"'Yes; but, mind, my only reason for granting it,' said he, 'is that you appear to feel that I have taken an advantage of you.'

"'Well, then,' said I, 'I wish you on the back of your fiery dragon; and, then, that the dragon carry you straight to Llynfan, and that you both be drowned in that lake, and never appear to disturb me more.'

"When I had finished my wish there was a terrible clap of thunder, which shook the earth beneath me to its very foundation, and it was followed by a vivid flash of lightning which lit up the whole mountain; and, looking across the valley, I then saw both the dragon and its rider disappear in that fathomless llyn. When I saw this I dropped down upon the cold ground, and then poured forth my heart's thanksgivings to Him who had wrought me, through you, my dear pastor, so great, so glorious a victory."

[Picture: Pont Aberglaslyn]

CADWGAN WYNN; OR THE LOST INHERITANCE REGAINED.

Fled are the fairy views of hill and dale; Sublimely throned on the steep mountain brow.

Stern nature frowns: her desolating rage Driving the whirlwind, or swoln flood, or blast Of fiery air imprisoned, from their base Has wildly hurled the uplifted rocks around The gloomy pa.s.s, where Aberglaslyn's arch Yawns o'er the torrent. The disjointed crags O'er the steep precipice in fragments vast Impending, to the astonished mind recall The fabled horrors by demoniac force Of Lapland wizards wrought; who, borne upon The whirlwind's wing, what time the vexed sea Dashed 'gainst Norwegia's cliffs, to solid ma.s.s Turned the swoln billows, and the o'erhanging waves Fixed e'er they fell.

CHAPTER I.

_SHADE AND LIGHT-SORROW-BUT HOPE IN SORROW_.

In the enchanting vale below Pont Aberglaslyn there stood, many many years ago, a small villa, which at the time of which we write was covered over with ivy. Surrounding this beautiful rural retreat were gardens and pleasure grounds, which were designed and laid out with great artistic taste and skill in the arrangement of walks, shrubs, rose-trees, flowers, and evergreens.

At the time our story commences, the villa was occupied by a gentleman whose family had seen better days; but, through the prodigality of ancestors and the vast sums they had squandered in horse-racing, c.o.c.k-fighting, and gambling, the rent-roll of their estate which approached 12,000 a year, now scarcely reached a hundredth part of that sum after the interest had been paid. Indeed, when the then owner came into possession of his patrimony on the death of his father, his net income barely reached 6 a week. On discovering his pecuniary position, he felt he could no longer afford to occupy the family mansion, and like a wise man he prudently resolved to leave it, and remove to the villa we have already described. During the residence of the family at the old Hall, Mrs. Wynn-that being the name of the family-left her household affairs to her servants, who unfortunately paid but little regard to domestic economy. However, when she took up her residence in her new abode she wisely undertook the chief management of her household; while Mr. Wynn devoted his time to the cultivation of the garden and superintending the education of his son and daughter. Both proved apt learners; what they learned they remembered. Whatever book they read, they retained its contents in their singularly retentive memories. In pursuing their studies, fortunately they had this great advantage in their favour,-namely, that their parent was a ripe scholar and an eminent man of letters, while as a teacher he possessed abilities of the highest order. Having such an instructor, no wonder his beloved pupils made such rapid progress. After teaching them thoroughly the rudiments, Mr. Wynn led on his children step by step to higher grounds; but in all his lessons he sought to instil into their young minds a strong and pa.s.sionate desire, a longing thirst, for knowledge, the possession of which had afforded him some of the happiest and the most pleasurable hours of his life. Thus occupied, year after year came and rolled by, and each revolving year brought increased happiness to the little family of the villa. Truly did they live in each other's love.

When their son Cadwgan had attained his fifteenth year, his sister Gwenfan being two years younger, their father was on one Sat.u.r.day called away to the ancient town of Carnarvon, in order to transact some special business with the family solicitor. When he left home in the morning he promised to return the same evening, but though his wife and children waited his return until midnight, he came not. At last, sick and weary at heart, they retired to rest; but during the remainder of the night they were not roused by his well-known knock at the hall-door. Early on the ensuing Sabbath morning, a special messenger arrived at the villa from Carnarvon, with the sorrowful intelligence that Squire Wynn had been seized with a virulent attack of small-pox, a disease which was then fearfully raging in the town and neighbourhood, and the messenger urged Mrs. Wynn to hasten to the bedside of her husband, if she desired to see him alive. With an aching heart she kissed and bade adieu to her son and daughter, and hastened to the bedside of the almost lifeless form of him who had ever been the light of her eyes and the joy of her heart. She saw at the first glance that the hour of his departure had come. She threw herself on the bed by his side, when he tenderly embraced her, saying, "Heaven bless you, my angel!" and then pointing his finger upwards, "Meet me there, and bring our dear ones with you." He then heaved a deep sigh, and his spirit took its flight to the _gwlad well_ (the better land). Before that day's sun had descended into the western sea, Mrs. Wynn was attacked with the same fatal malady; and before the dawn of the following morning, her gentle and loving spirit had fled its earthly tabernacle for the land of eternal and ethereal joy. Thus were their children bereft of both father and mother in a single day, and before they were made acquainted with the terrible loss they had sustained, the forms they loved so well had been placed in the same tomb.

To the children the Monday and Tuesday following were days of anxious thought. No tidings had reached them of the sad event that had happened.

