now
recollect, was one of the places pointed out to me as best worth seeing
in this part of the country. All things considered therefore, if the
morning should prove fine, I will not fail to join you somewhere on the
road to Ap Gauvon."

At this point the conversation dropped; his two companions thanked him,
and turned off down a bye street--upon some business connected with the
preparations for the ensuing day; whilst Bertram pursued the direct
road to the inn.

By this time it was dusk: the cottage windows were beginning to
brighten with the blazing fire within; crowds of men were in the street
elevated with Sir Morgan's liquor; and all the boys of Machynleth were
gathering into groups, and preparing to let off their squibs and
crackers in honour of the day. On approaching the inn, Bertram observed
a carriage drawn up to the door; and a sudden blaze of light from one
of the torches, which now began to appear amongst the crowd, showed him
the figure of a young lady sitting inside. A minute afterwards, one of
the attendants lit the carriage lamps; in doing which, the light of his
candle illuminated the inside of the carriage, and fell strongly upon a
face too beautiful and expressive to be forgotten by any one who had
once beheld it. Bertram perceived that it was Miss Walladmor, who was
now on her return to Walladmor House.

"She'll be off in a moment," said the landlord: "she's only stopping to
change horses and get the lamps lit. The Lord Lieutenant's horses, that
brought her in from the Castle in the forenoon, have been a matter of
thirty miles with her since church-time on the other side the country;
and that's near sixty in all. And so she takes my horses on to
Walladmor."

"And does Sir Morgan not accompany her?"

"Oh! lord, no: Sir Morgan always dines with the Corporation; and he'll
not be on the road for these seven hours; not on this side of midnight,
I'll warrant him. This is St. David's day, I'd have you to remember:
and this I'll take upon me to say----Mind, I name no names----but this
I'll say, there's no man in Machynleth, gentle or simple, that will
have the face to be sober to-night when the clock strikes twelve, nor
any man that will leave Machynleth sober _after_ twelve. What! do you
take us for heathens? Most of us have been drunk these four hours
agone; and are ready to be drunk again; and there's not many here but
will have their eyes set in their heads in two hours more. I'll answer
for one