"But the girl was gone. It was not to Mrs. Campbell she could make a moan. It was only the night wind that caught the 'Oh, cruel! cruel!' which broke from her as she went up the hill. Whether she slept that night at all I am not able to say. Only that when it was dawn she was out upon the cliffs, her face very white and sad-looking. The fishermen who were up early, going out with the ebb, saw her at times walking fast and then standing still and looking seaward. But I do not know what she was thinking, only I should fancy that the gulls had a different cry for her now, and it is certain that when she had returned and came down into the parlor at Court for the funeral, there were none of the Evanses could look her in the face with comfort. "They were all there, of course. Mr. Llewellyn Evans--he was an elderly man, with a gray beard like a bird's nest, and very thick lips--was sitting with his wife on the horsehair sofa. The Evanses of Nant, who were young men with lank faces and black hair combed upward, were by the door. The Evan Bevans were at the table; and there were others, besides Mr. Griffith Hughes, who was undoing some papers when she entered. "He rose and shook hands with her, marking pitifully the dark hollows under her eyes, and inwardly confirming his resolution to get her a substantial settlement. Then he hesitated, looking doubtfully at the others. 'We are going to read the will before the funeral instead of afterward,' he said. "'Oh!' she answered, taken aback--for in truth she had forgotten all about the will. 'I did not know. I will go, and come back later.' "'No, indeed!' cried Mrs. Llewellyn Evans, 'you had better stop and hear the will--though no relation, to be sure.' "But at that moment Gwen Madoc came in, and peered round with a grim air of importance. 'Maybe someone,' she said in a low voice, 'would like to take a last look at the poor master?' "But no one moved. They sighed and shook their heads at one another as if they would like to do so--but no one moved. They were anxious, you see, to hear the will. Only Peggy, who had turned to go out, said, 'Yes, Gwen, I should,' and slipped out with the old woman. "'There is nothing to keep us now?' said Mr. Hughes briskly when the door was closed again. And everyone nodding assent the lawyer went on to read the will, which was not a long one. It was received with a murmur of satisfaction, and much use of pocket-handkerchiefs. "'Very fair!' said Mr. Llewellyn Evans, 'He was a clever man, our old friend.' All the legatees murmured after him 'Very fair!' and a word went round about the home-brewed, and Robert Evans' recipe for it. Then Llewellyn, who thought he ought to be taking the lead at Court now, said it was about time to be going to church.