James Bowen looked utterly bewildered; he had evidently been drinking heavily and had not even heard of the surrender; had he done so he would hardly have come back to Trehowel, but would have made off into the interior. But Nancy’s contempt roused him somewhat. “It was your own fault,” he said, sullenly, “you drove me away from here, you drove me to the bad.” “And I suppose I drove you to steal a horse and then to break out of gaol, and to run off to France, and to fetch back foreigners here—showing them the entrance to Carreg Gwastad Creek! I helped in that too, perhaps?” “You needn’t pretend to be so particular, you’ve taken up with a smuggler yourself,” growled James. Nancy’s face flamed, but she took a step nearer to Davy and placed her hand in his defiantly. “It is truth indeed, and I’m going to marry him too, for if he is a smuggler, he is an honest boy and isn’t a traitor. I’d have thought nothing of the horse or the gaol—but to betray your own people to strangers—let me get out of the sight of you. ‘Cursed for ever and throughout all ages be the traitor.’” And with this vigorous denunciation of a crime so utterly hateful to the Welsh people, that they even abhor giving evidence in a court of justice, Nancy turned her back on the traitor at once and for ever, and hastily entering her domain at Trehowel, proceeded to restore the silver spoons to their own place. The kindly dusk hid much of the damage that had been done; and after three days’ absence, at the same hour as when she had quitted it, Nancy George was restored to the sovereignty of the kitchen at Trehowel. And so ended in gladness of heart and rejoicing, Friday the 24th day of February, 1797; and so ended in pain and tribulation to themselves the three days’ invasion of the French at Fishguard. SEQUEL. _THE GOLDEN PRISON AT PEMBROKE_. CHAPTER XI. THE GENERAL THANKSGIVING. As I have already mentioned, some of the prisoners were sent to Haverfordwest Gaol—which, being situated in the old castle, was a commodious and roomy resort; others were placed, temporarily, in the churches of St. Mary, St. Thomas, and St. Martin: others again were sent to Carmarthen, under the escort of the Romney Fencible Cavalry, the officers being conveyed on horseback and allowed their parole; but the greater part of the French force finally found themselves confined in the Golden Prison at Pembroke. They were taken there and also to Milford by water; and not a few died on board the vessels, being closely shut up under deck. Finally, five hundred of them were safely landed and incarcerated in the Golden Prison, the state of which, with all this overcrowding, could hardly have been so delightful as its name might lead the imaginative to suppose.