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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18758-8.txt b/18758-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e25f38 --- /dev/null +++ b/18758-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10573 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, By Berwen Banks, by Allen Raine + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: By Berwen Banks + + +Author: Allen Raine + + + +Release Date: July 4, 2006 [eBook #18758] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY BERWEN BANKS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +BY BERWEN BANKS + +a Novel + +by + +ALLEN RAINE + +Author of "A Welsh Singer," "Torn Sails," etc. + +111TH THOUSAND + + + + + + + +London +Hutchinson & Co. +Paternoster Row + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. BERWEN BANKS + II. THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF + III. THE SASSIWN + IV. THE STORM + V. GWYNNE ELLIS ARRIVES + VI. CORWEN AND VALMAI + VII. THE VICAR'S STORY + VIII. THE OLD REGISTER + IX. REUBEN STREET + X. THE WEB OF FATE + XI. THE "BLACK DOG" + XII. A CLIMAX + XIII. "THE BABIES' CORNER" + XIV. UNREST + XV. THE SISTERS + XVI. DISPERSING CLOUDS + XVII. HOME AGAIN + XVIII. THE VELVET WALK + XIX. THE MEREDITHS + XX. GWLADYS + XXI. INTO THE SUNSHINE + + + + +BY BERWEN BANKS. + + +CHAPTER I. + +BERWEN BANKS. + +Caer Madoc is a sleepy little Welsh town, lying two miles from the sea +coast. Far removed from the busy centres of civilisation, where the +battle of life breeds keen wits and deep interests, it is still, in the +opinion of its inhabitants, next to London, the most important place in +the United Kingdom. It has its church and three chapels, its mayor and +corporation, jail, town hall, and market-place; but, more especially, +it has its fairs, and awakes to spasmodic jollity on such occasions, +which come pretty often--quite ten times in the year. In the interims +it resigns itself contentedly to its normal state of lethargy. + +The day on which my story opens had seen the busiest and merriest fair +of the year, and the evening found the little town looking jaded and +disreputable after its few hours of dissipation, the dusty High Street +being littered with scraps of paper, orange-peel, and such like +_débris_. The merry-go-rounds and the "shows" had departed, the last +donkey-cart had rattled out of the town, laden with empty gingerbread +boxes. + +In the stable of the Red Dragon three men stooped in conclave over the +hind foot of a horse. Deio, the ostler, and Roberts, the farrier, +agreed in their verdict for a wonder; and Caradoc Wynne, the owner of +the horse, straightened himself from his stooping posture with a nod of +decision. + +"Yes, it's quite plain I mustn't ride him to-night," he said. "Well, +I'll leave him under your care, Roberts, and will either come or send +for him to-morrow." + +"Needn't do that, sir," said Roberts, "for I am going myself to +Abersethin on Friday; that will give him one day's complete rest, and +I'll bring him up gently with my nag." + +"That will do better," said the young man. "Take care of him, Deio," +he added, in good, broad Welsh, "and I will pay you well for your +trouble," and, with a pat on Captain's flank and a douceur in Deio's +ready palm, he turned to leave the yard. Looking back from under the +archway which opened into the street, with a parting injunction to +Roberts to "take care of him," he turned up the dusty High Street. + +"Pagh!" he said, "it has been a jolly fair, but it hasn't sweetened the +air. However, I shall soon have left it behind me," and he stepped out +briskly towards the straggling end of the street, which merged into a +wild moorland country. + +"_There's_ a difference between him and his father," said Deio to his +companion, as they led Captain back to his stall. "See the old 'Vicare +du' hunting between his coppers for a threepenny bit! Jâr i man! you +would think it was a sovereign he was looking for." + +"Yes," said Roberts, "the old Vicare is a keen man enough, but just; +always pays his bills regularly; he is not as black as they make him +out to be." + +"No, I daresay! They say the devil isn't, either," said Deio. + +It was very evident the person in question was no favourite of his. + +Meanwhile Caradoc, or Cardo as he was called all over the country side, +the "Vicare du's" only son, had begun his tramp homewards with a light +heart and a brisk step. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with +health and youthful energy expressed in every limb and feature, with +jet black hair and sparkling eyes to match. His dark, almost swarthy +face, was lighted up by a pleasant smile, which seemed ever hovering +about the corners of his mouth, and which would make itself evident in +spite of the moustache which threatened to hide it. + +The band of the local militia was practising in the open market hall as +he passed, and an old Welsh air struck familiarly on his ear. + +"They'll wonder what's become of me at home," he thought, "or rather +Betto will. I don't suppose my father would notice my absence, so long +as I was home to supper. Poor old dad!" he added, and a grave look +came over his face. + +In truth it was not a very cheerful home to which he was returning, but +it _was_ home, and had been his from childhood. It had been the home +also of his ancestors for generations, which, to a Welshman, means a +great deal, for the ties of home are in the very roots of his being. +Home draws him from the furthermost ends of the earth, and leaving it, +adds bitterness even to death. + +His mother had died at his birth, so that the sacred word "mother" had +never been more than a name to him, and he had taught himself to banish +the thought of her from his mind; in fact an indescribable uneasiness +always leapt up within his heart when her name was mentioned, and that +was very rarely, for his father never spoke of her, and old Betto, the +head servant, but seldom, and then with such evident sadness and +reticence, that an undefined, though none the less crushing fear, had +haunted him from childhood upwards. As he stepped out so bravely this +soft spring evening, the look of disquietude did not remain long on his +face. At twenty-four life has not lost its rosy tints; heart, mind, +and body are fresh and free to take a share in all its opening scenes, +more especially if, as in Cardo's case, love, the disturber, has not +yet put in an appearance. + +As he reached the brow of the hill beyond the town, the white dusty +road stretched like a sinuous snake over the moor before him, while on +the left, the sea lay soft and grey in the twilight, and the moon rose +full and bright on his right. The evening air was very still, but an +occasional strain of the band he had left behind him reached his ears, +and with a musical voice he hummed the old Welsh air which came +fitfully on the breeze: + + "By Berwen's banks my love hath strayed, + For many a day in sun and shade; + And while she carols loud and clear, + The little birds fly down to hear. + + "By Berwen's banks the storm rose high, + The swollen river rushing by! + Beneath its waves my love was drowned + And on its banks my love was found!" + + +Suddenly he was aware of a cloaked figure walking about a hundred yards +in front of him. "Who's that, I wonder?" he thought, and then, +forgetting its existence, he continued his song: + + "I'll ne'er forget that leafy shade! + I'll ne'er forget that winsome maid! + But there no more she carols free, + So Berwen's banks are sad to me!" + + +By and by, at a curve in the road, he again noticed the figure in front +of him, and quickened his steps; but it did the same, and the distance +between them was not lessened, so Cardo gave it up, and continued his +song. When the strain came to a natural ending, he looked again with +some interest at the grey figure ever moving on, and still seeming to +keep at the same distance from him. Once more he quickened his steps, +and again the figure did likewise. "Diwss anwl!" he said. "I am not +going to run after an old woman who evidently does not want my +company." And he tramped steadily on under the fast darkening sky. +For quite three miles he had followed the vanishing form, and as he +reached the top of the moor, he began to feel irritated by the +persistent manner in which his fellow-traveller refused to shorten the +distance between them. It roused within him the spirit of resistance, +and he could be very dogged sometimes in spite of his easy manner. +Having once determined, therefore, to come up with the mysterious +pedestrian, he rapidly covered the ground with his long strides, and +soon found himself abreast of a slim girl, who, after looking shyly +aside at him, continued her walk at the same steady pace. The twilight +had darkened much since he had left the town, but the moonlight showed +him the graceful pose of the head, the light, springy tread, and the +mass of golden hair which escaped from the red hood covering her head. +Cardo took off his cap. + +"Good-night to you," he said. "I hope I have not frightened you by so +persistently trying to catch you." + +"Good-night," said the girl. "Yes, indeed, you have, whatever, because +I am not used to be out in the night. The rabbits have frightened me +too, they are looking so large in this light." + +"I am sorry. It is very brave of you to walk all the way from Caer +Madoc alone." + +"To Abersethin it is not so far," said the girl. + +"Do you live at Abersethin?" + +"Yes, not far off; round the edge of the cliffs, under Moel Hiraethog." + +"Oh! I know," said Cardo; "the mill in the valley?" + +"No, round the next shore, and up to the top of the cliff is our house." + +"Traeth Berwen? That is where _I_ live!" + +"Well, indeed!" + +"Yes, I am Caradoc Wynne, and I live at Brynderyn." + +"Oh! are you Cardo Wynne? I have heard plenty about you, and about +your father, the 'Vicare du.'" + +"Ah! poor old dad! I daresay you have not heard much good of him; the +people do not understand him." + +"Well, indeed, the worst I have heard of him is that he is not very +kind to you; that he is making you to work on the farm, when you ought +to be a gentleman." + +"That is not true," said Cardo, flushing in the darkness; "it is my +wish to be a farmer; I like it better than any other work; it is my own +free choice. Besides, can I not be a farmer and a gentleman too? +Where could I be so happy as here at home, where my ancestors have +lived for generations?" + +"Ancestors?" said the girl; "what is that?" + +"Oh! my grandfather and great-grandfather, and all the long dead of my +family." + +"Yes, indeed, I see. Ancestors," she repeated, with a sort of +scheduling tone, as though making sure of the fresh information; "I do +not know much English, but there's good you are speaking it! Can you +speak Welsh?" + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Cardo, and his voice woke the echoes from Moel +Hiraethog, the hill which they were nearing, and which they must +compass before reaching the valley of the Berwen. "Ha! ha! ha! Can I +speak Welsh? Why, I am Welsh to the core, Cymro glan gloyw![1] What +are you?" + +"Oh! Welsh, of course. You can hear that by my talk." + +"Indeed no," said Cardo. "I did not know anyone at Traeth Berwen could +speak English as well as you do." + +He was longing to find out who his fellow-traveller was. He saw in the +dim light she was slim and fair, and had a wealth of golden hair; he +saw her dress was grey and her hood was red. So much the moonlight +revealed, but further than this he could not discover, and politeness +forbade his asking. As if in answer to his thoughts, however, her next +words enlightened him. + +"I am Valmai Powell, the niece of Essec Powell, the preacher." + +A long, low whistle escaped from the young man's lips. + +"By Jove!" he said. + +The girl was silent, but could he have seen the hot blush which spread +over her face and neck, he would have known that he had roused the +quick Welsh temper. He was unconscious of it, however, and strode on +in silence, until they reached a rough-built, moss-grown bridge, and +here they both stopped as if by mutual consent. Leaning their elbows +on the mossy stone wall, they looked down to the depths below, where +the little river Berwen babbled and whispered on its way to the sea. + +"There's a nice noise it is making down there," said Valmai. "But why +do you say a bad word when I tell you my uncle's name?" + +"A bad word? In your presence? Not for the world! But I could not +help thinking how shocked my father and your uncle would be to see us +walking together." + +"Yes, I think, indeed," said the girl, opening a little basket and +spreading its contents on the low wall. "See!" she said, in almost +childish tones, and turning her face straight to the moonlight. + +Cardo saw, as he looked down at her, that it was a beautiful face. + +"See!" she said, "gingerbread that I bought in that old street they +call 'The Mwntroyd.' Here is a silver ship, and here is a gold watch, +and a golden girl. Which will you have?" + +"Well, indeed, I am as hungry as a hunter," said Cardo. "I will have +the lassie, if you are sure you have enough for two." + +"Anwl! anwl! I have a lamb and a sheep and some little pigs in my +basket." And she proceeded to spread them out and divide them; and +they continued to chat as they ate their gilded gingerbread. + +"Suppose your uncle and my father knew we were standing on the same +bridge and looking at the same moon," said Cardo, laughing. + +"And eating the same gingerbread," added Valmai. + +"My word! There would be wrath." + +"Wrath?" said the girl, looking thoughtfully up in her companion's +face; "what is that?" + +"Oh, something no one could feel towards you. 'Wrath' is anger." + +"My uncle is angry sometimes with me, and--too--with--with--" + +"My father, I suppose?" said Cardo. + +"Yes, indeed," said the girl; "that is true, whatever. Every Wednesday +evening at the prayer-meeting he is praying for the 'Vicare du,' and +Betto told me last week that the Vicare is praying for my uncle on +Tuesday evenings." + +"Oh, Lord! has it come to that?" said Cardo. "Then I'm afraid we can +never hope for peace between them." + +They both laughed, and the girl's rippling tones mingled musically in +Cardo's ears with the gurgle of the Berwen. + +"It is getting late," she said, "we had better go on; but I must say +good-night here, because it is down by the side of the river is my way +to Dinas. You will be nearer to keep on the road till you cross the +valley." + +"No, indeed," said the young man, already preparing to help his +companion over the stone stile. "I will go down by the Berwen too." + +"Anwl," said Valmai, clasping her hands; "it will be a mile further for +you, whatever." + +"A mile is nothing on such a night as this." + +And down to the depths of the dark underwood they passed, by a steep, +narrow path, down through the tangled briers and bending ferns, until +they reached the banks of the stream. The path was but little defined, +and evidently seldom trodden; the stream gurgled and lisped under the +brushwood; the moon looked down upon it and sparkled on its ripples; +and as Valmai led the way, chatting in her broken English, a strange +feeling of happy companionship awoke in Cardo Wynne's heart. + +After threading the narrow pathway for half-a-mile or so, they reached +a sudden bend of the little river, where the valley broadened out +somewhat, until there was room for a grassy, velvet meadow, at the +further corner of which stood the ruins of the old parish church, +lately discarded for the new chapel of ease built on the hillside above +the shore. + +"How black the ruins look in that corner," said Cardo. + +"Yes, and what is that white thing in the window?" said Valmai, in a +frightened whisper, and shrinking a little nearer to her companion. + +"Only a white owl. Here she comes sailing out into the moonlight." + +"Well, indeed, so it is. From here we can hear the sea, and at the +beginning of the shore I shall be turning up to Dinas." + +"And I suppose I must turn in the opposite direction to get to +Brynderyn," said Cardo. "Well, I have never enjoyed a walk from Caer +Madoc so much before. Will they be waiting for you at home, do you +think?" + +"Waiting for me?" laughed the girl, and her laugh was not without a +little trace of bitterness; "who is there to wait for me? No one, +indeed, since my mother is dead. Perhaps to-morrow my uncle might say, +'Where is Valmai? She has never brought me my book.' Here it is, +though," she continued, "safe under the crumbs of the gingerbread. I +bought it in the Mwntroyd. 'Tis a funny name whatever." + +"Yes, a relic of the old Flemings, who settled in Caer Madoc long ago." + +"Oh! I would like to hear about that! Will you tell me about it some +time again?" + +"Indeed I will," said Cardo eagerly; "but when will that be? I have +been wondering all the evening how it is I have never seen you before." + +They had now reached the open beach, where the Berwen, after its +chequered career, subsided quietly through the sand and pebbles into +the sea. + +"Here is my path, but I will tell you," and with the sound of the +gurgling river, and the plash of the waves in his ears, Cardo listened +to her simple story. "You couldn't see me much before, because only +six weeks it is since I am here. Before that I was living far, far +away. Have you ever heard of Patagonia? Well then, my father was a +missionary there, and he took me and my mother with him when I was only +a baby. Since then I have always been living there, till this year I +came to Wales." + +"Patagonia!" said Cardo. "So far away? No wonder you dropped upon me +so suddenly! But how, then, did you grow up Welsh?" + +Valmai laughed merrily. + +"Grow up Welsh? Well, indeed, I don't know what have I grown up! +Welsh, or English, or Spanish, or Patagonian! I am mixed of them all, +I think. Where we were living there was a large settlement of Welsh +people, and my father preached to them. But there were, too, a great +many Spaniards, and many Spanish girls were my friends, and my nurse +was Spanish, so I learnt to speak Welsh and Spanish; but English, only +what I learnt from my father and from books. I don't know it quite +easy yet, but I am coming better every day I think. My father and +mother are dead, both of them--only a few days between them. Another +kind missionary's wife brought me home, and since then I am living with +my uncle. He is quite kind when he notices me, but he is always +reading--reading the old books about the Druids, and Owen Glendwr, and +those old times, and he is forgetting the present; only I must not go +near the church nor the church people, then he is quite kind." + +"How curious!" said Cardo. "You have almost described my father and my +home! I think we ought to be friends with so much in common." + +"Yes, perhaps," said the girl, looking pensively out to sea, where the +sea-horses were tossing up their white manes in the moonlight. "Well, +good-bye," she added, holding out her hand. + +"Good-bye," answered Cardo, taking the proffered hand in a firm, warm +grasp. "Will we meet again soon?" he said, dropping it reluctantly. + +"No, I think," said Valmai, as she began the steep path up the hill. + +Cardo stood a moment looking after her, and as she turned to look back, +he called out: + +"Yes, I hope." + +She waved her hand, and disappeared behind a broom bush. + +"Valmai! Valmai!" he said, as he tramped off in the opposite +direction. "Yes, she is _Valmai_!" [2] + + + +[1] "A pure Welshman." A favourite expression in Wales. + +[2] "Like May." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF. + +The Rev. Meurig Wynne, "y Vicare du," or "the black Vicar," as he was +called by the country people, in allusion to his black hair and eyes, +and also to his black apparel, sat in his musty study, as he had done +every evening for the last twenty-five years, poring ever his old +books, and occasionally jotting down extracts therefrom. He was a +broad-shouldered man, tall and straight, about sixty-five years of age. +His clean-shaven face was white as marble, its cold and lifeless +appearance accentuated by his jet-black hair, strongly-marked eyebrows +of the same dark hue, and his unusually black eyes; his nose was +slightly aquiline, and his mouth well shaped, though wide; but the +firm-set lips and broad nostrils, gave the whole face an expression of +coldness and hardness. In fact he had a peculiarly dour and dark look, +and it was no wonder that when he walked through his parish the little +children left their games in the road, and hurried inside their garden +gates as he passed. + +He was perfectly conscious of this, and it pained him, though no one +guessed it except his son, who felt a tender pity for the man who led +so isolated and solitary a life. + +The cause of his cold reserve Cardo had never been able to discover; +but he somehow connected it with his mother's name, and therefore +shrank from inquiring into his father's past life, preferring to let +old memories sleep, rather than hear anything which might bring sorrow +and pain into his life. + +The Vicar was evidently uneasy, as he looked up listening, with one +thin finger marking the place on the page he was reading. Cardo was +later than usual, and not until he had heard his son's familiar firm +step and whistle did he drop once more into the deep interest of his +book. + +As Cardo approached the house he saw the light in his father's window, +and pictured to himself the cold, pale face bending over the musty +books. "Poor old dad!" he murmured. Some sons would have tapped +playfully at the window, but Cardo did not, he turned round the corner +of the house, passing by the front door, which was closed, and did not +look inviting, to the other side, where the clatter of wooden shoes and +a stream of light from the open doorway made some show of cheerfulness. +And there was Betto, his old nurse and his father's housekeeper, in +loud, angry tones, reproving the shepherd boy who stood leaning against +the door-post. + +"Hello! what's the matter, Betto?" said Cardo in Welsh; "what mischief +has Robin been up to now?" + +"Machgen bach i (my dear boy!), is that you?" said Betto; "there's glad +I am! You are late to-night, and I was beginning to puzzle." + +"Has my father missed me?" + +"Well, indeed, he hasn't said anything," said Betto, hunting for the +frying-pan, and beginning to prepare the ham and eggs for supper. "But +where's that Robin?" she added; "a clout or two with the frying-pan +would not hurt his addle pate." + +"He has been wise, and made himself scarce; but what has he done, +Betto?" + +"What has he done? the villain! Well, you know the sheep are grazing +in the churchyard this week, and that 'mwnki' is watching them there. +Well--he seated himself yesterday on a tombstone when we were in +church, and whit, whit, whitted 'Men of Harlech' on his flute! and the +Vicare praying so beautiful all the time, too! praying against the +wiles of the devil and of Essec Powell!" + +"Essec Powell! What has he been doing?" + +"Well, machgen i, you will not believe! the boldness of those +'Methots' is something beyond! And the impidence of Essec Powell! +What do you think, Caradoc? he is _praying_ for your father--out loud, +mind you!--in the prayer-meeting every Wednesday evening! But there! +the master is beforehand with him, for he is praying for Essec Powell +on Tuesdays!" and she tossed the frizzling ham and eggs on the dish. +"Come to supper, my boy," and Cardo followed her nothing loth into the +gloomy parlour, lighted by one home-made mould candle, for he was +hungry in spite of the ginger-bread. + +"Ah, Caradoc! you have come," said the Vicar, as he entered the room +punctually at the stroke of ten, "what made you so late to-night?" + +"Well," said Cardo, "when Deio, 'Red Dragon,' led Captain out of the +stable, I found the swelling on his leg had risen again, so I left him +with Roberts, the farrier. He will bring him home on Friday." + +"You have ridden him too soon after his sprain, as I told you, but +young men always know better than their elders." + +"Well, you were right anyway this time, father." + +"Yes," said his father; "as the old proverb says, 'Yr hên a wyr yr +ifanc a debyg." [1] + +"Shouldn't wonder if it rained to-morrow, the wind has veered to the +south; it will be bad for the 'Sassiwn,' won't it?" said Cardo, after a +pause. + +"The what?" said the Vicar, looking full at his son. + +"The 'Sassiwn,' sir, as they call it; the Methodist Association, you +know, to be held here next week." + +"I don't want to hear anything about it; I take no interest in the +subject." + +"Won't you go then, father? There will be thousands of people there." + +"No, sir, I will not go; neither will you, I hope," answered the Vicar, +and pushing his plate away, he rose, and walked stiffly out at the door +and along the stone passage leading to his study. + +His son listened to his retreating footsteps. + +"As bigoted as ever, poor fellow!" he said; "but what a fool I was to +mention the subject." And he continued his supper in silence. When +Betto came in to clear away he had flung himself down on the hard +horse-hair sofa. The mould candle lighted up but a small space in the +large, cold room; there was no fire in the grate, no books or papers +lying about, to beguile the tedious hour before bedtime. Was it any +wonder that his thoughts should revert to the earlier hours of the +evening? that he should hear again in fancy the soft voice that said, +"I am Valmai Powell," and that he should picture to himself the +clustering curls that escaped from the red hood? + +The old house, with its long passages and large rooms, was full of +those nameless sounds which fill the air in the quiet of night. He +heard his father's footsteps as he paced up and down in his study, he +heard the tick-tack of the old clock on the stairs, the bureau creaked, +the candle spluttered, but there was no human voice to break the +silence, With a yawn he rose, stretching his long legs, and, throwing +back his broad shoulders, made his way along the dark passage which led +into the kitchen, where the farm servants were seated at supper. Betto +moved the beehive chair into a cosy corner beside the fire for the +young master, the men-servants all tugged their forelocks, and the +women rose to make a smiling bob-curtsey. + +"Have some cawl,[2] Ser!" said Betto, selecting a shining black bowl +and spoon. + +"Not to-night, after all that fried ham; but another night I want +nothing better for supper." + +"Well, there's nothing will beat cawl, that's certain," said Ebben, the +head servant, beginning with long-drawn noisy sups to empty his own +bowl. + +"Finished the turnips to-day?" asked Cardo. + +"Oh, yes," said Ebben, with a slight tone of reproof in his voice; "the +work goes on though you may not be at home, Ser. I consider there is +no piece of land on this earth, no, nor on any other earth, better +farmed than Brynderyn. Eh?" and he looked defiantly at Betto, between +whom and himself there was a continual war of words. + +"Well, I suppose so, indeed," said Betto; "_you_ say so often enough, +whatever, and what you say must be right." + +There was such an insidious mixture of flattery and sarcasm in her +words that, for a moment Ebben was at a loss what to answer, so Malen, +the milkmaid, took the opportunity of changing the subject. + +"There's tons of bread will be baked on Monday," she said, "ready for +the Sassiwn. Jini 'bakkare' has two sacks of flour to bake, and +there's seven other women in Abersethin will bake the same quantity." + +"At Morfa," said Shanw, "they have killed a cow and a sheep; and the +tongues, and fowls, and hams will fill every oven in the parish." + +Betto sniffed and tossed her head scornfully. "They may well give them +bread and meat," she said, "for I don't see what else they have to give +them." + +"What else, indeed," said Shanw, ready for the frequent fray. "They +won't have your hum-drum old church fregot[3], perhaps, but you come +and see, and hear Hughes Bangor, Price Merthyr, Jones Welshpool. +Nothing to give them, indeed! Why, Price Merthyr would send your old +red velvet cushion at church flying into smithireens in five minutes. +Haven't I heard him. He begins soft and low, like a cat purring on the +hearth, and then he gets louder and louder, till he ends like a roaring +lion. And our own preacher, Essec Powell, to begin and finish the +meeting. There's busy Valmai must be. Marged Hughes is there to help, +and she says--" + +"Oh, be quiet," said Betto, "and go along with your Valmai, and your +Price Merthyr, and your hams, and lions, and things. Ach y fi! I +don't want to hear about such things in a clergyman's house." + +"Valmai is a beauty, whatever," said Dye, the ploughboy. "I kiwked[4] +at her over the hedge this morning when she was going to Caer Madoc; +she's as pretty as an angel. Have you ever seen her, Ser?" + +"Valmai," said Cardo, prevaricating, "surely that is a new name in this +neighbourhood?" + +"Yes, she is Essec Powell's niece come home from over the sea. She is +an orphan, and they say the old man is keeping her reading and reading +to him all day till she is fair tired, poor thing." + +"Well, it is getting late," said Cardo, "good-night." And his rising +was the signal for them all to disperse, the men servants going to +their beds over the hay loft or stable; while the women, leaving their +wooden shoes at the bottom, followed each other with soft tread up the +creaking back stairs. + +In the study the Vicar poured over his books, as he translated from +English into Welsh the passages which interested him most. He was, +like many of the inhabitants of the South Wales coast, a descendant of +the Flemings, who had long ago settled there, and who have left such +strong and enduring marks of their presence. + +Their language has long given place to a sort of doggerel English, but +they have never learned to speak the language of the country except in +some of the straggling border villages. + +Pembrokeshire, in particular, retains a complete separateness, so to +speak, from the rest of the country, and is often called "Little +England beyond Wales." Thus it was that the English language seemed +always more natural to Meurig Wynne than the Welsh. His sermons were +always thought out in that language, and then translated into the +vernacular, and this, perhaps, accounted in some degree for their +stiffness and want of living interest. His descent from the Flemings +had the disadvantage of drawing a line of distinction between him and +his parishioners, and thus added to his unpopularity. In spite of +this, Cardo was an immense favourite, his frank and genial +manner--inherited from his mother, who was thoroughly Welsh--making its +way easily to the warm Welsh hearts. There was a deep well of +tenderness, almost of pity, within him for his cold stern father, a +longing to break through his reserve, a hankering after the loving ways +of home life, which he missed though he had never known them. The cold +Fleming had very little part in Cardo's nature, and, with his +enthusiastic Welsh sympathies, he was wont to regret and disclaim his +connection with these ancient ancestors. His father's pedigree, +however, made it very plain that the Gwynnes of Brynderyn were +descended from Gwayn, a Flemish wool merchant who had settled there in +the reign of Henry I.--these settlers being protected and encouraged by +the English king, who found their peaceable, industrious habits a great +contrast to the turbulence and restlessness of the Welsh under their +foreign yoke. Time has done but little to soften the difference +between the Welsh and Flemish characters; they have never really +amalgamated, and to this day the descendants of the Flemings remain a +separate people in language, disposition, and appearance. In +Pembrokeshire, Gower, and Radnorshire, we find them still flourishing, +and for some distance along the coast northwards from Pembrokeshire +there are still families, and even whole hamlets, descended from them, +exhibiting traits of character and peculiarities of manner easily +discernible to an observant eye. + +Before the Vicar retired to rest he took down from a shelf an old +Bible, from which he read a chapter, and, closing the book, knelt down +to pray. As he rose from his knees, the last words on his lips were, +"Caradoc, my beloved son!" + +For the next few days the turnips and mangolds seemed even more +interesting than usual to Cardo Wynne. He was up with the lark, and +striding from furrow to furrow in company with Dye and Ebben, returning +to a hurried breakfast, and out again on the breezy hillside before the +blue smoke had begun to curl up from the thatched chimneys which marked +the cluster of cottages called "Abersethin." + +Down there, under the cliffs, the little village slumbered, the rising +sun just beginning to touch its whitewashed walls with gold, while up +above, on the high lands, the "Vicare du's" fields were already bathed +in the morning sunlight. + +As he crossed from ridge to ridge and from furrow to furrow Cardo's +thoughts continually flew across the valley to the rugged hill on the +other side, and to the old grey house on the cliff--the home of Essec +Powell, the preacher. In vain he sought for any sign of the girl whose +acquaintance he had made so unexpectedly, and he was almost tempted to +believe that she was no other than a creature of his own imagination, +born of the witching moonlight hour, and absorbed again into the +passing shadows of night. But could he have seen through the walls of +that old grey house, even now at that early hour, he would have +understood what kept the preacher's niece so busily engaged that +neither on the shore nor on the banks of the Berwen was there a sign of +her. + +In the cool dairy at Dinas, and in and out of the rambling old kitchen, +she was busy with her preparations for the guests who would fill the +house during the Sassiwn. She bustled about, with Marged Hughes in +attendance, looking very different, but every bit as charming, in her +neat farm dress as she had on her visit to Caer Madoc. The sleeves of +her pink cotton jacket, pushed up above the elbows, showed her white, +dimpled arms; while her blue skirt or petticoat was short enough to +reveal the neatly-shod feet, with their bows of black ribbon on the +instep. + +Every house in the neighbourhood was busy with preparations of some +sort. At the farmhouses the women had been engaged for days with their +cooking. Huge joints of beef and ham, boiled or baked, stood ready in +the cool pantries; and in the smallest cottages, where there was more +than one bed, it had been prepared for some guest. "John, my cousin, +is coming from 'the Works,'" [5] or "Mary, my sister, will be home with +her baby." + +Everywhere hearts and hands were full of warm hospitality. Clergymen +of the Church of England, though generally looking askance at the +chapels and their swarming congregations, now, carried away by the +enthusiasm of the people, consented to attend the meetings, secretly +looking forward, with the Welsh love of oratory, to the eloquent +sermons generally to be heard on such occasions. + +Cardo, ruthlessly striding through the dew-bespangled gossamer of the +turnip field, heard with pleasure from Dye that the adjoining field, +which sloped down to the valley, had been fixed upon for the holding of +the Sassiwn. On the flat at the bottom the carpenters were already at +work at a large platform, upon which the preachers and most honoured +guests were to be seated; while the congregation would sit on the +hillside, which reached up to the Vicar's land. At least three +thousand, or even four, might be expected. + +All day Cardo looked over the valley with intense interest, and when +the day's work was over, unable to restrain his curiosity and +impatience any longer, he determined to take a closer survey of the old +house on the hill, which for so many years he had seen with his outward +eyes, though his inner perception had never taken account of it. At +last, crossing the beach, he took his way up the steep path that led to +Dinas. As he rounded a little clump of stunted pine trees he came in +sight of the house, grey, gaunt, and bare, not old enough to be +picturesque, but too old to look neat and comfortable, on that +wind-swept, storm-beaten cliff. Its grey walls, marked with patches of +damp and lichen, looked like a tear-stained face, out of which the two +upstairs windows stared like mournful eyes. Downstairs, in one room, +there was a little sign of comfort and adornment; crimson curtains hung +at the window, inside which a few flowers grew in pots. Keeping well +under the hedge of elders which surrounded the cwrt or front garden, +Cardo passed round to the side--the pine end, as it is called in +Wales--and here a little lattice window stood open. It faced the +south, and away from the sea a white rose tree had ventured to stretch +out its straggling branches. They had evidently lately been drawn by +some loving hand towards the little window. A muslin curtain fluttered +in the evening breeze, on which came the sound of a voice. Cardo knew +it at once. It was Valmai singing at her work, and he longed to break +through the elder bushes and call her attention. He was so near that +he could even hear the words of her song, softly as they were sung. +She was interrupted by a querulous voice. + +"Valmai," it said in Welsh, "have you written that?" + +"Oh! long ago, uncle. I am waiting for the next line." + +"Here it is then, child, and well worth waiting for;" and, with +outstretched arm marking the cadence of its rhythm, he read aloud from +a book of old poems. "There's poetry for you, girl! There's a +description of Nature! Where will you find such real poetry amongst +modern bards? No, no! the bards are dead, Valmai!" + +"Well, I don't know much about it, uncle; but isn't it a modern bard +who writes: + + "'Come and see the misty mountains + In their grey and purple sheen, + When they blush to see the sunrise + Like a maiden of thirteen!'" + +That seems very pretty, whatever." + +"Very pretty," growled the man's voice, "very pretty; of course it +is--very pretty! That's just it; but that's all, Valmai. Pwff! you +have put me out with your 'blushing maiden' and your 'purple sheen.' +Let us shut up Taliesin and come to 'Drych y Pryf Oesoedd.' Now, you +begin at the fifth chapter." + +There was a little sigh, which Cardo heard distinctly, and then the +sweet voice began and continued to read until the sun sank low in the +west. + +"It's getting too dark, uncle. Will I go and see if the cakes are +done?" + +"No, no!" said the old man, "Gwen will look after the cakes; you light +the candle, and come on with the book." + +How Cardo longed to spring in through the lattice window, to fling the +old books away, and to draw the reader out into the gold and purple +sunset--out over the breezy cliffs, and down to the golden sands; but +the strong bonds of circumstances held him back. + +The candle was lighted, and now he could see into the room. Old Essec +Powell sat beside the table with one leg thrown over the other, hands +clasped, and chin in the air, lost in the deep interest of the book +which his niece was reading. + +"He looks good for two hours longer," thought Cardo, as he saw the old +man's far-away look. + +There was a little tone of weariness in her voice as, seating herself +at the table by the open window, Valmai drew the candle nearer and +continued to read. + +Outside in the dusky twilight Cardo was gazing his fill at the face +which had haunted him ever since he had seen it on the road from Caer +Madoc. Yes, it was a beautiful face! even more lovely than he imagined +it to be in the dim evening light. He took note of the golden wavy +hair growing low on her broad, white forehead, her darker eyebrows that +reminded him of the two arches of a beautiful bridge, under which +gleamed two clear pools, reflecting the blue of the sky and the glint +of the sunshine, the straight, well-formed nose, the pensive, mobile +mouth, the complexion of a pale pink rose, and added to this the +indescribable charm of grace and manner which spread through her +personality. + +The evening shadows darkened, the sunset glow faded, and the moon rose +in a cloudless sky. The distant sound of the regular plash of the +waves on the beach reached Cardo's ears. He thought of the long +reaches of golden sand lying cool and grey in the moonlight, and all +the romantic dreams of youth awoke within him. + +Was it right that Valmai should be bending over a musty book in a +dimly-lit room? while outside were the velvet turf of the cliffs, the +plashing waves, and the silver moonlight. + +But the reading still went on, the gentle voice growing a little weary +and monotonous, and the white eyelids falling a little heavily over the +blue eyes. + +Long Cardo watched and gazed, and at last, turning away, he walked +moodily home. He knew his father would expect him to supper at ten +o'clock punctually, and hurried his steps as he approached the house. +Just in time, for Betto was placing on the table an appetising supper +of cawl and bread and butter, which the two men were soon discussing +silently, for the Vicar was more pre-occupied than usual, and Cardo, +too, was busy with his own thoughts. + +Suddenly the former spoke. + +"Is the long meadow finished?" he said. + +"Yes; Dye is a splendid fellow to work, and Ebben and he together get +through a good deal." + +"To-morrow they can clear out the barn. The next day is the market at +Llanilwyn; they must go there and buy a cow which Jones Pant y rych is +going to sell. I have told Ebben he is not to give more than 8 pounds +for her, and that is one pound more than she is worth." + +Cardo was silent. To clear out the barn next day was easy enough, but +to get Dye and Ebben to the market on the following day would be +impossible. It was the opening of the Sassiwn, and he knew that +neither of the men would be absent on that occasion, even though +disobedience should cost them their place. They were both Methodists, +and it had gone hard with the Vicar before he had taken them into his +service; but the exigencies of farm life had compelled him to do so, as +there was absolutely not one young man amongst his own congregation. + +To do him justice, he had forgotten for the moment that the market day +at Llanilwyn would also be the Sassiwn day. + +"Do you remember, father, the Sassiwn begins the day after to-morrow?" + +"I had forgotten it, but I don't see what difference that can make to +my buying a cow." + +"But Ebben and Dye will want to be at the meetings." + +A shadow crossed the old man's face. He made no answer, but continued +to eat his supper in silence, and at last rose, and with a short +"Good-night, Cardo," went into his study. He knew as well as his son +did that it would be useless to try and persuade his servants to be +absent from the meetings, and the knowledge galled him bitterly, too +bitterly for words, so he was silent; and Cardo, knowing his humour, +said nothing to Dye and Ebben of his father's wishes. + +"Poor old dad!" he sighed, as he finished his supper, "it is hard for +him to see his congregation dwindled away to a mere handful, while the +chapels around him arc crowded to overflowing. By Jove! there must be +something wrong somewhere." + +As usual after supper he followed Betto into the old kitchen, where the +servants were assembled for supper, and where Shanw was again holding +forth, to her own delight and Betto's disgust, on the coming glories of +the Sassiwn. + +"To-morrow evening will be the first meeting." + +"Will it be in the field?" asked Cardo. + +"Oh, no, Ser; the first is in the chapel always, and no strangers are +there. Essec Powell will have to shut up his old books for a few days +now, and poor Valmai will have rest. Marged Hughes says she is reading +to him for hours every day, but once she can get out of his sight he +forgets all about her, and goes on reading himself." + +"When does he prepare his sermons?" said Cardo. + +"Prepare his sermons!" said Shanw indignantly. "Do you think Essec +Powell would write his sermon out like a clergyman and read it out like +a book? No, indeed! Straight from the 'brist'--that's how Essec +Powell preaches!" + +"What time is the first meeting next day?" + +"Oh, early, Ser--eight o'clock. Are you coming? Anwl! there's glad +they'd be. You shall go on the platform with Price Merthyr and Jones +Abertawe and all the rest." + +"Saul among the prophets," said Cardo, laughing, and picturing himself +among the solemn-faced preachers. "No, no; that wouldn't do, Shanw. +What would my father say?" + +"Well, well!" said Shanw, clicking her tongue against her teeth; "'ts, +'ts! 'tis pity indeed. But, there, everybody knows it is not your +fault, Ser." + +Cardo frowned, and fell into a brown study. It wounded him to hear his +father blamed, and yet in his heart of hearts he wished he would so far +temper his zeal with Christian charity as to attend the meetings which +were moving the hearts of the people so much. + + +[1] "The old know, the young appear to know." + +[2] Leek broth. + +[3] Rodomontade. + +[4] Peeped. + +[5] Glamorganshire. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE SASSIWN. + +The Sassiwn day dawned bright and clear, and as the time for the first +service drew near, the roads and lanes were thronged with pedestrians +and vehicles of every description. + +The doors of the houses in all the surrounding villages were closed for +the day, except in a few cases where illness made it impossible for the +inmates to leave their beds. Everybody--man, woman, and child, +including babies innumerable--turned their faces towards the sloping +field which for the day was the centre of attraction. + +Already the grass was getting hidden by the black throng, and still the +crowds arrived, seating themselves row behind row on the wild thyme and +heather. The topmost corner of the field merged into a rocky +wilderness of stunted heath and patches of burnt grass, studded with +harebells, and this unapportioned piece of ground stretched away into +the adjoining corner of the Vicar's long meadow. In the afternoon +Cardo, who had virtuously kept away from the morning meetings, +sauntered down to chat with Dye, who had condescended to absent himself +from the third service, in order to attend to his duties on the farm. + +"You sit here, Mr. Cardo," he said, with a confidential wink, "on your +own hedge; the Vicar can't be angry, and you will hear something worth +listening to." + +Soon the sloping bank was crowded with its rows of human beings, all +listening with intense interest to a pale, dark man, who stood on the +front of the platform at the bottom of the field, and with sonorous +voice delivered a short opening prayer, followed by an impassioned +address. In the clear, pure air every word was distinctly heard all +over the field, the surging multitude keeping a breathless silence, +broken only by the singing of the birds or the call of the seagulls. +Sometimes a baby would send up a little wail of fatigue; but generally +the slumberous air soothed and quieted them into sleep. + +The prayer over, the preacher gave out the words of a well-known hymn, +and with one accord the people stood up, and from those hundreds and +thousands arose the swelling tones of one of those old hymns which lay +hold of every Welshman's heart, its strange reminiscences, its +mysterious influences swaying his whole being, and carrying him away on +the wings of its rising and falling melody. His fathers and +grandfathers sang it in their old thatched cabins--and, farther back, +the warriors and bards of his past ancestry breathed the same +tones--and, farther back still, the wind swept its first suggestions +through the old oaks of the early solitudes. + +"Is it this, I wonder, this far-reaching into the past, which gives +such moving power to the tones of an old Welsh hymn?" Thus Cardo +mused, as he sat on the hedge in the spring sunshine, his eyes roaming +over the dense throng now settling down to listen to the sermon, which +the preacher was beginning in low, slow sentences. Every ear was +strained to listen, every eye was fixed on the preacher, but Cardo +could not help wondering where Valmai was. He saw Essec Powell with +clasped fingers and upturned chin listening in rapt attention; he saw +in the rows nearest the platform many of the wives and daughters of its +occupants. Here surely would be the place for the minister's niece; +but no! Valmai was nowhere to be seen. In truth, she had been +completely forgotten by her uncle, who had wandered off with a knot of +preachers after the hospitable dinner, provided for them at his house +by Valmai's exertions and Marged Hughes' help; but he had never thought +of introducing to his guests the real genius of the feast. She had +snatched a hurried meal in the pantry, and, feeling rather lost and +bewildered amongst the crowd of strangers, had retired to rest under +the elder bushes, until called upon by Marged Hughes to help at the +table, which she did at once, overcoming her shyness, and keeping as +much as possible in the background. + +The guests had been at first too intent upon their dinners after their +morning's exertions to notice the slim white figure which slipped +backwards and forwards behind them, supplying every want with quick and +delicate intuition, aiding Marged Hughes' clumsy attempts at waiting, +so deftly, that Essec Powell's dinner was a complete success. + +Towards the end of the meal a young and susceptible preacher caught +sight of the girl, and without ceremony opened a conversation with her. +Turning to his host he asked: + +"And who is this fair damsel?" + +"Who? where?" said Essec Powell, looking surprised. "Oh! that's my +niece Valmai; she is living with me since Robert my brother is dead." + +"Well, indeed! You will be coming to the meetings, I suppose?" + +"Yes," said Valmai, "I have been there all day; the singing was lovely!" + +"And what did you think of the preaching?" said a very fat man, in a +startlingly bass voice. He was carving a fowl. "That is the important +point," he said, and the wing came off unexpectedly. "Young people are +apt to think most of the singing," here he re-captured the wing and +landed it safely on his own plate. "Did you hear my sermon?" he asked, +between the mouthfuls of the fast disappearing wing, fixing his eyes +upon poor Valmai, who began to wish herself under the elder bushes +again. "My text was--" but fortunately here the company rose. + +After a long grace they dispersed, and turned their faces once more +towards the sloping field. + +No one noticed Valmai--no one remembered her in the hurry to return to +the preaching field--no one, she thought, would know or care whether +she was present or not; and as she drew on her gloves and tied on her +broad-brimmed straw hat, there was a little sadness in the curves of +her mouth, a little moisture in the deep blue eyes, as alone she took +her way after the preachers to the hillside. As she went she recalled +the last open-air meeting she had attended, nearly two years ago, in +that far-off land, where her father and mother had walked with her in +loving companionship, when she had been the centre of their joys and +the light of their home, and as she followed the winding path, +hymn-book in hand, her heart went back in longing throbs to the father +and mother and the old home under the foreign sky, where love had +folded her in its warm embrace; but now--she was alone! no one noticed +whether she came or went, and as groups and families passed her, +wending their way to the hillside, she answered their nods and +greetings with pleasant kindliness, but still found herself alone! + +"It will always be like this now; I must learn to go alone. What can I +expect when my father and mother are dead? there is no one else to care +for me!" + +She reached the crowded field, and ought to have made her way into the +front rows near the platform where she might easily have found a seat, +but Valmai was shy and retiring, and seeing there was no settled place +for her, kept on the outskirts of the crowd, and at last found herself +on the piece of uncultivated ground which bordered the corner of the +Vicar's long meadow. She seated herself on the heather at the top of +the bank, the sea wind blowing round her, and tossing and tumbling the +golden curls which fell so luxuriantly under her hat. + +All feeling of loneliness passed away as she sat there among the +harebells and heather, for Valmai was young, and life was all before +her, with its sweet hopes and imaginings. She was soon listening with +deep interest to the eloquent and burning words which fell from the +lips of the preacher; and with the harebells nodding at her, the golden +coltsfoot staring up into the sky, the laughing babies sprawling about, +was it any wonder that sadness fled away, and joy and love sang a paean +of thankfulness in her heart? + +It was at this moment that Cardo caught sight of her. Unconsciously, +he had been seeking her in every square yard which his eye could reach, +and here she was close to him all the time. The discovery awoke a +throb of pleasure within him, and with a flush upon his dark face he +rose and made his way towards her. She was absently turning over the +leaves of her little Welsh hymn-book as he approached, and smiling +unconsciously at a toddling child who was making journeys of discovery +around the furze bushes. A quick, short "Oh!" escaped her as she saw +him approach, her face brightened up--yes, certainly she was glad. +Cardo saw it in the mantling blush and the pleased smile as he found a +seat on the grass beside her. She placed her hand in his with a +whispered word of greeting, for it would not do to speak aloud in that +quiet concourse of people. + +"Where have you been?" he asked, at last. + +"At home," she whispered. "Why?" + +"Because I hoped you would be out--" + +Valmai shook her head as a farmer's wife looked round at her +reprovingly. Cardo attempted another remark, but she only smiled with +her finger on her lips. + +"This is unendurable," he thought; but he was obliged to be satisfied +with the pleasure of sitting beside her until the long sermon was over, +and the crowd rose _en masse_ with ejaculations of delight at the +moving eloquence of the preacher. + +"As good as ever he was!" "Splendid!" "Did you hear that remark about +the wrong key?" "Oh! telling!" And amongst the murmer of approval and +enthusiasm Valmai and Cardo rose. For a moment the former looked +undecided, and he read her thoughts. + +"No--not home with the crowd, but down over the beach;" and she fell in +with the suggestion, turning her face to the sea breeze and taking the +path to the shore. + +Here the Berwen was running with its usual babbling and gurgling +through the stones into the sea, the north-west wind was tossing the +foam into the air, and the waves came bounding and racing up the yellow +sand like children at play; the little sea-crows cawed noisily as they +wheeled round the cliffs, and the sea-gulls called to their fellows as +they floated over the waves or stood about the wet, shining sands. + +"There's beautiful, it is," said Valmai, pushing back her hat and +taking long breaths of the sea wind; "only six weeks I have been here +and yet I seem to have known it for ever--I suppose because from a baby +I used to hear my father talking of this place. It was his old home, +and he was always longing to come back." + +"Yes," said Cardo, "I can imagine that. I don't think I could ever be +thoroughly happy away from here." + +"Nor I too, indeed," said Valmai, "now that I know it." + +"I hope you will never leave the place--you seem to belong to it +somehow; and I hope I may never leave it, at least--at all events--" +and he hesitated as he remembered his father's wishes--expressed many +times, though at long intervals--that he should go to Australia and +visit an uncle who had for many years lived there. The prospect of a +voyage to the Antipodes had never been very attractive to Cardo, and +latterly the idea had faded from his mind. In the glamour of that +golden afternoon in spring, in Valmai's sweet companionship, the +thought of parting and leaving his native country was doubly unpleasant +to him. She saw the sudden embarrassment, and the flush that spread +over his face. + +"You are going away?" she said, looking up at him. + +There was only inquiry in the tone. Cardo wondered if she would be +sorry, and was tempted to make the most of his possible departure. + +"I may have to go away," he said, "though I should hate it. I never +liked the idea, but now I perfectly dread it. And you," he added, +"should you miss me? It is not very lively here, so perhaps even I +might be missed a little." + +Valmai did not answer; she looked out to the horizon where the blue of +the sky joined the blue of the sea, and the white breakers glinted in +the sunshine. + +"Yes," she said presently, "I will be sorry when you go, and where are +you going to? Far away? To England, perhaps?" + +"To Australia," replied Cardo. + +"Australia! Oh! then you will never come back to Traeth Berwen!" + +"Indeed, indeed I will, Miss Powell--you laugh at that--well--may I say +Valmai, then?" + +"Yes; why not? Everyone is calling me Valmai, even Shoni our servant." + +"I may venture, then; and will you call me Cardo?" + +"Yes, indeed; Cardo Wynne. Cardo Wynne, everybody is calling you that, +too--even the little children in the village; I have heard them say, +'Here is Cardo Wynne coming!' See, here is the path to Dinas, I must +say good-bye." + +"Can't we have another walk along the beach? Remember, I, too, have no +one to talk to!" + +"Oh, anwl, no! I must hurry home and get the tea for the preachers." + +"And then back to the meeting on the hillside?" + +"No; the meeting is in the chapel to-night." + +"But when it is over you will come back along the shore?" + +"Indeed, I don't know. Good-bye," she said, as she began her way up +the rugged homeward path. + +When Cardo reached home, he found his father sitting at the tea-table. +The old parlour looked gloomy and dark, the bright afternoon sun, +shining through the creepers which obscured the window, threw a green +light over the table and the rigid, pale face of the Vicar. + +"You are late Cardo; where have you been?" + +"In the long meadow, sir, where I could hear some of the preaching +going on below, and afterwards on the beach; it is a glorious +afternoon. Oh! father, I wish you would come out and breathe the fresh +air; it cannot be good for you to be always in your study poring over +those musty old books." + +"My books are not musty, and I like to spend my time according to my +own ideas of what is fit and proper, and I should not think it either +to be craning my neck over a hedge to listen to a parcel of Methodist +preachers--" + +"Well, I only heard one, Price Merthyr I think they call him. He was--" + +"Cardo!" said his father severely, "when I want any information on the +subject I will ask for it; I want you to set Dye and Ebben on to the +draining of that field to-morrow--" + +"Parc y waun?" + +"Yes; Parc y waun." + +"Right, father," said Cardo good-naturedly. He was devotedly attached +to his father, and credited him with a depth of affection and +tenderness lying hidden behind his stern manner--a sentiment which must +have been revealed to him by intuition, for he had never seen any +outward sign of it. "It's no use," he muttered, as his father rose and +left the room; "it's no use trying to broach the subject to him, poor +fellow! I must be more careful, and keep my thoughts to myself." + +Later on in the evening, Valmai sat in the hot, crowded chapel, her +elbows pressed tightly in to her sides by the two fat women between +whom she sat, their broad-brimmed hats much impeding her view of the +preacher, who was pounding the red velvet cushion in the old pulpit, +between two dim mould candles which shed a faint light over his face. +Valmai listened with folded hands as he spoke of the narrow way so +difficult to tread, so wearisome to follow--of the few who walked in it +and the people, listening with upturned faces and bated breath, +answered to his appeal with sighs and groans and "amens." He then +passed on to a still more vivid description of the broad road, so +smooth, so easy, so charming to every sense, so thronged with people +all gaily dancing onwards to destruction, the sudden end of the road, +where it launched its thronging crowds over a precipice into the +foaming, seething sea of everlasting woe and misery. + +Valmai looked round her with awe and horror. + +"Did these innocent-looking, simple people belong to that thronging +crowd who were hurrying on to their own destruction? was she herself +one of them? Cardo?--her uncle?" + +The thought was dreadful, her breath came and went quickly, her eyes +were full of tears, and she felt as if she must rise suddenly and rush +into the open air, but as she looked round the chapel she caught sight +through one of the windows of the dark blue sky of night, bespangled +with stars, and a glow of purer and healthier feeling came over her. +She would not believe it--outside was the fresh night wind, outside was +the silver moonlight, and in the words of the poet of whom she had +never heard she said within herself, "No! God is in Heaven, it's all +right with the world!" Her joyous nature could not brook the saddening +influences of the Methodist creed, and as she passed out into the clear +night air amongst the crowd of listeners, and heard their mournful +sighs and their evident appreciation of the sermon, or rather sermons, +for there had been two, her heart bounded with a sense of relief; joy +and happiness were its natural elements, and she returned to them as an +innocent child rushes to its mother's arms. + +Leaving the thronged road, she took the rugged path down the hillside, +alone under the stars, and remembering Cardo's question, "Will you come +home by the shore?" she wondered whether he was anywhere near! As she +reached the bottom of the cliff and trod on the firm, hard sand below, +she saw him standing in the shadow of a rock, and gazing out at the sea +over which the moon made a pathway of silver. + +The fishing boats from Ynysoer were out like moths upon the water. +They glided from the darkness across that path of light and away again +into the unknown. On one a light was burning. + +"That is the _Butterfly_," thought Valmai, "I am beginning to know them +all; and there is Cardo Wynne!" and with a spirit of mischief gleaming +in her eyes and dimpling her face, she approached him quietly, her +light footstep making no sound on the sand. + +She was close behind him and he had not turned round, but still stood +with folded arms looking out over the moonlit scene. Having reached +this point, Valmai's fun suddenly deserted her. What should she do +next? should she touch him? No! Should she speak to him? Yes; but +what should she say? Cardo! No! and a faint blush overspread her +face. A mysterious newborn shyness came over her, and it was quite a +nervous, trembling voice that at last said: + +"Mr. Wynne?" + +Cardo turned round quickly. + +"Valmai! Miss Powell!" he said, "how silently you came upon me! I was +dreaming. Come and stand here. Is not that scene one to make a poet +of the most prosaic man?" + +"Yes, indeed," answered the girl, standing beside him with a strangely +beating heart, "it is beautiful! I saw the sky through the chapel +window, and I was thinking it would be very nice down here. There's +bright and clear the moon is!" + +They were walking now across the beach, at the edge of the surf. + +"It reminds me of something I read out to uncle last night. It was out +of one of his old Welsh poets--Taliesin, or Davydd ap Gwilym, or +somebody. It was about the moon, but indeed I don't know if I can put +it into English." + +"Try," said Cardo. + + "'She comes from out the fold + And leads her starry flock among the fields of night.'" + + +"Yes, that is beautiful," said Cardo. "Indeed, I am glad you find +something interesting in those dog-eared old books." + +"Dog-eared? But they are indeed," she said, laughing. "But how do you +know? They may be gold and leather, and spic and span from the +bookseller's, for all you know." + +"No, I have seen them, and have seen you reading them." + +"Seen me reading them? How? Where?" + +"Last night I was under the elder bushes, and saw you reading to your +uncle. I watched you for a long time." + +Valmai was silent. + +"You are not vexed with me for that?" + +She was still silent; a tumult of happy thoughts filled her mind. He +had found his way to Dinas! He had thought it worth while to stand +under the night sky and watch her! It was a pleasant idea, and, +thinking of it, she did not speak. + +"Tell me, Valmai, have I offended you?" + +"Offended me? Oh, no; why should you? But indeed it was very foolish +of you, whatever. If you had come in and listened to the reading it +would be better, perhaps," she said laughingly. + +"If I had come in, what would your uncle have said? He would have been +very angry." + +"Well, indeed, yes; I was forgetting that. He is very hospitable, and +glad to see anybody who comes in to supper; but I don't think," she +added, with a more serious air, "that he would be glad to see you. He +hates the Church and everything belonging to it." + +"Yes. How wearisome all this bigotry is. My father hates the chapels +and all belonging to them." + +"Perhaps you and I will begin to hate each other soon," said Valmai, as +they reached the boulders through which the Berwen trickled. + +It was absolutely necessary that Cardo should help her over the +slippery stones, and with her hand in his she stepped carefully over +the broad stream, subsiding into quietness as it reached the sea. At +last she was safely over, and as he reluctantly dropped her hand he +returned to the subject of conversation. + +"Will we hate each other?" + +Again there was no answer, and again Cardo looked down at Valmai as he +pressed his question. + +She had taken off her hat, and was walking with her golden head exposed +to the cool night breezes. It drooped a little as she answered his +persistent questioning. + +"No, I think," she said, with her quaint Welsh accent. + +"No, I think, too," said Cardo; "why should we? Let us leave the +hatred and malice and all uncharitableness to our elders; for you and +me, down here on the sands and by the banks of the Berwen, there need +be nothing but content and--and friendship." + +"Yes, indeed, it is nice to have friends. I left all mine behind me in +my old home, and I did not think I should ever have another; but here +we are across the shore, and here is the path to Dinas." + +"Oh, but the walk has been too short. You must come back and let us +have it over again." + +"What! back again?" said Valmai, laughing so merrily that she woke the +echoes from the cliffs. + +"Yes, back across those slippery stones and across the shore, and then +back again to this side. I can help you, you know." + +Cardo's voice was very low and tender. It seemed ridiculous, but +somehow he gained his point. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE STORM. + +A day or two later on, the weather changed, the wind blew up in angry +soughs from the south-west, and, meeting the strong flow of the spring +tide, curled the green wave-tops into those small feathers of foam, +always the fore-runners of rough weather. The sea-gulls let themselves +go before the wind calling to each other excitedly, the little +sea-crows stayed quietly at home in the safe crannies of the cliff. +Old Dan Griffiths the fisherman hauled his boat further up the strand, +and everything betokened the brewing of a storm, nevertheless Valmai +was out early. Her small household duties had been attended to. She +had skimmed the cream in the dairy, and fed the new calf; she had +scattered the grain before the flocks of fowls and pigeons in the +farm-yard; had brushed her uncle's coat, and, while helping him to +shuffle into it, had asked him: + +"Are you going from home to-day, uncle?" + +"Yes, merch i, didn't I tell you? I am going to a meeting at Pen +Morien, and won't be back to-night." + +"Are you going to walk?" + +"Why, no! ride, of course. Where's Malen?" + +"I think Shoni was just putting her into the cart." + +"Oh! I forgot to tell him," said the absent-minded man. "Tell him to +saddle her, and bring her here at once." + +Valmai ran out, and picking her way daintily through the stubble of the +farm-yard, caught sight of Shoni fastening the last buckle of Malen's +cart harness. + +"Wants her saddled?" he said, looking hot and flustered. "Dear, dear! +there never was such a man! Wasn't I settle with him yesterday to take +the two pigs to the fair to be sell? There's what it is to live in the +clouds!" and, grumbling, he unfastened the buckles, and soon led Malen +saddled and bridled to the door. + +"Didn't you tell me we was to sell the pigs to-day?" he said sulkily, +as soon as his master was seated safely on the saddle. + +Essec Powell, who had for some time been hopping about on one leg, +finding it difficult to mount the spirited Malen, now looked +thoughtfully at Shoni. + +"Pigs," he said, "pigs? Oh, of course; yes, Shoni, quite right, you +shall take them to market tomorrow." + +"To-day is the fair; you had forgotten that, I suppose." + +"Well, well! next week will do," and he trotted away, Shoni looking +after him with undisguised contempt. + +"There's a man, now," he said in English, for he was proud of his +proficiency in that language. "Wass you ever see such a man? I tell +you, Valmai, he would be ruined and put in gaol for debt long ago if I +wasn't keep him out of it." + +"Yes, I think--indeed, Shoni, I am sure of it; but where is the fair +to-day?" + +"At Llanython, of course; wasn't you hear of it? Why! you ought to be +there, pranked out in your ribbons and finery, talking and laughing +with the young men, and coming home in the evening with your +pocket-handkerchief full of gingerbread and nuts," and he looked her +over from top to toe. + +It had never struck him before that there was any charm in her +appearance, but now he seemed to realise that she was worthy to be seen +at the fair. + +"Yes," he said pensively, with his thumbs in the armholes of his +waistcoat; "I wouldn't wonder a bit now if you wass to pick up a +sweet'arr amongst the gentry, because you are beginning to speak +English as good as the Vicare, and you are not quite like the girls +about here, Valmai." + +"Am I not?" she said laughingly. + +"No," he said seriously; "and that's where you will be failing. +There's not a chap about here will take a miladi like you for a wife. +You must learn to kom over the farm-yard without picking up your +skirts, and looking at your shoes to see if they are dirty, if you want +to marry a farmer." + +"Indeed, I don't wish to marry a farmer," said Valmai, "nor anyone else +who doesn't want me." + +Shoni again shook his head solemnly. "Yes, yes," he said, "I see how +it is; s'not only the pigs, and the calves, and hens, but you too I +must take to markets and fairs, or we shall never marry you," and he +turned away pondering seriously over his self-imposed duties. + +Valmai looked after him a little wistfully. Where should she go now? +How should she spend the long day? Gwen would see to the housework, +and would brook no interference with her management. Nobody wanted +her, and nobody thought of her, except Shoni, and to him she seemed +rather a burden; or was there one who thought of her sometimes?--who +cared a little for her? With heightened colour and quick step she +turned from the farm-yard down the steep path which led to the river's +banks, and as she made her way through the thick hazel and willow +brushwood she could not quite suppress the hope that she might meet +Cardo. But no, perfect solitude reigned over the Berwen. + +Down in the valley she could not feel the wind, but she heard its roar +in the tree tops; the birds were silent, the sky was grey, and a little +sadness fell over her spirits as she continued to thread her way under +the tall bracken and brambles, onwards and upwards, until she at length +reached the stile by the bridge upon which she and Cardo had eaten +their gingerbread on the first evening of their acquaintance. The road +which had that night been so quiet and deserted was now full of busy +life, and as Valmai approached the stile and saw the many pedestrians +and vehicles she shrank back a little, and, through the branches of a +hazel bush, looked out on the passers-by, realising that all these +hurrying footsteps, and faces full of interest, were turned towards the +Fair at Llanython. + +Presently she heard the rumbling of wheels, and in a cloud of dust saw +the Vicar of the next parish drive by with his two pretty daughters. +Just as they reached the bridge they were overtaken by a young man, who +reined in his spirited, well-groomed horse and addressed the party. At +once Valmai recognised the voice, and peeping through the greenery, saw +it was Cardo, stalwart and strong, with his rough freize coat and +buttoned gaiters, looking every inch a gentleman-farmer. + +There was a bluff and hearty greeting from the clergyman as Cardo took +off his hat to the two young ladies, who simpered and blushed +becomingly, for Cardo Wynne was the catch of the neighbourhood; his +good looks, his father's reputed wealth, and the slight air of mystery +hanging over the silent "Vicare du" making quite a halo of romance +around his son's personality. + +"Good-bye," said Mr. Hughes; "we shall see you at the fair, I suppose?" + +"Yes," said Cardo, "good-bye," and he reined in his horse for a moment +so as to avoid riding in the cloud of dust raised by the Vicar's +carriage wheels. + +Valmai's heart thumped loudly, for Cardo was looking at the stile, he +was dismounting, and now he was leaning on the bridge lost in thought, +and looking down into the green depths of the valley. There was a +pleased look on his face and a gleam in his black eyes, which Valmai +saw, and which made her heart beat faster and her cheek flush a more +rosy red, but she shrank further back into the shade of the hazel bush, +and only peeped out again when she heard by the horse's hoofs that his +rider was remounting; then she ventured over the stile and looked at +the retreating figure, with his broad shoulders, his firm seat, and his +steady hand on his bridle as he galloped out of sight. A flood of +happiness filled her heart as she re-crossed the stile and began her +way again down the shady path. + +What mattered it that at every moment the wind rose higher, and the +branches creaked and groaned above her? What mattered it that the +birds were silent, and that the roar of the sea reached further than +usual into the nut wood? She would go home and eat her frugal dinner +of brown bread and bwdran,[1] and then she would set off to Ynysoer to +spend a few hours with Nance Owen, who had nursed her as a baby before +her parents had left Wales. In spite of the increasing storm she +reached the beach, and turned her face towards Ynysoer, a small island +or rather a promontory, which stretched out from the shore. At low +tide a reef of rocks, generally known as the Rock Bridge, connected it +with the mainland, but at high tide the reef was completely under +water, the sea rushing in foaming breakers over it as if chafing at the +restraint to its wild freedom. + +Had Valmai been better acquainted with the coast, she would not have +dared to cross the bridge in the face of the storm which was every +moment increasing in violence. The tide was down, and the rocks were +bare, and the high wind helped to hurry her over the pools and craggy +points. Gathering her red cloak tightly around her she made her way +safely over to the island, which was a frequent resort of hers, as here +she found the warm love and welcome for which her heart craved, and +which was so sorely missing in her uncle's house. + +Amongst the sandy dunes and tussocks were scattered a few lonely +cottages, in one of which Nance lived her uneventful life; its +smoke-browned thatch looked little different from the rushes and coarse +grass which surrounded it, for tufts of grass and moss grew on the roof +also, and Nance's goat was frequently to be seen browsing on the +house-top. At the open door stood Nance herself, looking out at the +storm. Suddenly she caught sight of Valmai, who was making a difficult +progress through the soft uneven sand, and a look of surprise and +pleasure came over her face. + +"Oh, dear heart, is it you, indeed, come to see old Nance, and on such +a day? Come in, sweetheart, out of the storm." + +"The storm indeed," said Valmai, in Welsh as pure as Nance's own, as +the old woman drew her in to the cottage and closed the door. "Why, +you know nothing about it on this side of the island, nothing of what +it is in the village. The boats have all been drawn up close to the +road, and the waves are dancing and prancing on the beach, I can tell +you." + +Nance loosened her cloak and hat, and smoothed her hair with her horny +hands. + +"There's glad I am to see you, merch fach-i, and if you have no grand +friends to keep you company and no one to look after you, you have +always got old Nance to love you." + +"Yes, I know that, Nance, indeed. What do you think of my new frock?" +said the girl, holding out her skirt to the admiring gaze of the old +woman, who went into raptures of admiration. + +"Oh, there's pretty. 'Tis fine and soft, but white, always white you +are wearing--" + +"Yes, I like white," said Valmai. + +"And didn't I dress you in your first little clothes? Well I remember +it." + +"There's just what I wanted to ask you about, Nance; I love to hear the +old story." + +"After tea, then, merch i, for now I must go and fetch water from the +well, and I must milk the goat." + +"I will fetch the water," said Valmai; "you can go and milk." + +And taking the red stone pitcher from the bench by the wall she went +out, and, sheltered by the ridge of rocks behind which the cottage +stood, made her way to the spring which dripped from a crack in the +cliffs. While she waited for the pitcher to fill, she sang, in sheer +lightness of heart, the old ballad which not only floated on the air of +Abersethin and its neighbourhood, but which she had heard her mother +sing in the far-off land of her childhood. + + "By Berwen's banks my love has strayed + For many a day through sun and shade," + +and she paused to peep into the pitcher, but finding it only half full, +continued: + + "And as she carolled loud and clear + The little birds flew down to hear." + + "By Berwen's banks the storm rose high," + +but the pitcher was full, so, resting it on her side, she carried it +home, before Nance had caught her goat. When she returned with her +bowl of rich milk, Valmai was busy, with skirt and sleeves tucked up, +tidying and arranging the little room; the hearth had been swept and +the tea-things laid on the quaint little round table, whose black +shining surface and curved legs would have delighted the heart of a +collector of antique furniture. + +"Oh, calon fâch![2] to think your little white hands have been working +for me! Now I will cut the bread and butter thin, thin--as befits a +lady like you; and sorry I am that it is barley bread. I don't forget +the beautiful white cakes and the white sugar you gave me at Dinas the +other day! And your uncle, how is he?" + +"Quite well; gone to Pen Morien, and not coming home till to-morrow; +but tell me now, Nance fâch, of all that happened so long ago--when I +was born." + +"Not so long ago for me, dear heart, as for you. It is a whole +life-time for you, but for me--" and the faded blue eyes filled with +tears, and the wrinkled lips trembled a little as she recalled the +past--"for me! I had lived my life before you were born. My husband +was dead, my boy drowned, and my little Mari, the last and brightest, +had suddenly withered and died before my eyes--a fever they say, +perhaps it was indeed; but the sun has never shone so brightly, +whatever, since then; the flowers are not so sweet--they remind me of +my child's grave; the sea does not look the same--it reminds me of my +boy!" and she rocked herself backwards and forwards for some time, +while Valmai stroked with tender white fingers the hard, wrinkled hand +which rested on her lap. "Well, indeed," said the old woman at last, +"there's enough of my sorrows; let us get on to the happy time when +your little life began, you and your twin sister. When you were washed +and dressed and laid sleeping together in the same cradle, no one could +tell which was which; but dir anwl! who cared for that? too much joy +was in our hearts that your dear mother was safe. No one at least, +except the grand English lady who was lodging there at your +grandfather's house. Her husband was dead, and she was very rich, but +she had no children; and when she heard your mother had twins, she +begged of us to let her have one for her very own, and she was like +thorns to us because we could not tell for sure which was the oldest." + +"Well, go on, Nance," said Valmai, as the old woman stopped to rake the +peat embers together. + +"Well! then, we all thought it was a very good thing, and no doubt the +Almighty had His plans about it, for how could your poor mother take +two babies with her to that far-off land where your father went a +missionary? Well! there was a message come to fetch the lady to the +death-bed of her mother, and she only waited at Dinas long enough to +see you both christened together, Valmai and Gwladys. The next day she +went away, and took your little sister with her. Oh! there's crying +your mother was at losing one of her little ones; but your father +persuaded her it was for the best." + +"And what was the English lady's name?" asked Valmai. + +"Oh! my dear, ask it not; the hardest word you ever heard, and the +longest; I could never twist my tongue round it. It is with me +somewhere written out on paper, and her directions, and if she ever +moved to another place she would write and tell us, she said; but that +was not likely to be, because she went to her father's and +grandfather's old home, and she has never written to anyone since, as +far as I know." + +"Well, indeed," said Valmai, looking thoughtfully into the glowing +embers, "I should like to see my sister, whatever." + +"Twt, twt," said the old woman, "there's no need for you to trouble +your head about her; she has never troubled to seek you." + +"Does she know about me, do you think?" + +"That I can't tell, of course," said Nance, going to the door to have +another look at the storm. "Ach y fi! it's like a boiling pot," she +said; "you can never go home to-night, my child." + +"Oh, yes, indeed I must; I would not be away from home in my uncle's +absence for the world," said Valmai, joining the old woman at the door, +and looking out rather anxiously at the angry sea. "Oh, when the tide +goes down at nine o'clock the moon will be up, and perhaps the storm +will be over." + +They sat chatting over the fire until the evening shadows fell, and the +moon shone fitfully between the scudding clouds. + +Meanwhile Cardo had ridden in to Llanython. A fair had generally much +attraction for him--the merry laughter, the sociable meetings, the +sound of music on the air, and the altogether festive character of the +day; but on this occasion its pleasures seemed to pall, and quickly +dispatching the business which had brought him there, he returned to +the inn, and, mounting his horse, rode home early in the afternoon. +Why he thus hurried away he never could explain. Ever since he had +leant on the bridge over the Berwen in the morning he had been haunted +by a feeling of Valmai's presence. Little had he guessed that she had +been so near him while he looked down through the interlacing scenery +which hid the river from his sight. It was nearly four o'clock in the +afternoon as he reached that part of the high road from which the beach +was visible, and here he stopped a moment to look and wonder at the +storm, which had so suddenly increased in violence. + +"How far up the beach at Ynysoer those breakers run! And the Rock +Bridge!--I wouldn't like to cross that to-night; but surely that was a +woman's figure crossing it now!" A sudden fear darted through his +mind, and dismounting, he climbed to the top of the turfy bank at the +side of the road to gain a better view of the coast. "Yes, a woman--a +girl, surely, and a graceful girl, wearing a scarlet cloak. She +carried her hat in her hand--not on her head, at all events. Surely it +was not Valmai in such a storm going over by such a dangerous path? +Probably a fisherman's wife or daughter!" But he gazed long and +steadily before he once more resumed his ride. In hot haste he rode +the rest of the way to Brynderyn. + +"The storm is rising," said the "Vicare du," as he joined his son at +the tea-table. + +"Yes," said the latter, pausing in his attack upon the roast fowl to +gaze at the clouds which scudded before the wind, "I expect it will be +a furious gale before midnight." + +As soon as the meal was over he rose, and fixing his hat firmly on his +head, said: + +"I am going down to the beach to see the waves, father. If I am not +back to supper you won't be frightened?" + +The old man muttered something about "folly to go out in such weather," +as Cardo disappeared into the stone passage. Making his way down to +the beach, he found the storm raging fiercely, and, gaining the shelter +of a rock, he sat down to rest and think. + +The sullen south-west wind moaned and shrieked as it rushed up the long +beach; it lurked in the hollows of the crags, and drove the sand and +foam before it. The Berwen looked yellow and muddy as it washed over +its stony bed. Above all came the roar of the breakers as they dashed +against the rocky sides of the island, which lay, a black mass, in the +seething water a few hundred yards from the shore. + +He looked across the blinding spray of the waves and thought of his +boat; but no, no boat would live in such a sea; besides, what +ridiculous fear was this that haunted him? + +At so great a distance as that between the road and the island it was +impossible that he could have distinguished Valmai from any other girl, +and what more natural than that one of the women living on the island +should be crossing the Rock Bridge. + +"I must be a fool to have nervous fears like a silly girl. I daresay I +shall meet Valmai on the shore." + +But he sought in vain for any sign of her, as she had sought him in the +morning. Indeed it was not likely that any tender girl would be out in +such a storm--and yet--"was it Valmai?" + +The thought _would_ come, the fear would haunt him. He was surprised +to find himself overtaken by a woman. + +"Dir, dir, what a storm," she remarked as she passed, hurried on her +way by the driving wind. + +One or two of Cardo's long steps brought him up with her. + +"Don't you come from Ynysoer?" he said. "I think I know your face." + +"Yes, gwae fi![3] that I had got safe back again, but my mother is +ill," she shouted, as the wind carried her words away, "and I must stay +with her till tomorrow, no one could go back over the Rock Bridge +to-night; though, indeed, I met a young girl crossing--" + +"Had she a red cloak?" asked Cardo. + +"Yes. She was Essec Powell's niece, and if she tries to come back +to-night I wouldn't give much for her life." + +"Here we part--good-bye," said Cardo. + +"Nos da, Ser," said the woman, but her voice was drowned by the roar of +the wind. + +"It was Valmai! I knew it was! Why did I not take my boat at once? +Now it is too late; and yet," he thought, "she cannot come till the +tide is low. I may get there in time. Surely she would not attempt to +cross the bridge yet?" + +For the rest of the evening Cardo paced restlessly over the beach, +buffeted by the strong wind, wetted by the spray, but still watching +narrowly the bridge of rocks, which connected the island with the +mainland. He knew for a certainty that Valmai was there, and he +watched with intense interest the darkening island, over which the +storm gathered with increasing fury. His plan was to wait until the +tide went down, and then to cross the bridge himself, so as to help +Valmai, or to prevent her attempting to return. + +After several hours' waiting in the shelter of the cliff, he saw by his +watch, which he was able to decipher by occasional gleams of moonlight, +that it was near upon nine o'clock. The moon was hidden at intervals +by heavy storm-clouds, which were hurrying before the wind; but when +her light shone out fitfully, it disclosed a scene of wild confusion; +the horizon was as black as ink, the seething sea beneath was white as +snow, and the sound of the wind and waves was deafening. + +Over the Rock Bridge the sea rushed like a mill race one moment leaving +it bare and black, the next covering it again with strong rushing +billows of foam. + +"She will not dare to return to-night," he thought, as he watched a +tossing, foaming tower of spray, which rose in the centre of the +bridge, where two streams of the seething waters met, and rose high in +the air together. + +The moon had again hidden her face, and in the darkness Cardo was +seized with a trembling fear. With bent and bare head (for he had long +before lost his hat) he made a blind rush over the bridge. For the +first few yards he got on safely, as each end was sheltered by high +rocks, which stood as sentinels looking across at each other. + +"So far, so good," thought Cardo, standing still a moment for breath; +"and now to cross this mill race!" + +But he was too late. Already he saw that Valmai had begun her way +across. + +On the island side the bridge was more sheltered from the storm, and +the girl was not only in a measure protected from the wind, but was +also hidden from the moonlight, and it was not until she had left the +shadow of the rocks and entered upon the open and unprotected reef that +Cardo in a sudden absence of clouds saw in the moonlight the delicate +figure wrapped in its scarlet cloak. For a moment she hesitated as she +felt the full force of the wind, and in her hesitation decided upon the +wrong course: she would run, she would reach the opposite rocks, and be +safe before the next gust of wind came. + +"Good God!" said Cardo, "she is lost!" as he saw her approach with +flying hair and fluttering garments towards the centre of the bridge, +which was for a moment left bare, and in that moment Cardo realised how +completely this stranger girl, who had seemed to drop from the clouds +into his quiet, uneventful life, had taken possession of his heart. +All this flashed through his mind and opened his eyes to the true state +of his feelings. + +Instantly he was making his way towards her, with strong steps and +sturdy shoulders fighting with the wind, which seemed determined to +baffle his attempts to reach Valmai before the periodical recurring +inrush of opposite streams should once more meet, and rise in towering +strife together. Thoroughly frightened and trembling, Valmai looked in +horror at the two opposing streams of water approaching her on either +side, and in her terror losing her self-command, was on the point of +giving herself up to the angry waters, which she felt herself too weak +to withstand. At this critical moment a dark form dashed through the +blinding spray--a form which she instantly recognised, and which as +quickly restored courage to her sinking heart. She felt the strong +arms clasped round her, but too late! for the next moment the +approaching waves had met, and rising high in the air in their furious +contact, had fallen with terrific force, sweeping her and her rescuer +into the boiling surf. Valmai became unconscious at once, but Cardo's +strong frame knew no sense of swooning nor faintness. His whole being +seemed concentrated in a blind struggle to reach the land--to save +Valmai, though he was fighting under terrible disadvantage. + +She had relaxed her grasp, and he had now to hold her safe with one +arm, thus having only one with which to struggle against the +suffocating, swirling waters. In a very few minutes he realised that +the fight was dead against him; in spite of all his strength and his +powerful frame, he was lifted and tossed about like a straw. The only +thing in his favour was the fact that the tide had turned, and was even +now combining with the strong wind to carry him towards a sheltered +corner on the mainland. With choking breath and blinded eyes he felt +himself carried on the crest of a wave, which bore him landwards, but +only to be drawn back again by its receding swell. He felt he was +helpless, though, had he the use of his two arms, he knew he would be +able to breast the stormy waters, and gain the land in safety; but +clutched in the nervous grasp of his left arm he held what was dearer +to him than life itself, and felt that to die with Valmai was better +than to live without her! His strength was almost gone, and with +horror he felt that his grasp of the girl was more difficult to retain, +as a larger wave than usual came racing towards him with foaming, +curling crest. He gave himself up for lost--he thought of his old +father even now poring over his books--he thought of Valmai's young +life so suddenly quenched--and with one prayer for himself and her, he +felt himself carried onward, tossed, tumbled over and over, but still +keeping tight hold of his precious burden. + +He was suddenly struck by a stunning blow, which for a moment seemed to +take away his senses--but only for a moment--for what was this calm? +what was this quiet sense of rest? was he sinking out of life into some +dim, unconscious state of being? had he seen the last of the clouds? +the moon--the stormy waters? Had Valmai already slipped away from him? +No; he still felt her within his grasp, and in a few moments he was +able to realise the meaning of the change in his feelings. He had been +carried like a shred of seaweed by that strong wave far up the beach on +the mainland, and in its receding flow it had swirled him into a round +cavity in the rocks, where as a boy he had often played and bathed and +fished; he knew it well, and saw in a moment that he was saved! +Clasping Valmai firmly, he ran up the beach, another combing, foaming +wave coming dangerously near his hurrying footsteps; but in spite of +the buffeting wind, he gained the shelter of the cliffs, and at last +laid his burden tenderly down on the rocks. And now the fight for life +was replaced by the terrible dread that Valmai might already be beyond +recall. + +The clear, cold moon looked down between the scudding clouds upon her +straightened form, the wind roared above them, and the lashing fury of +the waves still filled the air; but Valmai lay white and still. Cardo +looked round in vain for help; no one was near, even the fishermen had +safely bolted their doors, and shut out the wild stormy night. A faint +hope awoke in his heart as he remembered that Valmai had swooned before +she was engulfed with him in the sea, and he set to work with renewed +vigour to rub her cold hands, and press the water out of her long, +drenched hair; he was soon rewarded by signs of life in the rigid +form--a little sigh came trembling from her lips, her hand moved, and +there was a tremor in her eyelids. Cardo placed his arm under her +shoulders and, lifting her into a sitting posture, rested her head upon +his breast, the movement, the change of position--something awoke her +from her long swoon; was it the sense of Cardo's presence? did his +earnest longing call her spirit back? for she had been close upon the +shadow land. She came back slowly, dimly conscious of escaping from +some deadly horror, and awakening to something pleasant, something +happy. She slowly opened her eyes, and observing Cardo's strong right +hand, which still held and chafed her own, while his left arm upheld +her drenched form, she moved a little, and murmured: + +"Are you hurt?" + +"No," said Cardo, trembling in every limb with the excitement which he +had controlled until now, and with the delight of seeing life and +movement return to her, "hurt? no! only thankful to find you safe; only +anxious to get you home." + +Valmai's voice was weak and low, and he had to bend his head over her +to catch the words: + +"You have been near death for my sake--those dreadful waves!" + +"Do not think of them! I was in no danger. But I have been nearer +death since I have sat here watching your slow recovery. Now, Valmai," +he said, realising that every moment of exposure in her cold, drenched +garments was danger to her, "be brave; give yourself up to me, and I +will carry you home." + +But this adjuration was needless, for as he placed her gently down +while he rose to his feet he felt that she was limp and powerless as a +baby; he lifted her in his arms, and felt her weight no more than if he +had carried a storm-beaten bird. His own drenched condition he did not +consider--did not feel, while he climbed with careful footsteps up the +rugged path to Dinas, lighted only by the moon, whose beams were +continually obscured by the flying clouds. Pushing his way between the +furze and broom bushes, he was careful to let no stray branch catch +Valmai's face or hair, and as he reached the farm-yard in the rear of +the house, he was delighted to feel a strong and swift motion in her +frame. + +"Put me down, please," she whispered, "on the bench by the door." + +Cardo did so, reluctantly loosing his grasp of the tender form. + +"Now knock." + +And he obeyed, rapping loudly on the back door. The sound seemed to +rouse the inmates at once, for, with considerable thumping and +fumbling, somebody shuffled down the stairs. + +"Go now, I am safe," said Valmai, in a whisper. + +And Cardo went, but not before he had stooped down and pressed an +impassioned kiss upon the little listless hands. Neither spoke. +Valmai felt too weak and full of awakening happiness to trust her +voice, while Cardo felt the occasion was above the necessity for any +words. He waited behind the elder bushes until Gwen's full-moon face +appeared in the doorway, and her ejaculations of reproachful +astonishment (in which the Welsh language is prolific) showed that she +had seen Valmai, and fully appreciated the urgency of the situation. + +"Mawredd anwl! what is the meaning of this? Where have you been? and I +thinking you were in your warm bed!" + +"I have been to see Nance, and coming back over the Rock Bridge the sea +washed me away." + +"Nance! Nance! all the time! What you want to go there so often? +It's no wonder if you are drowned crossing that nasty place in such a +storm, You are like a wet sea-gull. If you were a baby you wouldn't be +more trouble," etc., etc. + +Cardo still waited until he saw in the kitchen the blaze of +freshly-piled logs on the culm fire, Gwen's voice still reaching him in +snappish, reproving tones through the closed door. Then he turned +away, and though he was bodily cold and saturated with the sea water, +his heart was full of warmth and a newly-awakened sense of the joy and +fulness of life. + + + +[1] Oatmeal and water kept until fermentation has commenced, and then +boiled into a thin porridge. + +[2] Dear heart. + +[3] Woe is me. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +GWYNNE ELLIS ARRIVES. + +For a few days, Valmai, although she had received no serious harm from +her watery adventure, still felt a little languor and indisposition, +which kept her a prisoner in the house. As she lay on the old shabby +sofa, her time was fully occupied by reading to her uncle, books of +Welsh history or the effusions of the old bards, which interested him +so much. Ever and anon, while he searched for a reference or took +notes of some special passage, she would fall into a dreamy reverie, a +happy smile on her lips and a light in her eyes which her uncle saw +not. Yes, Cardo loved her! She knew now that he did, and the world +was changed. She would make haste to get well and find him again on +the shore, on the cliffs, or on the banks of the Berwen. Her uncle had +heard from Gwen of her drenched condition on the night of the storm, +but had already forgotten the circumstance, and only recalled it when +he missed her active help in some arrangement of his heavy books. + +"How did you get wet, merch i?" + +"Coming over the Rock Bridge I was, uncle. I had been to see Nance, +and the storm increased so much when I was there that when I returned +the waves washed right over the bridge." + +"Well, to be sure! Now on the next page you will find a splendid +description of such a storm; go on, my girl," and Valmai continued the +reading. + +Meanwhile, Cardo, after a good night's rest, was no whit the worse for +his battle with the storm; but he was full of fears lest Valmai's more +delicate frame should suffer. He rose with the dawn and made his way +over the dewy grass across the valley, and into the field where Essec +Powell's cows were just awaking and clumsily rising from their night's +sleep under the quiet stars. The storm had disappeared as suddenly as +it had arisen, and all nature was rejoicing in the birth of a new day. +Gwen was already approaching with pail and milking stool as he crossed +the field through which a path led to Abersethin. She dropped a bob +curtsey and proceeded to settle her pail under "Corwen" and to seat +herself on her low stool. + +"Your young mistress got very wet last night?" said Cardo, in an +inquiring tone. + +"Yes, Ser, did you see her?" + +"Yes--I was crossing the bridge at the same time. Is she any the worse +for her wetting?" + +"Not much the matter with her," said Gwen; "'tis lying down she is, a +good deal,--miladi is a bit lazy, I think," and with this scant +information he had perforce to be content. + +When he returned to Brynderyn to breakfast, he found his father looking +somewhat discomposed as he read and re-read a letter which he had just +received. He made no comment upon its contents, however, but looking +up said: + +"You must have found the storm very interesting, Cardo; what kept you +out so late?" + +He did not add that he had paced up and down for an hour in his bedroom +after retiring for the night, peering out into the darkness in great +anxiety for his son's safety. + +"Very interesting, father; nothing less than a ducking on the Rock +Bridge! The storm was raging furiously there, and a girl was crossing +in the midst of it; she was in some danger, and I was able to help her +to cross in safety." + +"One of our congregation?" asked the old man. + +"By Jove! no, father; there isn't one girl under seventy in our +congregation!" + +"A Methodist, then, I suppose--one of Essec Powell's lot?" + +"Yes," said Cardo, beginning to redden; "but surely you wouldn't let a +woman be drowned without making an effort to save her because she was a +Methodist?" + +"I did not say so, Cardo; but certainly I should prefer my son's +risking his life for a member of the church." + +Cardo made a gesture of impatience which his father saw and felt. It +irritated him, and, fixing his eyes steadily on his son's face, he said: + +"I don't know how it is, but of late that subject has frequently been +on your tongue. I have no cause to love the Methodists, and I hope +they are not now going to add to my reasons for disliking them by +coming between me and my son. I simply wish you not to mention them to +me, Cardo--that is not much to ask." + +"I will not, father," said Cardo, pushing his plate away; "I will never +mention them to you again--" + +"Good!" replied his father. "I have a letter here which I would like +to read to you, but not this morning, as I am very busy." + +"All right, father--in the afternoon," said Cardo; and when Betto +appeared to clear away the breakfast things he was lost in a profound +reverie, his long legs stretched out before him and his hands buried +deep in his pocket. + +Betto tried in vain to recall him to outward surroundings by clattering +her china and by sundry "h'ms" and coughs, but Cardo still remained +buried in thought and jingling his money in his pocket. At last she +_accidentally_ jerked his head with her elbow. + +"Hello, Betto! what is the matter?" + +"My dear boy," said Betto, "did I hurt you? Where were you so late +last night?" + +"Oh, out in the storm. Have you seen my wet clothes? I flung them out +through my bedroom window; you will find them in a heap on the garden +wall." + +"Wet clothes? Caton pawb! did you get in the sea then?" + +"Oh, yes! tumbled over and over like a pebble on the beach," he said, +rising; "but you know such duckings are nothing to me; I enjoy them!" + +Betto looked after him with uplifted hands and eyes. + +"Well, indeed! there never was such a boy! always in some mischief; but +that's how boys are!" + +Cardo went out whistling, up the long meadow to the barren corner, +where the furze bushes and wild thyme and harebells still held their +own against the plough and harrow; and here, sitting in deep thought, +and still whistling in a low tone, he held a long consultation with +himself. + +"No! I will never try again!" he said at last, as he rose and took his +way to another part of the farm. + +In the afternoon he entered his father's study, looking, in his manly +strength, and with his bright, keen eyes, out of keeping with this +dusty, faded room. His very clothes were redolent of the breezy +mountain-side. + +Meurig Wynne still pored over apparently the self-same books which he +was studying when we first saw him. + +"Sit down, Cardo," he said, as his son entered; "I have a good deal to +say to you. First, this letter," and he hunted about amongst his +papers. "It is from an old friend of mine, Rowland Ellis of Plas +Gwynant. You know I hear from him occasionally--quite often enough. +It is waste of stamps, waste of energy, and waste of time to write when +you have nothing special to say. But he has something to say to-day. +He has a son, a poor, weak fellow I have heard, as far as outward +appearance and bodily health go--a contrast to you, Cardo--but a clever +fellow, a senior wrangler, and an M.A. of his college. He has just +been ordained, and wants to recruit his health before he settles down +to a living which is in the gift of his uncle, and which will be vacant +in a short time; and as he offers very good remuneration, I don't see +why he shouldn't come here. He would be a companion to you. What do +you say to it?" + +"As far as I am concerned, let him come by all means, if you wish it, +father; it can make no difference to me." + +"Indeed it will, though! You will have to show him about the +neighbourhood, and lay yourself out to make his stay here as pleasant +as possible, for he will pay well." + +"Pay!" said Cardo, with a frown, his sense of hospitality chafing under +the idea. "Pay! that spoils it all. If you take my advice in the +matter, you will write to your friend, and tell him to send his son +here by all means, but decline to take any remuneration." + +"Cardo, you are a fool! Do you think I would take a stranger into my +house, to have him always at my table, upsetting all my domestic +arrangements, for nothing? You ought to know me better. Fortunately +for you, with your pride and extravagant ideas, I am here to look after +affairs, and hitherto, thank God, I have been quite capable of doing +so! I only consulted you on the matter because I wanted to know what +chance there was of your making yourself agreeable to the young man, as +I cannot be bothered with him." + +"Oh, well, that is settled," said Cardo. "I shall be glad of a +companion, and will do my best to make him happy. I hope he'll be a +jolly fellow." + +"Jolly fellow? I hope he will be a steady young man, and a fit +companion for you. You don't seem to think of the necessity of that!" + +"I leave that to you, sir," said Cardo, with a humorous smile. "I +should never dream of questioning your prudence in the matter." + +The old man nervously fingered his papers. + +"Well, that is settled. I will not keep you longer from your fishing +or your rowing--which is it to-day, Cardo?" and he raised his black +eyebrows, and spoke with a slight sneer. + +Cardo laughed good-naturedly. + +"Neither fishing nor boating to-day, sir. No! it's that field of +swedes this afternoon," and he turned away with his hands dug deep in +his pockets. + +"A bad habit, Cardo! An industrious man never walks about with his +hands in his pockets." + +"All right, father! here goes for the swedes; and you bet I won't have +my hands in my pockets there. I flatter myself I can do good work as +well as any man." + +His father looked after him with a curious wistfulness. + +"A fine fellow!" he said to himself, as Cardo's steps receded along the +passage. "Not much fault to be found with him! How can I spare him? +But he must go--he must go." + +Meanwhile Cardo, no longer with his hands in his pockets, stood in the +swede field directing Shoni and Dye, and not only directing, but often +taking his share in the weeding or hoeing. He was full of interest in +the farming operations, which, in truth, were thoroughly congenial to +his tastes. + +"Bless the turnips and mangolds," he would often say; "at least they +take you out under the blue sky, and into the fresh air." He pondered +upon the proposed addition to his father's household. Suddenly an +unpleasant thought seemed to strike him, for his face flushed, and he +gave a long, low whistle. "Phew! I never thought of that! Why! I +shall never have an hour with Valmai with this confounded wrangler at +my heels! Deuce anwl! how shall I manage it? one thing only I know, no +power on earth--not even an 'M.A.'