It was late on Tuesday evening that a kind friend arrived from the solicitor bringing the sad intelligence of their parents' decease. They were overwhelmed with sorrow on account of their loss. Days and days elapsed before they could realize their position. At last they were painfully impressed with the fact that they were alone in the world. No loving word now, in welcome and joyous voice, greeted them on entering their home. The arm-chair in which their father sat evening after evening, when he was used to tell them tales of years that had gone, and the couch on which their mother reclined before retiring to her bedroom, were both unoccupied. The sudden death of both, taken in connection with the responsibilities of the present and their anxieties pertaining to the future, nearly broke their young and tender hearts. But they sorrowed not as those who had no hope. From childhood they had been taught to love the dear Name which is above every name, and confident of His favour, and with full reliance on the promise that He would be a father to the fatherless, their gentle spirits became calm and peaceful.

Moreover, they looked forward to a bright immortality, when they would join those whom their souls loved. Thus, as day after day came and departed, they became more resigned to their lot. Their griefs were a.s.suaged by night voices from the world above. Often, in the evening twilight, they heard whispers from the spirits of the dear departed ones.

And the spirits said, after a few more years of toil, of labour, of sorrow, of anxiety and trouble, you will come up hither, and then you shall mingle your voices with ours, in praising Him, who has washed us from our sins in His own blood. That day there will be a joyous reunion in this spirit world where parting is no more.

CHAPTER II.

_AN INHERITANCE LOST_, _BUT A FRIEND FOUND_.

"Is not this a lovely April morning?" remarked Cadwgan to his sister, as they walked hand-in-hand across the lawn.

"It is, indeed, a most lovely morning, brother. And is not the scene around most enchanting?"

"You, Gwenfan, have always been a great admirer of the spring."

"And you, dear Cadwgan, have been its enthusiastic admirer."

"I have loved it, my dear sister, because it is the season of the year when nature puts on its most joyous apparel. The trees and flowers, the hedgerows and forests, the cornfields and meads, all all are decked in their green robes. When spring comes, after the deathlike appearance of winter with its cold and chilling air, nature springs into new life; the trees send forth their green leaves, the rose its blossom, the meadows put on their usual dress, and Nature appears to say to all, Come, come, and behold my triumphant resurrection from the death of winter."

"And does not the animal creation, my brother, partic.i.p.ate in the glories of spring?"

"Sister, oh, do listen to the joyous melody of the skylark, and see, see how he mounts higher and higher, and sings as he ascends! From yon th.o.r.n.y bush don't you hear the blackbird's sweet notes? while the mellow bullfinch answers those notes from yonder sylvan grove."

"It is love, my dearest brother, that creates this music; all this waste of melody is the heavenly voice of sweetest love."

"Don't say, my dear sister, that this melody is wasted. Music is never wasted when there are people listening to its soothing and joyous strains."

"But people, Cadwgan, do not always give ear to the charming voices of these winged songsters. And are there not hundreds, and perhaps thousands, who fail to appreciate, who are never moved by, their enchanting notes?"

"That there are persons, my wise sister, who listen unmoved to the melody of birds, I would be the last to deny; but is there not an equally large number of persons who see no beauty in verdant glades, in the bubbling crystal fountain, in the rippling streamlet, and in the flowers as they open their petals to draw in the morning dewdrop?"

"As you have referred to flowers, come, dear Cadwgan, and look at my smiling blushing roses. Oh, they look so lovely! Exquisitely beautiful are they, and their perfume fills the morning air with the most delicious fragrance."

"They are, my dear Gwenfan, most beautiful; but pray tell me the secret of your success in training them to so great a perfection."

"That I can explain in a few words. I have nursed them well. I have paid them as much attention as I have paid to my birds, and I love them almost as much,-don't I, pretty, smiling, blushing roses?"

"It will be hard for you to part with this lovely dwelling, won't it, Gwenfan; especially as it is endeared to us by so many happy and hallowed a.s.sociations?"

"But we shan't leave here, brother; shall we?"

"I am afraid we shall be obliged to do so, sister."

"I am so sorry to hear you say so."

"I am sorry too, to break the news to you. The thought of leaving our dear home almost breaks my heart."

"I had hoped, Cadwgan, never to say adieu to the abode of our beloved parents, though the void created by our sad bereavement can never be filled up. But, if we must leave, whither shall we go?"

"At present, my darling sister, I know not where we shall have to pitch our tent; but our heavenly Father, in His good providence, will, if we trust Him, provide for us a shelter."

"I do love and trust Him, my dear brother; but, oh, at this moment, the future appears to me dark and beamless. I fail to see even a fringe of the cloud with a silver lining."

"But if we look to the light, our future may still be bright and joyous; as will be the appearance of yonder vale when the dark cloud you see up there pa.s.ses away. In a few minutes this sylvan dell will be lighted up by the golden beams of the morning sun."

"Look, brother, look! The cloud is rapidly moving on its journey. The rays of the king of day will soon fall upon and penetrate both woodland and brake, warming and cheering the dwellers in mossy beds and gra.s.sy mounds, imparting hope and joy to all."

"So may it be with us, dear Gwenfan. When we least expect aid from on high, that aid comes, and at once the darkness and gloom are chased away."

But here his sister called her brother's attention to a lady driving a pony carriage. "I declare," she said, "the lady is coming to the villa.

See! see! her servant has opened the entrance gate at the bottom of the lawn. Oh, who can she be? Do you expect any one to visit us, brother?"

"I expect no one, but hope that she may be a messenger of good, not of evil; a harbinger of comfort, and not the bearer of bad tidings and thus increase our affliction and sorrow. Our cup of grief is already full and overflowing."

As the carriage approached nearer to the villa, the children saw that its occupant was clad in deep mourning, and that she resembled some one whom they well knew, but whom they could not at the moment recollect.

Presently, the carriage was driven up to the door, and the lady inquired of the orphans if the house was called Bryn Villa, and if they were the children of Mr. and Mrs. Wynn.

"I am, madam, their son," replied Cadwgan, "and this is my sister Gwenfan."