant; and looking 
 from one to another between tears and smiles, she said, " I 
 am indeed fortunate, for I have now two fathers."
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 FROM FARM TO CASTLE. 
 
 WE have seen that Sir George Walpole had a quick, 
 decided mind. Having found a daughter, therefore, 
 his first idea was that she should come to him at once, and be 
 recognised as Miss Walpole, of Craigavon Castle. Daisy and 
 the Pennants, while shrinking from the prospect of separation, 
 still felt that his claim was just, and prepared to yield to it. 
 But an unexpected delay occurred, which caused her to con- 
 tinue a while longer at Brynhafod, to the general joy. 
 
 The day but one after the discovery of her parentage, and 
 while she and her father were together, discussing his hopes 
 and plans for their happy future life, a letter reached him from 
 the Earl. It contained a briefly-expressed request that Sir 
 George would do his lordship the favour of causing to be sold 
 by auction the contents of the Castle vaults and Aran Tower, 
 together with such furniture of the Castle as he did not desire 
 to retain. 
 
 " This is what I wished," said Sir George, putting the 
 letter into Daisy's hand. " Now I can have a cheerful home 
 for my darling. But she must remain a little longer in the 
 old one." 
 
 It seemed almost like a reprieve to Daisy, who dreaded the 
 Castle, and could not realize her new position. 
 
 " You will not disturb the Countess's boudoir, dear sir ? " 
 she said, a tear trembling in her eye, as she held the letter of 
 one with whom she had had encounters so terrible and so 
 pathetic. 
 
 3«'
 
 362 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " You shall retain what you will — furnish anew as you will, 
 my darling— my daughter !" replied Sir George. 
 
 " I have no choice, dear sir ; but perhaps Lady Mona " 
 
 Daisy paused. 
 
 " I understand, my Daisy. She shall be consulted, and we 
 will keep for her — or, more properly, buy in for her and our- 
 selves—what we wish to possess. We must not defraud the 
 Earl of ' his rights,' " said Sir George, with a smile. 
 
 " The poor, sad Earl ! " echoed Daisy, shuddering. 
 
 Sir George put his arm round her and kissed her, saying 
 gaily that grandfather and all the rest must be consulted 
 concerning the sale. 
 
 " May I call them here ? " she asked, her face brightening 
 at the term " grandfather." 
 
 •' We will seek them together, if you will take me with you. 
 I cannot lose sight of my new and only treasure," replied Sir 
 George, who was in danger of repressing her natural freedom 
 by over-much devotion. 
 
 But consultations concerning the sale, and consequent 
 arrangements for it, came opportunely to divert the inmates 
 of the farm and parish from the subject of Daisy and her 
 father, and to restore her mind to its balance. 
 
 The prompt Sir George Walpole set to work at once to seek 
 auctioneers and advertise the sale, which created great ex- 
 citement throughout the county, and, indeed, far beyond it. 
 Sir George was assisted by his friend Perceval in superin- 
 tending the clearance of Tower and vaults, and sad, indeed, 
 was the sight of the heap of sea-worn, rust-eaten, rat-ridden 
 goods displayed to view. But all articles of value had been 
 abstracted from the melancholy heaps of wreckage, and the 
 shells alone remained of the rich fruits the sea had supplied 
 for the Earl's harvests. Amongst these was an empty box, 
 with the name " Wyndham " on its lid. It will be remembered 
 that Gwylfa helped to tug it ashore, the morning after Daisy's 
 advent at the farm. It brought another proof, if one were 
 wanting, of Daisy's identity— since Sir George knew that a
 
 FROM FARM TO CASTLE. 363 
 
 Colonel and Mrs. Wyndham were among the passengers by 
 the ill-fated Cleopatra. This box was reverently preserved. 
 
 People came to the sale from far and near, crowding both 
 Castle and Tower, to gratify a long-entertained curiosity. 
 The observatory on the Tower, and the Countess's boudoir, 
 were the only parts not open to the public. This was a dis- 
 appointment, and so was the absence of Daisy from the scene 
 of so unusual a novelty. Every one wanted to see the future 
 mistress of the Castle — the girl reputed so beautiful, yet only 
 a farm-maiden — her so romantically saved, and recognised. 
 Cut no Daisy appeared. She spent three of the most wretched 
 days she ever remembered to have passed ; for she resolutely 
 remained within doors, longing to be without. Mere con- 
 finement to the house was not the sole trial she endured. 
 She was condemned to hear Mrs. Pennant's continued, " Ah ! 
 Daisy, what shall we do without you ? '' and Marget's, " Ach ! 
 Miss Daisy, and that's not befitting a grand lady like you ! " 
 and to catch woe-begone glances from the rest of the household. 
 
 However, another nine days' wonder ended at last, and the 
 sale was over, and Daisy free to wander about once more at 
 her own sweet will. Yet not so free as before, since a father, 
 who had no one but her, claimed her, and she found that to 
 please him she must interest herself in re-furnishing and re- 
 pairing the Castle. Those fabulous lacs of rupees effected this 
 in an incredibly short space, and it was soon ready to receive 
 Miss Walpole, and such of Sir George's friends and acquaint- 
 ances as were desirous to see him and the country-maiden so 
 unexpectedly announced as his daughter. 
 
 It was spring when she took up her abode with her father ; 
 for, in spite of many longings on her part, and sad regrets at 
 Brynhafod, this she naturally did. Not that she was actually 
 separated from her first and dearest friends, since she saw 
 them daily ; still the Miss Walpole of Craigavon Castle was 
 different from the Daisy Pennant of Brynhafod, and she 
 sighed as she felt it. She strove not to let this appear, how- 
 ever, but
 
 364 TIIE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Shaped herself, with woman's meekness, 
 To all duties of her rank." 
 
 And, although always simple, her nature and education 
 enabled her to do this with little or no effort. 
 
