the doom of the griffiths-第2部分

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neglected；　while　the　little　Owen　was　king　of　the　house；　still　next　to

his　father；　none　tended　him　so　lovingly　as　his　sister。　　She　was　so

accustomed　to　give　way　to　him　that　it　was　no　longer　a　hardship。　　By

night　and　by　day　Owen　was　the　constant　companion　of　his　father；　and

increasing　years　seemed　only　to　confirm　the　custom。　　It　was　an

unnatural　life　for　the　child；　seeing　no　bright　little　faces　peering

into　his　own　（for　Augharad　was；　as　I　said　before；　five　or　six　years

older；　and　her　face；　poor　motherless　girl！　was　often　anything　but

bright）；　hearing　no　din　of　clear　ringing　voices；　but　day　after　day

sharing　the　otherwise　solitary　hours　of　his　father；　whether　in　the

dim　room；　surrounded　by　wizard…like　antiquities；　or　pattering　his

little　feet　to　keep　up　with　his　〃tada〃　in　his　mountain　rambles　or

shooting　excursions。　　When　the　pair　came　to　some　little　foaming

brook；　where　the　stepping…stones　were　far　and　wide；　the　father

carried　his　little　boy　across　with　the　tenderest　care；　when　the　lad

was　weary；　they　rested；　he　cradled　in　his　father's　arms；　or　the

Squire　would　lift　him　up　and　carry　him　to　his　home　again。　　The　boy

was　indulged　（for　his　father　felt　flattered　by　the　desire）　in　his

wish　of　sharing　his　meals　and　keeping　the　same　hours。　　All　this

indulgence　did　not　render　Owen　unamiable；　but　it　made　him　wilful；　and

not　a　happy　child。　　He　had　a　thoughtful　look；　not　common　to　the　face

of　a　young　boy。　　He　knew　no　games；　no　merry　sports；　his　information

was　of　an　imaginative　and　speculative　character。　　His　father

delighted　to　interest　him　in　his　own　studies；　without　considering　how

far　they　were　healthy　for　so　young　a　mind。



Of　course　Squire　Griffiths　was　not　unaware　of　the　prophecy　which　was

to　be　fulfilled　in　his　generation。　　He　would　occasionally　refer　to　it

when　among　his　friends；　with　sceptical　levity；　but　in　truth　it　lay

nearer　to　his　heart　than　he　chose　to　acknowledge。　　His　strong

imagination　rendered　him　peculiarly　impressible　on　such　subjects；

while　his　judgment；　seldom　exercised　or　fortified　by　severe　thought；

could　not　prevent　his　continually　recurring　to　it。　　He　used　to　gaze

on　the　half…sad　countenance　of　the　child；　who　sat　looking　up　into　his

face　with　his　large　dark　eyes；　so　fondly　yet　so　inquiringly；　till　the

old　legend　swelled　around　his　heart；　and　became　too　painful　for　him

not　to　require　sympathy。　　Besides；　the　overpowering　love　he　bore　to

the　child　seemed　to　demand　fuller　vent　than　tender　words；　it　made　him

like；　yet　dread；　to　upbraid　its　object　for　the　fearful　contrast

foretold。　　Still　Squire　Griffiths　told　the　legend；　in　a　half…jesting

manner；　to　his　little　son；　when　they　were　roaming　over　the　wild

heaths　in　the　autumn　days；　〃the　saddest　of　the　year；〃　or　while　they

sat　in　the　oak…wainscoted　room；　surrounded　by　mysterious　relics　that

gleamed　strangely　forth　by　the　flickering　fire…light。　　The　legend　was

wrought　into　the　boy's　mind；　and　he　would　crave；　yet　tremble；　to　hear

it　told　over　and　over　again；　while　the　words　were　intermingled　with

caresses　and　questions　as　to　his　love。　　Occasionally　his　loving　words

and　actions　were　cut　short　by　his　father's　light　yet　bitter　speech

〃Get　thee　away；　my　lad；　thou　knowest　not　what　is　to　come　of　all　this

love。〃



