Garthowen Part 34

It was Sara, who had risen with the first streak of dawn, and s.n.a.t.c.hing a hurried breakfast had left her foster-daughter asleep. She had lifted the lid of the coffer and had taken out the best half of her scarlet mantle, leaving the worn and faded half hanging Over the spinning wheel. "Morva would understand," she thought, "and would wash it and lay it away in the coffer until her return." A gown too she wore, instead of her peasant dress, a gown of red and black homespun, which had been her best when she was first married. On her head a black felt hat, with low crown, and slouching brim over her full bordered cap of frilled muslin. Strong shoes with bows on the instep, her crutch stick in her hand, and a little bundle of clothes tied up in a cotton handkerchief completed her outfit, and thus equipped she stole silently to the bedside where Morva lay, flushed with the heavy sleep of youth and health.

"My little daughter!" was all she said, but her eyes were full of tears as she pa.s.sed through the cwrt and took the sheep path which led to the top of the moor. Reaching the brow of the hill she turned into a narrow lane, over which the thorn bushes, just showing signs of their budding greenery, almost met together. Under their branches she made her way, to where the lane opened out to a gra.s.sy square, on which stood a tiny whitewashed cottage. The thatch reached low over the door, and its one window no bigger than a child's slate. There were no signs of life, but Sara did not hesitate to raise the wooden latch and open the door, which she found unbolted.

In the murky gloom of the cottage it was difficult at first to see where the bed lay, but as s.p.a.ce was circ.u.mscribed she had not far to look; in fact, one curtained side of the bed made the wall of the pa.s.sage, and she had but to turn round this to see an old and wrinkled face asleep on the pillow.

"I must wake her, pwr thing," said Sara, and she began to call softly, "Nani, Nani fach!"

The sleep of age is easily put to flight, and Nani opened her eyes.

"Sara ''spridion'!" she said, in astonishment. "Sara Lloyd, I mean, but I was dreaming, Sara dear. What is it?" and she sat up not a little disturbed, for Sara's name alone sufficed to arouse the latent fear of the "hysbis" or occult, always lurking in the Celtic mind.

Sara only smiled as the word "'spridion" escaped the frightened woman's lips.

"Is it time to get up?" she said, beginning to rub her eyes.

"No, no," said Sara, taking a seat by the bedside, and leaning upon her stick. "Lie still, Nani fach, and forgive me for awaking you, but I am going a journey, and a journey that won't wait."

"Oh, dear!" said Nani, "are you going by the old tren, then? As for me, I'm too frightened of it to go and see my own daughter. She's asked me many times, and I would have good living there, but I wouldn't venture in the tren for the whole world!"

"I'm not afraid of it," said Sara, "but I have never seen it. 'Twould be strange to me, and the s.h.i.+pping comes more natural, so I'm going to Caer-Madoc, for I know the steamer sails from there to Cardiff every Tuesday. I hope I will be there in time; but tell me, Nani, about Kitty your daughter."

"She is married again, and such a good husband she has. John Parry nearly killed her, pwr thing, and then he died, and she married this man--his name is Jones."

"But I want to know," said Sara, "did she say anything about Gethin Owens when she was here?"

"She said she was never seeing him, and she didn't know why he was keeping away from her, and the sailors were often seeing him about the docks, but she didn't know where he was lodging now. There's glad I was to see her; but indeed, Sara fach, it cost me a lot of money, 'cos she's got a good appet.i.te, whatever. 'Tis a great waste to come all that long way by the tren. She wants to come again, and if it wasn't for the money--"

Sara, who had no sympathy with the parsimony of many of her cla.s.s, rose to go.

"Well, I won't stop longer, Nani fach; good-bye and thank you."

When she saw her visitor was really going, Nani was profuse in her offers of hospitality.

"Going! Caton pawb! not without breakfast?"

But Sara was gone, and already making her way to the high road which led along the brow of the hill to Caer-Madoc. It was twenty years since she had last been in the town, and even in this remote place twenty years had brought changes--the busy streets, the shops, the cries of the vendors of herrings and c.o.c.kles, would have bewildered and puzzled her had she not been possessed by a strong purpose and sustained by that faith which can move mountains. Aided by old memories she found her way to the quay and to the small steamer with the long English name, which plied twice a week between the ports of Caer-Madoc and Cardiff.