 She found the Castle much changed. Sir Geortre had 
 brightened up the old furniture without spoiling it, under the 
 auspices of Adam Perceval, and had added appropriate new. 
 Oak panellings and carvings had been cleaned, and tarnished 
 gildings restored All was habitable ; and the apartments in 
 which they were to live were snug and comfortable. The 
 Countess's boudoir was alone unchanged. Sir George was 
 particular in seeing that the servants' offices were improved, 
 and the stabling perfected; for he, like the Pennants, was as 
 tender of the brute creation as of the human, and was wont to 
 say, "Woe to them who are not!" Your true Christian 
 soldier is ever merciful. The dungeon was bricked up, the 
 vaults closed, and the cellars replenished. The lacs of rupees 
 that still remained were to be spent in hospitality to rich and 
 poor, and when Daisy came in contact with the former, she 
 did not lose her dignified simplicity. When with the latter, 
 she maintained her cheerful and natural loving kindness. 
 
 We have said that she was a capital horsewoman ; and 
 when her father and she began to ride together, and she dis- 
 played, not only her good horsemanship, but her exceeding 
 grace of figure and beauty of face, all his friends and acquaint 
 ances expressed wonder that one so refined should have been 
 bred at a farm. 
 
 " Blood will tell ; and besides, the Pennants are superior 
 people, and of old family," was the opinion expressed. 
 
 She did not hear it, and it would not have influenced her if 
 she had. Whether on horseback or on foot, her desire was to 
 make Sir George acquainted with the beauty of her dear Wales, 
 and the wants of its peasantry; and this she gradually satisfied. 
 
 One morning in May, a few weeks after her location at the 
 Castle, her father and she returned on horseback from one of 
 these exploring expeditions. As she dismounted, her face
 
 FROM FARM TO CASTLE. 365 
 
 flushed, and a nosegay of heath-flowers in her hand, presented 
 to her by one of her school-children, it was no wonder if, not 
 onl> Sir George, but his servants, looked at her admiringly. 
 As she had had a winning smile and kind word for all at the 
 farm, so she still had at the Castle, and she was in danger of 
 being more spoilt than ever. Father and daughter went 
 together through the great hall, up the great staircase, and 
 into a pretty room that Sir George had re-furnished for Daisy. 
 It looked towards the Esgair, and was bright and sunny that 
 May morning. Daisy began at once to put her nosegay in 
 water, while Sir George watched her. He seemed never to 
 tire of looking at or embracing her. The new habit he had 
 bought her became her figure well, and he thought she 
 could not have been lovelier had she been bred in a palace. 
 
 "I am afraid we must delay the beacon yet awhile," he 
 began ; " I find it would cost more than I can pay at present. 
 What have you next on your list, my dear love ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir ! my list is that long ! " replied Daisy, widening her 
 arms, as she held a flower in each hand. " But the beacon 
 takes up the greatest space. If only it could be built for 
 Carad's sake, as well as to save from shipwreck." 
 
 Sir George perceived that she coloured as she said "Carad." 
 " In the course of a few years, darling. But what keeps 
 Carad from the Castle ? He is a proud young fellow." 
 
 " Oh, no, sir ! he fears to intrude, I think," blushed Daisy. 
 
 " Next to the beacon, I have the vicarage," she added, hastily. 
 
 " I have anticipated you there, darling. I have given orders 
 
 for the restoration of the vicarage ; but I suppose I cannot 
 
 command the banns and ceremony ? " 
 
 " Dear sir, how kind you are ! " said Daisy, dropping her 
 gorse, and laying her hand on Sir George's shoulder. " They 
 have waited so long, and so patiently ! May they be married 
 from here, and live here until the house is ready ? " 
 Sir George laughed heartily. 
 
 " I should think they had better return to Tudor's mother," 
 he said. " She has a roomy abode enough. Still, they shall
 
 366 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 come here, if you wish it. You may shelter the parish, 
 darling." 
 
 " You will do that, dear sir. The poor people bless you 
 already, and the inhabitants of Monad have promised Michael 
 and me to turn over a new leaf, if you will repair their miserable 
 huts They say they cannot be good in such dwellings " 
 
 " There again I have anticipated you, for I mean to root up 
 wrecking and wreckers, and have taken measures accordingly. 
 What do you say to the Master as monarch of Aran Tower, 
 and steward of Craigavon ? He tells me he has a fancy for the 
 Tower and the observatory, and I think it may be made habit- 
 able. Young Tudor has given up the stewardship, and the 
 Vicar thinks his mother may continue to live on where she is, 
 with a little help. I have offered her the house for her life, and 
 asked Adam Perceval to be steward. There is a piece of news 
 for you ! " 
 
 " The Master to live in that gloomy Twr Aran ? And what 
 will become of Evan, and poor old Betto ? " asked Daisy, 
 thoughtfully. " He may do a good work in their place, but 
 they are old and feeble." 
 
 " And of evil repute." continued Sir George. " I hear from 
 Carad that Evan and Davy Jones, and some few others of your 
 friends and Michael's, must be looked after sharply ; and the 
 Master promises to do it, with much pleasure. But they shall 
 not starve, though they are a bad lot, and have already 
 volunteered disclosures to me concerning the Earl, for which 
 I longed to punish them. The stories already in circulation 
 concerning his lordship are horrible. Adam Perceval laughs 
 when I try to stop the people's mouths, and says — ' As well try 
 to check a watercourse.' But he adds — ' Let me have Twr 
 Aran all to myself, and it shall go hard with me if I don't put 
 an end to wrecking, at Craigavon at least." 
 
 It may be as well to say here that when Lord Craigavon had 
 left the country, and it was known that he did not mean to re- 
 turn to it again, tongues, hitherto fear-bound, were loosed, and 
 rumours floated about much to the Earl's discredit.
 
 FROM FARM TO CASTLE. 367 
 
 " Have you any other reforms in your eye, Daisy ? " resumed 
 Sir George, after a brief interval. 
 