When　Augharad　was　seventeen；　and　Owen　eleven　or　twelve；　the　rector　of

the　parish　in　which　Bodowen　was　situated；　endeavoured　to　prevail　on

Squire　Griffiths　to　send　the　boy　to　school。　　Now；　this　rector　had

many　congenial　tastes　with　his　parishioner；　and　was　his　only

intimate；　and；　by　repeated　arguments；　he　succeeded　in　convincing　the

Squire　that　the　unnatural　life　Owen　was　leading　was　in　every　way

injurious。　　Unwillingly　was　the　father　wrought　to　part　from　his　son；

but　he　did　at　length　send　him　to　the　Grammar　School　at　Bangor；　then

under　the　management　of　an　excellent　classic。　　Here　Owen　showed　that

he　had　more　talents　than　the　rector　had　given　him　credit　for；　when　he

affirmed　that　the　lad　had　been　completely　stupefied　by　the　life　he

led　at　Bodowen。　　He　bade　fair　to　do　credit　to　the　school　in　the

peculiar　branch　of　learning　for　which　it　was　famous。　　But　he　was　not

popular　among　his　schoolfellows。　　He　was　wayward；　though；　to　a

certain　degree；　generous　and　unselfish；　he　was　reserved　but　gentle；

except　when　the　tremendous　bursts　of　passion　（similar　in　character　to

those　of　his　father）　forced　their　way。



On　his　return　from　school　one　Christmas…time；　when　he　had　been　a　year

or　so　at　Bangor；　he　was　stunned　by　hearing　that　the　undervalued

Augharad　was　about　to　be　married　to　a　gentleman　of　South　Wales；

residing　near　Aberystwith。　　Boys　seldom　appreciate　their　sisters；　but

Owen　thought　of　the　many　slights　with　which　he　had　requited　the

patient　Augharad；　and　he　gave　way　to　bitter　regrets；　which；　with　a

selfish　want　of　control　over　his　words；　he　kept　expressing　to　his

father；　until　the　Squire　was　thoroughly　hurt　and　chagrined　at　the

repeated　exclamations　of　〃What　shall　we　do　when　Augharad　is　gone？〃

〃How　dull　we　shall　be　when　Augharad　is　married！〃　　Owen's　holidays

were　prolonged　a　few　weeks；　in　order　that　he　might　be　present　at　the

wedding；　and　when　all　the　festivities　were　over；　and　the　bride　and

bridegroom　had　left　Bodowen；　the　boy　and　his　father　really　felt　how

much　they　missed　the　quiet；　loving　Augharad。　　She　had　performed　so

many　thoughtful；　noiseless　little　offices；　on　which　their　daily

comfort　depended；　and　now　she　was　gone；　the　household　seemed　to　miss

the　spirit　that　peacefully　kept　it　in　order；　the　servants　roamed

about　in　search　of　commands　and　directions；　the　rooms　had　no　longer

the　unobtrusive　ordering　of　taste　to　make　them　cheerful；　the　very

fires　burned　dim；　and　were　always　sinking　down　into　dull　heaps　of

gray　ashes。　　Altogether　Owen　did　not　regret　his　return　to　Bangor；　and

this　also　the　mortified　parent　perceived。　　Squire　Griffiths　was　a

selfish　parent。



Letters　in　those　days　were　a　rare　occurrence。　　Owen　usually　received

one　during　his　half…yearly　absences　from　home；　and　occasionally　his

father　paid　him　a　visit。　　This　half…year　the　boy　had　no　visit；　nor

even　a　letter；　till　very　near　the　time　of　his　leaving　school；　and

then　he　was　astounded　by　the　intelligence　that　his　father　was　married

again。



Then　came　one　of　his　paroxysms　of　rage；　the　more　disastrous　in　its

effects　upon　his　character　because　it　could　find　no　vent　in　action。

Independently　of　slight　to　the　memory　of　the　first　wife　which

children　are　so　apt　to　fancy　such　an　action　implies；　Owen　had

hitherto　considered　himself　（and　with　justice）　the　first　object　of

his　father's　life。　　They　had　been　so　much　to　each　other；　and　now　a

