‘Which way did she go?’

‘Down the Carmarthen road.’

‘Good morning, Mrs Lewis, thank you.  I must look after my dog.’

Mr Prothero found it easiest to ask for the girl with a large black dog, and traced them to within a mile of Carmarthen.

He stopped at a small roadside inn to have a glass of cwrw da.[Footnote:  Good ale] Here he asked the landlady of Gladys.

’See her and the dog!  Is seure.  They come here in the evening, and she asked for a slice of bread and a drink of water, and took out sixpence to pay for it.  She gave all the bread to the dog, and my master, who is fond of dogs, told me to give ’em both a good supper.  Poor dear! she couldn’t help crying; and my master, who is tender-hearted when he sees a girl do be crying, tell me to give her and the dog a good supper and a bed in the barn, which I did, is seure.’

Mr Prothero paid handsomely for his ale, and having learnt that Gladys and Lion went straight to Carmarthen, went thither also.  He made some few inquiries at the small inns that he passed, but gained no information.  He accordingly rode through the town, and took the direct route to Hob’s Point, whence, he knew, she would probably sail for Ireland.

The afternoon was far advanced, still he rode on.  He began to feel as anxious as he was angry and annoyed, and declared to himself that he wouldn’t turn back until he had found her.  He soon began to track her again.  All the little boys on the way had noticed the big dog, and could point out the route he and Gladys had pursued.

He stopped at one cottage where the mistress told him that she had made the girl sit down in the porch, because she looked so tired; and at another where she had asked how far it was to Pembrokeshire.

He had ridden about thirty miles, and twilight was creeping on.  He began to think of the necessity of finding a night’s lodging, and once more consigned Gladys and the Irish generally to any distant region where he should never see them again.

‘If she hadn’t nursed mother so tenderly,’ he muttered to himself, ’I’d turn back now; but as she does seem to be running away from Owen, and not with him, it ‘ould be creuel.’

The moon, the young May moon, arose in the heavens, and the farmer quickened his pace, for he knew the road, and that he was a good way from an inn, or, indeed, from any habitation where he could ask a night’s lodging.  Lights peeped out, one by one, from the cottages as he passed, and when he glanced into them, and saw the cheerful little fires, he thought more compassionately of Gladys, and wondered whether she had found food and lodging for the night.

He was within a mile of a small village that he knew very well, when it was about ten o’clock.  The wind blew rather keenly, and he buttoned up his great-coat, and began to whistle, by way of keeping himself warm.

‘Come, old girl! we shall soon have something to eat! come along,’ he said to his mare, as he gave her a slight touch with his whip.