It was also Shanno's great delight to throw open her doors to the lads of Master Taylor's school, especially to his own three motherless boys and their inseparable friend little Elidore of Caer Caradoc, and on many a holiday afternoon the old halls would ring with the merry boyish voices till twilight would draw them by common consent to Lady Shanno's boudoir, where clustering round the glowing fire they would coax the old boatman, seated in his old oak chair in the ingle-nook, to tell them tales of his own boyish days, specially delighting to hear him recount the history of the building of his beloved bridge, on which he could expatiate for hours together, telling of hairbreadth escapes from drowning in connection therewith and of adventures at flood-time such as are ever dear to the boyish soul. And often while his flock were safe in the charge of their heroine, to whom they vied with each other in devotion, Master Taylor, with books under each arm, would gladly slip away to Cwmfelin Parsonage, to enjoy a few quiet hours with his friend Percival Vere in the old wainscotted library, where already the vicar could boast of shelves of books hardly less noteworthy than those of his aged friend and predecessor good Master Rhys. There the two young clergymen were wont to spend many a delightful hour in literary conversation and pursuits, Master Taylor bringing with him precious manuscripts of his own, and reading aloud to his friend passages from the works on which he was diligently engaged in his leisure moments between school-hours, and on which he delighted to receive Percival's ever-ready sympathy, and such advice as his humility could be prevailed upon to give to one whom he regarded as of infinitely greater learning than himself. Especially did the friends take counsel together upon the production of Master Taylor's _Golden Grove_, written, among other books, during this time of exile, and with much interest Percival awaited its completion, feeling with Jeremy himself that the day was not far off when the use of the Book of Common Prayer would be surely prohibited for a season, and that in such a deprivation this work of his friend's would be of greatest value and comfort. Indeed the young vicar was beginning to feel that ere long he too might share Master Taylor's fate in losing his cure and being forced to hide his head till the storms of increasing religious agitation had blown over, and he often contemplated with pain and dread the day when his beloved little church on the hillside should in its turn be desecrated by the sacrilegious hand of Cromwell. Such a grievous calamity seemed indeed only too perilously near, when Caer Cynau itself was invaded by the Republican army in the year 1648, and the country-side rang for months with the wild excitement of the sieges of Pembroke and Tenby castles. Indeed it was but just across the river, beyond the wooded hills which ran along its farther shore, that, on the lonely heights of Glascoed,