the eyebrows were peculiarly fine-arched, and black; and a beard of patriarchal proportions hid the narrow chin, and half covered the broad chest.

Hugh's soft, distant music seemed to be burying the antiquary in profound thought.

'How well he plays,' said Mrs. Rhys, speaking rather to herself than to him, and scarcely expecting him to hear her; but at the sound of her voice the dreamy and somewhat sad face without looking towards her became attentive, anxious, wistful. It was like the face of a judge who feels that he must weigh the slightest gesture, word, tone, or look of a prisoner, as evidence from which to make a sentence of life or death.

Catherine had now become in a manner accustomed to this terrible judgment overhanging her; she had felt it, had suffered under it from the moment when Cunliff left her, to meet her husband alone, after that last interview at the Maiden's Lake.

Mr. Rhys had hinted at no suspicion from that minute to this, when they sat together listening to Hugh's playing. Yet she knew as well what had been in his mind as if he had told her in words, how after hearing her talking with some one on the day of his return, his finding her alone had greatly surprised him; how he waited for some explanation from her, and how her continued silence on that point made him suffer. She had striven, no human creature knew how hard, to ward off such an explanation, knowing it could bring forth only misery for both. She tried to forget her own suffering, and to make their reunion as happy as possible, that he might dread to sadden it by any expression of his doubts. And he did dread doing so; her timid advances were so sweet to him, hiding his suspicion as opening rose-leaves hide a thorn; so that it was only when his heart received them with the old passion that he felt it still there, and still sharp and poisonous.

Looking up from her task at her husband's trouble-averted face, she asked herself how long this could last, how long they could both bear it. And how must it end? Must she throw herself at his feet and tell him all before there could be peace for either? Perhaps he would not believe in her or forgive her, and then what would her life be? How then could her thoughts be kept from the one who did so well know her, and believe in, and love her? No, she must trust to her own courage and patience, and to time; confession, on the chance of her truth being doubted, was too desperate a risk.

Her greatest longing now was to do something to please him. She wished she could play to him like Hugh, or help him with his translations. How much she might do for him now that his young assistant was going away, if she had not been so ignorant of his beloved language, and all those things he cared for most!

'I am sorry your clever secretary is going away, Owen,' she said, bending low over her painting. I had almost made up my mind to ask you to let him teach me Welsh.'

The grave face lighted with sudden pleasure and surprise, which scarcely was perceptible in the voice as it said—

Is it my ability or patience you doubt, that you don't think me fit to be your teacher, Catherine ?'

'My ability and your patience,' she replied, smiling. 'I don't think it would take many experiments to remove both doubts from your mind-but do you wish it seriously? 'Not only seriously, but anxiously, Owen. Will you teach me?' And she laid down her brush, and looked full at him, with yearning eyes, tearful but strong, that seemed to declare how much more she would fain do, if it were possible, to remove the cloud that had come between them.

The expression of her face and voice moved him much. He rose and went to her.

'It used to be the custom,' he said, lifting her hand in a very courtly manner, for pupils to kiss their teacher's hand. Let me reverse the custom, Catherine, and thank you with all my heart.'

She smiled with almost all her old brightness, and rising, slipped her hand in his arm, saying

And now you must not keep Hugh Morgan waiting any longer. But I may come with you, may I not? I should like to thank him for playing for me so often last year; and give him some little remembrance, that he may not go telling everybody his patron has a stingy English wife.'

Hugh heard their voices and brought his farewell rhapsody to a close.

He looked so slim and boyish as he came down from the daïs, that Mrs. Rhys felt quite a warm pity at the thought of what his family must suffer, at sending him alone into a world so utterly strange to him as London.

'You have been playing very charmingly, my lad,' she said. 'I am almost as sorry as Mr. Rhys to lose you.'

Hugh blushed scarlet with pleasure, as he made his bow. 'And so, Hugh,' said his patron, shaking hands with him, 'you are going the way of all our young men of talentdeserting Cambria at the call of England-eh? '

6

Rather, sir, at the call of fortune. What can I possibly do here but starve ?'

'Ah, yes; that is true. It was different though in the old days, when our country was as a very light among the nations; and when to come to Wales rather than to go from it was the aim of the young, the ambitious, and of those whom God had gifted with a spark of his own nature, that which we call awen-the English genius.'

‘Ah, sir, I shall hear no more about those old days, but I am always dreaming about them, and wondering if they can ever be brought back.'

'Never, Hugh-never! But this you may do-help to make the world understand what we have been, and what we are. Ah-how we forget things! I remember now. I meant to have read you a little paper I have been preparing in my leisure hours, a sort of preliminary sketch for a more elaborate essay some day to be prepared.'