 " You are thinking me too presuming, sir, and jesting with 
 me," she answered. " But Michael and I sadly want a new 
 school-house, and Mr. Tudor quite agrees with us. He enters 
 into everything with all his heart since he has been free to do 
 as he likes. And he says he knows the parish would help to 
 build it, as well as to restore the church and vicarage. You 
 know father is churchwarden, and would set it all going. Oh ! 
 sir, he and grandfather and all of them are as happy as the day 
 is long, now that they are sure of living all their life at the 
 farm." 
 
 " When will you be able to give me that dear name as 
 naturally as you do them, my darling ? " asked Sir George. 
 
 " Oh ! sir, it will come. But you seem such a grand gentle- 
 man to me who have been brought up at Brynhafod," said 
 Daisy, going nearer Sir George, who put his arm round her 
 waist, and drew her towards him. 
 
 " I am far less grand than your friends at the farm, my love. 
 Theirs is a grandeur independent of position or circumstances. 
 Even Carad has not been spoiled by his good looks and 
 education. Can you tell me why he is so anxious to leave the 
 country ? " 
 
 Daisy started, and turned pale at this abrupt question. 
 
 " I did not know he was anxious," she stammered, turning 
 her head away. " I thought he had settled to remain at Pen- 
 ruddock. It would kill poor mother ! " 
 
 " He says, on the contrary, that now Michael is well, and 
 nothing the matter at home, he feels that he is not wanted, 
 and even asks me to help him to a foreign appointment." 
 
 Sir George felt Daisy tremble as he held her, and thought he 
 heard her heart throb ; but she spoke calmly, and almost 
 proudly, as she rejoined — 
 
 " He has always wished to travel. He is ambitious, and has 
 never taken kindly to a country life since he lived so long in 
 London. He will be happier abroad, I dare say."
 
 363 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " Have you and he quarrelled, Daisy ? You scarcely seem 
 at home together, as brother and sister should." 
 
 ''He no longer treats me as a sister, since I have been your 
 daughter, dear sir, but as some strange and grand lady, from 
 whom he must keep at a distance. Indeed, my only grief is 
 that they all feel this, more or less, though I strive to be 
 humbler than when I was the 'proud miss ' of the farm, as the 
 Monads called me." 
 
 " I perceive that, love, for you had sometimes a haughty 
 look that you have now lost. But surely Carad, of all men, 
 should not think of paltry distinctions. He who saved your 
 life, and has since, under God, saved mine : for I, too, should 
 have been lost with the yacht and crew but for his timely help. 
 I must speak to him about it." 
 
 " Oh ! pray do not, sir ; it would make him more distant 
 still." 
 
 Daisy brushed a tear from her eye, while she again moved 
 towards her flowers, Sir George still watching her narrowly as 
 he sat sideways at the table. 
 
 " I seem to know you so little, child," he remarked ; " in- 
 deed I know little of young people generally, but did you— 
 I must ask the question— did you return the affection poor 
 Penruddock bestowed on you ? " 
 
 Daisy looked at her father, surprised, but not embarrassed. 
 
 " Oh ! no, sir. At first I disliked him, then I pitied him, 
 now I think of him with sorrow. But I cannot speak of him 
 or of the Earl, their story is so sad, and I never, never forget 
 how I saw them together on the beach." 
 
 The recollection of this was always too much for Daisy, 
 and brought a recurrence of the excitement the actual scene 
 had caused her. But she had much self-command, and over- 
 came it. 
 
 " My darling, I did not mean to distress you. I would not 
 give you a moment's pain for all the world. You shall have 
 everything you wish — vicarage, school-house, church, wedding 
 even— though I hate weddings — and Miss Manent can come
 
 FROM FARM TO CASTLE. 369 
 
 here at once to prepare ; though I would rather have you all 
 to myself." 
 
 Daisy laughed, and thanked Sir George, assuring him, at the 
 same time, that she had a little patience, and could wait. Still 
 this was how he began and continued to indulge his new-found 
 treasure. 
 
 B 1;
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 CARAD AND DAISY. 
 
 DAISY always read Lord Craigavon's letters to her father 
 with interest. But although they gradually became 
 more frequent, and even increased in length, his lordship never 
 named her. Sir George had communicated to him, as shortly 
 as possible, the facts connected with his discovery of their 
 relationship, but the Earl had made no allusion to them. 
 About this time, however, there came a letter, in which strange 
 mention was made of her name. The Earl wrote as follows : 
 " I should be obliged by your asking Miss Walpole to be so 
 good as to dispose of the proceeds of the sale as she may 
 think best." This was all, and it surprised Sir George more 
 than Daisy. 
 
 "His repentance is sincere," she thought, "and I am sure I 
 can carry out his wishes ; " then she added aloud to her father, 
 " Say that I will, with his lordship's permission, employ it to 
 J>lace a proper beacon on the Esgair. Thus the property of the 
 drowned will save the lives of future sailors, and it can be done 
 at once." 
 
 " Whom will you consult ? " asked Sir George. 
 
 " Carad," she said. " He imagined the lantern, and set it 
 on the rock ; he must undertake this." 
 
 Caradoc was at once officially summoned by Sir George, who 
 even appointed a " particular consultation." 
 
 He came to the moment, and was told that Sir George was 
 
 out, but had left word that, if he did not return in time, Dr. 
 
 Pennant was to be shown to Miss Walpole. 
 
 370
 
 CARAD AND DAISY. 371 
 
 " Miss Walpole ! " the word always sent poor Caradoc to 
 the North Pole. However, he followed a servant to Daisy's 
 pretty room, who launched forth in praise of his new master 
 and mistress. 
 
 " You would think Miss Walpole had always lived in a great 
 house, sir ; though I was always saying, when she was with you, 
 as she was a born lady." 
 
 Caradoc smiled and sighed, as he was thus reminded of the 
 distance between him and the new Daisy. He found her ex- 
 pecting him and Sir George, and busily engaged in knitting. 
 His manner was stiff and unnatural, and he knew it. Hers was 
 also restrained, though she strove to be herself. She was sit- 
 ting near an open window, at a table, on which were her 
 knitting-basket and a nosegay of her favourite mountain 
 flowers. 
 
