""Bide a bit," said old Rees.
""What have you forgotten?" said she, looking about in the bottom of the boat. For she knew what he used very well.
""Nought," said he. But all the same he began to put the boat about in a stupid fashion, afraid of offending her, and yet loth to lose a shilling. And so, when Peggy looked up, what should she see but a gentleman--whom Rees had perceived, you will understand--stepping into the boat, and Peter Rees not daring to look her in the face because he knew well that she would never go out with strangers.
"Of course the young gentleman thought no harm, but said gaily, "Thank you! I am just in time." And what should he do, but go aft and sit down on the seat by her, and begin to talk to Rees about the weather and the pots. And presently he said to her, "I suppose you are used to steering, my girl?"
""Yes," Peggy answered, but very grave and quiet-like, so that if he had not determined that she was old Rees"s daughter he would have taken notice of it. But she was wearing a short frock that she used for the fishing, and was wet with getting into the boat moreover.
""Will you please to hold my hat a minute," he said; and with that he put it in her lap while he looked for a piece of string with which to fasten it to his b.u.t.ton. Well, she said nothing, but her cheeks were scarlet, and by-and-by, when he had called her "my girl" two or three times more--not roughly, but just offhand, taking her for a fisher-girl--Peter Rees could stand it no longer, shilling or no shilling.
""You mustn"t be speaking that fashion to her," he said gruffly.
""What?" said the gentleman looking up. He was surprised, and no wonder, at the tone of the man.
""You mustn"t speak like that to Miss McNeill Court," repeated old Rees more roughly than before. "You are to understand she is not a common girl, but like yourself."
"The young gentleman turned and looked at her just once, short and sharp, and I am told that his face was as red as hers when their eyes met. "I beg Miss McNeill"s pardon," he said, taking off his hat grandly, yet as if he meant it too; "I was under a great misapprehension."
"After that you may believe they did not enjoy the row much. There was scarcely a word said by any one until they came ash.o.r.e again. The visitor, to the great joy of Peter, who was looking for a sixpence, gave him half a crown; and then walked away with the young lady, side by side with her, but very stiff and silent. However, just as they were parting, Peter could see that he said something, having his hat in his hand the while, and that Miss Peggy, after standing and listening, bowed as grand as might be. Upon which they separated for that time.
"But two things came of this; first, that every one began to call her Miss McNeill Court which was not at all to the pleasure of the Llewellyn Evanses. And then, that whenever the gentleman, who was a painter lodging at Mrs. Campbell"s of the shop, would meet her, he would stop and say a few words, and more as the time went on.
Presently there came some wet weather; and Mrs. Campbell borrowed for his use books from her, which had her name within; and later he sent for a box of books from London, and then the lending was on the other side. So it was not long before people began to see how things were, and to smile when the gentleman treated old Robert Evans at the Newydd Inn. The fishermen, when he was out with them, would tack so that he might see the smoke of Court over the cliffs; and there was no more Peggy _bach_ to be met, either rowing with Peter Rees or running wild among the rocks, but a very sedate young lady who, to be sure, did not seem to be unhappy.
"The old man was ailing in his limbs at this time, but his mind was as clear as ever, and his grip of the land as tight. He could not bear, now that his sons were dead, that any one should come after him. I am thinking that he would be taking every one for a body-bird. Still the family were forward with presents and such-like, and helped him perhaps about the farm; so that, though there was talk in the village, no one could say what will he would make.
"However, one day towards winter Miss Peggy came in late from a walk, and found the old man very cross. "Where have you been?" he cried angrily. Then, without any warning, "You have been courting," he said, "with that fine gentleman from the shop?"
""Well," my lady replied, putting a brave face upon it, as was her way, "and what then, grandfather? I am not ashamed of it."
""You ought to be!" he cried, banging his stick upon the floor. "Do you think that he will marry you?"
""Yes, I do," she replied stoutly. "He has told you so to-day, I know."
"Robert Evans laughed, but his laugh was not a pleasant one. "You are right," he said. "He has told me. He was very forward to tell me. He thought I was going to leave you my money. But I am not! Mind you that, my girl."
""Very well," she answered, white and red by turns.
""You will remember that you are no relation of mine!" he went on viciously, for he had grown very crabbed of late. "No relation! And I am not going to leave you money. He is after my money. He is nothing but a fortune-catcher!"
""He is not!" she exclaimed, as hot as fire, and began to put on her hat again.
