"Their strength is in their co-working ... their inseparable dependence on each other's being, and their essential and perfect depending on their Creator's."--RUSKIN. "Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will." --SHAKESPEARE, Twilight was fast gathering in the valley, and blotting out from view the ruined towers of Bryn Afon, as one early evening in March in the year 1643 a group of men stood talking earnestly together at the threshold of Jack the boatman's cottage by the riverside. A bleak wind blew along the valley, and every now and then flakes of snow stole silently down like white spirits through the gloom and softly touched the faces of the speakers, who were, however, too deeply engrossed in their conversation to pay heed to wind or weather. "It is indeed true that the king has fled from London," said Evans the miller, sinking his voice to a mysterious whisper. "The news was brought to me this forenoon by one of the waiting-men of the Lady of Caer Caradoc, who has been sent by her lord to the safe shelter of their ancient castle the while he follows the fortunes of our unhappy king. She tarries this night at Bryn Afon with her infant son and one or two of her suite, and from the mouth of this her serving-man, who is well known to me, I have heard strange tales of the troublous times at Court, of which we scarce hear our fair share in these remote parts. I have ever said it was an ill day for our king when he signed the death-warrant of my Lord Strafford. Mind you the day when the news of his execution reached us? I warrant me the king hath borne but an uneasy conscience since that fatal day." "I call to mind the day well enough," said old Jack the boatman sadly, "for it was the very day when I had hoped to hear the marriage-bells of my sweet foster-daughter and our beloved vicar ring through the valley, and my heart was heavy with their sorrows and aching sorely for their woe when the news of our king's dealing with his friend added yet another pang to its misery. Methinks, good friends, it will soon be time for each man to forget his own sorrows in those of his country, for, if I mistake not, we are on the eve of grievous war and bloodshed, and who can tell where it shall end?"