Part 49 (1/2)

'You live in the village?'

'There is no village, sir. I live at Glanyravon Farm.'

'Is there any inn nearer than the ”Coach and Horses” where I might get a night's lodging, and a man to ride the mare back?'

'No, sir; but I shall be glad to offer a bed to any friend of Mr Gwynne's, though I am sure you'll find one at the Park.'

'Thank you kindly. I am not known to Mr Gwynne; but I am going to see Miss Hall, who, I believe, resides with him.'

'To be seure she does; and a better lady never lived. If you're a friend of Miss Hall's, you're as welcome to our house as if you were born and bred at Glanyravon.'

'You are very kind. It does one good to meet with true Welsh hospitality once more.'

'You're not Welsh, sir, I should say?'

'I was Welsh originally; but it would be difficult to make out my parish, as I have been wandering about for many years.'

'A clergyman, sir?'

'Yes, sir.'

The gentleman smiled, and thought the question savoured of American curiosity.

'I have a son a clergyman. Perhaps you may have fallen in with him. They tell me he's a very promising young man.'

'What is his name?'

'Prothero, sir--Rowland Prothero.'

'I do not know him personally, but I know him by reputation; he is curate of an old friend of mine, Mr Stephenson.'

'To be seure--Rowly's rector! Allow me to shake hands with you, sir.

You'll sleep at Glanyravon.'

'Certainly, if I shall not inconvenience you and your family. Your daughter looks very ill and tired; perhaps it may--'

'Not a bit, sir. She's not my daughter; she always looks as pale as moonlight, 'scept when she blushes up; she'll see to a bed for a strange gentleman, and so'll my missus. To think of your knowing Mr Stephenson!'

'Yes, I saw him during my short stay in town, and he told me he had a capital curate, a countryman of mine. A regular hard-working, useful parish priest, he called him; a good preacher besides!'

'Well, mother will be pleased, won't she, Gladys?'

This was said in the old good-humoured way, and Gladys brightened up as she answered,--

'Yes, sir, very.'

'Are you ill?' said the stranger, looking at Gladys with sudden interest.

'No, sir, thank you; I am only rather tired,' was the reply.