As to the hint which Martha Thomas
had thrown out, it is enough to say that Nest was very giddy, and that
she was motherless. She had high spirits and a great love of admiration,
or, to use a softer term, she loved to please; men, women, and children,
all, she delighted to gladden with her smile and voice. She coquetted,
and flirted, and went to the extreme lengths of Welsh courtship, till the
seniors of the village shook their heads, and cautioned their daughters
against her acquaintance. If not absolutely guilty, she had too
frequently been on the verge of guilt. Even at the time, Martha Thomas’s hint made but little impression on
Owen, for his senses were otherwise occupied; but in a few days the
recollection thereof had wholly died away, and one warm glorious summer’s
day, he bent his steps toward Ellis Pritchard’s with a beating heart;
for, except some very slight flirtations at Oxford, Owen had never been
touched; his thoughts, his fancy, had been otherwise engaged. Ty Glas was built against one of the lower rocks of Moel Gêst, which,
indeed, formed a side to the low, lengthy house. The materials of the
cottage were the shingly stones which had fallen from above, plastered
rudely together, with deep recesses for the small oblong windows. Altogether, the exterior was much ruder than Owen had expected; but
inside there seemed no lack of comforts. The house was divided into two
apartments, one large, roomy, and dark, into which Owen entered
immediately; and before the blushing Nest came from the inner chamber
(for she had seen the young Squire coming, and hastily gone to make some
alteration in her dress), he had had time to look around him, and note
the various little particulars of the room. Beneath the window (which
commanded a magnificent view) was an oaken dresser, replete with drawers
and cupboards, and brightly polished to a rich dark colour. In the
farther part of the room Owen could at first distinguish little, entering
as he did from the glaring sunlight, but he soon saw that there were two
oaken beds, closed up after the manner of the Welsh: in fact, the
domitories of Ellis Pritchard and the man who served under him, both on
sea and on land. There was the large wheel used for spinning wool, left
standing on the middle of the floor, as if in use only a few minutes
before; and around the ample chimney hung flitches of bacon, dried
kids’-flesh, and fish, that was in process of smoking for winter’s store. Before Nest had shyly dared to enter, her father, who had been mending
his nets down below, and seen Owen winding up to the house, came in and
gave him a hearty yet respectful welcome; and then Nest, downcast and
blushing, full of the consciousness which her father’s advice and
conversation had not failed to inspire, ventured to join them. To Owen’s
mind this reserve and shyness gave her new charms. It was too bright, too hot, too anything to think of going to shoot teal
till later in the day, and Owen was delighted to accept a hesitating
invitation to share the noonday meal. Some ewe-milk cheese, very hard
and dry, oat-cake, slips of the dried kids’-flesh broiled, after having
been previously soaked in water for a few minutes, delicious butter and
fresh butter-milk, with a liquor called “diod griafol” (made from the
berries of the _Sorbus aucuparia_, infused in water and then fermented),
composed the frugal repast; but there was something so clean and neat,
and withal such a true welcome, that Owen had seldom enjoyed a meal so
much. Indeed, at that time of day the Welsh squires differed from the
farmers more in the plenty and rough abundance of their manner of living
than in the refinement of style of their table. At the present day, down in Llyn, the Welsh gentry are not a wit behind
their Saxon equals in the expensive elegances of life; but then (when
there was but one pewter-service in all Northumberland) there was nothing
in Ellis Pritchard’s mode of living that grated on the young Squire’s
sense of refinement. Little was said by that young pair of wooers during the meal; the father
had all the conversation to himself, apparently heedless of the ardent
looks and inattentive mien of his guest. As Owen became more serious in
his feelings, he grew more timid in their expression, and at night, when
they returned from their shooting-excursion, the caress he gave Nest was
almost as bashfully offered as received. This was but the first of a series of days devoted to Nest in reality,
though at first he thought some little disguise of his object was
necessary. The past, the future, was all forgotten in those happy days
of love. And every worldly plan, every womanly wile was put in practice by Ellis
Pritchard and his daughter, to render his visits agreeable and alluring. Indeed, the very circumstance of his being welcome was enough to attract
the poor young man, to whom the feeling so produced was new and full of
charms. He left a home where the certainty of being thwarted made him
chary in expressing his wishes; where no tones of love ever fell on his
ear, save those addressed to others; where his presence or absence was a
matter of utter indifference; and when he entered Ty Glas, all, down to
the little cur which, with clamorous barkings, claimed a part of his
attention, seemed to rejoice. His account of his day’s employment found
a willing listener in Ellis; and when he passed on to Nest, busy at her
wheel or at her churn, the deepened colour, the conscious eye, and the
gradual yielding of herself up to his lover-like caress, had worlds of
charms. Ellis Pritchard was a tenant on the Bodowen estate, and
therefore had reasons in plenty for wishing to keep the young Squire’s
visits secret; and Owen, unwilling to disturb the sunny calm of these
halcyon days by any storm at home, was ready to use all the artifice
which Ellis suggested as to the mode of his calls at Ty Glas. Nor was he
unaware of the probable, nay, the hoped-for termination of these repeated
days of happiness. He was quite conscious that the father wished for
nothing better than the marriage of his daughter to the heir of Bodowen;
and when Nest had hidden her face in his neck, which was encircled by her
clasping arms, and murmured into his ear her acknowledgment of love, he
felt only too desirous of finding some one to love him for ever. Though
not highly principled, he would not have tried to obtain Nest on other
terms save those of marriage: he did so pine after enduring love, and
fancied he should have bound her heart for evermore to his, when they had
taken the solemn oaths of matrimony. There was no great difficulty attending a secret marriage at such a place
and at such a time. One gusty autumn day, Ellis ferried them round
Penthryn to Llandutrwyn, and there saw his little Nest become future Lady
of Bodowen. How often do we see giddy, coquetting, restless girls become sobered by
marriage?