The men returned each to his abode, and an hour after midday they gathered in the church burial-ground, and they drew up a tombstone, and with it rammed the door; and they hurled stones at the windows; and in the darkness they built a wall of dung in the room of the door.

Repentance sank into the Parson as he saw and remembered that which had been done to him.  He called to him his servant Lissi Workhouse, and her he told to take Gwen to Deinol.  The cow lowed woefully as she was driven; she was heard even in Morfa, and many hurried to the road to witness her.

Abel was at the going in of the close.

“Well-well, Lissi Workhouse,” he said, “what’s doing then?”

“‘Go give the male his beast,’ mishtir talked.”

“Right for you are,” said Abel.

“Right for enough is the rascal.  But a creature without blemish he pilfered.  Hit her and hie her off.”

As Lissi was about to go, Ben cried from within the house:  “The cow the fulbert had was worth two of his cows.”

“Sure, iss-iss,” said Abel.  “Go will I to Vicarage with boys capel.  Bring the baston, Ben bach.”

Ben came out, and his ardor warmed up on beholding Lissi’s broad hips, scarlet cheeks, white teeth, and full bosoms.

“Not blaming you, girl fach, am I,” he said.  “My father, journey with Gwen.  Walk will I with Lissi Workhouse.”

That afternoon Abel brought a cow in calf into his close; and that night Ben crossed the mown hayfields to the Vicarage, and he threw a little gravel at Lissi’s window.

* * * * *

The hay was gathered and stacked and thatched, and the corn was cut down, and to the women who were gleaning his father’s oats, Ben said how that Lissi was in the family way.

“Silence your tone, indeed,” cried one, laughing.  “No sign have I seen.”

“If I died,” observed a large woman, “boy bach pretty innocent you are, Benshamin.  Four months have I yet.  And not showing much do I.”

“No,” said another, “the bulk might be only the coil of your apron, ho-ho.”

“Whisper to us,” asked the large woman, “who the foxer is.  Keep the news will we.”

“Who but the scamp of the Parson?” replied Ben.  “What a sow of a hen.”

By such means Ben shifted his offense.  On being charged by the Parson he rushed through the roads crying that the enemy of the Big Man had put unbecoming words on a harlot’s tongue.  Capel Dissenters believed him.  “He could not act wrongly with a sheep,” some said.

So Ben tasted the sapidness and relish of power, and his desires increased.

“Mortgage Deinol, my father bach,” he said to Abel.  “Going am I to London.  Heavy shall I be there.  None of the dirty English are like me.”

“Already have I borrowed for your college.  No more do I want to have.  How if I sell a horse?”

“Sell you the horse too, my father bach.”