Is it, sir, too much to ask that I might hear it now?' 'Not now, Hugh; not now. Mrs. Rhys loves Wales, I am sure-but she may be readily excused for not caring to hear prosy narratives about Britons and Saxons, and—'

'Owen,' she interposed, speaking earnestly, 'will you believe me if I say you could hardly give me a greater pleasure than to read this paper to Hugh and to me?'

He looked at her a moment in surprise, then a scarcely perceptible colour stole into his cheek; and when he spoke again it was with a smile of quite youthful unaffected gratification that she saw, and was in turn deeply affected by.

'But you know, Catherine-' he began, as if he could not even yet venture to realise as his own the pleasure he felt.

'I know, Owen, I have been very silly and ungrateful in past times, when you have sought to interest me in things that interested you. Let our young friend hear and condemn me for the confession if he pleases, that I have too often irreverently laughed, or indecently yawned, when, as I now see, I might have drunk in not simply instruction, but solace and agreeable occupation for those hours which pass so dangerously, if not profitably employed.'

These last words were said in so low a tone that Hugh

could not clearly distinguish them, but not a syllable—not an accent-not a tone was lost upon Mr. Rhys.

He gazed at her as if asking, as alone he could ask, with his eyes, what all this implied, and, strange to say, his gaze was

the first to falter.

He went first to one cabinet, then to another, as if seeking his paper, but his wife saw he was struggling with the new hopes her words had conveyed.

Presently he came back stately, measured, composed as ever, and taking her hand as if to place her in a chair by his side, he pressed it for one moment tenderly, and felt that pressure responded to.

He felt half inclined to dismiss Cambria, the paper, and Hugh altogether, and use the blessed opportunity offered for trying to come to an understanding with his wife, whom he felt to be dearer than ever; but he controlled the impulse, while half afraid he should regret afterwards the testing her new docility and patience too much.

'Well, Hugh,' he said turning to him, as he took his own seat, which he turned away a little from his wife, as if not caring to risk the watching of her countenance as he read; 'well, Hugh, since Mrs. Rhys is so good as to indulge us in a bit of self-gratification, I suppose I must venture to read this sketch I so imprudently, perhaps, mentioned; not that I can hope it possesses the eloquence, the profound research as regards materials, or the literary skill that disposes of them to the best advantage, that adorn and vivify a subject; but simply in the hope that you, like another David, may find here and there among my facts and remarks, a pebble or two with which to hit that modern Goliath-Anglo-Saxondom.'

He had seated Catherine in his own stately chair at the end of the table, and taken his place opposite to her, while Hugh sat on the daïs step, his downcast eyes beaming with unbounded pleasure. It seemed like the days of bardic glory come round again, indeed, for him to be sitting there in the presence of the learned and proud master, and beautiful mistress of Dola' Hudol, and listening to a discourse on a topic of such inexhaustible interest to him.

The lad's simple enthusiasın, and the sweet attentiveness of Catherine's face, inspired the antiquary's calm, grave features and voice with unusual energy as he read, dashing at once into his subject.1

1 See Appendix at the end of the book.

CHAPTER XX.

HUGH MAKES MISCHIEF.

HOWEVER weary older and wiser persons might have grown during the reading of the paper, it is certain it had sufficient interest for the antiquarian's young listeners to hold their attention throughout.

While Hugh sat in open-mouthed astonishment at some of the facts he had just heard, Mrs. Rhys said, almost gayly-'Well, Owen, you have made one convert at all events-Hugh Morgan, be you witness, I am henceforward Anglo-Celt.'

Mr. Rhys was happier than he had been for many long months. During the last hour all the threatening storm seemed passing from above him, leaving serene beauty and sunshine.

Hugh, to whom he felt he partly owed the pleasant opportunity by which he had gained, for the first time, his wife's earnest attention and clear appreciation, was soon to feel the effects of his patron's altered mood.

As he received his parting shake of the hand he found a piece of paper left in his own.

Hugh coloured deeply as he opened it and saw that it was a ten-pound note.

Oh, sir,' he said, bluntly, would it seem very ungrateful to ask another favour instead of this?'

'Not to ask another favour, Hugh, certainly; but why in place of this?'

Celt or

'He is discontented,' he thought; of course, because I've done so much for him, he thinks I ought to do more. Saxon, they're all alike for gratitude."

But he was wrong; for Hugh was grateful to him, and never thought there was any bitter inconsistency in his patron's kindness for teaching him, first, that the whole charm and essence of life lay in the love and cultivation of noble and beautiful things-patriotism, chivalrous sentiment, music, poetry, art and awakening in his soul a passion for such things that could only pass away with his life, and then letting him go to spend the best years of his youth on an officestool for fifteen shillings a week.

'I could not ask it, sir, unless you let it be in place of this, that is, if you can grant it.' And Hugh coloured again, and pushed the note farther on the table.