It came like a thunderbolt, in the person of Mr. Pryse, to make an authoritative demand for the half-year's rent, then overdue.
It was in vain Mrs. Edwards declared it had been paid; that she had sent the money by Evan Evans.
'In that case you will have the receipt. Produce it,' said he, with a sneer.
'I cannot,' replied she, in much perplexity. 'Evan has not yet returned. But he was seen to enter your office; yes, indeed!'
'Oh yes, he did come to my office to pay your neighbour Owen Griffith's rent, and to beg a fortnight's grace for you. I have been good enough to give you three weeks, and now I _must_ have the rent--one way or other.'
The evil smile of triumph on his wicked old face, as he said this, was lost on Mrs. Edwards in her consternation.
'Beg _what_? I did want no fortnight's grace. I did send the golden guineas!'
Mr. Pryse's thin lip curled. 'Then your man kept them. And it is rather strange he should pay Griffith's rent if he meant to make off with yours. There must be lying and dishonesty somewhere.'
'Yes, indeed,' broke from Ales, in a passion of indignant wrath. 'But not from my mistress or Evan Evans; they do both be God-fearing and true.'
An ominous scowl drew down the brows under the English three-cornered hat.
'Silence, you impudent jade, or I'll have you cast into jail for your vile insinuations. Wait until your _honest_ Evan comes back before you venture to asperse his lordship's deputy.' And he raised his riding-whip as if to strike her.
Rhys had come upon the scene in the midst of this altercation, brought thither by a word from Lewis, who had seen the agent ride up the hill, with a sinister smile upon his face, and a ruffianly fellow in his rear.
At once the hot-blooded young farmer, in a smock-frock showing many an earthy stain, interposed between his mother's faithful domestic and the steward, unawed by the gold lace or ruffles visible under the open riding-coat.
'Nay, nay, we don't take whips to women in Eglwysilan, Mr. Pryse. What is all this uproar about? And what do be your business here, sir?'
His mother attempted an explanation. Ales had shrunk back overawed.
'I have come for the unpaid rent, and the costs attending this application,' Mr. Pryse thrust in, heedless of Rhys' disclaimer that 'nothing was owing'; 'and, as no cash appears to be forthcoming, I take possession of the farm in the name of his lordship, and leave this man in charge of the premises, and I warn you against removing stock or stone. Take the inventory, Morgan'--to the man who had edged himself into the kitchen, and now put on a truculent air.