 " I was trying to finish grandfather's stockings against you 
 came," she began, as he took a seat at a little distance ; " I 
 mean to knit them as I used to do. Have you seen Sir 
 George, Carad ? I mean my father; but it is so difficult to call 
 him by that name, after so many years. He was to have been 
 here to meet you." 
 
 In spite of Daisy's simplicity, she was much embarrassed, fur 
 they had not been alone together since her change of abode. 
 She felt how altered she must seem to him in her elegant, if 
 simple, muslin dress, and that beautiful room ! while he — he 
 was just the same to her as ever. 
 
 " Evans said Sir George would be in soon," he replied ; " I 
 understood I was summoned for a consultation, and feared 
 either he or you were ill." 
 
 " It is such a pleasant consultation that I am not afraid to 
 begin it," laughed Daisy, dropping the knitting, and looking 
 at Carad ; " it is about a beacon on the Esgair." 
 
 "A beacon on the Esgair !" he repeated; and his manner 
 became natural and excited. 
 
 "Yes. The Earl has given me permission to use the 
 money gained by that fearful sale as I like. It seems all a
 
 IJ2 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 dream, but I want you to build with it a light to replace our 
 old lantern, and Sir — I mean my dear father— will make up 
 any deficiency. Oh, Carad ! he is so good and generous. 
 He promises to do everything I wish." 
 
 " A lighthouse on the Esgair ! And I am to build it ! 
 That is a dream fulfilled," cried Caradoc, drawing near her 
 little table, his face flushing with joy. 
 
 " Knowing what we do, Carad, I thought it would seem 
 like some slight atonement for the past, and perhaps soften 
 the ill-will of the people, if the poor, sad Earl were to replace 
 the ' Witch's fire ' he extinguished." 
 
 "Every one knows who the witch was," said Caradoc, meet- 
 ing Daisy's grave eyes, and bringing a sunbeam into them. 
 " All the country is talking of you, and of our beacon. I 
 think Evan must have told our secret — helped, perhaps, by 
 the Master." 
 
 " The Master ! " repeated Daisy, restraint suddenly disap- 
 pearing. " Is it not grand that his great work is so soon to 
 be published ? I am prouder of that than of anything." 
 
 " Yet not so proud as he is of you," returned Caradoc. 
 "He says his life's book was published when you, his pupil, 
 were the acknowledged daughter of his friend — above all, ot 
 that friend's wife." 
 
 " He loved my mother," ejaculated Daisy, her head droop- 
 ing pathetically. " How strange and solemn is love ! The 
 only things the Earl took with him from this huge Castle were 
 the portraits of her ladyship — Lady Mona— and Lord Penrud- 
 dock. It pains me to see the marks they have left on the 
 wall." 
 
 "Oh, Daisy!" said Caradoc, sympathetically; and it was 
 the first time he had so called her since her change of fortune. 
 
 She looked up and smiled, then hastily began to discuss the 
 project of the beacon. Caradoc had, she knew, long studied 
 the capabilities of the spot for a lighthouse, and had even 
 drawn the plans. Reserve wore off as they talked over their 
 darling scheme ; and as it gradually disappeared, and nature
 
 CARAD AND DAISY. 373 
 
 resumed her sway, they were boy and girl again, climbing the 
 heights, lighting the Esgair fire, catching and riding the moun- 
 tain pony, and even driving the cattle a-field with Ben bach. 
 
 "Marget told me you were in the dairy, yesterday, and 
 declared the butter was ill-made," said Caradoc. 
 
 " So it was," laughed Daisy ; " but Marget did not dare to 
 call me disparaging names. She only tossed her head, as 
 much as to say, ' If you were Daisy, now, I'd be putting you 
 down ! But, Miss Walpole, ach yn wir.' " 
 
 They both laughed heartily. 
 
 "They are all lost without yon, even though they tell me 
 you come every day," said Caradoc. " Indeed, the house is 
 desolate ; but you — you are happy." 
 
 " Yes ; for, thanks to my new and dear father, I can now 
 make others happy. Bat he says you are unhappy, and wish 
 to leave home. You cannot go until you have made the 
 beacon. Why must you go at all, Carad?" asked Daisy. 
 
 "Because I dare not remain," he replied, gazing through the 
 window, as if looking for the Esgair, and listening to the wild 
 sea beneath. "I shall be better away until I can realize that 
 you are a great lady, and I only a farmer's son." 
 
 These simple words made Daisy start, flush, look at his 
 kind, sad face, and clasping her hands, exclaim, — 
 
 " l( that is why you go, I would I were again a farmer's 
 daughter ! " 
 
 The words had scarcely left her lips when she wished them 
 recalled. She meant by them nothing forward, nothing un- 
 womanly. Caradoc was her hero, tenfold grander than her- 
 self, and she only wished him to think that she would fain be 
 humbler than he. 
 
 But he was even more heroic than she thought, for he was 
 desirous to overcome the love of a life, because she had 
 suddenly risen to a state beyond his own. He rose hastily and 
 went to the window, her eyes following him. Neither spoke, 
 but the heaving sea and its elastic breeze spoke for them. 
 
 Daisy's words tempted him sorely, and she little knew the
 
 374 TIIE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 effect they had. They inspired a sudden hope that, after all, 
 she loved him best, dashed by the recollection that, even if 
 she did, he could not ask Sir George Walpole's daughter to be 
 his wife. Caradoc had a strong and noble mind, and he could 
 not tempt Daisy, though she was very dear to him, to do any- 
 thing unbecoming her new station, or displeasing to her lately- 
 found parent. They seemed to understand one another, by 
 some sudden intuition, for the first time, and the thought 
 uppermost in the heart of both was that they earnestly wished 
 Daisy to be again the hidden mountain flower, and not trans- 
 planted to the Castle. 
 
