em all know what I am. Here
come Ann and Gwilym; perhaps they will be as hard upon me as I deserve."

Here Tudor again laid his soft head on the table beside his master's,
and the old man passed his arm round the dog's neck.

"Yes--yes, 'machgen i, I know I have thee still. Go, Morva, post my
letter at Pont-y-fro, though 'tis Sunday night. Good-night, girl, thou
hast an old man's blessing. For what it is worth," he added, under his
breath, as the girl passed out of one door, while Gwilym and Ann
entered at the other.

On their way home through the clear starlight, Gwilym had endeavoured
to soothe Ann's distress, to point out to her how real a proof of
repentance was her father's confession. He reminded her of the joy
amongst the angelic host over one sinner that repenteth! but his words
failed to make their usual impression upon her. Shame, and contempt
for her father's weakness were uppermost in her heart, and expressed
upon her countenance, when she entered the kitchen. One glance,
however, at the bowed grey head and the dejected attitude, banished
every feeling of anger to the winds; with a bound she was at her
father's side, her arms round his neck, her head leaning with his on
the table, Tudor laying his own beside them.

Ebben Owens's departure from the chapel had been followed by a few
moments of breathless silence. No more experiences were told, no hymn
was sung, but a short and fervid prayer from the preacher alone
preceded the dismissal which sent the astonished and deeply-moved
congregation pouring out into the roadway.

Jos Hughes had trembled with fright when Ebben Owens had alluded to his
want of money at the time of Will's entering college, and had expected
nothing less than an exposure of his oft broken promises and the long
delayed payment of his debt; but as the old man proceeded without
allusion to his shortcomings, he had regained his courage, and his
usual smug appearance of righteous peace and content.

"Well!" he said to his fellow-deacons, as they followed the rough road
to Pont-y-fro, "did you ever think we had such a fool for a deacon?"

"'Ts--'ts! never indeed," said John Jones of the "Blue Bell."

"Well, indeed," said old Thomas Morgan, the weaver, "I didn't know we
had such a sinner amongst us; but fool! perhaps it would be better if
we were all such fools."

But no one took any notice of his remark, for he was never considered
to have been endowed with his full complement