‘Rest,’ said Mrs Llewellyn sympathisingly, ‘of course you want rest, my poor child, and you shall have it here. They’ve worked you too hard in London. I was afraid of it when I heard what Hetty had to tell me about you. But you shall rest now, my bonnie lass, you shall rest now!’ CHAPTER VIII. Farmer Owen was considered quite a proficient on the violin in Usk, and as soon as the party, with the exception of Nell, had discussed the good things provided for them, he drew his instrument from its green baize case, and proceeded to play a plaintive ballad. His friends listened with respectful attention, but the melancholy strain was too much for Nell’s over-strung nerves. ‘Oh, give us something livelier, Mr Owen, do,’ she cried, jumping up from her seat. ‘“Robin Adair” is enough to give one the blues! Let’s have a dance instead. Here, Hetty, help me to wheel the table into the corner, and we’ll stand up for a good old country reel. Did I tell you that Lord Ilfracombe is married? We’ll dance in honour of the wedding.’ ‘The earl _married_!’ exclaimed her sister, standing still in her amazement. ‘Why, Nell, when did that happen? Wasn’t it very sudden? You said nothing about it when we were in London.’ ‘Oh, it seems he had been thinking of it for a long while, but gentlemen don’t tell their secrets to their servants, you know. They take the responsibility and trouble and expense, and all the servants have to do is to smile and look happy and dance at the wedding. Come along, Hugh,’ she continued, pulling that young man by the arm, ‘you shall be my partner. Hetty and Will must open the ball, of course, but we’ll show them how to dance at it. Up the middle and down again; hands across and turn your partner; as we used in the days gone by. That’s right, Mr Owen, give us “Yankee Doodle.” That’s the tune to make one’s feet fly. Now, Hugh!’ She was dragging at his arm as hard as she could to make him rise from his seat, and she looked so beautiful, with her flushed cheeks and disordered hair, that he found it hard to resist her. ‘But Nell--Miss Llewellyn,’ he remonstrated shyly, ‘you forget--I cannot--it would not be seemly for me in my character as minister to dance. I have not done such a thing for years, and I shall never do it again.’ Nell regarded him for a moment with grave surprise, and then, with a hard laugh, flung his hand away from her. ‘You stupid! Do you really mean it? So much the worse for you. I shall dance with my dad, then. _He_ won’t refuse me; will you, daddy? You’ll have a fling with your girl in honour of her master’s wedding.’