 When Caradoc turned from the window, he saw that there 
 were tears in the eyes of her he loved so dearly, and she 
 perceived an unusual sadness in his face. Bat he only said, — 
 
 " I will set to work about the beacon at once, so that, if I 
 go abroad, I may have the happiness of thinking that we 
 have been associated in this good work with the unfortunate 
 Earl ; and you, when you see it, may perhaps think of me." 
 
 " I shall not need the beacon to think of you, Carad," she 
 replied gravely, letting her tears fall quietly upon her folded 
 hands. " Have we not been as brother and sister ever since 
 you carried me, a little child, from the yawning sea to our 
 happy home ? I wish we had never left it, either you or I, 
 though, doubtless, our ways have been shaped for us." 
 
 <; If I were really your brother, or could calmly look on you 
 as a sister, as Michael says he does, my way would be plain," 
 returned Caradoc. " I should then be thankful that my sister 
 was raised to a position where she may shine, as a light on a 
 hill, through her clear purity and good works ; while I, in my 
 humble valley, could also do my work in His vineyard who 
 has called us to labour for Him. But I cannot do this. I am 
 always thinking of you, and shall as long as I am near yon, 
 with a sad regret that I am not your equal in fortune or posi- 
 tion ; that it is my duty to treat you as one far above me in all 
 social distinctions ; and that I am passing the bounds of respect 
 if even I call you by the dear familiar name of Daisy."
 
 CARAD AND DAISY. 375 
 
 "Grandfather still calls me his Eye of Day, and so do the 
 others," argued Daisy, humbly. " Only Marget now never 
 forgets to put the Miss before it, and Michael sometimes says 
 he ought to put it, but he does not. Why are you so different? 
 — you who my father and the Master sometimes say should be 
 heir of all, if right were right ? " 
 
 " That is a myth of the Master's, who has puzzled out our 
 old pedigree at last," said Caradoc, smiling. " I suppose Pen- 
 nants ruled the land in British days, and Penruddocks in 
 Norman ; but now, we have the English Walpole, and long 
 may he reign over us, and you, his heiress and successor." 
 
 Caradoc's tone changed, as he spoke, from its natural frank- 
 ness to a certain haughtiness, which it sometimes took when 
 the subject of his really ancient lineage turned up. But the 
 old manner returned when he saw that he had distressed 
 Daisy. 
 
 " Forgive me," he said, " if I seem foolish ; I never wished 
 for rank or power until you left our poor home, and came to 
 this lordly place. All I have desired, hitherto, has been to 
 benefit my fellow-creatures, but now I would climb any height 
 that should bring me to your level. But I dare not talk to 
 you thus, and you must not tempt me by your humility." 
 
 He paused, and as he glanced at her with the light of a 
 pure, unselfish love in his eyes, her tears fell faster and faster. 
 At this moment the door opened, and Sir George Walpole 
 came into the room.
 
 CHATTER LIII. 
 a father's love. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Daisy did her best to brush off her tears 
 when her father entered, he soon saw that something 
 was amiss, and shrewdly suspected the cause. But he was 
 too wise to interfere in what might possibly have been a lover's 
 quarrel. He, therefore, tried at once to set the young people 
 at their ease by beginning the subject of the beacon. Caradoc 
 recovered first; and when he had detailed his long-matured 
 designs, Sir George told him to get the advice of an architect 
 and engineer, and to begin to carry them out without delay, 
 promising to make up all deficiency in funds. But Daisy did 
 not join in the conversation at all. She had enough to do to 
 stay the course of her tears, and, by way of concealing them, 
 took up her knitting. 
 
 "Has Daisy told you that we are to have a wedding?" 
 asked Sir George, when the discussion was over. "No ! then 
 I must announce it. The Vicar has obligingly consented U> 
 take Miss Manent ' for better, for worse,' and they are to be 
 married from here. As I hate weddings, I think of going 
 away till it is over. Will you come with me? Then Daisy 
 will have it all her own way." 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " exclaimed Daisy, roused at once. " You are to 
 give the bride away, and Carad must be best man." 
 
 " Is that how you mean to nail us both ? " said. Sir George. 
 " But I cannot promise. The only wedding I shall feel it my 
 duty to attend is yours, and then it would be on condition that 
 you did not leave me."
 
 a father's love. 377 
 
 He glanced from her to Caradoc, and perceived that they 
 both coloured. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! how can you ? " she said, bending over her 
 knitting. 
 
 " What do you say, Carad ? " he continued. " Have I not 
 a right to keep her for the rest of her life, having had so little 
 of her heretofore ? And would not my son-in-law be cruel if 
 he insisted on taking her from me? I could not live without 
 my treasure, now I have secured her." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, she should never leave you," replied Caradoc, 
 summoning courage to give the expected answer, yet scarcely 
 knowing what he meant ; " she could ill be spared from the 
 people who love her so well, and the place where she has 
 grown up." 
 
 " That was Btynhafod," interrupted Sir George. " I must 
 keep her in this less cheerful old Castle — which, however, we 
 will make bright enough by-and-by, with weddings, and feast- 
 ings for the poor, and all the charities — will we not, my 
 darling?" 
 
 He laid his hand on Daisy's shoulder, who looked up at 
 him through the tears, but could not speak. 
 
 Caradoc rose to go, and Sir George did not detain him. 
 When Daisy also rose to take leave of him, she said, with her 
 usual simplicity, — ■ 
 
 " Give my love to mother, and all at home." 
 
 Sir George accompanied Caradoc from the room, and, when 
 they were gone, Daisy laid her head on the table, and let her 
 tears flow unrestrained. 
 
 When the gentlemen reached the great passage, Sir George 
 told Caradoc that he wanted a few words with him, and took 
 him into the late Countess's sitting-room. Caradoc feared that 
 he was to be questioned and reproached for Daisy's tears, so 
 he was not surprised when Sir George began, in his straight- 
 forward way, to speak of them and her. 
 
