"'Meurig,' she said, and she put out her hand, which I took in mine.
Even while I held her hand I noticed on her bed a bunch of sweet
violets which I had seen Lewis gather in the morning.--'Meurig, why
have you been cold to me?' she asked, while her hand still lay in mine.
'If I have ever done anything to displease you, will you not forgive
me, and kiss your little child?' and she looked down at your little
head lying on her arm beside her. Oh, Caradoc, God alone knows the
tumult of feelings which overwhelmed me. I cannot describe them! I
stooped and kissed your little black head, and more, I stooped and
kissed her pale forehead.
"'I forgive you,' I said.
"'Is that all?' she said.
"And as I hesitated, the old haughty flush rose to her forehead, and
turning her head on her pillow, she said, 'I am tired now, and want to
sleep.' "So I turned away and closed the door gently, and I never saw her alive
again, for that night she died suddenly. Swiftly the Angel of Death
came, at her call. I believe it, Caradoc, for Dr. Hughes who was
sent for hurriedly, declared he knew of no reason why she should not
have lived.
"'I think she would have recovered, Wynne,' he said, 'had she wished
to; but where there is no wish to live sometimes the powers of life
fail, and the patient dies. Why she did not wish to live I do not
know--perhaps you do,' and my old friend turned from me with a
coldness in his manner, which has remained there ever since."
The Vicar sank into his chair again, as if the memory of his early
trials had fatigued him, and Cardo, rising and approaching him, drew
his hand gently over his black hair besprinkled with white. His son's
tenderness seemed to reach the old man's heart.
Burying his face in his hands he gulped down a sob before he continued: "Wait a minute, Cardo, you will not pity me when you have heard all my
story. With the earliest dawn I rushed out of the house, which seemed
to stifle me. I longed for the cool morning breezes, and God forgive
me, if I thought too with longing of the cool sandy reaches that lay
under the rippling waters of the bay! On the brow of the hill I met
Essec Powell, who was out early to see a sick cow, and there, while my
heart was sore to agony, and my brain was tortured to distraction, that
man reproached me and insolently dared to call me to account for 'my
inhuman conduct to my wife!' "'Ach y fi! What are you? he said, with his strong Welsh accent, 'are
you man or devil?' and he tore open the wounds which were already
galling me unbearably. 'You bring a young girl from a happy home,
where she was indulged and petted, and in a year's time you have broken
her spirit, and you will break her heart. Because her brute of an
uncle forbids his own daughter to go near her--my sister, her old
schoolfellow, goes to see her in her trouble, and you turn her out of
your house. I have longed for the opportunity of telling you what I
thought of you, and of what all the world thinks of you.' "I was a strong man, and he was a weak and shrivelled creature; I could
have tossed him over the rocks into the sea below. It required a very
strong effort to control my fury, but I did do so, and I turned away
without answering him, except by a cold, haughty look. I hated him,
Caradoc, and I have hated him ever since. He had not then heard of
Agnes's death, but the news flew fast through the neighbourhood, and I
knew I was everywhere looked upon as her murderer!