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The sweetbrier bush may even yet be seen; old and gray; which she and

Owen planted a green slipling beneath the window of her little

chamber。  In those moments Owen forgot all besides the present; all

the cares and griefs he had known in the past; and all that might

await him of woe and death in the future。  The boy; too; was as

lovely a child as the fondest parent was ever blessed with; and

crowed with delight; and clapped his little hands; as his mother held

him in her arms at the cottage…door to watch his father's ascent up

the rough path that led to Ty Glas; one bright autumnal morning; and

when the three entered the house together; it was difficult to say

which was the happiest。  Owen carried his boy; and tossed and played

with him; while Nest sought out some little article of work; and

seated herself on the dresser beneath the window; where now busily

plying the needle; and then again looking at her husband; she eagerly

told him the little pieces of domestic intelligence; the winning ways

of the child; the result of yesterday's fishing; and such of the

gossip of Penmorfa as came to the ears of the now retired Nest。  She

noticed that; when she mentioned any little circumstance which bore

the slightest reference to Bodowen; her husband appeared chafed and

uneasy; and at last avoided anything that might in the least remind

him of home。  In truth; he had been suffering much of late from the

irritability of his father; shown in trifles to be sure; but not the

less galling on that account。



While they were thus talking; and caressing each other and the child;

a shadow darkened the room; and before they could catch a glimpse of

the object that had occasioned it; it vanished; and Squire Griffiths

lifted the door…latch and stood before them。  He stood and looked

first on his son; so different; in his buoyant expression of content

and enjoyment; with his noble child in his arms; like a proud and

happy father; as he was; from the depressed; moody young man he too

often appeared at Bodowen; then on Nestpoor; trembling; sickened

Nest!who dropped her work; but yet durst not stir from her seat; on

the dresser; while she looked to her husband as if for protection

from his father。



The Squire was silent; as he glared from one to the other; his

features white with restrained passion。  When he spoke; his words

came most distinct in their forced composure。  It was to his son he

addressed himself:



〃That woman! who is she?〃



Owen hesitated one moment; and then replied; in a steady; yet quiet

voice:



〃Father; that woman is my wife。〃



He would have added some apology for the long concealment of his

marriage; have appealed to his father's forgiveness; but the foam

flew from Squire Owen's lips as he burst forth with invective against

Nest:…



〃You have married her!  It is as they told me!  Married Nest

Pritchard yr buten!  And you stand there as if you had not disgraced

yourself for ever and ever with your accursed wiving!  And the fair

harlot sits there; in her mocking modesty; practising the mimming

airs that will become her state as future Lady of Bodowen。  But I

will move heaven and earth before that false woman darken the doors

of my father's house as mistress!〃



All this was said with such rapidity that Owen had no time for the

words that thronged to his lips。  〃Father!〃 (he burst forth at

length) 〃Father; whosoever told you that Nest Pritchard was a harlot

told you a lie as false as hell!  Ay! a lie as false as hell!〃 he

added; in a voice of thunder; while he advanced a step or two nearer

to the Squire。  And then; in a lower tone; he said …



〃She is as pure as your own wife; nay; God help me! as the dear;

precious mother who brought me forth; and then left mewith no

refuge in a mother's heartto struggle on through life alone。  I

tell you Nest is as pure as that dear; dead mother!〃



〃Foolpoor fool!〃



At this moment the childthe little Owenwho had kept gazing from

one angry countenance to the other; and with earnest look; trying to

understand what had brought the fierce glare into the face where till

now he had read nothing but love; in some way attracted the Squire's

attention; and increased his wrath。



〃Yes;〃 he continued; 〃poor; weak fool that you are; hugging the child

of another as if it were your own offspring!〃  Owen involuntarily

caressed the affrighted child; and half smiled at the implication of

his father's words。  This the Squire perceived; and raising his voice

to a scream of rage; he went on:



〃I bid you; if you call yourself my son; to cast away that miserable;

shameless woman's offspring; cast it away this instantthis

instant!〃



In this ungovernable rage; seeing that Owen was far from complying

with his command; he snatched the poor infant from the loving arms

that held it; and throwing it to his mother; left the house

inarticulate with fury。



Nestwho had been pale and still as marble during this terrible

dialogue; looking on and listening as if fascinated by the words that

smote her heartopened her arms to receive and cherish her precious

babe; but the boy was not destined to reach the white refuge of her

breast。  The furious action of the Squire had been almost without

aim; and the infant fell against the sharp edge of the dresser down

on to the stone floor。



Owen sprang up to take the child; but he lay so still; so motionless;

that the awe of death came over the father; and he stooped down to

gaze more closely。  At that moment; the upturned; filmy eyes rolled

convulsivelya spasm passed along the bodyand the lips; yet warm

with kissing; quivered into everlasting rest。



A word from her husband told Nest all。  She slid down from her seat;

and lay by her little son as corpse…like as he; unheeding all the

agonizing endearments and passionate adjurations of her husband。  And

that poor; desolate husband and father!  Scarce one little quarter of

an hour; and he had been so blessed in his consciousness of love! the

bright promise of many years on his infant's face; and the new; fresh

soul beaming forth in its awakened intelligence。  And there it was;

the little clay image; that would never more gladden up at the sight

of him; nor stretch forth to meet his embrace; whose inarticulate;

yet most eloquent cooings might haunt him in his dreams; but would

never more be heard in waking life again!  And by the dead babe;

almost as utterly insensate; the poor mother had fallen in a merciful

faintthe slandered; heart…pierced Nest!  Owen struggled against the

sickness that came over him; and busied himself in vain attempts at

her restoration。



It was now near noon…day; and Ellis Pritchard came home; little

dreaming of the sight that awaited him; but though stunned; he was

able to take more effectual measures for his poor daughter's recovery

than Owen had done。



By…and…by she showed symptoms of returning sense; and was placed in

her own little bed in a darkened room; where; without ever waking to

complete consciousness; she fell asleep。  Then it was that her

husband; suffocated by pressure of miserable thought; gently drew his

hand from her tightened clasp; and printing one long soft kiss on her

white waxen forehead; hastily stole out of the room; and out of the

house。



Near the base of Moel Gestit might be a quarter of a mile from Ty

Glaswas a little neglected solitary copse; wild and tangled with

the trailing branches of the dog…rose and the tendrils of the white

bryony。  Toward the middle of this thicket a deep crystal poola

clear mirror for the blue heavens aboveand round the margin floated

the broad green leaves of the water…lily; and when the regal sun

shone down in his noonday glory the flowers arose from their cool

depths to welcome and greet him。  The copse was musical with many

sounds; the warbling of birds rejoicing in its shades; the ceaseless

hum of the insects that hovered over the pool; the chime of the

distant waterfall; the occasional bleating of the sheep from the

mountaintop; were all blended into the delicious harmony of nature。



It had been one of Owen's favourite resorts when he had been a lonely

wanderera pilgrim in search of love in the years gone by。  And

thither he went; as if by instinct; when he left Ty Glas; quelling

the uprising agony till he should reach that little solitary spot。



It was the time of day when a change in the aspect of the weather so

frequently takes place; and the little pool was no longer the

reflection of a blue and sunny sky:  it sent back the dark and slaty

clouds above; and; every now and then; a rough gust shook the painted

autumn leaves from their branches; and all other music was lost in

the sound of the wild winds piping down from the moorlands; which lay

up and beyond the clefts in the mountain…side。  Presently the rain

came on and beat down in torrents。



But Owen heeded it not。  He sat on the dank ground; h

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