 " Have you and Daisy quarrelled ? " he asked. "She was 
 in tears when I joined you, and I cannot have her weep. If I
 
 $j8 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 can prevent a recurrence of such emotion, tell me, and I will 
 do it." 
 
 " We had not quarrelled, sir. We seldom quarrelled in the 
 
 old days ; now I should not venture " began Caradoc, and 
 
 paused. 
 
 " I think 1 understand you," supplied Sir George. "You are 
 too much of a gentleman to take advantage of the old rela- 
 tions that existed between you, now that Daisy is mistress here. 
 Yet no efforts of yours or mine can wipe out the past, and I, 
 for one, should not wish to do it. You and yours have saved 
 and brought up my darling, and given a home to my friend. 
 It is now my turn to protect them both, but not to sever the 
 tighter ties ; on the contrary, I wish still more firmly to unite 
 them. We owe a debt to you that we can never repay ; but 
 you may, perhaps, make it heavier still by insuring my child's 
 happiness, and therewith mine. You love her, Carad?" 
 
 " If I love her ! Oh ! sir, who could help it ? " said Cara- 
 doc, surprised into a confession. 
 
 " Then you have my permission to tell her so. Wait ! 
 Don't thank me yet. If the tears I saw meant what I suspect, 
 I must have a promise from you before you dry them. You 
 must live here with me ; you must be content to be second in 
 command, if first in love, while I live, and then the Pennants 
 will come to their own again." 
 
 Caradoc stood a few minutes looking at Sir George, so 
 bewildered by what he had said that he could neither believe 
 nor understand it. But Sir George understood it all ; he read 
 the long-suppressed love in the flushed face and speechless 
 lips ; and, when Caradoc at last found words, he knew that he 
 had not misjudged him. 
 
 " I am not deserving of this," he said, " either in myself or 
 my condition. But I have loved her always, with the one 
 great love of my heart. Still, even with your generous 
 permission, I dare not hope ; she has never encouraged me ; 
 she has rather seemed to love another best. This is why I 
 have wished to go away."
 
 a father's love. 379 
 
 " I understand all this. But you have not given me your 
 promise," rejoined Sir George. 
 
 " I could desire nothing better in this world, sir, than what 
 you so generously, so strangely propose," stammered Caradoc, 
 scarcely knowing what lie said. 
 
 " Then return to Daisy, tell her so, and dry those tears," 
 said Sir George. 
 
 The bewildered Caradoc found Daisy as we left her, with 
 her fair head on her arm. She was still sobbing, and did not 
 hear him come in. He went up to her quietly, and whispered 
 " Daisy." He did not dare to touch her even then. She 
 started up, and strove to appear calm. But this was as im- 
 possible to her as to him. 
 
 "Daisy — dear Daisy," he repeated. "Sir George, your 
 father, permits me to call you so. Will you forgive my pride, 
 and bear with me for our childhood's sake ? " 
 
 It was now her turn to be puzzled, and to say in her simple 
 way,— 
 
 " Oh ! Carad, you know I wish you to call me Daisy." 
 
 She looked at him with a certain shy dignity, as if to say it 
 is you who stand off and are changed. She read something in 
 his face which brought the colour to hers. But he was still 
 diffident and mistrustful of himself, and even then remembered 
 those others whom he believed she had preferred to him ; 
 especially the thought of Michael gave him a sudden pang, for 
 in what sweet will not true love mix a bitter? However, he 
 summoned courage at last, and " told his love." 
 
 "It was from the moment when I came home, and saw 
 you under the mistletoe," he said, summoning courage, as the 
 tale developed. " It has been deepening, strengthening ever 
 since, but would never have been declared had not your father 
 detained me just now, and told me to dry your tears. Oh ! 
 Daisy fac/i, if only I could do so now, now and for ever." 
 
 Daisy's head had been drooping lower and lower, while tears 
 and smiles had been striving together in her face, and her 
 heart beating far faster than its wont. She looked up, frankly,
 
 380 THE TENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 at the familiar term of endearment, so expressive in Welsh, and 
 the smile overcame the tears. It spread over her countenance 
 like a sunbeam. 
 
 " Now we are as we used to be once more," she said, hold- 
 ing out both hands. " Carad, will you never be cold again ? " 
 
 " Not as we used to be, Daisy," said Caradoc, taking the 
 hands. " We can never, never, more be as brother and sister 
 if your love is the love 1 ask." 
 
 " It has been yours, and yours only, from childhood till 
 now," said Daisy, shyly, but decidedly. 
 
 He was satisfied ; and we leave it to the imagination to 
 paint how he " dried her tears "
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 TWO WEDDINGS. 
 
 ONCE upon a time it was the pleasant fashion to wind up 
 a story with a wedding — we will follow and improve 
 upon it, and wind up this with two. 
 
 Sir George said that since Caradoc and Daisy had let him 
 settle their affairs, they should settle the Vicar's. Miss Ma- 
 nent was accordingly invited to the Castle, where, with Daisy's 
 aid, her trousseau, or, as the Welsh call it, stafell, was pro- 
 vided. Meanwhile, Mr. Tudor, helped by Sir George and the 
 Pennants, superintended the restoration of the vicarage. They 
 were married some little time before Daisy, as she wished to 
 keep her promise concerning the bridesmaid and best man, 
 posts which she and Caradoc rilled honourably. Sir George 
 gave the timid bride away, and invited her husband's friends to 
 the wedding feast. When she and the Vicar drove off in his 
 carriage, it was Daisy who threw the old shoe after them and 
 said to Sir George, — 
 
 " She doesn't think herself married even now." 
 The peasantry were demonstrative enough at the marriage of 
 their pastor, and rang the bells, and shouted vigorously ; but it 
 yet remained to be seen what they were really capable of. The 
 kindly, hospitable, impressionable Welsh, sympathise with all 
 the births, marriages, and deaths that happen in their midst. 
 They had wept over Lord Penruddock's untimely death, they 
 were ready to rejoice at Caradoc Pennant's wedding. And 
 they did rejoice with a will ; for not only were he and his 
 family especial favourites, but they were genuine ancient 
 
 Britons, with blood untainted by alien streams. Moreover, 
 
 3S1
 
 382 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 though centuries had passed since Craigavon Castle had be- 
 longed to a Pennant, it had belonged to one ; and Caradoc 
 was a deserving descendant, who would succeed, in right of his 
 wife, to the property. He would not make the worse landlord, 
 they argued, because his forefathers had tilled and enriched 
 the soil he was to own. And then Daisy had been bred 
 amongst them, and would be the most generous of mistresses ; 
 and as to Sir George, he was winning golden opinions. 
 
