"I suppose," said I, "you wish to have my company for fear of
meeting Gwyddelians on the hill."
John smiled.
"Well, sir," said he, "if I do meet them I would sooner be with
company than without. But I dare venture by myself, trusting in
the Man on High, and perhaps I do wrong to ask you to go, as you
must be tired with your walk of yesterday."
"Hardly more than yourself," said I. "Come; I shall be glad to go.
What I said about the Gwyddelians was only in jest."
As we were about to depart John said:
"It does not rain at present, sir, but I think it will. You had
better take an umbrella."
I did so, and away we went. We passed over the bridge, and turning
to the right went by the back of the town through a field. As we
passed by the Plas Newydd John Jones said:
"No one lives there now, sir; all dark and dreary; very different
from the state of things when the ladies lived there - all gay then
and cheerful. I remember the ladies, sir, particularly the last,
who lived by herself after her companion died. She was a good
lady, and very kind to the poor; when they came to her gate they
were never sent away without something to cheer them.
