The Cambrian Sketch-Book Part 8

"May I presume to ask the name of the lady who takes care of you?"

"We have no one taking care of us, madam," replied Gwenfan. "I look after my brother, and he looks after me."

"But have you no one with you,-no grown up person in charge of the house, and in charge of its management?"

"We have only a maid-servant in the house, ma'am," answered the brother; "and she has been with us since we were little ones."

"You are then, my dears, left alone in the world. Unless I have been misinformed, you have lost both parents."

"Both are dead, ma'am," answered Gwenfan, weeping; "and neither my brother nor I am aware of having a single relative living."

"Had not your papa a sister?" inquired the lady.

"We never heard dear papa speak of a sister, or any relative," answered Cadwgan.

"Dear me, sir, that is certainly very strange; because I happen to know of his having a sister, whom he loved very dearly."

"Of her, ma'am," replied the youth, "papa never spoke. I remember hearing him say, he had no one left in the world to care for, except dear mamma and us."

"For the present we will say no more on the subject. But having driven many a long mile, my dears, since the morning, and still having a long journey before me, I must claim your hospitality for food for my servant and pony."

"You are heartily welcome, ma'am, to partake of the best our house can afford," replied the children. "Your servant will perhaps drive the pony into the yard, and he will find there our man servant who will attend to his wants."

The lady then descended from her phaeton, and was conducted by the children into the house. During the time refreshments were being prepared she made a minute inspection of the parlour. When she had thoroughly surveyed it, and was about to take a rest on the sofa, she saw what appeared to be a picture, but the likeness was shut from view by a curtain of green baize which hung over and covered both the picture and frame. The lady's curiosity was aroused, but just then she heard the footsteps of the servant and the children in the pa.s.sage; but before they entered the room, she had succeeded in drawing aside the baize, and had a glimpse of the likeness beneath. When the children entered they perceived that the lady appeared slightly agitated, though, necessarily, they were wholly ignorant of its cause.

During the time she was engaged in partaking of the refreshments which had been provided her, she talked and chatted away on all manner of topics, but studiously avoided making any allusion to herself. She asked the children many questions about people in the neighbourhood, particularly about Mrs. Jones, of the Glen; her sons and daughters, if they were all married, and did they reside in the locality. She specially asked if young Squire Jones were still a bachelor.

The children gave their visitor an account of the several families she inquired for, and informed her that Mr. Jones was still single, that he resided at the Glen, and had succeeded to his uncle's property, which brought in some 12,000 a year.

"And you never heard, my dears, your papa mentioning relatives either living or dead."

"Indeed, we don't recollect our papa making any allusion to relatives, except," said Cadwgan, "on one occasion, when he said to mamma, 'I am afraid she is dead; for were she alive she would certainly write to us.'"

"I know, my dears, to whom he referred, and think I can satisfy you that she is not dead, but still lives."

"Any information, ma'am," replied the youth, "with which you can furnish us will place us under deep obligations to you."

"Have you, my dears, ever seen the picture under the green baize?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then you don't know whose likeness it is?"

"Indeed, ma'am," replied the brother and sister, "we don't."

"Tell me, my dears,"-removing the covering,-"tell me if you have ever seen any one like that portrait."

For a moment the children hesitated; and after looking first at the portrait and then at the lady, said, "The picture, ma'am, is very like you; or you resemble the portrait."

"You are quite right, my loves. Your dear papa was my brother, and you, my dears, are my nephew and niece. Come to my arms, and be a.s.sured that, as far as I can, I will make up for the loss you have sustained. I will love you deeply, fondly, ardently; and for my brother's sake, and that of your kind, gentle, and loving mother, who was as dear to me as my dear sister Gwenfan, who was the light and joy of our homes, and for your own sakes, I will be your guide, your friend, your counsellor and stay."

In a moment the children were locked in the tender and loving embrace of their aunt. They all wept, though their sorrows were mixed with joy. To some extent the discovery thus made relieved the sadness and gloom of the hour. In the hour of gloom, when aid was least expected, a comforter had been found. But upon this scene we must not dwell. Their aunt was a woman of action, and rest with her was impossible until she had thoroughly mastered the children's affairs. Hence, as soon as she and her pony had had refreshment and an hour's rest, she, with her niece and nephew, started off for Carnarvon to see the family solicitor, and from that gentleman learnt that the old family estate of the Wynns was mortgaged to its full value, and that the mortgagee had now given notice to foreclose unless the sum borrowed was repaid within a month. "To do this," said the solicitor, "is, I fear, impossible, because the amount borrowed-80,000-is so large that in these times there are but few capitalists who have it at their command." He then gave it as his deliberate opinion that the best thing was for the mortgagee to sell, and if he realized a sum beyond the enc.u.mbrance, it might be invested for the joint use of the children.