 So the rusty cannon were hauled forth from the Castle, and 
 placed upon the rocks over the sea; bonfires were laid on the 
 hills ; arches of evergreens and flowers erected from ancient 
 Castle to ancient church ; and all was done that affectionate 
 hearts could do to show love and loyalty to the present owner 
 of Craigavon. 
 
 On the auspicious morning, Daisy was aroused by the sound 
 of the cannon, and her first thought was that she was soon to be, 
 in very deed, a Pennant ; her next that grandfather had, after 
 much entreaty, consented to come to the Castle. 
 
 The old church was a goodly sight that day. Crowds of 
 peasants, in holiday garb, filled it and the graveyard, amongst 
 whom were the improved and improving inhabitants of Monad. 
 Evan the Tower, and Davy Jones the wrecker, and many 
 another of equally evil repute, were there, and Daisy and 
 Michael's school-children lined the way. A huge miscellaneous 
 crowd of people it was, ready to make merry and rejoice. 
 
 Great was the shouting when all the Pennants arrived. The 
 old man, white with years ; David, stalwart and hearty again ; 
 his wife, round-faced and open-eyed as ever ; Michael, pale but 
 glad ; the Master in a brand-new suit ; and Caradoc, proud 
 indeed, as bridegroom-elect. They had all walked quietly over 
 the hill, and arrived early. They were soon succeeded by the 
 carriages from the Castle. 
 
 " Is grandfather here ? " asked Daisy, as she walked through 
 the crowds, leaning on her father's arm. 
 
 When she saw the old man's silvery head, she was happy, for 
 she knew no one else would fail.
 
 TWO WEDDINGS. 383 
 
 The marriage was as impressive as it was simple. Carad and 
 Daisy, loving well, and well beloved, were united by a friend 
 interested in them from childhood, and surrounded by people 
 whose warm hearts beat in sympathy with theirs, and whose 
 prayers ascended to heaven for their future well-doing and 
 being. 
 
 "Our Llygad y dydd do look beautiful, indeed, and quite the 
 lady ! There's grand her white satin dress and lace veil is ! " 
 whispered one spectator to another. " True for you \ but not 
 grander or handsomer than Cradoc Pennant. Sure, there's 
 lucky the Pennants are ! but no more than they deserve ! " 
 responded another. " Sir George is a fine man, too, consider- 
 ing. I was thinking it was to be Michael ; but Cradoc's 
 fittest," volunteered a third. " He's as tall as the Earl, and a 
 sight handsomer, and he do look you in the face." 
 
 And so it was, here as elsewhere — "The king is dead. Long 
 live the king ! " 
 
 There was a mighty shout when the bride and bridegroom 
 threaded the crowds to the carriage. 
 
 Daisy responded to the " God bless them ! " with nods and 
 smiles, and was even stayed in her path to shake hands with one 
 or two old people. Davy Jones was especially persistent, and 
 planted himself on his sticks at the gate, in order to say, as she 
 passed — " On my deed, I'm a-going to be religious, Miss fetch" 
 an assurance which gave Daisy unfeigned pleasure. 
 
 "You should be saying 'your ladyship,' now," said old Betto 
 the Tower, who was planted hard by, in spite of the rheumatics. 
 
 When the grand carriage, with the four white horses and 
 wedding favours, drove off, it was Sir George's turn to be busy, 
 and the comments and shouts redoubled. 
 
 "That's what I'm calling a gentleman ! See you how he is 
 arming Mrs. Pennant to his carriage ; and there's careful he is 
 of the old man," said one. 
 
 "And look you at David Pennant Brynhafod, and Michael ! 
 all going into the Castle carriages. Sir George deserves to be 
 a Welshman ! " said another.
 
 384 THE PENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 " We shall be knowing where to go for help in hard times," 
 suggested a fisherman's wife. " He says he'll do for all as 
 choose to live respectable." 
 
 " He was telling me so himself," remarked Evan, with the 
 manner of a martyr. " And, says I, a man couldn't be a man 
 with his lordship the Earl." 
 
 Sir George did, indeed, show himself a loving father, and 
 generous benefactor on his daughter's wedding-day. Good and 
 bad, well-clad and ill-clad, were alike invited to the festivities 
 he prepared ; and the Castle was once more the scene of rejoic- 
 ings. Mountains and rocks re-echoed to the merriment of the 
 peasantry and sea-farers, while the boisterous spring-tide leapt 
 for joy. It was just such a bracing day as Carad and Daisy 
 loved ; and when they reached the Castle, they stood a few 
 moments to listen to the merry church bells, the shouts, the 
 music, and the waves, as they mingled in a chorus of distant 
 sound. 
 
 " It seems all a dream," whispered Daisy, her beautiful face 
 flushing through her veil. 
 
 " It shall grow into a reality as time goes on," replied Cara- 
 doc, pressing the dear hand he held. " And we will strive to 
 be faithful and true to your father and to God." 
 
