Testimonies: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

Caernarvon accent she had) she pretended not to know a word every now and then, and used an English one instead. She had a way of looking round when she got into a house, looking sharply at the furniture and other things; and at Mary Owen’s she dusted her seat before she sat down. Anyone could see that she and Bronwen did not like one another, but there were many people who blamed the family, and Bronwen as one of them.”
    “I see,” said the other. “Thank you very much; now I have a clearer picture of the background. This brings us up to the time with which I am principally concerned. I should be glad if you would tell me about the cottage you have mentioned, and Mr. Pugh, who took it.”
    “Hafod, the cottage, is on the quarry road, above Gelli. It is only a very small, old-fashioned place, but summer visitors liked it and took it almost every year. Mr. Pugh took it at the end of one summer. I heard that he was an English gentleman from Oxford; I did not learn exactly what he did there, but I understood he was a tutor at the university. At that time I did not see him, except in the village, but I heard all about him.
    “I was surprised to hear that he had taken it permanently the next year and that he was going to live there all the time, winter and summer.”
    “Why were you surprised?”
    “He seemed too young to retire, and anyhow, it was only a summer place for his sort. It seemed a queer thing for a man to do. I thought perhaps there was something funny about him, but Armin Vaughan said he thought he was a good man. That was at the beginning.
    “I met him there one evening—at Gelli, I mean—and we had some talk. I invited him to my house, and I went to his; but I am afraid I was not grand enough for him, and I did not see very much of him. I thought he was quite a respectable gentleman, but I did not like his airs. I know I am only a plain man, but I am B.A. and I know something about my country, so I do not like to be told I am wrong when I am right. Oxford is a very fine place, and a very respectable place, I am sure, but that is not to say that every man who comes from there knows everything. A village schoolmaster may know better sometimes indeed.
    “Yes, I must say I did not like his airs, though I did not take it seriously then, and it was always Good day, Mr. Lloyd, Good day, Mr. Pugh, when we met in the village or in Llan. But I did not go and push myself on him; it would not have been right, even if I had liked his airs, me being so much an older man, and with a certain position in the neighborhood, and he did not come to see me. It was not until he fell ill in the autumn and was taken down to Gelli that I saw much of him. I visited him when he was ill, and when my cousin Pritchard Ellis, the well-known preacher, came to stay there I often went in the evenings to hear them talk. This was when Mr. Pugh was better again but was still lodging at Gelli.
    “It was a real pleasure to hear them talk. I did not like him very much then, but I admired the flow of language he had, and certainly he was very well informed: of course, he had no chance with Pritchard Ellis, the best talker I have ever heard, in Welsh or English. It did give me a kind of satisfaction, too, to hear him worsted: it showed we could stand up for ourselves in Wales, even without all the advantages. Once or twice he seemed to get the better of it, but Pritchard explained to me afterwards why this was; and once he became really violent about some political argument—I was not attending—and the discussion had to be stopped. No; in general he had no chance against Pritchard Ellis.
    “Well, that was my opinion of Mr. Pugh at that time. I did not care for him, nor did Pritchard, but he seemed to be an honest, respectable, quiet man, though proud and conceited.”

Pugh

    T hat spring my uncle Caley, the lawyer, died: I had not seen him for twenty years and I had never liked him (an angry starched white prig) any more than he liked