How Green Was My Valley Page #4

out on the mountain.

- Will you?

- Indeed I will, sir.

Then you will.

I could almost wish

that I were lying there in your place

if it meant reading

this book again for the first time.

Treasure Island.

Mr Gruffydd?

- I couldn't let you go without thanking you.

- It was only my duty, girl.

No. It was more than duty.

Yes. Huw's a fine boy.

And you're a fine family.

You'd better be going in now.

You'll catch your death.

Will you be coming to supper soon?

Yes. Later, when you're finished

with doctors and such.

- I will hurry them away, then.

- Good.

"Squire Trelawney, Dr Livesey,

and the rest of these gentlemen

having asked me to write down the

whole particulars about Treasure Island

from the beginning to the end, keeping

nothing back but the bearings of the island,

and only because there is

still treasure not yet lifted,

I take up my pen in the year of grace 1785,

and go back to the time when

my father kept the 'Admiral Benbow' inn."

All the noble books which have

lived in my mind ever since,

and always I hoped, and kept my faith.

For the first months

my mother was still upstairs,

and we could talk to each other with tappings.

Spring?

There you are, girl.

Easy.

There.

Wait.

It's the old snow got into it.

Gwilym.

There is a wife you have, resting in her bed

and letting strangers care for her family.

There is a wife I have, then.

Go along with you, boy.

Will you say something, Mother?

Go on, say something.

What can I say?

You found plenty to say last time you spoke.

It should be easier now, with friends.

Well...

Well... Come and eat, everyone.

More, is it, boys?

Lanto.

I haven't seen you in chapel lately.

- I have been too busy.

- What business, may I ask?

- Mine.

- Only asking a civil question, I was.

And having a civil answer.

I have been busy with the union.

Unions are the work of the Devil.

You will come to no good end.

At least I am not sitting on it,

talking rubbish in chapel.

- Look here...

- Leave it, or I'll say something to be sorry.

This is a matter that requires airing.

Lanto, why do you think

we at the chapel talk rubbish?

My remark was not aimed at you.

Then aim it.

Very well.

Because you make yourselves out

to be shepherds of the flock,

and yet you allow your sheep

to live in filth and poverty.

And if they try and raise

their voices against it,

you calm them by telling them

their suffering is the will of God.

Sheep, indeed. Are we sheep to be herded

and sheared by a handful of owners?

I was taught man was made

in the image of God, not a sheep.

- Lanto.

- I haven't expressed my views

because I haven't had any wish

to interfere in a family disagreement.

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