--shall keep me from her." + +But neither that day nor the next was Valmai to be seen. It was two or +three days before she was able to throw off entirely the languor which +followed her immersion in the sea; but on the evening of the third day, +as the sun drew near its setting, she once more roamed down the path to +the beach, a new light in her eyes and a warmer glow on her cheek. + +The long shadows of evening stretched over the shore, and the sun sank +low in the western sky, all flooded with crimson, and purple, and pale +yellow, as she flung herself down under a towering rock, still a little +languid, but full of an inrushing tide of happiness. The green waves +came rolling in, their foaming crests catching the rosy pink of the +sunset; the sea-gulls sailed lazily home from their day's fishing. The +sheep on the hillside were folded, and the clap clap of the mill in the +valley came on the breeze. + +Valmai sat long gazing at the crimson pathway over the sea, both heart +and soul filled to over-flowing with the beauty of the sunset hour. +Not even Cardo's presence was missed by her, for she knew now that he +loved her; she knew that sooner or later she should meet him, should +see him coming, through the golden sunlight of the morning, or in the +crimson glory of the evening, with buoyant steps and greeting hands +towards her; and almost as the thought crossed her mind, a sound fell +on her ear which brought the red blood mantling to her cheek. Thud, +thud on the sands; it was surely his footsteps, and in another moment +Cardo was beside her. + +"At last, Valmai!" he said, stretching out both hands to clasp her own +as she rose to meet him, "at last! Where have you been the last three +years? do not say they have been days! are you well and none the worse +for your wetting?" and still holding her hands in his, he made her sit +again on the rock, while he stretched himself on the dry sand at her +feet. + +A little silence fell upon them both--a strange constraint which was +new to them, and which Valmai was the first to break. + +"I ought to be thanking you for saving my life, Cardo Wynne; but indeed +I have no words to speak my thanks. I know I owe my life to you. What +will I say?" + +"Nothing," he said, leaning on his elbows and looking up into her face, +"nothing; there is no need for thanks, for I could not help myself. It +was the simplest thing; seeing you in danger I helped you out of it, +for, Valmai," and here his voice sank low and trembled a little, "it is +like this with me, and you must know it; had you been washed away by +those cruel waves, there would have been no Cardo Wynne here to-night! +I could not live without you! And you--Valmai, how is it with you?" + +Her head drooped very low. Cardo, lying on the sands, looked up into +the blushing face; but still she made no answer. Starting to his feet, +he stretched out both hands to her, and said: + +"Come, fanwylyd;[1] let us walk together--I cannot rest. Valmai, tell +me, have I the same place in your heart that you have in mine? Place +in my heart! Good heavens! There is no room there for anything else. +You own it all, Valmai; you sway my very being! Have you no comfort to +give me? Speak to me, dearest." + +"Cardo," said Valmai, "can I give you what you have already stolen from +me? I was alone and friendless when I met you that night in the +moonlight, now I am happy though my heart has gone from me. What shall +I say more? my English is not very good." + +"But you can say, 'Cardo, I love you.' Say that again." + +"Yes, I can say that, whatever." + +"Say it, then, Valmai." + +"Oh, well, indeed! You know quite well that I love you. Cardo, I love +you." And to the sound of the plashing waves the old, old story was +told again. + +He had asked, while he held her face between both hands, gazing +earnestly into the blue eyes, "Does this golden sky look down to-night +upon any happier than we two?" and with her answer even he was +satisfied. + +An hour later the moon added her silver glory to the scene, and under +her beams they continued long walking up and down, lingering by the +surf, whispering though there was no one to hear. They parted at last +under the elder bushes at Dinas. + +Cardo was right. In all Wales there were not that night two happier +hearts than theirs. No fears for the future, no dread of partings, no +thought of life's fiery trials, which were even now casting their +shadows before them. + +Valmai lay long awake that night, thinking of her happiness and +blushing, even in the darkness, as she remembered Cardo's burning words +of love; and he went home whistling and even singing in sheer +exuberance of joy. Forgotten his father's coldness; forgotten his +bare, loveless home; forgotten even the wrangler who was coming to +trouble him; and forgotten that nameless shadow of parting and +distance, which had hovered too near ever since he had met Valmai. She +loved him, so a fig for all trouble! They had pledged their troth on +the edge of the waves, and they thought not of the mysterious, untried +sea of life which stretched before them. + +Early in the following week Cardo drove to Caer Madoc to meet the +mail-coach, which entered the town with many blasts of the horn, and +with much flourishing of whip, at five o'clock every evening. In the +yard of the Red Dragon he waited for the arrival of his father's guest. +At the appointed time the coach came rattling round the corner, and, as +it drew up on the noisy cobble stones, a pale, thin face emerged from +the coach window and looked inquiringly round. + +"Mr. Gwynne Ellis, I suppose?" said Cardo, approaching and helping to +tug open the door. + +"Yes," said a high but pleasant voice, "and I suppose you are Mr. +Wynne's son," and the two young men shook hands. + +They were a complete contrast to each other. Cardo, tall and +square--the new-comer, rather short and thin, but with a frank smile +and genial manner which gave a generally pleasant impression. He wore +gold spectacles, and carried a portfolio with all an artist's +paraphernalia strapped together. + +"Too precious to be trusted amongst the luggage, I suppose," said Cardo. + +"You are right! As long as I have my painting materials safe, I can +get along anywhere; but without them I am lost." And he busied himself +in finding and dragging down his luggage. + +In less than ten minutes the two young men had left Caer Madoc behind, +and were fast lessening the distance between them and Brynderyn. + +"Very kind of you to meet me; and what a splendid horse," said Gwynne +Ellis. "Carries his head well, and a good stepper." + +"Fond of horses?" asked Cardo. + +"Oh! very," said the high-toned voice; "riding and painting are the +chief delights of my life--" + +"We can give you plenty of riding--'Jim,' here, is always at your +service; and as for the painting--well, I know nothing about it myself, +but I think I can show you as pretty bits of scenery as you ever saw +within the four sides of a gilt frame." And as they drew near the top +of the moor, where they caught sight of the long stretch of coast, with +its bays and cliffs and purple shadows, the new-comer was lost in +admiration. + +Cardo, who had been accustomed all his life to the beauties of the +coast, was amused at his friend's somewhat extravagant exclamations. + +"Oh, charming!" he said taking off his glasses and readjusting them on +his well-shaped nose; "see those magnificent rocks--sepia and cobalt; +and that cleft in the hills running down to the shore--ultra marine; +and what a flood of crimson glory on the sea--carmine, rose +madder--and--er--er--" + +"By Jove! it will be a wonderful paint box that can imitate those +colours," said Cardo, with a nod at the sunset. + +"Ah, true!" said Gwynne Ellis, "one would need a spirit brush dipped in +ethereal fire, + + "'A broad and ample road whose dust is gold, + Open, ye heavens! your living doors--'" + + +"That is very pretty," said Cardo, "but I am not much acquainted with +English poetry--a farmer's life, you know, is too busy for that sort of +thing." + +"I suppose so; but a farmer's life _is_ poetry itself, in its idyllic +freshness and purity." + +Cardo shrugged his shoulders. + +"I don't know so much about that, but it is a life that suits me. I +was meant for a farmer, I am sure--couldn't soar much above turnips and +hay, you know. See here, now, there's a crop of hay to gladden a +farmer's heart! In a week or two we shall have it tossed about in the +sun, and carried down through the lanes into the haggard, and the lads +and lasses will have a jolly supper in the evening, and will give us +some singing that will wake the echoes from Moel Hiraethog yonder. +Then the lanes are at their best, with the long wisps of sweet hay +caught on the wild rose bushes." + +"Aha! my friend, I see I am right," said Ellis, "and a farmer is a +poet, whether he knows it or not." + +Cardo laughed heartily, as they alighted at the front door. + +"Tell my father that--do. Cardo Wynne a poet! that is something new, +indeed!" + +Here Mr. Wynne, followed by Betto, joined the group. The former, +though in his usual undemonstrative manner, made the new-comer welcome, +and Betto in her excitement was so lavish with her bob curtseys, that +Cardo came in for a few, until he recalled her to her senses by gravely +taking off his hat to her, at which she winked and nudged him with her +elbow, as she flew about in the exuberance of her hospitality. + +Seated at the tea-table, the three men soon became quite at their ease. + +"We are plain people," said Mr. Wynne; "I hope you will not find us too +primitive in our ways." + +"Nothing can be too simple for me, sir," said the visitor, in his +high-pitched voice, and speaking a little through his nose. "What can +be more idyllic than to drive through the glowing sunset, and find such +a meal as this waiting for me--broiled fish, cream, honey?" + +Meurig Wynne reflected with satisfaction that none of these luxuries +were expensive. + +"I hope you will get strong here," he said; "the air is pure and +bracing, and you can roam about where you please. If you prefer +riding, you can always have 'Captain' or 'Jim.' I want to sell 'Jim,' +but if I don't get 40 pounds for him, I shall keep him till September +fair." + +Gwynne Ellis put down his knife and fork, and sat gazing silently at +the fair scene which lay stretched before him. + +"What's the matter? said Cardo. + +"Oh! exquisite charming! That view alone is worth coming down for! +See those purple shadows! see that golden light on the gorse bushes!" + +"Well," said Mr. Wynne, rising, "I must return to my study, and leave +you young men to finish your meal together." + +Cardo, though amused at, and somewhat despising his friend's +sentimental enthusiasm, yet on the whole did not dislike him. + +"Oh! I believe the fellow is all right," he thought, when they had +parted for the night; "in fact, I rather like him; and, by Jove! I had +forgotten all about his being a wrangler! There's no conceit about him +anyway; if there had been, I should have had to pitch him out of the +dogcart--upset him into the sea or something--but I think he is all +right." And he went satisfied to his bed, and slept the sleep of the +just, or, at all events--of the busy farmer! + + + +[1] Beloved. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +CORWEN AND VALMAI. + +Gwynne Ellis soon found himself quite at home at Brynderyn, and enjoyed +the freedom and variety of his life in its picturesque neighbourhood. + +To Cardo, who had hitherto been so much alone, his presence was a very +pleasant change, and though Ellis was a complete contrast to himself in +every way, he liked him, and felt the advantage of companionship; more +especially in the evenings, when, his father shut up in his study, and +the old parlour but dimly lighted, he had always found the time hang +rather heavily. He was wont to relieve the tedium of the evening hour +by strolling into the kitchen, sitting in the rush chair, always looked +upon as the young master's, and freely entering into the games or +gossip of the farm-servants. He was much amused at the enthusiasm and +romance of his new-found friend, who, coming from a populous and +uninteresting border country, was charmed by the unconventional ways of +the Welsh coast. He threw a glamour of poetry and romance over the +most commonplace incidents; and Cardo, to tease him, would often assume +a stolid and unimpressionable manner that he was far from feeling. + +On the whole, they pulled well together, and the acquaintance, begun +accidentally, bid fair to become a lifelong friendship. + +Immediately after breakfast every morning, Gwynne Ellis, armed with +brushes, palettes, and divers other encumbrances, would ramble away +over shore or cliff, bringing with him in the evening the most +beautiful scenes and views of the neighbourhood, which his deft brush +had transferred to the pages of his portfolio. He was a true artist, +and, moreover, possessed one admirable trait, generally lacking in +inferior artists, namely, humility! And as he held up for Cardo's +inspection an exquisite sketch of sea and sky and tawny beach, he +waited anxiously for his criticisms, having found out that though his +friend was no artist himself, his remarks were always regulated by good +taste and common sense. + +"_That_ Nance's cottage?" Cardo was saying to-night as he sat in the +rush chair by the fire in the farm kitchen--Ellis on a bench beside +him, the little round table supporting the portfolio before them, "that +cosy, picturesque-looking cottage Nance's! those opal tints over sea +and sky--that blue smoke curling from the chimney, and that crescent +moon rising behind the hill! Come, Ellis, you have given us a dose +this time!" + +"Dose of what?" said Ellis, putting on his gold-rimmed glasses. + +"Why! of romance--of poetry--of imagination of course!" + +"Give you my word, my dear fellow, that's how it appears to me. You +are blind, dead to the beauties which surround you. Now, what would +that scene appear like to you?" + +Cardo laughed. "Why, exactly what it appeared to you, Ellis, only I +like to tease you. I see all these beauties, old chap, though I lack +the power to pourtray them as you do." + +"I believe you, Cardo, though I doubt if you realise the blessing you +enjoy in living amongst such picturesque scenes. To me, coming from a +flat, uninteresting country, it seems a privilege to thank God for on +your knees." + +"Perhaps I feel it as much as you do, Ellis, though I couldn't put it +into words, all I know is, I had rather live here on five shillings a +week than I would on five pounds elsewhere." + +"You are a matter-of-fact fellow. Five shillings a week indeed! and +five pounds--worse! If you were not so much bigger and stronger than +me I'd knock you down, Cardo. Come, let us have a stroll in the +moonlight." + +And they went out, the one to rhapsodise and to quote poetry; the other +to shock his friend with his plain, unvarnished remarks, while his eyes +and thoughts crossed the valley, and followed the moonlight which +lightened up the old grey house looking down from the opposite hill. + +"Where was Valmai?" He had caught a glimpse of her in the afternoon as +he returned from Abersethin, the path to which led him through Essec +Powell's fields. Caught a glimpse of her only, for as ill luck would +have it, as he crossed one corner of the field she was reaching the +gate at the further corner. Other maidens wore white frocks and straw +hats, but his heart told him that this was no other than Valmai. He +could hear her singing as she went, a long wreath of ox-eyed daisies +trailing behind her, the gate open and she was gone; but surely here +were signs of her recent presence, for round the horns of Corwen, the +queen of the herd of cows, was wreathed the rest of the daisy chain. +She was a beautiful white heifer, with curly forehead and velvet ears. +As Cardo approached and patted her neck, she looked softly at him out +of her liquid brown eyes shaded with long black lashes. + +"She is a beauty!" said Cardo, looking at her with the critical eye of +a farmer, "and worthy to be Valmai's pet. What a picture for Ellis to +paint! Valmai and Corwen. By Jove, I'll try to manage it." + +Gwynne Ellis was delighted when Cardo broached the subject as they +roamed over the cliff in the moonlight. + +"Can you paint animals and--er--er--human beings as well as you can +scenery, Ellis?" + +"Not quite, perhaps, but still pretty well. You liked that sketch of +'The priest and the girl at the confessional,' didn't you?" + +"Yes--very much. Well, now, what do you say to a pretty white cow and +her mistress?" + +"Oh! 'a pretty girl milking her cow'--a charming subject. Show it me, +Cardo--not Betto, now--you don't mean Betto? though, 'pon my word, I +have seen her look very picturesque on the milking stool." + +"No, no, no! Caton pawb! man, I'll show you a prettier picture than +that. She's a lovely creature! with brown velvet eyes, her forehead +all covered with little round curls." + +"What! a friz?" + +"Well, if you like to call it so. Lovely ears and a little soft nose, +the whole surmounted by a pair of short brown horns." + +"Good heavens! the woman?" + +"Why, no! the cow, of course!" + +"Oh, I see; the friz and the brown eyes belong to a cow then,--but what +of her mistress? My dear fellow, don't waste all your poetry on the +cow." + +"As I haven't much to spare, you think. Well, her mistress +is--Valmai!" and Cardo lifted his hat as he spoke. + +Gwynne Ellis took two or three long puffs at his pipe, and looked +curiously at Cardo, who stood looking over at the glimmering light in +one of the windows at Dinas. + +"Cardo Wynne, I am beginning to understand you; I have mistaken the +whole situation. Here have I been thinking myself the only man in the +place capable of appreciating its beauties properly--the only poetic +and artistic temperament amongst you all--and I gradually awake to find +myself but a humdrum, commonplace man of the world, who has dropped +into a nest of sweet things: earth, sea, and sky combining to form +pictures of beauty; picturesque rural life; an interesting and +mysterious host; an idyllic cow; a friend who, though unable, or +perhaps unwilling, to express his enthusiasm, yet thoroughly feels the +poetry of life; and, better than all, I find myself in close touch with +a real romantic love affair! Now, don't deny it, my dear fellow; I see +it all--I read it in your eyes--I know all about it. The pretty cow's +lovely mistress; and her name is--Valmai! How tender! My Welsh is +rather rusty, but I know that means 'sweet as May.' Oh, Cardo Wynne, +what a lucky dog you are!" + +Cardo was still silent, and his friend continued, pointing to Dinas: + +"And there she dwells (haven't I seen your eyes attracted there +continually? Of course, there's the glimmer of her lamp!) high on the +breezy cliff, with the pure sea wind blowing around her, the light and +joy of her father's home, and soon to fly across the valley and lighten +up another home." + +"Oh, stop, stop, for mercy's sake!" said Cardo. "Your Pegasus is +flying away with you to-night, Ellis. Your imagination is weaving a +picture which is far beside the truth. You have not guessed badly. I +do love Valmai, Corwen's mistress, and I wish to God the rest of the +picture were true." + +"Pooh! my dear fellow, 'the course of true love,' you know, etc., etc. +It will all come right in time, of course; these things always do. +I'll manage it all for you. I delight in a love affair, especially one +that's got a little entangled, you know." + +"Here it is, then," said Cardo. "Valmai has neither father nor mother, +and lives up there with an old uncle, who takes no more notice of her +than he does of his cows or his sheep, but who would be quite capable +of shutting her up and feeding her on bread and water if he knew that +she ever exchanged greetings with a Churchman, for he is a Methodist +preacher and her guardian to boot." + +A long-drawn whistle was Gwynne Ellis's only answer, but he rubbed his +hands gleefully. + +"Then," continued Cardo, "on this side of the valley there is my +father, shut up with his books, taking no interest in anything much +except his church and his farm, but with a bigoted, bitter hatred of +all dissenters, especially Methodists, and most especially of the +Methodist preacher. Why, Ellis, they convene public meetings on +purpose to pray for each other, and I believe if my father knew that I +loved Essec Powell's niece he would _break his heart_. Therefore, I +cannot tell him--it is impossible; but it is equally impossible for me, +as long as I have any being, to cease to love Valmai. Now, there! what +way do you see out of that maze?" + +"Many ways," said Ellis, rubbing his hands with delight. "My dear +fellow, you have pitched upon the right person. I'll help you out of +your difficulties, but you must let me see her." + +"All right!--to-morrow!" said Cardo, as they neared Brynderyn. + +When their voices reached the Vicar's ears, he paused in his reading, +and a look of pleasure softened his white face, but only for an +instant, for as the young men passed the window a dark and mournful +look chased away the momentary softness. + +"Soon!" he said, "soon I will tell him he ought to be prepared--I +_will_ tell him!" + +It was no easy matter next day to find Valmai, though Cardo and Gwynne +Ellis sought for her over shore and cliff and by the brawling Berwen. +They were returning disconsolate through the turnip fields at noon, +when Cardo caught sight of a red spot in the middle of a corn-field. + +"There she is, Ellis," he said, turning round; "have we time to go +back?" + +"What! that little scarlet poppy in the corn?" + +"Yes; it is Valmai's red hood; she wears it sometimes, and sometimes a +broad-brimmed white hat." + +Ellis looked at his watch. + +"Too late to go back now; it is close upon one o'clock." + +"Deucedly provoking!" said Cardo; "we will try again after dinner." + +But after dinner they seemed to be no more successful, although they +found their way into the very field where they had seen the red hood. + +"Let us follow the path," said Ellis stoutly; "it seems to lead +straight by the back of the house, and that old ivy-covered barn looks +tempting, and suggestive of a beautiful sketch." + +Cardo hesitated. + +"Come along, Cardo; not all the Methodist preachers in the world can +frighten me back when I am on the track of a pretty picture." + +In the old ivy-covered barn they found Valmai. The big door was open, +and in the dim, blue light of the shady interior, Shoni and she were +busily engaged with Corwen, who had been ailing since the previous +evening. Ellis was instantly struck by the picturesque beauty of the +group before him. Corwen, standing with drooping head, and rather +enjoying her extra petting; Shoni, with his brawny limbs and red hair, +patting her soft, white flanks, and trying, with cheerful chirrups, to +make her believe she was quite well again. Valmai stood at her head, +with one arm thrown round her favourite's neck, while she kissed the +curly, white forehead, and cooed words of endearment into the soft, +velvet ears. + +"Darling beauty! Corwen fâch!" + +Here Gwynne Ellis, irresistibly attracted by the scene before him, +boldly entered the barn. + +The girl looked up surprised as he approached, hat in hand. + +"A thousand apologies," he said, "for this intrusion; but my friend and +I were roaming about in search of something to paint, and my good +fortune led me here; and again I can only beg a hundred pardons." + +"One is enough," said Shoni sulkily. "What you want?" + +The painting paraphernalia strapped on Gwynne Ellis's back had not made +a favourable impression upon Shoni. He took him for one of the +"walking tramps" who infested the neighbourhood, and made an easy +living out of the hospitable Welsh farmers. + +Valmai saw Shoni's mistake, and rebuked him in Welsh. + +"There is nothing to pardon," she said, turning to Mr. Ellis, "and if +there is anything here that you would like to paint, I am sure my uncle +would be quite willing. Will I go and ask him?" + +"Thank you very much; but if you go, the picture will be spoiled!" + +But Valmai, taking no notice of the implied compliment, began her way +to the big door. + +"This lovely white cow! do you think your uncle would allow me to paint +her?" + +"Oh! yes, I am sure, indeed!" said Valmai, turning round; "but not +to-day, she has been ill--to-morrow she will be out in the field, and +then I will make a daisy chain for her, and she will look lovely in a +picture." And she passed out into the sunshine. + +Gwynne Ellis heard a long-drawn "Oh!" of pleased surprise as she +discovered Cardo hovering about the door, and he considerately entered +into conversation with Shoni, endeavouring to express himself in his +mother-tongue, but with that hesitation and indistinctness common to +the dwellers in the counties bordering upon England, and to the +"would-be genteel" of too many other parts of Wales, who, perfectly +unconscious of the beauty of their own language, and ignorant of its +literature, affect English manners and customs, and often pretend that +English is more familiar to them than Welsh, a fatuous course of +conduct which brings upon them only the sarcasm of the lower classes, +and the contempt of the more educated. + +"What you is clabbering about, man?" said Shoni indignantly. "Keep to +the English if that is your language, 'coss me is spoke English as well +as Welsh." + +"Yes, I see you do," said Ellis, "and I am thankful to meet with a man +so learned. To know two languages means to look at everything from two +points of view--from two sides, I mean. A man who knows two languages +knows half as much again of everything as a man who can only speak one." + +Shoni scratched his head; he was mollified by the stranger's evident +appreciation of his learning, but thought it necessary to keep his wits +about him. + +"With these foreigns, you know, you never know wherr they arr--these +English, you know," he was wont to say, "nor wherr they arr leading you +to." + +"What wass you walk about the country for?" was his next remark. + +"Ah, that's it now! You are a sensible man; you come to the point at +once. Well, I am very fond of making pictures." + +"Sell them?" + +"Oh no, just for my own pleasure; every man has his--" + +"Crack!" said Shoni. + +"Yes, crack, if you like," said Ellis, laughing, and opening his +portfolio; "here are some of my cracks." + +And they drew near the doorway, leaving Corwen much dissatisfied at the +cessation of attentions. + +Cardo and Valmai had disappeared. Shoni was fast losing his head to +this fellow with the high nose and high voice, who evidently knew a +sensible man when he saw him. + +"There is Nance Owen's cottage," said the artist, "at the back of the +island; do you recognise it?" + +Shoni was lost in admiration, but did not think it wise to show it, so +he stood silent for some time, with his hands under his coat tails and +his red-bearded chin first turned to one side and then to the other, as +he looked with critical eyes at the pictures. + +"It's the very spit of the place," he said at last; "let's see another." + +And Ellis picked out his masterpiece. + +"That's Ogo Wylofen," he said. + +"Ach y fi!" said Shoni, with a shudder, "wherr you bin when you painted +that?" + +"At the mouth of the cave in a boat. It is magnificent, that rushing +water, those weird wailings, and the mysterious figures of spray which +pass up into the dark fissures." + +But this was far above Shoni's head. + +"Caton pawb, man!" he said, "not me would go in a boat to that hole for +the world. It is a split in the earth, and those are ghosts or witches +or something that walk in and out there; but anwl! anwl! you must be a +witch yourself, I think, to put those things on paper. Oh, see that +red sun, now, and the sea all red and yellow! Well, indeed!" + +"Well, now," said Ellis, "I want to have a picture of Corwen." + +"Yes, to-morrow, in the field, and me standing by her. I will put on +my new gaiters." + +"The young lady has gone to ask your master's consent." + +"The master!" said Shoni, locking the barn door; "pooh! 'sno need to +ask him. You kom to-morrow and make a picksher on Corwen and me. +Wherr you stop?" + +"At Brynderyn." + +"With the Vicare du? Oh, jâr i!" said Shoni, taking off his hat to +scratch his head, "there's a pity now. Essec Powell will nevare be +willing for that; but nevare you mind, you kom. Here's Valmai." + +Cardo was nowhere to be seen. + +"I asked my uncle, sir," she said, "but I am sorry to say when he heard +you were the Vicar's friend he was not willing, but he did not say no." + +"Twt, twt," said Shoni, interrupting, "you wass no need to ask Essec +Powell. The gentleman is kom to-morrow to make a picksher on Corwen +and me." + +Valmai could not resist a smile at Shoni's English, which broke the ice +between her and Gwynne Ellis; and as Shoni disappeared round the corner +of the barn, she gave him her hand, frankly saying: + +"Good-bye, Mr. Ellis; I must go in to tea." + +"Good-bye," he said, "I will venture to bring my paints to-morrow to +Corwen's field. And you--you will keep your promise to come and make +the daisy chain?" + +"Well, indeed, I can't promise, but I will try, whatever." + +"And then you will honour me by looking over my portfolio." + +"And the Vicar objects to that girl," he exclaimed to himself, as he +proceeded down the path to the shore. "What a sweet, sensitive mouth! +Oh, Cardo, Cardo Wynne, I can only say, as I said before, you are a +lucky dog!" + +He had wondered what had become of Cardo, but with his full +appreciation of a secret love-affair, had had too much tact to ask +Valmai, and was not much surprised to find him lying at full length on +the sandy beach. + +"Well, Wynne," he said, pretending to sulk a little, "you _did_ leave +me in the lurch." + +"Leave you in the lurch! my dear fellow, do forgive me. To tell the +truth I forgot all about you until Valmai went indoors to find her +uncle. I waited to see if she would come out again, but she never did. +I believe she was waiting until I had gone; she's dreadfully chary of +her company." + +"Another charm," said Ellis; "one would get tired of an angel who was +always _en evidence_. She is an ideal girl. Tell me when you are +going to retire, old fellow, and then I will try my luck. That sweet +mouth, though the delight of a lover, is the despair of an artist." + +Cardo sighed. + +"Well, she came back after you were gone, then, and shook hands with +me, but said her uncle did not seem delighted to hear I was the Vicar's +friend." + +"Of course not." + +"But I made love to Shoni and gained his consent, and he is the real +master there, I fancy." + +"You did?" said Cardo, lost in admiration of his friend's shrewdness. + +"I did," said Ellis. "To-morrow I am to go to the field and paint +Corwen and Valmai has promised to come and make a daisy chain for the +occasion." + +"Has she indeed?" said Cardo, with great interest. "She would not +promise me. I believe she loves to see me miserable." + +"Well, cheer up," said Ellis, "for I shall be a precious long time at +those curls of Corwen's and those expressive brown eyes. Shoni, I +know, will stick to me like a leech, but you and Valmai, I expect, will +meanly desert me again." + +Next day Valmai was as good as her word, for, as the young men entered +the field at one corner, she appeared at the gate in the other, and as +she came towards them, Gwynne Ellis was struck anew by the beauty and +freshness of her appearance. She wore a simple white frock, her fair, +broad forehead was shaded by a white sun-bonnet, and she carried a +wreath of moon daisies, which she flung over Corwen's neck who was +grazing peacefully among the buttercups, ignorant of the honour +awaiting her. + +Valmai nodded playfully to Cardo and his friend as they drew near, and, +taking Corwen's soft, white ear, drew her towards them with many +endearing terms. + +"Come then, my queen, dere di, come along, then, and show your +beautiful brown eyes, and your pretty white curls. Here we are, Mr. +Ellis; will we do?" and, holding up her white frock, she made a demure +little curtsey to the two young men, while Shoni, also arriving on the +scene, looked at her with amused surprise, not unmixed with reproof. + +"Iss you must excuse Valmai, gentlemen," he said, tugging his red +forelock; "she iss partly a foreign, and not know our manners about +here." + +"Oh, we'll excuse her," said Gwynne Ellis, while Cardo clasped her hand +and gazed rapturously at the blushing face under the white bonnet. + +"I wass want her," said Shoni, with a jerk of his thumb towards Valmai, +"to put on her best frock, but no!" and he clicked his tongue against +the roof of his mouth, "there's odd things woman are! 'ts 'ts!" + +"Well, indeed," said Valmai, "I did not think a smart gown would suit +the fields, whatever!" + +"Couldn't be better, Miss Powell," said Ellis, arranging his group, and +introducing Shoni as a shadowy background. With a few deft touches of +his brush he had drawn the outlines of his picture, with good-natured +artfulness devoting much time to finishing off Corwen and dismissing +Valmai and Cardo. + +"Now you two can go," he said, "but I can't do without Shoni. A little +black spot at the back of that ear?" + +"No, no--brown," said Shoni, delighted to be of such importance, "and +the same brown smot on the nother ear, and that's the only smot upon +her!" + +He watched with intense interest the progress of the picture, calling +the artist's attention to all Corwen's good points as though he were +appraising her at a cattle sale, and an hour passed away quickly both +to the artist and Shoni; but to Cardo and Valmai, what a golden hour! +to stroll away together over the soft grass studded with buttercups, +down to the edge of the cliffs, where they sat among the gorze bushes +looking out at the rippling blue bay, silent from sheer happiness, but +taking in unconsciously the whole beauty of the scene, for it was +engraved upon their minds and often recalled in after years. + +"There!" said Gwynne Ellis at length, closing his portfolio with a +snap, "I can finish the rest at home--" + +"Iss, iss," said Shoni, "iss not so much otts about Valmai." + +"And to-morrow I will finish your gaiters, Shoni." + +"Very well, sir; pliss you remember, seven buttons on both of the two +legs." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE VICAR'S STORY. + +The spring had gone; summer had taken her place and was spreading all +her wealth of beauty over the scene. The sea lay shimmering in the +golden sunshine, the little fishing-boats flitted about the bay like +white-winged butterflies. On the yellow sands the waves splashed +lazily; up on the cliffs the sea crows cawed noisily, and the sea-gulls +sailed high in the air, and day after day Gwynne Ellis sought and found +some new scene of beauty to transfer to his portfolio. Every day he +trudged away in the morning and returned late in the evening, fast +gaining strength and health, and bidding fair soon to rival Cardo in +his burly breadth of chest. + +And where was Cardo through all this summer weather? The duties of his +farm were never very onerous, as, under Ebben's practical management +and his father's careful eye all the work was carried on regularly, and +he well knew that with every year, and with their inexpensive menage, +his father's riches were increasing, and that there was no real reason +why he should work at all; but he was one of those to whom idleness was +intolerable. True! he could lie on the sands with his hat over his +face for an hour sometimes, listening to the plashing waves and the +call of the sea-birds; he could sail in his boat on the bay for many a +sunny afternoon, the sails flapping idly in the breeze, while he with +folded hands leant against the mast, lost in thought, his eyes narrowly +scanning the cliffs and rocks around for some sign of Valmai, and +sometimes rewarded by a glimpse of her red hood or a wave of her +handkerchief; but for the lounging laziness which shirks work, and +shrinks from any active exertion, he had nothing but contempt. Dye +always averred "that the work never went so well as when the young +master helped at it." + +"Twt, twt, he is like the rest of the world these days," said Ebben, +"works when he likes, and is idle when he likes. When I was young--" +etc. etc. + +When the haymaking began he was everywhere in request, and entered with +much energy into the work of the harvest. Early and late he was out +with the mowers, and, at a push, with his strong shoulders and brawny +arms could use the scythe as well as any of the men. The Vicar paid +occasional visits to the hayfields, and Betto was busy from morning to +night filling the baskets with the lunch of porridge and milk, or the +afternoon tea for the haymakers, or preparing the more substantial +dinner and supper. + +"What's Dinas thinking of?" said Ebben, drying his heated face; "not +begun to mow yet?" + +"Begin to-morrow," answered Dye. "Essec Powell forgot it was hay +harvest, until Valmai pulled him out by the coat, and made him look +over the gate." + +"Hast seen the picture," said Ebben, "Mr. Ellis has made of her and +Corwen? Splendid!" + +"No," said Dye; "has he? What will the Vicare say? Jâr-i! there'll be +black looks!" + +But Gwynne Ellis had been wiser than to show his sketch to the Vicar; +he was learning like Cardo that if there was to be peace at Brynderyn, +neither Essec Powell nor his flock nor his family must be mentioned. + +The last full wain of sweet scented hay had been carted into the +haggard, amidst the usual congratulatory comments of the haymakers, who +had afterwards trooped into the farm-yard, where, under the pale +evening sky, with the sunset glow behind them, and the moon rising full +before them, they seated themselves at the long supper table prepared +by Betto and Shan in the open yard. + +First the bowls were filled with the steaming cawl, and then the wooden +platters were heaped with the pink slices of home-cured bacon, and +mashed up cabbages. Last of all came the hunches of solid rice +pudding, washed down by "blues" [1] of home-brewed ale; and the talk +and the laughter waxed louder and merrier, as they proceeded with their +meal. + +Gwynne Ellis sat perched on the wall under the elder tree sketching the +group, and evidently affording them much amusement. The Vicar looked +at them through his study window, but Cardo, who had worked hard all +day in the field, was absent. + +Down in the shady path by the Berwen, he and Valmai walked and sang +together. Of course she could sing, with the clear, sweet voice and +the correct ear common to most Welshwomen, and Cardo sharing also in +the national gift, their voices frequently blended together in song, +and the sylvan valley often echoed to the tones of their voices, more +especially in the old ballad, which tradition said had been composed by +a luckless shepherd who had lived in this valley, + + "By Berwen's banks my love hath strayed," etc. + +The June roses bent down towards them, the trailing honeysuckle swept +her cheek, and as the sunset faded and the clear moon rose in the sky +their voices were low and tender. + +"I have seen so little of you lately, Valmai." + +"So little!" said the girl, in feigned astonishment. "Indeed you are a +greedy man. How oftentimes has Gwen called me and I have been absent, +and even my uncle asked me yesterday, 'Where dost spend thy time, +child; on the shore?' and I said, 'Yes, uncle, and by the Berwen.'" + +"How strange it is," said Cardo, "that no one seems to come here but +you and me, and how fortunate." + +"Well, indeed," returned the girl, "there was scarcely any path here +till I came, the ferns and nut trees had quite shut it up." + +"Yes," said Cardo, "I always thought it was a thicket, though I often +roamed the other side of the stream. And now the dear little dell is +haunted by a sweet fairy, who weaves her spells and draws me here. Oh, +Valmai, what a summer it is!" + +"Yes," she said, bending her head over a moon-daisy, from which she +drew the petals one by one. "Loves me not," she said, as she held the +last up for Cardo's inspection with a mischievous smile. + +"It's a false daisy, love," he said, drawing her nearer to him, "for if +my heart is not wholly and entirely yours, then such a thing as _love_ +never existed. Look once more into my eyes, cariad anwl,[2] and tell +me you too feel the same." + +"Oh, Cardo, what for will I say the same thing many times?" + +"Because I love to hear you." + +The girl leant her cheek confidingly on his breast, but when he +endeavoured to draw her closer and press a kiss upon the sweet mouth, +she slipped away from his arms, and, shaking her finger at him +playfully, said, "No, no, one kiss is enough in a week, +whatever--indeed, indeed, you shan't have more," and she eluded his +grasp by slipping into the hazel copse, and looking laughingly at him +through its branches. "Oh, the cross man," she said, "and the +dissatisfied. Smile, then, or I won't come out again." + +"Come, Valmai, darling, you tantalise me, and I begin to think you are +after all a fairy or a wood nymph, or something intangible of that +kind." + +"Intangible, what is that?" she said, returning to his side with a +little pucker on her brow. "Oh, if you begin to call me names, I must +come back; but you must be good," as Cardo grasped her hand, "do you +hear, and not ask for kisses and things." + +"Well, I won't ask for kisses and things," said Cardo, laughing, +"until--next time." + +And thus, while Essec Powell was lost in dreams of the old bards and +druids, and the Vicar counted his well-garnered hayricks, these two +walked and sang in the mazes of the greenwood, the soft evening sky +above them, the sweet sea-breezes around them, and talked the old +foolish delicious words of love and happiness. + +What wonder was it that, as alone under the stars, they returned to the +haunts of men, the links of the love that bound them to each other grew +stronger and stronger; and that to Valmai, as they parted on the shore, +all of earthly delight seemed bound up in Cardo; and to him, as he +watched the lithe, graceful figure climbing up the rugged path to the +cliffs, all the charm and beauty of life seemed to go with her. + +After supper, at which the Vicar had been more silent than usual, he +rose, and for a moment stood still, and, looking at his son, seemed +about to speak, but appearing to change his mind, after a curt +good-night, he walked away through the long stone passage with his +usual firm step. He was so regular and fixed in his habits that even +this little hesitation in his manner surprised Cardo, but he had not +much time for conjecture, as his father's voice was heard at the study +door. + +"Caradoc," he called, "I want to speak to you." + +Cardo cast an involuntary glance of astonishment at Gwynne Ellis as he +rose from the table and put his pipe back on its bracket. + +"I think I shall go to bed," said Ellis, leaning back with a yawn and a +stretch. "I have been on my legs all day, and a jolly day it has been!" + +The Vicar was standing at the study door holding it a little ajar; he +opened it wide for his son's entrance, and closed it carefully before +he seated himself in his usual place by the writing-table. + +"Shall I light your candles, father?" + +"Yes--one will do." + +And, while Cardo busied himself with the candle and matches, and drew +down the blinds, his father fumbled amongst his papers and coughed +awkwardly. + +"Sit down, Cardo. I have something to say to you which I have been +wanting to say for some time, and which I hope will give you pleasure." + +Cardo said nothing, his attention being rivetted upon his father's +countenance; the marble face seemed whiter than usual, the deep shadows +round the eyes darker and--was it fancy?--or were the lips whiter? + +"What is it, father?" said Cardo, at last pitying the old man's evident +nervousness; "no bad news, I hope?" + +"Bad news!" said the Vicar, with a forced smile, which disclosed a row +of large and rather yellow teeth. "Didn't I say I hoped it would +please you?" + +"Yes, I forgot, sir." + +"Well, it is this: you live a very quiet, monotonous life here, and +though it has many advantages, perhaps to a young man it would also +appear to have many drawbacks. You have lately had Mr. Gwynne Ellis's +company, which I am glad to see you have thoroughly appreciated. I +should have been annoyed, had it been otherwise, considering that it +was not without some change of my usual domestic ways that I was able +to arrange this little matter for you. I own I should not like you to +imbibe all his ideas, which I consider very loose and unconstitutional; +but on the whole, I have liked the young man, and shall be sorry when +he leaves, more particularly as he pays well." + +Cardo winced. "I am very happy working on the farm, and if I have +appeared discontented, my looks have belied me." + +"No, no," said his father, tapping with his finger on the open page +before him. "No! you seem to have a fund of animal spirits; but I am +quite aware that your life is uneventful and dull, and I think a young +man of your er--er--" (he was going to say "prospects," but thought +that would not be politic), "well, a young man of your position should +see a little of the world." + +"My position is that of a farmer, sir, and few farmers can afford to +travel about and see the world." + +"Certainly not, certainly not; and for heaven's sake don't run away +with the idea that I can afford it any better than other poor vicars or +farmers; but knowing that you have a 100 pounds a year of your own, +Cardo, which, by the by, you never spend much of, and which I am glad +to hear you are already beginning to save up, I thought it well to +suggest to you a little holiday, a little break in your occupation." + +"Once for all, sir, I have no wish to travel, so do not trouble your +head about me; I am perfectly contented and happy." + +There was a moment's silence, except for the Vicar's tapping fingers, +and when he next spoke there was a little shake in his voice and a +little droop in his straight back. + +"Well," he said at length, "if that is the case, I need not expect you +to accede to my proposals. When a young man is contented and happy, it +is not to be expected he will alter his mode of life to please an old +man." + +"And that man his father! Indeed it is," said Cardo, standing up and +taking his favourite attitude, with his elbow on the mantelpiece. "Why +do you keep me at arm's length? Why do you not tell me plainly what I +can do for you, father? There is nothing I would not do, nothing I +would not sacrifice, that is--" and he made a mental reservation +concerning Valmai. + +"That is--nothing except what I am about to ask you, I suppose?" said +the old man. + +The words were not amiable. They might have angered another man; but +Cardo detected a tremor in the voice and an anxious look in the eyes +which softened their asperity. + +"What do you want me to do, sir?" + +"In plain words, I want you to go to Australia." + +"Australia!" gasped Cardo. "In heaven's name, what for, sir?" + +"I have often told you that some day I would wish you to go to +Australia, Cardo. If you cannot afford your own expenses, I will help +you In fact--er--er--I will place funds at your disposal which shall +enable you to travel like a gentleman, and to reap every advantage +which is supposed to accrue from travel and seeing the world." + +Cardo way speechless from astonishment, not so much at the idea of +banishment to the Antipodes--for his father had sometimes, though at +long intervals, hinted at this idea--but at the unusual coolness with +which he had alluded to such a lavish expenditure of money; and as he +looked at his father with an earnest, inquiring gaze, the old man +seemed to shrink under the scrutiny. + +At last, turning away from the table, and placing both hands on his +knees, he continued in an altered tone: + +"Sit down again, Cardo, and I will tell you the story of my life, and +then you shall tell me whether you will go to Australia or not." + +His son sat down again and listened eagerly. He had always longed to +hear something of his father's early life; he had always rebelled +against the cold barrier of mystery which seemed to enshroud him and +separate him from his only son. + +"Well, to begin at the beginning," said the Vicar, fixing his eyes on +one spot on the carpet, "there was a time when I was young--perhaps you +can hardly realise that," he said suddenly, looking up; "but strange as +it may seem to you, it is a fact. I once was young, and though never +so gay and light-hearted as you still I was happy in my own way, and +fool enough to expect that life had for me a store of joys and +pleasures, just as you do now. I was doomed, of course, to bitter +disappointment, just as you will be. Well, I had one trouble, and that +was the fear that I might be appointed to a curacy which would take me +away from my old home, and I was greatly relieved when I was appointed +to this living through the influence of an old friend of my father's. +When I entered upon my new duties, I found the old church filled with a +hearty and friendly congregation; but soon afterwards that Methodist +Chapel was built on the moor, and that rascal Essec Powell became its +minister, and from that day to this he has been a thorn in the flesh to +me. My father died about a year after I was ordained, and I found the +old house rather lonely with only Betto, who was then young, to look +after my domestic affairs. My farm I found a great solace. About this +time I met your mother, Agnes Powell. Her uncle and aunt had lately +come to live in the neighbourhood, accompanied by their daughter Ellen +and their niece--your mother. The two girls were said to be wealthy, +and seemed to be as much attached to each other as though they had been +sisters. I don't remember much about Ellen Vaughan's appearance, in +fact I scarcely noticed her, for I had fallen passionately in love with +Agnes Powell. Are you listening, Caradoc?" + +"Yes, indeed, sir," he said breathlessly, "I have thirsted for this +knowledge so long." + +"You have! well, then, listen. I loved your mother with a frantic mad +devotion, though I killed her." + +Cardo started. + +"Yes, I killed her; not by a cruel blow, or murderous attack, but quite +as surely and as cruelly. I told you I had not your gay and lively +disposition. I might have added that I was sensitive and suspicious to +an intense degree, and from my first acquaintance with your mother +until the day I married her, I was always restless and uneasy, hating +and fearing every man who approached her." + +He reached a glass of water which stood on the table, and, having drunk +some, looked again at his son. + +"You see, Caradoc, if I have withheld this information from you long, I +am telling you everything now. Just about this time my brother Lewis, +who had for some years been settled in Scotland to learn farming, came +home to Brynderyn, although I, being the elder son, was the owner of +the place. Lewis had a small annuity settled upon him. As I was on +the eve of being married, he was much interested in my affairs, and +spoke of his admiration of Agnes in such glowing terms, that I felt, +and, I fear, showed some resentment. However, as he was well +acquainted with my suspicious nature, he was not offended, but laughed +me out of my doubts for the time--for the time," he repeated, again +fixing his eyes on the spot on the carpet. "Bear in mind, Cardo, +through every word of this history, that the suspicion and mistrust of +my nature amounted almost to insanity. I see it now, and, thank God, +have conquered it in some measure. Well, we were married. Lewis was +my groomsman, and Ellen Vaughan was the bridesmaid. It was a very +quiet wedding, as Mrs. Vaughan was in very bad health--in fact, she +died soon after our marriage, and Agnes seemed to feel the loss of her +aunt so acutely that I was jealous and angry, and she saw that I was +so, and endeavoured to hide her tears, poor child! poor child! I don't +think her uncle ever liked me, or approved of our marriage. Happily he +had no control over Agnes's fortune, or I believe she would never have +had a penny of it; but I think he might have trusted me there, for I +have nursed it--yes and doubled it," he mumbled, as though forgetting +he was speaking to anyone but the carpet. "Well, let me see--where was +I?" + +"But my mother, sir?" interrupted Cardo; "tell me something about +her--was she pretty?" + +"Yes, she was beautiful, very lovely, with a foreign Spanish look in +her eyes--you have the same, I think, Cardo. There was a tradition of +Spanish blood in the family." + +"And had she a Spanish temper, sir? quick and hasty, I mean." + +"No, no, quite the contrary; a sweet and amiable temper, but certainly +with a good deal of pride, which resented a suspicion like a blow," and +the old man sighed heavily. "My brother Lewis made his home at +Brynderyn, while he was looking about for some suitable opening for his +farming operations, and here in the midst of my newly-found happiness, +with hope and love shedding their beams around me, I allowed the first +insidious entrance of the serpent of distrust and jealousy of my wife +into my heart. My brother Lewis was very unlike me in appearance and +disposition, being of a frank and genial manner, and trustful to a +fault. I think you inherit that trait from him; be careful of it, +Caradoc, or you will be cheated by every man you meet. Not that I +would have you follow my example--God forbid! but there is a happy +mean, a safe path between these two traits of character." + +The Vicar was beginning to enjoy the recital of his long past troubles, +and the thought flashed through his mind that he would have lightened +his burden had he sooner confided in his son. The conduct which seemed +so black and stained, when brooded over alone in his study, did not +seem quite so heinous when put into plain words and spread out in the +light. + +"Well," he continued, "in spite of my jealous temper, the first few +months of our wedded life were very happy, and it was not until I had +begun to notice that a very intimate friendship existed between my +young wife and my brother, that my suspicions were aroused with regard +to them; but once alive to this idea, every moment of my life was +poisoned by it. I kept a close but secret watch upon their actions, +and soon saw what I considered a certain proof that the love they felt +for each other was more than, and different to, that which the +relationship of brother and sister-in-law warranted. Betto noticed it, +too, for she has ever been faithful and true to me. She came to me one +day, and seriously advised me to get rid of my brother Lewis, refusing +to give any reason for her advice; but I required no explanation. You +say nothing, Caradoc, but sit there with a blacker look on your face +than I have ever seen before." + +"I am listening, father, and waiting for some excuse for your jealous +suspicions." + +"I have very little to give but you shall have the story in its naked +truth. I was devotedly attached to my brother; from childhood we had +been all in all to each other, and the difference in our dispositions +seemed only to cement more closely the bond of union between us; but +now my love seemed turned to hatred, and I only waited to make my fears +a certainty to turn him out of my house. Although I was anxious to +hide my suspicions for a time, I could not refrain from sneering taunts +about men who spent a life of idleness while others worked. Lewis +opened his blue eyes in astonishment, and his frank, open countenance +wore a hurt and puzzled look; but he did not go. He bore my insults, +and yet haunted the house, and lingered round the west parlour, now +shut up, but where your mother always sat. I found it impossible to +hide entirely from Agnes my doubts of her love, and I soon saw that my +involuntarily altered manner had made a corresponding change in hers. +The proud spirit within her was roused, and instead of endeavouring to +soothe my suspicions, and show me my mistake, she went on her way +apparently unheeding, holding her head high, and letting me form my own +opinion of her actions. I ought to have told you that her uncle had +been so annoyed at her marriage with me that he had forbidden her to +enter his doors again; and of this I was not sorry, though it roused my +anger so much that I added my injunctions to the effect that if she +wished to please me she would break off all acquaintance with her +cousin, Ellen Vaughan. This, however, she would not promise to do, and +it was the first beginning of the rift, which afterwards widened into a +chasm between us. Her cousin also was too much attached to her to be +easily alienated from her, and the two girls met more frequently than +either her uncle or I were aware of. There was another girl, too--I +forget her name--but she was a sister of Essec Powell's. Agnes and she +had been schoolmates and bosom friends, and they were delighted to meet +here by accident, and I soon found that my wife continually resorted to +Essec Powell's house to pour out her sorrows into the bosom of her +friend; but this I could not allow. To visit the house of my bitterest +enemy--to make a friend of his sister, was a glaring impropriety in a +clergyman's wife, and I cannot even now feel any compunction at having +put a stop to their intercourse--if, indeed, I succeeded in doing so. +A cold cloud seemed to have fallen between me and your mother; and as +for my brother, we scarcely spoke to each other at meals, and avoided +each other at all other times. Still Lewis stayed on, with that +puzzled look on his face, and still Agnes went through her daily duties +with a proud look and a constrained manner. + +"Poor Betto looked anxiously from one to the other of us, and I kept my +still and silent watch. My heart was breaking with distrust of my +wife, and hatred of my brother; but I never spoke of my failing trust +in them both. I brooded upon it night and day, and my life became a +hell upon earth. + +"One day in the early spring, about a month before you were born, +Caradoc, I had been to a funeral at the old church; and hearing of the +serious illness of a parishioner who lived on the high road to +Abersethin, I followed the path on the left side of the Berwen, and as +I neared the bridge which crosses the valley on the top, I suddenly +came upon Agnes, who was sitting on a boulder by the side of the brook, +and as I approached I saw her dry her eyes hurriedly. She rose from +her seat, and her colour came and went as she looked at me. I longed +to take her in my arms and press her to my heart, for she looked pale +and sorrowful." + +An exclamation from Cardo interrupted him. + +"It pains you, Caradoc--it pains me--it pained me then--it will pain me +as long as I have any being. I may be forgiven hereafter, but it +cannot cease to pain me. + +"'Agnes,' I said, 'are you not straying very far from home?' + +"'I came for a walk,' she answered; 'it is a lovely day!' + +"'I did not know you could walk so far,' I said. 'Last evening when I +asked you to come down to the shore with me, you said it was too far!' + +"'Yesterday, Meurig, I was feeling very ill; to-day I am better.' + +"Her lip quivered a little, and she looked round uneasily, I thought. + +"I said, 'I am going to see old Shôn Gweydd, or I would walk back with +you; but perhaps you don't mind going alone.' + +"'Oh, no, not at all,' she said, as she began her way back by the +Berwen. + +"I went my way with a heavy heart, and as I entered Shôn Gweydd's house +(it was a little way down the road) I looked back at the bridge, and +saw a girl cross the stile and go down into the valley. It was Ellen +Vaughan, and no doubt Agnes had been waiting for her; but when in +returning I met my brother Lewis coming over the same stile into the +high road, my whole soul was filled with anger, and I passed the +brother whom I had loved so tenderly with a short, cold remark about +the weather, and I reached Brynderyn consumed with jealousy and bitter +hatred. + +"The same evening, Agnes was sitting at her work at the bay window of +the west parlour, while I was busily writing in the old farm parlour +which we now use. Lewis entered with the strained and saddened look +which he had worn in my presence latterly; he reached a book from the +bookshelf, and sauntered in through the stone passage into the west +parlour. In a moment I had risen and followed him, and, walking +carefully on the carpet which covered it, then, reached the door of the +sitting-room without being heard, and through the chink of the +half-open door I saw my brother stoop down and whisper something +confidentially in my wife's ear. + +"I entered the room immediately afterwards, and Lewis made some casual +remark about the sunset, while Agnes went on quietly sewing. How to +endure my agony of mind I knew not, for I now felt convinced that my +doubts were warranted; but I was determined to control my feelings and +restrain any expression of anger until after the birth of her child, +which was fast approaching, as I still loved her too much to endanger +her health, and I knew that if once the floodgates of my anger were +opened the storm of passion would be beyond my control. + +"On the following Sunday Agnes came to church for the last time, and +after the service I went into the vestry to take off my gown; and as I +followed the stream of worshippers leaving the porch, I saw her joined +by Lewis, who walked with her towards the lych gate, and before I +reached them I distinctly saw him place a note in her hand. She +quickly put it in her pocket, and, with a friendly and satisfied nod, +he turned round to speak to a neighbouring farmer. + +"The blood surged through my veins"--and the old man rose from his +chair and stood before his son, who sat with his elbow on the table. +Unconsciously the Vicar seemed to take the position of a prisoner +before his judge; his hands were clenched nervously, and as he spoke he +drew his handkerchief over his damp face. + +"Yes," he said, "my blood surged through my veins, but even then I did +not speak a word of complaint or anger. Had I done so, I might have +been spared the years of anguish and remorse which have been my share +since then. + +"I walked home silently by my wife's side, forcing myself to make some +casual remark. She answered as coldly. And thus passed away our only +chance of explanation and reconciliation. You are silent, Caradoc; you +do not like to speak the condemnation and the contempt which you feel +for your father." + +"Father," said Cardo, "I feel nothing but pity for you and pity for my +poor mother. As for my uncle--" + +"Wait, wait, Cardo; let me finish my story. That was the last time +your mother came to church. In a short time afterwards you were born, +and during the intervening time I struggled harder than ever, not to +forgive, but to drop my wife entirely out of my life. I tried to +ignore her presence, to forget that she had ever been dear to me; but I +give you my word, Cardo, I _never_ spoke a harsh or accusing word to +her. I simply dropped her as far as possible out of my life; and she, +though growing paler and thinner each day, still held her head up +proudly; and while I seemed to ignore her presence--though, God knows, +not a look nor a movement escaped me--Lewis was incessant in his tender +attention to her. + +"I had loved my brother passionately, fondly, and the feeling of bitter +hatred which now took possession of me tore my very heart-strings, for, +in spite of my suspicious and jealous nature, I loved these two--my +wife and my brother--with an intensity few would have believed me +capable of. Have I made this plain to you, Cardo? At last one +evening, just at this time of the year, and at this hour of the day, +Betto brought you to me in her arms. She had tears on her face, and as +she looked down at her little white bundle, I noticed that a tear fell +on your little hand. I did not like it, Cardo; though I thought I was +perfectly indifferent to my child, I shrank from the sight of the tear +on your hand, and hoped it did not prognosticate evil for you. + +"Agnes was too ill to see me until the next day, when Betto said she +was calling for me. I rose and went at once; but on the stairs, coming +down to meet me, was a girl, whose face I recognised at once as that of +Essec Powell's sister. I felt great indignation at the sight, as Agnes +knew my intense dislike to the Methodist preacher, and, drawing back +for her to pass, I said, 'I did not expect to meet a stranger in my own +house at such a time, and I must beg that it may not happen again.' + +"The girl passed on, with an angry flush upon her face. Betto gently +drew me into an adjoining bedroom, and, with a troubled face, implored +me not to give way to angry feelings. 'Be gentle to her,' she said; +'poor thing, she's as frail as an eggshell. Wait till she is well, +master, and then--I pray God may bring some light out of this darkness.' + +"I only nodded, and went gently into the sickroom. Agnes was lying +propped up by pillows, her face almost as white as they. Her eyes were +closed, as she had not heard my careful footsteps. I looked at her +intently, while all sorts of thoughts and longings passed through my +mind. At last the intensity of my gaze seemed to awaken her, for she +opened her eyes, and for a moment there was a tremor on her lips. + +"'Meurig,' she said, and she put out her hand, which I took in mine. +Even while I held her hand I noticed on her bed a bunch of sweet +violets which I had seen Lewis gather in the morning.--'Meurig, why +have you been cold to me?' she asked, while her hand still lay in mine. +'If I have ever done anything to displease you, will you not forgive +me, and kiss your little child?' and she looked down at your little +head lying on her arm beside her. Oh, Caradoc, God alone knows the +tumult of feelings which overwhelmed me. I cannot describe them! I +stooped and kissed your little black head, and more, I stooped and +kissed her pale forehead. + +"'I forgive you,' I said. + +"'Is that all?' she said. + +"And as I hesitated, the old haughty flush rose to her forehead, and +turning her head on her pillow, she said, 'I am tired now, and want to +sleep.' + +"So I turned away and closed the door gently, and I never saw her alive +again, for that night she died suddenly. Swiftly the Angel of Death +came, _at her call_. I believe it, Caradoc, for Dr. Hughes who was +sent for hurriedly, declared he knew of no reason why she should not +have lived. + +"'I think she would have recovered, Wynne,' he said, 'had she wished +to; but where there is no wish to live sometimes the powers of life +fail, and the patient dies. Why she did not wish to live _I_ do not +know--perhaps _you_ do,' and my old friend turned from me with a +coldness in his manner, which has remained there ever since." + +The Vicar sank into his chair again, as if the memory of his early +trials had fatigued him, and Cardo, rising and approaching him, drew +his hand gently over his black hair besprinkled with white. His son's +tenderness seemed to reach the old man's heart. + +Burying his face in his hands he gulped down a sob before he continued: + +"Wait a minute, Cardo, you will not pity me when you have heard all my +story. With the earliest dawn I rushed out of the house, which seemed +to stifle me. I longed for the cool morning breezes, and God forgive +me, if I thought too with longing of the cool sandy reaches that lay +under the rippling waters of the bay! On the brow of the hill I met +Essec Powell, who was out early to see a sick cow, and there, while my +heart was sore to agony, and my brain was tortured to distraction, that +man reproached me and insolently dared to call me to account for 'my +inhuman conduct to my wife!' + +"'Ach y fi! What are you? he said, with his strong Welsh accent, 'are +you man or devil?' and he tore open the wounds which were already +galling me unbearably. 'You bring a young girl from a happy home, +where she was indulged and petted, and in a year's time you have broken +her spirit, and you will break her heart. Because her brute of an +uncle forbids his own daughter to go near her--my sister, her old +schoolfellow, goes to see her in her trouble, and you turn her out of +your house. I have longed for the opportunity of telling you what I +thought of you, and of what all the world thinks of you.' + +"I was a strong man, and he was a weak and shrivelled creature; I could +have tossed him over the rocks into the sea below. It required a very +strong effort to control my fury, but I did do so, and I turned away +without answering him, except by a cold, haughty look. I hated him, +Caradoc, and I have hated him ever since. He had not then heard of +Agnes's death, but the news flew fast through the neighbourhood, and I +knew I was everywhere looked upon as her murderer! + +"As I returned to my miserable home, I saw a man on horseback come out +at the back gate. It was one of Colonel Vaughan's servants. I +wondered what brought him there so early, but went in at the front gate +to avoid meeting him. The house was very silent with its drawn blinds. + +"When Betto came in with pale, tearful face, I asked her what had +brought Colonel Vaughan's servant there so early. + +"'A very strange thing, sir,' she said. 'He came to ask if Miss +Vaughan was here? Colonel Vaughan was in great distress--if you call +tearing about and swearing being in great distress--that was what Sam +said, sir--because Miss Vaughan is nowhere to be found. Dir anwl! a +strange thing, indeed, sir!' + +"I was too miserable to pay much attention to her gossip, and began my +breakfast alone, for Lewis had not appeared, and I dreaded to see him. +I had thought it strange that in the turmoil of the night before, with +the hurried footsteps and the arrival of the doctor's gig, my brother +had not been disturbed, and he was apparently still sleeping. I shall +never forget that long, long day. I thought my misery was beyond human +endurance; little did I think that ere night it would be increased +tenfold. + +"I had refused to leave this room, though Betto had done her best to +persuade me to eat the dinner which she had prepared She was always +quick to read my thoughts and understand my feelings. + +"'You would be quite as much alone in the parlour, sir, as you are +here;' she said, 'for I can see nothing of Mr. Lewis. Indeed, I have +been into his room, and I see he has not slept there last night,' and +she flung her apron over her head, and swayed backwards and forwards +crying 'Oh, anwl! beth na i!'[3] and she slowly and tremblingly drew a +note out of her pocket and handed it to me. 'Perhaps that will tell +you something, sir.' + +"'Where did you find this?' I said, + +"I found it on her bed after she died. Mr. Lewis had sent it by Madlen +the nurse.' + +"I tore the note open--I never dreamt it was dishonourable, neither do +I now--and read the words which began the awakening that was to come +with such force and bitterness. They were these: + +"'MY DEAR AGNES,--My warmest congratulations upon the birth of your +little one, and my deepest thanks for all your kindness to me and dear +Nellie. Without your help we should never have been united. Good-bye, +and may God grant us all a happy meeting at some future time. + +"'Your ever grateful and devoted friends, + +"'LEWIS WYNNE and ELLEN VAUGHAN.' + + +"I stared at the letter in a maze of troubled thought, the feeling +uppermost in my mind being 'too late! too late! gone for ever, my +beloved wife! and alienated from me for ever my little less loved +brother!' + +"'And this, sir,' said Betto, drawing another letter from her pocket, +'I found on Mr. Lewis's table. I think it is directed to you.' + +"I hastily tore that open also, and read words that I cannot even now +bring myself to repeat. They were too bitter in their tender +upbraiding, in their innocent ignorance of my suspicions. They spoke +of a love whose existence I had not guessed; of his devotion to Ellen +Vaughan, my wife's cousin; of his deep gratitude to Agnes for her +unfailing kindness to him and to his beloved Ellen; of his deep +distress at my evident dislike of him. + +"'What has come between us, Meurig?' he said. 'What has become of the +faithful love of so many years? Is it possible you have grudged me the +shelter of your roof and the food that I have eaten? I can scarcely +believe it, and yet I fear it is true. Enclosed I leave you a cheque +which will pay for anything I may have cost you; further than that I +can only thank you for your, I fear, unwilling hospitality, and pray +that some day we may meet, when this mysterious cloud, which I have +deplored so much, may have cleared away. + +"'When you read this, Ellen and I will have been married at St. +Jorwerth's Church at Caer Madoc, and shall, I hope, have sailed for +Australia, where you know I have long wished to go.' + +"'Betto,' I said, 'is she lying dead and still upstairs?' + +"'Yes, master, poor angel! still enough and white enough in her coffin! +Why, sir, why?' + +"'Because I wonder she does not come down and reproach us, for we have +been wronging her from beginning to end, Betto! These letters prove to +me that my brother--my beloved, innocent brother--was deeply in love +with her cousin, Ellen Vaughan, and she, in the tenderness of her +heart, helped to bring about their union, and was the means of +delivering the letters which they wrote to each other. They were +married this morning at Caer Madoc Church, and have probably already +sailed for Australia.' + +"Betto left me, sobbing bitterly. I think she has never forgiven +herself; neither can I forgive myself, Cardo. As the years went on, my +sorrow only deepened, and an intense longing arose in my heart for the +friendship of the brother who had been so much to me for so many years. +I wrote to him, Caradoc--a humble, penitent letter, beseeching his +forgiveness even as a man begs for his life. He has never answered my +letter. I know he is alive and thriving, as he writes sometimes to Dr. +Hughes; but to me he has never sent a message or even acknowledged my +letter, and I thirst for his forgiveness--I cannot die without it. + +"I have long cherished the thought that when you came to man's estate I +would send you to him. I would send the best of earthly treasure that +I possess--my only son--to plead for me, to explain for me, and to +bring back his love and forgiveness. Now, Cardo, will you go?" + +"I will, father," said Cardo, rising and placing his hand in his +father's. + +"And can you think over what I have told you and still retain a little +love and pity for your old father?" + +"Father, I feel nothing but the deepest sorrow and pity for you +both--father and mother. I don't know which is to be pitied most. +Thank you for telling me all this, it explains so much that has puzzled +me--it accounts for your sadness and gloom--and--and your apparent +coldness. I will go to Australia, and, please God, I will bring back +my uncle's love and forgiveness to you." + +"God bless you, my boy, and good-night." + +There was a warm hand-clasp, and Cardo left his father sitting by the +flickering candle, which had burnt down to its socket. + + + +[1] A blue mug containing a little over half a pint. + +[2] Dear sweetheart. + +[3] "Oh, dear! what shall I do?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE OLD REGISTER. + +The summer had passed, with all its charms of June roses and soft July +showers, with its sweet, long days of sunshine, and its soft, west +winds brine-laden, its flights of happy birds, and its full promise in +orchard and corn-field. + +Cardo and Valmai still haunted the woods by the Berwen, and walked +along its banks, or sat listening to its trickling music as it hastened +down to the sea; but there was a sadder look on both their faces. +Cardo had new lines about his mouth, and Valmai had a wistful look in +her blue eyes; both had an unaccountable premonition of something +sorrowful to come. + +"Oh, I am afraid of something," the girl had said one day, as she sat +beside her lover, throwing pebbles into the brook, "something worse +even than this terrible parting, which must come next month. What is +it, Cardo? What is hanging over us? Something that darkens the +sunlight and dims the moonlight to me? Are we parting for ever, do you +think?" + +"Nonsense, dearest," said Cardo cheerfully, though the little pucker +between his eyes seemed to speak of the same anxiety and fear. "Isn't +the separation which we must bear enough to account for all sorts of +fears and depressing thoughts? It is that only which dims the sunshine +to me, and makes me feel as if I were losing all the light and +happiness out of my life; but let us cast our fears to the wind, +Valmai, for a year will see all our troubles over; in a year's time I +shall have returned, bringing, I hope, reconciliation and love to my +dear old father--peace for his last days, Valmai. It is worth trying +for, is it not?" + +"Yes, yes; no doubt your presence will be more effectual than a letter." + +"He thinks, too," said Cardo, "that a little travel by land and sea +will brighten my life which he imagines must be so monotonous on this +lonely west coast. He doesn't know of the happy hours we spend here on +the banks of the Berwen, but when I return with loving greetings from +his brother, and, who knows, perhaps bringing that brother with me in +person, then, Valmai, while his heart is softened and tender, I will +tell him of our love, I will ask his consent to our marriage, and if he +refuses, then we must take our own way and be married without his +consent. There is the thatch house just above the mill already waiting +for us--it is my own, you know; and although old Sianco and his wife +don't make much of it, think how lovely you and I would make it. Think +of me sitting in the thatched porch behind those roses smoking, and you +looking out through those pretty little lattice windows under the +eaves." + +Valmai sighed and blushed. "Oh, what dreams, Cardo; I cannot reach so +far. My thoughts stop short at the long winter, when that glistening +sea will be tossing and frothing under the fierce north-west wind. Oh, +I know how it looks in the winter; and then to think that all that lies +between me and you. What a trouble has come upon us when all seemed so +bright and glorious." + +"Yes, I have brought sorrow and unrest into your peaceful life. Will +you give me up; will you break the bonds that are between us; and once +more be free and happy?" + +"Cardo," was all her answer, in a pained tone, as she placed her hand +in his, "what are you talking about?" + +"Nonsense, love, foolish nonsense. I know too well that nothing on +earth or heaven can break the bonds that bind us to each other. And +this terrible parting. I could bear it far more easily if you were +mine, my very own, my wife, Valmai. Then I should feel that nothing +could really part us. Can it not be? Can we not be married here +quietly in the old church, with none but the sea-breezes and the +brawling Berwen for company?" + +"And the old white owl to marry us, I suppose. Oh, Cardo, another +dream. No, no; wait until you return from that dreadful Australia, and +then--" + +"And then," said Cardo, "you will not say no." + +"No," said the girl, looking frankly into his eager face, "I will not +say no. But I must go; I am late. Shoni begins to ask me +suspiciously, 'Wherr you going again, Valmai?' I am sure we could not +go on much longer meeting here without his interference." + +"How dreadful to have Shoni's red hair and gaitered legs dogging our +footsteps in this fairy dell." + +"To whom does this sweet valley belong, Cardo? To you?" + +"To my father. If it ever comes into my possession, it will be so +guarded that no stray foot shall desecrate its paths." + +Cardo was not without hope of being able to overcome Valmai's +reluctance to be married before he left the country, and as he and +Gwynne Ellis returned one day from a sail he broached the subject to +his friend. + +"To-morrow will be the first of September," he said, as he watched the +bulging sail and the fluttering pennon against the blue sky. + +"Yes," answered Ellis, "I am sorry my holiday is coming to a close." + +"I don't see why you should leave, although I am obliged to go." + +"Oh, it will be quite time for me; everything jolly comes to an end +some time or other." + +"True," said Cardo, with a sigh. + +"Well, you heave a sigh, and you look as grave and solemn as any of +Essec Powell's congregation, and, upon my word, I don't see what you've +got to look so glum about. Here you are, engaged to the prettiest girl +in Wales; just going out for a year's travel and enjoyment before you +settle down as a married man in that idyllic thatched cottage up the +valley--a year to see the world in--and a devoted father (for he is +that, Cardo, in spite of his cold ways) waiting to greet you when you +come back. And Valmai Powell following every step you take with her +loving and longing thoughts. No, no, Cardo; you have nothing to pull +such a long face about. On the contrary, as I have said before, you +are a lucky dog." (Cardo grunted.) "Besides, you are not obliged to +go. It seems to me rather a quixotic affair altogether, and yet, by +Jove! there is something in it that appeals to the poetic side of my +nature. You will earn your father's undying gratitude, and in the +first gush of his happiness you will gain his consent to your marriage +with Valmai. Not a bad--rather a clever little programme." + +"Oh, it is all very well for you to talk like that, Ellis; but nothing +you say can lessen the bitterness of parting from Valmai. It is my own +wish to go, and nothing shall prevent me; but I could bear the +separation with much more fortitude if only--" + +And he stopped and looked landwards, where the indistinct grey blur was +beginning to take the pattern of fields and cliffs and beach. + +"If what?" said Ellis, shifting the sail a little. + +"If only I were married to Valmai." + +"Phew! what next?" said Ellis, "married! Cardo Wynne, you are bringing +things to a climax. My dear fellow, it would be far harder to part +from a wife of a week than from a sweetheart of a year. That's my idea +of wedded bliss, you see." + +"Nonsense; it would not!" said Cardo. "It would give me a sense of +security--a feeling that, come fair or come foul, nothing could really +come between me and Valmai; and besides, I should not want her to be +the wife of a week--I should be satisfied to be married even on the +morning of my departure. Come, Ellis, be my friend in this matter. +You promised when I first told you of my love for Valmai that you would +help us out of our difficulties. You are an ordained priest; can you +not marry us in the old church on the morning of the 14th? You know +the _Burrawalla_ sails on the 15th, and I go down to Fordsea the day +before, but not till noon. Can you not marry us in the morning?" + +"Has Valmai consented?" asked Ellis, sinking down in the prow of the +boat and looking seriously at his companion. + +"I--I--have not pressed the question, but if she agrees, will you do +it?" + +"Do it? My dear fellow, you talk as if it were a very simple affair. +Do it, indeed! Where are the banns?" + +"I would buy a license." + +"And the ring?" + +"At Caer Madoc." And Cardo began to look in deadly earnest. + +"And what about the witnesses?" + +"I have even thought of that. Are not your two friends, Wilson and +Chester, coming to Abersethin next week?" + +"So they are," said Ellis, "to stay until I leave. The very thing. +They will be delighted with such a romantic little affair. But, Cardo, +how about my duty to your father, who has been a very kind friend to +me?" + +"Well," said Cardo, "shall you be doing me an unkindness or the reverse +when you make Valmai my wife? Is she not all that a woman can be? has +she not every virtue and grace--" + +"Oh, stop, my dear fellow! don't trouble to go through the inventory. +I'll allow you at once she is perfect in mind, body, and soul--and the +man to whom I marry her will owe me an eternal debt of gratitude!" + +"True, indeed!" said Cardo, beginning energetically to lower the sails, +and guide the boat safely to shore. + +He said no more, until, after a tramp over the beach, both buried in +their own thoughts, they drew near the path to Brynderyn. + +"You will help me, then, at the old church on the morning of the +fourteenth?" + +"I will," said Ellis. + +Before that morning arrived, Cardo had won from Valmai a frightened and +half-reluctant consent. + +She was no longer a child, but seemed to have matured suddenly into a +woman of calm and reflective character, as well as of deep and tender +feeling. + +To be married thus hurriedly and secretly! How different to the +beautiful event which she had sometimes pictured for herself! Where +was the long, white veil? Where were the white-robed bridesmaids? +Where were the smiling friends to look on and to bless? There would be +none of these indeed, but then--there would be Cardo! to encourage and +sustain her--to call her wife! and to entrust his happiness to her. +Yes, she would marry him; she would be true to him--neither life nor +death should shake her constancy--no power should draw from her lips +the sweet secret of their marriage, for Cardo had said, "It must be a +secret between us, love, until I return and tell my father myself--can +you promise that, Valmai?" and with simple earnestness she had placed +her hand in his, saying, "I promise, Cardo." And well might he put his +trust in her, for, having given that word of promise, no one who knew +her (they were very few) could doubt that she would keep it both in the +letter and in the spirit. + +The morning of the fourteenth dawned bright and clear, but as Cardo +threw up his window and looked over the shining waters of the bay he +saw that on the horizon gray streaky clouds were rising, and spreading +fan-like upwards from one point, denoting to his long-accustomed eye +that a storm was brewing. + +"Well! it is September," he thought, "and we must expect gales." + +He dressed hurriedly though carefully, and was soon walking with +springy step across the beach, and up the valley to the old church. He +cast a nervous glance towards Dinas, wondering whether Valmai would +remember her promise--fearing lest she might have overslept +herself--that Essec Powell or Shoni might have discovered her +intentions and prevented their fulfilment; perhaps even she might be +shut up in one of the rooms in that gaunt, grey house! Nothing was too +unreasonable or unlikely for his fears, and as he approached the church +he was firmly convinced that something had happened to frustrate his +hopes; nobody was in sight, the Berwen brawled on its way, the birds +sang the ivy on the old church tower glistened in the sunshine, and the +sea-gulls sailed overhead as usual. + +It had been decided the night before that Gwynne Ellis should leave the +house alone at his usual early hour, and that his friends should come +by the high road from Abersethin, and down by the river-path to the +church. They were not to stand outside, but to enter the church at +once, to avoid any possible observation; but in spite of this prior +arrangement Cardo wondered why no one appeared. + +"Can Gwynne Ellis be late? or those confounded fellows from Abersethin +have forgotten all about it, probably? It's the way of the world!" + +As he crossed the stepping-stones to the church he felt sure there +would be no wedding, and that he would have to depart at midday still a +bachelor, leaving Valmai to all sorts of dangers and trials! + +When he entered the porch, however, and pushed open the door of the +church, in the cool green light inside, he found his three friends +waiting for him. + +"I wonder why she doesn't come," he said, turning back to look up the +winding path through the wood; "it's quite time." + +"Yes, it is quite time," said Ellis. "I will go and put on my +surplice. You three can sit in that ricketty front pew, or range +yourselves at the altar rail, in fact--there she is coming down the +path, you won't be kept long in suspense." + +And as the three young men stood waiting with their eyes fixed upon the +doorway, Valmai appeared, looking very pale and nervous. Gwynne Ellis +had already walked up the church, and was standing inside the broken +altar rails. Valmai had never felt so lonely and deserted. Alone +amongst these strangers, father! mother! old friends all crowded into +her mind; but the memory of them only seemed to accentuate their +absence at this important time of her life! She almost failed as she +walked up with faltering step, but a glance at Cardo's sympathetic, +beaming face restored her courage, and as she took her place by his +side she regained her composure. Before the simple, impressive service +was over she was quite herself again, and when Cardo took her hand in +his in a warm clasp, she returned the pressure with a loving smile of +confidence and trust, and received the congratulations of Gwynne Ellis +and his two friends with a smiling though blushing face. + +The two strangers, never having seen her before, were much struck by +her beauty; and indeed she had never looked more lovely. She wore one +of her simple white frocks, and the white hat which had been her best +during the summer, adorned only with a wreath of freshly gathered +jessamine, a bunch of which was also fastened at her neck. With the +addition of a pair of white gloves which Cardo had procured for her, +she looked every inch a bride. She wore no ornament save the wedding +ring which now glistened on her finger. + +"Let us do everything in order," said Ellis. "Take your wife down to +the vestry." + +Cardo drew her hand through his arm, and at the word "wife," pressed it +gently to his side, looking smilingly down at the blushing face beside +him. When they reached the vestry, whose outer wall in the old tower +was lying crumbling on the grass outside, while the two young men +chatted freely with the bride and bridegroom, they were joined by +Gwynne Ellis, carrying an old and time-worn book under his arm. + +Cardo gasped, "I never thought of the register; it is kept in the new +church! Is it absolutely necessary, Ellis? What shall we do? What +have you there?" + +"Why, the old register, of course! I furraged it out last night from +that old iron chest inside the altar rails. There is another there, +going back to the last century, I should think. I must have a look at +them; they will be interesting." + +"Ellis, you are a friend in need," said Cardo. "I had never thought of +this part of the ceremony." + +"No, be thankful you had a cool and collected head to guide you. See, +here is a blank space at the bottom of one of these musty pages. It +won't be at all _en règle_ to insert your marriage here; but I dare not +bring the new register out of the other church; moreover, there may be +another wedding soon, and then yours would be discovered." + +"What a genius you are!" said Cardo, while Gwynne Ellis wrote out in +bold, black characters, under the faded old writing on the rest of the +page, the certificate of Cardo and Valmai'a marriage. + +"There, you have tied a knot with your tongue that you can't untie with +your teeth! Here is your marriage certificate, Mrs. Wynne. I need not +tell you to keep it safely." + +Suddenly there was a rustling sound above them, which startled them +all, and Cardo grasped Valmai hastily, to the great amusement of the +young men. + +It was the white owl, who had solemnly watched the proceedings in the +vestry, and now thought it time to take her flight through the broken +wall. "There Cardo," said Valmai, "I said the white owl would be at +our wedding, and the sea breeze, and the Berwen; I heard them both +while you were writing your name." + +"Well now," said Gwynne Ellis, "Wilson, Chester, and I will leave you +both, as I know what a short time you will have together." + +And with many congratulations and good wishes, the three young men left +the old church, leaving Cardo and Valmai to their last words before +parting. + +There was a ricketty, worm-eaten bench in the vestry, and here they sat +down together. Cardo trying to keep up a cheerful demeanour, as he saw +her face sadden and her eyes fill with tears. + +"How lovely you look, my darling," he said. "How did you manage to +escape Shoni's shrewd eyes in such finery?" + +"I put my scarlet cloak on and drew the hood over my head, and it +tumbled my hair," she said, with a little wan smile. Already the +glamour of the wedding was giving way to the sorrow of parting. "I had +my hat under my cloak. Oh, anwl! I am getting quite a deceitful girl!" + +Cardo winced; was he sullying the pure soul? But there was no time for +retrospection, the minutes were fleeting rapidly by, he had to return +to his breakfast with his father, who would expect his last hours to be +spent with him. + +"When do you start from Brynderyn?" she asked, her voice growing lower +and more sorrowful. + +"At two o'clock, love, punctually; the cart has already gone with my +luggage. Valmai, how can I part from you--how can I leave you, my +beloved, my wife?" + +"Oh, Cardo, Cardo!" was all her answer. She buried her face in her +hands, and the tears trickled through her fingers. + +Cardo drew them away tenderly. + +"There is a tear on your ring, dear," he said, kissing it, "that must +not be; let that at all events be the emblem of meeting and happiness +and joy. Think, Valmai, only a year, and I shall come and claim you +for my own! Confess, dearest, that it is a little solace that we are +united before we are parted, that, whatever happens, you are my wife +and I am your husband." + +"Yes, indeed; indeed, it is my only solace, and I am going to be brave +and hopeful. My ring I must not wear on my finger; but see, I have +brought a white satin ribbon to tie it round my neck; it shall always +be there until you take it off, and place it on my finger again." + +"And you will keep our secret until I return, darling?" + +"Yes," said Valmai impressively, "_until you come back, Cardo, and give +me leave to reveal it_." + +"We must part, fanwylyd; my father must not miss me." + +"No, no--go, I will not keep you back." + +There was a long, passionate embrace, during which the white owl +flapped in again to her nest. + +"Good-bye and good-bye, darling, and farewell until we meet again." + +"Leave me here, Cardo. Good-bye, dearest husband!" + +And so they parted, and, in the memory of both, for many a long year +the sound of the Berwen held a place, and the flap of the white owl's +wings brought back to Valmai memories of pain and happiness, mixed +together in a strange tumult. Slowly she made her way up the path to +Dinas, the scarlet cloak was taken out from the bush under which it had +been hidden, and, enveloped in its folds, she entered the house. Going +up to her own room, she took off the sacred wedding dress, and, folding +it carefully, laid it away with its bunch of jessamine, while she +donned another much like it, but of a warmer material, for she loved +white, and seldom appeared in a coloured dress. + +With Cardo the hours slipped by quickly. His father had many last +directions to give him, and Betto had endless explanations to make. + +"You will find your gloves in your pocket, Mr. Cardo, and your clean +handkerchiefs are in the leather portmanteau; but only six are by +themselves in the little black bag." + +Gwynne Ellis had accompanied his friends to their lodgings at +Abersethin, and after breakfast returned to Brynderyn; they had all +been charmed with the bride's appearance. + +"By Jove! Ellis," Chester had said, "I think I envy that Wynne in spite +of the parting. I have never seen such a lovely bride!" + +"Any more pearls of the sort to be found in this out-of-the-way place?" +asked Wilson. + +"No, I have seen none," said Ellis; "and I doubt if you will find one +anywhere," for he was an enthusiastic admirer of Valmai. + +"I have quite enjoyed the part we have taken in this romantic little +affair--eh, Wilson?" + +"Ra--ther!" he replied. + +"But don't forget it is to be a dead secret," said Ellis, as he left +the door. + +"Oh! honour bright!" + +At two o'clock punctually Cardo and his father seated themselves in the +light gig, which was the only carriage the Vicar affected, and when +Betto had bid him a tearful good-bye, with all the farm-servants +bobbing in the background, Gwynne Ellis, grasping his hand with a warm +pressure, said: + +"Good-bye, Wynne, and God bless you! I shall look forward with great +pleasure to meeting you again when you return from Australia. I shall +stay here a week or two at your father's invitation." + +"Yes," said the Vicar, in a wonderfully softened tone, "it would be too +trying to have the house emptied at one blow." + +As they drove along the high road together and crossed the little +bridge over the Berwen Valley, the Vicar, pointing with his whip, drew +Cardo's attention to the stile beside the bridge. + +"This is the stile which I saw Ellen Vaughan crossing the day I met +your mother waiting for her. I met my brother afterwards, and oh! how +blinded I was! But there, a man who is carried away by his passions is +like a runaway horse, which, they say, becomes blind in the eagerness +of his flight." + +It was needless to call Cardo's attention to the stile. His first +meeting with Valmai was so intimately connected with it; and as he +crossed the bridge, he called to mind how they had shared their +gingerbread under the light of the moon. + +"Perhaps you never noticed there was a stile there?" said the Vicar. + +"Yes," said Cardo, turning round to take a last look at it and the +bridge, and--was it fancy, or did he see something waving in the wind? + +For a moment he laid his hand on the reins with the idea of running +back to see, but "Jim" was fresh, and, resenting the check, swerved +uncomfortably aside. + +"Let him go," said the Vicar. "What do you want?" + +"Nothing, sir. For a moment I thought I would go back and take a last +look at the valley; but never mind, let us go on. How black it looks +in front!" + +"A storm rising, I think," said his father. + +"Yes. There will be a gale from the north-west; we shall catch it on +the _Burrawalla_, I expect. Well, I have often wished to see a storm +at sea." + +His father did not answer, but looked gloomily on at the gathering +darkness in front. He was full of fears for his son's safety, but it +was not his nature to speak openly of any tender feelings. His late +confession, although it had comforted and soothed him, was yet a +mystery to himself, and he thought of it with a kind of awkward +surprise and something like resentment. He was, however, unusually +talkative and even gentle as they drove on together. When at last he +had seen Cardo fairly off in the coach, with his luggage piled on the +top, he turned homewards with a heavy foreboding at his heart. + +Should he ever see his son again? Had he sent him from his native land +to be lost to him for ever? And how willingly he had given in to his +father's wishes! But, certainly there was nothing to attract him to +his home--nothing but his love for a surly old father! + +"A fine fellow!" he soliloquised, with a side jerk of his head. "A +fine fellow! a son to be proud of!" + +And when Gwynne Ellis joined him at tea, they vied with each other in +their praises of Cardo's character. + +If Cardo had followed his impulse and returned to look over the stile, +he would have found on the mossy hedge inside a little white heap of +misery. For Valmai, who had watched for an hour to catch a last +glimpse of him, had been frightened when she saw the "Vicare du" +looking towards the stile, and evidently drawing Cardo's attention to +it; she had shrunk back until they had passed, and then standing on the +hedge, had waved a last good-bye, and immediately afterwards slipped +down in an abandonment of grief. She remained for some time sobbing +and moaning on the grass, until at last her passion of tears subsided. +Almost suddenly growing calmer, she stood up, and, not attempting to +dry her eyes, let the tears roll slowly down her cheeks. She clasped +her hands, and tried to steady her voice as, looking up at the flying +clouds above her, she spoke words of encouragement to herself. +"Valmai," she said, "you must learn to bear your sorrow in silence; you +are no longer a girl--you are a wife! and you must be a brave and good +woman!" + +For a moment she continued to look steadily up at the clouds and beyond +them into the depths of blue sky which showed here and there between +the storm rifts, then she quietly put on her hat and returned down the +well-known path to the river, and with steady, set face and firm step +made her way homeward. + +When her uncle appeared at the tea-table, he carried two large books +under his arm, and when the meal was over the lamp was lighted and the +red curtains drawn. Up here on the cliffs the wind was already blowing +furiously; it roared in the chimneys, and found its way in through +every chink in the badly-fitting windows. + +"Now, let me see--chap. xii.--Valmai, have you found it? St. Antwn's +sermon to the fishes," and he settled himself in his usual position, +with legs crossed, head thrown back, listening with evident pleasure, +while Valmai read and read, her thoughts defying control, and for ever +following Cardo on his journey. + +"Oh, how the wind is shrieking, uncle; it is like a human creature in +pain!" + +"Wind?" said the old man, looking with dreamy eyes at the girl so full +of hopes and fears--"storm? Well, it does blow a little, but it's +nothing. Go on, Valmai, you are not reading so good as usual," and +once more she applied herself to the page, and endeavoured to keep her +thoughts from roaming. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +REUBEN STREET. + +All night the storm increased in violence, blowing straight from the +north-west with an incessant fury which tossed and tore the waters of +the bay. Against the black cliffs the foaming waves hurled themselves +like fierce animals leaping up to reach their prey, but the adamant +rocks, which had defied their rage for centuries, still stood firm, and +flung them back panting and foaming into the swirling depths below, to +rise again with ever-increasing strength, until the showers of spray +reached up even to the grassy slopes on which the sheep huddled +together. + +Valmai had lain with wide-open eyes through the long hours of the +night, listening with a shrinking fear to every fresh gust which +threatened to sweep the old house away. No raging storm or shrieking +wind had ever before done more than rouse her for a moment from the +sound sleep of youth, to turn on her pillow and fall asleep again; but +to-night she could not rest, she was unnerved by the strain and +excitement of the day, and felt like some wandering, shivering creature +whose every nerve was exposed to the anger of the elements. When at +last it was time to rise and prepare her uncle's breakfast, she felt +beaten and weary, and looked so pale and hollow-eyed, that Shoni, who +was fighting his way in at the back door as she appeared, exclaimed in +astonishment. + +"What's the matter with you, Valmai? You bin out in the storm all +night?" + +"Almost as bad, indeed, Shoni; there's a dreadful wind it is." + +"Oh, 'tis not come to the worst yet," said Shoni. + +The doors continued to bang and the windows to rattle all through that +day and the greater part of the next, and it was not till the evening +of the third day that Valmai ventured to put on her cloak and pay a +visit to Nance's cottage. The tide was low as she crossed the Rock +Bridge, and there was no danger, therefore, from the waves. On her +return she recalled the events of the last storm, when Cardo's strong +arm had saved her from death. + +Her eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered a little as she +remembered that night; but she set herself bravely to struggle with her +sorrow, and to look forward with hope and joy to the future. + +When she entered the little parlour, which her neat fingers had +transformed into a nest of cosy comfort, she found her uncle standing +at the table, looking dazed and helpless. + +"Oh, Valmai!" he said, "here's a letter from John, my brother, and +indeed I don't know what am I to do." + +"What is the matter, uncle? Is he ill?" + +"Yes, he is very ill. He has broke his leg, and he got no one to look +after his house; and he is asking will you go down to take care of him. +Will you go, Valmai? He got lot of money. I will drive you down to +Caer Madoc to the coach. That will take you to the station to meet the +train, and you will be in Fordsea by four o'clock to-morrow." + +Fordsea! What visions crowded round the name. Cardo had been there so +lately, and now where was he? Out on that stormy sea, every moment +increasing the distance between them. + +"I will go if you like, uncle, and nurse him until he gets well." + +"There's a good gel, indeed; and you will kom back to me again, 'cos I +am used to you now, and you are reading very nice to me, and saving a +great deal of my old eyes. He got a servant," he added, "but she is +only an ole ooman, coming in in the morning and going home in the +evening." + +"Oh, yes, I will manage very well," said Valmai. + +She grasped at the idea of change of scene and life, hoping it would +help her to regain her peace of mind. So the next day saw her on her +way to Caer Madoc, driven by her uncle in the rickety old gig which had +carried him on his preaching expeditions for years. Along the high +road Malen bore them at a steady trot, and when Valmai took her place +in the coach, and bid her uncle good-bye, she called to mind that only +two days ago Cardo had been its occupant, and her heart was full of +wistful longings. Yes, she felt she was a foolish girl, but she was +always intending to grow into a sensible and useful _wife_; and, with +this virtuous intention in her mind, she tried to banish all vain +regrets, and a serious, composed little look came over her mouth. + +Arrived at Fordsea, she sought for her uncle's house, it was in Reuben +Street, she knew, and not far from the docks. Reaching the roadway, +she caught sight of the foaming white waves in the harbour, and +wondered how far the _Burrawalla_ had already got on her way towards +the Antipodes. + +"Captain Powell of _The Thisbe_?" said a lounging sailor who was +passing, with his hands in his pockets and his cap very much at the +back of his head. "Yes, miss, Aye knows him well. It's not far from +here, and Ay'll be passing his door. Will Aye carry your bag?" + +And, not waiting for an answer, he hoisted it on his shoulder, and +signed to her to follow him. He was right; she had not far to go +before she reached the little, uneven row of houses called Reuben +Street, at one of which an old woman, with bucket and cloth, was +preparing to wash the doorstep. + +"Here's the young leddy come," said the sailor, pushing the portmanteau +into the passage. + +"Will I pay you something?" said Valmai, nervously fingering her purse. + +"Aw naw, nawthin' at all," said the sailor, hurrying away, with a flush +on his face that showed her her hesitation had not been unwarranted. + +In fact, Jim Harris considered himself a "friend of the family," and +had gone to the station with the express intention of meeting the +"young leddy." Having for years sailed under Captain Powell, he still +haunted his house whenever he was on dry land. Every morning he went +in to shave him, and in the evening he mixed his toddy for him and made +him comfortable for the night, expecting and receiving no more than the +friendship and grateful thanks of the old man who had, not so long ago, +been his captain. Having deposited the portmanteau, Valmai had +scarcely time to thank him before he had slouched away with a polite +touch of his cap. + +"My uncle lives here? Captain Powell." + +"Yes, miss, and thank the Lord you've come, for Ay've bin ewt on the +road looking for you twenty taimes to-day, though Ay towld him you +couldn't come afore the train. There he is, knocking again. You go up +to him, miss, that's all he wants. Ay'll bring your bag up, honey. +There's your room, raight a-top of the stayurs; and there's your +uncle's door on the first landing. Ye'll hear him grumbling." And, +following these instructions, Valmai knocked at the first door she came +to. + +"Come in, and be tarnished to you," said an extraordinarily gruff +voice; and, almost before she had time to enter the room, a heavy book +came flying at her. Fortunately, it missed its aim, and she stood for +a moment irresolute at the door, while her uncle, without looking at +her, continued to rail at his much-enduring domestic, whom he was +accustomed to manage by swearing at and flattering in turns. His voice +was a guttural rumbling, which seemed to come from some cavernous +bronchial depths. + +"Ain't the little gel come yet?" + +"Uncle, here I am," said Valmai, approaching the bed with a frightened +look, though she tried to put on a placid smile. + +The shaggy head turned on its pillow. + +"Hello and so you are; in spite of that old witch saying for the last +hour that you couldn't 'acome yet. Come here, my beauty, and shake +hands with your old uncle. Ay've got one hand, you see, to shake with +you." + +"Yes, uncle, and to throw books at me when I come in." + +There was a low, gurgling laugh, which deepened the colour in the old +man's face so much that Valmai, fearing he was going to have a fit, +hastened to say something quiet and calming. + +"I came as soon as I could, uncle. We were so sorry to hear of your +accident. How did it happen?" + +"The Lord knows, my dear, Ay don't, for Ay've walked up that street +four or five times every day the last faive years, and never done such +a thing afore. But there--" and he began to gurgle again, to Valmai's +horror, "there must always be a beginning to everything, so Ay slipped +on a d--d stone, somehow or other, and, being no light weight, broke my +leg, and sprained my wrist into the bargain. Take off your things, may +dear. Are you up for nursing an old man till he's well again?" + +"Indeed, I'll do my best, whatever," said Valmai, taking off her hat +and cloak. "Uncle Essec said I was to stay until you were quite well." + +"That's raight. Ay knew you'd come, my gel, though that old devil +wanted me to think that perhaps you wouldn't. 'She'll come,' ay sez, +'and if she's like her father she'll come almost afore she's asked.' +So ready, he was; and so kind. And how's old Essec? Got his nose +buried in them mouldy books same as ever?" + +"Just the same," said Valmai. "Shall I take my things to my own room?" + +"Yes, may dear. It's the little room a-top of this. Where's that old +hag now? She ought to be here to show you your room," and reaching a +heavy stick, which stood by his bedside, he knocked impatiently on the +bare boarded floor, calling Mrs. Finch! Mrs. Finch! so loudly at the +same time, that Valmai seriously feared he would burst a blood vessel. + +"Deaf as a post," he said, gasping. + +"Leave it to me, uncle; don't tire yourself. She has shown me my room, +and there she is taking my bag up. Now, see how quickly I'll be back, +and bring you a nice cup of tea, and one for myself in the bargain, for +I am famishing," and she left the room with a cheerful nod towards the +old man. + +"Bless her purty face!" said the rumbling voice when the door was +closed. "Ay don't want her cup o' tea! Never could bear the slosh, +but Ay'm blest if Ay won't drink it to the dregs to please her." + +In a very short time Valmai returned, carrying a tray laid out neatly +with tea-things for two; and, drawing a little round table towards the +bed, placed the tray upon it, while Mrs. Finch brought in some slices +of cold ham. + +"There, you see," said Valmai, "I'm making myself quite at home. I +asked Mrs. Finch for that ham." + +"Of course you did, may dear! Didn't Ay tell you, you old addlepate," +he said, turning to poor Mrs. Finch, whose only desire seemed to be to +find a place for the ham and get out of the room--"didn't Ay tell you +the lil gel would come?" + +"Iss you did--many taimes to-day," said Mrs. Finch, while the old man +fumbled about for another book to throw after her. + +Valmai laughed, but chided gently; + +"Oh, poor old thing, uncle! She flew about like lightning to get the +tea ready. Now, here's a lovely cup of tea!" + +"Ah! It do smell beautiful!" And he allowed himself to be raised up +on his pillow, while he drank the tea down at a gulp. + +"Bravo! uncle," said Valmai; "ready for another?" + +"Another! Oh, dash it, no; one's enough, may dear. 'Twas very naice +and refreshing. Now you have your tea, and let me look at you." + +And as Valmai partook of her tea and bread and butter and ham, even his +hospitable feelings were satisfied. + +"Now I'm going to ring for Mrs. Finch to take these things away, uncle; +no more books, mind!" + +"No, no," he said, laughing; "she's had four to-day, and a pair of +slippers, and that'll do for one day. After all, she's a good ole +sole! though why sole more than whiting or mackerel Ay never could make +ewt. She knows me and my ways, may dear, and Ay pay her well. Eight +shillings a week regular! and she only comes at ten and leaves at +faive. Oh! bless you, _she_ knows when she's well off, or she wouldn't +put up with the books and slippers. Ay know 'em!" he added, with a +shrewd wink, which set Valmai laughing again. When Mrs. Finch came in +for the tray he was quite amiable. "Well, ole gel," he said, "this is +the night for your wages, isn't it?" + +"Iss, sir," said the woman, with a sniff and a bob curtsey. + +"There's my purse. Count it out to her, may dear. Eight shillings, +every penny, and there's a shilling overhead for good luck, Mrs. Finch, +becos the lil gel has come to manage the ship for us. Now remember, +she's capting now and you're the mate." + +"Iss, sir, and thank you," said Mrs. Finch, disappearing with practised +celerity through the doorway. + +And so Valmai took her place at once as "captain" of her uncle's house, +and, in spite of his gruff ways and his tremendous voice, she felt more +at home with him than with Essec Powell, for here her presence was +valued, and she felt sure that she had a place in the old man's warm +heart. + +She slept heavily through the next night, and in the morning awoke +refreshed, and with a feeling of brightness and cheerfulness which she +had not expected to feel so soon. Her new life would give her plenty +to do, to fill up every hour and to drive out all useless regrets and +repinings. + +Deep in her heart lay the one unsatisfied longing. Nothing could alter +that; nothing could heal the wound that Cardo's departure had made +except the anticipation of his return. Yes, that day would come! and +until then she would bear her sorrow with a brave heart and smiling +face. The weather continued rough and stormy, and, looking out from +her bedroom window, the grey skies and windswept streets made no +cheerful impression upon her. The people, the hurrying footsteps, and +the curious Pembrokeshire accent, gave her the impression of having +travelled to a foreign country, all was so different to the peaceful +seclusion of the Berwen banks. It was a "horrid dull town," she +thought and with the consciousness of the angry white harbour which she +had caught sight of on her arrival, her heart sank within her; but she +bravely determined to put a good face on her sorrow. On the second +morning after her arrival she was sitting on the window-seat in her +uncle's room, and reading to him out of the newspaper, when the bang of +the front door and a quick step on the stair announced the doctor's +arrival. + +"Well, captain," he said, "and how is the leg getting on?" + +He was a bright, breezy-looking man, who gave one the impression of +being a great deal in the open air, and mixing much with the +"sailoring." Indeed, he was rather nautical in his dress and +appearance. + +"You have a nurse, I see," he added, looking at Valmai with a shrewd, +pleasant glance. + +"Yes," said the captain, "nurse and housekeeper in one. She is may +niece, poor Robert's daughter, you know." + +"Ah! to be sure," said the doctor, shaking hands with her. "He went +out as a missionary, didn't he?" + +"Yes, to Patagonia, more fool he," said the captain. "Leaving his +country for the sake of them niggers, as if there wasn't plenty of +sinners in Wales for him to preach to. But there, he was a good man, +and Ay'm a bad 'un," and he laughed, as though very well satisfied with +this state of affairs. + +"Have you heard the news?" said the doctor, while he examined the +splints of the broken leg. + +"No, what is it?" rumbled the captain. + +"Why, the _Burrawalla_ has put back for repairs, Just seen her tugged +in--good deal damaged; they say, a collision with the steam-ship, +_Ariadne_. + +"By gosh! that's bad. That's the first accident that's ever happened +to Captain Owen, and he's been sailing the last thirty years to my +knowledge. Well, Ay'm tarnished, but Ay'm sorry." + +"Always stops with you?" inquired the doctor. + +"Yes, has all his life. There's the little back parlour and the +bedroom behind it always kept for him." + +"Well, you are going on very nicely. Now for the wrist." + +The captain winced a little and swore a good deal while his wrist was +under manipulation. It evidently pained him more than the broken leg. + +"What the blazes are your about, doctor? Leave it alone--do." + +"Come, come, now that's all over. You must mind and keep it very +quiet. No shying of books and things, remember. Well, good-bye; come +and see you again to-morrow. I daresay you'll see Captain Owen by and +by. Good-bye, my dear," turning to Valmai, "take care of your uncle." +And like a gust of wind he ran down the stairs, banged the front door, +and was gone. + +Valmai had dropped her paper and listened breathlessly to his +communications, and she was sitting, pale and silent, as a tumult of +exciting thoughts rushed into her mind. + +"The _Burrawalla_ come back! damaged! a collision! And Cardo, where +was he? Was it possible that the dull grey town contained her lover?" + +"Well, to be sure, here's a pretty kettle of fish," said her uncle, +using strong compulsion to adapt his words to the squeamishness of a +"lil gel." "Here's the _Burrawalla_, Valmai, put back for repairs, may +friend Captain Owen's ship, you know. Sech a thing has never happened +afore. You'll have to put his rooms ready, may dear, and laight a +fayer by 'm by, for he's sure to be here to-night. You'll look after +him, won't you?" + +"Yes, uncle, I'll do my best, whatever. I had better go and get his +sheets aired at once." And she left the room, glad to hide her pale +face and trembling hands from her uncle. + +Once outside the bedroom door, she crossed her hands on her bosom, as +though to stop the tumultuous beating of her heart. What was going to +happen? Should she hear Cardo's name from Captain Owen? Could she +find her way to the docks? and as a gleam of sunlight shone in through +the little window in the linen cupboard, she thought what a bright and +happy place Fordsea was after all. + +She hurried through her domestic preparations, and then, after a +consultation with her uncle, made an expedition into the market, +ordering supplies for the following days. When she returned, the front +door was open, and, entering the passage, she heard loud voices in her +uncle's room, and gently pushing the door open, saw a rough-bearded, +blue-eyed man standing by the bedside. + +"Well, that's all settled, then; you'll let the young man have my +rooms? 'Twill only be for two or three days. And this is your niece? +Well, upon my word, I begin to repent of my bargain. Hard lines for +me! to be tied to the docks night and day to watch those repairs, while +my young friend comes here to be taken care of and fussed about by my +old friend and such a pretty girl." + +Valmai felt disappointed; she had hoped to learn something from their +guest of Cardo and his whereabouts. + +"I am sorry," she said, as he took his departure, "that you can't stay +here." + +The gallant captain taking her hand, looked admiringly at the blushing +face. + +"By Jove, and so am I; but dooty is dooty, my dear, especially your +dooty to your ship. Good-bye, come and see you again soon." And once +more Valmai was left to conflicting emotions. + +The day passed quickly, while she divided her attention between her +uncle's wants and her preparations for the guest who was to arrive +about six o'clock. Mrs. Finch would prepare the tea and roast the fowl +which was to accompany it, and Valmai added little dainty touches of +flowers and lights for the table. + +"We won't light the candles till he knocks at the door; and when he has +once sat down to his meal, I can manage about taking it out; but I am +very nervous. I wonder what he will be like." + +Her uncle knocked and called incessantly, giving fresh directions and +asking innumerable questions, in his anxiety that his friend's friend +should be made comfortable under his roof. At last everything was +ready, a bright fire burning in the grate threw its glow through the +open door of the adjoining bedroom, and flickered on the +prettily-arranged dressing-table. All looked cosy and home-like, and +when everything was completed, Valmai retired to put on a fresh frock +of white serge. + +"His name is Gwynn," said her uncle at last, while she listened +breathlessly to the opening of the front door, and the entrance of the +stranger. + +"This is Captain Powell's house?" said a voice which set Valmai's +pulses throbbing, and all the blood in her body rushed to her face and +head. For a moment she felt dizzy, and she all but dropped the tray +which she was holding for her uncle. + +"Don't you be afraid, may dear," said the captain consolingly. +"Captain Owen tells me he's a ra-al gentleman, and they are always +easily pleased. He won't look at you, may dear; but, by Jingo, if he +does, Ay'm not ashamed of you. Now, you go down, and make a nice +curtsey, may dear, not like Mrs. Finch makes it, you know, but as, Ay +bet, you have larnt it at the dancing school; a scrape behind with one +foot, you know, and hold your frock with two hands, and then say, 'My +uncle hopes you will make yourself quite at home, sir.'" + +"Oh, uncle!" said Valmai, in despair, "he's not come out yet from his +bedroom. Won't I wait till he is seated down at his tea, and till Mrs. +Finch has gone?" + +"Well, confound the ole 'ooman," said the captain, knocking violently +on the floor, "where is she now? Why don't she come and tell me how +he's getting on? Roast fowl nicely browned, may dear? Egg sauce?" + +"Yes, and sausages, uncle. There, he is come out now, and Mrs. Finch +is taking the fowl in; he is saying something to her and laughing. Now +he is quite quiet," said the girl. + +"Of course; he's attending to business." And for the next quarter of +an hour, Valmai had the greatest difficulty in restraining her uncle's +impatience. + +"Let him have time to finish, uncle!" + +"Yes, yes; of course, may dear, we'll give him time." + +"I can now hear Mrs. Finch say, Is there anything else, sir? So she is +going. Yes, there, she has shut the front door. Oh, dear, dear! Now +if he rings, I _must_ go in." + +"Oh, dear, dear," said the captain, in an irritable voice, "what is +there to oh, dear, dear, about? You go down and do as Ay tell you, and +you can just say, as the ladies do, you know, 'I hope your tea is to +your laiking, sir.' Go now, at once." And as she went, with +hesitating footsteps, he threw an encouraging "Good gel" after her. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE WEB OF FATE. + +Arrived on the door-mat of the little parlour, where Cardo Wynne was +coming to an end of a repast, which showed by its small remnants that +it had been thoroughly appreciated, Valmai fell into a tremor of +uncertainty. Was it Cardo? Yes, she could not be mistaken in the +voice; but how would he take her sudden appearance? Would he be glad? +Would he be sorry? And the result of her mental conflict was a very +meek, almost inaudible knock. + +"Come in," shouted Cardo from within. Another pause, during which +Cardo said, "Why the deuce don't you come in?" + +The door was slowly opened, and there appeared Valmai, blushing and +trembling as if she had been caught in some delinquency. + +For a moment Cardo was speechless with astonishment, but not for long, +for, in answer to Valmai's apologetic, "Oh! Cardo, it's me; it's only +me, whatever!" she was folded in his arms, and pressed so close to his +heart that her breath came and went in a gasp half of fright and half +of delight. + +"Gracious heavens! What does it mean?" he said, holding her at arms' +length. "My own little wild sea-bird! My little white dove! My +darling, my wife! Where have you flown from? How are you here?" + +They were interrupted by a thundering knock on the floor above them. +Cardo started. "What is that?" he said. + +Valmai laughed as she somewhat regained her composure. + +"It is Uncle John," she said. "Wait while I run up to him, and then I +will come back and explain everything." + +"Uncle John!" said Cardo in bewilderment, as he saw through the doorway +the graceful white figure flit up the narrow stairs. "Uncle John! Can +that be Captain Powell? Of course, old Essec's brother, no doubt. I +have heard they are Pembrokeshire people." + +"Well, how is he getting on?" said the old man, as Valmai entered +blushing. + +"Oh, all right, uncle! there isn't much of the fowl left, so I'm sure +he enjoyed it." + +"That's raight, may gel, that's raight. Now make him as comfortable as +you can. May jar of tobacco is down there somewhere, and there's a +bottle of whisky in the corner cupboard. Ay hear Jim Harris coming to +the door; now don't disturb me any more, and tell Mr. Gwyn Ay'll be +happy to see him tomorrow. Now, mind, no larks." + +"No what?" said Valmai, with puckered eyebrows. + +"Larks, larks! Don't you know what 'larks' are, child? Ay bet you do, +with that pretty face of yours." + +Valmai still looked puzzled. + +"Well, 'high jinks,' then; flirtation, then; will that suit your +ladyship?" + +"Oh, flirtation! Very well, uncle, good-night." And after a kiss and +another "good gel," Valmai passed Jim at the doorway, and went slowly +downstairs. + +Cardo stood at the bottom awaiting her with wide open arms. + +"Come, come, Valmai; how slow you are, fanwylyd. I am waiting for you. +What made you step so slowly down the stairs?" he said, as he drew her +towards him; "you should have flown, dearest." + +"I was thinking," said Valmai. + +"And of what?" + +"Thinking whether I had told uncle an untruth. He said, 'no +flirtations,' 'larks;' he called it; and I said, 'Very well, uncle,' +and I was wondering whether husband and wife could flirt." + +Cardo laughed heartily. + +"Come and sit by me, Valmai," he said, "and let us see. Come and +explain to me how, in the name of all that is wonderful and delightful, +I find you here, with your head nestled on my shoulder, instead of +being separated from me by wind and wave, as, in the natural course of +events, you should have been?" + +"Well, you see, Cardo, when you passed the stile on Thursday (oh, that +sad Thursday!)"--Cardo shared in the shiver which shook her--"I was +there, to catch a last glimpse of you; but I was afraid to show myself +because of the 'Vicare du,' so I shrank down behind the hedge till you +had passed, and then I stood up and waved my handkerchief, and then you +were gone; and I fell down on the moss, and cried dreadfully. Oh, +Cardo, I did feel a big rent in my heart. I never thought it was going +to be mended so soon; and I roamed about all day, and tried hard to +keep my sorrow out of my thoughts, but I couldn't; it was like a heavy +weight here." And she crossed her hands on her bosom. "All that day, +and all the next, I went about from place to place, but _not_ to the +Berwen, I could not walk there without you; and the next morning, when +I came back from Ynysoer, where I had been to see Nance, I found my +uncle reading a letter. It was from Jim Harris, the sailor, who does +everything for Uncle John, to say he had broken his leg, and would I +come and nurse him? And indeed, I was very glad, whatever, to have +something to do; so I came at once. Uncle Essec drove me to Caer +Madoc, and I thought what a dull, grey town Fordsea was, until this +morning when the doctor came and said the _Burrawalla_ had come back +for repairs; and then the sun seemed to shine out, and when I went out +marketing, I could not think how I had made such a mistake about +Fordsea. It is the brightest, dearest place!" + +"It is Paradise," said Cardo. + +"There's Jim Harris going! I must go and lock the door." + +"Everything is all raight, miss, and Ay wish you good-night," said Jim, +as he went out. He went through the same formula every night. + +"Now for my part of the story," said Cardo, when she returned. + +"First let me take the tea-things away, Cardo." + +"No, no, bother the tea-things; let them be for a while, Valmai. I +forbid your carrying them away at present, and, you know, you have +promised to obey." + +"Yes, indeed, and to love you, and no one ever did love anybody as much +as I love you. Oh, I am sure of it. No, indeed, Cardo. Not more, +whatever, but you know, you know," and her head drooped low, so that he +had to raise her chin to look into her face. + +"I know what? I know you are my wife, and no earthly power can +separate us now. Where is your ring, dearest? It should be on this +little finger." + +"No, it is here," and Valmai pressed her hand on her neck; "you know I +was to wear it here instead of on my finger until next year." + +"Until I came back, darling; and until I took it off myself and placed +it on your finger. Come, wifie, where is it?" + +Valmai allowed herself to be persuaded, and Cardo, undoing the white +satin ribbon, drew off the ring, and placed it on her finger. She +looked at it thoughtfully. + +"Am I, then, really your wife, Cardo?" + +"Really and truly, Valmai; signed, sealed, and delivered," he said; +"and let me see the man who dares to come between us!" and his black +eyes flashed with a look of angry defiance which Valmai had not seen +there before. + +"Oh, anwl! I hope your eyes will never look like that at me," she said. + +"But they will," said Cardo, laughing, "if you are the culprit who +tries to divide us. You don't know how fierce I can be." + +"Please, sir, can I take the tea-things now?" + +"On condition that you come back at once. No, let me carry them out +for you, dearest; you shall not begin by waiting upon me." + +"Oh, but I must, Cardo, for old Mrs. Finch goes home when she has +brought the tea in always." + +And she laughed merrily at Cardo's clumsy efforts at clearing away. As +she opened the door into the passage a tremendous roaring and snorting +filled the air. + +"What on earth is that?" said Cardo. + +"It is my uncle snoring, and if you dropped that tray (which I am +afraid you will) the clatter wouldn't awake him." + +"Good old man! let him rest, then. You are not going to wash up those +things?" + +"No, Mrs. Finch will do that in the morning. And now, Cardo, I must do +what my uncle told me to do," she said, as they returned into the cosy +parlour, glowing with the light of the blazing fire; and, holding up +her dress with her two fingers, she made a prim little curtsey, and +said: + +"I hope your tea has been to your liking, sir? And now for the rest of +my duty. Here is his jar of tobacco, and here is the kettle on the +hob, and here is the bottle of whisky, and here are the slippers which +I had prepared for you." + +"Little did I think, Valmai, it was you who had made everything look so +cosy and sweet for me--these flowers on the table and all those pretty +fal-lals on my dressing-table. Little did I think it was my little +wife who had prepared them all for me. But as I entered the front door +a strange feeling of happiness and brightness came over me." + +"And I knew the first tone of your voice, Cardo. Oh, I would know it +anywhere--among a thousand." + +There were innumerable questions for the one to ask and the other to +answer as they sat in the glowing firelight. First, there was the +description of the repairs required by Captain Owen's ship--"Blessed +repairs, Valmai!"--and the extraordinary special Providence which had +caused the ss. _Ariadne_ to collide at midships with the _Burrawalla_, +and, moreover, so to damage her that Cardo's berth and those of the +three other inmates of his cabin would alone be disturbed by the +necessary repairs. + +"Captain Owen thinks we shall be ready to sail in three days, so it is +not worth while writing to my father," said Cardo. "The thick fog +which looked so dismal as I drove into Caer Madoc with him--how little +I guessed it would culminate in the darkness which brought about the +collision, and so unite me with my beloved wife. Valmai, if Providence +ever arranged a marriage, it was yours and mine, dearest." + +"But, Cardo--" + +"'But me no buts,' my lovely white sea-bird. Nothing can alter the +fact that you are my own little wife." + +"Yes, I know," said Valmai, "but if you love me as much as you say you +do, grant me one request, Cardo." + +"A hundred, dearest; what is it?" + +"Well, we have had to be deceitful and secret--more so than I have ever +been in my life. We could not help it; but now, here, let us be open. +Give me leave to tell my uncle the truth." + +"Valmai! he will write at once to his brother, and the news will reach +my father, and it will break his heart to find I have deceived him. +No, let me be the first to tell him. I shall have no hesitation in +doing so when I return this time next year." + +"But, Cardo, dear old Uncle John is quite a different sort of man to my +Uncle Essec or to your father. I know he would never, never divulge +our secret; he is kindness itself, and would, I know, feel for us. And +it would be such a comfort to me to know that we had been open and +above-board where it was possible to be so. Cardo, say yes." + +"Yes, yes, yes, dearest, I know, I feel you are right, so tell him the +whole truth. Oh, how proud I should be to tell the whole world were it +possible, and how proud I _shall_ be when I return, to publish abroad +my happiness. But until then, Valmai, you will keep to your promise of +perfect secrecy? for I would not for all the world that my father +should hear of my marriage from any lips but my own. You promise, +dearest?" + +"Cardo, I promise," and Valmai looked pensively into the fire. "A year +is a long time," she said, "but it will come to an end some time." + +"Don't call it a year. I don't see why I should not be back in eight +or nine months." + +The kettle sang and the bright fire gleamed, the old captain snored +upstairs, and thus began for Valmai and Cardo that fortnight of +blissful happiness, which bore for both of them afterwards such bitter +fruits; for upon overhauling the _Burrawalla_ it was discovered that +she had sustained more injury than was at first suspected, and the two +or three days' delay predicted by Captain Owen were lengthened out to a +full fortnight, much to the captain's chagrin and the unspeakable +happiness of Cardo and Valmai. + +Next day at eleven A.M. Captain Powell was lying in state, not with the +trappings of mourning around him, but decked out in a brilliant scarlet +dressing-gown, a yellow silk handkerchief bound round his head for a +night-cap. Jim Harris had just shaved him, and as he left the room had +said: + +"There, capting, the Prince of Wales couldn't look no better." + +Valmai flitted about, putting the finishing touches to her uncle's +gorgeous toilet. + +"Do Ay look all raight, may dear?" + +"Oh, splendid, uncle, only I would like you better in your plain white +night shirt and my little gray shawl pinned over you." + +"Oh, go 'long! with your shawls and your pins! You wait another month +and Ay'll be kicking may heels about on the quay free from all these +old women's shawls and dressing-gowns and things. Now, you go and call +the young man up." + +And Valmai went and soon returned, bringing Cardo with her. + +"Well, Mr. Gwyn, and how are you? Very glad to see you, sir, under may +roof. Hope you slept well, and that the lil gel has given you a good +breakfast." + +"Oh, first rate, sir," said Cardo, shaking hands and taking the chair +which Valmai placed for him beside the bed. + +"Well, now, here's a quandary, the _Burrawalla_ is in! but it's an ill +wind that blows nobody any good, and since you must be delayed, Ay'm +very glad it has landed you here." + +"The delay is of no consequence to me; and it's a wind I shall bless +all my life." + +"Well, Ay don't know what Captain Owen would say to that nor the owners +nayther. They wouldn't join in your blessings, I expect." + +Cardo felt he had made a mistake, and looked at Valmai for inspiration. + +"Mr. Wynne was rather hurried away, uncle, so he was not sorry to come +back." + +Cardo nodded his thanks to Valmai, and the captain and he were soon +chatting unconstrainedly, and when at last Cardo accepted a cigar from +a silver case which the captain drew from under his pillow, his +conquest of the old man's heart was complete. + +"If Ay _am_ cooped up here in bed," he said, "Ay'm not going to be +denied may smoke, nor yet may glass of toddy, though the doctor trayed +hard to stop it. 'Shall Ay mix it a little weaker, sir?' sez Jim +Harris. None of your tarnished nonsense, Ay sez, you mix it as usual. +Ay've stuck to my toddy (just one glass or two at naight) for the last +thirty years, and it's not going to turn round on me, and do me harm +now. Eh, Mr. Gwyn?" + +Cardo lighted his cigar with an apology to Valmai. + +"Oh, she's used to it," said the captain, "and if she don't like it, +she can go downstairs; you'll want to see about Mr. Gwyn's dinner, may +dear." + +"No, no, sir," said Cardo, "certainly not. I dine every day with all +the other passengers on board the _Burrawalla_. I shall come back to +my tea, and I hope your niece will always sit down to her tea and +breakfast with me." + +"Oh, well, if you laike. She's quaite fit to sit down with any +nobleman in the land." + +Later on in the day, Valmai, sitting on the window-seat reading out to +her uncle from the daily paper, suddenly laid it aside. + +"Rather a dull paper to-day, uncle!" + +"Yes, rather, may dear; but you are not reading as well as usual;" and +she wasn't, for in truth she was casting about in her mind for a good +opening for her confession to her uncle. "Suppose you sing me a song, +may dear!" + +And she tried-- + + "By Berwen's banks my love hath strayed + For many a day in sun and shade, + And as she carolled loud and clear + The little birds flew down to hear." + + +"That don't go as well as usual, too," said her uncle, unceremoniously +cutting short the ballad. "Haven't you any more news to give me?" + +"Shall I tell you a story, uncle?" + +"Well, what's it about, may dear? Anything to pass the taime! Ay'm +getting very taired of lying abed." + +"Well then, listen uncle; it's a true story." + +"Oh, of course," said the old man. "'Is it true, mother?' Ay used to +ask when she told us a story. 'Yes, of course,' she'd say, 'if it +didn't happen in this world, it happened in some other,' so, go on, may +dear." + +"Well," said Valmai, laughing rather nervously, "this happened in this +world, whatever! Once upon a time, there was a young girl who was +living on a wild sea-coast. It was very beautiful, but she was very +lonely sometimes, for she had no father nor mother, nor sister nor +brother." + +"Poor thing," said the old man. + +"Yes, certainly, she was very lonely," continued Valmai; "but one day +she met a young man, bright and brave and true." + +"Handsome?" + +"Yes, handsome, with sparkling black eyes, and--and--oh, very handsome! +and they loved each other truly, and--and--" + +"Yes, yes! skip that. Ay know that. Go on." + +"You can imagine that the poor lonely girl gave all her heart to her +lover, as there was no one else who cared for it; and so the days were +going by, and they were all in all to each other. But he had a stern, +morose father, and she had a cold and selfish uncle; and these two men +hated each other with a deadly hatred, just like a story book." + +"Yes, Ay know," said the old man; "like Romeo and Juliet, you know." + +"Perhaps, indeed," said Valmai; "but anyway, they dare not tell anyone +of their love, for they knew that the old father would never agree to +their being married, and the young man was very fond of his father, +although he was so dark and dour. At last, suddenly, he told his son +that he wanted him to go a long way off on business for him, and, +wishing to please him, he agreed to go." + +"More fool he!" said the captain. "Ay wouldn't 'a gone." + +"But he promised, and he hoped that when he had given his father this +proof of his love, he would give his consent to his marriage." + +"Was he rich?" + +"Yes, rather, I think." + +"Well, why in the name of common sense didn't he defy his tarnished old +father, and marry the girl he liked?" + +"You'll see, uncle; wait a minute. The days passed on, and their +parting was drawing near, and the nearer it came the more miserable +they were; and at last the lover begged his sweetheart to marry him, so +that he might feel, when he was far away, that she was really his wife +whatever might happen. Well, they were married the very morning on +which he left; married in an old, deserted church by a young clergyman, +who was a good and true friend to them." + +"A jolly nice man he must have bin!" + +"Yes, indeed, he was." + +"You are making it all up in your head, Ay know. But what did they do +next?" + +"Well, as soon as they were married, they kissed and said good-bye with +breaking hearts." + +"Oh, dash it!" said the captain, "Ay'd have managed it better than +that, anyhow." + +"But they didn't. The bridegroom sailed away, for the country he was +going to was miles and miles and miles over the sea, and the poor bride +was left at home with her sorrow. But soon afterwards she went to live +with another relation, a dear old man--the best, the kindest, the +tenderest, the jolliest old man in the world. In fact, he had only one +fault, and that was that he sometimes used a bad word." + +"Poor old chap!" said the captain. "You mustn't be too hard upon him +for that, Valmai, becos Ay dare say he couldn't help it. P'r'aps you +wouldn't believe it now, but there was a taime when Ay swore like a +trooper; and it grew upon me so much that Ay d--d everything!--even the +milk for breakfast--and Ay'm dashed if Ay could stop it, Valmai. May +poor mother was alive then, and she sez to me one day with tears in her +eyes, 'Tray, may boy, to leave off swearing; it is killing me,' she +sez, with her sweet, gentle voice. So Ay sez to mayself, 'John,' Ay +sez, 'you are a d--d fool. You're killing your mother with your +foolish swears. Pull up short,' sez Ay, 'and tray and faind some other +word that'll do.' So Ay fixed upon 'tarnished,' and Ay'm dashed if may +mother wasn't perfectly satisfayed. It's a grand word! Puts you in +mind of tar and 'tarnal and tarpauling, and lots of shippy things. +'Twas hard to get used to it at first; but 'pon may word now, may dear, +it comes as nat'ral as swearing. But there! go on with the story. +Where were we?" + +Valmai was a little bewildered by the captain's reminiscences. + +"Well, we had just come to where the girl, or rather the young wife, +had gone to live with her other uncle. Here she would have been as +happy as the day is long, had it not been for the continual sorrow for +her lover." + +The captain began to look a little suspicious, but Valmai hastened to +prevent further interruptions. + +"But now comes the wonderful part of the story, uncle. A dreadful +storm arose, and a thick fog came on, and the ship in which the +bridegroom sailed was so damaged that she had to put back for repairs. +The young man found lodgings in the town, and what house do you think +he came to? but the very one where the bride lived with her dear old +uncle, and they made up their minds to tell him everything, and to +throw themselves on his generosity. Dear uncle, what do you think of +my story?" + +"Dashed if Ay didn't begin to think it was me you meant by the old man. +But child, child, you are not going to cheat that kind old uncle, and +tell him a pack of lies, and laugh at him. You are not the bride?" + +"Yes, uncle," said Valmai, with blushing face and drooping eyelids. + +"And Mr. Gwyn is the bridegroom?" + +"Yes. His name is Wynne, not Gwyn." + +"And you knew nothing about it until he came here yesterday?" + +"Nothing; but that he had sailed in the _Burrawalla_, and when I heard +she had returned a wild hope came to me, and when I heard his voice in +the passage I could have fainted with joy." + +"And you are both united under may roof? and are man and wife?" + +"Yes. Oh, uncle, don't be angry! It was not our own doing. It was +Providence who sent him back to me from the storm and fog. _Don't_ be +angry." + +"Angry, child!" said the old man, almost lifting himself up in his bed; +"why Ay'm tarnished if anything so jolly ever happened in may laife +before. And to think we have dodged the old father! and the old uncle! +Why, that must be Essec!" and this discovery was followed by a burst of +rumbling laughter, which set Valmai more at her ease. + +"But never mind who he is, here you are, and here you shall be happy. +Ay'll take your parts, may dears. Ay'll see that nothing comes between +you any more." + +"And you will keep our secret, uncle, until Cardo comes back?" + +"Of course, child. We mustn't tell anyone, for fear it will get round +to the old father's ears. Bay the bay, who is he?" + +"Mr. Wynne, the Vicar of the parish, the 'Vicare du' they call him, +from his black looks." + +"The 'Vicare du!'" said the captain, "why! he is rolling in money! +You've done a tidy little job for yourself, may gel, and your old Uncle +John will befriend you." + +Here Mrs. Finch opened the door, and, with a sniff, said, "The +gentleman's come back, and he wants to know can he see Miss Powell?" + +The captain fell into another fit of laughter, while Mrs. Finch stared +at him in astonishment. + +"Tell him to come up," he said, at last, "you gaping old gudgeon, what +you standing staring there for? Send Mr. Wynne up. Tell him the lady +is here, and Ay want to see him." + +In a few moments Cardo bounded up, three steps at a time, but not +without fears as to the effect of Valmai's revelation, for she had +whispered to him as she had let him out at the front door: + +"I am going up to tell him now." + +"Well Ay never!" said the Captain, with pretended severity; "how dare +you show your face to me after stealing may lil gel from under may very +nose? Come here, you rascal, and shake hands over it! Wish you joy, +may dear fellow! And the lil one, where is she? Come here, you lil +fool! What are you hiding there for? Come and put your hand in your +husband's. There now! that's something like it. And God bless you. +So you're husband and wife, are ye?" looking critically from one to the +other. "Well, ye're a jolly good-looking pair! And so ye're married, +are ye?" + +"With your permission, sir," said Cardo, laughing, "and with your +blessing upon us. I am so thankful to feel I shall not be leaving +Valmai without a friend when I sail." + +"No, no, not without a friend. Ay'll stick to her. But, look here, +keep it all dark from old Finch!" And he seemed bursting with the +importance and pleasure of his secret. "You go down to your tea, may +dears; Ay ain't going to be a selfish old uncle. No, no, go along with +you, both of you, and send old Finch up to me. But look here!" he +called after them, in a hoarse whisper, "mum's the word!" + +The sun shone brilliantly, and the weather seemed to repent of its late +burst of temper. Never had there been such a lovely September! Never +had the harbour glistened so brightly in the sunshine, and never since +he had broken his leg had the captain laughed so heartily or enjoyed +himself so thoroughly as he did during the fortnight which followed, +when Cardo read to him out of the newspaper and Valmai sang at her work +about the house. + +Captain Owen came in every day with news of the repairs. + +"Well, Mr. Wynne," he said one morning, "I am happy to tell you we +shall sail to-morrow afternoon." + +Cardo's heart sank, and Valmai turned very pale. + +"Your cabin is being refitted to-day, and I shall be glad if you can +come on board by four o'clock to-morrow afternoon. There's every +promise of fine weather. No more fogs, no more collisions, I hope." + +"I'll take care to be on board in good time," Cardo said. + +"Tarnished if Ay won't be awful dull without you!" said Captain Powell. +"He's been as jolly, and as much at home here as you would yourself, +Owen! He's read to me and he's brought me cigars, and always with a +smile on his face; and Ay hope he's bin comfortable here." + +"Thoroughly, indeed," said Cardo. "I shall never forget the fortnight +I have passed under your roof." + +"The lil gel has done her best, Ay know," said his host. + +"A year I think you said you were going out for," said Captain Owen. + +"Well, I hope to be away only eight or nine months; certainly not +longer than a year," said Cardo. + +And while the two old sea captains bade their last good-byes and good +wishes to each other, Cardo slipped out to find Valmai, who had quietly +disappeared. + +She was sitting on the old red sofa in the little back parlour in an +abandonment of grief. + +"Oh! Cardo, Cardo, it has come! Now in reality it has come!" + +Cardo drew her towards him. + +"Cheer up, darling," he said. "You'll be brave for my sake, won't you?" + +"Yes," she said, trying to check her sobs, "this is the last time I am +going to be weak and childish. To-morrow I will be strong and brave +and womanly. You will see, Cardo, a bright, courageous wife to cheer +her husband at parting, and to bid him look forward with hope to +meeting again. Oh! I know quite well what I ought to be." + +"You are perfection in my eyes, f'anwylyd--that is what makes the +parting with you so cruel. Gwynne Ellis was quite right when he said +that it would be much harder to part with a wife of a week than a +sweetheart of a year." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE "BLACK DOG." + +During the next few weeks, Cardo Wynne was generally to be seen pacing +the deck of the _Burrawalla_, playing with the children or chatting +with some of the passengers. He walked up and down, with his hands +sunk deep in his pockets, and cap tied firmly under his chin, for there +was a pretty stiff breeze blowing, which developed later on in the +voyage into the furious gales and storms which made that autumn so +memorable for its numerous wrecks and casualties. Cardo was a great +favourite on board, his frank and genial manner, the merry twinkle of +his eye, and his tender politeness to the very old or the very young +had won all hearts. With good-natured cheerfulness he entered into the +plans and pastimes of the youthful part of the community, so that he +had made a favourable impression upon all, from the cabin boy to the +captain, and from the old general, who seldom left his berth, to the +big black retriever, who was making his third voyage with his master to +the Antipodes. + +"Always a pleasant smile on his face when you speak to him," said one +of the ladies to a friend one day; "but I think he has a rather sad +look sometimes, when he is pacing up and down with his hands in his +pockets." + +"Yes," said the other, with a sentimental air, "I wonder what he is +thinking of at those times! I'll make love to the captain, and see if +I can find out something about him, they seem very intimate. We must +try and cheer him up, dear." + +"He doesn't seem to want much cheering up now," said her friend, as +Cardo passed them with two other young men, who were enjoying a story +told by one of them, Cardo's merry laugh being loudest and heartiest of +the three. But--there was a sober, wistful look on his face sometimes +which was not habitual to it, and as the days slipped on, he might +often be seen, leaning over the side of the vessel with an anxious +pucker on his forehead. + +The parting with Valmai had, of course, been a trying ordeal. With the +fervour of a first and passionate love, he recalled every word she had +spoken, every passing shade of thought reflected on her face, and while +these reveries occupied his mind, there was a tender look in the deep +black eyes and a smile on his lips. But these pleasant memories were +apparently often followed by more perplexing thoughts. One afternoon +he had been standing for some time lost in a dream, while he looked +with eyes that saw nothing over the heaving waters to the distant +horizon, when the captain's voice at his elbow recalled him to his +surroundings. + +"You are looking at the very point of the wind, the very eye of the +storm." + +"The storm!" said Cardo, starting; "are we going to have one?" + +The captain looked critically in the direction towards which they were +sailing. + +"Dirty weather coming, I think." + +"Yes, I see," said Cardo; "I had not noticed it before, though. How +inky black the sky is over there! And the sea as black, and that white +streak on the line of the horizon!" + +"We shall have a bit of a toss," said the captain. "Couldn't expect to +get to Australia on a mill pond." + +"Mill pond do you call the swells we have had the last few days?" + +"Almost," replied the captain, leaving him unceremoniously, and +shouting some orders to his crew. + +Thus left, Cardo fell again into a deep reverie. Yes, it looked black +before them! "But I have always wished to see a storm at sea, and if I +only had Valmai with me, I should be joyous and exultant; but instead +of that, I am alone, and have a strange foreboding of some evil to +come. I can't be well, though I'm sure I don't know where I ail, for I +feel alright, and I eat like a horse." + +"Come, Mr. Wynne," said one of the ladies, who had marked his serious +looks, "we must really call you to account! You have fallen into a +brown study again. You must let us cheer you up. We can't have the +very life of the party losing his spirits. Now if you had left your +wife at home, as Mr. Dawson has!" + +"I have done that," said Cardo, "but I am not at all likely to fall +into low spirits. I have never in my life known what that means; but a +man, more especially a married man, must have his moments of serious +thought sometimes." + +"Yes, of course," said the lady, with a considerable diminution of +interest in "the handsome Mr. Wynne!" "You have left your little ones +too, I suppose?" + +"No," said Cardo, laughing, "I have none." + +"Ah, indeed, that's a pity!" and she took the first opportunity of +joining her friend, and telling her of her discovery. + +Cardo continued to look out to sea. No, bad enough to leave Valmai, +but "little ones"? Would that time ever come? and as he pondered, a +fresh idea seemed to strike him. It was evidently a painful one, it +stung him like the lash of a whip, and clenching his hands, and +muttering something between his teeth, he roused himself hastily, and +joined a party of young people, who were amusing themselves with the +pranks of a little boy, who, delighted with the notice taken of him, +strutted about and gave his orders, in imitation of the captain. + +"Oh, here's Mr. Wynne," said the little urchin, and in a moment he was +lifted on to Cardo's shoulder, whooping with delight, and for the next +hour, the laugh was loudest and the fun most furious where Cardo and +his little friend were located. Before long, however, the storm was +upon them. Masts creaked and cordage rattled; the sails had been +lowered, and everything made safe, and Captain Owen, standing on the +bridge, looked energetic, and "fit" to fight with the storm-fiend. The +ladies soon retired, and many of the gentlemen followed them below, +some of the younger and hardier remaining on deck. Amongst them was +Cardo, who watched the fury of the elements as the wind tore down upon +them. Once, as the captain passed him, he asked, "Is there any +danger?" "I see none," was the laconic reply. It satisfied Cardo, and +he gave himself up to watch the grandeur of the storm. It was natural +that the thought of Valmai should enter his mind, and that he should +long for her presence; but it was not natural that he, a young and +healthy man, in the first flush of his manhood, should feel this +strange depression, this dark cloud hanging over him, whenever he +thought of his young wife. It was unlike Cardo. If his life had been +devoid of any special interest or excitement, it had at least been free +from care. Not even his lonely childhood, or his dull, old home had +dimmed the brightness and elasticity of his spirits. He had never had +a cobweb in his brain, and this haunting shadow which followed every +sweet memory of his wife was beginning to rouse his resentment, and +while the storm raged around him, and the ship ploughed her way through +the seething waters, Cardo Wynne, set himself with manful determination +to face the "black dog" which had haunted him lately; and somewhat in +this groove ran his thoughts. + +"Valmai, sweet Valmai, I have left her; it could not be helped. I will +return to her on the wings of love as soon as I have fulfilled my +father's wishes." But a year--had he provided fully and properly for +her happiness during that time? Money, amply sufficient, he had left +in her uncle's keeping for her, as she had firmly refused to accept it +herself. "I shall not want it; I have plenty for myself. I have +twenty gold sovereigns in my little seal purse at home, and I shall +receive my next quarter's allowance soon. No, no, Cardo, no money +until we set up house-keeping," and he had acceded to her wishes; but +had, unknown to her, left a cheque in her uncle's keeping. "Why did I +claim from her that promise of secrecy? What if circumstances might +arise which would make it impossible for her to keep it?" He knew that +having given her promise to him, she would rather die than break it. +He had acted the part of a selfish man, who had no thought, but of his +own passionate love; the possible consequences to her had not before +occurred to his mind. But now, in the stress of the storm, while the +thunder rolled above him, and the lightning flashed over the swirling +waters, everything seemed clear and plain. He had done wrong, and he +would now face the wrong. Their happy meeting at Fordsea, as blissful +as it was unexpected, might be followed by times of trouble for +Valmai--times when she would desire to make known her marriage; and he +had left her with an embargo upon her only means of escape out of a +difficulty. Yes, the path was plain, he would write to her and release +her from her promise of secrecy. Better by far that his father should +be angered than that Valmai should suffer. Yes, it was plain to him +now; he had left the woman he loved in the anomalous position of a +married woman without a husband. What trying scenes might she not pass +through! What bitter fruits might not their brief happiness bear! + +The next day they had cleared the storm, its fury having been as +short-lived as it was sudden. The sea was gradually quieting down, and +the sun shone out bravely. The sails were unfurled and the +_Burrawalla_ once more went gaily on her way. + +Cardo had spent all the morning in writing; he would send his letter by +the first opportunity. It was full of all the tender expressions of +love that might be expected under the circumstances. His pen could +scarcely keep up with the flow of his thoughts. "I have done wrong in +making you promise to keep our marriage a secret," he wrote, "and I +repent bitterly of my thoughtlessness. Many things might happen which +would make it absolutely necessary that you should disclose it. For +instance, your uncle might die; what would then become of you? +Certainly you would have your good old Uncle John to fall back upon, +and he is a host in himself. If any circumstances should arise which +would make it desirable for you to do so, remember, dearest, it is my +express wish that you should make known to all the world that you are +Valmai Wynne, the beloved wife of Caradoc Wynne." Page after page was +written with the lavish fervour of a first love-letter, very +interesting to the writer no doubt, but which we will leave to the +privacy of the envelope which Cardo addressed and sealed with such +care. He placed it in his desk, not expecting that the opportunity for +sending it would so soon arrive. In the course of the afternoon, there +was some excitement on board, for a large homeward bound ship was +sighted, which had been a good deal damaged by the storm. She had been +driven before the wind, and had borne the brunt of the gale before it +had reached the _Burrawalla_, having sprung a leak which considerably +impeded her course. She hove to within hailing distance, and received +the aid which the better condition of Captain Owen's ship enabled him +to confer. She was _The Dundee_ (Captain Elliotson), bound for +Liverpool. All letters were delivered to her keeping, and the ships +went on their way, but to what different destinations. _The Dundee_, +after a stormy passage, was wrecked off the coast of France. The +captain and crew were saved, but the ship became a total wreck, sinking +at last in deep water; and thus Cardo's letter never reached Valmai. + +Its transmission, however, relieved him of much of the uneasiness which +had hung over him, and his usual cheerfulness returned in a great +measure. + +Meanwhile, Valmai hoped and longed for the promised letter. + +"Why does he not write, I wonder?" was the question continually +uppermost in her thoughts. + +The voyage of the _Burrawalla_ was, on the whole, prosperous, although, +towards the end, she was much delayed by adverse winds, so that Sydney +harbour was not reached until the end of the fourth month. A further +and unexpected delay arose from the illness of a passenger who occupied +a berth in Cardo's cabin, and as they were nearing their destination he +died of typhoid fever. Consequently the _Burrawalla_ was put into +quarantine, of course to the great annoyance and inconvenience of all +on board. + +"You are not looking well, Mr. Wynne," said the doctor one day. + +"Oh, I'm alright," said Cardo, "only impatient to get on shore. I feel +perfectly well. Why, my dear doctor, I have never had a day's illness +in my life, as far as I can remember." + +"I can believe that," said the doctor; "and what a splendid sailor you +have been. But still, let me know if you are not feeling well." + +It was quite true that Cardo had latterly experienced some sensations +to which he had hitherto been a stranger--frequent headaches and loss +of appetite; but, being of a very hardy temperament, he tried to ignore +the unpleasant symptoms, and waited for the end of the quarantine with +feverish impatience. + +When at last they were allowed to land, he was amongst the liveliest +and most energetic of the passengers. + +He drove at once to the Wolfington Hotel, to which he had been +recommended by Captain Owen. As he stepped out of the cab, the portico +of the hotel seemed strangely at loggerheads with the rest of the +building, He managed, however, to get safely inside the hall, and, +after engaging a bedroom, followed his conductor up the stairs, though +each step seemed to rise to meet his foot in an unaccountable manner. + +"A long sea voyage doesn't suit me, that's certain," he soliloquised, +as he entered the room and busied himself at once with his luggage. He +took off the labels with the intention of substituting fresh ones +addressed to his uncle's farm, deciding not to stay a day longer than +was necessary in Sydney, but to make inquiries at once as to the best +way of getting to Broadstone, Priory Valley. He still fought bravely +against the feeling of lassitude and nausea which oppressed him, and +went down to his lunch with a bold front, although the place seemed +floating around him. But in vain did the odour of the Wallaby soup +ascend to his nostrils; in vain was the roast fowl spread before him. +He scarcely tasted the viands which the attentive waiter continued to +press upon him; and at last, pushing his plate away, he rose from the +table. + +"I shall want writing materials and some labels on my return," he said, +as he left the room with a somewhat unsteady step. + +"On the razzle-dazzle last night, I expect," said the waiter, with a +wink at his fellow. + +The fresh air seemed to relieve Cardo, in some degree, of the weight +which dragged him down; he was even well enough to notice that the +uneven streets were more like those of an old-fashioned English town +than anything he had expected to find in Australia. But this feeling +of relief did not last long. In the street which led down to the quay +he observed a chemist's shop, and, entering it, asked for a "draught or +pick-me-up" of some kind. + +"I feel awfully seedy," he said, sinking into a chair. + +"Yes, you look it," said the chemist; "what's wrong?" + +"I think I must give in," said Cardo, "for I believe I am sickening for +typhoid fever." + +The chemist looked grave. + +"I advise you to go home at once, and to bed." + +"Yes," replied Cardo, trying to rise to the emergency, and still +manfully struggling against the disease which threatened him. "Yes, I +will go home," he said again, walking out of the shop. He took the +wrong turning however, going down towards the harbour, instead of +returning to the hotel, and he was soon walking under a burning sun +amongst the piled-up bales and packages on the edge of the quay. A +heavy weight seemed to press on his head, and a red mist hung over +everything as he walked blindly on. At a point which he had just +reached, a heap of rough boxes obstructed his path, and at that moment +a huge crank swung its iron arm over the edge of the dock, a heavy +weight was hanging from it, and exactly as Cardo passed, it came with a +horizontal movement against the back of his head with terrible force, +throwing him forward insensible on the ground. The high pile of boxes +had hidden the accident from the crowd of loungers and pedestrians who +might otherwise have noticed the fall. The sudden lurch with which he +was thrown forward jerked his pocket-book from the breast-pocket of his +coat, and it fell to the ground a foot or two in front of him. It was +instantly picked up by a loafer, who had been leaning against the pile +of boxes, and who alone had witnessed the accident; he immediately +stooped to help the prostrate man, and finding him pale and still, +shouted for assistance, and was quickly joined by a knot of +"larrikins," who dragged the unconscious man a little further from the +edge of the quay. + +It was not long before a small crowd had gathered round, the man who +had first observed him making a safe escape in the confusion, Cardo's +pocket-book carefully hidden under his tattered coat. + +"Better take him up to Simkins the chemist," said a broad-shouldered +sailor; and, procuring a stretcher, they carried their unconscious +burden to the chemist's shop. + +"Why, let me see," said Mr. Simkins; "surely this is the gentleman who +called here a few minutes ago. I told him to go home, and he said he +would; but I noticed he turned down towards the quay; poor fellow, bad +case, I'm afraid. He said he thought he was sickening for typhoid +fever, and he's about right, I think." + +"What shall we do with him?" said the sailor. "See if you can find a +card or letter in his pockets? Nothing," he added, as together they +searched Cardo's pockets, "not a card, nor a letter, nothing but this +bunch of keys, and some loose gold and silver." + +There was no clue to the stranger's identity, except the marking on his +clothing. + +"Here's C. W. on his handkerchief--Charles Williams, perhaps; well, he +ought to be attended to at once, if he ain't dead already," said +another. + +"Yes, a good thing the hospital is so near," said the chemist. "You +had better leave his money here, and tell Dr. Belton that you have done +so. My brother is his assistant. I daresay we shall hear more about +him from him." + +"Now, then, boys; heave up, gently, that's it," and Cardo was carried +out of the shop to the hospital in an adjoining street. Here, placed +on a bed in one of the long wards, doctors and nurses were soon around +him; but Cardo lay white and still and unconscious. + +One of the bearers had mentioned typhoid fever, and Dr. Belton looked +grave and interested as he applied himself to the examination of the +patient. + +"My brother has been here," said his assistant; "this man had just been +in to his shop, and said he believed he was sickening for typhoid, and +it wasn't ten minutes before he was picked up on the quay." + +"The heat of the sun, I expect, was too much for him under the +circumstances," said Dr. Belton. "A plain case of sunstroke, I think." + +"This money was found in his pocket," said Simkins, handing over five +sovereigns and fifteen shillings in silver; "this bunch of keys, too, +and his watch; but no card or letter to show who he is." + +"Fine young fellow," said Dr. Belton; "splendid physique, but looks +like a bad attack." + +Restoratives were tried, but with no effect; Cardo still lay like a +dead man. + +"Very strange," said the doctor, when next day he found the patient in +the same unconscious condition. "Few constitutions would be able to +fight against two such serious diseases." + +"Sunstroke as well as typhoid?" said Mr. Simkins. + +"Yes, I have no doubt of it. Curious combination of evils." + +"Poor chap!" said Simkins, "no constitution could survive that." + +"Nothing is impossible," said the doctor, "very interesting case; keep +up the strength, nurse." + +Everything was done that was possible for poor Cardo; the nurses were +unremitting in their care and attention, but nothing roused him from +his trance-like stupor. + +During the course of the day, the news of the finding of an unknown man +on the quay reached the Wolfington Hotel, where the waiter, with +another knowing wink and shake of the head, said, "On the razzle-dazzle +again, I expect. Must be the same man." And he proceeded upstairs to +examine the luggage, from which Cardo had removed the labels intending +to redirect them to his uncles house. There was no letter or paper +found to indicate the name of the owner, even the initials C. W. gave +no clue. + +"What was the man's name?" said the waiter to Mr. Simkins, who happened +to call the following morning. + +"Don't know. Charles Williams he is called at the hospital. There was +no clue to his identity, but just the letters C. W. on his linen." + +"Then, no doubt, his luggage is here," said the waiter. "All his +things are marked C. W., and, from your description, it must be the +same man." + +"Well, my brother will speak to Dr. Belton about it, and he will +arrange to have it taken care of; he already has his money and his +watch." + +And so Cardo Wynne slipped out of his place in the outside world and +was soon forgotten by all except those connected with the hospital. + +In three weeks the fever had run its course, and, to the astonishment +of the nurses and doctors, Cardo still lived. + +"Extraordinary vitality! Has he never spoken a word?" + +"Never a sound or a word until he began moaning to-day." + +"Good sign, this moaning. Mind, keep up his strength." + +And gradually, under the constant care of Doctor Belton, who was much +interested in the case, Cardo, or Charles Williams as he was now +called, recovered strength of body; and, to a slight extent, +restoration to consciousness; for though he lay inert and motionless, +his lips moved incessantly in a low muttering or whispering, in which +the nurses in vain endeavoured to find a clue to the mystery of his +illness. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A CLIMAX. + +A bitter north wind, laden with sleet and rain, blew over Abersethin +Bay, tearing the surface into streaks of foam. The fishing boats were +drawn up on the grassy slope which bordered the sandy beach, and +weighted with heavy stones. The cottage doors were all closed, and if +a stray pedestrian was anywhere to be seen, he was hurrying on his way, +his hands in his pockets and his cap tied firmly under his chin. On +the cliffs above, the wind swirled and rushed, blowing the grass all +one way and sweeping over the stunted thorn bushes. In the corners +under the hedges, the cows and horses sheltered in little groups, and +the few gaunt trees which grew on that exposed coast groaned and +creaked as they bent away from the storm. + +At Dinas the wind blew with bitter keenness through every chink and +cranny, roaring and whistling round the bare gray house, rattling the +doors and windows with every angry gust. In the little parlour at the +back of the house it was not heard so plainly. A bright fire burned in +the grate, and the crimson curtains gave it a look of warmth and +comfort which Essec Powell unconsciously enjoyed. He was sitting in +his arm-chair and in his favourite position, listening with great +interest to Valmai, who was reading aloud in Welsh from the +"Mabinogion." The tale was of love and chivalry, and it should have +interested the girl more than it did the old man who listened with such +attention, but her thoughts refused to follow the thread of the story. +She stopped occasionally to listen to the wind as it howled in the +chimney. All through the short, dark afternoon she read with untiring +patience, until at last, when the light was fading, Gwen brought in the +tea and put an end to the reading for a time. + +Valmai had stayed at Fordsea until her uncle had quite recovered from +his accident; and the New Year was well on its way before he had wished +her good-bye at the station. She left him with real sorrow, and the +old feeling of loneliness and homelessness returned to her heart. He +had received her with such warmth, and had so evidently taken her into +his life, that the friendless girl had opened her heart wide to him; +and as his rough, hairy hand rested on the window of the carriage in +which she sat, she pressed her lips upon it in a loving good-bye. +There were tears in the kind old eyes, as he stood waiting for the +train to move. + +"Won't you write, sometimes, uncle?" she asked. + +"Well, Ay won't promise that, indeed, may dear; for there's nothing Ay +hate more than wrayting a letter; but Ay'll come and see you as soon as +you have a house of your own. And don't you forget to look out for a +little cottage for me at Abersethin. Ay'm determined to end my days +near you, and _you know who_." + +"Oh! there's lovely it will be, uncle, to have you to run to whenever +anything vexes me, but nothing ever will vex me then." + +"No, no; of course, may dear, we'll all be jolly together. Good-bay, +good-bay." And the train moved out of the station. + +Two months afterwards we find Valmai at Dinas, and reading to her Uncle +Essec as usual. She busied herself with the preparations for tea, +lighting the lamp and placing the buttered toast in front of the fire +until he should awake from his dreams, and descend to real life. While +the tea was "brewing," she sank back into her chair and fell into a +deep reverie. She was as fair as ever, the golden hair drawn back from +the white, broad brows, but the eyes were full of anxious thought, and +there was a little wistful sadness about the lines of the mouth. She +was paler, and did not move about her duties with the same lightness +and grace which belonged to her when we last saw her. She seemed in no +hurry to disturb her uncle's dozing dreams, until at last Gwen came +hastily in. + +"Well, indeed! What are you two doing here? There's quiet you are!" + +Valmai started, rousing herself and her uncle. + +"Yes. Come to tea, uncle. I was thinking, Gwen." + +"Oh, yes; thinking, thinking," said Gwen, with an insolent sneer. "You +may think and think--you are always thinking now; and what about, I +should like to know?" and, with a shrewd shake of her head, she left +the room. + +A crimson tide overspread Valmai's face and neck, and, fading away, +left her paler than before. She stood for a moment with her hands +clasped, and pressed on her bosom, looking at the door through which +Gwen had just passed, and then seating herself at the table, her eyes +suffused with tears, she began to pour out her uncle's tea. + +"That's a fine piece, Valmai," he said, "how Clwyn went away and never +came back again, till the sea washed him one day at Riana's feet." + +"Yes," said the girl, in a low voice. "Won't you eat your toast, +uncle?" + +"Oh, yes, to be sure," said the old man, beginning on the buttered +toast which she placed before him. + +When tea was over, the "Mabinogion" were brought out again and Valmai +continued to read till her uncle fell asleep. Then leaving him to +Gwen's care, she gladly retired for the night into her own little +bedroom. Here she might think as much as she liked, and well she +availed herself of that privilege. Here she would sit alone for hours +every day, with her head bent over some bit of work, her busy fingers +pleating and stitching, while her thoughts took wing over the leaden +wintry sea before her. Away and away, in search of Cardo. Where was +he? Why did he not write to her? Would he ever come? Would he ever +write? And with weary reiteration she sought out every imaginary +reason for his long silence. + +New hopes, new fears had of late dawned in her heart, at first giving +rise to a full tide of happiness and joy, the joy that comes with the +hope of motherhood--woman's crowning glory; but the joy and happiness +had gradually given place to anxiety and fear, and latterly, since it +had become impossible for her to hide her condition from those around +her, she was filled with trouble and distressing forebodings, Her +sensitive nature received continual wounds. Suspicious looks and +taunting sneers, innuendos and broad suggestions all came to her with +exceeding bitterness. She knew that every day the cloud which hung +over her grew blacker and heavier. Where should she turn when her +uncle should discover her secret? In the solitude of her room she +paced backwards and forwards, wringing her hands. + +"What will I do? what will I do? He said he would return in seven or +eight months--a year at furthest. Will he come? will he ever come?" + +And, gazing out over the stormy sea, she would sob in utter prostration +of grief. Every day she walked to Abersethin and haunted the +post-office. The old postmaster had noticed her wistful looks of +disappointment, and seemed to share her anxiety for the arrival of a +letter--who from, he did not know for certain, but he made a very good +guess, for Valmai's secret was not so much her own only as she imagined +it to be. + +Her frequent meetings with Cardo, though scarcely noticed at the time, +were remembered against her; and her long stay at Fordsea, with the +rumour of Cardo's return there, decided the feeling of suspicion which +had for some time been floating about. There had been a whisper, then +mysterious nods and smiles, and cruel gossip had spread abroad the evil +tidings. + +Valmai bore all in patient silence. Her longing for Cardo's return +amounted almost to an agony, yet the thought of explaining her +position, and clearing her name before the world, never entered her +head, or, if it did, was instantly expelled. No; the whole world might +spurn her; she might die; but to reveal a secret which Cardo had +desired her to keep, seemed to her faithful and guileless nature an +unpardonable breach of honour. + +Gwen, who had not been immaculate herself, was her cruellest enemy, +never losing an opportunity of inflicting a sting upon her helpless +victim, whose presence in the household she had always resented. + +The day following Gwen's sneering remark, Valmai took her daily walk to +Abersethin post-office. + +The old man beamed at her over his counter. + +"Letter come at last, miss," he said. + +And her heart stood still. She was white to the lips as she sat down +on a convenient sack of maize. + +"It is a long walk," said the postmaster, hunting about for the letter. +"Dear me, wherrs I put it?" + +And he looked in a box of bloaters and a basket of eggs. + +"Here it is. I 'member now; I put it safe with the cheese was to go to +Dinas." + +Valmai took it with trembling fingers; it had a deep black edge. + +"It is not for me," she said. + +"Indeed! I was not notice that. I was only see 'Powell, Dinas.' I am +sorry, miss, fâch; but you must cheer up," he added, seeing the +gathering tears; "it's never so dark that the Lord can't clear it up." + +"No," said Valmai, rising from her seat. "Thank you; good-bye." + +And, blinded by her tears, she passed out into the driving wind and +sleet. Perhaps the letter bore some news of Cardo! Perhaps bad news, +for it had a black edge! She drew her red cloak tightly around her and +once more bravely faced the buffeting wind which swept the path before +her, and with fitful gusts threatened to lift her off her feet. + +When she reached Dinas, Gwen was already laying the dinner in the +little parlour. + +"You have been a long time," she said. "Where have you been? To the +post again to-day? You never used to go to the post, Valmai." + +The girl did not answer, but sat down breathless on the sofa. + +"Where is uncle? I have a letter for him." And as she spoke her uncle +entered. + +"A letter for me? Well, indeed! What can it be?" + +Essec Powell's correspondence was very limited; he hated writing, and +never answered a letter which could possibly be ignored. He adjusted +his spectacles, and after turning the envelope in every direction, +opened it. + +"Reuben Street, Fordsea," he began. "Oh, dear, dear! here's writing! +Caton pawb! I could write better myself. Read it, Valmai." + +And she obeyed. + + +"REV. ESSEC POWELL, + +"DEAR SIR,--I am grieve more than words can say to tell you this sad +news, and I hope you will prepare for the worst. Becos your brother, +Captain John Powell, No. 8 Reuben Street, Fordsea, was drownded +yesterday in the harbour, and I have loast the best frind ever I had +and ever I will have. Please to tell Miss Powell the sad news, and +please to tell her that Captain Powell was oleways talking great deal +about her, and was missing her very much. Oh, we shall never see +nobody like him again. He went out in a small boat with two frinds to +the steamer Penelope, Captain Parley, and coming back the boat was +capsize and the three gentlemen was upset in the water. One was saved, +but Captain Powell and Mr. Jones was drownded. Please to come and see +about the funeral as soon as you can. + +"I remain in great sorrow, + + "Yours truly, + + "JAMES HARRIS." + + +Valmai's trembling voice failed, and letting the letter drop, she +covered her face with her hands and burst into a flood of tears, as she +realised that her best friend had slipped away from her. In the +trouble and anxiety which had latterly clouded her life, she had often +been comforted by the thought that at all events there was one warm +heart and home open to her, but now all was lost, and her loneliness +and friendlessness pressed heavily upon her. Sob after sob shook her +whole frame. + +Essec Powell picked up the letter, and read it again. + +"Well, well," he said, "to think that John, my brother, should go +before me! Poor fellow, bâch! To be taken so suddenly and unprepared +as he was." + +"Oh, no, uncle," said Valmai, between her sobs, "he was not unprepared. +There never was a kinder soul, a more unselfish man, nor a more +generous. Oh, you don't know how good he was to the poor, how kind and +gentle to every one who suffered! Oh, God has him in His safe keeping +somewhere!" + +"Well, well," said Essec Powell, sitting down to his dinner, "we won't +argue about it now, but some day, Valmai, I would like to explain to +you the difference between that natural goodness and the saving grace +which is necessary for salvation. Come to dinner, Valmai. I wonder +how much did he leave? When is the funeral?" he said, addressing Gwen. + +"You've got to go down and settle that," she answered. "Will I tell +Shoni to put the gig ready?" + +"Yes, yes. I better go. I will be back by Sunday." + +"James Harris will help you in every way, uncle, and will settle +everything for you." + +"Oh! very well, very well. Tis a pity about the 'Mabinogion,' too; but +we'll go on with them next week, Valmai." + +Shoni and Gwen continued until bedtime to discuss with unction every +item of information past, possible, or prospective, connected with the +death of the old Captain, while Valmai lay on the old red sofa, and +thought sadly of her loss. + +"There's sudden," said Gwen, "but 'twill be a good thing for the +master, whatever!" + +Valmai lay awake far into the night recalling with tears the kindness +and even tenderness of her old uncle. + +On the following Saturday Essec Powell returned from the funeral, and +as he stepped out of the gig at the door, his face wore an unusual +expression which Valmai noticed at once. He seemed more alive to the +world around him; there was a red spot on each cheek, and he did not +answer his niece's low greeting, but walked into the parlour with a +stamping tread very unlike his usual listless shuffle. + +"Are you tired, uncle?" the girl asked gently. + +"No, I am not tired; but I am hurt and offended with you, Valmai. You +are a sly, ungrateful girl, and it is very hard on me, a poor, +struggling preacher very badly paid, to find that my only brother has +left all his worldly goods to you, who are already well provided for. +What do you think yourself? Wasn't it a shame on you to turn him +against his brother?" + +"Oh, I never did," said Valmai; "I never thought of such a thing! +Dear, dear Uncle John! I didn't want his money, I only wanted his +love." + +"What is the matter?" said Gwen, coming in. + +"Matter enough," said her master, in angry, stammering tones. "John, +my brother, has left all his money to this Judas of a girl! A hundred +and fifty pounds a year, if you please! and only a paltry 100 pounds to +me, and the same to Jim Harris, the sailor. Ach y fi! the greediness +of people is enough to turn on me." + +Between Gwen's exclamations and Essec Powell's angry harping on the +same string, the evening was made miserable to Valmai, and she was glad +enough to escape to her bedroom. + +The next day she awoke with a throbbing headache. + +"You are not going to chapel to-day, I suppose?" said Gwen. + +"No, my head aches too badly. I have never missed before, but to-day I +think I will rest at home." + +"Yes, rest at home, certainly," said Gwen. "You ought to have stopped +at home long ago; in my opinion, it would be more decent." + +Her meaning was too plain, and Valmai's head drooped as she answered: + +"Perhaps it would have been wiser, considering all things." + +"Considering all things, indeed!" sneered Gwen. "Yes, they will turn +you out of the 'Sciet, because when the calf won't go through the +scibor door he has to be pushed out!" And with a toss of her head she +carried the tray away. + +It was a miserable day for Valmai, and not even after events of more +bitterness were able to efface it from her memory. + +She roamed about the house restlessly, and round the garden, which was +beginning to show signs of the budding life which had slept through the +storms and snows of winter. Already in a sheltered corner she detected +the scent of violets, an early daffodil nodded at her, a bee hummed +noisily, and a sweet spring breeze swept over the garden. What +memories it awoke within her! How long ago it seemed since she and +Cardo had roamed together by the Berwen! Years and years ago, surely! +Her reverie was disturbed by Shoni, who, coming back early from chapel, +had found his way into the garden. + +"You wass quite right not to go to chapel this morning," he said. +"Don't go to-night again, neither!" + +"No," said Valmai, "I won't. But why, Shoni?" + +"Why?" he said, "because you better not. John Jones and William +Hughes, the deacons, is bin speaking to master about you, and next week +is the 'Sciet,[1] and you will be turn out." + +Valmai turned a shade paler; she knew the disgrace this excommunication +implied; but she only turned with a sigh towards the house, Shoni +marching before her with the air of a man who felt he had performed a +disagreeable duty. Essec Powell had stopped to dine with a farmer +living near the chapel, and did not return home until near tea-time. +Then burst upon the girl the storm she had so long dreaded; her uncle's +anger had already been roused by his brother's "will," and his feelings +of greed and spite had been augmented by the information imparted to +him by his deacons. + +"How dare you?" he said. His eyes flashed with anger, and his voice +trembled with the intensity of his fury. + +Valmai, who was arranging something on the tea-table, sank down on a +chair beside it; and Gwen, carrying a slice of toast on a fork, came in +to listen. To hear her master speak in such excited tones was an event +so unusual as to cause her not only astonishment but pleasure. + +Shoni, too, was attracted by the loud tones, and stood blocking up the +doorway. + +Valmai flung her arms on the table, and leant her head upon them, +sobbing quietly. + +"Are you not ashamed of yourself?" thundered the old man. "Sitting at +my table, sleeping under my roof, and attending my chapel--and all the +time to be the vile thing that you are! Dear Uncle John, indeed! what +would your dear Uncle John say of you now? You fooled him as you have +fooled me. Do you think I can bear you any longer in the house with +me?" + +There was no answer from Valmai, and the old man, angered by her +silence, clutched her by the arm and shook her violently. + +"Stop there!" said Shoni, taking a step forward, and thrusting his +brawny arm protectingly over the girl's bent head. "Stop there! Use +as many bad words as you like, Essec Powell, but if you dare to touch +her with a finger, I'll show you who is the real master here." + +"She is a deceitful creature, and has brought shame and dishonour on my +name!" stammered the old man. "Am I, a minister of religion, any +longer to harbour in my house such a huzzy? _No_; out you go, madam! +Not another night under my roof!" + +"Will you send her out at this late hour?" said Shoni. "Where is she +to go?" + +"I don't care where she goes! She has plenty of money--money that +ought to belong to me. Let her go where she likes, and let her reap +the harvest that her conduct deserves. Remember, when I come back from +chapel to-night I will expect the house to be cleared of you." + +Valmai rose wearily from the table, and went up the stairs to her own +room, where she hastily gathered a few things together into a light +basket, her heavier things she had packed some time before in readiness +for some such sudden departure as this. + +Meanwhile, in the parlour below the sturdy Shoni faced his irate master. + +"Man," he said, "are you not ashamed of yourself?" + +"How dare you speak to me in that tone?" said the old man. "Because I +owe you two or three hundred pounds you forget your position here." + +"No," said Shoni, "I don't forget, and I'll remind you sooner than you +think if you don't behave yourself! Man! you haven't learnt the ABC +of religion, though you are a 'preacher.' Christ never taught you that +way of treating a fallen woman. Shame upon you! And your own +brother's child! But I'll see she's taken care of, poor thing! And +the villain who has brought this misery upon her shall feel the weight +of this fist if ever he returns to this country; but he won't; he has +got safe away, and she has to bear the shame, poor thing! Wait till I +tell the 'Vicare du' what I think of his precious son." + +"The 'Vicare du'?" said the old man, turning white with rage. "Do you +mean to say that his son has been the cause of this disgrace? I'll +thrash her within an inch of her life!" and he made a rush towards the +door. + +"Sit down," said Shoni, taking him by the arm and pushing him back into +his easy-chair, "sit down, and calm yourself, before you stand up and +preach and pray for other people. Tis for yourself you ought to pray." + +"True, Shoni, true. I am a miserable sinner like the rest, but don't +let me see that girl again." + +"Put her out of your thoughts," said Shoni; "I'll see to her." And as +Valmai came silently down the stairs, he opened the front door for her, +and quietly took her basket from her. + +"Well, howyr bâch!" said Gwen, looking after them, "there's attentions! +We'd better all walk in the wrong path!" and she banged the door +spitefully, and returned to the parlour to arrange her master's tea. + +"And, now, where are you going to, my dear?" said Shoni kindly. "Will +you come to Abersethin? Jane, my sister, will give you lodgings; she +is keeping a shop there." + +"No, no, Shoni," said the girl, "you are kind, indeed, and I will never +forget your kindness; but I will go to Nance, on the island; she will +take me in, I know." + +"Will she?" said Shoni. "Then you could not go to a better place. +'Tis such lonesome place, the pipple will forget you there." + +"Oh, I hope so," said Valmai; "that is all I desire." + +"The tide will be down. We can get there easy, only 'tis very cold for +you." + +"No, I like the fresh night-wind." + +"Well, my dear," said Shoni, "I daresay your uncle will be shamed of +himself to-morrow, and will be wanting you to kom back. I will bring +the gig for you; 'tis a long walk." + +"No, never, Shoni; I will never go back there again, so don't bring the +gig for me; but if you will kindly send my big box to the Rock Bridge, +I will send somebody across for it." + +"'S' no need for you to do that. I will take it down to the shore on +the whilbare and row it over in Simon Lewis's boat. I will kom before +dawn tomorrow, then no one will know where you are. I'll put it out on +the rocks before Nance's house and carry it up to her door." + +"Thank you, thank you, Shoni; but wouldn't tonight be better?" + +"Oh, no; Sunday to-night," said Shoni, in quite another tone. + +He waited until he saw Nance's door opened in response to Valmai's +timid knock, and then made his way back over the Rock Bridge at once +before the tide turned. + +When Nance opened her door and saw the figure of a woman standing +there, she was at first surprised, for the dress struck her at once as +not being that of a peasant. + +"Nance, fâch! it is I!" said Valmai. "You will let me in?" + +"Let you in! yes, indeed. Haven't I been longing to see you all day! +Come in, my child, from this bitter wind; come in and get warm. I see +you have brought your basket, that means you are going to stay the +night. Right glad I am. You will have the little bed in the corner. +Keep your red cloak on, dear little heart, because the wind is blowing +in cold here at nights, and you have been used to warm rooms. I am +well used to cold, and sickness, and discomfort." + +"But, Nance--" and then the terrible revelation had to be made, the +truth had to be told, and then the loving arms were clasped round the +sorrowful girl, and words of comfort and hope were whispered into her +ear. No reproaches, no cruel taunts here; nothing but the warmth of +human sympathy, and the loving forgiveness of a tender pure woman. + +In the early dawn, while Valmai still slept, Shoni's "yo-hoy!" was +heard from the rocks, through which he was guiding his boat. Nance +opened her door, and, in the gray of the morning, the "big box" was +brought in and safely deposited in the tiny bedroom, which it nearly +filled. + +"Good-bye," said Shoni. "Take care of her, and if she wants anything +get it for her, and remember I will pay you." And he rowed away, and +was busily ploughing when Gwen went out to milk the cows in the morning. + +"Where is she gone?" she asked. "That shameful girl." + +"Gone away," said Shoni shortly, and Gwen knew it was useless trying to +get anything more out of him. + +Thus Valmai slipped quietly out of her old life, though for some time +she was the subject of much gossip in the neighbourhood. + +It was not long before Shoni found an opportunity of speaking to the +Vicar, and as he saw the effect of his tidings upon the cold, hard man, +a feeling of pity stirred within him. + +"Is this all news to you?" he said. "Didn't you know that your son was +haunting the footsteps of this innocent girl, to bring her to ruin?" + +"Had I known," said the Vicar, in a stern voice, "that my son held any +communication with the Methodist preacher's family, however innocent it +might be, I would have closed my doors against him." + +"Where is he?" asked Shoni, clenching his fist. + +"I don't know," said the Vicar, turning away. + +Shoni called after him, "When he comes back he'll feel the weight of +this fist, if it's twenty years to come." + + + +[1] Society meeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"THE BABIES' CORNER." + +A glorious summer was once more brooding over sea and land, when one +morning, in Nance's cottage, a feeble wail was heard; a sound which +brought a flood of happiness to Valmai, for nothing could wholly crush +the joyous welcome of a mother's heart. For a little while the past +months of sorrow and weariness were forgotten. The bitter +disappointment caused by Cardo's silence, lying deep below the surface, +was of so mysterious a nature that she scarcely found words to express +it even to herself. That he was false, that he had forgotten her, +never entered her mind. Some dire misfortune had befallen him; some +cruel fate detained him. Was it sickness? Was it death? There was +nothing for her but to bear and to wait; and God had sent this tiny +messenger of love to help and comfort her in her weary waiting. She +still believed that Cardo would return; he had promised, and if he were +living he would keep his promise--of this she felt certain. Secure +from the sneers and scornful glances of the world, alone in Nance's +cottage, her heart awoke afresh to the interests of life. Her baby boy +was bright and strong, and she watched with delight his growing +likeness to Cardo; the black hair, the black eyes, and the curve on the +rosebud mouth, which reminded her so much of his smile. Nance wondered +much at the girl's cheerfulness, and sometimes felt it her duty to +remind her, by look or tone, of the sorrow connected with her child's +birth. + +"Look at him, Nance. See these lovely little feet, and there's strong +he is!" + +"Yes, druan bâch,[1] he is a beautiful boy, indeed," she would answer +with a sigh, drawing her wrinkled finger over the fresh soft cheek. + +Valmai began to chafe at the want of brightness which surrounded her +little one's life. She was proud of him, and wished to take him into +the village. + +"No, my child," said Nance gently, "you had better not." + +"Why not?" was on Valmai's lips, but she hesitated. A deep blush +crimsoned her face. "My boy has nothing to be ashamed of," she said, +with a proud toss of her head. + +"When is he to be christened?" was Nance's next question. + +"September." + +"September!" gasped the old woman, "he will be three months old; and +what if anything should happen to him before then?" + +"Nothing _shall_ happen to him," said Valmai, folding him to her heart. +"My life and my body are larger than his, and they will both have to go +before any harm reaches him." + +"There's a foolish thing to say," said Nance, "and I wonder at you, +merch i. You ought to know by this time that we are clay in the hands +of the Potter. Little heart, he ought to be christened, and have a +name of his own." + +"He can be 'Baby' till September, and then he will be christened." + +"And why, September, child?" + +Here Valmai took refuge in that silence which had been her only +resource since Cardo's departure. She would be perfectly silent. She +would make no answer to inquiries or taunts, but would wait patiently +until he returned. September! What glowing pictures of happiness the +word brought before her mind's eye. Once more to stroll with Cardo by +Berwen banks! Once more to linger in the sunshine, and rest in the +shade; to listen to the Berwen's prattling, to the whispering of the +sea-breeze. Such happiness, she thought, was all in store for her when +Cardo came home in September; and the words, "When Cardo comes home in +September," rang in her ears, and filled her heart and soul. Yes, the +long weary months of waiting, the sorrow and the pain, the cruel words, +and the sneering glances, were all coming to an end. She had kept her +promise, and had never spoken a word to implicate Cardo, or to suggest +that the bond of marriage had united them. He would come home, at +latest in a year, and remove every sorrow; and life would be one long +shining path of happiness from youth to age. + +The light returned to her eyes, and the rose to her cheek; her step was +once more light and springy, as she paced the lonely shore, dressed in +her favourite white serge, and carrying her little white-robed baby in +her arms. She was an object of great interest to the inhabitants of +the fishing village on the other side of the island, and they often +found an excuse (more especially the young sailor lads) to pass by the +cottage, and to stop at the open door for a drink of water or a chat +with Nance. They were as loud in their condemnation of her faithless +lover as in admiration of her beauty and pleasant manners. + +Once more life seemed full of promise and hope for her, until one day +when the bay was glistening in the sunshine, and the sea-gulls, like +flecks of snow, flew about the rocks; the soft waves plashing gently +between the boulders, a little cloud arose on her horizon. Her baby +was fretful and feverish, and Nance had roused her fears. + +"He is too fat, merch i," she said, "and if he had any childish illness +it would go hard with him." + +Valmai had taken fright at once. + +"Can you take care of him, Nance, while I go to Abersethin and fetch +Dr. Hughes?" she asked. + +"Yes, but don't be frightened, cariad; I daresay he will laugh at us, +and say there is nothing the matter with the child." + +"Being laughed at does not hurt one," said Valmai, as she tied on her +hat. "I will bring him back with me if possible." + +She took a long look at the baby, who lay with flushed face on Nance's +knees, and ran with all speed across the Rock-Bridge, from which the +tide was just receding, up the straggling street of Abersethin, and +through the shady lane, which led to the doctor's house. + +There was great peering and peeping from the kitchen window, as Valmai +made her progress between the heaps of straw in the farm-yard to the +back door, which stood open. The doctor's wife, who had her arms up to +her elbows in curds and whey, looked up from her cheese-tub as she +appeared at the door. + +"Dear me, Miss Powell! Well, indeed, what's the matter?" + +"Oh, it's my baby, Mrs. Hughes! Can Dr. Hughes come with me at once?" + +"There's a pity, now," said Mrs. Hughes; "he is gone to Brynderyn. Mr. +Wynne is not well. Grieving, they say, about his son." + +Valmai blushed, and Mrs. Hughes was pleased with her success. + +"When will he be back, d' you think?" + +"Not till evening, I'm afraid. But there's Mr. Francis, the +assistant--shall I call him? he is very clever with children. Here he +is. Will you go with Miss Powell, to see--h'm--a baby which she is +taking a great interest in on Ynysoer?" + +"Yes, certainly," said the young assistant, colouring, for he had heard +Valmai's story, and never having seen her, was now rather bewildered by +her beauty, and the awkwardness of the situation. + +"Oh, thank you; can you come at once?" said Valmai. + +"At once," said the young man. "Is the child very ill?" + +"Indeed, I hope not," said Valmai; "he is very flushed and restless." + +"Whose child is it?" + +"Good-bye, Mrs. Hughes. It is mine," she added, in a clear voice, as +they left the kitchen door together. + +"Wel, anwl, anwl! there's impidence," said one of the servants, looking +after them. "It is mine! As bold as brass. Well, indeed!" + +"Yes, I must say," said her mistress, with a sniff, "she might show a +little more shamefacedness about it." + +"There's a beauty, she is," said Will the cowman, coming in. + +"Beauty, indeed!" said the girl. "A pink and white face like a doll!" + +"Her beauty has not done her much good, whatever," said Mrs. Hughes, as +she finished her curds and dried her arms. + +Meanwhile Valmai and the doctor were walking rapidly down the lane to +the shore. + +"Dan, will you take us across?" said Valmai to a man who stood leaning +against the corner of the Ship Inn. + +"With every pleasure, miss fâch; you've been out early," he said, as he +pushed out his boat, and, seeing the doctor--"if you please, miss, I +hope there's nobody ill at Nance's?" + +"Yes," said Valmai, hesitating, "the little one is ill." + +She did not say, "my baby," as she had done at the doctor's. At the +first contact with the world beyond Ynysoer, where she had been so long +secluded and sheltered, a feeling of nervous shyness began to +over-shadow her. + +"Dear, dear!" was all Dan's answer, + +Once on the island, Mr. Francis found it difficult to keep up with +Valmai's hurrying steps. He was full of pity for the beautiful girl +beside him, so young and so friendless, and was anxious to serve her, +and to cure her child if possible. + +As they entered the cottage together, Nance endeavoured gently to +prevent Valmai's approaching the child. + +"Not you, my dear, not you; let the doctor see him." + +Mr. Francis was already attending to the little sufferer. + +"No," he said, looking backwards, "not you, Miss Powell; let me manage +him." + +Valmai turned white to the lips, and, gently putting the old woman +aside, took her place at the bedside, where a pitiful sight met her +eyes. Her little one lay in the terrible throes of "convulsions," and +again the doctor tried to banish Valmai from the scene. + +"Let me be," she said, in a quiet voice, which astonished the young +man. "Let me be; I am used to trouble." And passing her arm under the +little struggling frame, she supported it until the last gasp put an +end to its sufferings. + +Mr. Francis took the child into his own arms and laid it on the bed, +turning his attention to Valmai, who had fallen fainting on the floor. + +"Poor thing! poor thing!" said the tender-hearted young man. "It is a +pity she cannot remain unconscious." + +But he applied the usual restoratives, and she soon opened her eyes, +while Nance straightened the folds of the little night-gown with loving +fingers, tears coursing each other down her wrinkled face. + +"Oh, dear heart! how will she bear it?" + +Mr. Francis was silently bathing the girl's forehead. + +"You are better now?" he asked. + +"Yes," she said; "thank you. You have been very kind, but do not +trouble to stay longer; I am quite well," and she slowly rose from the +settle. + +"I will go now," said the young man. "You would like to be alone, but +I will call in the afternoon. You will want someone to--to--make +arrangements for you." + +"Arrangements? To have my little one buried? Yes, yes, of course. I +shall be thankful, indeed." + +"Here, or at Penderin?" + +"Oh, here--in the 'rock' churchyard." + +"I will go at once," and he went out, gently closing the door upon the +two women in their sorrow. + +In the afternoon he came again, and, being a man of very warm feelings, +dreaded the scene of a woman's tears and sobs, though he longed to +soothe and comfort the girl who so much interested him. But there were +no tears or wailings awaiting him. + +Valmai sat in the low rush chair in stony despair, her hands clasped on +her lap, her face white as her dress, her blue eyes dry, and with a +mute, inquiring gaze in them, as though she looked around for an +explanation of this fresh misery. + +He did not tell her more than was necessary of his interview with the +Vicar. The child was supposed to be illegitimate as well as +unbaptised, and could not, therefore, be allowed to sleep his last +sleep in the company of the baptised saints. + +Old Shôn, the sexton, was already digging the little grave in a corner +of the churchyard relegated to such unconsidered and unwelcomed beings +as this. However, it was a sunny corner, sheltered from the sea-wind, +and the docks and nettles grew luxuriantly there. + +Such dry-eyed, quiet grief amongst the emotional Welsh was new to the +doctor, and he knew that if tears did not come to her relief her health +would suffer, so he gently tried to make her talk of her little one. + +"I saw you had tried a hot bath, or I would have recommended it," he +said. + +"Yes, Nance had." + +"I truly sympathise with you; he was a fine child." + +"Yes, he is a beautiful child," said Valmai. + +"I am sorry to wound your feelings, but what day would you wish him to +be buried?" + +"Oh, any day; it makes no difference now." + +"To-day is Friday. Shall we say Monday, then?" + +"Yes, Monday will do. At what time?" said Valmai. + +"At four o'clock." + +Nance was crying silently. + +"Mrs. Hughes wants to know if you will come and stay with her till +after Monday. I have my gig at Abersethin, and can row you over now." + +Valmai smiled, and the sadness of that smile remained in Mr. Francis' +memory. + +"No," she said, shaking her head slowly, "I will not leave my baby +until he is buried, but thank her for me, and thank you, oh, so much. +I did not know there was so much kindness left in the world." + +As she spoke the tears gathered in her eyes, and, throwing her arms +over the feet of the little dead child, she rested her head upon them, +and broke into long, deep sobs. + +Mr. Francis, more content, went quietly out of the house, and did not +see Valmai again until on Monday he met the funeral in the churchyard. +Valmai, to the horror of Nance and her friends, wore her usual white +dress. She had a bunch of white jessamine in her hand, and, as the +little coffin disappeared from sight, she showered the flowers upon it. +Nance was too infirm to accompany her, so that she stood alone beside +the grave, although surrounded by the fisher folk of the island. She +sobbed bitterly as she heard the heavy clods fall on the coffin, and +when at last everything was over, and it was time to move away, she +looked round as if for a friend; and Mr. Francis, unable to resist the +pleading look, pushed his way towards her, and, quietly drawing her arm +within his own, led her homewards down the grassy slope to the shore, +over the rough, uneven sand, and in at the humble cottage door. Nance +received her with open arms, into which Valmai sank with a passionate +burst of tears, during which Mr. Francis went out unnoticed. + + + +[1] Poor little fellow. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +UNREST. + +The summer months had passed away, and September had come and gone, and +yet Cardo had not arrived. Valmai had trusted with such unswerving +faith that in September all her troubles would be over--that Cardo +would come to clear her name, and to reinstate her in the good opinion +of all her acquaintances; but as the month drew to its close, and +October's mellow tints began to fall on all the country-side, her heart +sank within her, and she realised that she was alone in the world, with +no friend but Nance to whom to turn for advice or sympathy. + +A restless feeling awoke in her heart--a longing to be away from the +place where every scene reminded her of her past happiness and her +present sorrow. Every day she visited the little grave in the +churchyard, and soon that corner of the burying-ground, which had once +been the most neglected, became the neatest and most carefully tended. +For her own child's sake, all the other nameless graves had become +sacred to Valmai; she weeded and trimmed them until the old sexton was +proud of what he called the "babies' corner." A little white cross +stood at the head of the tiny grave in which her child lay, with the +words engraved upon it, "In memory of Robert Powell ----." A space was +left at the end of the line for another name to be added when Cardo +came home, and the words, "Born June the 30th; died August the 30th," +finished the sad and simple story. Nance, too, who seemed to have +revived a good deal latterly, often brought her knitting to the sunny +corner, and Valmai felt she could safely leave her grassy garden to the +care of her old friend. + +"You are better, Nance," she said one day, when she had been sitting +long on the rocks gazing out to sea, in one of those deep reveries so +frequent with her now, "and if I paid Peggi 'Bullet' for living with +you and attending to you, would you mind my going away? I feel I +cannot rest any longer here; I must get something to do--something to +fill my empty hands and my empty heart." + +"No, calon fâch," said Nance the unselfish, "I will not mind at all, I +am thinking myself that it is not good for you to stay here brooding +over your sorrow. Peggi 'Bullet' and I have been like sisters since +the time when we were girls, and harvested together, and went together +to gather wool on the sheep mountains. You have made me so rich, too, +my dear, that I shall be quite comfortable; but you will come and see +me again before very long, if I live?" + +"Oh, yes, Nance. People who have asthma often live to be very old. +You know that, wherever I am, I will be continually thinking of you, +and of the little green corner up there in the rock churchyard; and I +will come back sometimes to see you." + +"But where will you go, my dear?" + +"To my sister. Ever since this trouble has come upon me I have longed +for a sister's love, and now I think I will go to her I will tell her +all my troubles, and ask her to help me to find employment." + +"Perhaps she has never heard of you--what do I know?--and perhaps she +will spurn you when she hears your story. If she does, come back to +old Nance, my dear; her arms will always be open to receive you. Yes, +begin the world again. Caton pawb! you are only twenty now You have +your life before you; you may marry, child, in spite of all that has +happened." + +"_Nance!_" said Valmai, and the depth of reproach and even injury in +her voice made plain to Nance that she must never suggest such a thing +again. + +"Don't be angry with me, my dear!" + +"Angry with you! No, I am only thinking how little you know--how +little you know. But where shall I find my sister? You said once you +had her address, where is it?" + +"Oh, anwl! I don't know. Somewhere in the loft--" and Nance looked up +at the brown rafters. "I haven't seen it for twenty years, but it's +sure to be there, I remember, then somebody wrote it out for me, and I +tied it up with a packet of other papers. They are in an old teapot on +the top of the wall under the thatch, just there, my child, over the +door. You must get the ladder and go up. It is many a long year since +I have climbed up there." + +But Valmai's agile limbs found no great difficulty in reaching the +brown boards which lay loosely across the rafters. + +"Now, straight along, my dear." + +"It is very dark, but I have found it," and coming down the ladder +backwards, she placed the cracked and dust-begrimed teapot on the +table. "Oh, how brown and faded the papers are! Nance, what is this? +I do believe it is your marriage certificate!" + +"Very likely, my dear, and you will find the bill for my husband's +funeral, too; and a pattern of my scarlet 'mantell,' the one I nursed +my children in; oh! I thought a lot of that, and here it is still, you +see, folded over my shoulders." + +"What is this? You had bad ink, but I think it must be the address. +Let me see, here is 'Mrs. Besborough Power.'" + +"I knew it was a hard, long name," said the old woman. + +"'Carne,' but the last word, oh, Nance, what is it? It begins with M +o, and ends with r e--r e is the end of the shire, of course. +Merionithshire? No, it is M o, so must be Monmouthshire or +Montgomeryshire, stay, there is a t in the middle. Mrs. Besborough +Power, Carne--I will try Carne anyway," and next day she wrote to her +sister addressing the letter: + +Miss Gwladys Powell, + c/o Mrs. Besborough Power, + Carne, + Montgomeryshire. + + +In a few days her letter was returned. + +"Not known," said Valmai; "then we have not read the address aright. I +will go myself, Nance. I will go next week." And the following days +were occupied with arrangements for her departure and Nance's comfort +during her absence. + +On one of these latter days Mr. Francis came in. + +"I am glad you have come to-day," said Valmai, holding out her hand. +"I wanted to thank you before I left for all your kindness to me, and +to ask you to continue to see Nance sometimes." + +"Are you going to leave us, then?" said the young man, in a +disappointed tone. + +He had felt deeply interested in the girl who bore her desertion and +sorrow with such patience, and had unconsciously been looking forward +to a continuance of the friendship begun between them. + +"You are not going away for long, I hope?" + +"Yes, for long; possibly for ever, except for a hasty visit to Nance +sometimes I shall trust her to you, Mr. Francis, and I hope you will +be as kind to her as you have been to me." + +"Certainly I will; but do not talk of kindness. It has been a great +privilege to me, and a pleasure to know you, and I hope in the future +if I can be of any service to you, you will let me know." + +Valmai took out her purse nervously, she hesitated to speak of +remuneration to this kind friend. + +"You are not going to wound me," he said, gently laying his hand on her +purse, "by offering to pay me?" + +"No, no," said Valmai; "only for the future, for your care of Nance." + +"There will be nothing much to do for her, I think; just a call in +passing and a few cheering words, and _they_ don't cost much." And he +rose to go. + +"Good-bye, then," said Valmai. "I shall never forget your kindness." + +"Good-bye," said Mr. Francis, holding her hand for a moment. He seemed +about to say something more, but changed his mind, and abruptly left +the house. + +The next day was Valmai's last in Nance's cottage. She rose early, +and, after her simple breakfast, put on her white hat, and, kissing the +old woman tenderly, said: + +"I am going out for a few hours; there are one or two people I want to +see--Peggi Bullet, and Shôn, the sexton. Then I am going to cross the +Rock Bridge." + +She did not tell Nance that her chief object was to pay a last visit to +her old haunts by the Berwen. After making all arrangements with Peggi +Bullet and Shôn, she took her way across the bridge. The year that had +passed since Cardo had left her, with its varied experiences and +trials, the bitter sense of loneliness and desertion, the pains and the +delights of motherhood, the desolation and sorrow of bereavement, all +had worked a change in the simple girl's character, that now surprised +even herself, and she thankfully realised that her troubles had at all +events generated a strength which enabled her to act for herself and +attend to matters of business which had before been unapproachable +mysteries to her. She shrank a little as she met the bold, admiring +gaze of a knot of sailors, who stood at the door of the Ship Inn, where +she explained to the buxom landlady that she wanted the car to meet her +at the Rock Bridge on the following morning at ten. + +"Yes, miss fâch, and Jackie will drive you safe; but, indeed, there's +long time since we saw you! You never come to see us now, and there's +many warm hearts on this side the Rock Bridge as on the island, I can +tell you." + +"Yes, indeed, I know, and I thank you all," said Valmai, as she went +out again into the sunshine. + +The sailors were gone now, and she was free to make her way over the +golden sands so often trodden by her and Cardo. + +Every boulder, every sandy nook, every wave that broke, brought its own +sad memories. + +She turned up the path by the Berwen, which led to the old church, +carefully avoiding even a glance at the tangled path on the other side +of the river, which she and Cardo had made their own. + +Pale and dry-eyed, she pressed her hands on her bosom as if to still +the aching throbbing within. Every step that brought her nearer to the +old church increased the dull aching that weighed her down; but still +she pressed on, longing, yet dreading, to see the spot on which she and +Cardo had made their vows together on that sunny morning which seemed +so long ago. + +As she entered the porch, she disturbed the white owl, who emerged from +the ivy with a flap of her great wings, and sailed across the Berwen. + +The worm-eaten door of the church stood wide open. Entering the aisle +with light footsteps, she approached the altar rails. The light was +very dim in the chancel, as every year the ivy grew thicker over the +windows. Surely in that dark corner within the rails some black object +stood, something blacker and darker than the shadow itself, and she +stood still for a moment, startled. Yes, there was a sound of heavy +breathing and the rustling of paper. She drew nearer, even close to +the altar rails, and, as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light, +she saw a man, who stooped over a musty, tattered book. + +The sound of her footstep attracted his attention, and as he rose from +his stooping position, Valmai recognised the marble face and the black +eyebrows of the "Vicar du." + +He was looking at one of the leaves in the old registry book, and for a +moment as he raised his eyes to the silent, white figure before the +altar, he took her for a ghostly visitant; but Valmai, with a sudden +inrush of recognition, clasped her hands, a faint exclamation escaped +her lips, and the "Vicare du" knew it was no spirit who stood trembling +before him. For a moment both were speechless--then pointing to the +page before him, he asked in a husky voice, "What is the meaning of +this?" and from beginning to end he read, with this strange hoarseness +in his voice, the entry of his son's marriage to Valmai. Not a word +escaped him, not even the date, nor the names of the witnesses. Then +he turned his black eyes upon her once more, and repeated his question. + +"What is the meaning of this? I have heard of your shame, of your +dishonour--of the disgraceful way in which you have entrapped my poor +boy. But what is this farce enacted here? How dare you enter the +House of God and forge this ridiculous statement? Where is my son, +whom you have lured to destruction?" + +Valmai was shaken like a reed by this sudden and unexpected meeting, +and the outburst of feeling exhibited by the "Vicare du" awoke in her +own heart such a tumult of doubt and suspense, that she could no longer +restrain the tears which for days she had kept in check; long, silent +sobs heaved her bosom, she covered her face with her hands, and the +tears trickled through her fingers, but she made no answer. + +"Speak, girl," said the Vicar, "have you nothing to say for yourself? +no excuse to make for your conduct? My son and I lived in perfect +happiness together until you came to this neighbourhood; now you have +led a young man on to his ruin and broken the heart of an old man--for +this," he said, tapping the register with a trembling finger, "this is +a lie--a forgery--a foolish piece of deceit, not worth the paper on +which it is written!" + +Still Valmai spoke not a word. Oh, what happiness it would have been +to throw herself at the old man's feet, and to confess everything, +here, where Cardo and she had plighted their troth--to have told him of +her ignorance of his fate, of her distracted longing for his return. +Surely, surely he would have forgiven her! She was torn with +conflicting feelings. But, no! Had she borne the contempt and scorn +of all her acquaintances and friends to break down now, and disclose +her secret to the man of all others from whom Cardo desired to keep the +knowledge of it? No, she would die rather than divulge it--and with an +earnest prayer for strength she remained silent, for in silence alone +she had taken refuge since her troubles had come upon her. + +"Speak, girl, I implore you! Tell me, is this true?" His voice +trembled, and he came a step nearer to her. "Tell me that it is true, +and I will forgive you and him, for I shall then have a hope that his +love for you will bring him home, though he has no love for me." And +completely overcome by his feeling's he dropped on his knees by the +table, and, leaning his head on his arms, broke into a torrent of +tears. "Oh, Cardo, Cardo, my boy!" he cried. "Come back to me." + +There was no answer from Valmai, and when he raised his head again she +was gone. At the words, "Oh! Cardo, Cardo," she had fled down the +aisle, out into the golden sunshine, down the rugged path to the shore, +where behind a huge boulder she flung herself down on the sands, crying +out in a long pent-up agony of tears, "Oh Cardo, Cardo, come back!" + +The morning hours passed on, and noontide drew near. + +The "Vicare du" emerged from the church porch, pale and calm as usual. +He looked at his watch as he came out into the sunshine, and followed +the same path over which Valmai had sped an hour before. He had +replaced the old registry book in the rusty, iron chest, had closed the +door methodically, and when he had disappeared through the trees the +white owl had flapped back into the tower, and the dimly-lighted church +which had been the scene of such stormy human feelings was once more +silent and deserted. + +At noontide, too, Valmai had regained her composure, and had risen from +her attitude of despair with a pale face and eyes which still showed +traces of their storm of tears. + +Next day she bade her faithful Nance good-bye, leaving with her a +promise to write as soon as she was settled in some place that she +could call "home," and to return for a few days in the spring. + +Arrived at Caer Madoc, she took her place in the coach in which she had +journeyed a year before; and reaching the station at Blaennôs, soon +arrived at Fordsea. Leaving her luggage at the station, she made her +way into the well-remembered town. There was the white-flashing +harbour, here was the crooked Reuben Street, and here the dear little +house once occupied by her uncle, where she and Cardo had spent their +happy honeymoon. Yes, she remembered it all; but she held her head up +bravely, and crushed down every tender memory, hardening her heart, and +setting herself to attend to the business of the hour. + +In the broad High Street she easily found the shining brass plate which +bore the words, "Mr. William Lloyd, Solicitor," and she entered the +office with as business-like an air as she could assume. + +"Can I see Mr. William Lloyd himself?" + +"You see him, madam; I am he," said a middle-aged, pleasant-faced man, +who met her in the doorway. "I was just going out, but if your +business is not likely to keep us long--" + +"I don't think so," said Valmai. "I am the niece of Captain Powell, +who used to live in Reuben Street. He once told me you were his +lawyer, and I have heard that in his will he has left me some money." + +"Bless me! You are his niece Valmai! Of course. I have been +wondering when you would turn up, and was really beginning to think I +must advertise for you. I have written to your uncle at Abersethin, +but have had no reply." + +"He never writes if he can help it. I am very ignorant of money +matters and business ways," said Valmai, as Mr. Lloyd handed her a +chair, "but would like to know in plain words how much my dear uncle +has left me, as I am leaving this part of the country to-morrow." + +"Not going out of England, I suppose?" said the lawyer. + +"No, oh no; not even out of Wales." + +"Well, I have your uncle's will here, and I can read it to you at once." + +"No, indeed," said Valmai, "I don't think I want to hear it read. I +know from dear Uncle John's perfect faith in you that I can trust you. +If you will only tell me plainly how much money I can have now, and how +I am to receive it in the future, I shall be quite satisfied; and if I +owe you anything you can deduct it, please." + +Mr. Lloyd smiled and shook his head at this unbusiness-like proposal. + +"Well," he said, "young ladies can't be expected to know much of +business ways, but I should certainly like to go into the accounts with +you at the first opportunity. He has left you the bulk of his +property, the income of which is about 150 pounds a year; and, after +deducting the legacies and my costs and all expenses, I shall have in +hand about 300 pounds for you." + +"Three hundred pounds," said Valmai, "what a lot of money! Could you +take care of it for me, Mr. Lloyd? and let me send to you for it when I +want it," she added nervously. + +"Certainly, my dear young lady, and I will send you a statement of +accounts as soon as possible." + +After a few more business arrangements Valmai left the office, feeling +she had quite acted up to her new _rôle_ of an independent woman of +business. + +Making her way to a quiet hotel, the landlord of which she remembered +had been an intimate acquaintance of her uncle's, she procured a bed +there for the night, and in the morning arose with the feeling that the +dear old past was dead, and that a new and unlovely life lay before her. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE SISTERS. + +In the spacious, handsomely-furnished drawing-room of a large +country-house, two ladies sat on a quiet evening in autumn. The large +bay window looked out over extensive grounds to the blue hills beyond. +In the pale evening sky the crescent moon hung like a silver boat, the +trees in the quiet air looked black as if drawn in ink. In the grate a +large wood fire crackled, which the elder lady seemed much to enjoy as +she rubbed her hands one over another on her knee, and spoke in a low, +purring tone. The younger occupant of the room was a girl about twenty +years of age; she was fair and fragile-looking compared with her portly +companion, who was rather florid in complexion. + +"Put your work away, my dear," said the elder lady; "it is getting too +dark for you to see." + +"This is the last petal, auntie," said the girl, still bending her head +with its wealth of golden hair over her work. At last with a satisfied +"There!" she laid it on the table and turned towards the bay window, +through which might be seen a fair view of the park, with its +undulating knolls and clumps of trees, between which wound in flowing +curves the well-kept drive leading to the high road. + +"You had better ring for the lights, Gwladys," said the elder lady, as +she settled herself to what she called "five minutes' snooze," a +slumber which generally lasted till dinner-time. + +"There is a carriage coming down the drive; what can it be, auntie?" +But auntie was already in dreamland, and Gwladys stood still at the +window watching with curiosity the vehicle which drew nearer and nearer. + +"The fly from the Red Dragon at Monmouth! who can it be?" and her blue +eyes opened wide as she saw alighting from it a girl in a quiet black +travelling dress. "She's young and has golden hair like mine--a +dressmaker, probably, for one of the servants, but she would scarcely +come to the front door." + +Before she had time to conjecture further, the door was opened by a +servant man, who seemed rather flustered as the visitor entered +quickly, unannounced. She had merely asked him, "Miss Gwladys Powell +lives here?" and, receiving an answer in the affirmative, had walked +into the hall and followed the puzzled man to the drawing-room door. + +As she entered the room in the dim twilight, Gwladys stood still with +astonishment, while William so far forgot himself as to stand +open-mouthed with his hand on the door-handle, until Gwladys said, "The +lamps, William," when he disappeared suddenly. + +The visitor stood for one moment frightened and doubtful. + +"I am Valmai," she said, approaching Gwladys with her hands extended. + +"Valmai?" said Gwladys, taking both the offered hands. "I don't know +the name--but--surely, surely, we are sisters! You are my twin-sister. +Oh, I have heard the old story, and have longed for and dreamt of this +meeting all my life," and in a moment the two girls were clasped to +each other's hearts. + +Gwladys seemed more unnerved by the meeting than Valmai, for she +trembled with eagerness as she drew the new-comer nearer to the window, +where the evening light shone upon the fresh pure face, so completely +the image of her own, that both were impelled over and over again to +renew their embraces, and to cling closely together. + +When William entered with the lights, they were seated on the sofa with +clasped hands, and arms thrown round each other's necks. + +"Please, m'm, is the carriage to go or to stay?" + +"Oh, to go--to go, of course," said Gwladys, rising to her feet. + +"I have paid him," said Valmai; "but I couldn't be sure, you know, +whether--whether--" + +"No, darling, of course. Auntie, auntie, awake and see who has come." + +Mrs. Besborough Power blinked lazily. + +"Dinner?" she said. + +"No, no, auntie, not for another hour, it is only seven o'clock; but do +wake up and see who has come." + +But the sight of the strange girl had already recalled her aunt to her +senses; her beady black eyes were fixed upon her, and her high-bridged +nose seemed to be aiding them in their inquiries, as she pressed her +lips together, and sniffed in astonishment. + +"Gwladys," she said, "is it possible that I have invited anyone to +dinner, and then forgotten it?" + +Gwladys had removed her sister's hat, and as she stood now before Mrs. +Power, in the full light of the lamp and the fire, that poor lady was +smitten by the same bewilderment which had taken possession of William +at the front door. She could only ejaculate: + +"Gracious goodness, Gwladys! What is the meaning of this? Who is it, +child? and which are you? Are you this one or that one? For heaven's +sake say something, or I shall be quite confused." + +"It's Valmai, auntie, my twin-sister, though you could not remember her +name, but of whom I have thought often and often. Auntie, you will +welcome her for my sake? Is she not the very image of me? alike--nay, +not so, but the same, the very same, only in two bodies. Oh, Valmai! +Valmai! why have we been separated so long?" and, sinking into a chair, +she trembled with agitation. + +Mrs. Power held her hands out, though not very cordially. She was +beginning to arrange her ideas. + +"Welcome her! Why, of course, of course. How do you do, my dear? +Very glad to see you, I am sure, though I can't think where you have +dropped from. Gwladys, calm yourself; I am surprised at you. I +thought you were in Figi, or Panama, or Macedonia, or some place of +that kind." + +"Patagonia," said Valmai, smiling. "My parents both died there, and I +have come home to live in Wales again--" + +"Well, to be sure," said Mrs. Power, rubbing one hand over another, her +favourite action. "Come, Gwladys, don't cry--don't be silly; as your +sister is here, she will stay with us a week or so. Can you, my dear?" + +"Yes," said Valmai, whose clear mind quickly drew its own conclusions +and formed its own plans. "Yes, indeed, I hoped you would ask me to +stay a week or so; but do not think I am come to be dependent on you. +No, I am well off, but I had an intense longing to see my sister; and +having no ties or claims upon me, I made up my mind to find her out +before I settled down into some new life." + +Alas, poor human nature! The few words, "I am well off," influenced +Mrs. Besborough Power at once in her reception of the friendless girl. + +"Of course, my dear, stay as long as you like. Go upstairs now and +take your things off, and after dinner you shall tell us all your +story." + +And arm-in-arm the two girls left the room, "like twin cherries on a +stalk." The resemblance between them was bewildering; every line of +feature, every tone of colouring was the same. + +"Let us stand together before this cheval glass," said Gwladys, "and +have a good look at each other. Oh, Valmai, my beloved sister, I feel +as if I had known you all my life, and could never bear to part with +you." + +And as they stood side by side before the glass, they were themselves +astonished, puzzled, and amused at the exact likeness of one to the +other. The same broad forehead, in which, at the temples, the blue +veins showed so plainly, the same depth of tenderness in the blue eyes, +the same slender neck, and the same small hands; the only difference +lay in the expression, for over Gwladys's upper lip and half-drooped +eyelids hovered a shade of pride and haughtiness which was absent from +Valmai's countenance. + +"Oh, see," she said playfully, "there is a difference--that little pink +mole on my arm. Valmai, you haven't got it." + +"No," said Valmai, critically examining her wrist, with rather a +dissatisfied look, "I haven't got that; but in everything else we are +just alike. How lovely you are, Gwladys." + +"And you, Valmai, how sweet." And again they embraced each other. + +"I have no dress to change for dinner, dear. Do you dress?" + +"Oh, only just a little, and I won't at all this evening. How strange +we should both be in mourning, too! Mine is for Mrs. Power's sister. +Who are you wearing black for?" + +A hot blush suffused Valmai's face and neck as she answered slowly: + +"I am not in mourning, but thought black would be nice to travel in. I +generally wear white." + +"How strange! so do I," said Gwladys; "white or something very light. +Shall we go down, dear? Would you like a bedroom to yourself, or shall +we sleep together?" + +"Oh, let us sleep together!" + +And with arms thrown over each other's shoulders, they descended the +broad staircase, just as Mrs. Power, in answer to William's summons, +was crossing the hall to the dining-room. + +"Here we are, auntie, or here I am and here is she." + +"Come along, then, my dears." + +"Well, indeed, I never did," said William, when he entered the kitchen; +"no, I never, never did see such a likeness between two young leddies. +They are the same picture as each other! And missus says to me, +'William,' she says, 'this is Miss Gwladys's sister, her twin-sister,' +she says, 'Miss Valmai Powell.' And I couldn't say nothing, if you +believe me, with my eyes as big as saucers. Ach y fi! there's an odd +thing!" + +In the drawing-room after dinner there were endless questions and +answers, each one seeming to find in the other's history a subject of +the deepest interest. Mrs. Besborough Power, especially, with her nose +in the air, sometimes looking over her spectacles, and sometimes under +them, sometimes through them, did not hesitate to question Valmai on +the minutest particulars of her life hitherto--questions which the +latter found it rather difficult to answer without referring to the +last eighteen months. + +"H'm!" said Mrs. Power, for the twentieth time, "and ever since your +father's death you have been living with your uncle?" + +"With my uncles, first one and then the other; and the last few months +with dear Nance, my old nurse." + +"What! Nance Owen? Is she alive still?" + +"Yes; she is, indeed." + +"She must be very old now?" + +"Yes, and frail; but as loving and tender as ever." + +And so on, and so on, until bed-time; and the two girls were once more +together in their bedroom. + +The maid, who was deeply interested in the strange visitor, lingered +about the toilet-table a little unnecessarily, until Gwladys, in a +voice which, though not unkind, showed she was more accustomed to +command than Valmai, said: + +"That will do, thank you, I will do my own hair to-night. My sister +and I wish to talk." And, having dismissed Maria, she drew two cosy +chairs round the wood fire. + +"Come along, Valmai, now we can chat to our heart's content." And +soon, with feet on fender and hair unloosed, the sisters talked and +talked, as if making up for the long years of silence which had divided +them. + +"And how happy that neither of us is married," said Gwladys. "We might +never have met then, dear." + +"Possibly," said Valmai. + +"And what a good thing we haven't the same lover to quarrel about." + +"Yes," said Valmai, rather absently. She was struggling hard with the +tumult of feelings which she had hitherto restrained, endeavouring to +smile and laugh as the occasion required; but now the tide of emotions, +which had been pent up all day, threatened to burst its bonds. + +"What is it, dear?" said Gwladys. "What makes your voice tremble so? +There is something you are hiding from me?" and, flinging herself down +on the hearth-rug at Valmai's feet, she clasped her arms around her +knees, and leant her head on her lap, while Valmai, giving way to the +torrent of tears which had overpowered her, bent her own head over her +sister's until their long unbound hair was mingled together. + +"Oh, Gwladys! Gwladys!" she said, between her sobs, "yes, I have +hidden something from you. Something, oh, everything--the very point +and meaning of my life. And I must still hide it from you. Gwladys, +can you trust me? Can you believe your sister is pure and good when +she tells you that the last eighteen months of her life must be hidden +from you? Not because they contain anything shameful, but because +circumstances compel her to silence." + +The effect of these words upon Gwladys was, at first, to make her rigid +and cold as stone. She drew herself away from her sister, gently but +firmly, and, standing before her with blanched face and parched lips, +said: + +"I thought it was too good to be true; that I, who have so longed for a +sister's love, should have my desire so fully satisfied seemed too good +for earth, and now I see it was. There is a secret between us, a +shadow, Valmai; tell me something more, for pity's sake!" + +"I will tell you all I can, Gwladys, the rest I must keep to myself, +even though you should spurn me and cast me from you to-morrow, for I +have promised one who is dearer to me than life itself, and nothing +shall make me break that promise. Gwladys, I have loved, but--but I +have lost." + +"I know very little of the world," said Gwladys, speaking in cold +tones, "and still less of men; but the little I know of them has made +me despise them. Three times I have been sought in marriage, and three +times I have found something dishonourable in the men who said they +loved me. Love! What do men know of love? Fortunately my heart was +untouched; but you, Valmai, have been weaker. I see it all--oh! to my +sorrow I see it all! You have believed and trusted, and you have been +betrayed? Am I right?" + +"Yes, and no; I have loved and I have trusted, but I have not been +betrayed. He will come back to me, Gwladys--I know he will, some time +or other--and will explain the meaning of this long silence. Meanwhile +I must go on bearing and waiting." + +"Look into my eyes, Valmai," said Gwladys, kneeling once more before +her sister. + +And Valmai looked full into the blue orbs, the counterpart of her own, +with fearless, open gaze. + +"Now speak," said Gwladys, taking her sister's hand, and holding it on +her own fast-beating heart; "now tell me, here as we kneel together +before the All-seeing God and His holy angels, do you know of any +reason why we two, when we have dropped these bodies, should not stand +in equal purity before the Throne of God?" + +"Before God there is none! Of course, Gwladys, my heart is full of the +frailties and sin belonging to our human nature; but I understand what +you mean; and again I say, there is none!" + +"I will believe you, darling," said her sister, throwing her arms +around her, "I will believe you, dearest; I will take you into my warm +heart, and I will cling to you for ever!" + +"But I must go, Gwladys; I want to find some home where I can make +myself useful, and where I can fill my mind and hands with work +until--until--" + +"Until when, dear?" said Gwladys. + +Valmai rose with a troubled face and tearful eyes, and, stretching out +her hands, she gazed over them into the far distance, with a dreamy +look which gradually changed into a brightening smile. + +"Until the happy future comes! It will come some day, Gwladys, and +then you will be glad you trusted your sister." + +"Then to-night, dear," said Gwladys, "we will bury the last eighteen +months. I will never think of them or allude to them until you choose +to enlighten me. One thing only, Valmai," she added, "forget _that +man_--learn to despise him as I do; here is the fourth on my list! Let +us go to bed, dear; we are both tired." + +And the two sisters were soon sleeping side by side, so much alike in +every feature and limb, that no one looking at them would have been +able to distinguish one from the other. + +"What a strange thing," said Mrs. Power, a few days afterwards, as they +roamed about the grounds together, "that the Merediths should have +written to me just the day before you came! My dear, I think it will +be a delightful home for you. True, Mifanwy is an invalid, and you +will be her companion; but then they are advised to amuse her as much +as possible, and she sees a good deal of life, often going about from +one place to another. Let me see! they will get my letter to-morrow, +and I have no doubt they will write by return of post; but we can't +spare you for a month, dear. You know you promised us that!" And the +old lady purred on, walking between the twins, and much interested in +her plans. + +"Yes, indeed," said Valmai, "I shall be thankful for such a situation; +it is just what I would have chosen for myself, whatever." + +"'Whatever' and 'indeed' so often is very Welshy, my love," said Mrs. +Power, with a sniff of disapproval. + +"Yes, I am afraid, indeed," said the girl; "but you should have heard +me two years ago. I could scarcely speak any English then!" + +"Well, my dear, I hope Gwladys won't catch your Welsh accent; but the +Merediths have it very strongly themselves." + +"Oh! I hope they will like me," said Valmai. "I must not count my +chickens before they are hatched!" + +But they were hatched, and in this matter everything turned out well +for Valmai. + +The Merediths, who lived in an adjoining county, had for some time been +looking out for a companion for their eldest and invalid daughter. +They were delighted, therefore, when Mrs. Besborough Power's letter +arrived telling them of Gwladys's meeting with her twin-sister, and of +the latter's desire to find some situation of usefulness; and in less +than a month Valmai was domiciled amongst them, and already holding a +warm place in their regard. + +Mifanwy opened her heart to her at once, and seemed every day to revive +under the influence of her bright companionship; and her parents, +delighted with the change which they began to perceive in their +daughter, heaped kindnesses and attention upon Valmai, who was soon +looked upon as one of the family; even Gwen and Winifred, the two +younger girls, taking to her in a wonderful manner. + +Yes! Valmai was outwardly happy and fortunate. She hid from every eye +the sorrow which lay at the bottom of her heart like a leaden weight, +and little did those around her guess that every night, in the privacy +of her own room, she drew from her bosom a plain gold ring, and, laying +it on the bed before her, prayed over it with clasped hands and +streaming eyes. + +Gwladys and she corresponded very regularly, and she frequently went to +Carne for a few days' change when Mifanwy was well enough to spare her; +always regretted by the whole family when she left, and warmly welcomed +when she returned. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +DISPERSING CLOUDS. + +Two months had slipped away, and still Charles Williams remained a +patient in the Westlake Hospital at Sydney. At length, after a +consultation of the doctors, it was proposed that he should be +consigned to the workhouse infirmary. + +"We can't keep him here forever," said Dr. Emerton; "and as all the +beds will be wanted with this outbreak of diphtheria, I see nothing +else to be done." + +"Well," said Dr. Belton, "I am deeply interested in his case, and if +you agree, I will take him under my own particular charge. You know I +have a few rooms set apart for such cases in my house at Brookmere. I +will take him there, and see what I can do for him." + +"Very kind of you, I am sure," said Dr. Emerton. "You can afford that +sort of thing--I can't. I should have sent him to the infirmary, where +he would be under Dr. Hutchinson's care; but, of course, he will be +better off in your private hospital." + +And one day in the following week, Dr. Belton took home with him the +invalid, whose case he had already described to his wife and children, +so that when the stooping figure emerged from the carriage leaning +heavily on the arm of the nurse who accompanied him, he was received +with kindness and warmth, Mrs. Belton herself meeting him with +outstretched hands of welcome. + +"Very glad to see you, Mr. Williams. You will soon get better here, I +think." + +Cardo looked at her with no intelligence in his eyes. "Yes, thank +you," was all he said, as he passed with his nurse into the bright, +cosy room relegated to the use of the patients, who were so fortunate, +or so unfortunate as to arouse more than usual interest in Dr. Belton's +mind. + +"Now, nurse," said the doctor, "give him a good tea, and a little of +that cold quail, and after tea I will come and have a chat with him." + +Later on in the evening he kept his word and found Cardo sunk in the +depths of an arm-chair, watching with lack-lustre eyes, while the Dr.'s +two boys tried their skill at a game of bagatelle. + +"Well, Williams, and how are you now? tired, eh?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Cardo, turning his eyes upon the doctor with a look of +bewilderment, which reminded him of the look of dumb inquiry in the +eyes of a troubled dog. + +"You will like this better than the hospital I am sure. Do you love +children?" + +"No," was Cardo's laconic reply, at which the doctor smiled. + +He tried many subjects but failed to get any further answer than "yes" +or "no." Most men would have been discouraged when several weeks +passed over, and still his patient showed very little signs of +improvement. It is true, now he would answer more at length, but he +was never heard to volunteer a remark, though he sat for hours in what +looked like a "brown study," in which probably only indistinct forms +and fantastic shapes passed before his mind's eye. And latterly the +doctor too had frequently been observed to fall into a reverie, while +his eyes were fixed on Charles Williams's motionless attitude. After +much thought, he would sit beside his patient and try to interest him +in something going on around him. + +Indeed, Cardo's gentle ways, together with his handsome person, had +endeared him to all who came in contact with him, and there was not one +in the house, from the cook in the kitchen to Dr. Belton's youngest +child, who would not have rejoiced to see health restored to the +invalid. + +One evening, when Jack, a boy of twelve, returned from school, he came +bounding into the room in which Cardo sat with his eyes fixed on a +newspaper, which he had not turned nor moved for an hour, Sister Vera +sitting at the window with her work. + +"See, Mr. Williams," said the boy, "what Meta Wright gave me, some +gilded gingerbread! isn't it pretty? I have eaten a pig and a +lamb--now there is a ship for you." + +Cardo put down the paper, and taking the gingerbread in his thin +fingers, looked at it with eyes that gradually filled with tears. + +"Gingerbread?" he said, looking next at the boy, "gilded gingerbread in +the moonlight!" + +Sister Vera's eyes and ears were instantly on the alert, while she made +a sign of silence to the boy. + +Cardo continued to look at the gingerbread. Suddenly he held up his +finger and seemed to listen intently. + +"Hush!" he whispered, "do you hear the Berwen?" and he ate his +gingerbread slowly, sighing heavily when it was finished. + +This was good news for Dr. Belton, told garrulously at tea by his young +son, and more circumstantially by Sister Vera; but for long afterwards +there was no further sign of improvement in Cardo. + +It was not until three more months had passed that another sign of +reviving memory was seen in him, and again it was Jack who awoke the +sleeping chord. + +"Isn't it a shame?" he said, excitedly running into the room one day; +"mother is cutting Ethel's hair; says she's getting headaches from the +weight of it. Rot, I call it! See what a lovely curl I stole," and he +handed it to Cardo, who first of all looked at it with indifference, +but suddenly clutching it, curled it round his finger, and became very +excited. + +"Whose is it?" said Sister Vera, standing over him. + +His lips trembled and with a husky voice he said. + +"Valmai--" The sound of the name seemed to charm his ear, for he +continued to speak it in all sorts of varying tones--sometimes in +whispering tones of love--at others in loud and imploring accents. +"Oh, Valmai, Valmai!" he called, and when Dr. Belton entered the room, +he held out his hands towards him, and in a beseeching voice cried, +"Valmai! Valmai!" + +There was no rest for anyone in the hospital that night, for all night +long the house echoed with the cry of "Valmai! Valmai!" + +On the following morning, endeavouring to create some distraction from +this ever-recurring cry, Dr. Belton drove his patient with him for some +miles into the bush; the fresh air and motion seemed to quiet his +brain, and he fell into the silent stupor so constantly hanging over +him. + +"Come, Williams," said the doctor at last, as they emerged into a +well-kept road leading up to a handsome house which stood on a rising +ground before them, surrounded by its broad acres of well-cultivated +land. "You must brighten up now, for I am going to take you to see an +old friend of mine. Why, here he is!" and they were greeted by a +jovial shout as a portly, pleasant-faced man caught them up. + +"Hello! doctor, glad to see you; you havent honoured us with a visit +for some time." + +"I have been so busy lately, and even now you see I have brought a +patient with me. I thought a little change would do him good." + +"Of course, of course! the more the merrier. I'll ride on and prepare +Nellie for your coming," and off he galloped on his well-kept, spirited +horse, looking as he felt, perfectly at home in the saddle. + +"Nellie," a sweet-looking lady with a brunette's face, which retained +much of the beauty of youth, although she had now attained to middle +age, was as hearty as her husband in her greeting. + +"So glad to see you--you are just in time for dinner; for a wonder +Lewis is punctual today." + +She shook hands with Cardo, and placed a chair for him at the +well-filled table. He took his seat with a pleasant smile, but soon +fell into his usual dreamy state, which the company at a sign from Dr. +Belton took no notice of. + +"I do believe, Williams," said Dr. Belton at last, "that I have never +introduced you to my friends. These are Mr. and Mrs. Wynne." + +Cardo looked up almost eagerly. + +"Cardo Wynne?" he said. + +"No," said the doctor; "Mr. Lewis Wynne. But do you know that name?" + +"Yes, Cardo Wynne." + +"Is that your name?" asked the shrewd doctor. + +"Yes, Cardo Wynne." + +"Merciful goodness!" said the host, in excited astonishment, which his +wife seemed in a great measure to share, "that is the name of my +brother's son, Caradoc, commonly called Cardo Wynne; that is what Dr. +Hughes told us, Nellie, didn't he?" + +"Yes, I have often thought of the name and wondered what he was like. +How sad," she said, "and such a handsome fellow, too." + +"Caradoc!" Dr. Belton called suddenly. + +"Yes," said Cardo, with one of his pleasant smiles, "Cardo Wynne, +Brynderyn." + +"Good heavens!" said Mr. Wynne, "there can be no doubt about it; that +is my brother's home." + +And both he and Dr. Belton, aided by Mrs. Wynne's gentle suggestions, +made every endeavour to elicit further information from Cardo, but in +vain. He had fallen again into an apparently unconscious and deadened +stupor. + +"Sunstroke, did you say? are you sure of that, Belton?" + +"Not at all," said the doctor; "in fact, I have had serious doubts of +it lately, and to-day's experience decides me. I will have a thorough +examination of his skull." + +"I will ride in to-morrow, to hear what further discoveries you have +made," said Mr. Wynne. And Dr. Belton returned home early, leaving his +host and hostess deeply interested. + +Calling Sister Vera to him he told her of his plans. + +"I have long thought it possible that poor fellow might have had a blow +of some kind on his head, and that he is still suffering from the +effects of it. I shall at once administer an anaesthetic and have a +thorough examination of his head. The idea of sunstroke was so +confirmed by the symptoms when he was brought to the hospital that no +one thought of anything else." + +"How soon?" asked the nurse. + +"To-morrow--three o'clock." + +And the next afternoon, Cardo's head was thoroughly examined, with the +result that Dr. Belton soon found at the back of the skull near the top +a small but undoubted indentation. + +"Of course," he said, "we must have been blind not to guess it before; +but we are blind sometimes--very blind and very stupid." + +Cardo was kept under the influence of a sedative that night, and next +day Dr. Belton, with the promptness of action which he now regretted he +had not sooner exercised, procured the help of one of the most noted +specialists in Sydney, and an operation was successfully performed. + +Mr. and Mrs. Wynne's visits of inquiry and sympathy were of almost +daily occurrence during the next month, while Cardo in the darkened, +quiet room, slowly regained his powers of mind and body. It was a very +slow progress, though it did not seem to be wholly unsatisfactory to +Dr. Belton. That good man, after weeks, nay months, of anxious +interest, was, however, at last rewarded by the pleasant spectacle of a +young and ardent temperament gradually re-awakening to the joys of life. + +The mind which had been darkened for so long could not be expected to +regain its elasticity and spring at once, in an hour, or a day. But it +was evident to the doctor that the healing process which had begun +would continue, unless retarded by some unforeseen accident. Gradually +the children were admitted into his presence, and while they played +with Cardo, Mrs. Belton came and chatted with Sister Vera. + +A few days later on Mr. and Mrs. Wynne entered through the verandah +with Dr. Belton, and although Cardo looked a little flustered and +puzzled, the pleasant smile and warm clasp of the hand with which he +greeted them showed there was no great depth of distrust or fear in his +mind. His uncle and aunt possessed much good sense and judgment, and +did not hurriedly thrust the recognition of themselves upon their +nephew, but waited patiently, and let it dawn gradually upon him. + +One afternoon, while Cardo, accompanied by his uncle and aunt, were +walking up and down the verandah conversing on things in general, in a +friendly and unconstrained manner, he suddenly stopped, and looking +full into his uncle's face, said: + +"Uncle Lewis, I cannot imagine how you and I have come here together; +some things seem so very clear to me, and others so dim and indistinct." + +"But every day they grow clearer, do they not?" + +"Yes, I think so. Have I been ill?" + +"Yes, my dear fellow," said his uncle, gently laying his hand on his +arm, "you have been very ill, and your recovery depends entirely upon +your keeping your mind calm and restful. Do not attempt to remember +anything that does not come clearly into your mind; in fact, live in +the present as much as you can, and the past will come back to you +gradually." + +At this moment Dr. Belton appeared on the verandah, having just +returned from a visit to one of the Sydney hospitals. After greeting +his friends, he sat down on a rustic chair, and with a stretch and a +yawn brought out from his coat pocket a leather pocket-book which he +flung across to Cardo. + +"There, Cardo, is that yours?" + +"Yes," he answered, carelessly taking the pocketbook and placing it in +his pocket. + +"Come, you have disposed of it quickly; look at it again." + +Cardo drew it out once more, and, looking at it more carefully, said: + +"I do not remember where I dropped it; but I do remember being in a +hot, scorching atmosphere, and feeling a terrific blow on my head, and +then--nothing more but cloud and darkness, until I awoke here to light +and memory, though that sometimes fails me, for I cannot remember +exactly what happened before that day of burning heat." + +"Well! the blow on your head and the loss of your pocket-book I can +explain, for to-day in the Eastlake Hospital, I was with a dying man, +who confessed that about a year and a half ago he was standing idly on +the docks, when he saw a gentleman suddenly struck on the back of his +head by the swinging arm of a huge crane, used for lifting heavy +weights to and from the shipping. The young man fell forward, his +pocket-book--that one I have just given you--fell out of his pocket, +and was pounced upon by the man who died to-day. That was you, Cardo +Wynne; you were struck down insensible by the iron bar, and while you +were quickly surrounded by a crowd and carried to the hospital, the man +escaped with your pocket-book. He returned it to me with great +penitence, having spent all your money, I am afraid; but your papers, I +think, are intact, and I see you have in it a letter of credit upon the +Bank of Australasia." + +"Why, yes," said Cardo, "I remember coming to the harbour in a ship. +What was it called? The _Burrawalla_!" and as he fingered the papers +in the pocket-book, and came upon his father's signature, Meurig Wynne, +he became much excited, and hunted eagerly until he found a folded +paper, out of which he drew a long curl of golden hair. + +"Valmai!" he said, "oh, Valmai, Valmai!" and dropping on to a seat, he +covered his face with his hands, and through his fingers trickled some +silent tears. + +"I must forbid any more excitement for the present," said the doctor; +"let us go in to dinner." + +And as they gathered round the table, Cardo took his seat next to his +uncle, with more cheerfulness and alacrity than usual. + +The thread of memory, once awakened, never wholly slept again. Daily +and almost hourly memories of the past returned to him, and as he +gained bodily and mental strength, he gradually unfolded to his uncle +the incidents which had preceded his coming to Australia. + +When Lewis Wynne became fully aware of his brother's deep-seated +affection for him, and of the penitence and remorse which had darkened +his life, he was filled with an impatient anxiety to return to the land +of his birth and the brother whom he had loved so much. Indeed, before +his acquaintance with his nephew, he had already begun to arrange his +affairs with the intention of disposing of his property in Australia, +for he had prospered in all his undertakings, and was now a wealthy man. + +It was delightful news therefore to Cardo when his uncle one day +appeared at Dr. Belton's, with the information that he had concluded a +satisfactory sale of his property. + +"So we'll go back together, old boy," he said, slapping Cardo on the +back in his usual jovial manner; "you can write to your father, and +tell him to look out for a house for Nellie and me." + +"I will write to him to-day," said Cardo; "poor old dad, poor old dad! +What he must have suffered! I only hope the suspense has not killed +him!" + +"Well, if he is alive," said his uncle, "your good news will make up to +him for all the past! We'll have some happy days in the old country +yet. You must get married, Cardo, and settle down near us!" + +"I am married," said Cardo, with a whole-hearted laugh at Dr. Belton's +look of astonishment. + +"Married!" said the doctor, "I never suspected that! I did think that +long golden curl pointed to some love-affair." + +"It did, indeed," said Cardo; "it is one of my sweet wife Valmai's +curls!" + +"Where is she now?" said Mr. Wynne, "with your father?" + +"No," he said, with a more serious look, "living with her uncle. The +truth is, my father knows nothing about our marriage, and I have only +yesterday written to tell him the whole truth; and now that I am able +to add the delightful news that you are returning with me, I think it +will soften his heart, and he will forgive our secrecy." + +"What objection has he to the lady?" + +"She is the Methodist minister's niece." + +At this remark Lewis Wynne burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. + +"The richest thing I ever heard of. Ha, ha, ha! Meurig Wynne's son +married to a Methodist preacher's niece. My dear boy, he'll never give +his consent. Why, he hated them like the very devil himself, and now +you expect him to agree to your marrying a Methodist." + +"He'll have to," said Cardo, "and I think he will." + +"Never, my boy, never," said Lewis, rubbing his hands gleefully. "I +expect we shall have some exciting times down there, Nellie?" + +"Yes; there will be one thing missing, and that will be dear Agnes." + +"It will always be a mystery to me," said Lewis Wynne, "how I missed +your father's letter, although certainly I was roaming about a good +deal at the time, and afterwards never hearing my brother's name from +Dr. Hughes, who wrote occasionally, I naturally thought he was still +keeping up his unaccountable anger against me; and the busy life of an +Australian station soon occupied my life entirely; but, hurrah! for old +Cymry now. We'll go back and make it all right, Cardo." + +And in less than a month from this time, a very bright and cheerful +party went on board the fast sailing steamer _Wellingtonia_. Mr. and +Mrs. Wynne especially were full of life and spirits. + +Dr. Belton went on board with them, and when the last good-byes were +said, he declared that Cardo's leaving would cause a great blank in his +life, as not only had he been greatly interested in the young man as "a +case," but he had also grown much attached to him as a friend. + +The bell rang, the gangway was raised, and the _Wellingtonia_ moved +from the side of the quay; and when at last they had fairly bid +good-bye to Australia, they turned to look at each other, and to +realise that another leaf in the book of life had been turned over. + +Cardo was full of the brightest hopes, but shaded by anxiety, for he +knew now that two whole years had passed away since he bade good-bye to +Valmai on the quay at Fordsea. What had been her fate since then? How +had she borne his long and unexplained absence and silence? And as he +paced up and down the deck he was full of troubled thought, as well as +of bright hopes and anticipations. + +"She must think me dead, but she will soon hear; in another week she +will receive my letter, and, oh! I will make up to her in the future +for all she may have suffered. Valmai, my darling! I am coming back +to you, to kiss away your tears, and to shield you from every trouble +in the future!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +HOME AGAIN. + +A cold, biting, north wind blew over Abersethin one morning in +November, the sea tossed and tumbled its sand-stained waves in the bay, +the wind carrying large lumps of yellow foam far up over the beach, and +even to the village street, where the "Vicare du" was making a +difficult progress towards the post-office, his hat tied firmly on, his +hands buried deep in his pockets, and his long, black cloak flapping +behind him. He walked on bravely. Every day he tramped over the sandy +beach, under the cliffs, and down the village street to the +post-office; this was quite a change in his habits, which drew many +comments from the gossiping villagers. + +"Well, well; he might have been kinder to his son when he had him with +him; he'll never have the chance again," said Peggi "bakkare," peering +through her tiny, foam-flecked window. + +"No," said Madlen, who had come in for a loaf; "having got safe away +'tisn't likely the young man will turn up here again, and small blame +to him considering everything." + +"No, indeed, Madlen fâch; serve the old Vicare right; but 'tis a pity +for the poor girl, whatever." + +"And where is she, I wonder?" + +"Well, now," said Madlen, "Mary, my sister, was coming home from Caer +Madoc last week, and on the roadside there was a tent of gypshwns; it +was dark and they had a fire, and there, sitting by the fire, was a +girl the very picture of Valmai." + +"Dir anwl! I daresay it was her, indeed; but yet, I thought she was +too much of a lady to join the gypshwns. Well, well; strange things do +happen." + +And the story of Valmai having been seen in the tent of the gypshwns +was spread abroad in the village, not that any one believed it, but it +was, at all events, better than no news, and was a little spicy +condiment in the daily fare of gossip. + +"My papers," said the "Vicare du" laconically to the postmaster. "Is +your wife better?" + +"Iss thank you, sir, and here is a letter for you--from Australia, I +think." + +The Vicar took it without any show of feeling, though his heart had +given a sudden bound at the postman's news. + +"Stormy day," he said, as he passed out of the narrow doorway. + +He was longing to get home, but he would not hurry his step. He +stopped and looked impatiently as he heard the postman call after him. + +"There is another letter from Australia, sir, but I dunno where was I +to send it. Here it is, sir." And he touched his hat apologetically +as he handed a second letter to him. + +"Yes; my son's handwriting, I see. I will take charge of it." + +He gasped for breath, though the postman saw no sign of emotion, and, +as he bent his head against the wind, he read the address on the second +letter. + + "Mrs. Caradoc Wynne, + c/o Rev. Meurig Wynne, + Brynderyn, + Abersethin, + Cardiganshire, Wales." + +"Oh, my God, I thank Thee," were the only words that escaped the +Vicar's lips while he hurried home through the brewing storm, the +letters clutched in his hand and pressed against his breast; but these +words were repeated several times. + +At last, in the quiet of his study, he opened his son's letter and +hungrily devoured every word of its contents twice over. After its +perusal he took up the second letter, and, with visible emotion, poured +over every line of the address, turning the envelope over and over, and +pondering in deep but silent thought, from which Betto's knock, +announcing dinner, startled him. + +As he stood for a moment to say grace, before sitting down to his meal, +Betto raised her eyes to his face, and was so startled by the changed +and softened look that, with round eyes of surprise, she asked: + +"Mishtir bâch! what is it?" + +"Mr. Cardo is coming home." + +And Betto, quite overcome, plumped herself down on the sofa, throwing +her apron over her head and shedding some surreptitious tears of +sympathy; while the Vicar, forgetting his dinner, recounted to her the +chief incidents of his son's absence--his long illness, and subsequent +loss of memory--Betto following the tale with a running accompaniment +of ejaculations. + +"And this, Betto," said her master, slowly laying the other letter on +the table before her, "look at it--but I forgot you can't read English." + +"Howyer bâch! not I." + +"Well, it is addressed to 'Mrs. Caradoc Wynne.' Did you know anything +of this?" + +Betto's face exhibited a succession of expressions, which followed each +other like dissolving views, astonishment, indignation, fear of her +master's displeasure, determination to champion Cardo in any course of +combat, all ending in a broad grin of delight as she saw an +unaccustomed curve on the Vicar's lips. + +"Did I know it? No; if I had, I wouldn't have had words with so many +people in the village. Oh! my boy, bâch! didn't I always say he was a +gentleman!" And her varied emotions culminated in a rain of tears. + +"Twt, twt!" said the Vicar, clearing his throat, "no nonsense, Betto; +bring me the potatoes." + +And that meal was finished with more cheerfulness than had lightened up +that dark old room for many a long year. + +From that day forth the Vicar seemed to gain strength and gladness with +every hour. He took long walks in his parish, and showed more tender +sympathy with the ailments and troubles of his ancient congregation. +The wonderful change in the "Vicare du" was the subject of remark at +many a cottage hearth, and in many a roadside conversation. + +"Oh! it's his son's coming home that has brightened him up so much; and +John Jones, postmaster, says he took the other letter as meek as a +lamb. But what has he done with it nobody knows. John Jones is saying +that it has never been posted again, so he must have got it still." + +"Well, well! how can he post it when nobody knows where Mrs. Caradoc +Wynne is?" + +"Mrs. Caradoc Wynne, indeed! Phrutt!" + + * * * * * * + +Early in the New Year, when the bare, brown hills had thrown off their +mantle of snow, and the blue waters of the bay were glinting in the +sunshine, and the starry, golden celandines looked up fearlessly from +every bank and hedge, a heavily-laden carriage, drawn by a pair of +strong horses, rolled along the dry, hard road from Caer Madoc towards +Abersethin. Its occupants looked at every scene with interest, +recalling reminiscences of former days at every turn of the road, and +looking out eagerly for the chimneys of the village, which lay at the +bottom of the valley. + +The travellers were Cardo and Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Wynne. As the +carriage left the firm, high road, and began to descend one of the +stony lanes which led to the shores below, Cardo became silent and +thoughtful; he had hitherto been the life of the party. Returning home +in perfect health and spirits, he had given the rein to his fancy, and +was full of buoyant hopes and joyful anticipations. + +The Vicar, apprised of their coming, was watching at the gate--indeed, +had been there more or less since breakfast, and it was now nearly noon. + +Betto flew about with amazing agility, considering her size and weight, +dusting a chair, smoothing her apron, shading her eyes with her hand, +and peering towards the brow of the hill for some signs of their coming. + +At last they arrived, and it would be useless to try to describe that +happy meeting. The Vicar seemed overwhelmed with joy, not only to +receive once more his beloved son, but also to clasp the hand of the +brother whom he thought had been estranged from him for ever! + +It was quite an hour or two before they had all calmed down. + +"We sha'n't keep this fellow long with us," said Lewis Wynne, +indicating Cardo with a jerk of his thumb; "he can scarcely take his +eyes off that ramshackle old house up there on the cliff; naturally he +is longing to see his wife. You must make no objection, Meurig." + +"None. I have no wish to do so." + +"Nellie and I," continued his brother, "are quite looking forward to +see our niece--of course we make all allowance for the rhapsodies of a +lover; but discounting all that, I really think, Meurig, he has found a +pearl in that old, rough oyster-shell of a house." + +"Wait a moment, Cardo," said his father, as he saw his son hunting +about for his hat. "I am afraid I have a disappointment in store for +you," and from his breast-pocket he drew out, and handed to Cardo, his +own letter to Valmai. + +Cardo's face blanched, as with trembling fingers he turned the envelope +round and round. + +"What is the meaning of this, father?" he asked at last an angry flush +rising to his pale face, "Did I count too much upon your forgiveness +when I asked you to give this to Valmai?" + +"No, my dear boy, I would gladly have given it to her, and I grieve for +your disappointment, but she has left this neighbourhood many, many +months, and nobody knows where she has gone." + +"Gone!" was all Cardo could exclaim, as he flung himself into a chair +and hid his face in his hands. + +"Yes. Much has happened since you left, and you may as well know it +now. There is nothing to hide from your uncle and aunt?" + +"No, no, tell me at once." + +"Well, much had happened before she left." + +Here Cardo started up excitedly. + +"Why, she has gone to her Uncle John, of course. Where else should she +go, dear innocent, without another friend in the world?" + +The Vicar shook his head. + +"She is not there, Cardo, for he died some months ago and left all his +money to his niece." + +But Cardo heard not the latter information. He was stunned by the news +of old Captain Powell's death; he had never thought of this +possibility, and was thrown into despair by the blow. Valmai wandering +about the world friendless and alone! The thought was distracting, and +in desperation he rushed out of the house. + +"Poor fellow," said Lewis Wynne, "this is a terrible blow to him." + +"Yes, yes, indeed! Perhaps he will be able to get some clue in the +village." + +Cardo flew over the beach and up the well-known path to Dinas. Shoni +was standing in the farm-yard. + +"Caton pawb! wass it you, Cardo Wynne?" he said. "Well, I was swear to +make you feel the weight of my fist; but if the news is true that +Valmai is marry to you, I will shake hands instead." + +Cardo wrung his hand. + +"Yes, yes, man, she is my wife, safe and sound--but where is she? Tell +me for heaven's sake where has she gone?" + +"Well, indeed, that I donno--Essec Powell donno--an' nobody know. You +look here now," said Shoni, "an' if you listen to me you will see +everything quite plain. After you gone away Valmai wass go down to +Fordsea to take care on her uncle, John Powell. He wass broke his leg, +and when he cum better Valmai cum back to Dinas." + +"Well," said Cardo, "what then? Tell me in Welsh, you'll get on +quicker." + +But Shoni indignantly declined to give up the language which he +considered he had so completely mastered. + +"What then!" he continued severely, "you know very well what then. It +wass three or four months before she cum back from Fordsea, and she +wass look pale and thin and every day more like a spirit angel. Well, +everybody see very soon what wass the matter with her, and at last +somebody told Essec Powell. It was just the same time Captain Powell +died, and when Essec Powell cum home from the funeral and find out his +brother leave all his money to Valmai he go to chapel and somebody tell +him about Valmai--" + +"What about Valmai?" said Cardo. + +"That she was gone, like many another, over the side of the path." + +"For heaven's sake, tell me what are you driving at?" + +"I am telling you if you wass quiet and let me alone. That night Essec +Powell cum home from chapel in a devil of temper, and he call Valmai a +thief to steal his brother's money from him, and worse names than that, +an' he turn her out of the house that night, pwr thing, pwr thing!" + +Cardo groaned and clenched his fists. + +"Well! the wind wass blowing, and the snow wass fallin' shockin', and I +could not let her carry her big bundle of clothes and she in the +condition she wass--" + +"Condition?" gasped Cardo, "what do you mean?" + +Shoni looked at him with keen, searching eyes. + +"Cardo Wynne," he said, "I wass ussed to think you an honest, +straightforward man, though you wass a churchman, and are you mean to +tell me now that you donno that Valmai Powell have a small child on the +30th June last year?" + +"As God is my witness, Shoni, this is the first breath I have heard of +such a thing; but she was my wife, why then should her uncle have +turned her out?" + +"But she nevare tell us that, see you, she nevare speak a word about +that, and only now lately Betto have told that the Vicare wass tell her +she was marry to you! and everybody is wonder why she didn't tell +before, instead of bear the nasty looks and words of the women. Oh! I +can tell you Gwen here look pretty flat when she hear the news she wass +married, and I did laugh in the corner of my mouth, 'cos she bin so +nasty to Valmai. Well! I went with her over the Rock Bridge, and we go +to Nance's cottage, and she cry, and Nance cry, and there I leave them, +and the next morning before the sun is thinking to get up, I take her +box and the rest of her clothes over in a boat, and she and Nance kom +out early to meet me--and for long time nobody knew she wass there--and +there her small child wass born. Here, sit down, sir, on my +wheelbarrow; this news is shake you very much, I see." + +Cardo felt compelled to take the proffered seat on the wheelbarrow, so +completely overcome was he by Shoni's information. + +"Go on, Shoni," he said, "make haste." + +"Well! she wass walk up and down the shore, and always looking out over +the sea; the sailors wass often watch her. 'She may look and look,' +they say, 'but he will nevare kom back!' And at last her child die." + +"Oh, God," said Cardo, "Valmai to suffer all this and I not with her!" + +"Where wass you, then?" said Shoni, "and why you not kom back?" + +"Because I was ill in hospital. I caught typhoid fever, and I had +concussion of the brain, and I lay unconscious for many long weeks, +nay, months. As soon as I came to myself, Shoni, I came home, and I +often wished I had the wings of the birds which flew over the ship, and +would reach land before us!" + +"Well, well, well," said Shoni, "I dunno what wass that illness you +had, but it must be very bad by the name of it; but whatever, my advice +to you is, go to Nance, perhaps she will tell you something, though she +won't tell nobody else." + +"Yes, yes, I am going at once. Thank you, Shoni; you have been kind to +her, and I can never forget it." And he jumped up and unceremoniously +left his companion staring after him. + +"Diwx anwl!" said Shoni, returning to his Welsh, "he goes like a +greyhound; good thing I didn't offer to go with him!" + +Cardo made short work of the green slopes which led down to the valley, +and shorter still of the beach below. He jumped into a boat with a +scant apology to Jack Harris, the owner, who with a delighted smile of +recognition, and a polite tug at his cap, took the oar and sculled him +across. + +"I am looking for my wife, Jack, so don't expect me to talk." + +"No, indeed, sir, I have heard the strange story, and I hope you will +find her, and bring the pretty young lady back with you, sir; she was +disappear from here like the sea mist." + +Nance was perfectly bewildered when Cardo appealed to her for +information, and her delight at his return to clear her darling's name +knew no bounds. She brought out her best teacups, settled the little +black teapot in the embers, and gradually drew her visitor into a +calmer frame of mind. + +His questions were endless. Every word that Valmai had said, every +dress she had worn, every flower she had planted in the little garden +were subjects of interest which he was never tired of discussing. + +But of deeper interest than flowers or dresses was Nance's account of +the tiny angel, who came for a short time to lighten the path of the +weary girl, and to add to her difficulties. + +"And she gave it up so meekly, so humbly, as if she could _see_ the +beautiful angels who came to fetch it. It laid there on the settle in +its little white nightgown, and she was sitting by it without crying, +but just looking at it, sometimes kissing the little blue lips. Dr. +Francis was very kind, and did everything about the funeral for her. +It is buried up here in the rock churchyard, in the corner where they +bury all the nameless ones, for we thought he had no father, you see, +sir, and we knew it was unbaptised. She would not have it christened. +She was waiting for you to come home, for she would not tell its name, +saying, 'Baby will do for him till his father comes home,' and 'Baby' +he was, pertws bâch." + +Cardo sat listening, with his hands shading his eyes. + +"And now, here's the directions, sir," she said, as Peggi Bullet +returned from the well. "Here you, Peggi fâch, you are so nimble, you +climb up the ladder and bring the old teapot down." + +And the nimble woman of seventy soon laid before them the old cracked +teapot, out of which Nance drew the same faded address which she had +once shown to Valmai. + +"It is horribly faint," said Cardo, a fresh tremor rising in his heart. + +"Here it is now," said Nance, placing her shrivelled finger on the +paper. "This is where she went from here, when all this trouble came +upon her, and everybody pointed the finger of scorn at her; and when +she had given up the hope that you would ever come back, sir, she +turned to her sister, dear child!" + +"I never knew she had a sister!" + +"No, nor she didn't know much about her; but I knew, and I told her. +Born the same time they were, and a grand lady, who was lodging at +Essec Powell's at the time, took the sister away with her, and brought +her up as her own daughter, and we have never heard of her since. 'But +I will find her, Nance,' she said. 'I _will_ find her! I know I +will!'" + +"But have you never heard from her?" + +"Well, indeed, there was a letter," said Nance, "came soon after she +left. Dr. Francis read it to me, and I think I put it in that teapot, +but I am not sure; indeed, perhaps Peggie has thrown it away." + +"And what did she say?" + +"'Oh!' she said, 'I have found my sister, Nance, and you must not be +unhappy about me, everybody is so kind to me. If anyone comes to ask +for me, say I am here,' but she didn't say where!" + +"But the address was at the top of the letter," said Cardo. + +"Oh, anwl! I daresay it was. I never thought of that! There's a pity +now; but try again to read that--she read it." + +"Well, let me see," said Cardo, taking the faded paper to the window. + +"Mrs. Besborough Power?" + +"That's it!" said Nance. + +"Carew?" + +"No; that's not right." + +"Carne?" + +"Yes; that's what she called it." + +"Montgomeryshire?" + +"No; she wrote there and the letter was sent back." + +"Then it must be Monmouthshire!" + +And with this scant information, and a very heavy heart, Cardo left the +cottage, and, telling Jack Harris to meet him at the other side of the +island, he made his way up the path which led to the little +burying-ground behind the Rock Church. + +"Poor fellow!" said Peggi Bullet, looking after him, "you can't measure +sorrow by the length of a man." + +He stepped over the low wall which divided it from the coarse grass of +the cliffs, and immediately found himself in a sunny corner. The +little grassy mounds were numerous, few had headstones; but one, marked +by a little white cross, had evidently received much care and +attention. The grass was soft and fine as velvet. Cardo approached it +with sorrowful reverence; he stooped to read the inscription. + +"In memory of Robert Powell ----. Born, June 30th. Died, August 30th." + +The blank space puzzled him for a moment, but, as he stood with folded +arms looking down at the little mound, a sudden revelation seemed to +flood his mind and enlighten him more thoroughly than all that he had +hitherto heard and done. She had kept faithfully--ah, too +faithfully--her promise to hide the secret of their marriage until he +should come himself to reveal it. How selfish, how thoughtless he had +been. Was it possible that his first letter to her, as well as his +last, might have miscarried? What had she not suffered? Alone, +friendless, disgraced in the eyes of the world. Motherhood, death, the +bitterness of feeling herself deserted--all--all had been tasted by her +for whom he would willingly have laid down his life; and he registered +a solemn vow that the devotion and love of his whole life should +henceforth shield her and guard her from every sorrow as far as in him +lay. + +He turned away from the little grave with a curious yearning in his +heart. His own and Valmai's child! Strange and new feelings awoke +within him as he crossed the rocky ridge running through the island, +and began his way down to the other side to the scattered fishing +village, where Jack Harris met him and quickly rowed him across to +Abersethin. + +Here his first visit was to the stone-cutter's. + +Morris Jones received him with the usual exclamations. + +"Howyr bâch! well, well! there's glad I am to see you, sir!" And he +shook Cardo's hand vigorously. "And, oh, dear, dear; there's sorry I +am you didn't come sooner, sir, before the poor young leddy went away. +She was broke her heart too much to stop after her small child was +buried--and a beautiful boy he was too, sir, the very picture of you." + +"You cut that inscription on the little cross, Morris?" + +"Iss, sir, I did; with my own hands, and I don't think you get it +better done--no, not in Paddington itself." + +"No--it is excellent. But the gap after 'Robert Powell'; you must add +'Wynne' to it at once." + +"That's it, sir, that's it! before next Sunday it shall be done. I +hope you will find the young leddy, sir." + +"My wife, Morris." + +"Iss, iss, sir; there's glad I was to hear that." + +And, as Cardo left, and passed through the rest of the village, the +same warm wish followed him from many a cottage window, and from every +group of fishermen whom he passed on the way. + +"He has not forgotten his pleasant manners, whatever," said the men, as +he greeted them all with his usual frank and genial smile. + +"No; nor he hasn't lost his good looks," said the women. "Though, +indeed, his heart must be heavy now, druan bâch." [1] + +"Well," said the Vicar next morning, as Cardo drove off to Caer Madoc +to catch the train at the nearest station, "I mustn't grumble at losing +him so soon; he is doing the right thing, poor fellow, and I hope in my +heart he may find his wife and bring her home. What a happy party we +shall be! The only thorn in my flesh will be Essec Powell; I don't +think I can ever get over my dislike to that man." + +"Oh, nonsense," said his brother, "let us all three go up there to-day, +and take the bull by the horns, and make friends with him." + +And after breakfast, the Vicar, though with a bad grace, buttoned up +his long black coat, and took his way, accompanied by his brother and +his wife, up the steep path to Dinas. + +It was an early hour certainly, not yet eleven o'clock; but "calling" +was unknown at Abersethin, and it was not the unseasonableness of the +hour which made Shoni stare as the three visitors entered the "clos" or +farm-yard. + +"Well, diwedd anwl!" he said, barely escaping an oath, "here's the +'Vicare du'! I know him by his coat tails, and his tallow face, and no +doubt that is Lewis Wynne and his wife with him;" (for village gossip +had already spread abroad the news of the arrivals at Brynderyn). +"Well, indeed," he continued, "the preacher on Sunday night told us the +end of the world was coming, and now I believe it!" and he put down his +wheel-barrow, and stood stock still while the visitors approached. + +"Borau-da!" [2] said the Vicare, in a constrained voice. + +"Borau-da," was all Shoni's answer, and seeing a dogged look come into +his face, Lewis Wynne took the lead in the conversation. + +"How are you, Shoni? Do you remember the jolly day we had, you and I, +out fishing when we ought to have been at school?" + +"Yes, I do indeed, sir, and the lot of fish we caught." + +"Yes, and the thrashing we got for it afterwards! But we want to see +your master, Shoni." + +"Essec Powell?" + +"Yes--Essec Powell, is he too busy?" + +Shoni hid his face behind his sleeve, while he indulged in a cackle. + +"Has he company, then?" + +"Oh, very good company--plenty of company! he got Taliesin--Owen +Glyndwr--Iolo Morganwg and all the rest of them! and he's quite happy +in their company. But once he comes down to live with us he's as rough +and prickly as a birch-broom. Indeed he wass nevver used to be like +this whatever; 'tis ever since his brother John die, and leave all his +money to Valmai." + +"You must try to call her Mrs. Caradoc Wynne now, Shoni," said the +Vicar, with a smile. + +"Yes, indeed, sir," said Shoni, quickly thawing; "there's nobody in +Abersethin but won't be glad to see Val--Mrs. Wynne home again; it bin +very dull here without her, ever since she gone away." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Wynne had knocked at the door and had been confronted by +Essec Powell himself, who presented such an extraordinary appearance +that she had some difficulty in composing her face to a proper degree +of gravity. His trousers of brown cloth, burnt at the knees into a +green hue, were turned up above each ankle, exhibiting his blue woollen +stockings and a tattered pair of black cloth shoes, his coat was of +black cloth, very much frayed at the collar and cuffs, his white hair +flew about in all directions, as the draught from the back door swirled +in when the front door was opened. He had his finger in the leaves of +an old book, and with a far-away look in his blue eyes, all he could +say was a bewildered, "Eh!" + +"The Vicar is coming to see you, Mr. Powell--" + +"What Vicar? What, the 'Vicare du'?" and at this moment the Vicar +appeared, and held out his hand. + +Essec Powell stared in astonishment, and carefully exchanging his book +from his right to his left hand, and glancing to see that his finger +was on the right passage, he rather ungraciously shook hands with his +visitor. + +"Well," he said, "there's a thing I never thought I would do in this +world." + +"Oh, well, come," said Lewis Wynne's jovial voice. "You meant to do it +in the next world evidently, so we may as well begin here." + +"Will you come in?" and the old man awkwardly ushered them into the +little back parlour, which Valmai's busy fingers had transformed from +its original bareness into a cosy home-room. + +"Oh, what a dear little room," said Mrs. Wynne as she entered. + +The table was littered with books and papers, a gleam of sunlight +shining through the crimson curtains giving a warm glow to the whole +room. + +"Yes," said Essec Powell, looking round with the air of a stranger, "it +has nice bookshelves, and a nice light for reading; but I miss that +girl shocking, shocking," he repeated; "got to look out for every +passage now, and I was used to her somehow, you see; and I haven't got +anybody else, and I wish in my heart she would come back again." + +"That, I am afraid," said the Vicar, "can never be; perhaps both you +and I, Mr. Powell, have forgotten too much that, while we are going +down the stream of life, the young people are going up, and are +building their own hopes and interests; and I called to-day to see +whether we could not agree--you and I--to think more of the young +people's happiness for the future, and less of our own ease or our own +sorrows." + +"It's very well for you to talk," said Essec Powell. "You are a rich +man--I am poor; everything you see here belongs to Shoni, and it is +very hard that Valmai should have all my brother's money, and I be left +with none." + +"I think it is hard," said Mr. Lewis Wynne, "and as my nephew will be a +very wealthy man, I am certain that he and his wife will be willing to +pay you every year the amount which you lost by your brother's will." + +"You think that?" said Essec Powell; "150 pounds a year--you think they +would give me that?" + +"I am sure they would; in fact, I can give you my word for it." + +"Well, indeed," he said, laying his book upside down carefully on the +table, "that will make me a happy man. I can soon pay off Shoni, and +then I can sleep at night without feeling that my servant is my master; +and, more than all, I can give all my time to my book that I am +writing." + +"What is it?" said the Vicar, no longer able to restrain his interest +in the old books which littered the table. + +"Well, it is the history of our own county from as far back as I can +trace it; and, oh! you wouldn't believe," he said, "how many +interesting facts I have gathered together. I was not meant for a +preacher, and I am getting too old and worn-out to travel about the +country. I would like to give up preaching and spend all my time with +my books. And with 150 pounds a year! Why, I would be a prince +indeed!" + +"Well, you may tell your congregation next Sunday," said Lewis Wynne, +"that they had better take heed to their own ways now, for that you are +going to retire from the ministry." + +"And thank God for that," said Essec Powell; "it will be enough for me +to look after my own wicked ways. Indeed, I feel I am not fit to teach +others ever since I turned Valmai out of the house." + +"I see you have here 'Mona Antiqua,'" said the Vicar. "I have a copy +in very good preservation, and I am sure I might be able to give you a +good many interesting facts for your book gathered from some old MSS. +which I found stowed away in the old church tower." + +"Can you, now? can you, indeed?" + +And the two antiquarians bent with deep interest over the musty books +on the table. + +Two hours slipped away very pleasantly to the two old men before the +visitors took their departure. + +At the door Essec Powell held Lewis Wynne's hand for a moment. + +"Do you think the little gel will forgive me? and do you think the +young fellow will find her?" + +"Yes, I think he will; and if all he says of her be true, I am sure she +will forget and forgive the past. Of course, you had some excuse, in +the mystery and doubt surrounding her at the time." + +"Two hours you bin there," said Shoni, as they passed him in the yard. +"I wass just kom in to see if you wass all asleep. Good-bye, sir." + +He touched his hat respectfully to the Vicar; and as he returned to the +house to dinner he muttered to himself several times: + +"End of the world! I am sure of it! End of the world!" + + + +[1] Poor fellow. + +[2] Good-morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE VELVET WALK. + +"Are you going out so late, dear?" said Mrs. Power, as she crossed the +hall, where Gwladys was reaching a wrap from some hooks on the wall. + +"Yes, auntie, such a lovely evening--quite like spring; I can't resist +it. I will put on the cloak Valmai left, and I shall be quite warm." + +"Yes, and the very image of her," said Mrs. Power, looking after her +through the glass of the front door. + +It was one of those tender evenings that visit us sometimes at the +beginning of the year to remind us that spring is not far distant, and +to make us forget that the cold March winds are yet in store for us. +Gwladys drew the red hood over her head and walked briskly in the +direction of the lake, which lay buried in the fir wood behind the +house. + +The path which led towards it was called "The Velvet Walk," being +overgrown with a carpet of moss. The sun had just set, and the pale +blue sky was cloudless and serene as on a summer evening; but here, in +the shadow of the trees, the darkness was falling fast. + +Over the fir tree tops one golden star hung like a jewel in the sky. +Gwladys walked with face upturned and eyes fixed upon its sparkling +brilliancy, and so lost was she in admiration of its beauty, that she +was quite unconscious of a hurrying figure who followed close upon her +steps. + +It was Cardo, who, as he walked along the drive towards the house, had +caught sight of a gleam of scarlet between the fir trees. + +"Valmai!" he said, with a bound of the heart, and a flood of love and +happiness taking the place of the anxious doubts which had filled him +since his return home. + +He hastened past the front of the house and entered "The Velvet Walk" +to find the scarlet cloak but a little way in front of him, and Valmai, +as he thought, walking with gaze upturned to the brilliant evening star. + +"At last, my darling!" he said, but softly, for he would surprise her. +He would approach nearer and call her name, and then she would turn, +and he would see the love-light in those starry eyes, of which he had +dreamed at night and longed for by day. He was close upon her, but his +footsteps made no sound on the velvet carpet. + +"Valmai!" he said at last, and stood with wide-open arms and a +rapturous smile on his lips. + +But at the sound of his voice the girl darted forward a few steps +before she turned round and faced the stranger. Her first look was of +astonishment and fright, immediately followed by one of indignation. + +"Valmai, my darling, I have frightened you," he said, but dropping his +arms and the smile dying out of his face; for before the girl had +opened her lips to speak, he saw the flush of indignation and the +haughty look which passed over her face. + +"Back!" she said, holding up her hand as if to keep him away; "not a +step nearer. And what if I am Valmai? What is she to you after all +these months of cruel neglect?" + +Cardo stood still. Was this the meeting he had pictured to himself a +thousand times? Had her troubles unhinged her mind? Was she +distraught? + +"What is it, Valmai, my darling, that has changed you so? What is that +cold, haughty look on your face? I am Cardo, dearest--your own Cardo! +come back to explain everything to you, and to clasp you in his loving +arms," and again he approached as if to embrace her. + +"Stand back," said Gwladys once more. "If you come a step nearer, I +will call for help from the house." + +"No, no," said Cardo, "do not do that. I will obey you, dearest; but +tell me what is the meaning of this change in you? Oh, Valmai! has +your love indeed perished? Have you forgotten the happy past, the +walks by the Berwen, the fortnight at Fordsea? I have been ill, +dearest--have lain unconscious for months in a hospital; but I swear +that, from the moment I left you until now, every conscious thought, +every fibre of my being, every chord of memory has been faithful to +you, and to you alone! Come and sit on this bench. Five minutes will +explain all to you, and I will not believe that my Valmai can have +become the cold and heartless girl you seem to be." + +But Gwladys continued standing, and looking at him with eyes in which +scorn and contempt were but too plainly visible. + +"Good heavens, Valmai!" said Cardo, with clenched hands, the cold sweat +breaking out on his face; "do you remember it is a man's very soul you +are trifling with? Do you know what a man's heart is? what his love +means--such love as mine?" + +"Such love as yours!" said Gwladys coldly. "Such love, indeed! that +could lead an innocent girl into the path of deceit and dishonour; that +could leave her then to bear desertion and the cold scorn of the world, +alone and friendless; and now to return, and expect to find her +unchanged and still blinded to the truth!" + +"Valmai!" said Cardo, his hot Welsh blood suffusing his dark face with +passion, "you could never have loved me. Do the strong bonds that +united us count for nothing? Does that little green mound in the +churchyard count for nothing? No! you never could have loved me; and +yet--you did!" + +"If I ever did," said Gwladys, "the love is dead. I feel no more +interest in you now than I do in yonder ploughman." + +"Girl, you are my wife," said Cardo, who was trembling with a mixture +of anger and wounded love. "You are mine by every law of God and man, +and I will not let you go." Then suddenly changing into a tone of +excited entreaty, he said, "Come, darling, trust me once more, and I +will bring back the light of love into those frozen eyes, and I will +kiss back warmth into those haughty lips." + +"Away!" said Gwladys. + +"Do you wish, then, never to see me again?" + +"Never!" she said. "My greatest wish is never to see you or hear of +you again!" + +Cardo sank on the garden seat, feeling himself more perfectly unmanned +than he had ever been before. He had built such fair castles of hope, +the ruin was so great; he had dreamt such dreams of happiness--and the +awakening was so bitter! + +Gwladys saw the storm of feeling which had overwhelmed him, and for a +moment her voice softened. + +"I am sorry for you," she said; "but I have given you my answer." + +The slight tone of tenderness in her voice seemed to restore Cardo to +life. He crossed the velvet path, and, laying hold of her hands, which +she in vain tried to wrest from his grasp. + +"You are mine!" he said, "and I challenge heaven and earth to take you +from me!" + +"It is base and dishonourable," said Gwladys, still struggling in his +grasp, "to frighten a friendless girl and force your presence upon her." + +But Cardo's grasp was suddenly relaxed. Dropping his arms at his +sides, and going back a step or two, he stood aside to let her pass. +His long-tried temper had over-mastered him, as with a scornful voice +he spoke for the last time. + +"One word before you go--dishonourable! not even _you_ shall call me +that twice. Some strange cloud is over you--you are not the same +Valmai that walked with me beside the Berwen. You cannot kill my love, +but you have turned it to-night into gall and bitterness. I will +_never_ intrude my presence upon you again. Go through life if you +can, forgetting the past; I will never disturb the even tenor of your +way. And if, in the course of time, we may cross each other's paths, +do not fear that I, by word or sing, will ever show that we have met +before." + +"I hold you to that promise," said Gwladys haughtily. And she passed +on in the deepening twilight, under the fir trees, Cardo looking after +her with an aching heart. + +She met Mrs. Power on the stairs. + +"You have been a long time, dear; I hope you haven't taken cold." + +"Oh! no, I will be down directly; it must be near dinner-time." + +She walked steadily up the broad staircase, and into her own room; but +once there, she threw herself on the couch, and buried her face in the +cushions. + +"Oh! Valmai, my sister!" she sobbed, "what have I not borne for you +to-night! I have kept to my determination; but oh! I did not know it +would be so hard! You shall never more be troubled with this man; you +are beginning to find peace and joy in life, and you shall never again +be exposed to his cruel wiles. But oh! Valmai, having seen him I +forgive you; he can pretend to be passionately and truly in love with +you! but he is false, like every other man! He left you in despair and +disgrace; or what did he mean by 'the little mound in the churchyard'? +Oh! Valmai, what have you suffered? But now I have saved you, darling, +from further temptation from him. God grant my cruel deception may +bear good fruit for you, my sister!" + +It was late on the evening of the next day when Cardo reached Caer +Madoc, and, hiring a carriage from there, was driven over the old +familiar road to Abersethin. The wind blue keenly over the brown, bare +hills, the grey clouds hurried from the north over the pale evening +sky, one brilliant star shone out like a golden gem before him. Once +he would have admired its beauty, now the sight of it only awoke more +poignantly the memory of his meeting with Valmai in the "Velvet Walk," +and with a frown he withdrew his gaze from it. Here was the spot where +he had first seen her! here was the bridge upon which they had shared +their ginger-bread! and oh! cruellest of all sounds, there was the +Berwen gurgling and lisping below, as though there were no breaking +hearts in the world! + +On the brow of the hill they saw the lights of Brynderyn. + +"I will get out here," he said; "you need not drive down these rough +roads; I shall enjoy the walk." And as he paid his fare, the driver +wondered "what had come to Mr. Cardo Wynne, who was used to be such a +jolly young man! That voyage to Owstrallia done him no good whatever!" +And as he turned his carriage round, he muttered to himself, with a +shake of his head, "I heard some odd story about him and that purty +young niece of Essec Powell's the preacher." + +Arrived at Brynderyn, Cardo found his father and uncle and aunt seated +round a blazing fire in the old parlour, which had not looked so +cheerful for years. They had been recalling old memories and events of +the past, and when Cardo's footsteps were heard in the passage, they +turned with expectant eyes towards the door. When he entered the room, +pushing his fingers through his hair as was his habit, he was silent +and grave. + +"Well, well!" said the whole party at once, "have you found Valmai?" + +"Yes, father, I have found my wife," he answered, in measured and +serious tones; "but she is unforgiving, and refuses to have anything +more to say to me. In fact, I have heard from her own lips that she no +longer loves me! There is nothing more to be said. I have come back +to my old home, to work again on the farm, to try to pick up the +threads of my past life, and to make your life happier for my presence." + +"Cardo, my dear boy," said the old man, rising as if in reverence for +his son's grief, "is this possible? I do indeed feel for you." + +"Oh, nonsense," said Lewis Wynne, "it is only a lover's quarrel; you +will make it up before long. I will go to the girl, and make it all +right for you." + +"If you wish to do me a kindness, uncle, and you, too, dear aunt, you +will never mention the subject to me or to anyone else. It is a thing +of the past; let us bury it out of sight and hearing." + +"We will do what you wish, my dear boy; but I am afraid, amongst these +gossiping villagers, you will often hear the subject alluded to in joke +or in earnest." + +"Oh! I quite expect that," said Cardo, with an attempt at a laugh, but +it was a sorry attempt. "I am not going to play the _rôle_ of a +love-sick swain, my grief will be buried too deep for a careless touch +to reach it, and I hope I shall not forget I am a man. I have also the +comfort of knowing that my sorrow is the consequence of my misfortunes +and not of my faults." + +Soon things seemed to fall into the old groove at Brynderyn, as far as +Cardo and his father were concerned, except that that which had been +wanting before, namely, a warm and loving understanding between them, +now reigned in both their hearts, and sweetened their daily +intercourse. The west parlour and all the rooms on that side of the +house, which had been unused for so many years, were opened up again, +and delivered over to the care of Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Wynne, who kept +their own establishment there, thus avoiding the necessity of +interfering with Meurig Wynne's eccentric habits, and still enabling +them to meet round the cheerful hearth in the evening, or whenever they +chose. + +As for Cardo, he threw all his energies into the busy work of the +farm--the earliest in the field in the morning, the latest to leave it +at night, nothing was too small for his supervision, no work was too +hard for him to undertake; and though he declared he was well, quite +well, still, it was evident to those around him that he was overtaxing +his strength. The flashing light had gone out of those black eyes, the +spring from his gait, the softness from his voice. He paid frequent +visits to Nance's cottage, always returning across the corner of the +churchyard. The stone-cutter had kept his promise, and had added the +surname of "Wynne" on the little cross, and Cardo read it over and over +again, with a sort of pleasurable sorrow. The banks of the Berwen he +avoided entirely, the thought of wandering there alone was intolerable +to him. Every bird which sang, every flower that nodded at him, the +whispering river, everything would ask him, "Where is Valmai?" And +what answer could he give to his own aching heart which echoed the +question, "Where is Valmai? Gone--worse than gone! changed, she whom I +thought was the counterpart of my own unchangeable nature. No, no, +anywhere but by the banks of the Berwen!" And he plodded on at his +work, doing his best to regain the placid calmness, though not the +bright joyousness of his life, before he met Valmai. But in vain; the +summer found him languid and depressed in spirits. It was Shoni who +first suggested to him the idea of a change of scene and companionship. +A strange friendship had grown up between these two men. Shoni had +been kind and tender to Valmai in her sorrow, and seemed to belong to +the bright, happy past which was gone for ever. + +"Where that Mr. Gwynne Ellis wass ussed to be with you at Brynderyn? +Very good sort, indeed! Why you not go and stop with him a bit, and +bring him back here with you?" + +Cardo thought the matter over silently, while Shoni whittled a stake +for a hay band. + +"I think I will, Shoni; I feel I must go away from here for a time." + +"Yes, you so rich there's no need for you to work like you do." + +"No--that's the worst of it," said Cardo; "I feel my hard work is +benefiting nobody." + +"Iss, benefit you, cos it help to fill your mind." + +"Yes, but I am tired of myself," and Cardo heaved a deep sigh. "Well, +it's no use grumbling and grunting, Shoni, and if you don't see me +about next week you will know where I am gone to." + +"Yes--but, indeed, I am thinking Essec Powell will miss you. He think +now s'no one like you in the world, 'he help me a lot, Shoni,' he say, +'with his Latin and his Greek,' and the Vicare, he says, 'it wass +wonderful how many books he got on his shelfs!' and indeed I think," +continued Shoni, "the two old men will live much longer now they got +their noses over the same old book so often!" + +"I hope so," said Cardo, "and I am glad to think that the provision we +have made for him has taken the sting out of his brother's 'will.'" +And he went homewards as broad-shouldered and as handsome as ever, but +not whistling or humming as was his wont. + +His father, who saw how utterly his son was failing in his endeavour to +regain his peace of mind, fell in with his proposal of a visit to +Gwynne Ellis with great willingness. + +"The very thing, Cardo, and bring him back with you if you can; he was +a nice fellow on the whole in spite of his radical ideas." + +Once more Cardo took his way from Caer Madoc to the little wayside +station which connected that secluded neighbourhood with the busy, +outside world. He had written to Gwynne Ellis to inform him of his +coming, and had received a warm and welcoming answer to his letter. + +"Come, my dear fellow; I shall be delighted to receive you in my +diggings, and bring some of the poetry and charm of your lovely +neighbourhood with you if you can, for this place is flat, and dull, +and gray. But, by the by, I haven't told you I am likely to be removed +very soon to a good, fat living, old boy, near Monmouth--but I will +tell you all about it when we meet." + +Gwynne Ellis's present abode was on the borders of Gloucestershire, and +here Cardo found him waiting for him at the station. + +"It's only a mile, and I thought you would like a walk, so I have told +the boy to fetch your luggage in the donkey cart." + +"A walk will be very acceptable after sitting all day cooped up in a +railway-carriage." + +"Well, now, tell me all about your wife. You know I have heard nothing +since that one letter you wrote after you turned up again. What +adventures you have had, my dear fellow! and wasn't Valmai overjoyed to +see you back again?" + +"No, Ellis, and that is all I can say to you now. It is a long story, +and I would rather wait until later in the evening." + +"All right, old fellow, in the smoking-room to-night." + +And in the smoking-room that night they sat late, Cardo opening his +heart to his friend, recounting to him the tale of his unfortunate +illness in Australia, his return home, and the unexpected blow of +Valmai's unrelenting anger and changed feelings towards him, +culminating in her utter rejection of him, and refusal to live with him. + +"Astounding!" said Gwynne Ellis, "I will not believe it. It is a moral +impossibility that that loving nature and candid mind, could ever so +change in their characteristics, as to refuse to listen to reason, and +that from the lips of one whom she loved so passionately, as she did +you." + +"That is my feeling," said Cardo, "but alas! I have her own words to +assure me of the bitter truth. 