The Cauldron of Ceridwen by C. ap Arthur - a pagan story

SIR DAVID PROSSER was in his study at Parcyrun.  The lamp, green-shaded, stood on his desk to the left of the fireplace; its light fell on a litter of manuscripts there, some in his own or his secretary's handwriting, some ancient.  It left the room, with its book-lined walls, for the most part, to the half obscurity and tremulous shadows of the fire-light.       Sir David had turned from his work, and sat in a low, deep-seated chair before the fire:  his outward vision occupied with the flame-flicker, but giving no news of it, nor of any externals, to his mind.  Which, indeed, had a matter more insistent to brood over:  surprise, acquiescence, protest, indifference, rebellion against fate - mostly, perhaps, a very ungracious acquiescence.  - So it might come at any time . . .