"Are you going to Cardiff?" she asked the master, who stood on the quay.

"Why, yes, of course this is the day, and we are starting in a quarter of an hour. Who are you?" he said, looking with amused curiosity at the quaint figure with her crutch stick and black bundle.

"I am Sara Lloyd of Garthowen Moor, and I want to go with you to Cardiff. Will you take me?"

"Of course, little woman, if you can pay."

"Oh, yes," said Sara, undoing the corner of her pocket-handkerchief, "how much is it?" and she held out a half-sovereign.

"Eight s.h.i.+llings--you pay in there," and he pointed to a red painted shed, "but look you here, little woman, that big pocket doesn't suit such a place as Cardiff, 'tis too easily got at; tie your money up tight and put it inside the breast of your gown."

"Yes," said Sara, obeying, "and thank you."

"Look alive, then, and I will take you on board."

Sara found a seat near the prow of the s.h.i.+p.

"We'll have to tie a few weights to you by and by, I'm thinking, or you'll be blown away," said the captain, as he kindly arranged some boxes and baskets so as to shelter her a little from the strong March wind.

"Am I the only pa.s.senger?"

"Yes. 'Tis mostly goods we carry, but sometimes we have a stray pa.s.senger. And where would you be going now so far from Garthowen Moor in your old age?"

Welsh curiosity is a quant.i.ty that has to be taken into account.

"I am going to Cardiff."

"Yes, yes; but when you get there?"

"I don't know for sure."

The captain looked grave.

"You have a daughter, perhaps, or a son at Cardiff?"

"No, neither," said Sara. "'Tis the oldest son of Garthowen I am seeking for--Gethin Owens, have you ever seen him?"

"Gethin Owens!" said the captain, in a tone of surprise. "What? the dark brown chap with the white teeth and the bright eyes like a starling's?"--Sara nodded--"and gold rings in his ears?"

"That's him," said Sara. "Do you know him?"

"Caton pawb! as well as if he was my own son. He's mate of the _Gwenllian_, trading to Monte Video and other foreign parts. The _Gwenllian_ sailed about four months ago and would be back about now.

Is that what you are expecting?"

"Yes," said Sara, "Ebben Owens Garthowen is wearing his heart away longing for his son, and I think if I can see him I have news for him that will bring him to the old home."

"Well, well," said the captain, "little did I think the mate of the _Gwenllian_ was the son of my old friend Ebben Owens Garthowen! Why!

long ago I have been stopping with him, when he was a young man and I the same. I remember he was courting a handsome girl there, the finest la.s.s you ever set your eyes upon, straight she was, and tall, with brown hair and dark blue eyes, like the night sky with the stars in it; oh! she was a fine la.s.s, and she carried her pail on her head as straight as a willow wand," and the old captain clasped his own waist above the hips, and strutted about with an imaginary pail on his head.

"Well, I heard afterwards that Ebben Owens treated her shocking bad, and married another girl, with money, but they say he never cared for her, and was never happy with her; and serve him right, say I. Dear!

dear! how the time slips by!"

"Yes," said Sara, "he is an old man now, and in sore trouble. I live on his land, and I want to bring happiness back to Garthowen."

"Of course, of course!" said the captain, "but indeed; little woman, I'm afraid you'll have hard work, for there's something strange about that lad lately; he's keeping with the English sailors when he's in port and avoiding all his old companions. I have heard my son tell of him too, and how altered he is, and how angry the Welsh sailors are with him, but I believe he is stiddy and upright."

"Well," said Sara, "if I can only have a word with him 'twill be all right."

"Jar-i! you have pluck, little woman, and 'tis well to have a friend like you. Well, I'll do my best for you. I'll find you a night's lodging and somebody to show you the way about next day. Mrs. Jones, Bryn Street, would take you in; it's where I go myself when I do spend a night ash.o.r.e."

"A hundred thanks. That's where I'd like to go because I know her and her mother."