'If I ever loved you,' she said, 'I +have ceased to do so, and I feel no more love for you now, than I do +for yonder ploughman.' In fact, Ellis, I could not realise while I was +speaking to her that she was the same girl. It was Valmai's lovely +outward form, indeed, but the spirit within her seemed changed. Are +such things possible?" + +Ellis puffed away in silence for some seconds before he replied: + +"Anything--everything is possible now-a-days; there is such a thing as +hypnotism, thought transference--obsession--what will you? And any of +these things I will believe sooner, than that Valmai Wynne can have +changed. Cheer up, old fellow! I was born to pilot you through your +love affairs, and now here's a step towards it." And from a drawer in +his escritoire he drew out an ordnance map of the county of Monmouth. + +"Now, let me see, where lies this wonderful place, Carne Hall, did you +call it? I thought so; here it is within two miles of my new church. +In a month I shall be installed into that 'living,' and my first duty +when I get there shall be to find out your wife, Cardo, and to set you +right in her estimation." + +"Never," said Cardo; "she has encased herself in armour of cold and +haughty reserve, which not even your persuasive and cordial manners +will break through." + +"Time will show; I have a firm conviction, that I shall set things +straight for you, so cheer up my friend, and await what the wonderful +Gwynne Ellis can do for you. But you look very tired." + +"Yes, I will go to bed," said Cardo. + +"And to-morrow we'll have a tramp round the parish, and visit some of +the old fogies in their cottage. A mongrel sort, neither Welsh nor +English; not so interesting as your queer-looking old people down at +Abersethin. Good-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE MEREDITHS + +There is no part of Wales more rural and unspoilt by the inroads of +what is called "civilisation" than some of the secluded valleys lying +between the Radnorshire hills. Here Nature still holds her own, and +spreads her pure and simple charms before us. Large tracts of moor and +rushy fen are interspersed with craggy hills, rising one behind another +in lovely shades of purple and blue; and far from the haunts of men, or +at all events of town men, many acres of uncultivated land are still +tenanted by the wild mountain pony and the picturesque gipsy. On the +edge of one of these moors stood a quaint old family mansion, +surrounded by extensive grounds and woods. In front lay a descending +plain of varied beauty, green meadows, winding streams, and placid +lakelets; behind it, the wild vales and moor stretched up to the brown +and blue hills. + +Colonel Meredith had lived there all his life, his ancestors before +him, and here it was that Valmai had found a home as companion to the +delicate eldest daughter of the family, who was delighted to find in +her so congenial a friend. Her beauty had made a great impression upon +the whole amiable family, as good looks often do upon people who cannot +boast of the same advantages. It was a good thing that the girl had no +vanity in her character, for her charms were continually brought before +her in the household. Her pet name was "Beauty," and Colonel Meredith +was fond of dilating upon her attractions of person wherever he went. +Cecil, a boy of sixteen, was completely her slave, and considered +himself the victim of a hopeless passion; while the girls vied with +each other in their love and adulation of their friend, so Valmai led +at least an outwardly calm and happy life. Her character had developed +rapidly during the last two years, and she found herself, to her own +surprise, possessed of a power of repression and a control over her +emotions which she would have thought impossible a few years earlier. +The memory of Cardo, the glamour of their rural courtship, the bliss of +their honeymoon, his departure and her subsequent sorrows, were kept +locked in the deepest recesses of her soul, and only recalled during +the silent hours of the night. She had become less impatient of the +stripes of sorrow; she had taken the "angel of suffering" to her heart +with meek resignation, endeavouring to make of her a friend instead of +an enemy, and she reaped the harvest always garnered by patience and +humility. But forgotten? No, not a tender word--not a longing +wish--not a bitter regret was forgotten! She seemed to lead two +separate lives--one, that of the petted and admired friend of the +Merediths; the other, that of the lonely, friendless girl who had lost +all that made life dear to her. Gwladys's love alone comforted her, +and the frequent visits which they paid to each other were a source of +great happiness to both. Her invalid charge soon benefited much by her +presence, and was really so far recovered that there was scarcely any +further need for Valmai's companionship, but she was glad to stay on as +a visitor and friend of the family. She was reading to Miss Meredith +one evening in the verandah, when Gwen and Winifred came bounding up +the steps from the lawn, hatless and excited. + +"Oh, fancy, Beauty; we are going to have a visitor--a young man, too! a +friend of Dr. Belton's in Australia; he is travelling about somewhere, +and will come here to-morrow. Won't it be jolly? He writes to say he +is bringing a note of introduction from Dr. Belton, who wished him to +call and give us a personal account of him. I don't tell you, Mifanwy, +anything about it, because you are quite above these things; but Winnie +and I are looking forward to see Cecil's black looks when the stranger +falls in love with Beauty, which he will do, of course!" + +"When you stop to take breath I will ask a question," said the more +sober Mifanwy. "What is the young man's name?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Gwen. "Papa stuffed the letter in his pocket, +and he has driven off to Radnor, and won't be back till dinner +to-morrow evening. Probably he will drive the young man with him from +the station. Larks, isn't it? I hope he will be a good tennis player." + +And she waltzed down the verandah as she went. + +"What a girl!" said Mifanwy. + +Valmai smiled pensively. The word "Australia" had wakened sad +memories, which had to be controlled and driven back at once. + +"Let us go in; it is getting late for you," she said. + +And they passed through a French window into the unlighted drawing-room. + +The next evening Colonel Meredith returned, and, as Gwen had foretold, +brought with him the expected visitor. The girl ran excitedly into +Valmai's room. + +"He is awfully handsome, dear. I have just taken a peep at him through +the hall window as he alighted. He'll be seated opposite to you at +dinner, but _next_ to _me_, and I mean to make the best of my +opportunity. You'll see how charming I can be in spite of my plain +face." + +And off she went, singing as usual, to return in another moment and ask: + +"What dress are you going to wear, Beauty? That soft white cashmere? +Oh, you look sweet in that, but I bet you a button that I'll cut you +out to-night." + +As Valmai sat down at the dinner-table she was conscious that the +stranger sat opposite to her, and, looking across at him, met the eyes +of Cardo Wynne! + +A sharp spasm darted through her heart, for at the moment in which she +had met his gaze she had seen his look averted from her; and the +long-cherished hopes of months and faith in his constancy, held to +through so many discouraging circumstances, gave way at a glance, for +well she knew that Cardo had recognised her, and at the same moment had +avoided her eyes, and had turned to make a remark to his neighbour +Gwen. She bent her head over some trifling adjustment of her +waistband, while the hot flush of wounded love and pride rose to her +face, to give place to a deathly pallor as she realised that this was +the outcome of all her hopes and longings. + +Fortunately the pink tints of the lamp-shade hid her face, and equally +it befriended Cardo, for, on seeing before him Valmai in all the beauty +with which his imagination and his memory had endowed her, he had felt +his heart stand still and his face blanch to the lips. How he gained +sufficient self-control to make a casual remark to his neighbour he +never could understand, but he did; and while he was recalling the +scene in "The Velvet Walk," and his promise to Valmai "that should he +ever meet her again she need fear no sign of recognition from him," +Gwen chattered on with volubility. All he heard was: + +"Oh, you positively must fish, you know, for there is nothing else to +be done here. One day you must fish, next day you ride or drive, next +day you fish again; and that's all, except tennis. Winnie and I do +nothing else. In the evening Beauty sings to us, and there's +beautifully she sings. You'll be charmed with her voice--sweet, old +Welsh airs, you know--" + +"Hush, Gwen; stop that chatter. I want to ask Mr. Wynne something +about Dr. Belton." + +"Oh, papa! all the way from the station, and you didn't ask him about +Dr. Belton!" + +Cardo was thankful to have to talk to Colonel Meredith, for it enabled +him to turn his head aside, though still he was conscious of that white +figure opposite him, with the golden head and the deep blue eyes. + +She had regained her composure, and was talking calmly to the curate, +who was laying before her his plans for a Sunday school treat. It is +one of the bitter trials of humanity that it has to converse about +trifles while the heart is breaking. If only the tortured one could +rush away to some lonely moor, there to weep and wail to his heart's +content, the pain would not be so insufferable; but in life that cannot +be, and Valmai smiled and talked platitudes with a martyr's patience. + +In the drawing-room, after dinner, she buried herself in the old, red +arm-chair, setting herself to endure her misery to the bitter end. +When Cardo entered with Colonel Meredith, Cecil, and the curate, she +had passed from agonised suffering to the cold insensibility of a +stone. She knew she would wake again when the evening was over, and +she was alone with her sorrow; but now she had but to bear and wait. + +It would be impossible to describe Cardo's feelings; indeed, he felt, +as he entered the room, and saw that white figure in the crimson chair, +that he had already passed through the bitterness of death. + +"Nothing more can hurt me," he thought; "after this I can defy every +evil power to do me harm!" And he stood in his old attitude with his +elbow leaning on the mantelpiece, while he answered Gwen's frivolous, +and Winifred's sentimental, questions. + +"Are you fond of music?" one of them said at last. "Yes? Oh! Beauty, +dear, do come and sing to us--that sweet ballad you sing so often, you +know--'By Berwen Banks'." + +"Not to-night," said a soft voice from the armchair. "I am tired, +Gwen. You sing, dear." + +"Well, I'll sing that, if you won't." + +And she sang it; and Valmai and Cardo, "so near and yet so far," +estranged and miserable, listened to every word, which fell on their +memories like searing drops of molten lead. + + "By Berwen's banks my love has strayed + For many a day in sun and shade; + And when she carolled loud and clear + The little birds flew down to hear. + + "By Berwen's banks the storm rode high, + The swollen river rushing by; + And in its waves my love was drowned, + And on its banks my love was found. + + "I'll ne'er forget that leafy shade, + I'll ne'er forget that winsome maid; + But there no more she carols free, + So Berwen's banks are sad to me!" + + +At the last words, during the acclamations of the family, Valmai rose, +unable to bear more. There was a little cry and a soft fall by the +side of the red chair, and she lay in a white, unconscious heap on the +floor. + +"Oh! Beauty, darling!" cried Gwen and Winifred, in a breath, while +they flew towards her. + +Cardo, too, had instinctively rushed towards the fallen figure. He +lifted her in his strong arms as though she had been a feather-weight. + +"Oh! thank you, Mr. Wynne," said Mrs. Meredith; "this way, please, to +her own room at once, where we can lay her on the couch." + +And with the whole family forming a _queue_ behind them, even the +curate standing on the mat at the bottom, Cardo bore her up the +staircase and into the room which Mrs. Meredith indicated. + +During a little distraction, caused by Gwen's pommelling of the sofa +cushions, Cardo for a moment lost control over his feelings, and he +pressed Valmai's form convulsively to his breast as he stooped to lay +her down on the couch. He was quickly edged away by the fluttering +womenkind who pressed round, each with her own restorative; a little +sigh from Valmai told him that she was already recovering, and casting +one lingering look of love on the white figure, he made his way +downstairs, and joined the other gentlemen, who had straggled back into +the drawing-room. He listened absently to the different conjectures as +to what had caused Valmai's faint. + +"Never knew her do such a thing before!" said Colonel Meredith. "Can't +think what it was; but I do remember once she burst into tears when she +was singing some old Welsh ballad--that very one, I think--yes--'By +Berwen Banks'--strange coincidence!" + +In a little while the ladies returned also. "She is all right now," +they said, "and quite ashamed of herself; she has had a glass of wine +and a biscuit, and insisted upon our leaving her--in fact, she turned +us all out of the room and bolted the door." + +"Isn't she a lovely girl, Mr. Jones?" + +"Oh! yes, indeed--yes--very, indeed!" and Mrs. Meredith was delighted +to have an excuse for dilating on her visitor's charms of person and +character; while Cardo set himself to work to deliver himself of every +message which Dr. Belton had entrusted to him. + +He bore Colonel Meredith's cross-examination with unflinching patience, +and even suggested fresh topics of inquiry, for, while he had carried +Valmai up the stairs he had come to the determination to leave the +house before he saw her again. The strain of the situation was more +than he could bear. To live under the same roof with her, and not to +claim her for his own was impossible--to adhere to the terms of his +promise, never to allude to his former acquaintance with her was +utterly beyond his power. "Base--dishonourable!" Could it have been +Valmai who spoke to him in these terms? or was he the victim of some +strange hallucination? + +When at last the evening came to an end, he thankfully lighted his +candle at the hall table, the whole family hovering round with various +hopes that "he would sleep well," "that he didn't mind a feather-bed," +"that he didn't mind the sun shining in in the morning." "You can +close the shutters, you know. Good-night." + +"What time does the post come in the morning?" he asked. + +"Oh! at seven o'clock; you can have your letters brought up if you +wish; but we always like to have them on our plates at breakfast. Bob +will bring yours up." + +"If it's no trouble," said Cardo. + +There was a whole chorus of "certainly not!" "of course not!" under +cover of which he made his way safely round the turning on the +stair-case. He stepped wearily up the second flight of stairs; there +was her room! and he groaned almost audibly as he turned into his own. + +Inside that bolted door, a listening ear had caught every vibration of +his footstep, every tone of his voice, and a tear-stained face was now +raised in agonised prayer, over folded hands which held in their clasp +a ring hung on a white satin ribbon. + +The exclamations of disappointment and regret next morning, when +Cardo's empty seat at the breakfast table disclosed their guest's +absence, were loud as they were sincere. + +"How unfortunate!" said Colonel Meredith. "I meant to have taken him +out fishing to-day; there was a little rain in the night and the Ithon +would have been perfect for trout to-day. Here's his note:-- + +"DEAR COLONEL MEREDITH--I am grieved to say that some unexpected +circumstances necessitate my leaving your hospitable roof and returning +home to Cardiganshire at once. I shall walk to the station and catch +the 7.30 train. Please tender my heart-felt thanks to Mrs. Meredith, +and all the other members of your family for their kindness and +hospitality. I hope to call upon them at another time, and express my +regrets and thanks in person. + +"With many thanks to you also, + + "I remain, + + "Yours truly, + + "CARADOC WYNNE." + + +Colonel Meredith was reading the last words as Valmai entered and took +her place at the breakfast table. + +"Isn't it a shame, Beauty," said Gwen. "Just as I was beginning to +make a favourable impression upon him, too! There must have been +something in the letter Bob took up to him this morning." + +"Oh, of course," said her father; "fine young fellow--very!" + +"Awfully handsome, I call him," said Winifred; "such a sparkle in his +eyes!" + +"Beauty wasn't smitten," said Gwen. + +"On the contrary, she was so smitten she fainted," said Winnie; "you +are still rather pale, dear. Papa, wouldn't it be a jolly day for a +picnic by the Ithon?" + +"Yes," said the Colonel; "bring your lunch down in the brake, and we'll +light a fire by the carn, and broil the fish, for I am sure we shall +get a basketful to-day--eh! eh! Cecil?" + +"Yes--and the drive will do Miss Powell good," said the lad, who was in +good spirits from having so easily got rid of Cardo. + +And after breakfast they all drove off to the picnic, and Cardo's +arrival and his departure were forgotten by all save one. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +GWLADYS. + +The week that followed Gwynne Ellis's induction to his new living had +been too full of business to allow him to call upon his near +neighbours, the most influential member of his congregation, Mrs. +Besborough Power of Carne Hall; but soon afterwards he began to look +around him and make acquaintance with his parishioners. + +The Vicarage was large and his ideas of furnishing were limited, so +that after arranging and rearranging every room in the house he still +looked at them with a dissatisfied air. + +"I don't know how it is, father; in spite of all this handsome +furniture you have given me, there seems something wanting, doesn't +there?" + +"Don't see it," said the old man, "unless it is that wonderful piece of +furniture--a wife--you want." + +"Perhaps, but that will have to wait," and as he drew his handkerchief +over the shining face of the sideboard he thought within himself, +"Where shall I find one? There are not two Valmai's in the world, and +I declare she has spoiled me for every other woman. By the by, I must +call on Mrs. Besborough Power, and see if I can't bring her visitor +into a better frame of mind." + +The next day saw him entering the pleasant drawing-room at Carne Hall, +where Mrs. Power was as usual dozing in her arm-chair, with a piece of +wool-work in her hand, upon which she sometimes worked a few stitches +while she purred a little remark to Gwladys, who sat nearer the window, +making believe to work also. She had already remarked, "Auntie, this +is the new Vicar, I am sure," when the door opened and Gwynne Ellis +entered. + +Having shaken hands with Mrs. Power, he turned to Gwladys with a smile +of greeting. + +"Valmai!" he said, "I beg pardon--Mrs.--" + +"No," said Gwladys, drawing herself up, "I am Gwladys Powell, Valmai's +sister--but do you know her?" + +"Know her? well!" said Gwynne Ellis; "but I have never seen such an +extraordinary likeness." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Power, "they are twins, and apart, it is almost +impossible to distinguish one from the other." + +"Where is she?" he asked, "is she here?" + +"No," answered Gwladys, "she has been here, but is now staying with +some friends of ours in Radnorshire." + +"Ah! I see, I am sorry; I should like to have seen her, but I can +scarce say I miss her while you are present, for I certainly see no +difference between you." + +Gwladys was more talkative than usual. She and Mrs. Power were +pleasantly impressed, and congratulated themselves upon having gained +an agreeable addition to their very limited social circle in the person +of their new Vicar. + +"This is a charming neighbourhood. I saw by a little glint of +sunshine, as I came up the drive, that you have a pond or lake in that +firwood; and that is always tempting to an artist. Do you draw, Miss +Powell?" + +"Yes," said Gwladys. "My efforts are very humble, but I have one +drawing of the lake." And she fetched it from a portfolio. + +"Show him all your drawings, dear," said Mrs. Power; "or, better still, +would you like to see the lake, Mr Ellis?" + +"If it would not tire Miss Powell to show it me--" + +"Oh, no! I can take you by it to the west gate, it will shorten your +way home." + +"But not yet, here is tea," said Mrs. Power; and they were soon +chatting over all the parish news. + +At last Ellis rose to go, and Gwladys, putting on a broad-brimmed straw +hat, passed out before him through the window--Mrs. Power detaining +them with endless directions as to where to stop, where to turn to look +at the sun through the fir trees, where to look back for a view of the +house, etc., etc. + +"This walk is lovely," said Ellis, as he watched the graceful movements +of his companion, who glided over the velvet carpet of moss with +noiseless footsteps, reminding him of a guardian spirit who walked +silently beside some hum-drum man of the world. + +"I wonder Valmai never mentioned you to me," she said. + +"Did she not?" he asked thoughtfully. "Did she never mention +Abersethin, Brynderyn, and the Berwen?" + +"No, they are all strange names to me, except Abersethin; she lived +there after her return from Patagonia." + +Ellis was lost in thought again. "I should like to have seen her; I +have something important to discuss with her." + +"She is coming here the week after next, and then you can speak to her +about this interesting subject," said Gwladys. + +And Ellis thought he saw a look of displeasure on the lovely face. +Certainly he had never seen that in Valmai; but then, on the contrary, +there was a high-souled nobility of purpose in his present companion's +looks which was absent in Valmai. + +"I daresay when I have seen her she will tell you about all these +places." + +"My sister shall do as she pleases," said Gwladys, a sweet smile +chasing away the momentary look of anger; "it will make no difference +in our love for each other--she is part of me, and the best part; I am +part of her, and the worst part." + +When they reached the west gate, both were surprised to find that +half-an-hour had slipped away. + +"I will bring my portfolio," said Ellis, as he took his leave, "and you +will help me to find the best view of the lake." + +During the next fortnight, Mrs. Power received frequent calls from the +new Vicar; she was delighted with her neighbour, and did everything in +her power to make his visits as pleasant to him as they were to +herself. His paintings were a never-ending source of interest and +admiration to her, and when he proposed to make a sketch of the lake, +with its background of fir trees, and glint of blue sky, she was +charmed with the idea, and almost every day she and Gwladys accompanied +him down the "Velvet Walk" and settled him to his painting, and Gwladys +was sent on frequent journeys of inspection during the afternoon. + +"Go and see how he is progressing, dear." And she would go and linger +over the picture with comments and praise; but it must be confessed +that the drawing progressed more rapidly during her absence than during +these visits of inspection. + +One afternoon she came running down the "Velvet Walk" with an open +letter in her hand, and a distressed look in her eyes. + +"Oh, Mr. Ellis! such a disappointment! Valmai is not coming this week. +She has been feeling unwell lately, and the doctor advises a thorough +change for her, so she and Mifanwy Meredith are thinking of going to +Switzerland. Hear what she says:--'Mifanwy is longing for the Swiss +lakes and mountains, and wishes me to accompany her. I suppose I may +as well do so; but I must first make a hurried journey down to +Abersethin, and to see you on my way back. I hear from Dr. Francis +that dear old Nance is very ill, and it will depend upon how I find her +whether I go to Switzerland or not." + +"Now, isn't that vexing! You would feel for me if you knew what Valmai +is to me! I seem to love her with all the accumulation of love which +had missed its object for so many long years before we met." + +Gwynne Ellis was looking seriously into the distance. + +"I do feel for you, Miss Powell; but don't think me a brute if I say I +am not sorry she's gone--something good may come of it." + +"I can't understand you," she said, seating herself on a log in front +of him. "You have never told me how you became acquainted with her. +Have you known her from childhood?" + +"Oh, dear, no," said Ellis, laying aside his painting, and stretching +himself on the mossy bank. "I will tell you all about it; it is very +simple. Being rather out of health about two years ago, I went down to +Abersethin to stay at the Vicar's house, he being an old friend of my +father's. I found his son, Caradoc Wynne, a fine fellow--a splendid +specimen of a Welsh country gentleman--and he and I became great +friends during the three months that I spent there." + +Gwladys's blue eyes opened in astonishment. + +"Caradoc Wynne?" she said, in an anxious tone, which surprised her +companion. + +"Yes. Generally known as Cardo Wynne at Abersethin. I found him over +head and ears in love with Valmai Powell--your sister, it seems, though +I had no idea she had a sister. His rhapsodies about her amused me at +first; but when I saw how deeply in earnest he was, I sympathised with +him, and took a great interest in the progress of their courtship. His +father and her uncle--one being the Vicar of the parish, and the other +a Methodist preacher--hated each other with a deadly hatred--but you +are looking pale," he said anxiously. "What is it? Am I saying +anything to disturb you?" + +"Oh, yes! but go on. Tell me about this Cardo Wynne." + +"Well, it's a sad story. They were married; I married them without the +knowledge of the two opinionated old men--I hope I sha'n't fall too low +in your estimation, Miss Powell." + +"Oh! no, no! go on, please. Every word you say is like water to a +thirsty man. They were married?" + +"Yes, safe enough; and straight from the church porch they separated, +for he was leaving for Australia that afternoon at his father's earnest +request, with the idea of making peace between him and a brother whom +he had offended many years ago. Well, I heard no more of Cardo for +nearly two years, when I received a letter from him from Australia, +telling me of the series of misfortunes which had detained him there so +long. First of all, a serious attack of typhoid fever, and a blow on +the head which occasioned concussion of the brain. He was carried +unconscious to a hospital, and remained there many months, utterly +oblivious of all around him, as no operation had been attempted on his +skull, nobody knowing of the blow he had received. One of the visiting +doctors at the hospital took him home with him as an 'interesting +case,' and then he discovered the indented bit of bone which was +pressing upon the brain, and causing first the unconsciousness, and +afterwards a complete lapse of memory. Poor old Cardo! the jolliest +fellow in the world. What must he have felt when memory returned after +a successful operation, and he realised that Valmai and his father were +utterly ignorant of his whereabouts." + +"Oh, stop, stop," said Gwladys, "oh! what shall I do? Mr. Ellis, I +dread to hear the end, and yet I must; go on, please." + +"Well, it's very sad. Poor old Cardo returned home at once, and +finding Valmai gone from Abersethin made his way up here. Did you see +him?" + +Gwladys could scarcely gasp "Yes!" + +"Then no doubt you know how she repulsed him, and taunted him with +wilful desertion of her--desertion, indeed! that honest Cardo, whose +very soul was bound up in her! Had I not heard it from his own lips, I +could never have believed that Valmai would have used the words 'base +and dishonourable' to Cardo Wynne. He is broken-hearted, and really, +if she perseveres in this unwarranted indignation, I think it will kill +him; and that is why I wanted to see her, for I still believe there +must be some mistake." + +"Mistake! yes, yes, a horrible mistake. She never saw him at all. It +was I who spoke those cruel words to him!" + +"Miss Powell! you! how can I believe such a thing?" + +"Yes, yes, you must believe," she said, wringing her hands, "it is I +who have broken my sister's heart--the sister whom I would die to save +a moment's pain." And she rose to her feet, though her limbs trembled +with excitement. "It is my turn now to tell my story, and when I have +finished you will despise me, and you will have good reason." + +"Never!" he said, "I can never feel anything towards you but--but--what +I must not dare to tell you." + +A vivid blush swept over Gwladys's face; but the troubled look +returned, as Ellis, gently taking her hand, led her back to the log of +wood, and sitting beside her, said: + +"Now, tell me everything." + +"I must go a long way back," she said, "and begin with my own +uninteresting affairs. You know that Mrs. Power looks upon me as her +own daughter, and has expressed her intention of leaving me all her +money. Money! hateful money! the one thing I never cared about. I +should be happier far in a little cottage than I am here surrounded by +all these luxuries--it is true, Mr. Ellis, my tastes are simple." + +"Certainly, you would grace a cottage or a palace alike," he said, +almost under his breath; "but we must all accept the position in which +we are placed, and do our best in that." + +"Well," resumed Gwladys, "I have had three proposals of marriage, and +on each occasion my aunt pressed me to accept the offer. I refused to +do so, unless I were allowed time and opportunity to make the most +exhaustive inquiries as to my disinterested lover's antecedents. My +heart not being touched, I was able to do so dispassionately, and in +each case I discovered something dishonourable in their characters. +One I found was on the brink of pecuniary ruin, I therefore considered +I had a right to think he loved my fortune and not myself. The next, +though a man of honour and probity, I found had such an ungovernable +temper that his own sisters failed to live with him. The third was a +widower. He had broken his wife's heart by his cruelty, and since her +death his life had been one long scene of dissipation. Was it any +wonder that I rejected them all? and learnt to distrust and almost to +hate every man? + +"When Valmai came here I soon found out enough of her story to prove to +me, as I thought, that she had been weak where I had been strong; that +she had given her heart, with all its precious love, to one of the same +type of manhood as it had been my ill-fortune to meet; and when, one +evening as I walked here by the lake, a young man followed me and +addressed me as Valmai, the only feeling that rushed into my mind and +possessed my whole being might be expressed in these words--'Here is +the murderer of my sister's happiness; at any risk I will keep him from +her. She is happy and calm now; he shall never again disturb her peace +of mind, if I can help it.' + +"He was so completely under the illusion that I was Valmai that I had +no occasion to tell a lie, and I only spoke the truth when I told him +that I hated him, and that my greatest desire was never to see his face +again. He was wounded to the quick. I saw it, I realised it all, and, +oh, I felt for him, for there was something open and winsome about +him--something that tempted me to trust him; but I hardened my heart, +and I added him to my list of unworthy men. I left him here and went +into the house, feeling utterly miserable; but I comforted myself with +the thought that I had done Valmai good service. And now--oh, now!--I +am more miserable than ever; for I see what harm I have done. I meant +to do good, Mr. Ellis, believe me. I thought I was doing dear Valmai a +real kindness, and now what shall I do? I have ruined her hopes of +happiness, and I have lost your good opinion and friendship." + +"Never!" said Ellis. "I see exactly how you felt, and can enter into +your feelings thoroughly; it only grieves me to think what a low +opinion you have formed of men in general." + +"You see," said Gwladys, bending her head, "I have led such a retired +life, and have known so few men--none intimately, except those three." + +"Let me dare, then, to hope that in time you will come to believe that +all men are not like the miserable specimens whom you have met. Will +you believe that _I_, at least, am only _sorry_ to hear you will be so +rich? I cannot expect you to believe me, but it is the truth." + +"Yes, I believe you," she said. + +"Then let us see what we can do to retrieve your mistake. Will you +take my word for it that Cardo Wynne is all that is honourable and +true?" + +"Yes, oh, yes; I am sure he would not be your friend if he were not so." + +"Then the path is easy and plain before us. You will write to Valmai, +and I will write to Cardo, and the cloud that has darkened their path +lately will be swept away, and your hand and mine will be permitted to +let in the light." + +"I don't deserve such happiness," she said. + +Ellis felt tempted to say, "Yes, your deep love for your sister made +you do this, and it richly deserves this fulfilment of its endeavours," +but he did not, and the omission was noticed by Gwladys, but it did not +tell against him. + +They sat some time in silent thought, Gwladys's little foot tossing up +the moss. + +"I have not told auntie, but I should like to do so now." + +"I think you are right," said Ellis, gathering his painting +paraphernalia together; "let us go and tell her at once." + +There was something delightful even in the simple fact of "going +together" to tell Mrs. Power the story of Valmai's sorrow and Gwladys's +mistake, and when he left it was with the clear understanding that they +should not let a day pass without enlightening Cardo and Valmai. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +INTO THE SUNSHINE, + +There was quite a chorus of regrets and good-byes in the quiet little +country station from which Valmai started on her journey to +Cardiganshire. + +"Good-bye, Miss Powell," said Colonel Meredith, who had driven her down +to meet the train, accompanied by his whole family. "No one will +lament your absence or rejoice at your return more than I shall, not +excepting this sentimental young man," and he pointed to Cecil, who was +putting on an air of even greater dejection than usual. + +He did not deign to answer his father except by a look of indignation +that set Gwen and Winifred laughing; but when the train was absolutely +moving, he managed to secure the last hand-clasp, and leave a bunch of +forget-me-nots in Valmai's hand. + +"Good-bye, Beauty, darling," shouted Gwen; while all the others joined +in a chorus of "Write soon!" + +Valmai placed the flowers in her waistband with an amused smile. "Poor +boy," she thought. "What a good thing it rained last night; there will +be splendid fishing to-day in the Ithon, and he will forget all about +me if he gets his basket full." And she settled herself down +comfortably in the corner of the carriage, and proceeded to open a +letter which she had found on her plate at breakfast, but which she had +hitherto found no time to read. It was from Gwladys, she knew, but she +was somewhat astonished at its length, and turning over the leaves once +or twice saw it was very closely written and had many words underlined. +"What can it be about?" was her thought as she read the first words, +"My own beloved sister--" + +There was no one in the carriage to notice the varied expressions on +her face as she read the closely-written pages; but had anyone been +there to see the rapturous happiness which lightened up her features +and brightened her eyes as she drew towards the conclusion, they would +have wondered what joyful information could have so entranced and +delighted the girl who entered the carriage, although with a serene and +peaceful countenance, yet with a certain plaintive wistfulness in the +shadows of her blue eyes, which betokened no exemption from the +ordinary fate of mankind. But now! what unspeakable joy, what ecstatic +delight seemed to infuse fresh life and vigour to the fragile, graceful +form! For a few moments she crossed her hands on her bosom, and with +closed eyes remained silent; then, starting up and pacing backwards and +forwards in the limited space of a railway carriage, she gave the rein +to her delight and let her thoughts drop out in words of uncontrolled +expression. + +"Cardo, oh, Cardo! what happiness for me at last, and for you, +dearest--it shall be for you, too! Oh, I see it all. He sought me out +and found Gwladys, and the strong, strange likeness between us deceived +him, though I cannot think how that was possible. Did he not feel the +difference? Let me see--what does she say?" And again she read +Gwladys's repentant, beseeching words. "Can you ever forgive me, +darling? I tried to look as like you as possible, and I tried to be as +harsh as I could at the same time. 'If I ever loved you,' I said, 'I +have ceased to do so, and my greatest wish is never to see you again.'" + +"Oh! how dreadful," said Valmai, "how could he bear it? and how he must +have suffered since then; but I will make it all up to him, and now I +understand his conduct the other evening. Oh, you slow old puffing +engine, make haste, and take me to Blaenos Station, then there will be +a whole hour in that crawling coach, and then comes dear Caer Madoc! +and oh! it is market day. Cardo always drives in with Dr. Hughes on +that day, and walks home in the evening. I will walk! It will be like +that dear, happy night when we first met!" And at last her excitement +calming down, she settled herself again into her corner, and while she +sat silent and immovable, she followed out from beginning to end the +incidents of the last few weeks. Although Gwladys's mistaken +interference had caused her such deep sorrow, and such a bitter +experience as that of Cardo's avoidance of her at the Merediths, she +felt nothing but pity for the sister whom she knew would have +sacrificed life itself to save her from trouble. + +As the train sped onwards, between the blue hills and by the silver +streams, her thoughts outran its speed, and in fancy she saw Cardo +hurrying along the high road to meet her at Caer Madoc. And he as he +drove along beside Dr. Hughes, was full of tender longings and thoughts +of her. She seemed to fill the air around him, she seemed to press +upon his inner consciousness with such vividness, that he felt it +difficult to restrain his voice, and prevent himself from calling her +name aloud. + +At last, the evening shadows began to fall over sleepy Caer Madoc, and +Valmai, alighting from the coach in the "Red Dragon" yard, looked round +hurriedly. With her, too, the impression of Cardo's presence had been +so vivid, that she almost expected to see him waiting for her; but no +Cardo was to be seen! After leaving her luggage in the ostler's +charge, she hastened out through the old archway which opened into the +High Street. + +"No, I prefer walking, thank you; you can send my luggage on +to-morrow," she said to the kindly officious man, who followed her to +offer his services as driver, and she turned up the street with a heart +full of exultant hopes. Here were the last straggling houses that +reached up the hilly street, leading to the moor. Her steps were light +and springy, as she followed the familiar road, now almost deserted by +the last pedestrians returning from the market. The sun had set behind +the sea, which she already saw stretching away to the west, a soft grey +haze enfolded the hills which rose before her, and the moon was rising +to her right and blending her silver light with that of the departed +sun, which still left a golden glow over the west. Valmai walked on +steadily until she reached the first milestone, and sitting down beside +it, she rested awhile, almost hidden by its shadow. It was not one of +the modern insignificant, square-cut, stiff stones, but a solid boulder +of granite, one of the many strewn about the moor. She listened +breathlessly to the different sounds that reached her ears, sounds +which seemed to awake in the stillness, as she listened. There was a +faint and distant rumbling of wheels in the town behind her, and surely +some strains of music, which carried her back in memory to another +evening in the past! Down below the cliffs on her left she heard the +mysterious whispering of the sea; in the little coppice across the road +a wood-pigeon cooed her soft "good-night"; and away in the hay-fields, +stretching inland, she heard the corncrakes' grating call; but no human +footstep broke the silence of night. Surely Cardo would have gone to +market on such a lovely day! or, who knows? perhaps he was too sad to +care for town or market? But hark! a footstep on the hard, dry road. +She listened breathlessly as it drew nearer in the gathering grey of +the twilight. Steadily it tramped, tramped on, and peeping round the +milestone, Valmai at last saw a grey figure emerge from the haze. It +was Cardo, she felt sure, and rising at once, she hurried some distance +on the road in a sudden feeling of nervousness. The steady tramp, +tramp came ever nearer, and, looking through the increasing shadows, +she saw distinctly the well-remembered form, the broad shoulders, the +firmly-knit frame, and in a fresh access of nervousness she hurried on +again--putting off the moment of recognition which she longed for, and +endeavouring to reach a hollow in the high bank, where she might lie +hidden until she had regained courage and calmness. + +Meanwhile Cardo, who had driven in to the market with Dr. Hughes in the +morning, had started on his homeward journey just as Valmai was leaving +the town behind her. It had been a lovely day, he had had pleasant +company, and had transacted his business satisfactorily; but a deep and +settled gloom seemed to have fallen upon him, which he was powerless to +shake off. Through the whole tenor of his life ran the distracting +memory of Valmai's unrelenting anger in the Velvet Walk, and of the +bitterness of the subsequent meeting at Colonel Meredith's. As he +stepped along through the summer twilight, and saw the silver moon +which hung above him, his thoughts flew back to the first evening of +his acquaintance with her. Ah! how long ago it seemed, and yet how +everything pertaining to that evening seemed to repeat itself. There +were the strains of the militia band throbbing on the quiet evening +air, just as they did on that eventful evening; and there was even a +grey female figure hurrying before him as before, and Cardo smiled +bitterly as he thought how different everything was, in spite of the +curious "harking back" of all the small circumstances. Awaking from a +reverie, he missed the grey figure; but forgetting her at once, and +again absorbed in thought, he had passed the hollow in the bank, when a +soft voice followed him on the breeze. + +"Cardo!" + +Instantly he turned, and standing still as a statue, watched with +eagerness a grey form which seemed to rise from the hedge. He heard +his own heart beat loudly, and in the still night air he heard the +sough of the sea, and the harsh call of the corncrake. Again the voice +said, "Cardo!" very low and trembling. With one bound he was beside +the speaker, and in the light of the moon Valmai stood plainly +revealed. The sweet eyes glistened as of old, and the night breeze +played with the little curls of gold which escaped from their +restraining coiffure. She held out her hands, and in a moment Cardo's +strong arms were around her. + +"My wild sea-bird," he said, in a passionate whisper, "have you flown +back to me? Valmai, my darling, what does it mean? Have you forgiven +me? Have you repented of those cruel words, dearest? Oh, say it was +not my Valmai who called me 'base and dishonourable.' Speak dearest," +he said, while he showered kisses upon the uncovered head which leant +upon his breast. + +"It was not your Valmai, Cardo. How could you think it possible? It +was not I whom you saw in the Moss Walk. I did not know till to-day, +this very day, that those cruel words were spoken." + +"Let us sit here, my beloved; give me your hand; let me try to realise +this bewildering joy." And hand in hand they sat on the grassy bank, +while the corn-crake called, and the sea heaved and whispered behind +them. + +There, under the golden moon, with endless questions and reiteration of +answers, Valmai told her story and Cardo told his, until the moon rode +high in the sky. Again and again Cardo pressed her to his heart, and +again and again she took his brown hands in her own and laid her cheek +upon them. + +"Oh, Cardo! is it true? or is it all a dream? So suddenly to leave my +sadness and sorrow behind, and to awake to this blessed reality!" And +as they rose to pursue their walk together, Cardo drew her arm through +his, as if afraid for a moment to loosen his hold of her. + +"But your sister, dearest, is _not_ like you! How could I have been +deceived? How could I, for one moment, have thought my gentle darling +would say such cruel things? No, no! you are utterly unlike each +other, though so strangely alike." + +"Well, indeed, Cardo bâch! when you know her you will see how sweet and +beautiful she is! how much wiser and more noble than I! It was her +great love for me, and her desire that I should be happy, that made her +act as she did; and to-morrow you must read her penitent letter, and +learn to forgive her, and to love her for my sake." + +"I will--I will, love; I will forgive anybody, anything, and will love +the whole world now that I have you back again. But oh, Valmai, my +beloved, how shall I ever make up to you for all you have gone through? +I know now you never received my letter written on the _Burrawalla_, +and sent by _The Dundee_, for I have heard of her sad fate. In that, +dearest, I retracted my request that you should keep our marriage a +secret, and you would have been saved all the sorrow you have borne had +you received it. But I will make up to you, dearest, if the devotion +of a lifetime can do so." + +"This is happiness enough to make up for anything," said Valmai; "and I +am glad I was able to keep my promise." + +"Faithful friend, and trustful wife!" answered Cardo. + +"Ah! no," continued Valmai; "I shall never regret having kept my +promise! Indeed, I never felt tempted to break it, except one day, +when, in the old church, I met your father face to face. Never shall I +forget the agonising longing I felt to throw myself at his feet and +tell him all, and mingle my tears with his." + +"He has told me all about it, love, and how he thought it was an angel, +when he first saw you standing there. But let us leave all tales of +sorrow for another day; to-night is for love only, for rapturous joy! +Are we not together, love? and what does anything else matter?" + +"Nothing, nothing," answered Valmai, in words which lost none of their +depth of feeling from being spoken in soft, low tones. + +In silence, which was more eloquent than words, they pursued their way +till they reached the bridge over the Berwen; and as they leant over +its side, and looked into the depths of the woods beneath them, they +recalled all the circumstances of their first meeting. + +"I wish I had bought some gingerbread in the Mwntroyd, Cardo, so that +we might eat it here together. Ah! how it all comes back to me!" + +And as they leant over the bridge he held her hand in his, and with +eyes which sought each other's in the moonlight, they let the time slip +by unheeded. The only sound that rose upon the still night air was the +babbling of the Berwen. + +When at last both had told their story, and every question and answer +had again and again been renewed, and all its side bearings and +suggestions had been satisfactorily explained, the sweet, lisping +sounds of the river flooded their souls with its music. + +"Oh, Cardo! to think we can once more sing together. How different to +that miserable evening at Colonel Meredith's, when you stood aloof, and +Gwen sang the dear old song. I thought it would kill me." + +"And I, darling, when I carried you up in my arms, what did I feel?" + +"Well, indeed, I don't know; but we have had a dreadful experience, +whatever." And presently Valmai began to hum "By Berwen Banks," Cardo +irresistibly joining in with his musical bass, and once again the old +ballad floated down the valley and filled the night with melody. + +"We ought to be going now, or we shall be shut out. I know Nance will +be gone to bed already, but, certainly, there is not much distance +between her bed and the door." + +"Nance!" said Cardo. "No, indeed, my wild sea-bird. I have caught you +now, and never again will I part with you. Home to Brynderyn, dearest, +with me, where my father is longing to fold you in his arms." + +"Anywhere with you, Cardo." And down by the Berwen they took their +way, by the old church, where the white owl hooted at them as they +passed, and down to the shore, where the waves whispered their happy +greetings. + +The "Vicare du," as he sat by his study fire that night, was lost in +thought. A wonderful change had come over his countenance, the gloom +and sternness had disappeared, and a softened and even gentle look had +taken their place. A smile of eager interest crossed his face as he +heard the crunching of the gravel, which announced his son's return. +Betto was already opening the door, and a cry of surprise and gladness +woke an echo in the old man's heart as he hurried along the stone +passage into the parlour. Cardo came in to meet him, leading Valmai, +who hung back a little timidly, looking nervously into the Vicar's pale +face. But the look she saw there banished all her fears, and in +another moment she was clasped in his arms, and in all Wales no happier +family drew round their evening meal that night than the Wynnes of +Brynderyn. + +There is nothing more to be said, except that Gwynne Ellis's letter +awaited Cardo's home-coming, and it shall speak for itself. + + +"DEAR WYNNE,--I write with such mixed feelings, and at the same time in +such a hurry to catch the first possible post, that probably you will +think my letter is a little 'mixed' too. You will guess what was my +astonishment, when calling upon Mrs. Power, to find--not Valmai, but +her twin-sister, Miss Gwladys Powell! My dear Wynne, I was struck dumb +by the likeness between them. I waited eagerly for Valmai's arrival, +which they were daily expecting, and it was not until I heard she was +going to Cardiganshire instead that I mentioned to Gwladys your +marriage to her sister, and the cruel manner in which she had received +you after your long absence. Then came the explanation, which, no +doubt, ere this you have received from Valmai's own lips, for I know +that to-morrow she will see you, having received her sister's letter in +the morning; and the veil will be lifted, and all your sorrow will +disperse like the baseless fabric of a dream. You will see already how +Gwladys, dreading your influence upon the sister whom she thought you +had deceived and deserted, was tempted, by your mistaking her for +Valmai, to impersonate her, and to drive you away from her presence. +Her sorrow and repentance are greater than the occasion demands, I +think, for, after all, it was her deep love for her sister which made +her act in this way; and I am sure that, when you and Valmai have been +reunited and all your joys return, you will have no room in your hearts +for anger against Gwladys. She is the most lovely girl I have ever +seen, except your wife, and her mind and heart are quite worthy of her +beautiful face; indeed, my dear Cardo, she is what I once thought was +not to be found--a second Valmai! In fact I love her, and I am not +without a faint hope that my love is returned. Remember me to Shoni, +and tell him I hope to see him again next spring. And what if I bring +Gwladys down, and we all roam by the Berwen together?--not Shoni! What +can I add more, except that I hope this delicious programme may be +carried out? + +"Yours as of old, + + "GWYNNE ELLIS." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY BERWEN BANKS*** + + +******* This file should be named 18758-8.txt or 18758-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/5/18758 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/18758-8.zip b/18758-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..00223b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/18758-8.zip diff --git a/18758.txt b/18758.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7886ece --- /dev/null +++ b/18758.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10573 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, By Berwen Banks, by Allen Raine + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: By Berwen Banks + + +Author: Allen Raine + + + +Release Date: July 4, 2006 [eBook #18758] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY BERWEN BANKS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +BY BERWEN BANKS + +a Novel + +by + +ALLEN RAINE + +Author of "A Welsh Singer," "Torn Sails," etc. + +111TH THOUSAND + + + + + + + +London +Hutchinson & Co. +Paternoster Row + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. BERWEN BANKS + II. THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF + III. THE SASSIWN + IV. THE STORM + V. GWYNNE ELLIS ARRIVES + VI. CORWEN AND VALMAI + VII. THE VICAR'S STORY + VIII. THE OLD REGISTER + IX. REUBEN STREET + X. THE WEB OF FATE + XI. THE "BLACK DOG" + XII. A CLIMAX + XIII. "THE BABIES' CORNER" + XIV. UNREST + XV. THE SISTERS + XVI. DISPERSING CLOUDS + XVII. HOME AGAIN + XVIII. THE VELVET WALK + XIX. THE MEREDITHS + XX. GWLADYS + XXI. INTO THE SUNSHINE + + + + +BY BERWEN BANKS. + + +CHAPTER I. + +BERWEN BANKS. + +Caer Madoc is a sleepy little Welsh town, lying two miles from the sea +coast. Far removed from the busy centres of civilisation, where the +battle of life breeds keen wits and deep interests, it is still, in the +opinion of its inhabitants, next to London, the most important place in +the United Kingdom. It has its church and three chapels, its mayor and +corporation, jail, town hall, and market-place; but, more especially, +it has its fairs, and awakes to spasmodic jollity on such occasions, +which come pretty often--quite ten times in the year. In the interims +it resigns itself contentedly to its normal state of lethargy. + +The day on which my story opens had seen the busiest and merriest fair +of the year, and the evening found the little town looking jaded and +disreputable after its few hours of dissipation, the dusty High Street +being littered with scraps of paper, orange-peel, and such like +_debris_. The merry-go-rounds and the "shows" had departed, the last +donkey-cart had rattled out of the town, laden with empty gingerbread +boxes. + +In the stable of the Red Dragon three men stooped in conclave over the +hind foot of a horse. Deio, the ostler, and Roberts, the farrier, +agreed in their verdict for a wonder; and Caradoc Wynne, the owner of +the horse, straightened himself from his stooping posture with a nod of +decision. + +"Yes, it's quite plain I mustn't ride him to-night," he said. "Well, +I'll leave him under your care, Roberts, and will either come or send +for him to-morrow." + +"Needn't do that, sir," said Roberts, "for I am going myself to +Abersethin on Friday; that will give him one day's complete rest, and +I'll bring him up gently with my nag." + +"That will do better," said the young man. "Take care of him, Deio," +he added, in good, broad Welsh, "and I will pay you well for your +trouble," and, with a pat on Captain's flank and a douceur in Deio's +ready palm, he turned to leave the yard. Looking back from under the +archway which opened into the street, with a parting injunction to +Roberts to "take care of him," he turned up the dusty High Street. + +"Pagh!" he said, "it has been a jolly fair, but it hasn't sweetened the +air. However, I shall soon have left it behind me," and he stepped out +briskly towards the straggling end of the street, which merged into a +wild moorland country. + +"_There's_ a difference between him and his father," said Deio to his +companion, as they led Captain back to his stall. "See the old 'Vicare +du' hunting between his coppers for a threepenny bit! Jar i man! you +would think it was a sovereign he was looking for." + +"Yes," said Roberts, "the old Vicare is a keen man enough, but just; +always pays his bills regularly; he is not as black as they make him +out to be." + +"No, I daresay! They say the devil isn't, either," said Deio. + +It was very evident the person in question was no favourite of his. + +Meanwhile Caradoc, or Cardo as he was called all over the country side, +the "Vicare du's" only son, had begun his tramp homewards with a light +heart and a brisk step. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with +health and youthful energy expressed in every limb and feature, with +jet black hair and sparkling eyes to match. His dark, almost swarthy +face, was lighted up by a pleasant smile, which seemed ever hovering +about the corners of his mouth, and which would make itself evident in +spite of the moustache which threatened to hide it. + +The band of the local militia was practising in the open market hall as +he passed, and an old Welsh air struck familiarly on his ear. + +"They'll wonder what's become of me at home," he thought, "or rather +Betto will. I don't suppose my father would notice my absence, so long +as I was home to supper. Poor old dad!" he added, and a grave look +came over his face. + +In truth it was not a very cheerful home to which he was returning, but +it _was_ home, and had been his from childhood. It had been the home +also of his ancestors for generations, which, to a Welshman, means a +great deal, for the ties of home are in the very roots of his being. +Home draws him from the furthermost ends of the earth, and leaving it, +adds bitterness even to death. + +His mother had died at his birth, so that the sacred word "mother" had +never been more than a name to him, and he had taught himself to banish +the thought of her from his mind; in fact an indescribable uneasiness +always leapt up within his heart when her name was mentioned, and that +was very rarely, for his father never spoke of her, and old Betto, the +head servant, but seldom, and then with such evident sadness and +reticence, that an undefined, though none the less crushing fear, had +haunted him from childhood upwards. As he stepped out so bravely this +soft spring evening, the look of disquietude did not remain long on his +face. At twenty-four life has not lost its rosy tints; heart, mind, +and body are fresh and free to take a share in all its opening scenes, +more especially if, as in Cardo's case, love, the disturber, has not +yet put in an appearance. + +As he reached the brow of the hill beyond the town, the white dusty +road stretched like a sinuous snake over the moor before him, while on +the left, the sea lay soft and grey in the twilight, and the moon rose +full and bright on his right. The evening air was very still, but an +occasional strain of the band he had left behind him reached his ears, +and with a musical voice he hummed the old Welsh air which came +fitfully on the breeze: + + "By Berwen's banks my love hath strayed, + For many a day in sun and shade; + And while she carols loud and clear, + The little birds fly down to hear. + + "By Berwen's banks the storm rose high, + The swollen river rushing by! + Beneath its waves my love was drowned + And on its banks my love was found!" + + +Suddenly he was aware of a cloaked figure walking about a hundred yards +in front of him. "Who's that, I wonder?" he thought, and then, +forgetting its existence, he continued his song: + + "I'll ne'er forget that leafy shade! + I'll ne'er forget that winsome maid! + But there no more she carols free, + So Berwen's banks are sad to me!" + + +By and by, at a curve in the road, he again noticed the figure in front +of him, and quickened his steps; but it did the same, and the distance +between them was not lessened, so Cardo gave it up, and continued his +song. When the strain came to a natural ending, he looked again with +some interest at the grey figure ever moving on, and still seeming to +keep at the same distance from him. Once more he quickened his steps, +and again the figure did likewise. "Diwss anwl!" he said. "I am not +going to run after an old woman who evidently does not want my +company." And he tramped steadily on under the fast darkening sky. +For quite three miles he had followed the vanishing form, and as he +reached the top of the moor, he began to feel irritated by the +persistent manner in which his fellow-traveller refused to shorten the +distance between them. It roused within him the spirit of resistance, +and he could be very dogged sometimes in spite of his easy manner. +Having once determined, therefore, to come up with the mysterious +pedestrian, he rapidly covered the ground with his long strides, and +soon found himself abreast of a slim girl, who, after looking shyly +aside at him, continued her walk at the same steady pace. The twilight +had darkened much since he had left the town, but the moonlight showed +him the graceful pose of the head, the light, springy tread, and the +mass of golden hair which escaped from the red hood covering her head. +Cardo took off his cap. + +"Good-night to you," he said. "I hope I have not frightened you by so +persistently trying to catch you." + +"Good-night," said the girl. "Yes, indeed, you have, whatever, because +I am not used to be out in the night. The rabbits have frightened me +too, they are looking so large in this light." + +"I am sorry. It is very brave of you to walk all the way from Caer +Madoc alone." + +"To Abersethin it is not so far," said the girl. + +"Do you live at Abersethin?" + +"Yes, not far off; round the edge of the cliffs, under Moel Hiraethog." + +"Oh! I know," said Cardo; "the mill in the valley?" + +"No, round the next shore, and up to the top of the cliff is our house." + +"Traeth Berwen? That is where _I_ live!" + +"Well, indeed!" + +"Yes, I am Caradoc Wynne, and I live at Brynderyn." + +"Oh! are you Cardo Wynne? I have heard plenty about you, and about +your father, the 'Vicare du.'" + +"Ah! poor old dad! I daresay you have not heard much good of him; the +people do not understand him." + +"Well, indeed, the worst I have heard of him is that he is not very +kind to you; that he is making you to work on the farm, when you ought +to be a gentleman." + +"That is not true," said Cardo, flushing in the darkness; "it is my +wish to be a farmer; I like it better than any other work; it is my own +free choice. Besides, can I not be a farmer and a gentleman too? +Where could I be so happy as here at home, where my ancestors have +lived for generations?" + +"Ancestors?" said the girl; "what is that?" + +"Oh! my grandfather and great-grandfather, and all the long dead of my +family." + +"Yes, indeed, I see. Ancestors," she repeated, with a sort of +scheduling tone, as though making sure of the fresh information; "I do +not know much English, but there's good you are speaking it! Can you +speak Welsh?" + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Cardo, and his voice woke the echoes from Moel +Hiraethog, the hill which they were nearing, and which they must +compass before reaching the valley of the Berwen. "Ha! ha! ha! Can I +speak Welsh? Why, I am Welsh to the core, Cymro glan gloyw![1] What +are you?" + +"Oh! Welsh, of course. You can hear that by my talk." + +"Indeed no," said Cardo. "I did not know anyone at Traeth Berwen could +speak English as well as you do." + +He was longing to find out who his fellow-traveller was. He saw in the +dim light she was slim and fair, and had a wealth of golden hair; he +saw her dress was grey and her hood was red. So much the moonlight +revealed, but further than this he could not discover, and politeness +forbade his asking. As if in answer to his thoughts, however, her next +words enlightened him. + +"I am Valmai Powell, the niece of Essec Powell, the preacher." + +A long, low whistle escaped from the young man's lips. + +"By Jove!" he said. + +The girl was silent, but could he have seen the hot blush which spread +over her face and neck, he would have known that he had roused the +quick Welsh temper. He was unconscious of it, however, and strode on +in silence, until they reached a rough-built, moss-grown bridge, and +here they both stopped as if by mutual consent. Leaning their elbows +on the mossy stone wall, they looked down to the depths below, where +the little river Berwen babbled and whispered on its way to the sea. + +"There's a nice noise it is making down there," said Valmai. "But why +do you say a bad word when I tell you my uncle's name?" + +"A bad word? In your presence? Not for the world! But I could not +help thinking how shocked my father and your uncle would be to see us +walking together." + +"Yes, I think, indeed," said the girl, opening a little basket and +spreading its contents on the low wall. "See!" she said, in almost +childish tones, and turning her face straight to the moonlight. + +Cardo saw, as he looked down at her, that it was a beautiful face. + +"See!" she said, "gingerbread that I bought in that old street they +call 'The Mwntroyd.' Here is a silver ship, and here is a gold watch, +and a golden girl. Which will you have?" + +"Well, indeed, I am as hungry as a hunter," said Cardo. "I will have +the lassie, if you are sure you have enough for two." + +"Anwl! anwl! I have a lamb and a sheep and some little pigs in my +basket." And she proceeded to spread them out and divide them; and +they continued to chat as they ate their gilded gingerbread. + +"Suppose your uncle and my father knew we were standing on the same +bridge and looking at the same moon," said Cardo, laughing. + +"And eating the same gingerbread," added Valmai. + +"My word! There would be wrath." + +"Wrath?" said the girl, looking thoughtfully up in her companion's +face; "what is that?" + +"Oh, something no one could feel towards you. 'Wrath' is anger." + +"My uncle is angry sometimes with me, and--too--with--with--" + +"My father, I suppose?" said Cardo. + +"Yes, indeed," said the girl; "that is true, whatever. Every Wednesday +evening at the prayer-meeting he is praying for the 'Vicare du,' and +Betto told me last week that the Vicare is praying for my uncle on +Tuesday evenings." + +"Oh, Lord! has it come to that?" said Cardo. "Then I'm afraid we can +never hope for peace between them." + +They both laughed, and the girl's rippling tones mingled musically in +Cardo's ears with the gurgle of the Berwen. + +"It is getting late," she said, "we had better go on; but I must say +good-night here, because it is down by the side of the river is my way +to Dinas. You will be nearer to keep on the road till you cross the +valley." + +"No, indeed," said the young man, already preparing to help his +companion over the stone stile. "I will go down by the Berwen too." + +"Anwl," said Valmai, clasping her hands; "it will be a mile further for +you, whatever." + +"A mile is nothing on such a night as this." + +And down to the depths of the dark underwood they passed, by a steep, +narrow path, down through the tangled briers and bending ferns, until +they reached the banks of the stream. The path was but little defined, +and evidently seldom trodden; the stream gurgled and lisped under the +brushwood; the moon looked down upon it and sparkled on its ripples; +and as Valmai led the way, chatting in her broken English, a strange +feeling of happy companionship awoke in Cardo Wynne's heart. + +After threading the narrow pathway for half-a-mile or so, they reached +a sudden bend of the little river, where the valley broadened out +somewhat, until there was room for a grassy, velvet meadow, at the +further corner of which stood the ruins of the old parish church, +lately discarded for the new chapel of ease built on the hillside above +the shore. + +"How black the ruins look in that corner," said Cardo. + +"Yes, and what is that white thing in the window?" said Valmai, in a +frightened whisper, and shrinking a little nearer to her companion. + +"Only a white owl. Here she comes sailing out into the moonlight." + +"Well, indeed, so it is. From here we can hear the sea, and at the +beginning of the shore I shall be turning up to Dinas." + +"And I suppose I must turn in the opposite direction to get to +Brynderyn," said Cardo. "Well, I have never enjoyed a walk from Caer +Madoc so much before. Will they be waiting for you at home, do you +think?" + +"Waiting for me?" laughed the girl, and her laugh was not without a +little trace of bitterness; "who is there to wait for me? No one, +indeed, since my mother is dead. Perhaps to-morrow my uncle might say, +'Where is Valmai? She has never brought me my book.' Here it is, +though," she continued, "safe under the crumbs of the gingerbread. I +bought it in the Mwntroyd. 'Tis a funny name whatever." + +"Yes, a relic of the old Flemings, who settled in Caer Madoc long ago." + +"Oh! I would like to hear about that! Will you tell me about it some +time again?" + +"Indeed I will," said Cardo eagerly; "but when will that be? I have +been wondering all the evening how it is I have never seen you before." + +They had now reached the open beach, where the Berwen, after its +chequered career, subsided quietly through the sand and pebbles into +the sea. + +"Here is my path, but I will tell you," and with the sound of the +gurgling river, and the plash of the waves in his ears, Cardo listened +to her simple story. "You couldn't see me much before, because only +six weeks it is since I am here. Before that I was living far, far +away. Have you ever heard of Patagonia? Well then, my father was a +missionary there, and he took me and my mother with him when I was only +a baby. Since then I have always been living there, till this year I +came to Wales." + +"Patagonia!" said Cardo. "So far away? No wonder you dropped upon me +so suddenly! But how, then, did you grow up Welsh?" + +Valmai laughed merrily. + +"Grow up Welsh? Well, indeed, I don't know what have I grown up! +Welsh, or English, or Spanish, or Patagonian! I am mixed of them all, +I think. Where we were living there was a large settlement of Welsh +people, and my father preached to them. But there were, too, a great +many Spaniards, and many Spanish girls were my friends, and my nurse +was Spanish, so I learnt to speak Welsh and Spanish; but English, only +what I learnt from my father and from books. I don't know it quite +easy yet, but I am coming better every day I think. My father and +mother are dead, both of them--only a few days between them. Another +kind missionary's wife brought me home, and since then I am living with +my uncle. He is quite kind when he notices me, but he is always +reading--reading the old books about the Druids, and Owen Glendwr, and +those old times, and he is forgetting the present; only I must not go +near the church nor the church people, then he is quite kind." + +"How curious!" said Cardo. "You have almost described my father and my +home! I think we ought to be friends with so much in common." + +"Yes, perhaps," said the girl, looking pensively out to sea, where the +sea-horses were tossing up their white manes in the moonlight. "Well, +good-bye," she added, holding out her hand. + +"Good-bye," answered Cardo, taking the proffered hand in a firm, warm +grasp. "Will we meet again soon?" he said, dropping it reluctantly. + +"No, I think," said Valmai, as she began the steep path up the hill. + +Cardo stood a moment looking after her, and as she turned to look back, +he called out: + +"Yes, I hope." + +She waved her hand, and disappeared behind a broom bush. + +"Valmai! Valmai!" he said, as he tramped off in the opposite +direction. "Yes, she is _Valmai_!" [2] + + + +[1] "A pure Welshman." A favourite expression in Wales. + +[2] "Like May." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF. + +The Rev. Meurig Wynne, "y Vicare du," or "the black Vicar," as he was +called by the country people, in allusion to his black hair and eyes, +and also to his black apparel, sat in his musty study, as he had done +every evening for the last twenty-five years, poring ever his old +books, and occasionally jotting down extracts therefrom. He was a +broad-shouldered man, tall and straight, about sixty-five years of age. +His clean-shaven face was white as marble, its cold and lifeless +appearance accentuated by his jet-black hair, strongly-marked eyebrows +of the same dark hue, and his unusually black eyes; his nose was +slightly aquiline, and his mouth well shaped, though wide; but the +firm-set lips and broad nostrils, gave the whole face an expression of +coldness and hardness. In fact he had a peculiarly dour and dark look, +and it was no wonder that when he walked through his parish the little +children left their games in the road, and hurried inside their garden +gates as he passed. + +He was perfectly conscious of this, and it pained him, though no one +guessed it except his son, who felt a tender pity for the man who led +so isolated and solitary a life. + +The cause of his cold reserve Cardo had never been able to discover; +but he somehow connected it with his mother's name, and therefore +shrank from inquiring into his father's past life, preferring to let +old memories sleep, rather than hear anything which might bring sorrow +and pain into his life. + +The Vicar was evidently uneasy, as he looked up listening, with one +thin finger marking the place on the page he was reading. Cardo was +later than usual, and not until he had heard his son's familiar firm +step and whistle did he drop once more into the deep interest of his +book. + +As Cardo approached the house he saw the light in his father's window, +and pictured to himself the cold, pale face bending over the musty +books. "Poor old dad!" he murmured. Some sons would have tapped +playfully at the window, but Cardo did not, he turned round the corner +of the house, passing by the front door, which was closed, and did not +look inviting, to the other side, where the clatter of wooden shoes and +a stream of light from the open doorway made some show of cheerfulness. +And there was Betto, his old nurse and his father's housekeeper, in +loud, angry tones, reproving the shepherd boy who stood leaning against +the door-post. + +"Hello! what's the matter, Betto?" said Cardo in Welsh; "what mischief +has Robin been up to now?" + +"Machgen bach i (my dear boy!), is that you?" said Betto; "there's glad +I am! You are late to-night, and I was beginning to puzzle." + +"Has my father missed me?" + +"Well, indeed, he hasn't said anything," said Betto, hunting for the +frying-pan, and beginning to prepare the ham and eggs for supper. "But +where's that Robin?" she added; "a clout or two with the frying-pan +would not hurt his addle pate." + +"He has been wise, and made himself scarce; but what has he done, +Betto?" + +"What has he done? the villain! Well, you know the sheep are grazing +in the churchyard this week, and that 'mwnki' is watching them there. +Well--he seated himself yesterday on a tombstone when we were in +church, and whit, whit, whitted 'Men of Harlech' on his flute! and the +Vicare praying so beautiful all the time, too! praying against the +wiles of the devil and of Essec Powell!" + +"Essec Powell! What has he been doing?" + +"Well, machgen i, you will not believe! the boldness of those +'Methots' is something beyond! And the impidence of Essec Powell! +What do you think, Caradoc? he is _praying_ for your father--out loud, +mind you!--in the prayer-meeting every Wednesday evening! But there! +the master is beforehand with him, for he is praying for Essec Powell +on Tuesdays!" and she tossed the frizzling ham and eggs on the dish. +"Come to supper, my boy," and Cardo followed her nothing loth into the +gloomy parlour, lighted by one home-made mould candle, for he was +hungry in spite of the ginger-bread. + +"Ah, Caradoc! you have come," said the Vicar, as he entered the room +punctually at the stroke of ten, "what made you so late to-night?" + +"Well," said Cardo, "when Deio, 'Red Dragon,' led Captain out of the +stable, I found the swelling on his leg had risen again, so I left him +with Roberts, the farrier. He will bring him home on Friday." + +"You have ridden him too soon after his sprain, as I told you, but +young men always know better than their elders." + +"Well, you were right anyway this time, father." + +"Yes," said his father; "as the old proverb says, 'Yr hen a wyr yr +ifanc a debyg." [1] + +"Shouldn't wonder if it rained to-morrow, the wind has veered to the +south; it will be bad for the 'Sassiwn,' won't it?" said Cardo, after a +pause. + +"The what?" said the Vicar, looking full at his son. + +"The 'Sassiwn,' sir, as they call it; the Methodist Association, you +know, to be held here next week." + +"I don't want to hear anything about it; I take no interest in the +subject." + +"Won't you go then, father? There will be thousands of people there." + +"No, sir, I will not go; neither will you, I hope," answered the Vicar, +and pushing his plate away, he rose, and walked stiffly out at the door +and along the stone passage leading to his study. + +His son listened to his retreating footsteps. + +"As bigoted as ever, poor fellow!" he said; "but what a fool I was to +mention the subject." And he continued his supper in silence. When +Betto came in to clear away he had flung himself down on the hard +horse-hair sofa. The mould candle lighted up but a small space in the +large, cold room; there was no fire in the grate, no books or papers +lying about, to beguile the tedious hour before bedtime. Was it any +wonder that his thoughts should revert to the earlier hours of the +evening? that he should hear again in fancy the soft voice that said, +"I am Valmai Powell," and that he should picture to himself the +clustering curls that escaped from the red hood? + +The old house, with its long passages and large rooms, was full of +those nameless sounds which fill the air in the quiet of night. He +heard his father's footsteps as he paced up and down in his study, he +heard the tick-tack of the old clock on the stairs, the bureau creaked, +the candle spluttered, but there was no human voice to break the +silence, With a yawn he rose, stretching his long legs, and, throwing +back his broad shoulders, made his way along the dark passage which led +into the kitchen, where the farm servants were seated at supper. Betto +moved the beehive chair into a cosy corner beside the fire for the +young master, the men-servants all tugged their forelocks, and the +women rose to make a smiling bob-curtsey. + +"Have some cawl,[2] Ser!" said Betto, selecting a shining black bowl +and spoon. + +"Not to-night, after all that fried ham; but another night I want +nothing better for supper." + +"Well, there's nothing will beat cawl, that's certain," said Ebben, the +head servant, beginning with long-drawn noisy sups to empty his own +bowl. + +"Finished the turnips to-day?" asked Cardo. + +"Oh, yes," said Ebben, with a slight tone of reproof in his voice; "the +work goes on though you may not be at home, Ser. I consider there is +no piece of land on this earth, no, nor on any other earth, better +farmed than Brynderyn. Eh?" and he looked defiantly at Betto, between +whom and himself there was a continual war of words. + +"Well, I suppose so, indeed," said Betto; "_you_ say so often enough, +whatever, and what you say must be right." + +There was such an insidious mixture of flattery and sarcasm in her +words that, for a moment Ebben was at a loss what to answer, so Malen, +the milkmaid, took the opportunity of changing the subject. + +"There's tons of bread will be baked on Monday," she said, "ready for +the Sassiwn. Jini 'bakkare' has two sacks of flour to bake, and +there's seven other women in Abersethin will bake the same quantity." + +"At Morfa," said Shanw, "they have killed a cow and a sheep; and the +tongues, and fowls, and hams will fill every oven in the parish." + +Betto sniffed and tossed her head scornfully. "They may well give them +bread and meat," she said, "for I don't see what else they have to give +them." + +"What else, indeed," said Shanw, ready for the frequent fray. "They +won't have your hum-drum old church fregot[3], perhaps, but you come +and see, and hear Hughes Bangor, Price Merthyr, Jones Welshpool. +Nothing to give them, indeed! Why, Price Merthyr would send your old +red velvet cushion at church flying into smithireens in five minutes. +Haven't I heard him. He begins soft and low, like a cat purring on the +hearth, and then he gets louder and louder, till he ends like a roaring +lion. And our own preacher, Essec Powell, to begin and finish the +meeting. There's busy Valmai must be. Marged Hughes is there to help, +and she says--" + +"Oh, be quiet," said Betto, "and go along with your Valmai, and your +Price Merthyr, and your hams, and lions, and things. Ach y fi! I +don't want to hear about such things in a clergyman's house." + +"Valmai is a beauty, whatever," said Dye, the ploughboy. "I kiwked[4] +at her over the hedge this morning when she was going to Caer Madoc; +she's as pretty as an angel. Have you ever seen her, Ser?" + +"Valmai," said Cardo, prevaricating, "surely that is a new name in this +neighbourhood?" + +"Yes, she is Essec Powell's niece come home from over the sea. She is +an orphan, and they say the old man is keeping her reading and reading +to him all day till she is fair tired, poor thing." + +"Well, it is getting late," said Cardo, "good-night." And his rising +was the signal for them all to disperse, the men servants going to +their beds over the hay loft or stable; while the women, leaving their +wooden shoes at the bottom, followed each other with soft tread up the +creaking back stairs. + +In the study the Vicar poured over his books, as he translated from +English into Welsh the passages which interested him most. He was, +like many of the inhabitants of the South Wales coast, a descendant of +the Flemings, who had long ago settled there, and who have left such +strong and enduring marks of their presence. + +Their language has long given place to a sort of doggerel English, but +they have never learned to speak the language of the country except in +some of the straggling border villages. + +Pembrokeshire, in particular, retains a complete separateness, so to +speak, from the rest of the country, and is often called "Little +England beyond Wales." Thus it was that the English language seemed +always more natural to Meurig Wynne than the Welsh. His sermons were +always thought out in that language, and then translated into the +vernacular, and this, perhaps, accounted in some degree for their +stiffness and want of living interest. His descent from the Flemings +had the disadvantage of drawing a line of distinction between him and +his parishioners, and thus added to his unpopularity. In spite of +this, Cardo was an immense favourite, his frank and genial +manner--inherited from his mother, who was thoroughly Welsh--making its +way easily to the warm Welsh hearts. There was a deep well of +tenderness, almost of pity, within him for his cold stern father, a +longing to break through his reserve, a hankering after the loving ways +of home life, which he missed though he had never known them. The cold +Fleming had very little part in Cardo's nature, and, with his +enthusiastic Welsh sympathies, he was wont to regret and disclaim his +connection with these ancient ancestors. His father's pedigree, +however, made it very plain that the Gwynnes of Brynderyn were +descended from Gwayn, a Flemish wool merchant who had settled there in +the reign of Henry I.--these settlers being protected and encouraged by +the English king, who found their peaceable, industrious habits a great +contrast to the turbulence and restlessness of the Welsh under their +foreign yoke. Time has done but little to soften the difference +between the Welsh and Flemish characters; they have never really +amalgamated, and to this day the descendants of the Flemings remain a +separate people in language, disposition, and appearance. In +Pembrokeshire, Gower, and Radnorshire, we find them still flourishing, +and for some distance along the coast northwards from Pembrokeshire +there are still families, and even whole hamlets, descended from them, +exhibiting traits of character and peculiarities of manner easily +discernible to an observant eye. + +Before the Vicar retired to rest he took down from a shelf an old +Bible, from which he read a chapter, and, closing the book, knelt down +to pray. As he rose from his knees, the last words on his lips were, +"Caradoc, my beloved son!" + +For the next few days the turnips and mangolds seemed even more +interesting than usual to Cardo Wynne. He was up with the lark, and +striding from furrow to furrow in company with Dye and Ebben, returning +to a hurried breakfast, and out again on the breezy hillside before the +blue smoke had begun to curl up from the thatched chimneys which marked +the cluster of cottages called "Abersethin." + +Down there, under the cliffs, the little village slumbered, the rising +sun just beginning to touch its whitewashed walls with gold, while up +above, on the high lands, the "Vicare du's" fields were already bathed +in the morning sunlight. + +As he crossed from ridge to ridge and from furrow to furrow Cardo's +thoughts continually flew across the valley to the rugged hill on the +other side, and to the old grey house on the cliff--the home of Essec +Powell, the preacher. In vain he sought for any sign of the girl whose +acquaintance he had made so unexpectedly, and he was almost tempted to +believe that she was no other than a creature of his own imagination, +born of the witching moonlight hour, and absorbed again into the +passing shadows of night. But could he have seen through the walls of +that old grey house, even now at that early hour, he would have +understood what kept the preacher's niece so busily engaged that +neither on the shore nor on the banks of the Berwen was there a sign of +her. + +In the cool dairy at Dinas, and in and out of the rambling old kitchen, +she was busy with her preparations for the guests who would fill the +house during the Sassiwn. She bustled about, with Marged Hughes in +attendance, looking very different, but every bit as charming, in her +neat farm dress as she had on her visit to Caer Madoc. The sleeves of +her pink cotton jacket, pushed up above the elbows, showed her white, +dimpled arms; while her blue skirt or petticoat was short enough to +reveal the neatly-shod feet, with their bows of black ribbon on the +instep. + +Every house in the neighbourhood was busy with preparations of some +sort. At the farmhouses the women had been engaged for days with their +cooking. Huge joints of beef and ham, boiled or baked, stood ready in +the cool pantries; and in the smallest cottages, where there was more +than one bed, it had been prepared for some guest. "John, my cousin, +is coming from 'the Works,'" [5] or "Mary, my sister, will be home with +her baby." + +Everywhere hearts and hands were full of warm hospitality. Clergymen +of the Church of England, though generally looking askance at the +chapels and their swarming congregations, now, carried away by the +enthusiasm of the people, consented to attend the meetings, secretly +looking forward, with the Welsh love of oratory, to the eloquent +sermons generally to be heard on such occasions. + +Cardo, ruthlessly striding through the dew-bespangled gossamer of the +turnip field, heard with pleasure from Dye that the adjoining field, +which sloped down to the valley, had been fixed upon for the holding of +the Sassiwn. On the flat at the bottom the carpenters were already at +work at a large platform, upon which the preachers and most honoured +guests were to be seated; while the congregation would sit on the +hillside, which reached up to the Vicar's land. At least three +thousand, or even four, might be expected. + +All day Cardo looked over the valley with intense interest, and when +the day's work was over, unable to restrain his curiosity and +impatience any longer, he determined to take a closer survey of the old +house on the hill, which for so many years he had seen with his outward +eyes, though his inner perception had never taken account of it. At +last, crossing the beach, he took his way up the steep path that led to +Dinas. As he rounded a little clump of stunted pine trees he came in +sight of the house, grey, gaunt, and bare, not old enough to be +picturesque, but too old to look neat and comfortable, on that +wind-swept, storm-beaten cliff. Its grey walls, marked with patches of +damp and lichen, looked like a tear-stained face, out of which the two +upstairs windows stared like mournful eyes. Downstairs, in one room, +there was a little sign of comfort and adornment; crimson curtains hung +at the window, inside which a few flowers grew in pots. Keeping well +under the hedge of elders which surrounded the cwrt or front garden, +Cardo passed round to the side--the pine end, as it is called in +Wales--and here a little lattice window stood open. It faced the +south, and away from the sea a white rose tree had ventured to stretch +out its straggling branches. They had evidently lately been drawn by +some loving hand towards the little window. A muslin curtain fluttered +in the evening breeze, on which came the sound of a voice. Cardo knew +it at once. It was Valmai singing at her work, and he longed to break +through the elder bushes and call her attention. He was so near that +he could even hear the words of her song, softly as they were sung. +She was interrupted by a querulous voice. + +"Valmai," it said in Welsh, "have you written that?" + +"Oh! long ago, uncle. I am waiting for the next line." + +"Here it is then, child, and well worth waiting for;" and, with +outstretched arm marking the cadence of its rhythm, he read aloud from +a book of old poems. "There's poetry for you, girl! There's a +description of Nature! Where will you find such real poetry amongst +modern bards? No, no! the bards are dead, Valmai!" + +"Well, I don't know much about it, uncle; but isn't it a modern bard +who writes: + + "'Come and see the misty mountains + In their grey and purple sheen, + When they blush to see the sunrise + Like a maiden of thirteen!'" + +That seems very pretty, whatever." + +"Very pretty," growled the man's voice, "very pretty; of course it +is--very pretty! That's just it; but that's all, Valmai. Pwff! you +have put me out with your 'blushing maiden' and your 'purple sheen.' +Let us shut up Taliesin and come to 'Drych y Pryf Oesoedd.' Now, you +begin at the fifth chapter." + +There was a little sigh, which Cardo heard distinctly, and then the +sweet voice began and continued to read until the sun sank low in the +west. + +"It's getting too dark, uncle. Will I go and see if the cakes are +done?" + +"No, no!" said the old man, "Gwen will look after the cakes; you light +the candle, and come on with the book." + +How Cardo longed to spring in through the lattice window, to fling the +old books away, and to draw the reader out into the gold and purple +sunset--out over the breezy cliffs, and down to the golden sands; but +the strong bonds of circumstances held him back. + +The candle was lighted, and now he could see into the room. Old Essec +Powell sat beside the table with one leg thrown over the other, hands +clasped, and chin in the air, lost in the deep interest of the book +which his niece was reading. + +"He looks good for two hours longer," thought Cardo, as he saw the old +man's far-away look. + +There was a little tone of weariness in her voice as, seating herself +at the table by the open window, Valmai drew the candle nearer and +continued to read. + +Outside in the dusky twilight Cardo was gazing his fill at the face +which had haunted him ever since he had seen it on the road from Caer +Madoc. Yes, it was a beautiful face! even more lovely than he imagined +it to be in the dim evening light. He took note of the golden wavy +hair growing low on her broad, white forehead, her darker eyebrows that +reminded him of the two arches of a beautiful bridge, under which +gleamed two clear pools, reflecting the blue of the sky and the glint +of the sunshine, the straight, well-formed nose, the pensive, mobile +mouth, the complexion of a pale pink rose, and added to this the +indescribable charm of grace and manner which spread through her +personality. + +The evening shadows darkened, the sunset glow faded, and the moon rose +in a cloudless sky. The distant sound of the regular plash of the +waves on the beach reached Cardo's ears. He thought of the long +reaches of golden sand lying cool and grey in the moonlight, and all +the romantic dreams of youth awoke within him. + +Was it right that Valmai should be bending over a musty book in a +dimly-lit room? while outside were the velvet turf of the cliffs, the +plashing waves, and the silver moonlight. + +But the reading still went on, the gentle voice growing a little weary +and monotonous, and the white eyelids falling a little heavily over the +blue eyes. + +Long Cardo watched and gazed, and at last, turning away, he walked +moodily home. He knew his father would expect him to supper at ten +o'clock punctually, and hurried his steps as he approached the house. +Just in time, for Betto was placing on the table an appetising supper +of cawl and bread and butter, which the two men were soon discussing +silently, for the Vicar was more pre-occupied than usual, and Cardo, +too, was busy with his own thoughts. + +Suddenly the former spoke. + +"Is the long meadow finished?" he said. + +"Yes; Dye is a splendid fellow to work, and Ebben and he together get +through a good deal." + +"To-morrow they can clear out the barn. The next day is the market at +Llanilwyn; they must go there and buy a cow which Jones Pant y rych is +going to sell. I have told Ebben he is not to give more than 8 pounds +for her, and that is one pound more than she is worth." + +Cardo was silent. To clear out the barn next day was easy enough, but +to get Dye and Ebben to the market on the following day would be +impossible. It was the opening of the Sassiwn, and he knew that +neither of the men would be absent on that occasion, even though +disobedience should cost them their place. They were both Methodists, +and it had gone hard with the Vicar before he had taken them into his +service; but the exigencies of farm life had compelled him to do so, as +there was absolutely not one young man amongst his own congregation. + +To do him justice, he had forgotten for the moment that the market day +at Llanilwyn would also be the Sassiwn day. + +"Do you remember, father, the Sassiwn begins the day after to-morrow?" + +"I had forgotten it, but I don't see what difference that can make to +my buying a cow." + +"But Ebben and Dye will want to be at the meetings." + +A shadow crossed the old man's face. He made no answer, but continued +to eat his supper in silence, and at last rose, and with a short +"Good-night, Cardo," went into his study. He knew as well as his son +did that it would be useless to try and persuade his servants to be +absent from the meetings, and the knowledge galled him bitterly, too +bitterly for words, so he was silent; and Cardo, knowing his humour, +said nothing to Dye and Ebben of his father's wishes. + +"Poor old dad!" he sighed, as he finished his supper, "it is hard for +him to see his congregation dwindled away to a mere handful, while the +chapels around him arc crowded to overflowing. By Jove! there must be +something wrong somewhere." + +As usual after supper he followed Betto into the old kitchen, where the +servants were assembled for supper, and where Shanw was again holding +forth, to her own delight and Betto's disgust, on the coming glories of +the Sassiwn. + +"To-morrow evening will be the first meeting." + +"Will it be in the field?" asked Cardo. + +"Oh, no, Ser; the first is in the chapel always, and no strangers are +there. Essec Powell will have to shut up his old books for a few days +now, and poor Valmai will have rest. Marged Hughes says she is reading +to him for hours every day, but once she can get out of his sight he +forgets all about her, and goes on reading himself." + +"When does he prepare his sermons?" said Cardo. + +"Prepare his sermons!" said Shanw indignantly. "Do you think Essec +Powell would write his sermon out like a clergyman and read it out like +a book? No, indeed! Straight from the 'brist'--that's how Essec +Powell preaches!" + +"What time is the first meeting next day?" + +"Oh, early, Ser--eight o'clock. Are you coming? Anwl! there's glad +they'd be. You shall go on the platform with Price Merthyr and Jones +Abertawe and all the rest." + +"Saul among the prophets," said Cardo, laughing, and picturing himself +among the solemn-faced preachers. "No, no; that wouldn't do, Shanw. +What would my father say?" + +"Well, well!" said Shanw, clicking her tongue against her teeth; "'ts, +'ts! 'tis pity indeed. But, there, everybody knows it is not your +fault, Ser." + +Cardo frowned, and fell into a brown study. It wounded him to hear his +father blamed, and yet in his heart of hearts he wished he would so far +temper his zeal with Christian charity as to attend the meetings which +were moving the hearts of the people so much. + + +[1] "The old know, the young appear to know." + +[2] Leek broth. + +[3] Rodomontade. + +[4] Peeped. + +[5] Glamorganshire. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE SASSIWN. + +The Sassiwn day dawned bright and clear, and as the time for the first +service drew near, the roads and lanes were thronged with pedestrians +and vehicles of every description. + +The doors of the houses in all the surrounding villages were closed for +the day, except in a few cases where illness made it impossible for the +inmates to leave their beds. Everybody--man, woman, and child, +including babies innumerable--turned their faces towards the sloping +field which for the day was the centre of attraction. + +Already the grass was getting hidden by the black throng, and still the +crowds arrived, seating themselves row behind row on the wild thyme and +heather. The topmost corner of the field merged into a rocky +wilderness of stunted heath and patches of burnt grass, studded with +harebells, and this unapportioned piece of ground stretched away into +the adjoining corner of the Vicar's long meadow. In the afternoon +Cardo, who had virtuously kept away from the morning meetings, +sauntered down to chat with Dye, who had condescended to absent himself +from the third service, in order to attend to his duties on the farm. + +"You sit here, Mr. Cardo," he said, with a confidential wink, "on your +own hedge; the Vicar can't be angry, and you will hear something worth +listening to." + +Soon the sloping bank was crowded with its rows of human beings, all +listening with intense interest to a pale, dark man, who stood on the +front of the platform at the bottom of the field, and with sonorous +voice delivered a short opening prayer, followed by an impassioned +address. In the clear, pure air every word was distinctly heard all +over the field, the surging multitude keeping a breathless silence, +broken only by the singing of the birds or the call of the seagulls. +Sometimes a baby would send up a little wail of fatigue; but generally +the slumberous air soothed and quieted them into sleep. + +The prayer over, the preacher gave out the words of a well-known hymn, +and with one accord the people stood up, and from those hundreds and +thousands arose the swelling tones of one of those old hymns which lay +hold of every Welshman's heart, its strange reminiscences, its +mysterious influences swaying his whole being, and carrying him away on +the wings of its rising and falling melody. His fathers and +grandfathers sang it in their old thatched cabins--and, farther back, +the warriors and bards of his past ancestry breathed the same +tones--and, farther back still, the wind swept its first suggestions +through the old oaks of the early solitudes. + +"Is it this, I wonder, this far-reaching into the past, which gives +such moving power to the tones of an old Welsh hymn?" Thus Cardo +mused, as he sat on the hedge in the spring sunshine, his eyes roaming +over the dense throng now settling down to listen to the sermon, which +the preacher was beginning in low, slow sentences. Every ear was +strained to listen, every eye was fixed on the preacher, but Cardo +could not help wondering where Valmai was. He saw Essec Powell with +clasped fingers and upturned chin listening in rapt attention; he saw +in the rows nearest the platform many of the wives and daughters of its +occupants. Here surely would be the place for the minister's niece; +but no! Valmai was nowhere to be seen. In truth, she had been +completely forgotten by her uncle, who had wandered off with a knot of +preachers after the hospitable dinner, provided for them at his house +by Valmai's exertions and Marged Hughes' help; but he had never thought +of introducing to his guests the real genius of the feast. She had +snatched a hurried meal in the pantry, and, feeling rather lost and +bewildered amongst the crowd of strangers, had retired to rest under +the elder bushes, until called upon by Marged Hughes to help at the +table, which she did at once, overcoming her shyness, and keeping as +much as possible in the background. + +The guests had been at first too intent upon their dinners after their +morning's exertions to notice the slim white figure which slipped +backwards and forwards behind them, supplying every want with quick and +delicate intuition, aiding Marged Hughes' clumsy attempts at waiting, +so deftly, that Essec Powell's dinner was a complete success. + +Towards the end of the meal a young and susceptible preacher caught +sight of the girl, and without ceremony opened a conversation with her. +Turning to his host he asked: + +"And who is this fair damsel?" + +"Who? where?" said Essec Powell, looking surprised. "Oh! that's my +niece Valmai; she is living with me since Robert my brother is dead." + +"Well, indeed! You will be coming to the meetings, I suppose?" + +"Yes," said Valmai, "I have been there all day; the singing was lovely!" + +"And what did you think of the preaching?" said a very fat man, in a +startlingly bass voice. He was carving a fowl. "That is the important +point," he said, and the wing came off unexpectedly. "Young people are +apt to think most of the singing," here he re-captured the wing and +landed it safely on his own plate. "Did you hear my sermon?" he asked, +between the mouthfuls of the fast disappearing wing, fixing his eyes +upon poor Valmai, who began to wish herself under the elder bushes +again. "My text was--" but fortunately here the company rose. + +After a long grace they dispersed, and turned their faces once more +towards the sloping field. + +No one noticed Valmai--no one remembered her in the hurry to return to +the preaching field--no one, she thought, would know or care whether +she was present or not; and as she drew on her gloves and tied on her +broad-brimmed straw hat, there was a little sadness in the curves of +her mouth, a little moisture in the deep blue eyes, as alone she took +her way after the preachers to the hillside. As she went she recalled +the last open-air meeting she had attended, nearly two years ago, in +that far-off land, where her father and mother had walked with her in +loving companionship, when she had been the centre of their joys and +the light of their home, and as she followed the winding path, +hymn-book in hand, her heart went back in longing throbs to the father +and mother and the old home under the foreign sky, where love had +folded her in its warm embrace; but now--she was alone! no one noticed +whether she came or went, and as groups and families passed her, +wending their way to the hillside, she answered their nods and +greetings with pleasant kindliness, but still found herself alone! + +"It will always be like this now; I must learn to go alone. What can I +expect when my father and mother are dead? there is no one else to care +for me!" + +She reached the crowded field, and ought to have made her way into the +front rows near the platform where she might easily have found a seat, +but Valmai was shy and retiring, and seeing there was no settled place +for her, kept on the outskirts of the crowd, and at last found herself +on the piece of uncultivated ground which bordered the corner of the +Vicar's long meadow. She seated herself on the heather at the top of +the bank, the sea wind blowing round her, and tossing and tumbling the +golden curls which fell so luxuriantly under her hat. + +All feeling of loneliness passed away as she sat there among the +harebells and heather, for Valmai was young, and life was all before +her, with its sweet hopes and imaginings. She was soon listening with +deep interest to the eloquent and burning words which fell from the +lips of the preacher; and with the harebells nodding at her, the golden +coltsfoot staring up into the sky, the laughing babies sprawling about, +was it any wonder that sadness fled away, and joy and love sang a paean +of thankfulness in her heart? + +It was at this moment that Cardo caught sight of her. Unconsciously, +he had been seeking her in every square yard which his eye could reach, +and here she was close to him all the time. The discovery awoke a +throb of pleasure within him, and with a flush upon his dark face he +rose and made his way towards her. She was absently turning over the +leaves of her little Welsh hymn-book as he approached, and smiling +unconsciously at a toddling child who was making journeys of discovery +around the furze bushes. A quick, short "Oh!" escaped her as she saw +him approach, her face brightened up--yes, certainly she was glad. +Cardo saw it in the mantling blush and the pleased smile as he found a +seat on the grass beside her. She placed her hand in his with a +whispered word of greeting, for it would not do to speak aloud in that +quiet concourse of people. + +"Where have you been?" he asked, at last. + +"At home," she whispered. "Why?" + +"Because I hoped you would be out--" + +Valmai shook her head as a farmer's wife looked round at her +reprovingly. Cardo attempted another remark, but she only smiled with +her finger on her lips. + +"This is unendurable," he thought; but he was obliged to be satisfied +with the pleasure of sitting beside her until the long sermon was over, +and the crowd rose _en masse_ with ejaculations of delight at the +moving eloquence of the preacher. + +"As good as ever he was!" "Splendid!" "Did you hear that remark about +the wrong key?" "Oh! telling!" And amongst the murmer of approval and +enthusiasm Valmai and Cardo rose. For a moment the former looked +undecided, and he read her thoughts. + +"No--not home with the crowd, but down over the beach;" and she fell in +with the suggestion, turning her face to the sea breeze and taking the +path to the shore. + +Here the Berwen was running with its usual babbling and gurgling +through the stones into the sea, the north-west wind was tossing the +foam into the air, and the waves came bounding and racing up the yellow +sand like children at play; the little sea-crows cawed noisily as they +wheeled round the cliffs, and the sea-gulls called to their fellows as +they floated over the waves or stood about the wet, shining sands. + +"There's beautiful, it is," said Valmai, pushing back her hat and +taking long breaths of the sea wind; "only six weeks I have been here +and yet I seem to have known it for ever--I suppose because from a baby +I used to hear my father talking of this place. It was his old home, +and he was always longing to come back." + +"Yes," said Cardo, "I can imagine that. I don't think I could ever be +thoroughly happy away from here." + +"Nor I too, indeed," said Valmai, "now that I know it." + +"I hope you will never leave the place--you seem to belong to it +somehow; and I hope I may never leave it, at least--at all events--" +and he hesitated as he remembered his father's wishes--expressed many +times, though at long intervals--that he should go to Australia and +visit an uncle who had for many years lived there. The prospect of a +voyage to the Antipodes had never been very attractive to Cardo, and +latterly the idea had faded from his mind. In the glamour of that +golden afternoon in spring, in Valmai's sweet companionship, the +thought of parting and leaving his native country was doubly unpleasant +to him. She saw the sudden embarrassment, and the flush that spread +over his face. + +"You are going away?" she said, looking up at him. + +There was only inquiry in the tone. Cardo wondered if she would be +sorry, and was tempted to make the most of his possible departure. + +"I may have to go away," he said, "though I should hate it. I never +liked the idea, but now I perfectly dread it. And you," he added, +"should you miss me? It is not very lively here, so perhaps even I +might be missed a little." + +Valmai did not answer; she looked out to the horizon where the blue of +the sky joined the blue of the sea, and the white breakers glinted in +the sunshine. + +"Yes," she said presently, "I will be sorry when you go, and where are +you going to? Far away? To England, perhaps?" + +"To Australia," replied Cardo. + +"Australia! Oh! then you will never come back to Traeth Berwen!" + +"Indeed, indeed I will, Miss Powell--you laugh at that--well--may I say +Valmai, then?" + +"Yes; why not? Everyone is calling me Valmai, even Shoni our servant." + +"I may venture, then; and will you call me Cardo?" + +"Yes, indeed; Cardo Wynne. Cardo Wynne, everybody is calling you that, +too--even the little children in the village; I have heard them say, +'Here is Cardo Wynne coming!' See, here is the path to Dinas, I must +say good-bye." + +"Can't we have another walk along the beach? Remember, I, too, have no +one to talk to!" + +"Oh, anwl, no! I must hurry home and get the tea for the preachers." + +"And then back to the meeting on the hillside?" + +"No; the meeting is in the chapel to-night." + +"But when it is over you will come back along the shore?" + +"Indeed, I don't know. Good-bye," she said, as she began her way up +the rugged homeward path. + +When Cardo reached home, he found his father sitting at the tea-table. +The old parlour looked gloomy and dark, the bright afternoon sun, +shining through the creepers which obscured the window, threw a green +light over the table and the rigid, pale face of the Vicar. + +"You are late Cardo; where have you been?" + +"In the long meadow, sir, where I could hear some of the preaching +going on below, and afterwards on the beach; it is a glorious +afternoon. Oh! father, I wish you would come out and breathe the fresh +air; it cannot be good for you to be always in your study poring over +those musty old books." + +"My books are not musty, and I like to spend my time according to my +own ideas of what is fit and proper, and I should not think it either +to be craning my neck over a hedge to listen to a parcel of Methodist +preachers--" + +"Well, I only heard one, Price Merthyr I think they call him. He was--" + +"Cardo!" said his father severely, "when I want any information on the +subject I will ask for it; I want you to set Dye and Ebben on to the +draining of that field to-morrow--" + +"Parc y waun?" + +"Yes; Parc y waun." + +"Right, father," said Cardo good-naturedly. He was devotedly attached +to his father, and credited him with a depth of affection and +tenderness lying hidden behind his stern manner--a sentiment which must +have been revealed to him by intuition, for he had never seen any +outward sign of it. "It's no use," he muttered, as his father rose and +left the room; "it's no use trying to broach the subject to him, poor +fellow! I must be more careful, and keep my thoughts to myself." + +Later on in the evening, Valmai sat in the hot, crowded chapel, her +elbows pressed tightly in to her sides by the two fat women between +whom she sat, their broad-brimmed hats much impeding her view of the +preacher, who was pounding the red velvet cushion in the old pulpit, +between two dim mould candles which shed a faint light over his face. +Valmai listened with folded hands as he spoke of the narrow way so +difficult to tread, so wearisome to follow--of the few who walked in it +and the people, listening with upturned faces and bated breath, +answered to his appeal with sighs and groans and "amens." He then +passed on to a still more vivid description of the broad road, so +smooth, so easy, so charming to every sense, so thronged with people +all gaily dancing onwards to destruction, the sudden end of the road, +where it launched its thronging crowds over a precipice into the +foaming, seething sea of everlasting woe and misery. + +Valmai looked round her with awe and horror. + +"Did these innocent-looking, simple people belong to that thronging +crowd who were hurrying on to their own destruction? was she herself +one of them? Cardo?--her uncle?" + +The thought was dreadful, her breath came and went quickly, her eyes +were full of tears, and she felt as if she must rise suddenly and rush +into the open air, but as she looked round the chapel she caught sight +through one of the windows of the dark blue sky of night, bespangled +with stars, and a glow of purer and healthier feeling came over her. +She would not believe it--outside was the fresh night wind, outside was +the silver moonlight, and in the words of the poet of whom she had +never heard she said within herself, "No! God is in Heaven, it's all +right with the world!" Her joyous nature could not brook the saddening +influences of the Methodist creed, and as she passed out into the clear +night air amongst the crowd of listeners, and heard their mournful +sighs and their evident appreciation of the sermon, or rather sermons, +for there had been two, her heart bounded with a sense of relief; joy +and happiness were its natural elements, and she returned to them as an +innocent child rushes to its mother's arms. + +Leaving the thronged road, she took the rugged path down the hillside, +alone under the stars, and remembering Cardo's question, "Will you come +home by the shore?" she wondered whether he was anywhere near! As she +reached the bottom of the cliff and trod on the firm, hard sand below, +she saw him standing in the shadow of a rock, and gazing out at the sea +over which the moon made a pathway of silver. + +The fishing boats from Ynysoer were out like moths upon the water. +They glided from the darkness across that path of light and away again +into the unknown. On one a light was burning. + +"That is the _Butterfly_," thought Valmai, "I am beginning to know them +all; and there is Cardo Wynne!" and with a spirit of mischief gleaming +in her eyes and dimpling her face, she approached him quietly, her +light footstep making no sound on the sand. + +She was close behind him and he had not turned round, but still stood +with folded arms looking out over the moonlit scene. Having reached +this point, Valmai's fun suddenly deserted her. What should she do +next? should she touch him? No! Should she speak to him? Yes; but +what should she say? Cardo! No! and a faint blush overspread her +face. A mysterious newborn shyness came over her, and it was quite a +nervous, trembling voice that at last said: + +"Mr. Wynne?" + +Cardo turned round quickly. + +"Valmai! Miss Powell!" he said, "how silently you came upon me! I was +dreaming. Come and stand here. Is not that scene one to make a poet +of the most prosaic man?" + +"Yes, indeed," answered the girl, standing beside him with a strangely +beating heart, "it is beautiful! I saw the sky through the chapel +window, and I was thinking it would be very nice down here. There's +bright and clear the moon is!" + +They were walking now across the beach, at the edge of the surf. + +"It reminds me of something I read out to uncle last night. It was out +of one of his old Welsh poets--Taliesin, or Davydd ap Gwilym, or +somebody. It was about the moon, but indeed I don't know if I can put +it into English." + +"Try," said Cardo. + + "'She comes from out the fold + And leads her starry flock among the fields of night.'" + + +"Yes, that is beautiful," said Cardo. "Indeed, I am glad you find +something interesting in those dog-eared old books." + +"Dog-eared? But they are indeed," she said, laughing. "But how do you +know? They may be gold and leather, and spic and span from the +bookseller's, for all you know." + +"No, I have seen them, and have seen you reading them." + +"Seen me reading them? How? Where?" + +"Last night I was under the elder bushes, and saw you reading to your +uncle. I watched you for a long time." + +Valmai was silent. + +"You are not vexed with me for that?" + +She was still silent; a tumult of happy thoughts filled her mind. He +had found his way to Dinas! He had thought it worth while to stand +under the night sky and watch her! It was a pleasant idea, and, +thinking of it, she did not speak. + +"Tell me, Valmai, have I offended you?" + +"Offended me? Oh, no; why should you? But indeed it was very foolish +of you, whatever. If you had come in and listened to the reading it +would be better, perhaps," she said laughingly. + +"If I had come in, what would your uncle have said? He would have been +very angry." + +"Well, indeed, yes; I was forgetting that. He is very hospitable, and +glad to see anybody who comes in to supper; but I don't think," she +added, with a more serious air, "that he would be glad to see you. He +hates the Church and everything belonging to it." + +"Yes. How wearisome all this bigotry is. My father hates the chapels +and all belonging to them." + +"Perhaps you and I will begin to hate each other soon," said Valmai, as +they reached the boulders through which the Berwen trickled. + +It was absolutely necessary that Cardo should help her over the +slippery stones, and with her hand in his she stepped carefully over +the broad stream, subsiding into quietness as it reached the sea. At +last she was safely over, and as he reluctantly dropped her hand he +returned to the subject of conversation. + +"Will we hate each other?" + +Again there was no answer, and again Cardo looked down at Valmai as he +pressed his question. + +She had taken off her hat, and was walking with her golden head exposed +to the cool night breezes. It drooped a little as she answered his +persistent questioning. + +"No, I think," she said, with her quaint Welsh accent. + +"No, I think, too," said Cardo; "why should we? Let us leave the +hatred and malice and all uncharitableness to our elders; for you and +me, down here on the sands and by the banks of the Berwen, there need +be nothing but content and--and friendship." + +"Yes, indeed, it is nice to have friends. I left all mine behind me in +my old home, and I did not think I should ever have another; but here +we are across the shore, and here is the path to Dinas." + +"Oh, but the walk has been too short. You must come back and let us +have it over again." + +"What! back again?" said Valmai, laughing so merrily that she woke the +echoes from the cliffs. + +"Yes, back across those slippery stones and across the shore, and then +back again to this side. I can help you, you know." + +Cardo's voice was very low and tender. It seemed ridiculous, but +somehow he gained his point. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE STORM. + +A day or two later on, the weather changed, the wind blew up in angry +soughs from the south-west, and, meeting the strong flow of the spring +tide, curled the green wave-tops into those small feathers of foam, +always the fore-runners of rough weather. The sea-gulls let themselves +go before the wind calling to each other excitedly, the little +sea-crows stayed quietly at home in the safe crannies of the cliff. +Old Dan Griffiths the fisherman hauled his boat further up the strand, +and everything betokened the brewing of a storm, nevertheless Valmai +was out early. Her small household duties had been attended to. She +had skimmed the cream in the dairy, and fed the new calf; she had +scattered the grain before the flocks of fowls and pigeons in the +farm-yard; had brushed her uncle's coat, and, while helping him to +shuffle into it, had asked him: + +"Are you going from home to-day, uncle?" + +"Yes, merch i, didn't I tell you? I am going to a meeting at Pen +Morien, and won't be back to-night." + +"Are you going to walk?" + +"Why, no! ride, of course. Where's Malen?" + +"I think Shoni was just putting her into the cart." + +"Oh! I forgot to tell him," said the absent-minded man. "Tell him to +saddle her, and bring her here at once." + +Valmai ran out, and picking her way daintily through the stubble of the +farm-yard, caught sight of Shoni fastening the last buckle of Malen's +cart harness. + +"Wants her saddled?" he said, looking hot and flustered. "Dear, dear! +there never was such a man! Wasn't I settle with him yesterday to take +the two pigs to the fair to be sell? There's what it is to live in the +clouds!" and, grumbling, he unfastened the buckles, and soon led Malen +saddled and bridled to the door. + +"Didn't you tell me we was to sell the pigs to-day?" he said sulkily, +as soon as his master was seated safely on the saddle. + +Essec Powell, who had for some time been hopping about on one leg, +finding it difficult to mount the spirited Malen, now looked +thoughtfully at Shoni. + +"Pigs," he said, "pigs? Oh, of course; yes, Shoni, quite right, you +shall take them to market tomorrow." + +"To-day is the fair; you had forgotten that, I suppose." + +"Well, well! next week will do," and he trotted away, Shoni looking +after him with undisguised contempt. + +"There's a man, now," he said in English, for he was proud of his +proficiency in that language. "Wass you ever see such a man? I tell +you, Valmai, he would be ruined and put in gaol for debt long ago if I +wasn't keep him out of it." + +"Yes, I think--indeed, Shoni, I am sure of it; but where is the fair +to-day?" + +"At Llanython, of course; wasn't you hear of it? Why! you ought to be +there, pranked out in your ribbons and finery, talking and laughing +with the young men, and coming home in the evening with your +pocket-handkerchief full of gingerbread and nuts," and he looked her +over from top to toe. + +It had never struck him before that there was any charm in her +appearance, but now he seemed to realise that she was worthy to be seen +at the fair. + +"Yes," he said pensively, with his thumbs in the armholes of his +waistcoat; "I wouldn't wonder a bit now if you wass to pick up a +sweet'arr amongst the gentry, because you are beginning to speak +English as good as the Vicare, and you are not quite like the girls +about here, Valmai." + +"Am I not?" she said laughingly. + +"No," he said seriously; "and that's where you will be failing. +There's not a chap about here will take a miladi like you for a wife. +You must learn to kom over the farm-yard without picking up your +skirts, and looking at your shoes to see if they are dirty, if you want +to marry a farmer." + +"Indeed, I don't wish to marry a farmer," said Valmai, "nor anyone else +who doesn't want me." + +Shoni again shook his head solemnly. "Yes, yes," he said, "I see how +it is; s'not only the pigs, and the calves, and hens, but you too I +must take to markets and fairs, or we shall never marry you," and he +turned away pondering seriously over his self-imposed duties. + +Valmai looked after him a little wistfully. Where should she go now? +How should she spend the long day? Gwen would see to the housework, +and would brook no interference with her management. Nobody wanted +her, and nobody thought of her, except Shoni, and to him she seemed +rather a burden; or was there one who thought of her sometimes?--who +cared a little for her? With heightened colour and quick step she +turned from the farm-yard down the steep path which led to the river's +banks, and as she made her way through the thick hazel and willow +brushwood she could not quite suppress the hope that she might meet +Cardo. But no, perfect solitude reigned over the Berwen. + +Down in the valley she could not feel the wind, but she heard its roar +in the tree tops; the birds were silent, the sky was grey, and a little +sadness fell over her spirits as she continued to thread her way under +the tall bracken and brambles, onwards and upwards, until she at length +reached the stile by the bridge upon which she and Cardo had eaten +their gingerbread on the first evening of their acquaintance. The road +which had that night been so quiet and deserted was now full of busy +life, and as Valmai approached the stile and saw the many pedestrians +and vehicles she shrank back a little, and, through the branches of a +hazel bush, looked out on the passers-by, realising that all these +hurrying footsteps, and faces full of interest, were turned towards the +Fair at Llanython. + +Presently she heard the rumbling of wheels, and in a cloud of dust saw +the Vicar of the next parish drive by with his two pretty daughters. +Just as they reached the bridge they were overtaken by a young man, who +reined in his spirited, well-groomed horse and addressed the party. At +once Valmai recognised the voice, and peeping through the greenery, saw +it was Cardo, stalwart and strong, with his rough freize coat and +buttoned gaiters, looking every inch a gentleman-farmer. + +There was a bluff and hearty greeting from the clergyman as Cardo took +off his hat to the two young ladies, who simpered and blushed +becomingly, for Cardo Wynne was the catch of the neighbourhood; his +good looks, his father's reputed wealth, and the slight air of mystery +hanging over the silent "Vicare du" making quite a halo of romance +around his son's personality. + +"Good-bye," said Mr. Hughes; "we shall see you at the fair, I suppose?" + +"Yes," said Cardo, "good-bye," and he reined in his horse for a moment +so as to avoid riding in the cloud of dust raised by the Vicar's +carriage wheels. + +Valmai's heart thumped loudly, for Cardo was looking at the stile, he +was dismounting, and now he was leaning on the bridge lost in thought, +and looking down into the green depths of the valley. There was a +pleased look on his face and a gleam in his black eyes, which Valmai +saw, and which made her heart beat faster and her cheek flush a more +rosy red, but she shrank further back into the shade of the hazel bush, +and only peeped out again when she heard by the horse's hoofs that his +rider was remounting; then she ventured over the stile and looked at +the retreating figure, with his broad shoulders, his firm seat, and his +steady hand on his bridle as he galloped out of sight. A flood of +happiness filled her heart as she re-crossed the stile and began her +way again down the shady path. + +What mattered it that at every moment the wind rose higher, and the +branches creaked and groaned above her? What mattered it that the +birds were silent, and that the roar of the sea reached further than +usual into the nut wood? She would go home and eat her frugal dinner +of brown bread and bwdran,[1] and then she would set off to Ynysoer to +spend a few hours with Nance Owen, who had nursed her as a baby before +her parents had left Wales. In spite of the increasing storm she +reached the beach, and turned her face towards Ynysoer, a small island +or rather a promontory, which stretched out from the shore. At low +tide a reef of rocks, generally known as the Rock Bridge, connected it +with the mainland, but at high tide the reef was completely under +water, the sea rushing in foaming breakers over it as if chafing at the +restraint to its wild freedom. + +Had Valmai been better acquainted with the coast, she would not have +dared to cross the bridge in the face of the storm which was every +moment increasing in violence. The tide was down, and the rocks were +bare, and the high wind helped to hurry her over the pools and craggy +points. Gathering her red cloak tightly around her she made her way +safely over to the island, which was a frequent resort of hers, as here +she found the warm love and welcome for which her heart craved, and +which was so sorely missing in her uncle's house. + +Amongst the sandy dunes and tussocks were scattered a few lonely +cottages, in one of which Nance lived her uneventful life; its +smoke-browned thatch looked little different from the rushes and coarse +grass which surrounded it, for tufts of grass and moss grew on the roof +also, and Nance's goat was frequently to be seen browsing on the +house-top. At the open door stood Nance herself, looking out at the +storm. Suddenly she caught sight of Valmai, who was making a difficult +progress through the soft uneven sand, and a look of surprise and +pleasure came over her face. + +"Oh, dear heart, is it you, indeed, come to see old Nance, and on such +a day? Come in, sweetheart, out of the storm." + +"The storm indeed," said Valmai, in Welsh as pure as Nance's own, as +the old woman drew her in to the cottage and closed the door. "Why, +you know nothing about it on this side of the island, nothing of what +it is in the village. The boats have all been drawn up close to the +road, and the waves are dancing and prancing on the beach, I can tell +you." + +Nance loosened her cloak and hat, and smoothed her hair with her horny +hands. + +"There's glad I am to see you, merch fach-i, and if you have no grand +friends to keep you company and no one to look after you, you have +always got old Nance to love you." + +"Yes, I know that, Nance, indeed. What do you think of my new frock?" +said the girl, holding out her skirt to the admiring gaze of the old +woman, who went into raptures of admiration. + +"Oh, there's pretty. 'Tis fine and soft, but white, always white you +are wearing--" + +"Yes, I like white," said Valmai. + +"And didn't I dress you in your first little clothes? Well I remember +it." + +"There's just what I wanted to ask you about, Nance; I love to hear the +old story." + +"After tea, then, merch i, for now I must go and fetch water from the +well, and I must milk the goat." + +"I will fetch the water," said Valmai; "you can go and milk." + +And taking the red stone pitcher from the bench by the wall she went +out, and, sheltered by the ridge of rocks behind which the cottage +stood, made her way to the spring which dripped from a crack in the +cliffs. While she waited for the pitcher to fill, she sang, in sheer +lightness of heart, the old ballad which not only floated on the air of +Abersethin and its neighbourhood, but which she had heard her mother +sing in the far-off land of her childhood. + + "By Berwen's banks my love has strayed + For many a day through sun and shade," + +and she paused to peep into the pitcher, but finding it only half full, +continued: + + "And as she carolled loud and clear + The little birds flew down to hear." + + "By Berwen's banks the storm rose high," + +but the pitcher was full, so, resting it on her side, she carried it +home, before Nance had caught her goat. When she returned with her +bowl of rich milk, Valmai was busy, with skirt and sleeves tucked up, +tidying and arranging the little room; the hearth had been swept and +the tea-things laid on the quaint little round table, whose black +shining surface and curved legs would have delighted the heart of a +collector of antique furniture. + +"Oh, calon fach![2] to think your little white hands have been working +for me! Now I will cut the bread and butter thin, thin--as befits a +lady like you; and sorry I am that it is barley bread. I don't forget +the beautiful white cakes and the white sugar you gave me at Dinas the +other day! And your uncle, how is he?" + +"Quite well; gone to Pen Morien, and not coming home till to-morrow; +but tell me now, Nance fach, of all that happened so long ago--when I +was born." + +"Not so long ago for me, dear heart, as for you. It is a whole +life-time for you, but for me--" and the faded blue eyes filled with +tears, and the wrinkled lips trembled a little as she recalled the +past--"for me! I had lived my life before you were born. My husband +was dead, my boy drowned, and my little Mari, the last and brightest, +had suddenly withered and died before my eyes--a fever they say, +perhaps it was indeed; but the sun has never shone so brightly, +whatever, since then; the flowers are not so sweet--they remind me of +my child's grave; the sea does not look the same--it reminds me of my +boy!" and she rocked herself backwards and forwards for some time, +while Valmai stroked with tender white fingers the hard, wrinkled hand +which rested on her lap. "Well, indeed," said the old woman at last, +"there's enough of my sorrows; let us get on to the happy time when +your little life began, you and your twin sister. When you were washed +and dressed and laid sleeping together in the same cradle, no one could +tell which was which; but dir anwl! who cared for that? too much joy +was in our hearts that your dear mother was safe. No one at least, +except the grand English lady who was lodging there at your +grandfather's house. Her husband was dead, and she was very rich, but +she had no children; and when she heard your mother had twins, she +begged of us to let her have one for her very own, and she was like +thorns to us because we could not tell for sure which was the oldest." + +"Well, go on, Nance," said Valmai, as the old woman stopped to rake the +peat embers together. + +"Well! then, we all thought it was a very good thing, and no doubt the +Almighty had His plans about it, for how could your poor mother take +two babies with her to that far-off land where your father went a +missionary? Well! there was a message come to fetch the lady to the +death-bed of her mother, and she only waited at Dinas long enough to +see you both christened together, Valmai and Gwladys. The next day she +went away, and took your little sister with her. Oh! there's crying +your mother was at losing one of her little ones; but your father +persuaded her it was for the best." + +"And what was the English lady's name?" asked Valmai. + +"Oh! my dear, ask it not; the hardest word you ever heard, and the +longest; I could never twist my tongue round it. It is with me +somewhere written out on paper, and her directions, and if she ever +moved to another place she would write and tell us, she said; but that +was not likely to be, because she went to her father's and +grandfather's old home, and she has never written to anyone since, as +far as I know." + +"Well, indeed," said Valmai, looking thoughtfully into the glowing +embers, "I should like to see my sister, whatever." + +"Twt, twt," said the old woman, "there's no need for you to trouble +your head about her; she has never troubled to seek you." + +"Does she know about me, do you think?" + +"That I can't tell, of course," said Nance, going to the door to have +another look at the storm. "Ach y fi! it's like a boiling pot," she +said; "you can never go home to-night, my child." + +"Oh, yes, indeed I must; I would not be away from home in my uncle's +absence for the world," said Valmai, joining the old woman at the door, +and looking out rather anxiously at the angry sea. "Oh, when the tide +goes down at nine o'clock the moon will be up, and perhaps the storm +will be over." + +They sat chatting over the fire until the evening shadows fell, and the +moon shone fitfully between the scudding clouds. + +Meanwhile Cardo had ridden in to Llanython. A fair had generally much +attraction for him--the merry laughter, the sociable meetings, the +sound of music on the air, and the altogether festive character of the +day; but on this occasion its pleasures seemed to pall, and quickly +dispatching the business which had brought him there, he returned to +the inn, and, mounting his horse, rode home early in the afternoon. +Why he thus hurried away he never could explain. Ever since he had +leant on the bridge over the Berwen in the morning he had been haunted +by a feeling of Valmai's presence. Little had he guessed that she had +been so near him while he looked down through the interlacing scenery +which hid the river from his sight. It was nearly four o'clock in the +afternoon as he reached that part of the high road from which the beach +was visible, and here he stopped a moment to look and wonder at the +storm, which had so suddenly increased in violence. + +"How far up the beach at Ynysoer those breakers run! And the Rock +Bridge!--I wouldn't like to cross that to-night; but surely that was a +woman's figure crossing it now!" A sudden fear darted through his +mind, and dismounting, he climbed to the top of the turfy bank at the +side of the road to gain a better view of the coast. "Yes, a woman--a +girl, surely, and a graceful girl, wearing a scarlet cloak. She +carried her hat in her hand--not on her head, at all events. Surely it +was not Valmai in such a storm going over by such a dangerous path? +Probably a fisherman's wife or daughter!" But he gazed long and +steadily before he once more resumed his ride. In hot haste he rode +the rest of the way to Brynderyn. + +"The storm is rising," said the "Vicare du," as he joined his son at +the tea-table. + +"Yes," said the latter, pausing in his attack upon the roast fowl to +gaze at the clouds which scudded before the wind, "I expect it will be +a furious gale before midnight." + +As soon as the meal was over he rose, and fixing his hat firmly on his +head, said: + +"I am going down to the beach to see the waves, father. If I am not +back to supper you won't be frightened?" + +The old man muttered something about "folly to go out in such weather," +as Cardo disappeared into the stone passage. Making his way down to +the beach, he found the storm raging fiercely, and, gaining the shelter +of a rock, he sat down to rest and think. + +The sullen south-west wind moaned and shrieked as it rushed up the long +beach; it lurked in the hollows of the crags, and drove the sand and +foam before it. The Berwen looked yellow and muddy as it washed over +its stony bed. Above all came the roar of the breakers as they dashed +against the rocky sides of the island, which lay, a black mass, in the +seething water a few hundred yards from the shore. + +He looked across the blinding spray of the waves and thought of his +boat; but no, no boat would live in such a sea; besides, what +ridiculous fear was this that haunted him? + +At so great a distance as that between the road and the island it was +impossible that he could have distinguished Valmai from any other girl, +and what more natural than that one of the women living on the island +should be crossing the Rock Bridge. + +"I must be a fool to have nervous fears like a silly girl. I daresay I +shall meet Valmai on the shore." + +But he sought in vain for any sign of her, as she had sought him in the +morning. Indeed it was not likely that any tender girl would be out in +such a storm--and yet--"was it Valmai?" + +The thought _would_ come, the fear would haunt him. He was surprised +to find himself overtaken by a woman. + +"Dir, dir, what a storm," she remarked as she passed, hurried on her +way by the driving wind. + +One or two of Cardo's long steps brought him up with her. + +"Don't you come from Ynysoer?" he said. "I think I know your face." + +"Yes, gwae fi![3] that I had got safe back again, but my mother is +ill," she shouted, as the wind carried her words away, "and I must stay +with her till tomorrow, no one could go back over the Rock Bridge +to-night; though, indeed, I met a young girl crossing--" + +"Had she a red cloak?" asked Cardo. + +"Yes. She was Essec Powell's niece, and if she tries to come back +to-night I wouldn't give much for her life." + +"Here we part--good-bye," said Cardo. + +"Nos da, Ser," said the woman, but her voice was drowned by the roar of +the wind. + +"It was Valmai! I knew it was! Why did I not take my boat at once? +Now it is too late; and yet," he thought, "she cannot come till the +tide is low. I may get there in time. Surely she would not attempt to +cross the bridge yet?" + +For the rest of the evening Cardo paced restlessly over the beach, +buffeted by the strong wind, wetted by the spray, but still watching +narrowly the bridge of rocks, which connected the island with the +mainland. He knew for a certainty that Valmai was there, and he +watched with intense interest the darkening island, over which the +storm gathered with increasing fury. His plan was to wait until the +tide went down, and then to cross the bridge himself, so as to help +Valmai, or to prevent her attempting to return. + +After several hours' waiting in the shelter of the cliff, he saw by his +watch, which he was able to decipher by occasional gleams of moonlight, +that it was near upon nine o'clock. The moon was hidden at intervals +by heavy storm-clouds, which were hurrying before the wind; but when +her light shone out fitfully, it disclosed a scene of wild confusion; +the horizon was as black as ink, the seething sea beneath was white as +snow, and the sound of the wind and waves was deafening. + +Over the Rock Bridge the sea rushed like a mill race one moment leaving +it bare and black, the next covering it again with strong rushing +billows of foam. + +"She will not dare to return to-night," he thought, as he watched a +tossing, foaming tower of spray, which rose in the centre of the +bridge, where two streams of the seething waters met, and rose high in +the air together. + +The moon had again hidden her face, and in the darkness Cardo was +seized with a trembling fear. With bent and bare head (for he had long +before lost his hat) he made a blind rush over the bridge. For the +first few yards he got on safely, as each end was sheltered by high +rocks, which stood as sentinels looking across at each other. + +"So far, so good," thought Cardo, standing still a moment for breath; +"and now to cross this mill race!" + +But he was too late. Already he saw that Valmai had begun her way +across. + +On the island side the bridge was more sheltered from the storm, and +the girl was not only in a measure protected from the wind, but was +also hidden from the moonlight, and it was not until she had left the +shadow of the rocks and entered upon the open and unprotected reef that +Cardo in a sudden absence of clouds saw in the moonlight the delicate +figure wrapped in its scarlet cloak. For a moment she hesitated as she +felt the full force of the wind, and in her hesitation decided upon the +wrong course: she would run, she would reach the opposite rocks, and be +safe before the next gust of wind came. + +"Good God!" said Cardo, "she is lost!" as he saw her approach with +flying hair and fluttering garments towards the centre of the bridge, +which was for a moment left bare, and in that moment Cardo realised how +completely this stranger girl, who had seemed to drop from the clouds +into his quiet, uneventful life, had taken possession of his heart. +All this flashed through his mind and opened his eyes to the true state +of his feelings. + +Instantly he was making his way towards her, with strong steps and +sturdy shoulders fighting with the wind, which seemed determined to +baffle his attempts to reach Valmai before the periodical recurring +inrush of opposite streams should once more meet, and rise in towering +strife together. Thoroughly frightened and trembling, Valmai looked in +horror at the two opposing streams of water approaching her on either +side, and in her terror losing her self-command, was on the point of +giving herself up to the angry waters, which she felt herself too weak +to withstand. At this critical moment a dark form dashed through the +blinding spray--a form which she instantly recognised, and which as +quickly restored courage to her sinking heart. She felt the strong +arms clasped round her, but too late! for the next moment the +approaching waves had met, and rising high in the air in their furious +contact, had fallen with terrific force, sweeping her and her rescuer +into the boiling surf. Valmai became unconscious at once, but Cardo's +strong frame knew no sense of swooning nor faintness. His whole being +seemed concentrated in a blind struggle to reach the land--to save +Valmai, though he was fighting under terrible disadvantage. + +She had relaxed her grasp, and he had now to hold her safe with one +arm, thus having only one with which to struggle against the +suffocating, swirling waters. In a very few minutes he realised that +the fight was dead against him; in spite of all his strength and his +powerful frame, he was lifted and tossed about like a straw. The only +thing in his favour was the fact that the tide had turned, and was even +now combining with the strong wind to carry him towards a sheltered +corner on the mainland. With choking breath and blinded eyes he felt +himself carried on the crest of a wave, which bore him landwards, but +only to be drawn back again by its receding swell. He felt he was +helpless, though, had he the use of his two arms, he knew he would be +able to breast the stormy waters, and gain the land in safety; but +clutched in the nervous grasp of his left arm he held what was dearer +to him than life itself, and felt that to die with Valmai was better +than to live without her! His strength was almost gone, and with +horror he felt that his grasp of the girl was more difficult to retain, +as a larger wave than usual came racing towards him with foaming, +curling crest. He gave himself up for lost--he thought of his old +father even now poring over his books--he thought of Valmai's young +life so suddenly quenched--and with one prayer for himself and her, he +felt himself carried onward, tossed, tumbled over and over, but still +keeping tight hold of his precious burden. + +He was suddenly struck by a stunning blow, which for a moment seemed to +take away his senses--but only for a moment--for what was this calm? +what was this quiet sense of rest? was he sinking out of life into some +dim, unconscious state of being? had he seen the last of the clouds? +the moon--the stormy waters? Had Valmai already slipped away from him? +No; he still felt her within his grasp, and in a few moments he was +able to realise the meaning of the change in his feelings. He had been +carried like a shred of seaweed by that strong wave far up the beach on +the mainland, and in its receding flow it had swirled him into a round +cavity in the rocks, where as a boy he had often played and bathed and +fished; he knew it well, and saw in a moment that he was saved! +Clasping Valmai firmly, he ran up the beach, another combing, foaming +wave coming dangerously near his hurrying footsteps; but in spite of +the buffeting wind, he gained the shelter of the cliffs, and at last +laid his burden tenderly down on the rocks. And now the fight for life +was replaced by the terrible dread that Valmai might already be beyond +recall. + +The clear, cold moon looked down between the scudding clouds upon her +straightened form, the wind roared above them, and the lashing fury of +the waves still filled the air; but Valmai lay white and still. Cardo +looked round in vain for help; no one was near, even the fishermen had +safely bolted their doors, and shut out the wild stormy night. A faint +hope awoke in his heart as he remembered that Valmai had swooned before +she was engulfed with him in the sea, and he set to work with renewed +vigour to rub her cold hands, and press the water out of her long, +drenched hair; he was soon rewarded by signs of life in the rigid +form--a little sigh came trembling from her lips, her hand moved, and +there was a tremor in her eyelids. Cardo placed his arm under her +shoulders and, lifting her into a sitting posture, rested her head upon +his breast, the movement, the change of position--something awoke her +from her long swoon; was it the sense of Cardo's presence? did his +earnest longing call her spirit back? for she had been close upon the +shadow land. She came back slowly, dimly conscious of escaping from +some deadly horror, and awakening to something pleasant, something +happy. She slowly opened her eyes, and observing Cardo's strong right +hand, which still held and chafed her own, while his left arm upheld +her drenched form, she moved a little, and murmured: + +"Are you hurt?" + +"No," said Cardo, trembling in every limb with the excitement which he +had controlled until now, and with the delight of seeing life and +movement return to her, "hurt? no! only thankful to find you safe; only +anxious to get you home." + +Valmai's voice was weak and low, and he had to bend his head over her +to catch the words: + +"You have been near death for my sake--those dreadful waves!" + +"Do not think of them! I was in no danger. But I have been nearer +death since I have sat here watching your slow recovery. Now, Valmai," +he said, realising that every moment of exposure in her cold, drenched +garments was danger to her, "be brave; give yourself up to me, and I +will carry you home." + +But this adjuration was needless, for as he placed her gently down +while he rose to his feet he felt that she was limp and powerless as a +baby; he lifted her in his arms, and felt her weight no more than if he +had carried a storm-beaten bird. His own drenched condition he did not +consider--did not feel, while he climbed with careful footsteps up the +rugged path to Dinas, lighted only by the moon, whose beams were +continually obscured by the flying clouds. Pushing his way between the +furze and broom bushes, he was careful to let no stray branch catch +Valmai's face or hair, and as he reached the farm-yard in the rear of +the house, he was delighted to feel a strong and swift motion in her +frame. + +"Put me down, please," she whispered, "on the bench by the door." + +Cardo did so, reluctantly loosing his grasp of the tender form. + +"Now knock." + +And he obeyed, rapping loudly on the back door. The sound seemed to +rouse the inmates at once, for, with considerable thumping and +fumbling, somebody shuffled down the stairs. + +"Go now, I am safe," said Valmai, in a whisper. + +And Cardo went, but not before he had stooped down and pressed an +impassioned kiss upon the little listless hands. Neither spoke. +Valmai felt too weak and full of awakening happiness to trust her +voice, while Cardo felt the occasion was above the necessity for any +words. He waited behind the elder bushes until Gwen's full-moon face +appeared in the doorway, and her ejaculations of reproachful +astonishment (in which the Welsh language is prolific) showed that she +had seen Valmai, and fully appreciated the urgency of the situation. + +"Mawredd anwl! what is the meaning of this? Where have you been? and I +thinking you were in your warm bed!" + +"I have been to see Nance, and coming back over the Rock Bridge the sea +washed me away." + +"Nance! Nance! all the time! What you want to go there so often? +It's no wonder if you are drowned crossing that nasty place in such a +storm, You are like a wet sea-gull. If you were a baby you wouldn't be +more trouble," etc., etc. + +Cardo still waited until he saw in the kitchen the blaze of +freshly-piled logs on the culm fire, Gwen's voice still reaching him in +snappish, reproving tones through the closed door. Then he turned +away, and though he was bodily cold and saturated with the sea water, +his heart was full of warmth and a newly-awakened sense of the joy and +fulness of life. + + + +[1] Oatmeal and water kept until fermentation has commenced, and then +boiled into a thin porridge. + +[2] Dear heart. + +[3] Woe is me. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +GWYNNE ELLIS ARRIVES. + +For a few days, Valmai, although she had received no serious harm from +her watery adventure, still felt a little languor and indisposition, +which kept her a prisoner in the house. As she lay on the old shabby +sofa, her time was fully occupied by reading to her uncle, books of +Welsh history or the effusions of the old bards, which interested him +so much. Ever and anon, while he searched for a reference or took +notes of some special passage, she would fall into a dreamy reverie, a +happy smile on her lips and a light in her eyes which her uncle saw +not. Yes, Cardo loved her! She knew now that he did, and the world +was changed. She would make haste to get well and find him again on +the shore, on the cliffs, or on the banks of the Berwen. Her uncle had +heard from Gwen of her drenched condition on the night of the storm, +but had already forgotten the circumstance, and only recalled it when +he missed her active help in some arrangement of his heavy books. + +"How did you get wet, merch i?" + +"Coming over the Rock Bridge I was, uncle. I had been to see Nance, +and the storm increased so much when I was there that when I returned +the waves washed right over the bridge." + +"Well, to be sure! Now on the next page you will find a splendid +description of such a storm; go on, my girl," and Valmai continued the +reading. + +Meanwhile, Cardo, after a good night's rest, was no whit the worse for +his battle with the storm; but he was full of fears lest Valmai's more +delicate frame should suffer. He rose with the dawn and made his way +over the dewy grass across the valley, and into the field where Essec +Powell's cows were just awaking and clumsily rising from their night's +sleep under the quiet stars. The storm had disappeared as suddenly as +it had arisen, and all nature was rejoicing in the birth of a new day. +Gwen was already approaching with pail and milking stool as he crossed +the field through which a path led to Abersethin. She dropped a bob +curtsey and proceeded to settle her pail under "Corwen" and to seat +herself on her low stool. + +"Your young mistress got very wet last night?" said Cardo, in an +inquiring tone. + +"Yes, Ser, did you see her?" + +"Yes--I was crossing the bridge at the same time. Is she any the worse +for her wetting?" + +"Not much the matter with her," said Gwen; "'tis lying down she is, a +good deal,--miladi is a bit lazy, I think," and with this scant +information he had perforce to be content. + +When he returned to Brynderyn to breakfast, he found his father looking +somewhat discomposed as he read and re-read a letter which he had just +received. He made no comment upon its contents, however, but looking +up said: + +"You must have found the storm very interesting, Cardo; what kept you +out so late?" + +He did not add that he had paced up and down for an hour in his bedroom +after retiring for the night, peering out into the darkness in great +anxiety for his son's safety. + +"Very interesting, father; nothing less than a ducking on the Rock +Bridge! The storm was raging furiously there, and a girl was crossing +in the midst of it; she was in some danger, and I was able to help her +to cross in safety." + +"One of our congregation?" asked the old man. + +"By Jove! no, father; there isn't one girl under seventy in our +congregation!" + +"A Methodist, then, I suppose--one of Essec Powell's lot?" + +"Yes," said Cardo, beginning to redden; "but surely you wouldn't let a +woman be drowned without making an effort to save her because she was a +Methodist?" + +"I did not say so, Cardo; but certainly I should prefer my son's +risking his life for a member of the church." + +Cardo made a gesture of impatience which his father saw and felt. It +irritated him, and, fixing his eyes steadily on his son's face, he said: + +"I don't know how it is, but of late that subject has frequently been +on your tongue. I have no cause to love the Methodists, and I hope +they are not now going to add to my reasons for disliking them by +coming between me and my son. I simply wish you not to mention them to +me, Cardo--that is not much to ask." + +"I will not, father," said Cardo, pushing his plate away; "I will never +mention them to you again--" + +"Good!" replied his father. "I have a letter here which I would like +to read to you, but not this morning, as I am very busy." + +"All right, father--in the afternoon," said Cardo; and when Betto +appeared to clear away the breakfast things he was lost in a profound +reverie, his long legs stretched out before him and his hands buried +deep in his pocket. + +Betto tried in vain to recall him to outward surroundings by clattering +her china and by sundry "h'ms" and coughs, but Cardo still remained +buried in thought and jingling his money in his pocket. At last she +_accidentally_ jerked his head with her elbow. + +"Hello, Betto! what is the matter?" + +"My dear boy," said Betto, "did I hurt you? Where were you so late +last night?" + +"Oh, out in the storm. Have you seen my wet clothes? I flung them out +through my bedroom window; you will find them in a heap on the garden +wall." + +"Wet clothes? Caton pawb! did you get in the sea then?" + +"Oh, yes! tumbled over and over like a pebble on the beach," he said, +rising; "but you know such duckings are nothing to me; I enjoy them!" + +Betto looked after him with uplifted hands and eyes. + +"Well, indeed! there never was such a boy! always in some mischief; but +that's how boys are!" + +Cardo went out whistling, up the long meadow to the barren corner, +where the furze bushes and wild thyme and harebells still held their +own against the plough and harrow; and here, sitting in deep thought, +and still whistling in a low tone, he held a long consultation with +himself. + +"No! I will never try again!" he said at last, as he rose and took his +way to another part of the farm. + +In the afternoon he entered his father's study, looking, in his manly +strength, and with his bright, keen eyes, out of keeping with this +dusty, faded room. His very clothes were redolent of the breezy +mountain-side. + +Meurig Wynne still pored over apparently the self-same books which he +was studying when we first saw him. + +"Sit down, Cardo," he said, as his son entered; "I have a good deal to +say to you. First, this letter," and he hunted about amongst his +papers. "It is from an old friend of mine, Rowland Ellis of Plas +Gwynant. You know I hear from him occasionally--quite often enough. +It is waste of stamps, waste of energy, and waste of time to write when +you have nothing special to say. But he has something to say to-day. +He has a son, a poor, weak fellow I have heard, as far as outward +appearance and bodily health go--a contrast to you, Cardo--but a clever +fellow, a senior wrangler, and an M.A. of his college. He has just +been ordained, and wants to recruit his health before he settles down +to a living which is in the gift of his uncle, and which will be vacant +in a short time; and as he offers very good remuneration, I don't see +why he shouldn't come here. He would be a companion to you. What do +you say to it?" + +"As far as I am concerned, let him come by all means, if you wish it, +father; it can make no difference to me." + +"Indeed it will, though! You will have to show him about the +neighbourhood, and lay yourself out to make his stay here as pleasant +as possible, for he will pay well." + +"Pay!" said Cardo, with a frown, his sense of hospitality chafing under +the idea. "Pay! that spoils it all. If you take my advice in the +matter, you will write to your friend, and tell him to send his son +here by all means, but decline to take any remuneration." + +"Cardo, you are a fool! Do you think I would take a stranger into my +house, to have him always at my table, upsetting all my domestic +arrangements, for nothing? You ought to know me better. Fortunately +for you, with your pride and extravagant ideas, I am here to look after +affairs, and hitherto, thank God, I have been quite capable of doing +so! I only consulted you on the matter because I wanted to know what +chance there was of your making yourself agreeable to the young man, as +I cannot be bothered with him." + +"Oh, well, that is settled," said Cardo. "I shall be glad of a +companion, and will do my best to make him happy. I hope he'll be a +jolly fellow." + +"Jolly fellow? I hope he will be a steady young man, and a fit +companion for you. You don't seem to think of the necessity of that!" + +"I leave that to you, sir," said Cardo, with a humorous smile. "I +should never dream of questioning your prudence in the matter." + +The old man nervously fingered his papers. + +"Well, that is settled. I will not keep you longer from your fishing +or your rowing--which is it to-day, Cardo?" and he raised his black +eyebrows, and spoke with a slight sneer. + +Cardo laughed good-naturedly. + +"Neither fishing nor boating to-day, sir. No! it's that field of +swedes this afternoon," and he turned away with his hands dug deep in +his pockets. + +"A bad habit, Cardo! An industrious man never walks about with his +hands in his pockets." + +"All right, father! here goes for the swedes; and you bet I won't have +my hands in my pockets there. I flatter myself I can do good work as +well as any man." + +His father looked after him with a curious wistfulness. + +"A fine fellow!" he said to himself, as Cardo's steps receded along the +passage. "Not much fault to be found with him! How can I spare him? +But he must go--he must go." + +Meanwhile Cardo, no longer with his hands in his pockets, stood in the +swede field directing Shoni and Dye, and not only directing, but often +taking his share in the weeding or hoeing. He was full of interest in +the farming operations, which, in truth, were thoroughly congenial to +his tastes. + +"Bless the turnips and mangolds," he would often say; "at least they +take you out under the blue sky, and into the fresh air." He pondered +upon the proposed addition to his father's household. Suddenly an +unpleasant thought seemed to strike him, for his face flushed, and he +gave a long, low whistle. "Phew! I never thought of that! Why! I +shall never have an hour with Valmai with this confounded wrangler at +my heels! Deuce anwl! how shall I manage it? one thing only I know, no +power on earth--not even an 'M.A.'--shall keep me from her." + +But neither that day nor the next was Valmai to be seen. It was two or +three days before she was able to throw off entirely the languor which +followed her immersion in the sea; but on the evening of the third day, +as the sun drew near its setting, she once more roamed down the path to +the beach, a new light in her eyes and a warmer glow on her cheek. + +The long shadows of evening stretched over the shore, and the sun sank +low in the western sky, all flooded with crimson, and purple, and pale +yellow, as she flung herself down under a towering rock, still a little +languid, but full of an inrushing tide of happiness. The green waves +came rolling in, their foaming crests catching the rosy pink of the +sunset; the sea-gulls sailed lazily home from their day's fishing. The +sheep on the hillside were folded, and the clap clap of the mill in the +valley came on the breeze. + +Valmai sat long gazing at the crimson pathway over the sea, both heart +and soul filled to over-flowing with the beauty of the sunset hour. +Not even Cardo's presence was missed by her, for she knew now that he +loved her; she knew that sooner or later she should meet him, should +see him coming, through the golden sunlight of the morning, or in the +crimson glory of the evening, with buoyant steps and greeting hands +towards her; and almost as the thought crossed her mind, a sound fell +on her ear which brought the red blood mantling to her cheek. Thud, +thud on the sands; it was surely his footsteps, and in another moment +Cardo was beside her. + +"At last, Valmai!" he said, stretching out both hands to clasp her own +as she rose to meet him, "at last! Where have you been the last three +years? do not say they have been days! are you well and none the worse +for your wetting?" and still holding her hands in his, he made her sit +again on the rock, while he stretched himself on the dry sand at her +feet. + +A little silence fell upon them both--a strange constraint which was +new to them, and which Valmai was the first to break. + +"I ought to be thanking you for saving my life, Cardo Wynne; but indeed +I have no words to speak my thanks. I know I owe my life to you. What +will I say?" + +"Nothing," he said, leaning on his elbows and looking up into her face, +"nothing; there is no need for thanks, for I could not help myself. It +was the simplest thing; seeing you in danger I helped you out of it, +for, Valmai," and here his voice sank low and trembled a little, "it is +like this with me, and you must know it; had you been washed away by +those cruel waves, there would have been no Cardo Wynne here to-night! +I could not live without you! And you--Valmai, how is it with you?" + +Her head drooped very low. Cardo, lying on the sands, looked up into +the blushing face; but still she made no answer. Starting to his feet, +he stretched out both hands to her, and said: + +"Come, fanwylyd;[1] let us walk together--I cannot rest. Valmai, tell +me, have I the same place in your heart that you have in mine? Place +in my heart! Good heavens! There is no room there for anything else. +You own it all, Valmai; you sway my very being! Have you no comfort to +give me? Speak to me, dearest." + +"Cardo," said Valmai, "can I give you what you have already stolen from +me? I was alone and friendless when I met you that night in the +moonlight, now I am happy though my heart has gone from me. What shall +I say more? my English is not very good." + +"But you can say, 'Cardo, I love you.' Say that again." + +"Yes, I can say that, whatever." + +"Say it, then, Valmai." + +"Oh, well, indeed! You know quite well that I love you. Cardo, I love +you." And to the sound of the plashing waves the old, old story was +told again. + +He had asked, while he held her face between both hands, gazing +earnestly into the blue eyes, "Does this golden sky look down to-night +upon any happier than we two?" and with her answer even he was +satisfied. + +An hour later the moon added her silver glory to the scene, and under +her beams they continued long walking up and down, lingering by the +surf, whispering though there was no one to hear. They parted at last +under the elder bushes at Dinas. + +Cardo was right. In all Wales there were not that night two happier +hearts than theirs. No fears for the future, no dread of partings, no +thought of life's fiery trials, which were even now casting their +shadows before them. + +Valmai lay long awake that night, thinking of her happiness and +blushing, even in the darkness, as she remembered Cardo's burning words +of love; and he went home whistling and even singing in sheer +exuberance of joy. Forgotten his father's coldness; forgotten his +bare, loveless home; forgotten even the wrangler who was coming to +trouble him; and forgotten that nameless shadow of parting and +distance, which had hovered too near ever since he had met Valmai. She +loved him, so a fig for all trouble! They had pledged their troth on +the edge of the waves, and they thought not of the mysterious, untried +sea of life which stretched before them. + +Early in the following week Cardo drove to Caer Madoc to meet the +mail-coach, which entered the town with many blasts of the horn, and +with much flourishing of whip, at five o'clock every evening. In the +yard of the Red Dragon he waited for the arrival of his father's guest. +At the appointed time the coach came rattling round the corner, and, as +it drew up on the noisy cobble stones, a pale, thin face emerged from +the coach window and looked inquiringly round. + +"Mr. Gwynne Ellis, I suppose?" said Cardo, approaching and helping to +tug open the door. + +"Yes," said a high but pleasant voice, "and I suppose you are Mr. +Wynne's son," and the two young men shook hands. + +They were a complete contrast to each other. Cardo, tall and +square--the new-comer, rather short and thin, but with a frank smile +and genial manner which gave a generally pleasant impression. He wore +gold spectacles, and carried a portfolio with all an artist's +paraphernalia strapped together. + +"Too precious to be trusted amongst the luggage, I suppose," said Cardo. + +"You are right! As long as I have my painting materials safe, I can +get along anywhere; but without them I am lost." And he busied himself +in finding and dragging down his luggage. + +In less than ten minutes the two young men had left Caer Madoc behind, +and were fast lessening the distance between them and Brynderyn. + +"Very kind of you to meet me; and what a splendid horse," said Gwynne +Ellis. "Carries his head well, and a good stepper." + +"Fond of horses?" asked Cardo. + +"Oh! very," said the high-toned voice; "riding and painting are the +chief delights of my life--" + +"We can give you plenty of riding--'Jim,' here, is always at your +service; and as for the painting--well, I know nothing about it myself, +but I think I can show you as pretty bits of scenery as you ever saw +within the four sides of a gilt frame." And as they drew near the top +of the moor, where they caught sight of the long stretch of coast, with +its bays and cliffs and purple shadows, the new-comer was lost in +admiration. + +Cardo, who had been accustomed all his life to the beauties of the +coast, was amused at his friend's somewhat extravagant exclamations. + +"Oh, charming!" he said taking off his glasses and readjusting them on +his well-shaped nose; "see those magnificent rocks--sepia and cobalt; +and that cleft in the hills running down to the shore--ultra marine; +and what a flood of crimson glory on the sea--carmine, rose +madder--and--er--er--" + +"By Jove! it will be a wonderful paint box that can imitate those +colours," said Cardo, with a nod at the sunset. + +"Ah, true!" said Gwynne Ellis, "one would need a spirit brush dipped in +ethereal fire, + + "'A broad and ample road whose dust is gold, + Open, ye heavens! your living doors--'" + + +"That is very pretty," said Cardo, "but I am not much acquainted with +English poetry--a farmer's life, you know, is too busy for that sort of +thing." + +"I suppose so; but a farmer's life _is_ poetry itself, in its idyllic +freshness and purity." + +Cardo shrugged his shoulders. + +"I don't know so much about that, but it is a life that suits me. I +was meant for a farmer, I am sure--couldn't soar much above turnips and +hay, you know. See here, now, there's a crop of hay to gladden a +farmer's heart! In a week or two we shall have it tossed about in the +sun, and carried down through the lanes into the haggard, and the lads +and lasses will have a jolly supper in the evening, and will give us +some singing that will wake the echoes from Moel Hiraethog yonder. +Then the lanes are at their best, with the long wisps of sweet hay +caught on the wild rose bushes." + +"Aha! my friend, I see I am right," said Ellis, "and a farmer is a +poet, whether he knows it or not." + +Cardo laughed heartily, as they alighted at the front door. + +"Tell my father that--do. Cardo Wynne a poet! that is something new, +indeed!" + +Here Mr. Wynne, followed by Betto, joined the group. The former, +though in his usual undemonstrative manner, made the new-comer welcome, +and Betto in her excitement was so lavish with her bob curtseys, that +Cardo came in for a few, until he recalled her to her senses by gravely +taking off his hat to her, at which she winked and nudged him with her +elbow, as she flew about in the exuberance of her hospitality. + +Seated at the tea-table, the three men soon became quite at their ease. + +"We are plain people," said Mr. Wynne; "I hope you will not find us too +primitive in our ways." + +"Nothing can be too simple for me, sir," said the visitor, in his +high-pitched voice, and speaking a little through his nose. "What can +be more idyllic than to drive through the glowing sunset, and find such +a meal as this waiting for me--broiled fish, cream, honey?" + +Meurig Wynne reflected with satisfaction that none of these luxuries +were expensive. + +"I hope you will get strong here," he said; "the air is pure and +bracing, and you can roam about where you please. If you prefer +riding, you can always have 'Captain' or 'Jim.' I want to sell 'Jim,' +but if I don't get 40 pounds for him, I shall keep him till September +fair." + +Gwynne Ellis put down his knife and fork, and sat gazing silently at +the fair scene which lay stretched before him. + +"What's the matter? said Cardo. + +"Oh! exquisite charming! That view alone is worth coming down for! +See those purple shadows! see that golden light on the gorse bushes!" + +"Well," said Mr. Wynne, rising, "I must return to my study, and leave +you young men to finish your meal together." + +Cardo, though amused at, and somewhat despising his friend's +sentimental enthusiasm, yet on the whole did not dislike him. + +"Oh! I believe the fellow is all right," he thought, when they had +parted for the night; "in fact, I rather like him; and, by Jove! I had +forgotten all about his being a wrangler! There's no conceit about him +anyway; if there had been, I should have had to pitch him out of the +dogcart--upset him into the sea or something--but I think he is all +right." And he went satisfied to his bed, and slept the sleep of the +just, or, at all events--of the busy farmer! + + + +[1] Beloved. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +CORWEN AND VALMAI. + +Gwynne Ellis soon found himself quite at home at Brynderyn, and enjoyed +the freedom and variety of his life in its picturesque neighbourhood. + +To Cardo, who had hitherto been so much alone, his presence was a very +pleasant change, and though Ellis was a complete contrast to himself in +every way, he liked him, and felt the advantage of companionship; more +especially in the evenings, when, his father shut up in his study, and +the old parlour but dimly lighted, he had always found the time hang +rather heavily. He was wont to relieve the tedium of the evening hour +by strolling into the kitchen, sitting in the rush chair, always looked +upon as the young master's, and freely entering into the games or +gossip of the farm-servants. He was much amused at the enthusiasm and +romance of his new-found friend, who, coming from a populous and +uninteresting border country, was charmed by the unconventional ways of +the Welsh coast. He threw a glamour of poetry and romance over the +most commonplace incidents; and Cardo, to tease him, would often assume +a stolid and unimpressionable manner that he was far from feeling. + +On the whole, they pulled well together, and the acquaintance, begun +accidentally, bid fair to become a lifelong friendship. + +Immediately after breakfast every morning, Gwynne Ellis, armed with +brushes, palettes, and divers other encumbrances, would ramble away +over shore or cliff, bringing with him in the evening the most +beautiful scenes and views of the neighbourhood, which his deft brush +had transferred to the pages of his portfolio. He was a true artist, +and, moreover, possessed one admirable trait, generally lacking in +inferior artists, namely, humility! And as he held up for Cardo's +inspection an exquisite sketch of sea and sky and tawny beach, he +waited anxiously for his criticisms, having found out that though his +friend was no artist himself, his remarks were always regulated by good +taste and common sense. + +"_That_ Nance's cottage?" Cardo was saying to-night as he sat in the +rush chair by the fire in the farm kitchen--Ellis on a bench beside +him, the little round table supporting the portfolio before them, "that +cosy, picturesque-looking cottage Nance's! those opal tints over sea +and sky--that blue smoke curling from the chimney, and that crescent +moon rising behind the hill! Come, Ellis, you have given us a dose +this time!" + +"Dose of what?" said Ellis, putting on his gold-rimmed glasses. + +"Why! of romance--of poetry--of imagination of course!" + +"Give you my word, my dear fellow, that's how it appears to me. You +are blind, dead to the beauties which surround you. Now, what would +that scene appear like to you?" + +Cardo laughed. "Why, exactly what it appeared to you, Ellis, only I +like to tease you. I see all these beauties, old chap, though I lack +the power to pourtray them as you do." + +"I believe you, Cardo, though I doubt if you realise the blessing you +enjoy in living amongst such picturesque scenes. To me, coming from a +flat, uninteresting country, it seems a privilege to thank God for on +your knees." + +"Perhaps I feel it as much as you do, Ellis, though I couldn't put it +into words, all I know is, I had rather live here on five shillings a +week than I would on five pounds elsewhere." + +"You are a matter-of-fact fellow. Five shillings a week indeed! and +five pounds--worse! If you were not so much bigger and stronger than +me I'd knock you down, Cardo. Come, let us have a stroll in the +moonlight." + +And they went out, the one to rhapsodise and to quote poetry; the other +to shock his friend with his plain, unvarnished remarks, while his eyes +and thoughts crossed the valley, and followed the moonlight which +lightened up the old grey house looking down from the opposite hill. + +"Where was Valmai?" He had caught a glimpse of her in the afternoon as +he returned from Abersethin, the path to which led him through Essec +Powell's fields. Caught a glimpse of her only, for as ill luck would +have it, as he crossed one corner of the field she was reaching the +gate at the further corner. Other maidens wore white frocks and straw +hats, but his heart told him that this was no other than Valmai. He +could hear her singing as she went, a long wreath of ox-eyed daisies +trailing behind her, the gate open and she was gone; but surely here +were signs of her recent presence, for round the horns of Corwen, the +queen of the herd of cows, was wreathed the rest of the daisy chain. +She was a beautiful white heifer, with curly forehead and velvet ears. +As Cardo approached and patted her neck, she looked softly at him out +of her liquid brown eyes shaded with long black lashes. + +"She is a beauty!" said Cardo, looking at her with the critical eye of +a farmer, "and worthy to be Valmai's pet. What a picture for Ellis to +paint! Valmai and Corwen. By Jove, I'll try to manage it." + +Gwynne Ellis was delighted when Cardo broached the subject as they +roamed over the cliff in the moonlight. + +"Can you paint animals and--er--er--human beings as well as you can +scenery, Ellis?" + +"Not quite, perhaps, but still pretty well. You liked that sketch of +'The priest and the girl at the confessional,' didn't you?" + +"Yes--very much. Well, now, what do you say to a pretty white cow and +her mistress?" + +"Oh! 'a pretty girl milking her cow'--a charming subject. Show it me, +Cardo--not Betto, now--you don't mean Betto? though, 'pon my word, I +have seen her look very picturesque on the milking stool." + +"No, no, no! Caton pawb! man, I'll show you a prettier picture than +that. She's a lovely creature! with brown velvet eyes, her forehead +all covered with little round curls." + +"What! a friz?" + +"Well, if you like to call it so. Lovely ears and a little soft nose, +the whole surmounted by a pair of short brown horns." + +"Good heavens! the woman?" + +"Why, no! the cow, of course!" + +"Oh, I see; the friz and the brown eyes belong to a cow then,--but what +of her mistress? My dear fellow, don't waste all your poetry on the +cow." + +"As I haven't much to spare, you think. Well, her mistress +is--Valmai!" and Cardo lifted his hat as he spoke. + +Gwynne Ellis took two or three long puffs at his pipe, and looked +curiously at Cardo, who stood looking over at the glimmering light in +one of the windows at Dinas. + +"Cardo Wynne, I am beginning to understand you; I have mistaken the +whole situation. Here have I been thinking myself the only man in the +place capable of appreciating its beauties properly--the only poetic +and artistic temperament amongst you all--and I gradually awake to find +myself but a humdrum, commonplace man of the world, who has dropped +into a nest of sweet things: earth, sea, and sky combining to form +pictures of beauty; picturesque rural life; an interesting and +mysterious host; an idyllic cow; a friend who, though unable, or +perhaps unwilling, to express his enthusiasm, yet thoroughly feels the +poetry of life; and, better than all, I find myself in close touch with +a real romantic love affair! Now, don't deny it, my dear fellow; I see +it all--I read it in your eyes--I know all about it. The pretty cow's +lovely mistress; and her name is--Valmai! How tender! My Welsh is +rather rusty, but I know that means 'sweet as May.' Oh, Cardo Wynne, +what a lucky dog you are!" + +Cardo was still silent, and his friend continued, pointing to Dinas: + +"And there she dwells (haven't I seen your eyes attracted there +continually? Of course, there's the glimmer of her lamp!) high on the +breezy cliff, with the pure sea wind blowing around her, the light and +joy of her father's home, and soon to fly across the valley and lighten +up another home." + +"Oh, stop, stop, for mercy's sake!" said Cardo. "Your Pegasus is +flying away with you to-night, Ellis. Your imagination is weaving a +picture which is far beside the truth. You have not guessed badly. I +do love Valmai, Corwen's mistress, and I wish to God the rest of the +picture were true." + +"Pooh! my dear fellow, 'the course of true love,' you know, etc., etc. +It will all come right in time, of course; these things always do. +I'll manage it all for you. I delight in a love affair, especially one +that's got a little entangled, you know." + +"Here it is, then," said Cardo. "Valmai has neither father nor mother, +and lives up there with an old uncle, who takes no more notice of her +than he does of his cows or his sheep, but who would be quite capable +of shutting her up and feeding her on bread and water if he knew that +she ever exchanged greetings with a Churchman, for he is a Methodist +preacher and her guardian to boot." + +A long-drawn whistle was Gwynne Ellis's only answer, but he rubbed his +hands gleefully. + +"Then," continued Cardo, "on this side of the valley there is my +father, shut up with his books, taking no interest in anything much +except his church and his farm, but with a bigoted, bitter hatred of +all dissenters, especially Methodists, and most especially of the +Methodist preacher. Why, Ellis, they convene public meetings on +purpose to pray for each other, and I believe if my father knew that I +loved Essec Powell's niece he would _break his heart_. Therefore, I +cannot tell him--it is impossible; but it is equally impossible for me, +as long as I have any being, to cease to love Valmai. Now, there! what +way do you see out of that maze?" + +"Many ways," said Ellis, rubbing his hands with delight. "My dear +fellow, you have pitched upon the right person. I'll help you out of +your difficulties, but you must let me see her." + +"All right!--to-morrow!" said Cardo, as they neared Brynderyn. + +When their voices reached the Vicar's ears, he paused in his reading, +and a look of pleasure softened his white face, but only for an +instant, for as the young men passed the window a dark and mournful +look chased away the momentary softness. + +"Soon!" he said, "soon I will tell him he ought to be prepared--I +_will_ tell him!" + +It was no easy matter next day to find Valmai, though Cardo and Gwynne +Ellis sought for her over shore and cliff and by the brawling Berwen. +They were returning disconsolate through the turnip fields at noon, +when Cardo caught sight of a red spot in the middle of a corn-field. + +"There she is, Ellis," he said, turning round; "have we time to go +back?" + +"What! that little scarlet poppy in the corn?" + +"Yes; it is Valmai's red hood; she wears it sometimes, and sometimes a +broad-brimmed white hat." + +Ellis looked at his watch. + +"Too late to go back now; it is close upon one o'clock." + +"Deucedly provoking!" said Cardo; "we will try again after dinner." + +But after dinner they seemed to be no more successful, although they +found their way into the very field where they had seen the red hood. + +"Let us follow the path," said Ellis stoutly; "it seems to lead +straight by the back of the house, and that old ivy-covered barn looks +tempting, and suggestive of a beautiful sketch." + +Cardo hesitated. + +"Come along, Cardo; not all the Methodist preachers in the world can +frighten me back when I am on the track of a pretty picture." + +In the old ivy-covered barn they found Valmai. The big door was open, +and in the dim, blue light of the shady interior, Shoni and she were +busily engaged with Corwen, who had been ailing since the previous +evening. Ellis was instantly struck by the picturesque beauty of the +group before him. Corwen, standing with drooping head, and rather +enjoying her extra petting; Shoni, with his brawny limbs and red hair, +patting her soft, white flanks, and trying, with cheerful chirrups, to +make her believe she was quite well again. Valmai stood at her head, +with one arm thrown round her favourite's neck, while she kissed the +curly, white forehead, and cooed words of endearment into the soft, +velvet ears. + +"Darling beauty! Corwen fach!" + +Here Gwynne Ellis, irresistibly attracted by the scene before him, +boldly entered the barn. + +The girl looked up surprised as he approached, hat in hand. + +"A thousand apologies," he said, "for this intrusion; but my friend and +I were roaming about in search of something to paint, and my good +fortune led me here; and again I can only beg a hundred pardons." + +"One is enough," said Shoni sulkily. "What you want?" + +The painting paraphernalia strapped on Gwynne Ellis's back had not made +a favourable impression upon Shoni. He took him for one of the +"walking tramps" who infested the neighbourhood, and made an easy +living out of the hospitable Welsh farmers. + +Valmai saw Shoni's mistake, and rebuked him in Welsh. + +"There is nothing to pardon," she said, turning to Mr. Ellis, "and if +there is anything here that you would like to paint, I am sure my uncle +would be quite willing. Will I go and ask him?" + +"Thank you very much; but if you go, the picture will be spoiled!" + +But Valmai, taking no notice of the implied compliment, began her way +to the big door. + +"This lovely white cow! do you think your uncle would allow me to paint +her?" + +"Oh! yes, I am sure, indeed!" said Valmai, turning round; "but not +to-day, she has been ill--to-morrow she will be out in the field, and +then I will make a daisy chain for her, and she will look lovely in a +picture." And she passed out into the sunshine. + +Gwynne Ellis heard a long-drawn "Oh!" of pleased surprise as she +discovered Cardo hovering about the door, and he considerately entered +into conversation with Shoni, endeavouring to express himself in his +mother-tongue, but with that hesitation and indistinctness common to +the dwellers in the counties bordering upon England, and to the +"would-be genteel" of too many other parts of Wales, who, perfectly +unconscious of the beauty of their own language, and ignorant of its +literature, affect English manners and customs, and often pretend that +English is more familiar to them than Welsh, a fatuous course of +conduct which brings upon them only the sarcasm of the lower classes, +and the contempt of the more educated. + +"What you is clabbering about, man?" said Shoni indignantly. "Keep to +the English if that is your language, 'coss me is spoke English as well +as Welsh." + +"Yes, I see you do," said Ellis, "and I am thankful to meet with a man +so learned. To know two languages means to look at everything from two +points of view--from two sides, I mean. A man who knows two languages +knows half as much again of everything as a man who can only speak one." + +Shoni scratched his head; he was mollified by the stranger's evident +appreciation of his learning, but thought it necessary to keep his wits +about him. + +"With these foreigns, you know, you never know wherr they arr--these +English, you know," he was wont to say, "nor wherr they arr leading you +to." + +"What wass you walk about the country for?" was his next remark. + +"Ah, that's it now! You are a sensible man; you come to the point at +once. Well, I am very fond of making pictures." + +"Sell them?" + +"Oh no, just for my own pleasure; every man has his--" + +"Crack!" said Shoni. + +"Yes, crack, if you like," said Ellis, laughing, and opening his +portfolio; "here are some of my cracks." + +And they drew near the doorway, leaving Corwen much dissatisfied at the +cessation of attentions. + +Cardo and Valmai had disappeared. Shoni was fast losing his head to +this fellow with the high nose and high voice, who evidently knew a +sensible man when he saw him. + +"There is Nance Owen's cottage," said the artist, "at the back of the +island; do you recognise it?" + +Shoni was lost in admiration, but did not think it wise to show it, so +he stood silent for some time, with his hands under his coat tails and +his red-bearded chin first turned to one side and then to the other, as +he looked with critical eyes at the pictures. + +"It's the very spit of the place," he said at last; "let's see another." + +And Ellis picked out his masterpiece. + +"That's Ogo Wylofen," he said. + +"Ach y fi!" said Shoni, with a shudder, "wherr you bin when you painted +that?" + +"At the mouth of the cave in a boat. It is magnificent, that rushing +water, those weird wailings, and the mysterious figures of spray which +pass up into the dark fissures." + +But this was far above Shoni's head. + +"Caton pawb, man!" he said, "not me would go in a boat to that hole for +the world. It is a split in the earth, and those are ghosts or witches +or something that walk in and out there; but anwl! anwl! you must be a +witch yourself, I think, to put those things on paper. Oh, see that +red sun, now, and the sea all red and yellow! Well, indeed!" + +"Well, now," said Ellis, "I want to have a picture of Corwen." + +"Yes, to-morrow, in the field, and me standing by her. I will put on +my new gaiters." + +"The young lady has gone to ask your master's consent." + +"The master!" said Shoni, locking the barn door; "pooh! 'sno need to +ask him. You kom to-morrow and make a picksher on Corwen and me. +Wherr you stop?" + +"At Brynderyn." + +"With the Vicare du? Oh, jar i!" said Shoni, taking off his hat to +scratch his head, "there's a pity now. Essec Powell will nevare be +willing for that; but nevare you mind, you kom. Here's Valmai." + +Cardo was nowhere to be seen. + +"I asked my uncle, sir," she said, "but I am sorry to say when he heard +you were the Vicar's friend he was not willing, but he did not say no." + +"Twt, twt," said Shoni, interrupting, "you wass no need to ask Essec +Powell. The gentleman is kom to-morrow to make a picksher on Corwen +and me." + +Valmai could not resist a smile at Shoni's English, which broke the ice +between her and Gwynne Ellis; and as Shoni disappeared round the corner +of the barn, she gave him her hand, frankly saying: + +"Good-bye, Mr. Ellis; I must go in to tea." + +"Good-bye," he said, "I will venture to bring my paints to-morrow to +Corwen's field. And you--you will keep your promise to come and make +the daisy chain?" + +"Well, indeed, I can't promise, but I will try, whatever." + +"And then you will honour me by looking over my portfolio." + +"And the Vicar objects to that girl," he exclaimed to himself, as he +proceeded down the path to the shore. "What a sweet, sensitive mouth! +Oh, Cardo, Cardo Wynne, I can only say, as I said before, you are a +lucky dog!" + +He had wondered what had become of Cardo, but with his full +appreciation of a secret love-affair, had had too much tact to ask +Valmai, and was not much surprised to find him lying at full length on +the sandy beach. + +"Well, Wynne," he said, pretending to sulk a little, "you _did_ leave +me in the lurch." + +"Leave you in the lurch! my dear fellow, do forgive me. To tell the +truth I forgot all about you until Valmai went indoors to find her +uncle. I waited to see if she would come out again, but she never did. +I believe she was waiting until I had gone; she's dreadfully chary of +her company." + +"Another charm," said Ellis; "one would get tired of an angel who was +always _en evidence_. She is an ideal girl. Tell me when you are +going to retire, old fellow, and then I will try my luck. That sweet +mouth, though the delight of a lover, is the despair of an artist." + +Cardo sighed. + +"Well, she came back after you were gone, then, and shook hands with +me, but said her uncle did not seem delighted to hear I was the Vicar's +friend." + +"Of course not." + +"But I made love to Shoni and gained his consent, and he is the real +master there, I fancy." + +"You did?" said Cardo, lost in admiration of his friend's shrewdness. + +"I did," said Ellis. "To-morrow I am to go to the field and paint +Corwen and Valmai has promised to come and make a daisy chain for the +occasion." + +"Has she indeed?" said Cardo, with great interest. "She would not +promise me. I believe she loves to see me miserable." + +"Well, cheer up," said Ellis, "for I shall be a precious long time at +those curls of Corwen's and those expressive brown eyes. Shoni, I +know, will stick to me like a leech, but you and Valmai, I expect, will +meanly desert me again." + +Next day Valmai was as good as her word, for, as the young men entered +the field at one corner, she appeared at the gate in the other, and as +she came towards them, Gwynne Ellis was struck anew by the beauty and +freshness of her appearance. She wore a simple white frock, her fair, +broad forehead was shaded by a white sun-bonnet, and she carried a +wreath of moon daisies, which she flung over Corwen's neck who was +grazing peacefully among the buttercups, ignorant of the honour +awaiting her. + +Valmai nodded playfully to Cardo and his friend as they drew near, and, +taking Corwen's soft, white ear, drew her towards them with many +endearing terms. + +"Come then, my queen, dere di, come along, then, and show your +beautiful brown eyes, and your pretty white curls. Here we are, Mr. +Ellis; will we do?" and, holding up her white frock, she made a demure +little curtsey to the two young men, while Shoni, also arriving on the +scene, looked at her with amused surprise, not unmixed with reproof. + +"Iss you must excuse Valmai, gentlemen," he said, tugging his red +forelock; "she iss partly a foreign, and not know our manners about +here." + +"Oh, we'll excuse her," said Gwynne Ellis, while Cardo clasped her hand +and gazed rapturously at the blushing face under the white bonnet. + +"I wass want her," said Shoni, with a jerk of his thumb towards Valmai, +"to put on her best frock, but no!" and he clicked his tongue against +the roof of his mouth, "there's odd things woman are! 'ts 'ts!" + +"Well, indeed," said Valmai, "I did not think a smart gown would suit +the fields, whatever!" + +"Couldn't be better, Miss Powell," said Ellis, arranging his group, and +introducing Shoni as a shadowy background. With a few deft touches of +his brush he had drawn the outlines of his picture, with good-natured +artfulness devoting much time to finishing off Corwen and dismissing +Valmai and Cardo. + +"Now you two can go," he said, "but I can't do without Shoni. A little +black spot at the back of that ear?" + +"No, no--brown," said Shoni, delighted to be of such importance, "and +the same brown smot on the nother ear, and that's the only smot upon +her!" + +He watched with intense interest the progress of the picture, calling +the artist's attention to all Corwen's good points as though he were +appraising her at a cattle sale, and an hour passed away quickly both +to the artist and Shoni; but to Cardo and Valmai, what a golden hour! +to stroll away together over the soft grass studded with buttercups, +down to the edge of the cliffs, where they sat among the gorze bushes +looking out at the rippling blue bay, silent from sheer happiness, but +taking in unconsciously the whole beauty of the scene, for it was +engraved upon their minds and often recalled in after years. + +"There!" said Gwynne Ellis at length, closing his portfolio with a +snap, "I can finish the rest at home--" + +"Iss, iss," said Shoni, "iss not so much otts about Valmai." + +"And to-morrow I will finish your gaiters, Shoni." + +"Very well, sir; pliss you remember, seven buttons on both of the two +legs." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE VICAR'S STORY. + +The spring had gone; summer had taken her place and was spreading all +her wealth of beauty over the scene. The sea lay shimmering in the +golden sunshine, the little fishing-boats flitted about the bay like +white-winged butterflies. On the yellow sands the waves splashed +lazily; up on the cliffs the sea crows cawed noisily, and the sea-gulls +sailed high in the air, and day after day Gwynne Ellis sought and found +some new scene of beauty to transfer to his portfolio. Every day he +trudged away in the morning and returned late in the evening, fast +gaining strength and health, and bidding fair soon to rival Cardo in +his burly breadth of chest. + +And where was Cardo through all this summer weather? The duties of his +farm were never very onerous, as, under Ebben's practical management +and his father's careful eye all the work was carried on regularly, and +he well knew that with every year, and with their inexpensive menage, +his father's riches were increasing, and that there was no real reason +why he should work at all; but he was one of those to whom idleness was +intolerable. True! he could lie on the sands with his hat over his +face for an hour sometimes, listening to the plashing waves and the +call of the sea-birds; he could sail in his boat on the bay for many a +sunny afternoon, the sails flapping idly in the breeze, while he with +folded hands leant against the mast, lost in thought, his eyes narrowly +scanning the cliffs and rocks around for some sign of Valmai, and +sometimes rewarded by a glimpse of her red hood or a wave of her +handkerchief; but for the lounging laziness which shirks work, and +shrinks from any active exertion, he had nothing but contempt. Dye +always averred "that the work never went so well as when the young +master helped at it." + +"Twt, twt, he is like the rest of the world these days," said Ebben, +"works when he likes, and is idle when he likes. When I was young--" +etc. etc. + +When the haymaking began he was everywhere in request, and entered with +much energy into the work of the harvest. Early and late he was out +with the mowers, and, at a push, with his strong shoulders and brawny +arms could use the scythe as well as any of the men. The Vicar paid +occasional visits to the hayfields, and Betto was busy from morning to +night filling the baskets with the lunch of porridge and milk, or the +afternoon tea for the haymakers, or preparing the more substantial +dinner and supper. + +"What's Dinas thinking of?" said Ebben, drying his heated face; "not +begun to mow yet?" + +"Begin to-morrow," answered Dye. "Essec Powell forgot it was hay +harvest, until Valmai pulled him out by the coat, and made him look +over the gate." + +"Hast seen the picture," said Ebben, "Mr. Ellis has made of her and +Corwen? Splendid!" + +"No," said Dye; "has he? What will the Vicare say? Jar-i! there'll be +black looks!" + +But Gwynne Ellis had been wiser than to show his sketch to the Vicar; +he was learning like Cardo that if there was to be peace at Brynderyn, +neither Essec Powell nor his flock nor his family must be mentioned. + +The last full wain of sweet scented hay had been carted into the +haggard, amidst the usual congratulatory comments of the haymakers, who +had afterwards trooped into the farm-yard, where, under the pale +evening sky, with the sunset glow behind them, and the moon rising full +before them, they seated themselves at the long supper table prepared +by Betto and Shan in the open yard. + +First the bowls were filled with the steaming cawl, and then the wooden +platters were heaped with the pink slices of home-cured bacon, and +mashed up cabbages. Last of all came the hunches of solid rice +pudding, washed down by "blues" [1] of home-brewed ale; and the talk +and the laughter waxed louder and merrier, as they proceeded with their +meal. + +Gwynne Ellis sat perched on the wall under the elder tree sketching the +group, and evidently affording them much amusement. The Vicar looked +at them through his study window, but Cardo, who had worked hard all +day in the field, was absent. + +Down in the shady path by the Berwen, he and Valmai walked and sang +together. Of course she could sing, with the clear, sweet voice and +the correct ear common to most Welshwomen, and Cardo sharing also in +the national gift, their voices frequently blended together in song, +and the sylvan valley often echoed to the tones of their voices, more +especially in the old ballad, which tradition said had been composed by +a luckless shepherd who had lived in this valley, + + "By Berwen's banks my love hath strayed," etc. + +The June roses bent down towards them, the trailing honeysuckle swept +her cheek, and as the sunset faded and the clear moon rose in the sky +their voices were low and tender. + +"I have seen so little of you lately, Valmai." + +"So little!" said the girl, in feigned astonishment. "Indeed you are a +greedy man. How oftentimes has Gwen called me and I have been absent, +and even my uncle asked me yesterday, 'Where dost spend thy time, +child; on the shore?' and I said, 'Yes, uncle, and by the Berwen.'" + +"How strange it is," said Cardo, "that no one seems to come here but +you and me, and how fortunate." + +"Well, indeed," returned the girl, "there was scarcely any path here +till I came, the ferns and nut trees had quite shut it up." + +"Yes," said Cardo, "I always thought it was a thicket, though I often +roamed the other side of the stream. And now the dear little dell is +haunted by a sweet fairy, who weaves her spells and draws me here. Oh, +Valmai, what a summer it is!" + +"Yes," she said, bending her head over a moon-daisy, from which she +drew the petals one by one. "Loves me not," she said, as she held the +last up for Cardo's inspection with a mischievous smile. + +"It's a false daisy, love," he said, drawing her nearer to him, "for if +my heart is not wholly and entirely yours, then such a thing as _love_ +never existed. Look once more into my eyes, cariad anwl,[2] and tell +me you too feel the same." + +"Oh, Cardo, what for will I say the same thing many times?" + +"Because I love to hear you." + +The girl leant her cheek confidingly on his breast, but when he +endeavoured to draw her closer and press a kiss upon the sweet mouth, +she slipped away from his arms, and, shaking her finger at him +playfully, said, "No, no, one kiss is enough in a week, +whatever--indeed, indeed, you shan't have more," and she eluded his +grasp by slipping into the hazel copse, and looking laughingly at him +through its branches. "Oh, the cross man," she said, "and the +dissatisfied. Smile, then, or I won't come out again." + +"Come, Valmai, darling, you tantalise me, and I begin to think you are +after all a fairy or a wood nymph, or something intangible of that +kind." + +"Intangible, what is that?" she said, returning to his side with a +little pucker on her brow. "Oh, if you begin to call me names, I must +come back; but you must be good," as Cardo grasped her hand, "do you +hear, and not ask for kisses and things." + +"Well, I won't ask for kisses and things," said Cardo, laughing, +"until--next time." + +And thus, while Essec Powell was lost in dreams of the old bards and +druids, and the Vicar counted his well-garnered hayricks, these two +walked and sang in the mazes of the greenwood, the soft evening sky +above them, the sweet sea-breezes around them, and talked the old +foolish delicious words of love and happiness. + +What wonder was it that, as alone under the stars, they returned to the +haunts of men, the links of the love that bound them to each other grew +stronger and stronger; and that to Valmai, as they parted on the shore, +all of earthly delight seemed bound up in Cardo; and to him, as he +watched the lithe, graceful figure climbing up the rugged path to the +cliffs, all the charm and beauty of life seemed to go with her. + +After supper, at which the Vicar had been more silent than usual, he +rose, and for a moment stood still, and, looking at his son, seemed +about to speak, but appearing to change his mind, after a curt +good-night, he walked away through the long stone passage with his +usual firm step. He was so regular and fixed in his habits that even +this little hesitation in his manner surprised Cardo, but he had not +much time for conjecture, as his father's voice was heard at the study +door. + +"Caradoc," he called, "I want to speak to you." + +Cardo cast an involuntary glance of astonishment at Gwynne Ellis as he +rose from the table and put his pipe back on its bracket. + +"I think I shall go to bed," said Ellis, leaning back with a yawn and a +stretch. "I have been on my legs all day, and a jolly day it has been!" + +The Vicar was standing at the study door holding it a little ajar; he +opened it wide for his son's entrance, and closed it carefully before +he seated himself in his usual place by the writing-table. + +"Shall I light your candles, father?" + +"Yes--one will do." + +And, while Cardo busied himself with the candle and matches, and drew +down the blinds, his father fumbled amongst his papers and coughed +awkwardly. + +"Sit down, Cardo. I have something to say to you which I have been +wanting to say for some time, and which I hope will give you pleasure." + +Cardo said nothing, his attention being rivetted upon his father's +countenance; the marble face seemed whiter than usual, the deep shadows +round the eyes darker and--was it fancy?