 With these words they entered the Castb, henceforth to be 
 their home.
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 MUCH good sprang out of much evil in the manor of 
 Craigavon. Sir George Walpole, aided by his son-in- 
 law and daughter, set to work earnestly to repair the ills the 
 Earl had done. As the young people knew the root of all these 
 ills, by their experience of Lord Craigavon's practices, they were 
 able to advise the now too-liberal lord of the manor ; and as 
 the main object of the trio was to do good, they found little 
 difficulty in effecting it. The beacon on the Esgair was 
 naturally their first great work, and this they were particular in 
 publishing as the Earl's memorial to his drowned son. As time 
 went on, and the work progressed, they received intimations 
 from his lordship that he would maintain it when completed ; 
 and Caradoc had the happiness of seeing his rough contrivance 
 replaced by a small but efficient lighthouse on the Esgair. 
 This, and Sir George's stringent measures, gradually put a stop 
 to the atrocious practice of wrecking, and enabled ships to pass 
 the quicksands safely. The fishermen's huts at Monad were 
 either repaired, or abandoned for better dwellings ; and they 
 were induced to lead more respectable lives, partly from fear, 
 partly from interest or inclination. This desirable change was 
 much aided by Adam Perceval, who took possession of Twr 
 Aran. Doors and glass windows turned the Tower into a habit- 
 able dwelling ; and the Master as commander-in-chief, with 
 Caradoc as frequent inspector, made good use of the telescopes 
 originally placed there for nefarious practices. Instead of look- 
 ing out for wrecks, they watched to prevent them. In this 
 tower, once the storehouse of theft, and the resort of rats and 
 
 385 cc
 
 3S6 THE TENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 mice, literary and scientific work went on, and the Master's 
 first book was followed by others, in which the name of Caradcc 
 Pennant not unfrequently figured. 
 
 The vicarage was also a bulwark against bad practices. As 
 it was near the Tower, and overlooked the defile leading to the 
 sea, Mr. Tudor was enabled to help Adam Perceval. He and 
 his wife worked together to repair his somewhat desultory past ; 
 and the once timid Miss Manent became a very Gorgon of a 
 Vicaress — forcing recreant mariners to church, hauling then- 
 children to school, and seeing that the Sabbath was well kept. 
 They had, moreover, by-and-by, a house full of children of their 
 own to teach and feed, and David Pennant was wont to say 
 that the Vicar was making up for lost time in more ways than 
 one. 
 
 As to Brynhafod, it continued the even tenor of its way. 
 David Pennant, as churchwarden, helped by Sir George and the 
 parish generally, repaired the fine and ancient church, and 
 before old Mr. Pennant was laid quietly to his rest in the 
 secluded graveyard, he had the happiness of seeing it re-opened 
 for Divine service. Michael continued his labours as lay 
 preacher and teacher, and his powers of usefulness increased 
 with his health. He went less often to the Castle than its 
 inmates wished ; but there is no doubt that his love for Daisy 
 had become, in truth, only that of a brother. 
 
 Few days passed, however, that he and Daisy did not meet. 
 She was constant in her visits to the farm and school, regular in 
 her ministrations to the poor. She might be seen, at all hours 
 and in all weathers, as of old, breasting the sea and mountain 
 breezes, either on foot or horseback, and usually on errands of 
 mercy or on visits to her friends at Brynhafod, the vicarage, or 
 the Tower. Sometimes her husband, or father, or both, were 
 with her, and sometimes she was alone; but whether accom- 
 panied or solitary, she was blessed wherever she went. When 
 she had children of her own, her desire was to bring them up 
 as simply and religiously as she had been herself brought up, 
 and in this she was seconded by Sir George and Caradoc.
 
 CONCLUSION. 3S7 
 
 Let it not be supposed that these gentlemen led idle lives. 
 It is as rr.rd work to spend money well as to earn it, and they 
 both laboured for the former end. Sir George soon became as 
 popular with his equals as his inferiors, and Caradoc took rank 
 with him. The latter djvoted much time to the poor, and to 
 the patient study of how best to ameliorate their condition. 
 Me became a magistrate, and was celebrated through the country 
 for his justice as well as gentleness. Knowing the language 
 well, he was able to sift right from wrong, which it was often 
 difficult, even for the best-intentioned of his coadjutors, less apt 
 at Welsh, to do. He was recognised by such as were troubled 
 with aristocratic pride, as a Pennant, and the lineal descendant 
 of the last owner of Craigavon of that name, and accordingly 
 admitted into the sacred circle of exclusive society. When, in 
 the course of years, he was urged by rich and poor to stand for 
 his native county — an honour declined by Sir George Walpole 
 — he was not unprepared for the office pressed upon him. He 
 had been born and bred amongst the people he was asked to 
 represent, and was thoroughly acquainted with them, their 
 customs, prejudices, and above all, their wants. Although he 
 said to Daisy that the honour was " thrust upon him," and 
 undeserved, she did not think so; and with wifely pride, and 
 reverence for the qualities she knew he possessed, she, as well 
 as her father, urged him to accept the offered responsibility. 
 He did so very diffidently ; and when he was returned as 
 member of Parliament, with little or no opposition, the cry of 
 his countrymen was, " Well done ! A Pennant is the right man 
 in the right place ! " 
 
 After this brief sketch of the most important part of life, 
 some may ask, "And what of the Earl of Craigavon and his 
 daughter ? " So little was known that there is little to tell. His 
 lordship led the life of a recluse on his Scotch estate, visited 
 from time to time by the Lady Mona, but never by her husband. 
 Her ladyship kept up a desultory correspondence with Daisy, 
 and she always alluded to her father, saying that he was silent 
 and sad, and did not recover from her brother's loss. She con-
 
 3%$ THE TENNANT FAMILY. 
 
 tinued to reside in London, and appeared tolerably happy. 
 She had no children, i nd she and the Earl were therefore the 
 last cf their race. He was still reputed a miser by the multi- 
 tude ; but his successors at Craigavon Castle, his daughter and 
 one or two others, believed that he was striving in his solitude 
 to atone for the past ; while God, who " seeth not as man 
 seeth," alone knew that the fearful judgment with which He 
 had visited him resulted in a life-long and heart-broken repent- 
 ance. 
 
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