obeyed, too languid to strive further to understand, Ellis said
rapidly to Owen, in a low, hurried voice -

"Are you meaning that the Squire is dead? Speak low, lest she hear.
Well, well, no need to talk about how he died. It was sudden, I see;
and we must all of us die; and he'll have to be buried. It's well
the night is near. And I should not wonder now if you'd like to
travel for a bit; it would do Nest a power of good; and then--there's
many a one goes out of his own house and never comes back again; and-
-I trust he's not lying in his own house--and there's a stir for a
bit, and a search, and a wonder--and, by-and-by, the heir just steps
in, as quiet as can be. And that's what you'll do, and bring Nest to
Bodowen after all. Nay, child, better stockings nor those; find the
blue woollens I bought at Llanrwst fair. Only don't lose heart.
It's done now and can't be helped. It was the piece of work set you
to do from the days of the Tudors, they say. And he deserved it.
Look in yon cradle. So tell us where he is, and I'll take heart of
grace and see what can be done for him."

But Owen sat wet and haggard, looking into the peat fire as if for
visions of the past, and never heeding a word Ellis said. Nor did he
move when Nest brought the armful of dry clothes.

"Come, rouse up, man!" said Ellis, growing impatient. But he neither
spoke nor moved.

"What is the matter, father?" asked Nest, bewildered.

Ellis kept on watching Owen for a minute or two, till on his
daughter's repetition of the question, he said -