Blair Collection > Rhys Lewis, minister of Bethel

RHYS LEWIS.
some coming evil. Bob's companion's haying left, but little
talk took place in our house that night. My brother pretended
to read, but I noticed he did not turn the leaves of his book,
and knew very well he did not give a thought to anything it
contained.
Late at night, as we were about to retire, we heard footsteps
approaching the house. Next minute a knock came to the door,
and, before we had time to open, two oflficers of police came in.
Mother's face grew pale, and I began to cry my loudest. Bob
ordered me to desist, but it was with difficulty I could master
my feelings. Bob, perfectly self-possessed, invited the officers
to take a seat, which they did. Although never much in love
with either of them, I must admit that they were a couple of
very civil men, and that both considered their duty that night
an unpleasant one. I was glad they were Welsh, because
mother, in that case, could understand all they said.
"I think," observed Bob quietly, "that I know your
errand,"
" Well," said Sergeant Williams, looking towards my mother,
"it is a disagreeable errand enough, Eobert Lewis, we must
say. But I hope all will come off right on Monday. Mrs.
Lewis," he went on, handing Bob the warrant to read, in order
to spare my mothers feelings, "don't be frightened, it is only a
matter of form. We must do our duty, you know, and, as I
have said, I hope everything will turn out right on Monday."
Mother said nothing, but the twitching of her mouth, and the
lump in her throat, showed clearly the state of her feelings.
Bob drew his boots on leisurely, and with the parting word,
" Mother you know where to turn ; my conscience is at ease,"
walked away with the officers. They had hardly gone twenty
yards from the house, when I heard high words and a struggle.
Despite my mother's efforts to restrain me, I ran out, and saw
a desperate encounter going on between the officers and two
strange men. One, a tall powerful fellow, knocked the con-
stables about unmercifully. The other was but of middling
size, but a perfect master of the work he had on hand. I had
no difficulty in recognising the latter. It was the man who
stopped me on my way home the night Seth died, and whom I
had christened " the Irishman." I could not tell who the other