This advice was acted upon by the aunt and orphans. A few weeks after this conversation, Wynn Castle and its domain and estate were sold by auction, the fortunate purchaser being a London merchant of great wealth, who during the first three years of its possession expended on improvements 20,000.

When the affairs of Wynn Castle were all arranged, Cadwgan resolved to seek his fortune in the wide wide world. His aunt and sister did their best to dissuade him from leaving home, but he turned a deaf ear to their arguments and entreaties. At last they reluctantly acquiesced, and it was finally arranged that his aunt and sister were to remain at the Villa (this house and grounds forming no part of the Wynn Castle estate), the former promising to supply as far as she was able the void which death had created.

CHAPTER III.

_THE WIDE WORLD_.

It was a beautiful summer morning when Cadwgan departed from the home of his love, the place endeared to him by so many happy a.s.sociations. The parting scene between him and his sister was most painful. From childhood they had not been separate from each other a single day.

Gwenfan's love for her brother was deep, ardent, and tender. Every want of his she antic.i.p.ated, while she paid the minutest attention to his feelings, even in small and trivial matters. To part with her only brother was indeed a sore trial; but she now felt she could no longer resist his wishes, though the thought almost broke her heart. Then Cadwgan's grief was equally intense. He however felt that duty called him away; and somehow there came into his soul a conviction that a day might come when fortune would smile upon him, and on that day his sister would bless him for having forsaken the joys of home with its smiles and sunshine, in obedience to what he regarded as a solemn duty. At last he tore himself away from his sister's and aunt's tender and affectionate caresses, leaving the home of his childhood; and before the sun was up, grand old Snowdon, with its circ.u.mjacent hills and mountain-tops, had disappeared from his view. However, he lingered not on his journey, but when the last old friend of his youth had disappeared he put on new speed, resolving to arrive at the metropolis of England and the world before the end of the following week.

We shall not attempt to describe the journey and the incidents which occurred by the way. Suffice it to say, that in due course he reached the great city, and during the first few days after his arrival he wandered from street to street, traversing its parks, alleys, and great thoroughfares; and during those days' wanderings he saw much of the busy scenes of city life, especially those places where merchant princes most do congregate.

After being in London about a week, faint, weary and worn, hungry and footsore, he sat down one evening in one of the recesses of London Bridge, and wept. Though thousands pa.s.sed by not a soul took any notice of the sorrowing and weeping boy. As the shades of night began to fall faster and faster on the scene, the bridge became less crowded, and as the evening advanced, became almost deserted. The poor youth now thought seriously on his lonely and forlorn condition. To procure a bed was almost impossible, as he knew not where to go; and even if he did know, he could ill afford to spare two shillings-the sum his landlord had charged him the previous evening-because his little purse was nearly empty. When the few shillings which remained were gone, he saw no prospect before him but hunger and starvation, which he now considered would be his inevitable fate. He now repented of his somewhat rash act of leaving home before consulting with some one as to the best course he should pursue. But his repentance was too late. He placed himself in the hand of his heavenly Father, and prayed to Him for help and guidance.

That prayer brought peace to his troubled spirit.

It was a beautiful and balmy summer night, and he asked himself the question, why could he not make himself quite comfortable there for a single night? Having resolved to sleep there for one night at least, he at once commenced to arrange his pillow, which consisted of his carpet bag. Having placed the bag on the ledge between the parapet and the footpath, he lay down to sleep. Just as he was about to close his eyes a gentleman came up, and stepping on the ledge close to the youth's bag, looked over the parapet on the ebbing tide below. Having remained in that position a few minutes, he turned round for the purpose of descending to the regular path in order to continue his journey, but in his descent he saw the youth apparently asleep. He gazed on his countenance for a few moments, and said,-

"What are you doing there, my child, this time of night?"

"I hope, sir," replied Cadwgan, "that my sleeping here for a night will not be wrong. I'm not in the way of any one, sir, and I won't do any mischief."

"But have you no other place to go to, my child? You can procure a bed somewhere, can't you?"

"I might possibly do so, sir, but I can't well spare the money to pay for a night's lodgings."

"But have you no friends or relations in town, my boy, to whom you could apply for a.s.sistance?"

"I've no friends in London, sir."

"I presume you have relations in the country who are in a position to aid you."

"I've a sister, sir, but she is nearly three hundred miles from here."

"Where did you come from, my child?"

"From Wales, sir."

"Is Wales your home-I mean your native country?"

"Yes, sir."