had been the
atmosphere in which his ancestors had lived and breathed, but in his
case pride had struggled with prejudice, and had conquered. For three
generations a son had gone forth from Garthowen to the enemy's Church,
and had won there distinction and riches. True, their career had
withdrawn them entirely from the old simple home circle, but this did
not deter Ebben Owens from desiring strongly to emulate his ancestors.
Why should not Will, the clever one of the family, his favourite
son--who had "topped" all the boys at the village school, and had taken
so many prizes in the grammar school at Caer-Madoc--why should not he
gain distinction and preferment in the Church, and shed fresh lustre on
the fading name of "Owens of Garthowen," for the name had lost its
ancient prestige in the countryside? In early time theirs had been a
family of importance, as witness the old deeds in the tin box on the
attic rafters, but for two hundred years they had been simple farmers.
They had never been a thrifty race, and the broad lands which tradition
said once belonged to them had been sold from time to time, until
nothing remained but the old farm with its hundred acres of mountain
land. Ebben Owens never troubled his head, however, about the past
glories of his race. He inherited the "happy-go-lucky,"
unbusiness-like temperament which had probably been the cause of his
ancestors' misfortunes, but Will's evident love of learning had aroused
in the old man a strong wish to remind the world that the "Owens of
Garthowen" still lived, and could push themselves to the front if they
wished.

As Will drank his tea and cleared plate after plate of bread and
butter, his father looked at him with a tender, admiring gaze. Will
had always been his favourite. Gethin, the eldest son, had never taken
hold of his affections; he had been the mother's favourite, and after
her death had drifted further and further out of his father's good
graces. The boy's nature was a complete contrast to that of his own
and second son, for Gethin was bold and daring, while they were wary
and secret; he was restless and mischievous, while his brother was
quiet and sedate; he was constantly getting into scrapes, while Will
always managed to steer clear of censure. Gethin hated his books too,
and, worse than all, he paid but scant regard to the services in the
chapel, which held such an important place in the estimation of the
rest of the household. More