s's skipper, and I'll dance at
your wedding."

Up I springs to my feet, and, though I was short of money, I orders
another grog. And then Evan and I struck our bargain; and, I tell ye, I
felt another and a stronger man.

"Now, Evan," I sings out, "I'll be off home to tell my lass."

"Avast," says my shipmate, "you'll need to see about your kit. It's
darned cool up in them latitudes!"

"Ay, ay," I replied--"to-morrow will do for that."

"Right," he answers; "we'll meet at this very spot to-morrow, by your
leave."

Well, mates, with a swelling heart, I crossed the Mawdach River, and
began to trudge back to Glanwern. About a mile or so to the north of
the village, I ran athwart Gwen Thomas, with a roll of music under her
arm, and a broad grin on her deceitful face.

"You're quite a stranger, Hugh," she says, dropping a curtsey, as if I
were the parson, or Sir Watkin himself. "Yes, indeed; now Rhoda
Howell's come back to Glanwern, you've lost your eyes for every one
else. If I wasn't good-tempered, I'd take offence."

Now, my lads, I was a bit in the wrong about this girl Gwen. I don't
say that she wasn't most to blame of the two, yet conscience made me
feel uncomfortable as regards the part I had played toward her. So I
couldn't be otherwise than civil, when she met me so pleasant like,
instead of being out of temper, as I expected.

Says I, "Gwen, lass, mayhap I do care more for Rhoda than for most
others; I'm not ashamed to own it. Anyhow, for her sake, I'm going on a
long voyage."

"What?" she cries, anxiously, her lips turning pale indeed.

So, when the girl passed the question to me, I up and told her the whole
tale, and how that, in forty-eight hours, I should be afloat on the
briny ocean, with the ship's bows standing for the North Sea.

She heard me out, quite dazed like. Then she says, says she, in a very
quiet, demure fashion, "You'll come to the singing-class to-night, if
it's only to wish us all a farewell? Rhoda will be there, but she will
walk with the miller; so, if you like to keep me company for the last
time, you may."

In those old days, Hugh Anwyl boasted a tenor voice. Yes, indeed. And
this girl Gwen got the reputation of being a prime musician, and used to
train our class. They had her all the way off to Llangollen, to perform
at an Eistedfodd, as they call it in the principality, for she sang like
a nightingale. Well, when she asked me to walk with her, I thought it
chu