'I tell you what,young person,'said I,'I know all about that book;what will you wager that I do not?'
'I never wager,'said the girl.
'Shall I tell you the name of it,'said I,'O daughter of the dairy?'
The girl half started.'I should never have thought,'said she,half timidly,'that you could have guessed it.'
'I did not guess it,'said I,'I knew it;and meet and proper it is that you should read it.'
'Why so?'said the girl.
'Can the daughter of the dairy read a more fitting book than the DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER?'
'Where do you come from?'said the girl.
'Out of the water,'said I.'Don't start,I have been bathing;are you fond of the water?'
'No,'said the girl,heaving a sigh;'I am not fond of the water,that is,of the sea';and here she sighed again.
'The sea is a wide gulf,'said I,'and frequently separates hearts.'
The girl sobbed.
'Why are you alone here?'said I.
'I take my turn with the rest,'said the girl,'to keep at home on Sunday.'
'And you are-'said I.
'The master's niece!'said the girl.'How came you to know it?
But why did you not go with the rest and with your friends?'
'Who are those you call my friends?'said I.
'Peter and his wife.'
'And who are they?'said I.
'Do you not know?'said the girl;'you came with them.'
'They found me ill by the way,'said I;'and they relieved me:I know nothing about them.'
'I thought you knew everything,'said the girl.
'There are two or three things which I do not know,and this is one of them.Who are they?'
'Did you never hear of the great Welsh preacher,Peter Williams?'
'Never,'said I.
'Well,'said the girl,'this is he,and Winifred is his wife,and a nice person she is.Some people say,indeed,that she is as good a preacher as her husband,though of that matter I can say nothing,having never heard her preach.So these two wander over all Wales and the greater part of England,comforting the hearts of the people with their doctrine,and doing all the good they can.They frequently come here,for the mistress is a Welsh woman,and an old friend of both,and then they take up their abode in the cart beneath the old oaks down there by the stream.'
'And what is their reason for doing so?'said I;'would it not be more comfortable to sleep beneath a roof?'
'I know not their reasons,'said the girl,'but so it is;they never sleep beneath a roof unless the weather is very severe.Ionce heard the mistress say that Peter had something heavy upon his mind;perhaps that is the cause.If he is unhappy,all I can say is,that I wish him otherwise,for he is a good man and a kind-'
'Thank you,'said I,'I will now depart.'
'Hem!'said the girl,'I was wishing-'
'What?to ask me a question?'
'Not exactly;but you seem to know everything;you mentioned,I think,fortune-telling.'
'Do you wish me to tell your fortune?'
'By no means;but I have a friend at a distance at sea,and I should wish to know-'
'When he will come back?I have told you already there are two or three things which I do not know-this is another of them.
However,I should not be surprised if he were to come back some of these days;I would if I were in his place.In the meantime be patient,attend to the dairy,and read the DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER when you have nothing better to do.'
It was late in the evening when the party of the morning returned.
The farmer and his family repaired at once to their abode,and my two friends joined me beneath the tree.Peter sat down at the foot of the oak,and said nothing.Supper was brought by a servant,not the damsel of the porch.We sat round the tray,Peter said grace,but scarcely anything else;he appeared sad and dejected,his wife looked anxiously upon him.I was as silent as my friends;after a little time we retired to our separate places of rest.
About midnight I was awakened by a noise;I started up and listened;it appeared to me that I heard voices and groans.In a moment I had issued from my tent-all was silent-but the next moment I again heard groans and voices;they proceeded from the tilted cart where Peter and his wife lay;I drew near,again there was a pause,and then I heard the voice of Peter,in an accent of extreme anguish,exclaim,'Pechod Ysprydd Glan-O pechod Ysprydd Glan!'and then he uttered a deep groan.Anon,I heard the voice of Winifred,and never shall I forget the sweetness and gentleness of the tones of her voice in the stillness of that night.I did not understand all she said-she spoke in her native language,and I was some way apart;she appeared to endeavour to console her husband,but he seemed to refuse all comfort,and,with many groans,repeated-'Pechod Ysprydd Glan-O pechod Ysprydd Glan!'
I felt I had no right to pry into their afflictions,and retired.
Now 'pechod Ysprydd Glan,'interpreted,is the sin against the Holy Ghost.