shapeless；　but　too　real　something　had　come　between　him　and　his　father

there　for　ever。　　He　felt　as　if　his　permission　should　have　been　asked；

as　if　he　should　have　been　consulted。　　Certainly　he　ought　to　have　been

told　of　the　intended　event。　　So　the　Squire　felt；　and　hence　his

constrained　letter　which　had　so　much　increased　the　bitterness　of

Owen's　feelings。



With　all　this　anger；　when　Owen　saw　his　stepmother；　he　thought　he　had

never　seen　so　beautiful　a　woman　for　her　age；　for　she　was　no　longer　in

the　bloom　of　youth；　being　a　widow　when　his　father　married　her。　　Her

manners；　to　the　Welsh　lad；　who　had　seen　little　of　female　grace　among

the　families　of　the　few　antiquarians　with　whom　his　father　visited；

were　so　fascinating　that　he　watched　her　with　a　sort　of　breathless

admiration。　　Her　measured　grace；　her　faultless　movements；　her　tones

of　voice；　sweet；　till　the　ear　was　sated　with　their　sweetness；　made

Owen　less　angry　at　his　father's　marriage。　　Yet　he　felt；　more　than

ever；　that　the　cloud　was　between　him　and　his　father；　that　the　hasty

letter　he　had　sent　in　answer　to　the　announcement　of　his　wedding　was

not　forgotten；　although　no　allusion　was　ever　made　to　it。　　He　was　no

longer　his　father's　confidanthardly　ever　his　father's　companion；

for　the　newly…married　wife　was　all　in　all　to　the　Squire；　and　his　son

felt　himself　almost　a　cipher；　where　he　had　so　long　been　everything。

The　lady　herself　had　ever　the　softest　consideration　for　her　stepson；

almost　too　obtrusive　was　the　attention　paid　to　his　wishes；　but　still

he　fancied　that　the　heart　had　no　part　in　the　winning　advances。　　There

was　a　watchful　glance　of　the　eye　that　Owen　once　or　twice　caught　when

she　had　imagined　herself　unobserved；　and　many　other　nameless　little

circumstances；　that　gave　him　a　strong　feeling　of　want　of　sincerity　in

his　stepmother。　　Mrs。　Owen　brought　with　her　into　the　family　her

little　child　by　her　first　husband；　a　boy　nearly　three　years　old。　　He

was　one　of　those　elfish；　observant；　mocking　children；　over　whose

feelings　you　seem　to　have　no　control：　　agile　and　mischievous；　his

little　practical　jokes；　at　first　performed　in　ignorance　of　the　pain

he　gave；　but　afterward　proceeding　to　a　malicious　pleasure　in

suffering；　really　seemed　to　afford　some　ground　to　the　superstitious

notion　of　some　of　the　common　people　that　he　was　a　fairy　changeling。



Years　passed　on；　and　as　Owen　grew　older　he　became　more　observant。　　He

saw；　even　in　his　occasional　visits　at　home　（for　from　school　he　had

passed　on　to　college）；　that　a　great　change　had　taken　place　in　the

outward　manifestations　of　his　father's　character；　and；　by　degrees；

Owen　traced　this　change　to　the　influence　of　his　stepmother；　so

slight；　so　imperceptible　to　the　common　observer；　yet　so　resistless　in

its　effects。　　Squire　Griffiths　caught　up　his　wife's　humbly　advanced

opinions；　and；　unawares　to　himself；　adopted　them　as　his　own；　defying

all　argument　and　opposition。　　It　was　the　same　with　her　wishes；　they

met　their　fulfilment；　from　the　extreme　and　delicate　art　with　which

she　insinuated　them　into　her　husband's　mind；　as　his　own。　　She

sacrificed　the　show　of　authority　for　the　power。　　At　last；　when　Owen

perceived　some　oppressive　act　in　his　father's　conduct　toward　his

dependants；　or　some　unaccountable　thwarting　of　his　own　wishes；　he

fancied　he　saw　his　stepmother's　secret　influence　thus　di