""Very well! We shall see!" answered Robert Evans. "Do you tell him what I say, and see if he will marry you. Go! Go now, girl, and you need not come back! You will get nothing by staying here!" he cried, for what with his jealousy and the mention of money, he was furious--"not a penny! You had better be off at once!"
"She did not answer for a minute or so, but she seemed to change her mind about going, for she laid down her hat, and went about the house-place getting tea ready--and no doubt her fingers trembled a little--until the old man cried, "Well, why don"t you go? You will get nothing by staying."
""I shall stay to take care of you all the same," she answered quietly. "You need not leave me anything, and then--and then I shall know whether you are right."
""Do you mean it?" he asked sharply, after looking at her in silence for a time.
""Yes," said she.
""Then it"s a bargain!" cried Robert Evans--"it"s a bargain!" And he said not a word more about it, but took his tea from her and talked of the Llewellyn Evanses who had been to pay him a visit that day. It seemed, however, as if the matter had upset him, for he had to be helped to bed, and complained a good deal, neither of which things were usual with him.
"Well, it is not unlikely that the young lady promised herself to tell her lover all about it next day, and looked to hear many times over from his lips that it was not her money he wanted. But this was not to be, for early the next morning Gwen Madoc was at her door.
""You are to get up, miss," she said. "The master wants you to go to London by the first train."
""To London!" cried Peggy, very much astonished. "Is he ill? Is anything the matter, Gwen?"
""No," the old woman answered very short. "It is just that."
"And when the girl, having dressed hastily, came down to Robert Evans"
room, she found that this was pretty nearly all they would tell her.
"You will go to Mrs. Richard Evans, who lives at Islington," he said, as if he had been thinking about it. "She is my second cousin, and will find house-room for you, and make no charge whatever. To-morrow you will take this packet to the address upon it, and the next day a packet will be returned to you, which you will bring back to me. I am not well to-day, and I want to have the matter settled, yes, indeed."
""But could not some one else go, if you are not well?" she objected, "and I will stop and take care of you."
"He grew very angry at that. "Do as you are bidden, girl," he said. "I shall see the doctor to-day, and for the rest, Gwen can do for me. I am well enough. Do you look to the papers. Richard Evans owes me money, and will make no charge for your living."
"So Miss Peggy had her breakfast, and in a wonderfully short time, as it seemed to her, she was on the way to London, with plenty of leisure for thinking--very likely for doubting and fearing as well. She had not seen her sweetheart, that was one thing. She had been despatched in a hurry, that was another. And then, to be sure, the big town was strange to her.
"However, nothing happened there, I may tell you. But on the third morning she received a short note from Gwen Madoc, and suddenly rose from breakfast with Mrs. Richard, her face very white. There was news in the letter--news of which all the neighborhood for miles round Court was full. Robert Evans, if you will believe it, was dead. After ailing for a few hours he had died, with only Gwen Madoc to smooth his pillow.
"It was late when she reached the nearest station to Court on her way back, and found a pony trap waiting. She was stepping into it when Mr.
Griffith Hughes, the lawyer, saw her, and came up to speak.
""I am sorry to have bad news for you, Miss McNeill," he said, and he spoke nicely, for he was a kind man, and, what with the shock and the long journey, she was looking very pale.
"Oh, yes," she answered, with a sort of weary surprise; "I know it already. That is why I am come home--to Court, I mean."
"He saw that she was thinking only of Robert Evans" death, which was not what was in his mind. "It is about the will," he said in a whisper, though he need not have been so careful, for every one in the neighbourhood had learned about it from Gwen Madoc. "It is a cruel will. I would not have made it for him, my dear. He has left Court to the Llewellyn Evanses, and the money between the Evanses of Nant and the Evan Bevans."
""It is quite right," she answered, so calmly that he stared. "My grandfather explained it to me. I understood that I was not to be in the will."
"Mr. Hughes looked more and more puzzled. "Oh, but," he replied, "it is not so bad as that. Your name is in the will. He has laid it upon those who get the land and money to provide for you--to settle a proper income upon you. And you may depend upon me for doing my best to have his wishes carried out."
"The young lady turned very red, and her voice was hard.
""Who are to provide for me?" she asked. ""The three families who divide the estate," he said.
""And are they obliged to do so?"
""Well--no," he allowed. "I am not sure that they are exactly obliged.
But no doubt----"
""I doubt very much," she answered, taking him up with a smile. And then she shook hands with him and drove away, leaving him wondering at her courage.