--or were the lips whiter? + +"What is it, father?" said Cardo, at last pitying the old man's evident +nervousness; "no bad news, I hope?" + +"Bad news!" said the Vicar, with a forced smile, which disclosed a row +of large and rather yellow teeth. "Didn't I say I hoped it would +please you?" + +"Yes, I forgot, sir." + +"Well, it is this: you live a very quiet, monotonous life here, and +though it has many advantages, perhaps to a young man it would also +appear to have many drawbacks. You have lately had Mr. Gwynne Ellis's +company, which I am glad to see you have thoroughly appreciated. I +should have been annoyed, had it been otherwise, considering that it +was not without some change of my usual domestic ways that I was able +to arrange this little matter for you. I own I should not like you to +imbibe all his ideas, which I consider very loose and unconstitutional; +but on the whole, I have liked the young man, and shall be sorry when +he leaves, more particularly as he pays well." + +Cardo winced. "I am very happy working on the farm, and if I have +appeared discontented, my looks have belied me." + +"No, no," said his father, tapping with his finger on the open page +before him. "No! you seem to have a fund of animal spirits; but I am +quite aware that your life is uneventful and dull, and I think a young +man of your er--er--" (he was going to say "prospects," but thought +that would not be politic), "well, a young man of your position should +see a little of the world." + +"My position is that of a farmer, sir, and few farmers can afford to +travel about and see the world." + +"Certainly not, certainly not; and for heaven's sake don't run away +with the idea that I can afford it any better than other poor vicars or +farmers; but knowing that you have a 100 pounds a year of your own, +Cardo, which, by the by, you never spend much of, and which I am glad +to hear you are already beginning to save up, I thought it well to +suggest to you a little holiday, a little break in your occupation." + +"Once for all, sir, I have no wish to travel, so do not trouble your +head about me; I am perfectly contented and happy." + +There was a moment's silence, except for the Vicar's tapping fingers, +and when he next spoke there was a little shake in his voice and a +little droop in his straight back. + +"Well," he said at length, "if that is the case, I need not expect you +to accede to my proposals. When a young man is contented and happy, it +is not to be expected he will alter his mode of life to please an old +man." + +"And that man his father! Indeed it is," said Cardo, standing up and +taking his favourite attitude, with his elbow on the mantelpiece. "Why +do you keep me at arm's length? Why do you not tell me plainly what I +can do for you, father? There is nothing I would not do, nothing I +would not sacrifice, that is--" and he made a mental reservation +concerning Valmai. + +"That is--nothing except what I am about to ask you, I suppose?" said +the old man. + +The words were not amiable. They might have angered another man; but +Cardo detected a tremor in the voice and an anxious look in the eyes +which softened their asperity. + +"What do you want me to do, sir?" + +"In plain words, I want you to go to Australia." + +"Australia!" gasped Cardo. "In heaven's name, what for, sir?" + +"I have often told you that some day I would wish you to go to +Australia, Cardo. If you cannot afford your own expenses, I will help +you In fact--er--er--I will place funds at your disposal which shall +enable you to travel like a gentleman, and to reap every advantage +which is supposed to accrue from travel and seeing the world." + +Cardo way speechless from astonishment, not so much at the idea of +banishment to the Antipodes--for his father had sometimes, though at +long intervals, hinted at this idea--but at the unusual coolness with +which he had alluded to such a lavish expenditure of money; and as he +looked at his father with an earnest, inquiring gaze, the old man +seemed to shrink under the scrutiny. + +At last, turning away from the table, and placing both hands on his +knees, he continued in an altered tone: + +"Sit down again, Cardo, and I will tell you the story of my life, and +then you shall tell me whether you will go to Australia or not." + +His son sat down again and listened eagerly. He had always longed to +hear something of his father's early life; he had always rebelled +against the cold barrier of mystery which seemed to enshroud him and +separate him from his only son. + +"Well, to begin at the beginning," said the Vicar, fixing his eyes on +one spot on the carpet, "there was a time when I was young--perhaps you +can hardly realise that," he said suddenly, looking up; "but strange as +it may seem to you, it is a fact. I once was young, and though never +so gay and light-hearted as you still I was happy in my own way, and +fool enough to expect that life had for me a store of joys and +pleasures, just as you do now. I was doomed, of course, to bitter +disappointment, just as you will be. Well, I had one trouble, and that +was the fear that I might be appointed to a curacy which would take me +away from my old home, and I was greatly relieved when I was appointed +to this living through the influence of an old friend of my father's. +When I entered upon my new duties, I found the old church filled with a +hearty and friendly congregation; but soon afterwards that Methodist +Chapel was built on the moor, and that rascal Essec Powell became its +minister, and from that day to this he has been a thorn in the flesh to +me. My father died about a year after I was ordained, and I found the +old house rather lonely with only Betto, who was then young, to look +after my domestic affairs. My farm I found a great solace. About this +time I met your mother, Agnes Powell. Her uncle and aunt had lately +come to live in the neighbourhood, accompanied by their daughter Ellen +and their niece--your mother. The two girls were said to be wealthy, +and seemed to be as much attached to each other as though they had been +sisters. I don't remember much about Ellen Vaughan's appearance, in +fact I scarcely noticed her, for I had fallen passionately in love with +Agnes Powell. Are you listening, Caradoc?" + +"Yes, indeed, sir," he said breathlessly, "I have thirsted for this +knowledge so long." + +"You have! well, then, listen. I loved your mother with a frantic mad +devotion, though I killed her." + +Cardo started. + +"Yes, I killed her; not by a cruel blow, or murderous attack, but quite +as surely and as cruelly. I told you I had not your gay and lively +disposition. I might have added that I was sensitive and suspicious to +an intense degree, and from my first acquaintance with your mother +until the day I married her, I was always restless and uneasy, hating +and fearing every man who approached her." + +He reached a glass of water which stood on the table, and, having drunk +some, looked again at his son. + +"You see, Caradoc, if I have withheld this information from you long, I +am telling you everything now. Just about this time my brother Lewis, +who had for some years been settled in Scotland to learn farming, came +home to Brynderyn, although I, being the elder son, was the owner of +the place. Lewis had a small annuity settled upon him. As I was on +the eve of being married, he was much interested in my affairs, and +spoke of his admiration of Agnes in such glowing terms, that I felt, +and, I fear, showed some resentment. However, as he was well +acquainted with my suspicious nature, he was not offended, but laughed +me out of my doubts for the time--for the time," he repeated, again +fixing his eyes on the spot on the carpet. "Bear in mind, Cardo, +through every word of this history, that the suspicion and mistrust of +my nature amounted almost to insanity. I see it now, and, thank God, +have conquered it in some measure. Well, we were married. Lewis was +my groomsman, and Ellen Vaughan was the bridesmaid. It was a very +quiet wedding, as Mrs. Vaughan was in very bad health--in fact, she +died soon after our marriage, and Agnes seemed to feel the loss of her +aunt so acutely that I was jealous and angry, and she saw that I was +so, and endeavoured to hide her tears, poor child! poor child! I don't +think her uncle ever liked me, or approved of our marriage. Happily he +had no control over Agnes's fortune, or I believe she would never have +had a penny of it; but I think he might have trusted me there, for I +have nursed it--yes and doubled it," he mumbled, as though forgetting +he was speaking to anyone but the carpet. "Well, let me see--where was +I?" + +"But my mother, sir?" interrupted Cardo; "tell me something about +her--was she pretty?" + +"Yes, she was beautiful, very lovely, with a foreign Spanish look in +her eyes--you have the same, I think, Cardo. There was a tradition of +Spanish blood in the family." + +"And had she a Spanish temper, sir? quick and hasty, I mean." + +"No, no, quite the contrary; a sweet and amiable temper, but certainly +with a good deal of pride, which resented a suspicion like a blow," and +the old man sighed heavily. "My brother Lewis made his home at +Brynderyn, while he was looking about for some suitable opening for his +farming operations, and here in the midst of my newly-found happiness, +with hope and love shedding their beams around me, I allowed the first +insidious entrance of the serpent of distrust and jealousy of my wife +into my heart. My brother Lewis was very unlike me in appearance and +disposition, being of a frank and genial manner, and trustful to a +fault. I think you inherit that trait from him; be careful of it, +Caradoc, or you will be cheated by every man you meet. Not that I +would have you follow my example--God forbid! but there is a happy +mean, a safe path between these two traits of character." + +The Vicar was beginning to enjoy the recital of his long past troubles, +and the thought flashed through his mind that he would have lightened +his burden had he sooner confided in his son. The conduct which seemed +so black and stained, when brooded over alone in his study, did not +seem quite so heinous when put into plain words and spread out in the +light. + +"Well," he continued, "in spite of my jealous temper, the first few +months of our wedded life were very happy, and it was not until I had +begun to notice that a very intimate friendship existed between my +young wife and my brother, that my suspicions were aroused with regard +to them; but once alive to this idea, every moment of my life was +poisoned by it. I kept a close but secret watch upon their actions, +and soon saw what I considered a certain proof that the love they felt +for each other was more than, and different to, that which the +relationship of brother and sister-in-law warranted. Betto noticed it, +too, for she has ever been faithful and true to me. She came to me one +day, and seriously advised me to get rid of my brother Lewis, refusing +to give any reason for her advice; but I required no explanation. You +say nothing, Caradoc, but sit there with a blacker look on your face +than I have ever seen before." + +"I am listening, father, and waiting for some excuse for your jealous +suspicions." + +"I have very little to give but you shall have the story in its naked +truth. I was devotedly attached to my brother; from childhood we had +been all in all to each other, and the difference in our dispositions +seemed only to cement more closely the bond of union between us; but +now my love seemed turned to hatred, and I only waited to make my fears +a certainty to turn him out of my house. Although I was anxious to +hide my suspicions for a time, I could not refrain from sneering taunts +about men who spent a life of idleness while others worked. Lewis +opened his blue eyes in astonishment, and his frank, open countenance +wore a hurt and puzzled look; but he did not go. He bore my insults, +and yet haunted the house, and lingered round the west parlour, now +shut up, but where your mother always sat. I found it impossible to +hide entirely from Agnes my doubts of her love, and I soon saw that my +involuntarily altered manner had made a corresponding change in hers. +The proud spirit within her was roused, and instead of endeavouring to +soothe my suspicions, and show me my mistake, she went on her way +apparently unheeding, holding her head high, and letting me form my own +opinion of her actions. I ought to have told you that her uncle had +been so annoyed at her marriage with me that he had forbidden her to +enter his doors again; and of this I was not sorry, though it roused my +anger so much that I added my injunctions to the effect that if she +wished to please me she would break off all acquaintance with her +cousin, Ellen Vaughan. This, however, she would not promise to do, and +it was the first beginning of the rift, which afterwards widened into a +chasm between us. Her cousin also was too much attached to her to be +easily alienated from her, and the two girls met more frequently than +either her uncle or I were aware of. There was another girl, too--I +forget her name--but she was a sister of Essec Powell's. Agnes and she +had been schoolmates and bosom friends, and they were delighted to meet +here by accident, and I soon found that my wife continually resorted to +Essec Powell's house to pour out her sorrows into the bosom of her +friend; but this I could not allow. To visit the house of my bitterest +enemy--to make a friend of his sister, was a glaring impropriety in a +clergyman's wife, and I cannot even now feel any compunction at having +put a stop to their intercourse--if, indeed, I succeeded in doing so. +A cold cloud seemed to have fallen between me and your mother; and as +for my brother, we scarcely spoke to each other at meals, and avoided +each other at all other times. Still Lewis stayed on, with that +puzzled look on his face, and still Agnes went through her daily duties +with a proud look and a constrained manner. + +"Poor Betto looked anxiously from one to the other of us, and I kept my +still and silent watch. My heart was breaking with distrust of my +wife, and hatred of my brother; but I never spoke of my failing trust +in them both. I brooded upon it night and day, and my life became a +hell upon earth. + +"One day in the early spring, about a month before you were born, +Caradoc, I had been to a funeral at the old church; and hearing of the +serious illness of a parishioner who lived on the high road to +Abersethin, I followed the path on the left side of the Berwen, and as +I neared the bridge which crosses the valley on the top, I suddenly +came upon Agnes, who was sitting on a boulder by the side of the brook, +and as I approached I saw her dry her eyes hurriedly. She rose from +her seat, and her colour came and went as she looked at me. I longed +to take her in my arms and press her to my heart, for she looked pale +and sorrowful." + +An exclamation from Cardo interrupted him. + +"It pains you, Caradoc--it pains me--it pained me then--it will pain me +as long as I have any being. I may be forgiven hereafter, but it +cannot cease to pain me. + +"'Agnes,' I said, 'are you not straying very far from home?' + +"'I came for a walk,' she answered; 'it is a lovely day!' + +"'I did not know you could walk so far,' I said. 'Last evening when I +asked you to come down to the shore with me, you said it was too far!' + +"'Yesterday, Meurig, I was feeling very ill; to-day I am better.' + +"Her lip quivered a little, and she looked round uneasily, I thought. + +"I said, 'I am going to see old Shon Gweydd, or I would walk back with +you; but perhaps you don't mind going alone.' + +"'Oh, no, not at all,' she said, as she began her way back by the +Berwen. + +"I went my way with a heavy heart, and as I entered Shon Gweydd's house +(it was a little way down the road) I looked back at the bridge, and +saw a girl cross the stile and go down into the valley. It was Ellen +Vaughan, and no doubt Agnes had been waiting for her; but when in +returning I met my brother Lewis coming over the same stile into the +high road, my whole soul was filled with anger, and I passed the +brother whom I had loved so tenderly with a short, cold remark about +the weather, and I reached Brynderyn consumed with jealousy and bitter +hatred. + +"The same evening, Agnes was sitting at her work at the bay window of +the west parlour, while I was busily writing in the old farm parlour +which we now use. Lewis entered with the strained and saddened look +which he had worn in my presence latterly; he reached a book from the +bookshelf, and sauntered in through the stone passage into the west +parlour. In a moment I had risen and followed him, and, walking +carefully on the carpet which covered it, then, reached the door of the +sitting-room without being heard, and through the chink of the +half-open door I saw my brother stoop down and whisper something +confidentially in my wife's ear. + +"I entered the room immediately afterwards, and Lewis made some casual +remark about the sunset, while Agnes went on quietly sewing. How to +endure my agony of mind I knew not, for I now felt convinced that my +doubts were warranted; but I was determined to control my feelings and +restrain any expression of anger until after the birth of her child, +which was fast approaching, as I still loved her too much to endanger +her health, and I knew that if once the floodgates of my anger were +opened the storm of passion would be beyond my control. + +"On the following Sunday Agnes came to church for the last time, and +after the service I went into the vestry to take off my gown; and as I +followed the stream of worshippers leaving the porch, I saw her joined +by Lewis, who walked with her towards the lych gate, and before I +reached them I distinctly saw him place a note in her hand. She +quickly put it in her pocket, and, with a friendly and satisfied nod, +he turned round to speak to a neighbouring farmer. + +"The blood surged through my veins"--and the old man rose from his +chair and stood before his son, who sat with his elbow on the table. +Unconsciously the Vicar seemed to take the position of a prisoner +before his judge; his hands were clenched nervously, and as he spoke he +drew his handkerchief over his damp face. + +"Yes," he said, "my blood surged through my veins, but even then I did +not speak a word of complaint or anger. Had I done so, I might have +been spared the years of anguish and remorse which have been my share +since then. + +"I walked home silently by my wife's side, forcing myself to make some +casual remark. She answered as coldly. And thus passed away our only +chance of explanation and reconciliation. You are silent, Caradoc; you +do not like to speak the condemnation and the contempt which you feel +for your father." + +"Father," said Cardo, "I feel nothing but pity for you and pity for my +poor mother. As for my uncle--" + +"Wait, wait, Cardo; let me finish my story. That was the last time +your mother came to church. In a short time afterwards you were born, +and during the intervening time I struggled harder than ever, not to +forgive, but to drop my wife entirely out of my life. I tried to +ignore her presence, to forget that she had ever been dear to me; but I +give you my word, Cardo, I _never_ spoke a harsh or accusing word to +her. I simply dropped her as far as possible out of my life; and she, +though growing paler and thinner each day, still held her head up +proudly; and while I seemed to ignore her presence--though, God knows, +not a look nor a movement escaped me--Lewis was incessant in his tender +attention to her. + +"I had loved my brother passionately, fondly, and the feeling of bitter +hatred which now took possession of me tore my very heart-strings, for, +in spite of my suspicious and jealous nature, I loved these two--my +wife and my brother--with an intensity few would have believed me +capable of. Have I made this plain to you, Cardo? At last one +evening, just at this time of the year, and at this hour of the day, +Betto brought you to me in her arms. She had tears on her face, and as +she looked down at her little white bundle, I noticed that a tear fell +on your little hand. I did not like it, Cardo; though I thought I was +perfectly indifferent to my child, I shrank from the sight of the tear +on your hand, and hoped it did not prognosticate evil for you. + +"Agnes was too ill to see me until the next day, when Betto said she +was calling for me. I rose and went at once; but on the stairs, coming +down to meet me, was a girl, whose face I recognised at once as that of +Essec Powell's sister. I felt great indignation at the sight, as Agnes +knew my intense dislike to the Methodist preacher, and, drawing back +for her to pass, I said, 'I did not expect to meet a stranger in my own +house at such a time, and I must beg that it may not happen again.' + +"The girl passed on, with an angry flush upon her face. Betto gently +drew me into an adjoining bedroom, and, with a troubled face, implored +me not to give way to angry feelings. 'Be gentle to her,' she said; +'poor thing, she's as frail as an eggshell. Wait till she is well, +master, and then--I pray God may bring some light out of this darkness.' + +"I only nodded, and went gently into the sickroom. Agnes was lying +propped up by pillows, her face almost as white as they. Her eyes were +closed, as she had not heard my careful footsteps. I looked at her +intently, while all sorts of thoughts and longings passed through my +mind. At last the intensity of my gaze seemed to awaken her, for she +opened her eyes, and for a moment there was a tremor on her lips. + +"'Meurig,' she said, and she put out her hand, which I took in mine. +Even while I held her hand I noticed on her bed a bunch of sweet +violets which I had seen Lewis gather in the morning.--'Meurig, why +have you been cold to me?' she asked, while her hand still lay in mine. +'If I have ever done anything to displease you, will you not forgive +me, and kiss your little child?' and she looked down at your little +head lying on her arm beside her. Oh, Caradoc, God alone knows the +tumult of feelings which overwhelmed me. I cannot describe them! I +stooped and kissed your little black head, and more, I stooped and +kissed her pale forehead. + +"'I forgive you,' I said. + +"'Is that all?' she said. + +"And as I hesitated, the old haughty flush rose to her forehead, and +turning her head on her pillow, she said, 'I am tired now, and want to +sleep.' + +"So I turned away and closed the door gently, and I never saw her alive +again, for that night she died suddenly. Swiftly the Angel of Death +came, _at her call_. I believe it, Caradoc, for Dr. Hughes who was +sent for hurriedly, declared he knew of no reason why she should not +have lived. + +"'I think she would have recovered, Wynne,' he said, 'had she wished +to; but where there is no wish to live sometimes the powers of life +fail, and the patient dies. Why she did not wish to live _I_ do not +know--perhaps _you_ do,' and my old friend turned from me with a +coldness in his manner, which has remained there ever since." + +The Vicar sank into his chair again, as if the memory of his early +trials had fatigued him, and Cardo, rising and approaching him, drew +his hand gently over his black hair besprinkled with white. His son's +tenderness seemed to reach the old man's heart. + +Burying his face in his hands he gulped down a sob before he continued: + +"Wait a minute, Cardo, you will not pity me when you have heard all my +story. With the earliest dawn I rushed out of the house, which seemed +to stifle me. I longed for the cool morning breezes, and God forgive +me, if I thought too with longing of the cool sandy reaches that lay +under the rippling waters of the bay! On the brow of the hill I met +Essec Powell, who was out early to see a sick cow, and there, while my +heart was sore to agony, and my brain was tortured to distraction, that +man reproached me and insolently dared to call me to account for 'my +inhuman conduct to my wife!' + +"'Ach y fi! What are you? he said, with his strong Welsh accent, 'are +you man or devil?' and he tore open the wounds which were already +galling me unbearably. 'You bring a young girl from a happy home, +where she was indulged and petted, and in a year's time you have broken +her spirit, and you will break her heart. Because her brute of an +uncle forbids his own daughter to go near her--my sister, her old +schoolfellow, goes to see her in her trouble, and you turn her out of +your house. I have longed for the opportunity of telling you what I +thought of you, and of what all the world thinks of you.' + +"I was a strong man, and he was a weak and shrivelled creature; I could +have tossed him over the rocks into the sea below. It required a very +strong effort to control my fury, but I did do so, and I turned away +without answering him, except by a cold, haughty look. I hated him, +Caradoc, and I have hated him ever since. He had not then heard of +Agnes's death, but the news flew fast through the neighbourhood, and I +knew I was everywhere looked upon as her murderer! + +"As I returned to my miserable home, I saw a man on horseback come out +at the back gate. It was one of Colonel Vaughan's servants. I +wondered what brought him there so early, but went in at the front gate +to avoid meeting him. The house was very silent with its drawn blinds. + +"When Betto came in with pale, tearful face, I asked her what had +brought Colonel Vaughan's servant there so early. + +"'A very strange thing, sir,' she said. 'He came to ask if Miss +Vaughan was here? Colonel Vaughan was in great distress--if you call +tearing about and swearing being in great distress--that was what Sam +said, sir--because Miss Vaughan is nowhere to be found. Dir anwl! a +strange thing, indeed, sir!' + +"I was too miserable to pay much attention to her gossip, and began my +breakfast alone, for Lewis had not appeared, and I dreaded to see him. +I had thought it strange that in the turmoil of the night before, with +the hurried footsteps and the arrival of the doctor's gig, my brother +had not been disturbed, and he was apparently still sleeping. I shall +never forget that long, long day. I thought my misery was beyond human +endurance; little did I think that ere night it would be increased +tenfold. + +"I had refused to leave this room, though Betto had done her best to +persuade me to eat the dinner which she had prepared She was always +quick to read my thoughts and understand my feelings. + +"'You would be quite as much alone in the parlour, sir, as you are +here;' she said, 'for I can see nothing of Mr. Lewis. Indeed, I have +been into his room, and I see he has not slept there last night,' and +she flung her apron over her head, and swayed backwards and forwards +crying 'Oh, anwl! beth na i!'[3] and she slowly and tremblingly drew a +note out of her pocket and handed it to me. 'Perhaps that will tell +you something, sir.' + +"'Where did you find this?' I said, + +"I found it on her bed after she died. Mr. Lewis had sent it by Madlen +the nurse.' + +"I tore the note open--I never dreamt it was dishonourable, neither do +I now--and read the words which began the awakening that was to come +with such force and bitterness. They were these: + +"'MY DEAR AGNES,--My warmest congratulations upon the birth of your +little one, and my deepest thanks for all your kindness to me and dear +Nellie. Without your help we should never have been united. Good-bye, +and may God grant us all a happy meeting at some future time. + +"'Your ever grateful and devoted friends, + +"'LEWIS WYNNE and ELLEN VAUGHAN.' + + +"I stared at the letter in a maze of troubled thought, the feeling +uppermost in my mind being 'too late! too late! gone for ever, my +beloved wife! and alienated from me for ever my little less loved +brother!' + +"'And this, sir,' said Betto, drawing another letter from her pocket, +'I found on Mr. Lewis's table. I think it is directed to you.' + +"I hastily tore that open also, and read words that I cannot even now +bring myself to repeat. They were too bitter in their tender +upbraiding, in their innocent ignorance of my suspicions. They spoke +of a love whose existence I had not guessed; of his devotion to Ellen +Vaughan, my wife's cousin; of his deep gratitude to Agnes for her +unfailing kindness to him and to his beloved Ellen; of his deep +distress at my evident dislike of him. + +"'What has come between us, Meurig?' he said. 'What has become of the +faithful love of so many years? Is it possible you have grudged me the +shelter of your roof and the food that I have eaten? I can scarcely +believe it, and yet I fear it is true. Enclosed I leave you a cheque +which will pay for anything I may have cost you; further than that I +can only thank you for your, I fear, unwilling hospitality, and pray +that some day we may meet, when this mysterious cloud, which I have +deplored so much, may have cleared away. + +"'When you read this, Ellen and I will have been married at St. +Jorwerth's Church at Caer Madoc, and shall, I hope, have sailed for +Australia, where you know I have long wished to go.' + +"'Betto,' I said, 'is she lying dead and still upstairs?' + +"'Yes, master, poor angel! still enough and white enough in her coffin! +Why, sir, why?' + +"'Because I wonder she does not come down and reproach us, for we have +been wronging her from beginning to end, Betto! These letters prove to +me that my brother--my beloved, innocent brother--was deeply in love +with her cousin, Ellen Vaughan, and she, in the tenderness of her +heart, helped to bring about their union, and was the means of +delivering the letters which they wrote to each other. They were +married this morning at Caer Madoc Church, and have probably already +sailed for Australia.' + +"Betto left me, sobbing bitterly. I think she has never forgiven +herself; neither can I forgive myself, Cardo. As the years went on, my +sorrow only deepened, and an intense longing arose in my heart for the +friendship of the brother who had been so much to me for so many years. +I wrote to him, Caradoc--a humble, penitent letter, beseeching his +forgiveness even as a man begs for his life. He has never answered my +letter. I know he is alive and thriving, as he writes sometimes to Dr. +Hughes; but to me he has never sent a message or even acknowledged my +letter, and I thirst for his forgiveness--I cannot die without it. + +"I have long cherished the thought that when you came to man's estate I +would send you to him. I would send the best of earthly treasure that +I possess--my only son--to plead for me, to explain for me, and to +bring back his love and forgiveness. Now, Cardo, will you go?" + +"I will, father," said Cardo, rising and placing his hand in his +father's. + +"And can you think over what I have told you and still retain a little +love and pity for your old father?" + +"Father, I feel nothing but the deepest sorrow and pity for you +both--father and mother. I don't know which is to be pitied most. +Thank you for telling me all this, it explains so much that has puzzled +me--it accounts for your sadness and gloom--and--and your apparent +coldness. I will go to Australia, and, please God, I will bring back +my uncle's love and forgiveness to you." + +"God bless you, my boy, and good-night." + +There was a warm hand-clasp, and Cardo left his father sitting by the +flickering candle, which had burnt down to its socket. + + + +[1] A blue mug containing a little over half a pint. + +[2] Dear sweetheart. + +[3] "Oh, dear! what shall I do?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE OLD REGISTER. + +The summer had passed, with all its charms of June roses and soft July +showers, with its sweet, long days of sunshine, and its soft, west +winds brine-laden, its flights of happy birds, and its full promise in +orchard and corn-field. + +Cardo and Valmai still haunted the woods by the Berwen, and walked +along its banks, or sat listening to its trickling music as it hastened +down to the sea; but there was a sadder look on both their faces. +Cardo had new lines about his mouth, and Valmai had a wistful look in +her blue eyes; both had an unaccountable premonition of something +sorrowful to come. + +"Oh, I am afraid of something," the girl had said one day, as she sat +beside her lover, throwing pebbles into the brook, "something worse +even than this terrible parting, which must come next month. What is +it, Cardo? What is hanging over us? Something that darkens the +sunlight and dims the moonlight to me? Are we parting for ever, do you +think?" + +"Nonsense, dearest," said Cardo cheerfully, though the little pucker +between his eyes seemed to speak of the same anxiety and fear. "Isn't +the separation which we must bear enough to account for all sorts of +fears and depressing thoughts? It is that only which dims the sunshine +to me, and makes me feel as if I were losing all the light and +happiness out of my life; but let us cast our fears to the wind, +Valmai, for a year will see all our troubles over; in a year's time I +shall have returned, bringing, I hope, reconciliation and love to my +dear old father--peace for his last days, Valmai. It is worth trying +for, is it not?" + +"Yes, yes; no doubt your presence will be more effectual than a letter." + +"He thinks, too," said Cardo, "that a little travel by land and sea +will brighten my life which he imagines must be so monotonous on this +lonely west coast. He doesn't know of the happy hours we spend here on +the banks of the Berwen, but when I return with loving greetings from +his brother, and, who knows, perhaps bringing that brother with me in +person, then, Valmai, while his heart is softened and tender, I will +tell him of our love, I will ask his consent to our marriage, and if he +refuses, then we must take our own way and be married without his +consent. There is the thatch house just above the mill already waiting +for us--it is my own, you know; and although old Sianco and his wife +don't make much of it, think how lovely you and I would make it. Think +of me sitting in the thatched porch behind those roses smoking, and you +looking out through those pretty little lattice windows under the +eaves." + +Valmai sighed and blushed. "Oh, what dreams, Cardo; I cannot reach so +far. My thoughts stop short at the long winter, when that glistening +sea will be tossing and frothing under the fierce north-west wind. Oh, +I know how it looks in the winter; and then to think that all that lies +between me and you. What a trouble has come upon us when all seemed so +bright and glorious." + +"Yes, I have brought sorrow and unrest into your peaceful life. Will +you give me up; will you break the bonds that are between us; and once +more be free and happy?" + +"Cardo," was all her answer, in a pained tone, as she placed her hand +in his, "what are you talking about?" + +"Nonsense, love, foolish nonsense. I know too well that nothing on +earth or heaven can break the bonds that bind us to each other. And +this terrible parting. I could bear it far more easily if you were +mine, my very own, my wife, Valmai. Then I should feel that nothing +could really part us. Can it not be? Can we not be married here +quietly in the old church, with none but the sea-breezes and the +brawling Berwen for company?" + +"And the old white owl to marry us, I suppose. Oh, Cardo, another +dream. No, no; wait until you return from that dreadful Australia, and +then--" + +"And then," said Cardo, "you will not say no." + +"No," said the girl, looking frankly into his eager face, "I will not +say no. But I must go; I am late. Shoni begins to ask me +suspiciously, 'Wherr you going again, Valmai?' I am sure we could not +go on much longer meeting here without his interference." + +"How dreadful to have Shoni's red hair and gaitered legs dogging our +footsteps in this fairy dell." + +"To whom does this sweet valley belong, Cardo? To you?" + +"To my father. If it ever comes into my possession, it will be so +guarded that no stray foot shall desecrate its paths." + +Cardo was not without hope of being able to overcome Valmai's +reluctance to be married before he left the country, and as he and +Gwynne Ellis returned one day from a sail he broached the subject to +his friend. + +"To-morrow will be the first of September," he said, as he watched the +bulging sail and the fluttering pennon against the blue sky. + +"Yes," answered Ellis, "I am sorry my holiday is coming to a close." + +"I don't see why you should leave, although I am obliged to go." + +"Oh, it will be quite time for me; everything jolly comes to an end +some time or other." + +"True," said Cardo, with a sigh. + +"Well, you heave a sigh, and you look as grave and solemn as any of +Essec Powell's congregation, and, upon my word, I don't see what you've +got to look so glum about. Here you are, engaged to the prettiest girl +in Wales; just going out for a year's travel and enjoyment before you +settle down as a married man in that idyllic thatched cottage up the +valley--a year to see the world in--and a devoted father (for he is +that, Cardo, in spite of his cold ways) waiting to greet you when you +come back. And Valmai Powell following every step you take with her +loving and longing thoughts. No, no, Cardo; you have nothing to pull +such a long face about. On the contrary, as I have said before, you +are a lucky dog." (Cardo grunted.) "Besides, you are not obliged to +go. It seems to me rather a quixotic affair altogether, and yet, by +Jove! there is something in it that appeals to the poetic side of my +nature. You will earn your father's undying gratitude, and in the +first gush of his happiness you will gain his consent to your marriage +with Valmai. Not a bad--rather a clever little programme." + +"Oh, it is all very well for you to talk like that, Ellis; but nothing +you say can lessen the bitterness of parting from Valmai. It is my own +wish to go, and nothing shall prevent me; but I could bear the +separation with much more fortitude if only--" + +And he stopped and looked landwards, where the indistinct grey blur was +beginning to take the pattern of fields and cliffs and beach. + +"If what?" said Ellis, shifting the sail a little. + +"If only I were married to Valmai." + +"Phew! what next?" said Ellis, "married! Cardo Wynne, you are bringing +things to a climax. My dear fellow, it would be far harder to part +from a wife of a week than from a sweetheart of a year. That's my idea +of wedded bliss, you see." + +"Nonsense; it would not!" said Cardo. "It would give me a sense of +security--a feeling that, come fair or come foul, nothing could really +come between me and Valmai; and besides, I should not want her to be +the wife of a week--I should be satisfied to be married even on the +morning of my departure. Come, Ellis, be my friend in this matter. +You promised when I first told you of my love for Valmai that you would +help us out of our difficulties. You are an ordained priest; can you +not marry us in the old church on the morning of the 14th? You know +the _Burrawalla_ sails on the 15th, and I go down to Fordsea the day +before, but not till noon. Can you not marry us in the morning?" + +"Has Valmai consented?" asked Ellis, sinking down in the prow of the +boat and looking seriously at his companion. + +"I--I--have not pressed the question, but if she agrees, will you do +it?" + +"Do it? My dear fellow, you talk as if it were a very simple affair. +Do it, indeed! Where are the banns?" + +"I would buy a license." + +"And the ring?" + +"At Caer Madoc." And Cardo began to look in deadly earnest. + +"And what about the witnesses?" + +"I have even thought of that. Are not your two friends, Wilson and +Chester, coming to Abersethin next week?" + +"So they are," said Ellis, "to stay until I leave. The very thing. +They will be delighted with such a romantic little affair. But, Cardo, +how about my duty to your father, who has been a very kind friend to +me?" + +"Well," said Cardo, "shall you be doing me an unkindness or the reverse +when you make Valmai my wife? Is she not all that a woman can be? has +she not every virtue and grace--" + +"Oh, stop, my dear fellow! don't trouble to go through the inventory. +I'll allow you at once she is perfect in mind, body, and soul--and the +man to whom I marry her will owe me an eternal debt of gratitude!" + +"True, indeed!" said Cardo, beginning energetically to lower the sails, +and guide the boat safely to shore. + +He said no more, until, after a tramp over the beach, both buried in +their own thoughts, they drew near the path to Brynderyn. + +"You will help me, then, at the old church on the morning of the +fourteenth?" + +"I will," said Ellis. + +Before that morning arrived, Cardo had won from Valmai a frightened and +half-reluctant consent. + +She was no longer a child, but seemed to have matured suddenly into a +woman of calm and reflective character, as well as of deep and tender +feeling. + +To be married thus hurriedly and secretly! How different to the +beautiful event which she had sometimes pictured for herself! Where +was the long, white veil? Where were the white-robed bridesmaids? +Where were the smiling friends to look on and to bless? There would be +none of these indeed, but then--there would be Cardo! to encourage and +sustain her--to call her wife! and to entrust his happiness to her. +Yes, she would marry him; she would be true to him--neither life nor +death should shake her constancy--no power should draw from her lips +the sweet secret of their marriage, for Cardo had said, "It must be a +secret between us, love, until I return and tell my father myself--can +you promise that, Valmai?" and with simple earnestness she had placed +her hand in his, saying, "I promise, Cardo." And well might he put his +trust in her, for, having given that word of promise, no one who knew +her (they were very few) could doubt that she would keep it both in the +letter and in the spirit. + +The morning of the fourteenth dawned bright and clear, but as Cardo +threw up his window and looked over the shining waters of the bay he +saw that on the horizon gray streaky clouds were rising, and spreading +fan-like upwards from one point, denoting to his long-accustomed eye +that a storm was brewing. + +"Well! it is September," he thought, "and we must expect gales." + +He dressed hurriedly though carefully, and was soon walking with +springy step across the beach, and up the valley to the old church. He +cast a nervous glance towards Dinas, wondering whether Valmai would +remember her promise--fearing lest she might have overslept +herself--that Essec Powell or Shoni might have discovered her +intentions and prevented their fulfilment; perhaps even she might be +shut up in one of the rooms in that gaunt, grey house! Nothing was too +unreasonable or unlikely for his fears, and as he approached the church +he was firmly convinced that something had happened to frustrate his +hopes; nobody was in sight, the Berwen brawled on its way, the birds +sang the ivy on the old church tower glistened in the sunshine, and the +sea-gulls sailed overhead as usual. + +It had been decided the night before that Gwynne Ellis should leave the +house alone at his usual early hour, and that his friends should come +by the high road from Abersethin, and down by the river-path to the +church. They were not to stand outside, but to enter the church at +once, to avoid any possible observation; but in spite of this prior +arrangement Cardo wondered why no one appeared. + +"Can Gwynne Ellis be late? or those confounded fellows from Abersethin +have forgotten all about it, probably? It's the way of the world!" + +As he crossed the stepping-stones to the church he felt sure there +would be no wedding, and that he would have to depart at midday still a +bachelor, leaving Valmai to all sorts of dangers and trials! + +When he entered the porch, however, and pushed open the door of the +church, in the cool green light inside, he found his three friends +waiting for him. + +"I wonder why she doesn't come," he said, turning back to look up the +winding path through the wood; "it's quite time." + +"Yes, it is quite time," said Ellis. "I will go and put on my +surplice. You three can sit in that ricketty front pew, or range +yourselves at the altar rail, in fact--there she is coming down the +path, you won't be kept long in suspense." + +And as the three young men stood waiting with their eyes fixed upon the +doorway, Valmai appeared, looking very pale and nervous. Gwynne Ellis +had already walked up the church, and was standing inside the broken +altar rails. Valmai had never felt so lonely and deserted. Alone +amongst these strangers, father! mother! old friends all crowded into +her mind; but the memory of them only seemed to accentuate their +absence at this important time of her life! She almost failed as she +walked up with faltering step, but a glance at Cardo's sympathetic, +beaming face restored her courage, and as she took her place by his +side she regained her composure. Before the simple, impressive service +was over she was quite herself again, and when Cardo took her hand in +his in a warm clasp, she returned the pressure with a loving smile of +confidence and trust, and received the congratulations of Gwynne Ellis +and his two friends with a smiling though blushing face. + +The two strangers, never having seen her before, were much struck by +her beauty; and indeed she had never looked more lovely. She wore one +of her simple white frocks, and the white hat which had been her best +during the summer, adorned only with a wreath of freshly gathered +jessamine, a bunch of which was also fastened at her neck. With the +addition of a pair of white gloves which Cardo had procured for her, +she looked every inch a bride. She wore no ornament save the wedding +ring which now glistened on her finger. + +"Let us do everything in order," said Ellis. "Take your wife down to +the vestry." + +Cardo drew her hand through his arm, and at the word "wife," pressed it +gently to his side, looking smilingly down at the blushing face beside +him. When they reached the vestry, whose outer wall in the old tower +was lying crumbling on the grass outside, while the two young men +chatted freely with the bride and bridegroom, they were joined by +Gwynne Ellis, carrying an old and time-worn book under his arm. + +Cardo gasped, "I never thought of the register; it is kept in the new +church! Is it absolutely necessary, Ellis? What shall we do? What +have you there?" + +"Why, the old register, of course! I furraged it out last night from +that old iron chest inside the altar rails. There is another there, +going back to the last century, I should think. I must have a look at +them; they will be interesting." + +"Ellis, you are a friend in need," said Cardo. "I had never thought of +this part of the ceremony." + +"No, be thankful you had a cool and collected head to guide you. See, +here is a blank space at the bottom of one of these musty pages. It +won't be at all _en regle_ to insert your marriage here; but I dare not +bring the new register out of the other church; moreover, there may be +another wedding soon, and then yours would be discovered." + +"What a genius you are!" said Cardo, while Gwynne Ellis wrote out in +bold, black characters, under the faded old writing on the rest of the +page, the certificate of Cardo and Valmai'a marriage. + +"There, you have tied a knot with your tongue that you can't untie with +your teeth! Here is your marriage certificate, Mrs. Wynne. I need not +tell you to keep it safely." + +Suddenly there was a rustling sound above them, which startled them +all, and Cardo grasped Valmai hastily, to the great amusement of the +young men. + +It was the white owl, who had solemnly watched the proceedings in the +vestry, and now thought it time to take her flight through the broken +wall. "There Cardo," said Valmai, "I said the white owl would be at +our wedding, and the sea breeze, and the Berwen; I heard them both +while you were writing your name." + +"Well now," said Gwynne Ellis, "Wilson, Chester, and I will leave you +both, as I know what a short time you will have together." + +And with many congratulations and good wishes, the three young men left +the old church, leaving Cardo and Valmai to their last words before +parting. + +There was a ricketty, worm-eaten bench in the vestry, and here they sat +down together. Cardo trying to keep up a cheerful demeanour, as he saw +her face sadden and her eyes fill with tears. + +"How lovely you look, my darling," he said. "How did you manage to +escape Shoni's shrewd eyes in such finery?" + +"I put my scarlet cloak on and drew the hood over my head, and it +tumbled my hair," she said, with a little wan smile. Already the +glamour of the wedding was giving way to the sorrow of parting. "I had +my hat under my cloak. Oh, anwl! I am getting quite a deceitful girl!" + +Cardo winced; was he sullying the pure soul? But there was no time for +retrospection, the minutes were fleeting rapidly by, he had to return +to his breakfast with his father, who would expect his last hours to be +spent with him. + +"When do you start from Brynderyn?" she asked, her voice growing lower +and more sorrowful. + +"At two o'clock, love, punctually; the cart has already gone with my +luggage. Valmai, how can I part from you--how can I leave you, my +beloved, my wife?" + +"Oh, Cardo, Cardo!" was all her answer. She buried her face in her +hands, and the tears trickled through her fingers. + +Cardo drew them away tenderly. + +"There is a tear on your ring, dear," he said, kissing it, "that must +not be; let that at all events be the emblem of meeting and happiness +and joy. Think, Valmai, only a year, and I shall come and claim you +for my own! Confess, dearest, that it is a little solace that we are +united before we are parted, that, whatever happens, you are my wife +and I am your husband." + +"Yes, indeed; indeed, it is my only solace, and I am going to be brave +and hopeful. My ring I must not wear on my finger; but see, I have +brought a white satin ribbon to tie it round my neck; it shall always +be there until you take it off, and place it on my finger again." + +"And you will keep our secret until I return, darling?" + +"Yes," said Valmai impressively, "_until you come back, Cardo, and give +me leave to reveal it_." + +"We must part, fanwylyd; my father must not miss me." + +"No, no--go, I will not keep you back." + +There was a long, passionate embrace, during which the white owl +flapped in again to her nest. + +"Good-bye and good-bye, darling, and farewell until we meet again." + +"Leave me here, Cardo. Good-bye, dearest husband!" + +And so they parted, and, in the memory of both, for many a long year +the sound of the Berwen held a place, and the flap of the white owl's +wings brought back to Valmai memories of pain and happiness, mixed +together in a strange tumult. Slowly she made her way up the path to +Dinas, the scarlet cloak was taken out from the bush under which it had +been hidden, and, enveloped in its folds, she entered the house. Going +up to her own room, she took off the sacred wedding dress, and, folding +it carefully, laid it away with its bunch of jessamine, while she +donned another much like it, but of a warmer material, for she loved +white, and seldom appeared in a coloured dress. + +With Cardo the hours slipped by quickly. His father had many last +directions to give him, and Betto had endless explanations to make. + +"You will find your gloves in your pocket, Mr. Cardo, and your clean +handkerchiefs are in the leather portmanteau; but only six are by +themselves in the little black bag." + +Gwynne Ellis had accompanied his friends to their lodgings at +Abersethin, and after breakfast returned to Brynderyn; they had all +been charmed with the bride's appearance. + +"By Jove! Ellis," Chester had said, "I think I envy that Wynne in spite +of the parting. I have never seen such a lovely bride!" + +"Any more pearls of the sort to be found in this out-of-the-way place?" +asked Wilson. + +"No, I have seen none," said Ellis; "and I doubt if you will find one +anywhere," for he was an enthusiastic admirer of Valmai. + +"I have quite enjoyed the part we have taken in this romantic little +affair--eh, Wilson?" + +"Ra--ther!" he replied. + +"But don't forget it is to be a dead secret," said Ellis, as he left +the door. + +"Oh! honour bright!" + +At two o'clock punctually Cardo and his father seated themselves in the +light gig, which was the only carriage the Vicar affected, and when +Betto had bid him a tearful good-bye, with all the farm-servants +bobbing in the background, Gwynne Ellis, grasping his hand with a warm +pressure, said: + +"Good-bye, Wynne, and God bless you! I shall look forward with great +pleasure to meeting you again when you return from Australia. I shall +stay here a week or two at your father's invitation." + +"Yes," said the Vicar, in a wonderfully softened tone, "it would be too +trying to have the house emptied at one blow." + +As they drove along the high road together and crossed the little +bridge over the Berwen Valley, the Vicar, pointing with his whip, drew +Cardo's attention to the stile beside the bridge. + +"This is the stile which I saw Ellen Vaughan crossing the day I met +your mother waiting for her. I met my brother afterwards, and oh! how +blinded I was! But there, a man who is carried away by his passions is +like a runaway horse, which, they say, becomes blind in the eagerness +of his flight." + +It was needless to call Cardo's attention to the stile. His first +meeting with Valmai was so intimately connected with it; and as he +crossed the bridge, he called to mind how they had shared their +gingerbread under the light of the moon. + +"Perhaps you never noticed there was a stile there?" said the Vicar. + +"Yes," said Cardo, turning round to take a last look at it and the +bridge, and--was it fancy, or did he see something waving in the wind? + +For a moment he laid his hand on the reins with the idea of running +back to see, but "Jim" was fresh, and, resenting the check, swerved +uncomfortably aside. + +"Let him go," said the Vicar. "What do you want?" + +"Nothing, sir. For a moment I thought I would go back and take a last +look at the valley; but never mind, let us go on. How black it looks +in front!" + +"A storm rising, I think," said his father. + +"Yes. There will be a gale from the north-west; we shall catch it on +the _Burrawalla_, I expect. Well, I have often wished to see a storm +at sea." + +His father did not answer, but looked gloomily on at the gathering +darkness in front. He was full of fears for his son's safety, but it +was not his nature to speak openly of any tender feelings. His late +confession, although it had comforted and soothed him, was yet a +mystery to himself, and he thought of it with a kind of awkward +surprise and something like resentment. He was, however, unusually +talkative and even gentle as they drove on together. When at last he +had seen Cardo fairly off in the coach, with his luggage piled on the +top, he turned homewards with a heavy foreboding at his heart. + +Should he ever see his son again? Had he sent him from his native land +to be lost to him for ever? And how willingly he had given in to his +father's wishes! But, certainly there was nothing to attract him to +his home--nothing but his love for a surly old father! + +"A fine fellow!" he soliloquised, with a side jerk of his head. "A +fine fellow! a son to be proud of!" + +And when Gwynne Ellis joined him at tea, they vied with each other in +their praises of Cardo's character. + +If Cardo had followed his impulse and returned to look over the stile, +he would have found on the mossy hedge inside a little white heap of +misery. For Valmai, who had watched for an hour to catch a last +glimpse of him, had been frightened when she saw the "Vicare du" +looking towards the stile, and evidently drawing Cardo's attention to +it; she had shrunk back until they had passed, and then standing on the +hedge, had waved a last good-bye, and immediately afterwards slipped +down in an abandonment of grief. She remained for some time sobbing +and moaning on the grass, until at last her passion of tears subsided. +Almost suddenly growing calmer, she stood up, and, not attempting to +dry her eyes, let the tears roll slowly down her cheeks. She clasped +her hands, and tried to steady her voice as, looking up at the flying +clouds above her, she spoke words of encouragement to herself. +"Valmai," she said, "you must learn to bear your sorrow in silence; you +are no longer a girl--you are a wife! and you must be a brave and good +woman!" + +For a moment she continued to look steadily up at the clouds and beyond +them into the depths of blue sky which showed here and there between +the storm rifts, then she quietly put on her hat and returned down the +well-known path to the river, and with steady, set face and firm step +made her way homeward. + +When her uncle appeared at the tea-table, he carried two large books +under his arm, and when the meal was over the lamp was lighted and the +red curtains drawn. Up here on the cliffs the wind was already blowing +furiously; it roared in the chimneys, and found its way in through +every chink in the badly-fitting windows. + +"Now, let me see--chap. xii.--Valmai, have you found it? St. Antwn's +sermon to the fishes," and he settled himself in his usual position, +with legs crossed, head thrown back, listening with evident pleasure, +while Valmai read and read, her thoughts defying control, and for ever +following Cardo on his journey. + +"Oh, how the wind is shrieking, uncle; it is like a human creature in +pain!" + +"Wind?" said the old man, looking with dreamy eyes at the girl so full +of hopes and fears--"storm? Well, it does blow a little, but it's +nothing. Go on, Valmai, you are not reading so good as usual," and +once more she applied herself to the page, and endeavoured to keep her +thoughts from roaming. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +REUBEN STREET. + +All night the storm increased in violence, blowing straight from the +north-west with an incessant fury which tossed and tore the waters of +the bay. Against the black cliffs the foaming waves hurled themselves +like fierce animals leaping up to reach their prey, but the adamant +rocks, which had defied their rage for centuries, still stood firm, and +flung them back panting and foaming into the swirling depths below, to +rise again with ever-increasing strength, until the showers of spray +reached up even to the grassy slopes on which the sheep huddled +together. + +Valmai had lain with wide-open eyes through the long hours of the +night, listening with a shrinking fear to every fresh gust which +threatened to sweep the old house away. No raging storm or shrieking +wind had ever before done more than rouse her for a moment from the +sound sleep of youth, to turn on her pillow and fall asleep again; but +to-night she could not rest, she was unnerved by the strain and +excitement of the day, and felt like some wandering, shivering creature +whose every nerve was exposed to the anger of the elements. When at +last it was time to rise and prepare her uncle's breakfast, she felt +beaten and weary, and looked so pale and hollow-eyed, that Shoni, who +was fighting his way in at the back door as she appeared, exclaimed in +astonishment. + +"What's the matter with you, Valmai? You bin out in the storm all +night?" + +"Almost as bad, indeed, Shoni; there's a dreadful wind it is." + +"Oh, 'tis not come to the worst yet," said Shoni. + +The doors continued to bang and the windows to rattle all through that +day and the greater part of the next, and it was not till the evening +of the third day that Valmai ventured to put on her cloak and pay a +visit to Nance's cottage. The tide was low as she crossed the Rock +Bridge, and there was no danger, therefore, from the waves. On her +return she recalled the events of the last storm, when Cardo's strong +arm had saved her from death. + +Her eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered a little as she +remembered that night; but she set herself bravely to struggle with her +sorrow, and to look forward with hope and joy to the future. + +When she entered the little parlour, which her neat fingers had +transformed into a nest of cosy comfort, she found her uncle standing +at the table, looking dazed and helpless. + +"Oh, Valmai!" he said, "here's a letter from John, my brother, and +indeed I don't know what am I to do." + +"What is the matter, uncle? Is he ill?" + +"Yes, he is very ill. He has broke his leg, and he got no one to look +after his house; and he is asking will you go down to take care of him. +Will you go, Valmai? He got lot of money. I will drive you down to +Caer Madoc to the coach. That will take you to the station to meet the +train, and you will be in Fordsea by four o'clock to-morrow." + +Fordsea! What visions crowded round the name. Cardo had been there so +lately, and now where was he? Out on that stormy sea, every moment +increasing the distance between them. + +"I will go if you like, uncle, and nurse him until he gets well." + +"There's a good gel, indeed; and you will kom back to me again, 'cos I +am used to you now, and you are reading very nice to me, and saving a +great deal of my old eyes. He got a servant," he added, "but she is +only an ole ooman, coming in in the morning and going home in the +evening." + +"Oh, yes, I will manage very well," said Valmai. + +She grasped at the idea of change of scene and life, hoping it would +help her to regain her peace of mind. So the next day saw her on her +way to Caer Madoc, driven by her uncle in the rickety old gig which had +carried him on his preaching expeditions for years. Along the high +road Malen bore them at a steady trot, and when Valmai took her place +in the coach, and bid her uncle good-bye, she called to mind that only +two days ago Cardo had been its occupant, and her heart was full of +wistful longings. Yes, she felt she was a foolish girl, but she was +always intending to grow into a sensible and useful _wife_; and, with +this virtuous intention in her mind, she tried to banish all vain +regrets, and a serious, composed little look came over her mouth. + +Arrived at Fordsea, she sought for her uncle's house, it was in Reuben +Street, she knew, and not far from the docks. Reaching the roadway, +she caught sight of the foaming white waves in the harbour, and +wondered how far the _Burrawalla_ had already got on her way towards +the Antipodes. + +"Captain Powell of _The Thisbe_?" said a lounging sailor who was +passing, with his hands in his pockets and his cap very much at the +back of his head. "Yes, miss, Aye knows him well. It's not far from +here, and Ay'll be passing his door. Will Aye carry your bag?" + +And, not waiting for an answer, he hoisted it on his shoulder, and +signed to her to follow him. He was right; she had not far to go +before she reached the little, uneven row of houses called Reuben +Street, at one of which an old woman, with bucket and cloth, was +preparing to wash the doorstep. + +"Here's the young leddy come," said the sailor, pushing the portmanteau +into the passage. + +"Will I pay you something?" said Valmai, nervously fingering her purse. + +"Aw naw, nawthin' at all," said the sailor, hurrying away, with a flush +on his face that showed her her hesitation had not been unwarranted. + +In fact, Jim Harris considered himself a "friend of the family," and +had gone to the station with the express intention of meeting the +"young leddy." Having for years sailed under Captain Powell, he still +haunted his house whenever he was on dry land. Every morning he went +in to shave him, and in the evening he mixed his toddy for him and made +him comfortable for the night, expecting and receiving no more than the +friendship and grateful thanks of the old man who had, not so long ago, +been his captain. Having deposited the portmanteau, Valmai had +scarcely time to thank him before he had slouched away with a polite +touch of his cap. + +"My uncle lives here? Captain Powell." + +"Yes, miss, and thank the Lord you've come, for Ay've bin ewt on the +road looking for you twenty taimes to-day, though Ay towld him you +couldn't come afore the train. There he is, knocking again. You go up +to him, miss, that's all he wants. Ay'll bring your bag up, honey. +There's your room, raight a-top of the stayurs; and there's your +uncle's door on the first landing. Ye'll hear him grumbling." And, +following these instructions, Valmai knocked at the first door she came +to. + +"Come in, and be tarnished to you," said an extraordinarily gruff +voice; and, almost before she had time to enter the room, a heavy book +came flying at her. Fortunately, it missed its aim, and she stood for +a moment irresolute at the door, while her uncle, without looking at +her, continued to rail at his much-enduring domestic, whom he was +accustomed to manage by swearing at and flattering in turns. His voice +was a guttural rumbling, which seemed to come from some cavernous +bronchial depths. + +"Ain't the little gel come yet?" + +"Uncle, here I am," said Valmai, approaching the bed with a frightened +look, though she tried to put on a placid smile. + +The shaggy head turned on its pillow. + +"Hello and so you are; in spite of that old witch saying for the last +hour that you couldn't 'acome yet. Come here, my beauty, and shake +hands with your old uncle. Ay've got one hand, you see, to shake with +you." + +"Yes, uncle, and to throw books at me when I come in." + +There was a low, gurgling laugh, which deepened the colour in the old +man's face so much that Valmai, fearing he was going to have a fit, +hastened to say something quiet and calming. + +"I came as soon as I could, uncle. We were so sorry to hear of your +accident. How did it happen?" + +"The Lord knows, my dear, Ay don't, for Ay've walked up that street +four or five times every day the last faive years, and never done such +a thing afore. But there--" and he began to gurgle again, to Valmai's +horror, "there must always be a beginning to everything, so Ay slipped +on a d--d stone, somehow or other, and, being no light weight, broke my +leg, and sprained my wrist into the bargain. Take off your things, may +dear. Are you up for nursing an old man till he's well again?" + +"Indeed, I'll do my best, whatever," said Valmai, taking off her hat +and cloak. "Uncle Essec said I was to stay until you were quite well." + +"That's raight. Ay knew you'd come, my gel, though that old devil +wanted me to think that perhaps you wouldn't. 'She'll come,' ay sez, +'and if she's like her father she'll come almost afore she's asked.' +So ready, he was; and so kind. And how's old Essec? Got his nose +buried in them mouldy books same as ever?" + +"Just the same," said Valmai. "Shall I take my things to my own room?" + +"Yes, may dear. It's the little room a-top of this. Where's that old +hag now? She ought to be here to show you your room," and reaching a +heavy stick, which stood by his bedside, he knocked impatiently on the +bare boarded floor, calling Mrs. Finch! Mrs. Finch! so loudly at the +same time, that Valmai seriously feared he would burst a blood vessel. + +"Deaf as a post," he said, gasping. + +"Leave it to me, uncle; don't tire yourself. She has shown me my room, +and there she is taking my bag up. Now, see how quickly I'll be back, +and bring you a nice cup of tea, and one for myself in the bargain, for +I am famishing," and she left the room with a cheerful nod towards the +old man. + +"Bless her purty face!" said the rumbling voice when the door was +closed. "Ay don't want her cup o' tea! Never could bear the slosh, +but Ay'm blest if Ay won't drink it to the dregs to please her." + +In a very short time Valmai returned, carrying a tray laid out neatly +with tea-things for two; and, drawing a little round table towards the +bed, placed the tray upon it, while Mrs. Finch brought in some slices +of cold ham. + +"There, you see," said Valmai, "I'm making myself quite at home. I +asked Mrs. Finch for that ham." + +"Of course you did, may dear! Didn't Ay tell you, you old addlepate," +he said, turning to poor Mrs. Finch, whose only desire seemed to be to +find a place for the ham and get out of the room--"didn't Ay tell you +the lil gel would come?" + +"Iss you did--many taimes to-day," said Mrs. Finch, while the old man +fumbled about for another book to throw after her. + +Valmai laughed, but chided gently; + +"Oh, poor old thing, uncle! She flew about like lightning to get the +tea ready. Now, here's a lovely cup of tea!" + +"Ah! It do smell beautiful!" And he allowed himself to be raised up +on his pillow, while he drank the tea down at a gulp. + +"Bravo! uncle," said Valmai; "ready for another?" + +"Another! Oh, dash it, no; one's enough, may dear. 'Twas very naice +and refreshing. Now you have your tea, and let me look at you." + +And as Valmai partook of her tea and bread and butter and ham, even his +hospitable feelings were satisfied. + +"Now I'm going to ring for Mrs. Finch to take these things away, uncle; +no more books, mind!" + +"No, no," he said, laughing; "she's had four to-day, and a pair of +slippers, and that'll do for one day. After all, she's a good ole +sole! though why sole more than whiting or mackerel Ay never could make +ewt. She knows me and my ways, may dear, and Ay pay her well. Eight +shillings a week regular! and she only comes at ten and leaves at +faive. Oh! bless you, _she_ knows when she's well off, or she wouldn't +put up with the books and slippers. Ay know 'em!" he added, with a +shrewd wink, which set Valmai laughing again. When Mrs. Finch came in +for the tray he was quite amiable. "Well, ole gel," he said, "this is +the night for your wages, isn't it?" + +"Iss, sir," said the woman, with a sniff and a bob curtsey. + +"There's my purse. Count it out to her, may dear. Eight shillings, +every penny, and there's a shilling overhead for good luck, Mrs. Finch, +becos the lil gel has come to manage the ship for us. Now remember, +she's capting now and you're the mate." + +"Iss, sir, and thank you," said Mrs. Finch, disappearing with practised +celerity through the doorway. + +And so Valmai took her place at once as "captain" of her uncle's house, +and, in spite of his gruff ways and his tremendous voice, she felt more +at home with him than with Essec Powell, for here her presence was +valued, and she felt sure that she had a place in the old man's warm +heart. + +She slept heavily through the next night, and in the morning awoke +refreshed, and with a feeling of brightness and cheerfulness which she +had not expected to feel so soon. Her new life would give her plenty +to do, to fill up every hour and to drive out all useless regrets and +repinings. + +Deep in her heart lay the one unsatisfied longing. Nothing could alter +that; nothing could heal the wound that Cardo's departure had made +except the anticipation of his return. Yes, that day would come! and +until then she would bear her sorrow with a brave heart and smiling +face. The weather continued rough and stormy, and, looking out from +her bedroom window, the grey skies and windswept streets made no +cheerful impression upon her. The people, the hurrying footsteps, and +the curious Pembrokeshire accent, gave her the impression of having +travelled to a foreign country, all was so different to the peaceful +seclusion of the Berwen banks. It was a "horrid dull town," she +thought and with the consciousness of the angry white harbour which she +had caught sight of on her arrival, her heart sank within her; but she +bravely determined to put a good face on her sorrow. On the second +morning after her arrival she was sitting on the window-seat in her +uncle's room, and reading to him out of the newspaper, when the bang of +the front door and a quick step on the stair announced the doctor's +arrival. + +"Well, captain," he said, "and how is the leg getting on?" + +He was a bright, breezy-looking man, who gave one the impression of +being a great deal in the open air, and mixing much with the +"sailoring." Indeed, he was rather nautical in his dress and +appearance. + +"You have a nurse, I see," he added, looking at Valmai with a shrewd, +pleasant glance. + +"Yes," said the captain, "nurse and housekeeper in one. She is may +niece, poor Robert's daughter, you know." + +"Ah! to be sure," said the doctor, shaking hands with her. "He went +out as a missionary, didn't he?" + +"Yes, to Patagonia, more fool he," said the captain. "Leaving his +country for the sake of them niggers, as if there wasn't plenty of +sinners in Wales for him to preach to. But there, he was a good man, +and Ay'm a bad 'un," and he laughed, as though very well satisfied with +this state of affairs. + +"Have you heard the news?" said the doctor, while he examined the +splints of the broken leg. + +"No, what is it?" rumbled the captain. + +"Why, the _Burrawalla_ has put back for repairs, Just seen her tugged +in--good deal damaged; they say, a collision with the steam-ship, +_Ariadne_. + +"By gosh! that's bad. That's the first accident that's ever happened +to Captain Owen, and he's been sailing the last thirty years to my +knowledge. Well, Ay'm tarnished, but Ay'm sorry." + +"Always stops with you?" inquired the doctor. + +"Yes, has all his life. There's the little back parlour and the +bedroom behind it always kept for him." + +"Well, you are going on very nicely. Now for the wrist." + +The captain winced a little and swore a good deal while his wrist was +under manipulation. It evidently pained him more than the broken leg. + +"What the blazes are your about, doctor? Leave it alone--do." + +"Come, come, now that's all over. You must mind and keep it very +quiet. No shying of books and things, remember. Well, good-bye; come +and see you again to-morrow. I daresay you'll see Captain Owen by and +by. Good-bye, my dear," turning to Valmai, "take care of your uncle." +And like a gust of wind he ran down the stairs, banged the front door, +and was gone. + +Valmai had dropped her paper and listened breathlessly to his +communications, and she was sitting, pale and silent, as a tumult of +exciting thoughts rushed into her mind. + +"The _Burrawalla_ come back! damaged! a collision! And Cardo, where +was he? Was it possible that the dull grey town contained her lover?" + +"Well, to be sure, here's a pretty kettle of fish," said her uncle, +using strong compulsion to adapt his words to the squeamishness of a +"lil gel." "Here's the _Burrawalla_, Valmai, put back for repairs, may +friend Captain Owen's ship, you know. Sech a thing has never happened +afore. You'll have to put his rooms ready, may dear, and laight a +fayer by 'm by, for he's sure to be here to-night. You'll look after +him, won't you?" + +"Yes, uncle, I'll do my best, whatever. I had better go and get his +sheets aired at once." And she left the room, glad to hide her pale +face and trembling hands from her uncle. + +Once outside the bedroom door, she crossed her hands on her bosom, as +though to stop the tumultuous beating of her heart. What was going to +happen? Should she hear Cardo's name from Captain Owen? Could she +find her way to the docks? and as a gleam of sunlight shone in through +the little window in the linen cupboard, she thought what a bright and +happy place Fordsea was after all. + +She hurried through her domestic preparations, and then, after a +consultation with her uncle, made an expedition into the market, +ordering supplies for the following days. When she returned, the front +door was open, and, entering the passage, she heard loud voices in her +uncle's room, and gently pushing the door open, saw a rough-bearded, +blue-eyed man standing by the bedside. + +"Well, that's all settled, then; you'll let the young man have my +rooms? 'Twill only be for two or three days. And this is your niece? +Well, upon my word, I begin to repent of my bargain. Hard lines for +me! to be tied to the docks night and day to watch those repairs, while +my young friend comes here to be taken care of and fussed about by my +old friend and such a pretty girl." + +Valmai felt disappointed; she had hoped to learn something from their +guest of Cardo and his whereabouts. + +"I am sorry," she said, as he took his departure, "that you can't stay +here." + +The gallant captain taking her hand, looked admiringly at the blushing +face. + +"By Jove, and so am I; but dooty is dooty, my dear, especially your +dooty to your ship. Good-bye, come and see you again soon." And once +more Valmai was left to conflicting emotions. + +The day passed quickly, while she divided her attention between her +uncle's wants and her preparations for the guest who was to arrive +about six o'clock. Mrs. Finch would prepare the tea and roast the fowl +which was to accompany it, and Valmai added little dainty touches of +flowers and lights for the table. + +"We won't light the candles till he knocks at the door; and when he has +once sat down to his meal, I can manage about taking it out; but I am +very nervous. I wonder what he will be like." + +Her uncle knocked and called incessantly, giving fresh directions and +asking innumerable questions, in his anxiety that his friend's friend +should be made comfortable under his roof. At last everything was +ready, a bright fire burning in the grate threw its glow through the +open door of the adjoining bedroom, and flickered on the +prettily-arranged dressing-table. All looked cosy and home-like, and +when everything was completed, Valmai retired to put on a fresh frock +of white serge. + +"His name is Gwynn," said her uncle at last, while she listened +breathlessly to the opening of the front door, and the entrance of the +stranger. + +"This is Captain Powell's house?" said a voice which set Valmai's +pulses throbbing, and all the blood in her body rushed to her face and +head. For a moment she felt dizzy, and she all but dropped the tray +which she was holding for her uncle. + +"Don't you be afraid, may dear," said the captain consolingly. +"Captain Owen tells me he's a ra-al gentleman, and they are always +easily pleased. He won't look at you, may dear; but, by Jingo, if he +does, Ay'm not ashamed of you. Now, you go down, and make a nice +curtsey, may dear, not like Mrs. Finch makes it, you know, but as, Ay +bet, you have larnt it at the dancing school; a scrape behind with one +foot, you know, and hold your frock with two hands, and then say, 'My +uncle hopes you will make yourself quite at home, sir.'" + +"Oh, uncle!" said Valmai, in despair, "he's not come out yet from his +bedroom. Won't I wait till he is seated down at his tea, and till Mrs. +Finch has gone?" + +"Well, confound the ole 'ooman," said the captain, knocking violently +on the floor, "where is she now? Why don't she come and tell me how +he's getting on? Roast fowl nicely browned, may dear? Egg sauce?" + +"Yes, and sausages, uncle. There, he is come out now, and Mrs. Finch +is taking the fowl in; he is saying something to her and laughing. Now +he is quite quiet," said the girl. + +"Of course; he's attending to business." And for the next quarter of +an hour, Valmai had the greatest difficulty in restraining her uncle's +impatience. + +"Let him have time to finish, uncle!" + +"Yes, yes; of course, may dear, we'll give him time." + +"I can now hear Mrs. Finch say, Is there anything else, sir? So she is +going. Yes, there, she has shut the front door. Oh, dear, dear! Now +if he rings, I _must_ go in." + +"Oh, dear, dear," said the captain, in an irritable voice, "what is +there to oh, dear, dear, about? You go down and do as Ay tell you, and +you can just say, as the ladies do, you know, 'I hope your tea is to +your laiking, sir.' Go now, at once." And as she went, with +hesitating footsteps, he threw an encouraging "Good gel" after her. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE WEB OF FATE. + +Arrived on the door-mat of the little parlour, where Cardo Wynne was +coming to an end of a repast, which showed by its small remnants that +it had been thoroughly appreciated, Valmai fell into a tremor of +uncertainty. Was it Cardo? Yes, she could not be mistaken in the +voice; but how would he take her sudden appearance? Would he be glad? +Would he be sorry? And the result of her mental conflict was a very +meek, almost inaudible knock. + +"Come in," shouted Cardo from within. Another pause, during which +Cardo said, "Why the deuce don't you come in?" + +The door was slowly opened, and there appeared Valmai, blushing and +trembling as if she had been caught in some delinquency. + +For a moment Cardo was speechless with astonishment, but not for long, +for, in answer to Valmai's apologetic, "Oh! Cardo, it's me; it's only +me, whatever!" she was folded in his arms, and pressed so close to his +heart that her breath came and went in a gasp half of fright and half +of delight. + +"Gracious heavens! What does it mean?" he said, holding her at arms' +length. "My own little wild sea-bird! My little white dove! My +darling, my wife! Where have you flown from? How are you here?" + +They were interrupted by a thundering knock on the floor above them. +Cardo started. "What is that?" he said. + +Valmai laughed as she somewhat regained her composure. + +"It is Uncle John," she said. "Wait while I run up to him, and then I +will come back and explain everything." + +"Uncle John!" said Cardo in bewilderment, as he saw through the doorway +the graceful white figure flit up the narrow stairs. "Uncle John! Can +that be Captain Powell? Of course, old Essec's brother, no doubt. I +have heard they are Pembrokeshire people." + +"Well, how is he getting on?" said the old man, as Valmai entered +blushing. + +"Oh, all right, uncle! there isn't much of the fowl left, so I'm sure +he enjoyed it." + +"That's raight, may gel, that's raight. Now make him as comfortable as +you can. May jar of tobacco is down there somewhere, and there's a +bottle of whisky in the corner cupboard. Ay hear Jim Harris coming to +the door; now don't disturb me any more, and tell Mr. Gwyn Ay'll be +happy to see him tomorrow. Now, mind, no larks." + +"No what?" said Valmai, with puckered eyebrows. + +"Larks, larks! Don't you know what 'larks' are, child? Ay bet you do, +with that pretty face of yours." + +Valmai still looked puzzled. + +"Well, 'high jinks,' then; flirtation, then; will that suit your +ladyship?" + +"Oh, flirtation! Very well, uncle, good-night." And after a kiss and +another "good gel," Valmai passed Jim at the doorway, and went slowly +downstairs. + +Cardo stood at the bottom awaiting her with wide open arms. + +"Come, come, Valmai; how slow you are, fanwylyd. I am waiting for you. +What made you step so slowly down the stairs?" he said, as he drew her +towards him; "you should have flown, dearest." + +"I was thinking," said Valmai. + +"And of what?" + +"Thinking whether I had told uncle an untruth. He said, 'no +flirtations,' 'larks;' he called it; and I said, 'Very well, uncle,' +and I was wondering whether husband and wife could flirt." + +Cardo laughed heartily. + +"Come and sit by me, Valmai," he said, "and let us see. Come and +explain to me how, in the name of all that is wonderful and delightful, +I find you here, with your head nestled on my shoulder, instead of +being separated from me by wind and wave, as, in the natural course of +events, you should have been?" + +"Well, you see, Cardo, when you passed the stile on Thursday (oh, that +sad Thursday!)"--Cardo shared in the shiver which shook her--"I was +there, to catch a last glimpse of you; but I was afraid to show myself +because of the 'Vicare du,' so I shrank down behind the hedge till you +had passed, and then I stood up and waved my handkerchief, and then you +were gone; and I fell down on the moss, and cried dreadfully. Oh, +Cardo, I did feel a big rent in my heart. I never thought it was going +to be mended so soon; and I roamed about all day, and tried hard to +keep my sorrow out of my thoughts, but I couldn't; it was like a heavy +weight here." And she crossed her hands on her bosom. "All that day, +and all the next, I went about from place to place, but _not_ to the +Berwen, I could not walk there without you; and the next morning, when +I came back from Ynysoer, where I had been to see Nance, I found my +uncle reading a letter. It was from Jim Harris, the sailor, who does +everything for Uncle John, to say he had broken his leg, and would I +come and nurse him? And indeed, I was very glad, whatever, to have +something to do; so I came at once. Uncle Essec drove me to Caer +Madoc, and I thought what a dull, grey town Fordsea was, until this +morning when the doctor came and said the _Burrawalla_ had come back +for repairs; and then the sun seemed to shine out, and when I went out +marketing, I could not think how I had made such a mistake about +Fordsea. It is the brightest, dearest place!" + +"It is Paradise," said Cardo. + +"There's Jim Harris going! I must go and lock the door." + +"Everything is all raight, miss, and Ay wish you good-night," said Jim, +as he went out. He went through the same formula every night. + +"Now for my part of the story," said Cardo, when she returned. + +"First let me take the tea-things away, Cardo." + +"No, no, bother the tea-things; let them be for a while, Valmai. I +forbid your carrying them away at present, and, you know, you have +promised to obey." + +"Yes, indeed, and to love you, and no one ever did love anybody as much +as I love you. Oh, I am sure of it. No, indeed, Cardo. Not more, +whatever, but you know, you know," and her head drooped low, so that he +had to raise her chin to look into her face. + +"I know what? I know you are my wife, and no earthly power can +separate us now. Where is your ring, dearest? It should be on this +little finger." + +"No, it is here," and Valmai pressed her hand on her neck; "you know I +was to wear it here instead of on my finger until next year." + +"Until I came back, darling; and until I took it off myself and placed +it on your finger. Come, wifie, where is it?" + +Valmai allowed herself to be persuaded, and Cardo, undoing the white +satin ribbon, drew off the ring, and placed it on her finger. She +looked at it thoughtfully. + +"Am I, then, really your wife, Cardo?" + +"Really and truly, Valmai; signed, sealed, and delivered," he said; +"and let me see the man who dares to come between us!" and his black +eyes flashed with a look of angry defiance which Valmai had not seen +there before. + +"Oh, anwl! I hope your eyes will never look like that at me," she said. + +"But they will," said Cardo, laughing, "if you are the culprit who +tries to divide us. You don't know how fierce I can be." + +"Please, sir, can I take the tea-things now?" + +"On condition that you come back at once. No, let me carry them out +for you, dearest; you shall not begin by waiting upon me." + +"Oh, but I must, Cardo, for old Mrs. Finch goes home when she has +brought the tea in always." + +And she laughed merrily at Cardo's clumsy efforts at clearing away. As +she opened the door into the passage a tremendous roaring and snorting +filled the air. + +"What on earth is that?" said Cardo. + +"It is my uncle snoring, and if you dropped that tray (which I am +afraid you will) the clatter wouldn't awake him." + +"Good old man! let him rest, then. You are not going to wash up those +things?" + +"No, Mrs. Finch will do that in the morning. And now, Cardo, I must do +what my uncle told me to do," she said, as they returned into the cosy +parlour, glowing with the light of the blazing fire; and, holding up +her dress with her two fingers, she made a prim little curtsey, and +said: + +"I hope your tea has been to your liking, sir? And now for the rest of +my duty. Here is his jar of tobacco, and here is the kettle on the +hob, and here is the bottle of whisky, and here are the slippers which +I had prepared for you." + +"Little did I think, Valmai, it was you who had made everything look so +cosy and sweet for me--these flowers on the table and all those pretty +fal-lals on my dressing-table. Little did I think it was my little +wife who had prepared them all for me. But as I entered the front door +a strange feeling of happiness and brightness came over me." + +"And I knew the first tone of your voice, Cardo. Oh, I would know it +anywhere--among a thousand." + +There were innumerable questions for the one to ask and the other to +answer as they sat in the glowing firelight. First, there was the +description of the repairs required by Captain Owen's ship--"Blessed +repairs, Valmai!"--and the extraordinary special Providence which had +caused the ss. _Ariadne_ to collide at midships with the _Burrawalla_, +and, moreover, so to damage her that Cardo's berth and those of the +three other inmates of his cabin would alone be disturbed by the +necessary repairs. + +"Captain Owen thinks we shall be ready to sail in three days, so it is +not worth while writing to my father," said Cardo. "The thick fog +which looked so dismal as I drove into Caer Madoc with him--how little +I guessed it would culminate in the darkness which brought about the +collision, and so unite me with my beloved wife. Valmai, if Providence +ever arranged a marriage, it was yours and mine, dearest." + +"But, Cardo--" + +"'But me no buts,' my lovely white sea-bird. Nothing can alter the +fact that you are my own little wife." + +"Yes, I know," said Valmai, "but if you love me as much as you say you +do, grant me one request, Cardo." + +"A hundred, dearest; what is it?" + +"Well, we have had to be deceitful and secret--more so than I have ever +been in my life. We could not help it; but now, here, let us be open. +Give me leave to tell my uncle the truth." + +"Valmai! he will write at once to his brother, and the news will reach +my father, and it will break his heart to find I have deceived him. +No, let me be the first to tell him. I shall have no hesitation in +doing so when I return this time next year." + +"But, Cardo, dear old Uncle John is quite a different sort of man to my +Uncle Essec or to your father. I know he would never, never divulge +our secret; he is kindness itself, and would, I know, feel for us. And +it would be such a comfort to me to know that we had been open and +above-board where it was possible to be so. Cardo, say yes." + +"Yes, yes, yes, dearest, I know, I feel you are right, so tell him the +whole truth. Oh, how proud I should be to tell the whole world were it +possible, and how proud I _shall_ be when I return, to publish abroad +my happiness. But until then, Valmai, you will keep to your promise of +perfect secrecy? for I would not for all the world that my father +should hear of my marriage from any lips but my own. You promise, +dearest?" + +"Cardo, I promise," and Valmai looked pensively into the fire. "A year +is a long time," she said, "but it will come to an end some time." + +"Don't call it a year. I don't see why I should not be back in eight +or nine months." + +The kettle sang and the bright fire gleamed, the old captain snored +upstairs, and thus began for Valmai and Cardo that fortnight of +blissful happiness, which bore for both of them afterwards such bitter +fruits; for upon overhauling the _Burrawalla_ it was discovered that +she had sustained more injury than was at first suspected, and the two +or three days' delay predicted by Captain Owen were lengthened out to a +full fortnight, much to the captain's chagrin and the unspeakable +happiness of Cardo and Valmai. + +Next day at eleven A.M. Captain Powell was lying in state, not with the +trappings of mourning around him, but decked out in a brilliant scarlet +dressing-gown, a yellow silk handkerchief bound round his head for a +night-cap. Jim Harris had just shaved him, and as he left the room had +said: + +"There, capting, the Prince of Wales couldn't look no better." + +Valmai flitted about, putting the finishing touches to her uncle's +gorgeous toilet. + +"Do Ay look all raight, may dear?" + +"Oh, splendid, uncle, only I would like you better in your plain white +night shirt and my little gray shawl pinned over you." + +"Oh, go 'long! with your shawls and your pins! You wait another month +and Ay'll be kicking may heels about on the quay free from all these +old women's shawls and dressing-gowns and things. Now, you go and call +the young man up." + +And Valmai went and soon returned, bringing Cardo with her. + +"Well, Mr. Gwyn, and how are you? Very glad to see you, sir, under may +roof. Hope you slept well, and that the lil gel has given you a good +breakfast." + +"Oh, first rate, sir," said Cardo, shaking hands and taking the chair +which Valmai placed for him beside the bed. + +"Well, now, here's a quandary, the _Burrawalla_ is in! but it's an ill +wind that blows nobody any good, and since you must be delayed, Ay'm +very glad it has landed you here." + +"The delay is of no consequence to me; and it's a wind I shall bless +all my life." + +"Well, Ay don't know what Captain Owen would say to that nor the owners +nayther. They wouldn't join in your blessings, I expect." + +Cardo felt he had made a mistake, and looked at Valmai for inspiration. + +"Mr. Wynne was rather hurried away, uncle, so he was not sorry to come +back." + +Cardo nodded his thanks to Valmai, and the captain and he were soon +chatting unconstrainedly, and when at last Cardo accepted a cigar from +a silver case which the captain drew from under his pillow, his +conquest of the old man's heart was complete. + +"If Ay _am_ cooped up here in bed," he said, "Ay'm not going to be +denied may smoke, nor yet may glass of toddy, though the doctor trayed +hard to stop it. 'Shall Ay mix it a little weaker, sir?' sez Jim +Harris. None of your tarnished nonsense, Ay sez, you mix it as usual. +Ay've stuck to my toddy (just one glass or two at naight) for the last +thirty years, and it's not going to turn round on me, and do me harm +now. Eh, Mr. Gwyn?" + +Cardo lighted his cigar with an apology to Valmai. + +"Oh, she's used to it," said the captain, "and if she don't like it, +she can go downstairs; you'll want to see about Mr. Gwyn's dinner, may +dear." + +"No, no, sir," said Cardo, "certainly not. I dine every day with all +the other passengers on board the _Burrawalla_. I shall come back to +my tea, and I hope your niece will always sit down to her tea and +breakfast with me." + +"Oh, well, if you laike. She's quaite fit to sit down with any +nobleman in the land." + +Later on in the day, Valmai, sitting on the window-seat reading out to +her uncle from the daily paper, suddenly laid it aside. + +"Rather a dull paper to-day, uncle!" + +"Yes, rather, may dear; but you are not reading as well as usual;" and +she wasn't, for in truth she was casting about in her mind for a good +opening for her confession to her uncle. "Suppose you sing me a song, +may dear!" + +And she tried-- + + "By Berwen's banks my love hath strayed + For many a day in sun and shade, + And as she carolled loud and clear + The little birds flew down to hear." + + +"That don't go as well as usual, too," said her uncle, unceremoniously +cutting short the ballad. "Haven't you any more news to give me?" + +"Shall I tell you a story, uncle?" + +"Well, what's it about, may dear? Anything to pass the taime! Ay'm +getting very taired of lying abed." + +"Well then, listen uncle; it's a true story." + +"Oh, of course," said the old man. "'Is it true, mother?' Ay used to +ask when she told us a story. 'Yes, of course,' she'd say, 'if it +didn't happen in this world, it happened in some other,' so, go on, may +dear." + +"Well," said Valmai, laughing rather nervously, "this happened in this +world, whatever! Once upon a time, there was a young girl who was +living on a wild sea-coast. It was very beautiful, but she was very +lonely sometimes, for she had no father nor mother, nor sister nor +brother." + +"Poor thing," said the old man. + +"Yes, certainly, she was very lonely," continued Valmai; "but one day +she met a young man, bright and brave and true." + +"Handsome?" + +"Yes, handsome, with sparkling black eyes, and--and--oh, very handsome! +and they loved each other truly, and--and--" + +"Yes, yes! skip that. Ay know that. Go on." + +"You can imagine that the poor lonely girl gave all her heart to her +lover, as there was no one else who cared for it; and so the days were +going by, and they were all in all to each other. But he had a stern, +morose father, and she had a cold and selfish uncle; and these two men +hated each other with a deadly hatred, just like a story book." + +"Yes, Ay know," said the old man; "like Romeo and Juliet, you know." + +"Perhaps, indeed," said Valmai; "but anyway, they dare not tell anyone +of their love, for they knew that the old father would never agree to +their being married, and the young man was very fond of his father, +although he was so dark and dour. At last, suddenly, he told his son +that he wanted him to go a long way off on business for him, and, +wishing to please him, he agreed to go." + +"More fool he!" said the captain. "Ay wouldn't 'a gone." + +"But he promised, and he hoped that when he had given his father this +proof of his love, he would give his consent to his marriage." + +"Was he rich?" + +"Yes, rather, I think." + +"Well, why in the name of common sense didn't he defy his tarnished old +father, and marry the girl he liked?" + +"You'll see, uncle; wait a minute. The days passed on, and their +parting was drawing near, and the nearer it came the more miserable +they were; and at last the lover begged his sweetheart to marry him, so +that he might feel, when he was far away, that she was really his wife +whatever might happen. Well, they were married the very morning on +which he left; married in an old, deserted church by a young clergyman, +who was a good and true friend to them." + +"A jolly nice man he must have bin!" + +"Yes, indeed, he was." + +"You are making it all up in your head, Ay know. But what did they do +next?" + +"Well, as soon as they were married, they kissed and said good-bye with +breaking hearts." + +"Oh, dash it!" said the captain, "Ay'd have managed it better than +that, anyhow." + +"But they didn't. The bridegroom sailed away, for the country he was +going to was miles and miles and miles over the sea, and the poor bride +was left at home with her sorrow. But soon afterwards she went to live +with another relation, a dear old man--the best, the kindest, the +tenderest, the jolliest old man in the world. In fact, he had only one +fault, and that was that he sometimes used a bad word." + +"Poor old chap!" said the captain. "You mustn't be too hard upon him +for that, Valmai, becos Ay dare say he couldn't help it. P'r'aps you +wouldn't believe it now, but there was a taime when Ay swore like a +trooper; and it grew upon me so much that Ay d--d everything!--even the +milk for breakfast--and Ay'm dashed if Ay could stop it, Valmai. May +poor mother was alive then, and she sez to me one day with tears in her +eyes, 'Tray, may boy, to leave off swearing; it is killing me,' she +sez, with her sweet, gentle voice. So Ay sez to mayself, 'John,' Ay +sez, 'you are a d--d fool. You're killing your mother with your +foolish swears. Pull up short,' sez Ay, 'and tray and faind some other +word that'll do.' So Ay fixed upon 'tarnished,' and Ay'm dashed if may +mother wasn't perfectly satisfayed. It's a grand word! Puts you in +mind of tar and 'tarnal and tarpauling, and lots of shippy things. +'Twas hard to get used to it at first; but 'pon may word now, may dear, +it comes as nat'ral as swearing. But there! go on with the story. +Where were we?" + +Valmai was a little bewildered by the captain's reminiscences. + +"Well, we had just come to where the girl, or rather the young wife, +had gone to live with her other uncle. Here she would have been as +happy as the day is long, had it not been for the continual sorrow for +her lover." + +The captain began to look a little suspicious, but Valmai hastened to +prevent further interruptions. + +"But now comes the wonderful part of the story, uncle. A dreadful +storm arose, and a thick fog came on, and the ship in which the +bridegroom sailed was so damaged that she had to put back for repairs. +The young man found lodgings in the town, and what house do you think +he came to? but the very one where the bride lived with her dear old +uncle, and they made up their minds to tell him everything, and to +throw themselves on his generosity. Dear uncle, what do you think of +my story?" + +"Dashed if Ay didn't begin to think it was me you meant by the old man. +But child, child, you are not going to cheat that kind old uncle, and +tell him a pack of lies, and laugh at him. You are not the bride?" + +"Yes, uncle," said Valmai, with blushing face and drooping eyelids. + +"And Mr. Gwyn is the bridegroom?" + +"Yes. His name is Wynne, not Gwyn." + +"And you knew nothing about it until he came here yesterday?" + +"Nothing; but that he had sailed in the _Burrawalla_, and when I heard +she had returned a wild hope came to me, and when I heard his voice in +the passage I could have fainted with joy." + +"And you are both united under may roof? and are man and wife?" + +"Yes. Oh, uncle, don't be angry! It was not our own doing. It was +Providence who sent him back to me from the storm and fog. _Don't_ be +angry." + +"Angry, child!" said the old man, almost lifting himself up in his bed; +"why Ay'm tarnished if anything so jolly ever happened in may laife +before. And to think we have dodged the old father! and the old uncle! +Why, that must be Essec!" and this discovery was followed by a burst of +rumbling laughter, which set Valmai more at her ease. + +"But never mind who he is, here you are, and here you shall be happy. +Ay'll take your parts, may dears. Ay'll see that nothing comes between +you any more." + +"And you will keep our secret, uncle, until Cardo comes back?" + +"Of course, child. We mustn't tell anyone, for fear it will get round +to the old father's ears. Bay the bay, who is he?" + +"Mr. Wynne, the Vicar of the parish, the 'Vicare du' they call him, +from his black looks." + +"The 'Vicare du!'" said the captain, "why! he is rolling in money! +You've done a tidy little job for yourself, may gel, and your old Uncle +John will befriend you." + +Here Mrs. Finch opened the door, and, with a sniff, said, "The +gentleman's come back, and he wants to know can he see Miss Powell?" + +The captain fell into another fit of laughter, while Mrs. Finch stared +at him in astonishment. + +"Tell him to come up," he said, at last, "you gaping old gudgeon, what +you standing staring there for? Send Mr. Wynne up. Tell him the lady +is here, and Ay want to see him." + +In a few moments Cardo bounded up, three steps at a time, but not +without fears as to the effect of Valmai's revelation, for she had +whispered to him as she had let him out at the front door: + +"I am going up to tell him now." + +"Well Ay never!" said the Captain, with pretended severity; "how dare +you show your face to me after stealing may lil gel from under may very +nose? Come here, you rascal, and shake hands over it! Wish you joy, +may dear fellow! And the lil one, where is she? Come here, you lil +fool! What are you hiding there for? Come and put your hand in your +husband's. There now! that's something like it. And God bless you. +So you're husband and wife, are ye?" looking critically from one to the +other. "Well, ye're a jolly good-looking pair! And so ye're married, +are ye?" + +"With your permission, sir," said Cardo, laughing, "and with your +blessing upon us. I am so thankful to feel I shall not be leaving +Valmai without a friend when I sail." + +"No, no, not without a friend. Ay'll stick to her. But, look here, +keep it all dark from old Finch!" And he seemed bursting with the +importance and pleasure of his secret. "You go down to your tea, may +dears; Ay ain't going to be a selfish old uncle. No, no, go along with +you, both of you, and send old Finch up to me. But look here!" he +called after them, in a hoarse whisper, "mum's the word!" + +The sun shone brilliantly, and the weather seemed to repent of its late +burst of temper. Never had there been such a lovely September! Never +had the harbour glistened so brightly in the sunshine, and never since +he had broken his leg had the captain laughed so heartily or enjoyed +himself so thoroughly as he did during the fortnight which followed, +when Cardo read to him out of the newspaper and Valmai sang at her work +about the house. + +Captain Owen came in every day with news of the repairs. + +"Well, Mr. Wynne," he said one morning, "I am happy to tell you we +shall sail to-morrow afternoon." + +Cardo's heart sank, and Valmai turned very pale. + +"Your cabin is being refitted to-day, and I shall be glad if you can +come on board by four o'clock to-morrow afternoon. There's every +promise of fine weather. No more fogs, no more collisions, I hope." + +"I'll take care to be on board in good time," Cardo said. + +"Tarnished if Ay won't be awful dull without you!" said Captain Powell. +"He's been as jolly, and as much at home here as you would yourself, +Owen! He's read to me and he's brought me cigars, and always with a +smile on his face; and Ay hope he's bin comfortable here." + +"Thoroughly, indeed," said Cardo. "I shall never forget the fortnight +I have passed under your roof." + +"The lil gel has done her best, Ay know," said his host. + +"A year I think you said you were going out for," said Captain Owen. + +"Well, I hope to be away only eight or nine months; certainly not +longer than a year," said Cardo. + +And while the two old sea captains bade their last good-byes and good +wishes to each other, Cardo slipped out to find Valmai, who had quietly +disappeared. + +She was sitting on the old red sofa in the little back parlour in an +abandonment of grief. + +"Oh! Cardo, Cardo, it has come! Now in reality it has come!" + +Cardo drew her towards him. + +"Cheer up, darling," he said. "You'll be brave for my sake, won't you?" + +"Yes," she said, trying to check her sobs, "this is the last time I am +going to be weak and childish. To-morrow I will be strong and brave +and womanly. You will see, Cardo, a bright, courageous wife to cheer +her husband at parting, and to bid him look forward with hope to +meeting again. Oh! I know quite well what I ought to be." + +"You are perfection in my eyes, f'anwylyd--that is what makes the +parting with you so cruel. Gwynne Ellis was quite right when he said +that it would be much harder to part with a wife of a week than a +sweetheart of a year." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE "BLACK DOG." + +During the next few weeks, Cardo Wynne was generally to be seen pacing +the deck of the _Burrawalla_, playing with the children or chatting +with some of the passengers. He walked up and down, with his hands +sunk deep in his pockets, and cap tied firmly under his chin, for there +was a pretty stiff breeze blowing, which developed later on in the +voyage into the furious gales and storms which made that autumn so +memorable for its numerous wrecks and casualties. Cardo was a great +favourite on board, his frank and genial manner, the merry twinkle of +his eye, and his tender politeness to the very old or the very young +had won all hearts. With good-natured cheerfulness he entered into the +plans and pastimes of the youthful part of the community, so that he +had made a favourable impression upon all, from the cabin boy to the +captain, and from the old general, who seldom left his berth, to the +big black retriever, who was making his third voyage with his master to +the Antipodes. + +"Always a pleasant smile on his face when you speak to him," said one +of the ladies to a friend one day; "but I think he has a rather sad +look sometimes, when he is pacing up and down with his hands in his +pockets." + +"Yes," said the other, with a sentimental air, "I wonder what he is +thinking of at those times! I'll make love to the captain, and see if +I can find out something about him, they seem very intimate. We must +try and cheer him up, dear." + +"He doesn't seem to want much cheering up now," said her friend, as +Cardo passed them with two other young men, who were enjoying a story +told by one of them, Cardo's merry laugh being loudest and heartiest of +the three. But--there was a sober, wistful look on his face sometimes +which was not habitual to it, and as the days slipped on, he might +often be seen, leaning over the side of the vessel with an anxious +pucker on his forehead. + +The parting with Valmai had, of course, been a trying ordeal. With the +fervour of a first and passionate love, he recalled every word she had +spoken, every passing shade of thought reflected on her face, and while +these reveries occupied his mind, there was a tender look in the deep +black eyes and a smile on his lips. But these pleasant memories were +apparently often followed by more perplexing thoughts. One afternoon +he had been standing for some time lost in a dream, while he looked +with eyes that saw nothing over the heaving waters to the distant +horizon, when the captain's voice at his elbow recalled him to his +surroundings. + +"You are looking at the very point of the wind, the very eye of the +storm." + +"The storm!" said Cardo, starting; "are we going to have one?" + +The captain looked critically in the direction towards which they were +sailing. + +"Dirty weather coming, I think." + +"Yes, I see," said Cardo; "I had not noticed it before, though. How +inky black the sky is over there! And the sea as black, and that white +streak on the line of the horizon!" + +"We shall have a bit of a toss," said the captain. "Couldn't expect to +get to Australia on a mill pond." + +"Mill pond do you call the swells we have had the last few days?" + +"Almost," replied the captain, leaving him unceremoniously, and +shouting some orders to his crew. + +Thus left, Cardo fell again into a deep reverie. Yes, it looked black +before them! "But I have always wished to see a storm at sea, and if I +only had Valmai with me, I should be joyous and exultant; but instead +of that, I am alone, and have a strange foreboding of some evil to +come. I can't be well, though I'm sure I don't know where I ail, for I +feel alright, and I eat like a horse." + +"Come, Mr. Wynne," said one of the ladies, who had marked his serious +looks, "we must really call you to account! You have fallen into a +brown study again. You must let us cheer you up. We can't have the +very life of the party losing his spirits. Now if you had left your +wife at home, as Mr. Dawson has!" + +"I have done that," said Cardo, "but I am not at all likely to fall +into low spirits. I have never in my life known what that means; but a +man, more especially a married man, must have his moments of serious +thought sometimes." + +"Yes, of course," said the lady, with a considerable diminution of +interest in "the handsome Mr. Wynne!" "You have left your little ones +too, I suppose?" + +"No," said Cardo, laughing, "I have none." + +"Ah, indeed, that's a pity!" and she took the first opportunity of +joining her friend, and telling her of her discovery. + +Cardo continued to look out to sea. No, bad enough to leave Valmai, +but "little ones"? Would that time ever come? and as he pondered, a +fresh idea seemed to strike him. It was evidently a painful one, it +stung him like the lash of a whip, and clenching his hands, and +muttering something between his teeth, he roused himself hastily, and +joined a party of young people, who were amusing themselves with the +pranks of a little boy, who, delighted with the notice taken of him, +strutted about and gave his orders, in imitation of the captain. + +"Oh, here's Mr. Wynne," said the little urchin, and in a moment he was +lifted on to Cardo's shoulder, whooping with delight, and for the next +hour, the laugh was loudest and the fun most furious where Cardo and +his little friend were located. Before long, however, the storm was +upon them. Masts creaked and cordage rattled; the sails had been +lowered, and everything made safe, and Captain Owen, standing on the +bridge, looked energetic, and "fit" to fight with the storm-fiend. The +ladies soon retired, and many of the gentlemen followed them below, +some of the younger and hardier remaining on deck. Amongst them was +Cardo, who watched the fury of the elements as the wind tore down upon +them. Once, as the captain passed him, he asked, "Is there any +danger?" "I see none," was the laconic reply. It satisfied Cardo, and +he gave himself up to watch the grandeur of the storm. It was natural +that the thought of Valmai should enter his mind, and that he should +long for her presence; but it was not natural that he, a young and +healthy man, in the first flush of his manhood, should feel this +strange depression, this dark cloud hanging over him, whenever he +thought of his young wife. It was unlike Cardo. If his life had been +devoid of any special interest or excitement, it had at least been free +from care. Not even his lonely childhood, or his dull, old home had +dimmed the brightness and elasticity of his spirits. He had never had +a cobweb in his brain, and this haunting shadow which followed every +sweet memory of his wife was beginning to rouse his resentment, and +while the storm raged around him, and the ship ploughed her way through +the seething waters, Cardo Wynne, set himself with manful determination +to face the "black dog" which had haunted him lately; and somewhat in +this groove ran his thoughts. + +"Valmai, sweet Valmai, I have left her; it could not be helped. I will +return to her on the wings of love as soon as I have fulfilled my +father's wishes." But a year--had he provided fully and properly for +her happiness during that time? Money, amply sufficient, he had left +in her uncle's keeping for her, as she had firmly refused to accept it +herself. "I shall not want it; I have plenty for myself. I have +twenty gold sovereigns in my little seal purse at home, and I shall +receive my next quarter's allowance soon. No, no, Cardo, no money +until we set up house-keeping," and he had acceded to her wishes; but +had, unknown to her, left a cheque in her uncle's keeping. "Why did I +claim from her that promise of secrecy? What if circumstances might +arise which would make it impossible for her to keep it?" He knew that +having given her promise to him, she would rather die than break it. +He had acted the part of a selfish man, who had no thought, but of his +own passionate love; the possible consequences to her had not before +occurred to his mind. But now, in the stress of the storm, while the +thunder rolled above him, and the lightning flashed over the swirling +waters, everything seemed clear and plain. He had done wrong, and he +would now face the wrong. Their happy meeting at Fordsea, as blissful +as it was unexpected, might be followed by times of trouble for +Valmai--times when she would desire to make known her marriage; and he +had left her with an embargo upon her only means of escape out of a +difficulty. Yes, the path was plain, he would write to her and release +her from her promise of secrecy. Better by far that his father should +be angered than that Valmai should suffer. Yes, it was plain to him +now; he had left the woman he loved in the anomalous position of a +married woman without a husband. What trying scenes might she not pass +through! What bitter fruits might not their brief happiness bear! + +The next day they had cleared the storm, its fury having been as +short-lived as it was sudden. The sea was gradually quieting down, and +the sun shone out bravely. The sails were unfurled and the +_Burrawalla_ once more went gaily on her way. + +Cardo had spent all the morning in writing; he would send his letter by +the first opportunity. It was full of all the tender expressions of +love that might be expected under the circumstances. His pen could +scarcely keep up with the flow of his thoughts. "I have done wrong in +making you promise to keep our marriage a secret," he wrote, "and I +repent bitterly of my thoughtlessness. Many things might happen which +would make it absolutely necessary that you should disclose it. For +instance, your uncle might die; what would then become of you? +Certainly you would have your good old Uncle John to fall back upon, +and he is a host in himself. If any circumstances should arise which +would make it desirable for you to do so, remember, dearest, it is my +express wish that you should make known to all the world that you are +Valmai Wynne, the beloved wife of Caradoc Wynne." Page after page was +written with the lavish fervour of a first love-letter, very +interesting to the writer no doubt, but which we will leave to the +privacy of the envelope which Cardo addressed and sealed with such +care. He placed it in his desk, not expecting that the opportunity for +sending it would so soon arrive. In the course of the afternoon, there +was some excitement on board, for a large homeward bound ship was +sighted, which had been a good deal damaged by the storm. She had been +driven before the wind, and had borne the brunt of the gale before it +had reached the _Burrawalla_, having sprung a leak which considerably +impeded her course. She hove to within hailing distance, and received +the aid which the better condition of Captain Owen's ship enabled him +to confer. She was _The Dundee_ (Captain Elliotson), bound for +Liverpool. All letters were delivered to her keeping, and the ships +went on their way, but to what different destinations. _The Dundee_, +after a stormy passage, was wrecked off the coast of France. The +captain and crew were saved, but the ship became a total wreck, sinking +at last in deep water; and thus Cardo's letter never reached Valmai. + +Its transmission, however, relieved him of much of the uneasiness which +had hung over him, and his usual cheerfulness returned in a great +measure. + +Meanwhile, Valmai hoped and longed for the promised letter. + +"Why does he not write, I wonder?" was the question continually +uppermost in her thoughts. + +The voyage of the _Burrawalla_ was, on the whole, prosperous, although, +towards the end, she was much delayed by adverse winds, so that Sydney +harbour was not reached until the end of the fourth month. A further +and unexpected delay arose from the illness of a passenger who occupied +a berth in Cardo's cabin, and as they were nearing their destination he +died of typhoid fever. Consequently the _Burrawalla_ was put into +quarantine, of course to the great annoyance and inconvenience of all +on board. + +"You are not looking well, Mr. Wynne," said the doctor one day. + +"Oh, I'm alright," said Cardo, "only impatient to get on shore. I feel +perfectly well. Why, my dear doctor, I have never had a day's illness +in my life, as far as I can remember." + +"I can believe that," said the doctor; "and what a splendid sailor you +have been. But still, let me know if you are not feeling well." + +It was quite true that Cardo had latterly experienced some sensations +to which he had hitherto been a stranger--frequent headaches and loss +of appetite; but, being of a very hardy temperament, he tried to ignore +the unpleasant symptoms, and waited for the end of the quarantine with +feverish impatience. + +When at last they were allowed to land, he was amongst the liveliest +and most energetic of the passengers. + +He drove at once to the Wolfington Hotel, to which he had been +recommended by Captain Owen. As he stepped out of the cab, the portico +of the hotel seemed strangely at loggerheads with the rest of the +building, He managed, however, to get safely inside the hall, and, +after engaging a bedroom, followed his conductor up the stairs, though +each step seemed to rise to meet his foot in an unaccountable manner. + +"A long sea voyage doesn't suit me, that's certain," he soliloquised, +as he entered the room and busied himself at once with his luggage. He +took off the labels with the intention of substituting fresh ones +addressed to his uncle's farm, deciding not to stay a day longer than +was necessary in Sydney, but to make inquiries at once as to the best +way of getting to Broadstone, Priory Valley. He still fought bravely +against the feeling of lassitude and nausea which oppressed him, and +went down to his lunch with a bold front, although the place seemed +floating around him. But in vain did the odour of the Wallaby soup +ascend to his nostrils; in vain was the roast fowl spread before him. +He scarcely tasted the viands which the attentive waiter continued to +press upon him; and at last, pushing his plate away, he rose from the +table. + +"I shall want writing materials and some labels on my return," he said, +as he left the room with a somewhat unsteady step. + +"On the razzle-dazzle last night, I expect," said the waiter, with a +wink at his fellow. + +The fresh air seemed to relieve Cardo, in some degree, of the weight +which dragged him down; he was even well enough to notice that the +uneven streets were more like those of an old-fashioned English town +than anything he had expected to find in Australia. But this feeling +of relief did not last long. In the street which led down to the quay +he observed a chemist's shop, and, entering it, asked for a "draught or +pick-me-up" of some kind. + +"I feel awfully seedy," he said, sinking into a chair. + +"Yes, you look it," said the chemist; "what's wrong?" + +"I think I must give in," said Cardo, "for I believe I am sickening for +typhoid fever." + +The chemist looked grave. + +"I advise you to go home at once, and to bed." + +"Yes," replied Cardo, trying to rise to the emergency, and still +manfully struggling against the disease which threatened him. "Yes, I +will go home," he said again, walking out of the shop. He took the +wrong turning however, going down towards the harbour, instead of +returning to the hotel, and he was soon walking under a burning sun +amongst the piled-up bales and packages on the edge of the quay. A +heavy weight seemed to press on his head, and a red mist hung over +everything as he walked blindly on. At a point which he had just +reached, a heap of rough boxes obstructed his path, and at that moment +a huge crank swung its iron arm over the edge of the dock, a heavy +weight was hanging from it, and exactly as Cardo passed, it came with a +horizontal movement against the back of his head with terrible force, +throwing him forward insensible on the ground. The high pile of boxes +had hidden the accident from the crowd of loungers and pedestrians who +might otherwise have noticed the fall. The sudden lurch with which he +was thrown forward jerked his pocket-book from the breast-pocket of his +coat, and it fell to the ground a foot or two in front of him. It was +instantly picked up by a loafer, who had been leaning against the pile +of boxes, and who alone had witnessed the accident; he immediately +stooped to help the prostrate man, and finding him pale and still, +shouted for assistance, and was quickly joined by a knot of +"larrikins," who dragged the unconscious man a little further from the +edge of the quay. + +It was not long before a small crowd had gathered round, the man who +had first observed him making a safe escape in the confusion, Cardo's +pocket-book carefully hidden under his tattered coat. + +"Better take him up to Simkins the chemist," said a broad-shouldered +sailor; and, procuring a stretcher, they carried their unconscious +burden to the chemist's shop. + +"Why, let me see," said Mr. Simkins; "surely this is the gentleman who +called here a few minutes ago. I told him to go home, and he said he +would; but I noticed he turned down towards the quay; poor fellow, bad +case, I'm afraid. He said he thought he was sickening for typhoid +fever, and he's about right, I think." + +"What shall we do with him?" said the sailor. "See if you can find a +card or letter in his pockets? Nothing," he added, as together they +searched Cardo's pockets, "not a card, nor a letter, nothing but this +bunch of keys, and some loose gold and silver." + +There was no clue to the stranger's identity, except the marking on his +clothing. + +"Here's C. W. on his handkerchief--Charles Williams, perhaps; well, he +ought to be attended to at once, if he ain't dead already," said +another. + +"Yes, a good thing the hospital is so near," said the chemist. "You +had better leave his money here, and tell Dr. Belton that you have done +so. My brother is his assistant. I daresay we shall hear more about +him from him." + +"Now, then, boys; heave up, gently, that's it," and Cardo was carried +out of the shop to the hospital in an adjoining street. Here, placed +on a bed in one of the long wards, doctors and nurses were soon around +him; but Cardo lay white and still and unconscious. + +One of the bearers had mentioned typhoid fever, and Dr. Belton looked +grave and interested as he applied himself to the examination of the +patient. + +"My brother has been here," said his assistant; "this man had just been +in to his shop, and said he believed he was sickening for typhoid, and +it wasn't ten minutes before he was picked up on the quay." + +"The heat of the sun, I expect, was too much for him under the +circumstances," said Dr. Belton. "A plain case of sunstroke, I think." + +"This money was found in his pocket," said Simkins, handing over five +sovereigns and fifteen shillings in silver; "this bunch of keys, too, +and his watch; but no card or letter to show who he is." + +"Fine young fellow," said Dr. Belton; "splendid physique, but looks +like a bad attack." + +Restoratives were tried, but with no effect; Cardo still lay like a +dead man. + +"Very strange," said the doctor, when next day he found the patient in +the same unconscious condition. "Few constitutions would be able to +fight against two such serious diseases." + +"Sunstroke as well as typhoid?" said Mr. Simkins. + +"Yes, I have no doubt of it. Curious combination of evils." + +"Poor chap!" said Simkins, "no constitution could survive that." + +"Nothing is impossible," said the doctor, "very interesting case; keep +up the strength, nurse." + +Everything was done that was possible for poor Cardo; the nurses were +unremitting in their care and attention, but nothing roused him from +his trance-like stupor. + +During the course of the day, the news of the finding of an unknown man +on the quay reached the Wolfington Hotel, where the waiter, with +another knowing wink and shake of the head, said, "On the razzle-dazzle +again, I expect. Must be the same man." And he proceeded upstairs to +examine the luggage, from which Cardo had removed the labels intending +to redirect them to his uncles house. There was no letter or paper +found to indicate the name of the owner, even the initials C. W. gave +no clue. + +"What was the man's name?" said the waiter to Mr. Simkins, who happened +to call the following morning. + +"Don't know. Charles Williams he is called at the hospital. There was +no clue to his identity, but just the letters C. W. on his linen." + +"Then, no doubt, his luggage is here," said the waiter. "All his +things are marked C. W., and, from your description, it must be the +same man." + +"Well, my brother will speak to Dr. Belton about it, and he will +arrange to have it taken care of; he already has his money and his +watch." + +And so Cardo Wynne slipped out of his place in the outside world and +was soon forgotten by all except those connected with the hospital. + +In three weeks the fever had run its course, and, to the astonishment +of the nurses and doctors, Cardo still lived. + +"Extraordinary vitality! Has he never spoken a word?" + +"Never a sound or a word until he began moaning to-day." + +"Good sign, this moaning. Mind, keep up his strength." + +And gradually, under the constant care of Doctor Belton, who was much +interested in the case, Cardo, or Charles Williams as he was now +called, recovered strength of body; and, to a slight extent, +restoration to consciousness; for though he lay inert and motionless, +his lips moved incessantly in a low muttering or whispering, in which +the nurses in vain endeavoured to find a clue to the mystery of his +illness. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A CLIMAX. + +A bitter north wind, laden with sleet and rain, blew over Abersethin +Bay, tearing the surface into streaks of foam. The fishing boats were +drawn up on the grassy slope which bordered the sandy beach, and +weighted with heavy stones. The cottage doors were all closed, and if +a stray pedestrian was anywhere to be seen, he was hurrying on his way, +his hands in his pockets and his cap tied firmly under his chin. On +the cliffs above, the wind swirled and rushed, blowing the grass all +one way and sweeping over the stunted thorn bushes. In the corners +under the hedges, the cows and horses sheltered in little groups, and +the few gaunt trees which grew on that exposed coast groaned and +creaked as they bent away from the storm. + +At Dinas the wind blew with bitter keenness through every chink and +cranny, roaring and whistling round the bare gray house, rattling the +doors and windows with every angry gust. In the little parlour at the +back of the house it was not heard so plainly. A bright fire burned in +the grate, and the crimson curtains gave it a look of warmth and +comfort which Essec Powell unconsciously enjoyed. He was sitting in +his arm-chair and in his favourite position, listening with great +interest to Valmai, who was reading aloud in Welsh from the +"Mabinogion." The tale was of love and chivalry, and it should have +interested the girl more than it did the old man who listened with such +attention, but her thoughts refused to follow the thread of the story. +She stopped occasionally to listen to the wind as it howled in the +chimney. All through the short, dark afternoon she read with untiring +patience, until at last, when the light was fading, Gwen brought in the +tea and put an end to the reading for a time. + +Valmai had stayed at Fordsea until her uncle had quite recovered from +his accident; and the New Year was well on its way before he had wished +her good-bye at the station. She left him with real sorrow, and the +old feeling of loneliness and homelessness returned to her heart. He +had received her with such warmth, and had so evidently taken her into +his life, that the friendless girl had opened her heart wide to him; +and as his rough, hairy hand rested on the window of the carriage in +which she sat, she pressed her lips upon it in a loving good-bye. +There were tears in the kind old eyes, as he stood waiting for the +train to move. + +"Won't you write, sometimes, uncle?" she asked. + +"Well, Ay won't promise that, indeed, may dear; for there's nothing Ay +hate more than wrayting a letter; but Ay'll come and see you as soon as +you have a house of your own. And don't you forget to look out for a +little cottage for me at Abersethin. Ay'm determined to end my days +near you, and _you know who_." + +"Oh! there's lovely it will be, uncle, to have you to run to whenever +anything vexes me, but nothing ever will vex me then." + +"No, no; of course, may dear, we'll all be jolly together. Good-bay, +good-bay." And the train moved out of the station. + +Two months afterwards we find Valmai at Dinas, and reading to her Uncle +Essec as usual. She busied herself with the preparations for tea, +lighting the lamp and placing the buttered toast in front of the fire +until he should awake from his dreams, and descend to real life. While +the tea was "brewing," she sank back into her chair and fell into a +deep reverie. She was as fair as ever, the golden hair drawn back from +the white, broad brows, but the eyes were full of anxious thought, and +there was a little wistful sadness about the lines of the mouth. She +was paler, and did not move about her duties with the same lightness +and grace which belonged to her when we last saw her. She seemed in no +hurry to disturb her uncle's dozing dreams, until at last Gwen came +hastily in. + +"Well, indeed! What are you two doing here? There's quiet you are!" + +Valmai started, rousing herself and her uncle. + +"Yes. Come to tea, uncle. I was thinking, Gwen." + +"Oh, yes; thinking, thinking," said Gwen, with an insolent sneer. "You +may think and think--you are always thinking now; and what about, I +should like to know?" and, with a shrewd shake of her head, she left +the room. + +A crimson tide overspread Valmai's face and neck, and, fading away, +left her paler than before. She stood for a moment with her hands +clasped, and pressed on her bosom, looking at the door through which +Gwen had just passed, and then seating herself at the table, her eyes +suffused with tears, she began to pour out her uncle's tea. + +"That's a fine piece, Valmai," he said, "how Clwyn went away and never +came back again, till the sea washed him one day at Riana's feet." + +"Yes," said the girl, in a low voice. "Won't you eat your toast, +uncle?" + +"Oh, yes, to be sure," said the old man, beginning on the buttered +toast which she placed before him. + +When tea was over, the "Mabinogion" were brought out again and Valmai +continued to read till her uncle fell asleep. Then leaving him to +Gwen's care, she gladly retired for the night into her own little +bedroom. Here she might think as much as she liked, and well she +availed herself of that privilege. Here she would sit alone for hours +every day, with her head bent over some bit of work, her busy fingers +pleating and stitching, while her thoughts took wing over the leaden +wintry sea before her. Away and away, in search of Cardo. Where was +he? Why did he not write to her? Would he ever come? Would he ever +write? And with weary reiteration she sought out every imaginary +reason for his long silence. + +New hopes, new fears had of late dawned in her heart, at first giving +rise to a full tide of happiness and joy, the joy that comes with the +hope of motherhood--woman's crowning glory; but the joy and happiness +had gradually given place to anxiety and fear, and latterly, since it +had become impossible for her to hide her condition from those around +her, she was filled with trouble and distressing forebodings, Her +sensitive nature received continual wounds. Suspicious looks and +taunting sneers, innuendos and broad suggestions all came to her with +exceeding bitterness. She knew that every day the cloud which hung +over her grew blacker and heavier. Where should she turn when her +uncle should discover her secret? In the solitude of her room she +paced backwards and forwards, wringing her hands. + +"What will I do? what will I do? He said he would return in seven or +eight months--a year at furthest. Will he come? will he ever come?" + +And, gazing out over the stormy sea, she would sob in utter prostration +of grief. Every day she walked to Abersethin and haunted the +post-office. The old postmaster had noticed her wistful looks of +disappointment, and seemed to share her anxiety for the arrival of a +letter--who from, he did not know for certain, but he made a very good +guess, for Valmai's secret was not so much her own only as she imagined +it to be. + +Her frequent meetings with Cardo, though scarcely noticed at the time, +were remembered against her; and her long stay at Fordsea, with the +rumour of Cardo's return there, decided the feeling of suspicion which +had for some time been floating about. There had been a whisper, then +mysterious nods and smiles, and cruel gossip had spread abroad the evil +tidings. + +Valmai bore all in patient silence. Her longing for Cardo's return +amounted almost to an agony, yet the thought of explaining her +position, and clearing her name before the world, never entered her +head, or, if it did, was instantly expelled. No; the whole world might +spurn her; she might die; but to reveal a secret which Cardo had +desired her to keep, seemed to her faithful and guileless nature an +unpardonable breach of honour. + +Gwen, who had not been immaculate herself, was her cruellest enemy, +never losing an opportunity of inflicting a sting upon her helpless +victim, whose presence in the household she had always resented. + +The day following Gwen's sneering remark, Valmai took her daily walk to +Abersethin post-office. + +The old man beamed at her over his counter. + +"Letter come at last, miss," he said. + +And her heart stood still. She was white to the lips as she sat down +on a convenient sack of maize. + +"It is a long walk," said the postmaster, hunting about for the letter. +"Dear me, wherrs I put it?" + +And he looked in a box of bloaters and a basket of eggs. + +"Here it is. I 'member now; I put it safe with the cheese was to go to +Dinas." + +Valmai took it with trembling fingers; it had a deep black edge. + +"It is not for me," she said. + +"Indeed! I was not notice that. I was only see 'Powell, Dinas.' I am +sorry, miss, fach; but you must cheer up," he added, seeing the +gathering tears; "it's never so dark that the Lord can't clear it up." + +"No," said Valmai, rising from her seat. "Thank you; good-bye." + +And, blinded by her tears, she passed out into the driving wind and +sleet. Perhaps the letter bore some news of Cardo! Perhaps bad news, +for it had a black edge! She drew her red cloak tightly around her and +once more bravely faced the buffeting wind which swept the path before +her, and with fitful gusts threatened to lift her off her feet. + +When she reached Dinas, Gwen was already laying the dinner in the +little parlour. + +"You have been a long time," she said. "Where have you been? To the +post again to-day? You never used to go to the post, Valmai." + +The girl did not answer, but sat down breathless on the sofa. + +"Where is uncle? I have a letter for him." And as she spoke her uncle +entered. + +"A letter for me? Well, indeed! What can it be?" + +Essec Powell's correspondence was very limited; he hated writing, and +never answered a letter which could possibly be ignored. He adjusted +his spectacles, and after turning the envelope in every direction, +opened it. + +"Reuben Street, Fordsea," he began. "Oh, dear, dear! here's writing! +Caton pawb! I could write better myself. Read it, Valmai." + +And she obeyed. + + +"REV. ESSEC POWELL, + +"DEAR SIR,--I am grieve more than words can say to tell you this sad +news, and I hope you will prepare for the worst. Becos your brother, +Captain John Powell, No. 8 Reuben Street, Fordsea, was drownded +yesterday in the harbour, and I have loast the best frind ever I had +and ever I will have. Please to tell Miss Powell the sad news, and +please to tell her that Captain Powell was oleways talking great deal +about her, and was missing her very much. Oh, we shall never see +nobody like him again. He went out in a small boat with two frinds to +the steamer Penelope, Captain Parley, and coming back the boat was +capsize and the three gentlemen was upset in the water. One was saved, +but Captain Powell and Mr. Jones was drownded. Please to come and see +about the funeral as soon as you can. + +"I remain in great sorrow, + + "Yours truly, + + "JAMES HARRIS." + + +Valmai's trembling voice failed, and letting the letter drop, she +covered her face with her hands and burst into a flood of tears, as she +realised that her best friend had slipped away from her. In the +trouble and anxiety which had latterly clouded her life, she had often +been comforted by the thought that at all events there was one warm +heart and home open to her, but now all was lost, and her loneliness +and friendlessness pressed heavily upon her. Sob after sob shook her +whole frame. + +Essec Powell picked up the letter, and read it again. + +"Well, well," he said, "to think that John, my brother, should go +before me! Poor fellow, bach! To be taken so suddenly and unprepared +as he was." + +"Oh, no, uncle," said Valmai, between her sobs, "he was not unprepared. +There never was a kinder soul, a more unselfish man, nor a more +generous. Oh, you don't know how good he was to the poor, how kind and +gentle to every one who suffered! Oh, God has him in His safe keeping +somewhere!" + +"Well, well," said Essec Powell, sitting down to his dinner, "we won't +argue about it now, but some day, Valmai, I would like to explain to +you the difference between that natural goodness and the saving grace +which is necessary for salvation. Come to dinner, Valmai. I wonder +how much did he leave? When is the funeral?" he said, addressing Gwen. + +"You've got to go down and settle that," she answered. "Will I tell +Shoni to put the gig ready?" + +"Yes, yes. I better go. I will be back by Sunday." + +"James Harris will help you in every way, uncle, and will settle +everything for you." + +"Oh! very well, very well. Tis a pity about the 'Mabinogion,' too; but +we'll go on with them next week, Valmai." + +Shoni and Gwen continued until bedtime to discuss with unction every +item of information past, possible, or prospective, connected with the +death of the old Captain, while Valmai lay on the old red sofa, and +thought sadly of her loss. + +"There's sudden," said Gwen, "but 'twill be a good thing for the +master, whatever!" + +Valmai lay awake far into the night recalling with tears the kindness +and even tenderness of her old uncle. + +On the following Saturday Essec Powell returned from the funeral, and +as he stepped out of the gig at the door, his face wore an unusual +expression which Valmai noticed at once. He seemed more alive to the +world around him; there was a red spot on each cheek, and he did not +answer his niece's low greeting, but walked into the parlour with a +stamping tread very unlike his usual listless shuffle. + +"Are you tired, uncle?" the girl asked gently. + +"No, I am not tired; but I am hurt and offended with you, Valmai. You +are a sly, ungrateful girl, and it is very hard on me, a poor, +struggling preacher very badly paid, to find that my only brother has +left all his worldly goods to you, who are already well provided for. +What do you think yourself? Wasn't it a shame on you to turn him +against his brother?" + +"Oh, I never did," said Valmai; "I never thought of such a thing! +Dear, dear Uncle John! I didn't want his money, I only wanted his +love." + +"What is the matter?" said Gwen, coming in. + +"Matter enough," said her master, in angry, stammering tones. "John, +my brother, has left all his money to this Judas of a girl! A hundred +and fifty pounds a year, if you please! and only a paltry 100 pounds to +me, and the same to Jim Harris, the sailor. Ach y fi! the greediness +of people is enough to turn on me." + +Between Gwen's exclamations and Essec Powell's angry harping on the +same string, the evening was made miserable to Valmai, and she was glad +enough to escape to her bedroom. + +The next day she awoke with a throbbing headache. + +"You are not going to chapel to-day, I suppose?" said Gwen. + +"No, my head aches too badly. I have never missed before, but to-day I +think I will rest at home." + +"Yes, rest at home, certainly," said Gwen. "You ought to have stopped +at home long ago; in my opinion, it would be more decent." + +Her meaning was too plain, and Valmai's head drooped as she answered: + +"Perhaps it would have been wiser, considering all things." + +"Considering all things, indeed!" sneered Gwen. "Yes, they will turn +you out of the 'Sciet, because when the calf won't go through the +scibor door he has to be pushed out!" And with a toss of her head she +carried the tray away. + +It was a miserable day for Valmai, and not even after events of more +bitterness were able to efface it from her memory. + +She roamed about the house restlessly, and round the garden, which was +beginning to show signs of the budding life which had slept through the +storms and snows of winter. Already in a sheltered corner she detected +the scent of violets, an early daffodil nodded at her, a bee hummed +noisily, and a sweet spring breeze swept over the garden. What +memories it awoke within her! How long ago it seemed since she and +Cardo had roamed together by the Berwen! Years and years ago, surely! +Her reverie was disturbed by Shoni, who, coming back early from chapel, +had found his way into the garden. + +"You wass quite right not to go to chapel this morning," he said. +"Don't go to-night again, neither!" + +"No," said Valmai, "I won't. But why, Shoni?" + +"Why?" he said, "because you better not. John Jones and William +Hughes, the deacons, is bin speaking to master about you, and next week +is the 'Sciet,[1] and you will be turn out." + +Valmai turned a shade paler; she knew the disgrace this excommunication +implied; but she only turned with a sigh towards the house, Shoni +marching before her with the air of a man who felt he had performed a +disagreeable duty. Essec Powell had stopped to dine with a farmer +living near the chapel, and did not return home until near tea-time. +Then burst upon the girl the storm she had so long dreaded; her uncle's +anger had already been roused by his brother's "will," and his feelings +of greed and spite had been augmented by the information imparted to +him by his deacons. + +"How dare you?" he said. His eyes flashed with anger, and his voice +trembled with the intensity of his fury. + +Valmai, who was arranging something on the tea-table, sank down on a +chair beside it; and Gwen, carrying a slice of toast on a fork, came in +to listen. To hear her master speak in such excited tones was an event +so unusual as to cause her not only astonishment but pleasure. + +Shoni, too, was attracted by the loud tones, and stood blocking up the +doorway. + +Valmai flung her arms on the table, and leant her head upon them, +sobbing quietly. + +"Are you not ashamed of yourself?" thundered the old man. "Sitting at +my table, sleeping under my roof, and attending my chapel--and all the +time to be the vile thing that you are! Dear Uncle John, indeed! what +would your dear Uncle John say of you now? You fooled him as you have +fooled me. Do you think I can bear you any longer in the house with +me?" + +There was no answer from Valmai, and the old man, angered by her +silence, clutched her by the arm and shook her violently. + +"Stop there!" said Shoni, taking a step forward, and thrusting his +brawny arm protectingly over the girl's bent head. "Stop there! Use +as many bad words as you like, Essec Powell, but if you dare to touch +her with a finger, I'll show you who is the real master here." + +"She is a deceitful creature, and has brought shame and dishonour on my +name!" stammered the old man. "Am I, a minister of religion, any +longer to harbour in my house such a huzzy? _No_; out you go, madam! +Not another night under my roof!" + +"Will you send her out at this late hour?" said Shoni. "Where is she +to go?" + +"I don't care where she goes! She has plenty of money--money that +ought to belong to me. Let her go where she likes, and let her reap +the harvest that her conduct deserves. Remember, when I come back from +chapel to-night I will expect the house to be cleared of you." + +Valmai rose wearily from the table, and went up the stairs to her own +room, where she hastily gathered a few things together into a light +basket, her heavier things she had packed some time before in readiness +for some such sudden departure as this. + +Meanwhile, in the parlour below the sturdy Shoni faced his irate master. + +"Man," he said, "are you not ashamed of yourself?" + +"How dare you speak to me in that tone?" said the old man. "Because I +owe you two or three hundred pounds you forget your position here." + +"No," said Shoni, "I don't forget, and I'll remind you sooner than you +think if you don't behave yourself! Man! you haven't learnt the ABC +of religion, though you are a 'preacher.' Christ never taught you that +way of treating a fallen woman. Shame upon you! And your own +brother's child! But I'll see she's taken care of, poor thing! And +the villain who has brought this misery upon her shall feel the weight +of this fist if ever he returns to this country; but he won't; he has +got safe away, and she has to bear the shame, poor thing! Wait till I +tell the 'Vicare du' what I think of his precious son." + +"The 'Vicare du'?" said the old man, turning white with rage. "Do you +mean to say that his son has been the cause of this disgrace? I'll +thrash her within an inch of her life!" and he made a rush towards the +door. + +"Sit down," said Shoni, taking him by the arm and pushing him back into +his easy-chair, "sit down, and calm yourself, before you stand up and +preach and pray for other people. Tis for yourself you ought to pray." + +"True, Shoni, true. I am a miserable sinner like the rest, but don't +let me see that girl again." + +"Put her out of your thoughts," said Shoni; "I'll see to her." And as +Valmai came silently down the stairs, he opened the front door for her, +and quietly took her basket from her. + +"Well, howyr bach!" said Gwen, looking after them, "there's attentions! +We'd better all walk in the wrong path!" and she banged the door +spitefully, and returned to the parlour to arrange her master's tea. + +"And, now, where are you going to, my dear?" said Shoni kindly. "Will +you come to Abersethin? Jane, my sister, will give you lodgings; she +is keeping a shop there." + +"No, no, Shoni," said the girl, "you are kind, indeed, and I will never +forget your kindness; but I will go to Nance, on the island; she will +take me in, I know." + +"Will she?" said Shoni. "Then you could not go to a better place. +'Tis such lonesome place, the pipple will forget you there." + +"Oh, I hope so," said Valmai; "that is all I desire." + +"The tide will be down. We can get there easy, only 'tis very cold for +you." + +"No, I like the fresh night-wind." + +"Well, my dear," said Shoni, "I daresay your uncle will be shamed of +himself to-morrow, and will be wanting you to kom back. I will bring +the gig for you; 'tis a long walk." + +"No, never, Shoni; I will never go back there again, so don't bring the +gig for me; but if you will kindly send my big box to the Rock Bridge, +I will send somebody across for it." + +"'S' no need for you to do that. I will take it down to the shore on +the whilbare and row it over in Simon Lewis's boat. I will kom before +dawn tomorrow, then no one will know where you are. I'll put it out on +the rocks before Nance's house and carry it up to her door." + +"Thank you, thank you, Shoni; but wouldn't tonight be better?" + +"Oh, no; Sunday to-night," said Shoni, in quite another tone. + +He waited until he saw Nance's door opened in response to Valmai's +timid knock, and then made his way back over the Rock Bridge at once +before the tide turned. + +When Nance opened her door and saw the figure of a woman standing +there, she was at first surprised, for the dress struck her at once as +not being that of a peasant. + +"Nance, fach! it is I!" said Valmai. "You will let me in?" + +"Let you in! yes, indeed. Haven't I been longing to see you all day! +Come in, my child, from this bitter wind; come in and get warm. I see +you have brought your basket, that means you are going to stay the +night. Right glad I am. You will have the little bed in the corner. +Keep your red cloak on, dear little heart, because the wind is blowing +in cold here at nights, and you have been used to warm rooms. I am +well used to cold, and sickness, and discomfort." + +"But, Nance--" and then the terrible revelation had to be made, the +truth had to be told, and then the loving arms were clasped round the +sorrowful girl, and words of comfort and hope were whispered into her +ear. No reproaches, no cruel taunts here; nothing but the warmth of +human sympathy, and the loving forgiveness of a tender pure woman. + +In the early dawn, while Valmai still slept, Shoni's "yo-hoy!" was +heard from the rocks, through which he was guiding his boat. Nance +opened her door, and, in the gray of the morning, the "big box" was +brought in and safely deposited in the tiny bedroom, which it nearly +filled. + +"Good-bye," said Shoni. "Take care of her, and if she wants anything +get it for her, and remember I will pay you." And he rowed away, and +was busily ploughing when Gwen went out to milk the cows in the morning. + +"Where is she gone?" she asked. "That shameful girl." + +"Gone away," said Shoni shortly, and Gwen knew it was useless trying to +get anything more out of him. + +Thus Valmai slipped quietly out of her old life, though for some time +she was the subject of much gossip in the neighbourhood. + +It was not long before Shoni found an opportunity of speaking to the +Vicar, and as he saw the effect of his tidings upon the cold, hard man, +a feeling of pity stirred within him. + +"Is this all news to you?" he said. "Didn't you know that your son was +haunting the footsteps of this innocent girl, to bring her to ruin?" + +"Had I known," said the Vicar, in a stern voice, "that my son held any +communication with the Methodist preacher's family, however innocent it +might be, I would have closed my doors against him." + +"Where is he?" asked Shoni, clenching his fist. + +"I don't know," said the Vicar, turning away. + +Shoni called after him, "When he comes back he'll feel the weight of +this fist, if it's twenty years to come." + + + +[1] Society meeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"THE BABIES' CORNER." + +A glorious summer was once more brooding over sea and land, when one +morning, in Nance's cottage, a feeble wail was heard; a sound which +brought a flood of happiness to Valmai, for nothing could wholly crush +the joyous welcome of a mother's heart. For a little while the past +months of sorrow and weariness were forgotten. The bitter +disappointment caused by Cardo's silence, lying deep below the surface, +was of so mysterious a nature that she scarcely found words to express +it even to herself. That he was false, that he had forgotten her, +never entered her mind. Some dire misfortune had befallen him; some +cruel fate detained him. Was it sickness? Was it death? There was +nothing for her but to bear and to wait; and God had sent this tiny +messenger of love to help and comfort her in her weary waiting. She +still believed that Cardo would return; he had promised, and if he were +living he would keep his promise--of this she felt certain. Secure +from the sneers and scornful glances of the world, alone in Nance's +cottage, her heart awoke afresh to the interests of life. Her baby boy +was bright and strong, and she watched with delight his growing +likeness to Cardo; the black hair, the black eyes, and the curve on the +rosebud mouth, which reminded her so much of his smile. Nance wondered +much at the girl's cheerfulness, and sometimes felt it her duty to +remind her, by look or tone, of the sorrow connected with her child's +birth. + +"Look at him, Nance. See these lovely little feet, and there's strong +he is!" + +"Yes, druan bach,[1] he is a beautiful boy, indeed," she would answer +with a sigh, drawing her wrinkled finger over the fresh soft cheek. + +Valmai began to chafe at the want of brightness which surrounded her +little one's life. She was proud of him, and wished to take him into +the village. + +"No, my child," said Nance gently, "you had better not." + +"Why not?" was on Valmai's lips, but she hesitated. A deep blush +crimsoned her face. "My boy has nothing to be ashamed of," she said, +with a proud toss of her head. + +"When is he to be christened?" was Nance's next question. + +"September." + +"September!" gasped the old woman, "he will be three months old; and +what if anything should happen to him before then?" + +"Nothing _shall_ happen to him," said Valmai, folding him to her heart. +"My life and my body are larger than his, and they will both have to go +before any harm reaches him." + +"There's a foolish thing to say," said Nance, "and I wonder at you, +merch i. You ought to know by this time that we are clay in the hands +of the Potter. Little heart, he ought to be christened, and have a +name of his own." + +"He can be 'Baby' till September, and then he will be christened." + +"And why, September, child?" + +Here Valmai took refuge in that silence which had been her only +resource since Cardo's departure. She would be perfectly silent. She +would make no answer to inquiries or taunts, but would wait patiently +until he returned. September! What glowing pictures of happiness the +word brought before her mind's eye. Once more to stroll with Cardo by +Berwen banks! Once more to linger in the sunshine, and rest in the +shade; to listen to the Berwen's prattling, to the whispering of the +sea-breeze. Such happiness, she thought, was all in store for her when +Cardo came home in September; and the words, "When Cardo comes home in +September," rang in her ears, and filled her heart and soul. Yes, the +long weary months of waiting, the sorrow and the pain, the cruel words, +and the sneering glances, were all coming to an end. She had kept her +promise, and had never spoken a word to implicate Cardo, or to suggest +that the bond of marriage had united them. He would come home, at +latest in a year, and remove every sorrow; and life would be one long +shining path of happiness from youth to age. + +The light returned to her eyes, and the rose to her cheek; her step was +once more light and springy, as she paced the lonely shore, dressed in +her favourite white serge, and carrying her little white-robed baby in +her arms. She was an object of great interest to the inhabitants of +the fishing village on the other side of the island, and they often +found an excuse (more especially the young sailor lads) to pass by the +cottage, and to stop at the open door for a drink of water or a chat +with Nance. They were as loud in their condemnation of her faithless +lover as in admiration of her beauty and pleasant manners. + +Once more life seemed full of promise and hope for her, until one day +when the bay was glistening in the sunshine, and the sea-gulls, like +flecks of snow, flew about the rocks; the soft waves plashing gently +between the boulders, a little cloud arose on her horizon. Her baby +was fretful and feverish, and Nance had roused her fears. + +"He is too fat, merch i," she said, "and if he had any childish illness +it would go hard with him." + +Valmai had taken fright at once. + +"Can you take care of him, Nance, while I go to Abersethin and fetch +Dr. Hughes?" she asked. + +"Yes, but don't be frightened, cariad; I daresay he will laugh at us, +and say there is nothing the matter with the child." + +"Being laughed at does not hurt one," said Valmai, as she tied on her +hat. "I will bring him back with me if possible." + +She took a long look at the baby, who lay with flushed face on Nance's +knees, and ran with all speed across the Rock-Bridge, from which the +tide was just receding, up the straggling street of Abersethin, and +through the shady lane, which led to the doctor's house. + +There was great peering and peeping from the kitchen window, as Valmai +made her progress between the heaps of straw in the farm-yard to the +back door, which stood open. The doctor's wife, who had her arms up to +her elbows in curds and whey, looked up from her cheese-tub as she +appeared at the door. + +"Dear me, Miss Powell! Well, indeed, what's the matter?" + +"Oh, it's my baby, Mrs. Hughes! Can Dr. Hughes come with me at once?" + +"There's a pity, now," said Mrs. Hughes; "he is gone to Brynderyn. Mr. +Wynne is not well. Grieving, they say, about his son." + +Valmai blushed, and Mrs. Hughes was pleased with her success. + +"When will he be back, d' you think?" + +"Not till evening, I'm afraid. But there's Mr. Francis, the +assistant--shall I call him? he is very clever with children. Here he +is. Will you go with Miss Powell, to see--h'm--a baby which she is +taking a great interest in on Ynysoer?" + +"Yes, certainly," said the young assistant, colouring, for he had heard +Valmai's story, and never having seen her, was now rather bewildered by +her beauty, and the awkwardness of the situation. + +"Oh, thank you; can you come at once?" said Valmai. + +"At once," said the young man. "Is the child very ill?" + +"Indeed, I hope not," said Valmai; "he is very flushed and restless." + +"Whose child is it?" + +"Good-bye, Mrs. Hughes. It is mine," she added, in a clear voice, as +they left the kitchen door together. + +"Wel, anwl, anwl! there's impidence," said one of the servants, looking +after them. "It is mine! As bold as brass. Well, indeed!" + +"Yes, I must say," said her mistress, with a sniff, "she might show a +little more shamefacedness about it." + +"There's a beauty, she is," said Will the cowman, coming in. + +"Beauty, indeed!" said the girl. "A pink and white face like a doll!" + +"Her beauty has not done her much good, whatever," said Mrs. Hughes, as +she finished her curds and dried her arms. + +Meanwhile Valmai and the doctor were walking rapidly down the lane to +the shore. + +"Dan, will you take us across?" said Valmai to a man who stood leaning +against the corner of the Ship Inn. + +"With every pleasure, miss fach; you've been out early," he said, as he +pushed out his boat, and, seeing the doctor--"if you please, miss, I +hope there's nobody ill at Nance's?" + +"Yes," said Valmai, hesitating, "the little one is ill." + +She did not say, "my baby," as she had done at the doctor's. At the +first contact with the world beyond Ynysoer, where she had been so long +secluded and sheltered, a feeling of nervous shyness began to +over-shadow her. + +"Dear, dear!" was all Dan's answer, + +Once on the island, Mr. Francis found it difficult to keep up with +Valmai's hurrying steps. He was full of pity for the beautiful girl +beside him, so young and so friendless, and was anxious to serve her, +and to cure her child if possible. + +As they entered the cottage together, Nance endeavoured gently to +prevent Valmai's approaching the child. + +"Not you, my dear, not you; let the doctor see him." + +Mr. Francis was already attending to the little sufferer. + +"No," he said, looking backwards, "not you, Miss Powell; let me manage +him." + +Valmai turned white to the lips, and, gently putting the old woman +aside, took her place at the bedside, where a pitiful sight met her +eyes. Her little one lay in the terrible throes of "convulsions," and +again the doctor tried to banish Valmai from the scene. + +"Let me be," she said, in a quiet voice, which astonished the young +man. "Let me be; I am used to trouble." And passing her arm under the +little struggling frame, she supported it until the last gasp put an +end to its sufferings. + +Mr. Francis took the child into his own arms and laid it on the bed, +turning his attention to Valmai, who had fallen fainting on the floor. + +"Poor thing! poor thing!" said the tender-hearted young man. "It is a +pity she cannot remain unconscious." + +But he applied the usual restoratives, and she soon opened her eyes, +while Nance straightened the folds of the little night-gown with loving +fingers, tears coursing each other down her wrinkled face. + +"Oh, dear heart! how will she bear it?" + +Mr. Francis was silently bathing the girl's forehead. + +"You are better now?" he asked. + +"Yes," she said; "thank you. You have been very kind, but do not +trouble to stay longer; I am quite well," and she slowly rose from the +settle. + +"I will go now," said the young man. "You would like to be alone, but +I will call in the afternoon. You will want someone to--to--make +arrangements for you." + +"Arrangements? To have my little one buried? Yes, yes, of course. I +shall be thankful, indeed." + +"Here, or at Penderin?" + +"Oh, here--in the 'rock' churchyard." + +"I will go at once," and he went out, gently closing the door upon the +two women in their sorrow. + +In the afternoon he came again, and, being a man of very warm feelings, +dreaded the scene of a woman's tears and sobs, though he longed to +soothe and comfort the girl who so much interested him. But there were +no tears or wailings awaiting him. + +Valmai sat in the low rush chair in stony despair, her hands clasped on +her lap, her face white as her dress, her blue eyes dry, and with a +mute, inquiring gaze in them, as though she looked around for an +explanation of this fresh misery. + +He did not tell her more than was necessary of his interview with the +Vicar. The child was supposed to be illegitimate as well as +unbaptised, and could not, therefore, be allowed to sleep his last +sleep in the company of the baptised saints. + +Old Shon, the sexton, was already digging the little grave in a corner +of the churchyard relegated to such unconsidered and unwelcomed beings +as this. However, it was a sunny corner, sheltered from the sea-wind, +and the docks and nettles grew luxuriantly there. + +Such dry-eyed, quiet grief amongst the emotional Welsh was new to the +doctor, and he knew that if tears did not come to her relief her health +would suffer, so he gently tried to make her talk of her little one. + +"I saw you had tried a hot bath, or I would have recommended it," he +said. + +"Yes, Nance had." + +"I truly sympathise with you; he was a fine child." + +"Yes, he is a beautiful child," said Valmai. + +"I am sorry to wound your feelings, but what day would you wish him to +be buried?" + +"Oh, any day; it makes no difference now." + +"To-day is Friday. Shall we say Monday, then?" + +"Yes, Monday will do. At what time?" said Valmai. + +"At four o'clock." + +Nance was crying silently. + +"Mrs. Hughes wants to know if you will come and stay with her till +after Monday. I have my gig at Abersethin, and can row you over now." + +Valmai smiled, and the sadness of that smile remained in Mr. Francis' +memory. + +"No," she said, shaking her head slowly, "I will not leave my baby +until he is buried, but thank her for me, and thank you, oh, so much. +I did not know there was so much kindness left in the world." + +As she spoke the tears gathered in her eyes, and, throwing her arms +over the feet of the little dead child, she rested her head upon them, +and broke into long, deep sobs. + +Mr. Francis, more content, went quietly out of the house, and did not +see Valmai again until on Monday he met the funeral in the churchyard. +Valmai, to the horror of Nance and her friends, wore her usual white +dress. She had a bunch of white jessamine in her hand, and, as the +little coffin disappeared from sight, she showered the flowers upon it. +Nance was too infirm to accompany her, so that she stood alone beside +the grave, although surrounded by the fisher folk of the island. She +sobbed bitterly as she heard the heavy clods fall on the coffin, and +when at last everything was over, and it was time to move away, she +looked round as if for a friend; and Mr. Francis, unable to resist the +pleading look, pushed his way towards her, and, quietly drawing her arm +within his own, led her homewards down the grassy slope to the shore, +over the rough, uneven sand, and in at the humble cottage door. Nance +received her with open arms, into which Valmai sank with a passionate +burst of tears, during which Mr. Francis went out unnoticed. + + + +[1] Poor little fellow. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +UNREST. + +The summer months had passed away, and September had come and gone, and +yet Cardo had not arrived. Valmai had trusted with such unswerving +faith that in September all her troubles would be over--that Cardo +would come to clear her name, and to reinstate her in the good opinion +of all her acquaintances; but as the month drew to its close, and +October's mellow tints began to fall on all the country-side, her heart +sank within her, and she realised that she was alone in the world, with +no friend but Nance to whom to turn for advice or sympathy. + +A restless feeling awoke in her heart--a longing to be away from the +place where every scene reminded her of her past happiness and her +present sorrow. Every day she visited the little grave in the +churchyard, and soon that corner of the burying-ground, which had once +been the most neglected, became the neatest and most carefully tended. +For her own child's sake, all the other nameless graves had become +sacred to Valmai; she weeded and trimmed them until the old sexton was +proud of what he called the "babies' corner." A little white cross +stood at the head of the tiny grave in which her child lay, with the +words engraved upon it, "In memory of Robert Powell ----." A space was +left at the end of the line for another name to be added when Cardo +came home, and the words, "Born June the 30th; died August the 30th," +finished the sad and simple story. Nance, too, who seemed to have +revived a good deal latterly, often brought her knitting to the sunny +corner, and Valmai felt she could safely leave her grassy garden to the +care of her old friend. + +"You are better, Nance," she said one day, when she had been sitting +long on the rocks gazing out to sea, in one of those deep reveries so +frequent with her now, "and if I paid Peggi 'Bullet' for living with +you and attending to you, would you mind my going away? I feel I +cannot rest any longer here; I must get something to do--something to +fill my empty hands and my empty heart." + +"No, calon fach," said Nance the unselfish, "I will not mind at all, I +am thinking myself that it is not good for you to stay here brooding +over your sorrow. Peggi 'Bullet' and I have been like sisters since +the time when we were girls, and harvested together, and went together +to gather wool on the sheep mountains. You have made me so rich, too, +my dear, that I shall be quite comfortable; but you will come and see +me again before very long, if I live?" + +"Oh, yes, Nance. People who have asthma often live to be very old. +You know that, wherever I am, I will be continually thinking of you, +and of the little green corner up there in the rock churchyard; and I +will come back sometimes to see you." + +"But where will you go, my dear?" + +"To my sister. Ever since this trouble has come upon me I have longed +for a sister's love, and now I think I will go to her I will tell her +all my troubles, and ask her to help me to find employment." + +"Perhaps she has never heard of you--what do I know?--and perhaps she +will spurn you when she hears your story. If she does, come back to +old Nance, my dear; her arms will always be open to receive you. Yes, +begin the world again. Caton pawb! you are only twenty now You have +your life before you; you may marry, child, in spite of all that has +happened." + +"_Nance!_" said Valmai, and the depth of reproach and even injury in +her voice made plain to Nance that she must never suggest such a thing +again. + +"Don't be angry with me, my dear!" + +"Angry with you! No, I am only thinking how little you know--how +little you know. But where shall I find my sister? You said once you +had her address, where is it?" + +"Oh, anwl! I don't know. Somewhere in the loft--" and Nance looked up +at the brown rafters. "I haven't seen it for twenty years, but it's +sure to be there, I remember, then somebody wrote it out for me, and I +tied it up with a packet of other papers. They are in an old teapot on +the top of the wall under the thatch, just there, my child, over the +door. You must get the ladder and go up. It is many a long year since +I have climbed up there." + +But Valmai's agile limbs found no great difficulty in reaching the +brown boards which lay loosely across the rafters. + +"Now, straight along, my dear." + +"It is very dark, but I have found it," and coming down the ladder +backwards, she placed the cracked and dust-begrimed teapot on the +table. "Oh, how brown and faded the papers are! Nance, what is this? +I do believe it is your marriage certificate!" + +"Very likely, my dear, and you will find the bill for my husband's +funeral, too; and a pattern of my scarlet 'mantell,' the one I nursed +my children in; oh! I thought a lot of that, and here it is still, you +see, folded over my shoulders." + +"What is this? You had bad ink, but I think it must be the address. +Let me see, here is 'Mrs. Besborough Power.'" + +"I knew it was a hard, long name," said the old woman. + +"'Carne,' but the last word, oh, Nance, what is it? It begins with M +o, and ends with r e--r e is the end of the shire, of course. +Merionithshire? No, it is M o, so must be Monmouthshire or +Montgomeryshire, stay, there is a t in the middle. Mrs. Besborough +Power, Carne--I will try Carne anyway," and next day she wrote to her +sister addressing the letter: + +Miss Gwladys Powell, + c/o Mrs. Besborough Power, + Carne, + Montgomeryshire. + + +In a few days her letter was returned. + +"Not known," said Valmai; "then we have not read the address aright. I +will go myself, Nance. I will go next week." And the following days +were occupied with arrangements for her departure and Nance's comfort +during her absence. + +On one of these latter days Mr. Francis came in. + +"I am glad you have come to-day," said Valmai, holding out her hand. +"I wanted to thank you before I left for all your kindness to me, and +to ask you to continue to see Nance sometimes." + +"Are you going to leave us, then?" said the young man, in a +disappointed tone. + +He had felt deeply interested in the girl who bore her desertion and +sorrow with such patience, and had unconsciously been looking forward +to a continuance of the friendship begun between them. + +"You are not going away for long, I hope?" + +"Yes, for long; possibly for ever, except for a hasty visit to Nance +sometimes I shall trust her to you, Mr. Francis, and I hope you will +be as kind to her as you have been to me." + +"Certainly I will; but do not talk of kindness. It has been a great +privilege to me, and a pleasure to know you, and I hope in the future +if I can be of any service to you, you will let me know." + +Valmai took out her purse nervously, she hesitated to speak of +remuneration to this kind friend. + +"You are not going to wound me," he said, gently laying his hand on her +purse, "by offering to pay me?" + +"No, no," said Valmai; "only for the future, for your care of Nance." + +"There will be nothing much to do for her, I think; just a call in +passing and a few cheering words, and _they_ don't cost much." And he +rose to go. + +"Good-bye, then," said Valmai. "I shall never forget your kindness." + +"Good-bye," said Mr. Francis, holding her hand for a moment. He seemed +about to say something more, but changed his mind, and abruptly left +the house. + +The next day was Valmai's last in Nance's cottage. She rose early, +and, after her simple breakfast, put on her white hat, and, kissing the +old woman tenderly, said: + +"I am going out for a few hours; there are one or two people I want to +see--Peggi Bullet, and Shon, the sexton. Then I am going to cross the +Rock Bridge." + +She did not tell Nance that her chief object was to pay a last visit to +her old haunts by the Berwen. After making all arrangements with Peggi +Bullet and Shon, she took her way across the bridge. The year that had +passed since Cardo had left her, with its varied experiences and +trials, the bitter sense of loneliness and desertion, the pains and the +delights of motherhood, the desolation and sorrow of bereavement, all +had worked a change in the simple girl's character, that now surprised +even herself, and she thankfully realised that her troubles had at all +events generated a strength which enabled her to act for herself and +attend to matters of business which had before been unapproachable +mysteries to her. She shrank a little as she met the bold, admiring +gaze of a knot of sailors, who stood at the door of the Ship Inn, where +she explained to the buxom landlady that she wanted the car to meet her +at the Rock Bridge on the following morning at ten. + +"Yes, miss fach, and Jackie will drive you safe; but, indeed, there's +long time since we saw you! You never come to see us now, and there's +many warm hearts on this side the Rock Bridge as on the island, I can +tell you." + +"Yes, indeed, I know, and I thank you all," said Valmai, as she went +out again into the sunshine. + +The sailors were gone now, and she was free to make her way over the +golden sands so often trodden by her and Cardo. + +Every boulder, every sandy nook, every wave that broke, brought its own +sad memories. + +She turned up the path by the Berwen, which led to the old church, +carefully avoiding even a glance at the tangled path on the other side +of the river, which she and Cardo had made their own. + +Pale and dry-eyed, she pressed her hands on her bosom as if to still +the aching throbbing within. Every step that brought her nearer to the +old church increased the dull aching that weighed her down; but still +she pressed on, longing, yet dreading, to see the spot on which she and +Cardo had made their vows together on that sunny morning which seemed +so long ago. + +As she entered the porch, she disturbed the white owl, who emerged from +the ivy with a flap of her great wings, and sailed across the Berwen. + +The worm-eaten door of the church stood wide open. Entering the aisle +with light footsteps, she approached the altar rails. The light was +very dim in the chancel, as every year the ivy grew thicker over the +windows. Surely in that dark corner within the rails some black object +stood, something blacker and darker than the shadow itself, and she +stood still for a moment, startled. Yes, there was a sound of heavy +breathing and the rustling of paper. She drew nearer, even close to +the altar rails, and, as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light, +she saw a man, who stooped over a musty, tattered book. + +The sound of her footstep attracted his attention, and as he rose from +his stooping position, Valmai recognised the marble face and the black +eyebrows of the "Vicar du." + +He was looking at one of the leaves in the old registry book, and for a +moment as he raised his eyes to the silent, white figure before the +altar, he took her for a ghostly visitant; but Valmai, with a sudden +inrush of recognition, clasped her hands, a faint exclamation escaped +her lips, and the "Vicare du" knew it was no spirit who stood trembling +before him. For a moment both were speechless--then pointing to the +page before him, he asked in a husky voice, "What is the meaning of +this?" and from beginning to end he read, with this strange hoarseness +in his voice, the entry of his son's marriage to Valmai. Not a word +escaped him, not even the date, nor the names of the witnesses. Then +he turned his black eyes upon her once more, and repeated his question. + +"What is the meaning of this? I have heard of your shame, of your +dishonour--of the disgraceful way in which you have entrapped my poor +boy. But what is this farce enacted here? How dare you enter the +House of God and forge this ridiculous statement? Where is my son, +whom you have lured to destruction?" + +Valmai was shaken like a reed by this sudden and unexpected meeting, +and the outburst of feeling exhibited by the "Vicare du" awoke in her +own heart such a tumult of doubt and suspense, that she could no longer +restrain the tears which for days she had kept in check; long, silent +sobs heaved her bosom, she covered her face with her hands, and the +tears trickled through her fingers, but she made no answer. + +"Speak, girl," said the Vicar, "have you nothing to say for yourself? +no excuse to make for your conduct? My son and I lived in perfect +happiness together until you came to this neighbourhood; now you have +led a young man on to his ruin and broken the heart of an old man--for +this," he said, tapping the register with a trembling finger, "this is +a lie--a forgery--a foolish piece of deceit, not worth the paper on +which it is written!" + +Still Valmai spoke not a word. Oh, what happiness it would have been +to throw herself at the old man's feet, and to confess everything, +here, where Cardo and she had plighted their troth--to have told him of +her ignorance of his fate, of her distracted longing for his return. +Surely, surely he would have forgiven her! She was torn with +conflicting feelings. But, no! Had she borne the contempt and scorn +of all her acquaintances and friends to break down now, and disclose +her secret to the man of all others from whom Cardo desired to keep the +knowledge of it? No, she would die rather than divulge it--and with an +earnest prayer for strength she remained silent, for in silence alone +she had taken refuge since her troubles had come upon her. + +"Speak, girl, I implore you! Tell me, is this true?" His voice +trembled, and he came a step nearer to her. "Tell me that it is true, +and I will forgive you and him, for I shall then have a hope that his +love for you will bring him home, though he has no love for me." And +completely overcome by his feeling's he dropped on his knees by the +table, and, leaning his head on his arms, broke into a torrent of +tears. "Oh, Cardo, Cardo, my boy!" he cried. "Come back to me." + +There was no answer from Valmai, and when he raised his head again she +was gone. At the words, "Oh! Cardo, Cardo," she had fled down the +aisle, out into the golden sunshine, down the rugged path to the shore, +where behind a huge boulder she flung herself down on the sands, crying +out in a long pent-up agony of tears, "Oh Cardo, Cardo, come back!" + +The morning hours passed on, and noontide drew near. + +The "Vicare du" emerged from the church porch, pale and calm as usual. +He looked at his watch as he came out into the sunshine, and followed +the same path over which Valmai had sped an hour before. He had +replaced the old registry book in the rusty, iron chest, had closed the +door methodically, and when he had disappeared through the trees the +white owl had flapped back into the tower, and the dimly-lighted church +which had been the scene of such stormy human feelings was once more +silent and deserted. + +At noontide, too, Valmai had regained her composure, and had risen from +her attitude of despair with a pale face and eyes which still showed +traces of their storm of tears. + +Next day she bade her faithful Nance good-bye, leaving with her a +promise to write as soon as she was settled in some place that she +could call "home," and to return for a few days in the spring. + +Arrived at Caer Madoc, she took her place in the coach in which she had +journeyed a year before; and reaching the station at Blaennos, soon +arrived at Fordsea. Leaving her luggage at the station, she made her +way into the well-remembered town. There was the white-flashing +harbour, here was the crooked Reuben Street, and here the dear little +house once occupied by her uncle, where she and Cardo had spent their +happy honeymoon. Yes, she remembered it all; but she held her head up +bravely, and crushed down every tender memory, hardening her heart, and +setting herself to attend to the business of the hour. + +In the broad High Street she easily found the shining brass plate which +bore the words, "Mr. William Lloyd, Solicitor," and she entered the +office with as business-like an air as she could assume. + +"Can I see Mr. William Lloyd himself?" + +"You see him, madam; I am he," said a middle-aged, pleasant-faced man, +who met her in the doorway. "I was just going out, but if your +business is not likely to keep us long--" + +"I don't think so," said Valmai. "I am the niece of Captain Powell, +who used to live in Reuben Street. He once told me you were his +lawyer, and I have heard that in his will he has left me some money." + +"Bless me! You are his niece Valmai! Of course. I have been +wondering when you would turn up, and was really beginning to think I +must advertise for you. I have written to your uncle at Abersethin, +but have had no reply." + +"He never writes if he can help it. I am very ignorant of money +matters and business ways," said Valmai, as Mr. Lloyd handed her a +chair, "but would like to know in plain words how much my dear uncle +has left me, as I am leaving this part of the country to-morrow." + +"Not going out of England, I suppose?" said the lawyer. + +"No, oh no; not even out of Wales." + +"Well, I have your uncle's will here, and I can read it to you at once." + +"No, indeed," said Valmai, "I don't think I want to hear it read. I +know from dear Uncle John's perfect faith in you that I can trust you. +If you will only tell me plainly how much money I can have now, and how +I am to receive it in the future, I shall be quite satisfied; and if I +owe you anything you can deduct it, please." + +Mr. Lloyd smiled and shook his head at this unbusiness-like proposal. + +"Well," he said, "young ladies can't be expected to know much of +business ways, but I should certainly like to go into the accounts with +you at the first opportunity. He has left you the bulk of his +property, the income of which is about 150 pounds a year; and, after +deducting the legacies and my costs and all expenses, I shall have in +hand about 300 pounds for you." + +"Three hundred pounds," said Valmai, "what a lot of money! Could you +take care of it for me, Mr. Lloyd? and let me send to you for it when I +want it," she added nervously. + +"Certainly, my dear young lady, and I will send you a statement of +accounts as soon as possible." + +After a few more business arrangements Valmai left the office, feeling +she had quite acted up to her new _role_ of an independent woman of +business. + +Making her way to a quiet hotel, the landlord of which she remembered +had been an intimate acquaintance of her uncle's, she procured a bed +there for the night, and in the morning arose with the feeling that the +dear old past was dead, and that a new and unlovely life lay before her. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE SISTERS. + +In the spacious, handsomely-furnished drawing-room of a large +country-house, two ladies sat on a quiet evening in autumn. The large +bay window looked out over extensive grounds to the blue hills beyond. +In the pale evening sky the crescent moon hung like a silver boat, the +trees in the quiet air looked black as if drawn in ink. In the grate a +large wood fire crackled, which the elder lady seemed much to enjoy as +she rubbed her hands one over another on her knee, and spoke in a low, +purring tone. The younger occupant of the room was a girl about twenty +years of age; she was fair and fragile-looking compared with her portly +companion, who was rather florid in complexion. + +"Put your work away, my dear," said the elder lady; "it is getting too +dark for you to see." + +"This is the last petal, auntie," said the girl, still bending her head +with its wealth of golden hair over her work. At last with a satisfied +"There!" she laid it on the table and turned towards the bay window, +through which might be seen a fair view of the park, with its +undulating knolls and clumps of trees, between which wound in flowing +curves the well-kept drive leading to the high road. + +"You had better ring for the lights, Gwladys," said the elder lady, as +she settled herself to what she called "five minutes' snooze," a +slumber which generally lasted till dinner-time. + +"There is a carriage coming down the drive; what can it be, auntie?" +But auntie was already in dreamland, and Gwladys stood still at the +window watching with curiosity the vehicle which drew nearer and nearer. + +"The fly from the Red Dragon at Monmouth! who can it be?" and her blue +eyes opened wide as she saw alighting from it a girl in a quiet black +travelling dress. "She's young and has golden hair like mine--a +dressmaker, probably, for one of the servants, but she would scarcely +come to the front door." + +Before she had time to conjecture further, the door was opened by a +servant man, who seemed rather flustered as the visitor entered +quickly, unannounced. She had merely asked him, "Miss Gwladys Powell +lives here?" and, receiving an answer in the affirmative, had walked +into the hall and followed the puzzled man to the drawing-room door. + +As she entered the room in the dim twilight, Gwladys stood still with +astonishment, while William so far forgot himself as to stand +open-mouthed with his hand on the door-handle, until Gwladys said, "The +lamps, William," when he disappeared suddenly. + +The visitor stood for one moment frightened and doubtful. + +"I am Valmai," she said, approaching Gwladys with her hands extended. + +"Valmai?" said Gwladys, taking both the offered hands. "I don't know +the name--but--surely, surely, we are sisters! You are my twin-sister. +Oh, I have heard the old story, and have longed for and dreamt of this +meeting all my life," and in a moment the two girls were clasped to +each other's hearts. + +Gwladys seemed more unnerved by the meeting than Valmai, for she +trembled with eagerness as she drew the new-comer nearer to the window, +where the evening light shone upon the fresh pure face, so completely +the image of her own, that both were impelled over and over again to +renew their embraces, and to cling closely together. + +When William entered with the lights, they were seated on the sofa with +clasped hands, and arms thrown round each other's necks. + +"Please, m'm, is the carriage to go or to stay?" + +"Oh, to go--to go, of course," said Gwladys, rising to her feet. + +"I have paid him," said Valmai; "but I couldn't be sure, you know, +whether--whether--" + +"No, darling, of course. Auntie, auntie, awake and see who has come." + +Mrs. Besborough Power blinked lazily. + +"Dinner?" she said. + +"No, no, auntie, not for another hour, it is only seven o'clock; but do +wake up and see who has come." + +But the sight of the strange girl had already recalled her aunt to her +senses; her beady black eyes were fixed upon her, and her high-bridged +nose seemed to be aiding them in their inquiries, as she pressed her +lips together, and sniffed in astonishment. + +"Gwladys," she said, "is it possible that I have invited anyone to +dinner, and then forgotten it?" + +Gwladys had removed her sister's hat, and as she stood now before Mrs. +Power, in the full light of the lamp and the fire, that poor lady was +smitten by the same bewilderment which had taken possession of William +at the front door. She could only ejaculate: + +"Gracious goodness, Gwladys! What is the meaning of this? Who is it, +child? and which are you? Are you this one or that one? For heaven's +sake say something, or I shall be quite confused." + +"It's Valmai, auntie, my twin-sister, though you could not remember her +name, but of whom I have thought often and often. Auntie, you will +welcome her for my sake? Is she not the very image of me? alike--nay, +not so, but the same, the very same, only in two bodies. Oh, Valmai! +Valmai! why have we been separated so long?" and, sinking into a chair, +she trembled with agitation. + +Mrs. Power held her hands out, though not very cordially. She was +beginning to arrange her ideas. + +"Welcome her! Why, of course, of course. How do you do, my dear? +Very glad to see you, I am sure, though I can't think where you have +dropped from. Gwladys, calm yourself; I am surprised at you. I +thought you were in Figi, or Panama, or Macedonia, or some place of +that kind." + +"Patagonia," said Valmai, smiling. "My parents both died there, and I +have come home to live in Wales again--" + +"Well, to be sure," said Mrs. Power, rubbing one hand over another, her +favourite action. "Come, Gwladys, don't cry--don't be silly; as your +sister is here, she will stay with us a week or so. Can you, my dear?" + +"Yes," said Valmai, whose clear mind quickly drew its own conclusions +and formed its own plans. "Yes, indeed, I hoped you would ask me to +stay a week or so; but do not think I am come to be dependent on you. +No, I am well off, but I had an intense longing to see my sister; and +having no ties or claims upon me, I made up my mind to find her out +before I settled down into some new life." + +Alas, poor human nature! The few words, "I am well off," influenced +Mrs. Besborough Power at once in her reception of the friendless girl. + +"Of course, my dear, stay as long as you like. Go upstairs now and +take your things off, and after dinner you shall tell us all your +story." + +And arm-in-arm the two girls left the room, "like twin cherries on a +stalk." The resemblance between them was bewildering; every line of +feature, every tone of colouring was the same. + +"Let us stand together before this cheval glass," said Gwladys, "and +have a good look at each other. Oh, Valmai, my beloved sister, I feel +as if I had known you all my life, and could never bear to part with +you." + +And as they stood side by side before the glass, they were themselves +astonished, puzzled, and amused at the exact likeness of one to the +other. The same broad forehead, in which, at the temples, the blue +veins showed so plainly, the same depth of tenderness in the blue eyes, +the same slender neck, and the same small hands; the only difference +lay in the expression, for over Gwladys's upper lip and half-drooped +eyelids hovered a shade of pride and haughtiness which was absent from +Valmai's countenance. + +"Oh, see," she said playfully, "there is a difference--that little pink +mole on my arm. Valmai, you haven't got it." + +"No," said Valmai, critically examining her wrist, with rather a +dissatisfied look, "I haven't got that; but in everything else we are +just alike. How lovely you are, Gwladys." + +"And you, Valmai, how sweet." And again they embraced each other. + +"I have no dress to change for dinner, dear. Do you dress?" + +"Oh, only just a little, and I won't at all this evening. How strange +we should both be in mourning, too! Mine is for Mrs. Power's sister. +Who are you wearing black for?" + +A hot blush suffused Valmai's face and neck as she answered slowly: + +"I am not in mourning, but thought black would be nice to travel in. I +generally wear white." + +"How strange! so do I," said Gwladys; "white or something very light. +Shall we go down, dear? Would you like a bedroom to yourself, or shall +we sleep together?" + +"Oh, let us sleep together!" + +And with arms thrown over each other's shoulders, they descended the +broad staircase, just as Mrs. Power, in answer to William's summons, +was crossing the hall to the dining-room. + +"Here we are, auntie, or here I am and here is she." + +"Come along, then, my dears." + +"Well, indeed, I never did," said William, when he entered the kitchen; +"no, I never, never did see such a likeness between two young leddies. +They are the same picture as each other! And missus says to me, +'William,' she says, 'this is Miss Gwladys's sister, her twin-sister,' +she says, 'Miss Valmai Powell.' And I couldn't say nothing, if you +believe me, with my eyes as big as saucers. Ach y fi! there's an odd +thing!" + +In the drawing-room after dinner there were endless questions and +answers, each one seeming to find in the other's history a subject of +the deepest interest. Mrs. Besborough Power, especially, with her nose +in the air, sometimes looking over her spectacles, and sometimes under +them, sometimes through them, did not hesitate to question Valmai on +the minutest particulars of her life hitherto--questions which the +latter found it rather difficult to answer without referring to the +last eighteen months. + +"H'm!" said Mrs. Power, for the twentieth time, "and ever since your +father's death you have been living with your uncle?" + +"With my uncles, first one and then the other; and the last few months +with dear Nance, my old nurse." + +"What! Nance Owen? Is she alive still?" + +"Yes; she is, indeed." + +"She must be very old now?" + +"Yes, and frail; but as loving and tender as ever." + +And so on, and so on, until bed-time; and the two girls were once more +together in their bedroom. + +The maid, who was deeply interested in the strange visitor, lingered +about the toilet-table a little unnecessarily, until Gwladys, in a +voice which, though not unkind, showed she was more accustomed to +command than Valmai, said: + +"That will do, thank you, I will do my own hair to-night. My sister +and I wish to talk." And, having dismissed Maria, she drew two cosy +chairs round the wood fire. + +"Come along, Valmai, now we can chat to our heart's content." And +soon, with feet on fender and hair unloosed, the sisters talked and +talked, as if making up for the long years of silence which had divided +them. + +"And how happy that neither of us is married," said Gwladys. "We might +never have met then, dear." + +"Possibly," said Valmai. + +"And what a good thing we haven't the same lover to quarrel about." + +"Yes," said Valmai, rather absently. She was struggling hard with the +tumult of feelings which she had hitherto restrained, endeavouring to +smile and laugh as the occasion required; but now the tide of emotions, +which had been pent up all day, threatened to burst its bonds. + +"What is it, dear?" said Gwladys. "What makes your voice tremble so? +There is something you are hiding from me?" and, flinging herself down +on the hearth-rug at Valmai's feet, she clasped her arms around her +knees, and leant her head on her lap, while Valmai, giving way to the +torrent of tears which had overpowered her, bent her own head over her +sister's until their long unbound hair was mingled together. + +"Oh, Gwladys! Gwladys!" she said, between her sobs, "yes, I have +hidden something from you. Something, oh, everything--the very point +and meaning of my life. And I must still hide it from you. Gwladys, +can you trust me? Can you believe your sister is pure and good when +she tells you that the last eighteen months of her life must be hidden +from you? Not because they contain anything shameful, but because +circumstances compel her to silence." + +The effect of these words upon Gwladys was, at first, to make her rigid +and cold as stone. She drew herself away from her sister, gently but +firmly, and, standing before her with blanched face and parched lips, +said: + +"I thought it was too good to be true; that I, who have so longed for a +sister's love, should have my desire so fully satisfied seemed too good +for earth, and now I see it was. There is a secret between us, a +shadow, Valmai; tell me something more, for pity's sake!" + +"I will tell you all I can, Gwladys, the rest I must keep to myself, +even though you should spurn me and cast me from you to-morrow, for I +have promised one who is dearer to me than life itself, and nothing +shall make me break that promise. Gwladys, I have loved, but--but I +have lost." + +"I know very little of the world," said Gwladys, speaking in cold +tones, "and still less of men; but the little I know of them has made +me despise them. Three times I have been sought in marriage, and three +times I have found something dishonourable in the men who said they +loved me. Love! What do men know of love? Fortunately my heart was +untouched; but you, Valmai, have been weaker. I see it all--oh! to my +sorrow I see it all! You have believed and trusted, and you have been +betrayed? Am I right?" + +"Yes, and no; I have loved and I have trusted, but I have not been +betrayed. He will come back to me, Gwladys--I know he will, some time +or other--and will explain the meaning of this long silence. Meanwhile +I must go on bearing and waiting." + +"Look into my eyes, Valmai," said Gwladys, kneeling once more before +her sister. + +And Valmai looked full into the blue orbs, the counterpart of her own, +with fearless, open gaze. + +"Now speak," said Gwladys, taking her sister's hand, and holding it on +her own fast-beating heart; "now tell me, here as we kneel together +before the All-seeing God and His holy angels, do you know of any +reason why we two, when we have dropped these bodies, should not stand +in equal purity before the Throne of God?" + +"Before God there is none! Of course, Gwladys, my heart is full of the +frailties and sin belonging to our human nature; but I understand what +you mean; and again I say, there is none!" + +"I will believe you, darling," said her sister, throwing her arms +around her, "I will believe you, dearest; I will take you into my warm +heart, and I will cling to you for ever!" + +"But I must go, Gwladys; I want to find some home where I can make +myself useful, and where I can fill my mind and hands with work +until--until--" + +"Until when, dear?" said Gwladys. + +Valmai rose with a troubled face and tearful eyes, and, stretching out +her hands, she gazed over them into the far distance, with a dreamy +look which gradually changed into a brightening smile. + +"Until the happy future comes! It will come some day, Gwladys, and +then you will be glad you trusted your sister." + +"Then to-night, dear," said Gwladys, "we will bury the last eighteen +months. I will never think of them or allude to them until you choose +to enlighten me. One thing only, Valmai," she added, "forget _that +man_--learn to despise him as I do; here is the fourth on my list! Let +us go to bed, dear; we are both tired." + +And the two sisters were soon sleeping side by side, so much alike in +every feature and limb, that no one looking at them would have been +able to distinguish one from the other. + +"What a strange thing," said Mrs. Power, a few days afterwards, as they +roamed about the grounds together, "that the Merediths should have +written to me just the day before you came! My dear, I think it will +be a delightful home for you. True, Mifanwy is an invalid, and you +will be her companion; but then they are advised to amuse her as much +as possible, and she sees a good deal of life, often going about from +one place to another. Let me see! they will get my letter to-morrow, +and I have no doubt they will write by return of post; but we can't +spare you for a month, dear. You know you promised us that!" And the +old lady purred on, walking between the twins, and much interested in +her plans. + +"Yes, indeed," said Valmai, "I shall be thankful for such a situation; +it is just what I would have chosen for myself, whatever." + +"'Whatever' and 'indeed' so often is very Welshy, my love," said Mrs. +Power, with a sniff of disapproval. + +"Yes, I am afraid, indeed," said the girl; "but you should have heard +me two years ago. I could scarcely speak any English then!" + +"Well, my dear, I hope Gwladys won't catch your Welsh accent; but the +Merediths have it very strongly themselves." + +"Oh! I hope they will like me," said Valmai. "I must not count my +chickens before they are hatched!" + +But they were hatched, and in this matter everything turned out well +for Valmai. + +The Merediths, who lived in an adjoining county, had for some time been +looking out for a companion for their eldest and invalid daughter. +They were delighted, therefore, when Mrs. Besborough Power's letter +arrived telling them of Gwladys's meeting with her twin-sister, and of +the latter's desire to find some situation of usefulness; and in less +than a month Valmai was domiciled amongst them, and already holding a +warm place in their regard. + +Mifanwy opened her heart to her at once, and seemed every day to revive +under the influence of her bright companionship; and her parents, +delighted with the change which they began to perceive in their +daughter, heaped kindnesses and attention upon Valmai, who was soon +looked upon as one of the family; even Gwen and Winifred, the two +younger girls, taking to her in a wonderful manner. + +Yes! Valmai was outwardly happy and fortunate. She hid from every eye +the sorrow which lay at the bottom of her heart like a leaden weight, +and little did those around her guess that every night, in the privacy +of her own room, she drew from her bosom a plain gold ring, and, laying +it on the bed before her, prayed over it with clasped hands and +streaming eyes. + +Gwladys and she corresponded very regularly, and she frequently went to +Carne for a few days' change when Mifanwy was well enough to spare her; +always regretted by the whole family when she left, and warmly welcomed +when she returned. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +DISPERSING CLOUDS. + +Two months had slipped away, and still Charles Williams remained a +patient in the Westlake Hospital at Sydney. At length, after a +consultation of the doctors, it was proposed that he should be +consigned to the workhouse infirmary. + +"We can't keep him here forever," said Dr. Emerton; "and as all the +beds will be wanted with this outbreak of diphtheria, I see nothing +else to be done." + +"Well," said Dr. Belton, "I am deeply interested in his case, and if +you agree, I will take him under my own particular charge. You know I +have a few rooms set apart for such cases in my house at Brookmere. I +will take him there, and see what I can do for him." + +"Very kind of you, I am sure," said Dr. Emerton. "You can afford that +sort of thing--I can't. I should have sent him to the infirmary, where +he would be under Dr. Hutchinson's care; but, of course, he will be +better off in your private hospital." + +And one day in the following week, Dr. Belton took home with him the +invalid, whose case he had already described to his wife and children, +so that when the stooping figure emerged from the carriage leaning +heavily on the arm of the nurse who accompanied him, he was received +with kindness and warmth, Mrs. Belton herself meeting him with +outstretched hands of welcome. + +"Very glad to see you, Mr. Williams. You will soon get better here, I +think." + +Cardo looked at her with no intelligence in his eyes. "Yes, thank +you," was all he said, as he passed with his nurse into the bright, +cosy room relegated to the use of the patients, who were so fortunate, +or so unfortunate as to arouse more than usual interest in Dr. Belton's +mind. + +"Now, nurse," said the doctor, "give him a good tea, and a little of +that cold quail, and after tea I will come and have a chat with him." + +Later on in the evening he kept his word and found Cardo sunk in the +depths of an arm-chair, watching with lack-lustre eyes, while the Dr.'s +two boys tried their skill at a game of bagatelle. + +"Well, Williams, and how are you now? tired, eh?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Cardo, turning his eyes upon the doctor with a look of +bewilderment, which reminded him of the look of dumb inquiry in the +eyes of a troubled dog. + +"You will like this better than the hospital I am sure. Do you love +children?" + +"No," was Cardo's laconic reply, at which the doctor smiled. + +He tried many subjects but failed to get any further answer than "yes" +or "no." Most men would have been discouraged when several weeks +passed over, and still his patient showed very little signs of +improvement. It is true, now he would answer more at length, but he +was never heard to volunteer a remark, though he sat for hours in what +looked like a "brown study," in which probably only indistinct forms +and fantastic shapes passed before his mind's eye. And latterly the +doctor too had frequently been observed to fall into a reverie, while +his eyes were fixed on Charles Williams's motionless attitude. After +much thought, he would sit beside his patient and try to interest him +in something going on around him. + +Indeed, Cardo's gentle ways, together with his handsome person, had +endeared him to all who came in contact with him, and there was not one +in the house, from the cook in the kitchen to Dr. Belton's youngest +child, who would not have rejoiced to see health restored to the +invalid. + +One evening, when Jack, a boy of twelve, returned from school, he came +bounding into the room in which Cardo sat with his eyes fixed on a +newspaper, which he had not turned nor moved for an hour, Sister Vera +sitting at the window with her work. + +"See, Mr. Williams," said the boy, "what Meta Wright gave me, some +gilded gingerbread! isn't it pretty? I have eaten a pig and a +lamb--now there is a ship for you." + +Cardo put down the paper, and taking the gingerbread in his thin +fingers, looked at it with eyes that gradually filled with tears. + +"Gingerbread?" he said, looking next at the boy, "gilded gingerbread in +the moonlight!" + +Sister Vera's eyes and ears were instantly on the alert, while she made +a sign of silence to the boy. + +Cardo continued to look at the gingerbread. Suddenly he held up his +finger and seemed to listen intently. + +"Hush!" he whispered, "do you hear the Berwen?" and he ate his +gingerbread slowly, sighing heavily when it was finished. + +This was good news for Dr. Belton, told garrulously at tea by his young +son, and more circumstantially by Sister Vera; but for long afterwards +there was no further sign of improvement in Cardo. + +It was not until three more months had passed that another sign of +reviving memory was seen in him, and again it was Jack who awoke the +sleeping chord. + +"Isn't it a shame?" he said, excitedly running into the room one day; +"mother is cutting Ethel's hair; says she's getting headaches from the +weight of it. Rot, I call it! See what a lovely curl I stole," and he +handed it to Cardo, who first of all looked at it with indifference, +but suddenly clutching it, curled it round his finger, and became very +excited. + +"Whose is it?" said Sister Vera, standing over him. + +His lips trembled and with a husky voice he said. + +"Valmai--" The sound of the name seemed to charm his ear, for he +continued to speak it in all sorts of varying tones--sometimes in +whispering tones of love--at others in loud and imploring accents. +"Oh, Valmai, Valmai!" he called, and when Dr. Belton entered the room, +he held out his hands towards him, and in a beseeching voice cried, +"Valmai! Valmai!" + +There was no rest for anyone in the hospital that night, for all night +long the house echoed with the cry of "Valmai! Valmai!" + +On the following morning, endeavouring to create some distraction from +this ever-recurring cry, Dr. Belton drove his patient with him for some +miles into the bush; the fresh air and motion seemed to quiet his +brain, and he fell into the silent stupor so constantly hanging over +him. + +"Come, Williams," said the doctor at last, as they emerged into a +well-kept road leading up to a handsome house which stood on a rising +ground before them, surrounded by its broad acres of well-cultivated +land. "You must brighten up now, for I am going to take you to see an +old friend of mine. Why, here he is!" and they were greeted by a +jovial shout as a portly, pleasant-faced man caught them up. + +"Hello! doctor, glad to see you; you havent honoured us with a visit +for some time." + +"I have been so busy lately, and even now you see I have brought a +patient with me. I thought a little change would do him good." + +"Of course, of course! the more the merrier. I'll ride on and prepare +Nellie for your coming," and off he galloped on his well-kept, spirited +horse, looking as he felt, perfectly at home in the saddle. + +"Nellie," a sweet-looking lady with a brunette's face, which retained +much of the beauty of youth, although she had now attained to middle +age, was as hearty as her husband in her greeting. + +"So glad to see you--you are just in time for dinner; for a wonder +Lewis is punctual today." + +She shook hands with Cardo, and placed a chair for him at the +well-filled table. He took his seat with a pleasant smile, but soon +fell into his usual dreamy state, which the company at a sign from Dr. +Belton took no notice of. + +"I do believe, Williams," said Dr. Belton at last, "that I have never +introduced you to my friends. These are Mr. and Mrs. Wynne." + +Cardo looked up almost eagerly. + +"Cardo Wynne?" he said. + +"No," said the doctor; "Mr. Lewis Wynne. But do you know that name?" + +"Yes, Cardo Wynne." + +"Is that your name?" asked the shrewd doctor. + +"Yes, Cardo Wynne." + +"Merciful goodness!" said the host, in excited astonishment, which his +wife seemed in a great measure to share, "that is the name of my +brother's son, Caradoc, commonly called Cardo Wynne; that is what Dr. +Hughes told us, Nellie, didn't he?" + +"Yes, I have often thought of the name and wondered what he was like. +How sad," she said, "and such a handsome fellow, too." + +"Caradoc!" Dr. Belton called suddenly. + +"Yes," said Cardo, with one of his pleasant smiles, "Cardo Wynne, +Brynderyn." + +"Good heavens!" said Mr. Wynne, "there can be no doubt about it; that +is my brother's home." + +And both he and Dr. Belton, aided by Mrs. Wynne's gentle suggestions, +made every endeavour to elicit further information from Cardo, but in +vain. He had fallen again into an apparently unconscious and deadened +stupor. + +"Sunstroke, did you say? are you sure of that, Belton?" + +"Not at all," said the doctor; "in fact, I have had serious doubts of +it lately, and to-day's experience decides me. I will have a thorough +examination of his skull." + +"I will ride in to-morrow, to hear what further discoveries you have +made," said Mr. Wynne. And Dr. Belton returned home early, leaving his +host and hostess deeply interested. + +Calling Sister Vera to him he told her of his plans. + +"I have long thought it possible that poor fellow might have had a blow +of some kind on his head, and that he is still suffering from the +effects of it. I shall at once administer an anaesthetic and have a +thorough examination of his head. The idea of sunstroke was so +confirmed by the symptoms when he was brought to the hospital that no +one thought of anything else." + +"How soon?" asked the nurse. + +"To-morrow--three o'clock." + +And the next afternoon, Cardo's head was thoroughly examined, with the +result that Dr. Belton soon found at the back of the skull near the top +a small but undoubted indentation. + +"Of course," he said, "we must have been blind not to guess it before; +but we are blind sometimes--very blind and very stupid." + +Cardo was kept under the influence of a sedative that night, and next +day Dr. Belton, with the promptness of action which he now regretted he +had not sooner exercised, procured the help of one of the most noted +specialists in Sydney, and an operation was successfully performed. + +Mr. and Mrs. Wynne's visits of inquiry and sympathy were of almost +daily occurrence during the next month, while Cardo in the darkened, +quiet room, slowly regained his powers of mind and body. It was a very +slow progress, though it did not seem to be wholly unsatisfactory to +Dr. Belton. That good man, after weeks, nay months, of anxious +interest, was, however, at last rewarded by the pleasant spectacle of a +young and ardent temperament gradually re-awakening to the joys of life. + +The mind which had been darkened for so long could not be expected to +regain its elasticity and spring at once, in an hour, or a day. But it +was evident to the doctor that the healing process which had begun +would continue, unless retarded by some unforeseen accident. Gradually +the children were admitted into his presence, and while they played +with Cardo, Mrs. Belton came and chatted with Sister Vera. + +A few days later on Mr. and Mrs. Wynne entered through the verandah +with Dr. Belton, and although Cardo looked a little flustered and +puzzled, the pleasant smile and warm clasp of the hand with which he +greeted them showed there was no great depth of distrust or fear in his +mind. His uncle and aunt possessed much good sense and judgment, and +did not hurriedly thrust the recognition of themselves upon their +nephew, but waited patiently, and let it dawn gradually upon him. + +One afternoon, while Cardo, accompanied by his uncle and aunt, were +walking up and down the verandah conversing on things in general, in a +friendly and unconstrained manner, he suddenly stopped, and looking +full into his uncle's face, said: + +"Uncle Lewis, I cannot imagine how you and I have come here together; +some things seem so very clear to me, and others so dim and indistinct." + +"But every day they grow clearer, do they not?" + +"Yes, I think so. Have I been ill?" + +"Yes, my dear fellow," said his uncle, gently laying his hand on his +arm, "you have been very ill, and your recovery depends entirely upon +your keeping your mind calm and restful. Do not attempt to remember +anything that does not come clearly into your mind; in fact, live in +the present as much as you can, and the past will come back to you +gradually." + +At this moment Dr. Belton appeared on the verandah, having just +returned from a visit to one of the Sydney hospitals. After greeting +his friends, he sat down on a rustic chair, and with a stretch and a +yawn brought out from his coat pocket a leather pocket-book which he +flung across to Cardo. + +"There, Cardo, is that yours?" + +"Yes," he answered, carelessly taking the pocketbook and placing it in +his pocket. + +"Come, you have disposed of it quickly; look at it again." + +Cardo drew it out once more, and, looking at it more carefully, said: + +"I do not remember where I dropped it; but I do remember being in a +hot, scorching atmosphere, and feeling a terrific blow on my head, and +then--nothing more but cloud and darkness, until I awoke here to light +and memory, though that sometimes fails me, for I cannot remember +exactly what happened before that day of burning heat." + +"Well! the blow on your head and the loss of your pocket-book I can +explain, for to-day in the Eastlake Hospital, I was with a dying man, +who confessed that about a year and a half ago he was standing idly on +the docks, when he saw a gentleman suddenly struck on the back of his +head by the swinging arm of a huge crane, used for lifting heavy +weights to and from the shipping. The young man fell forward, his +pocket-book--that one I have just given you--fell out of his pocket, +and was pounced upon by the man who died to-day. That was you, Cardo +Wynne; you were struck down insensible by the iron bar, and while you +were quickly surrounded by a crowd and carried to the hospital, the man +escaped with your pocket-book. He returned it to me with great +penitence, having spent all your money, I am afraid; but your papers, I +think, are intact, and I see you have in it a letter of credit upon the +Bank of Australasia." + +"Why, yes," said Cardo, "I remember coming to the harbour in a ship. +What was it called? The _Burrawalla_!" and as he fingered the papers +in the pocket-book, and came upon his father's signature, Meurig Wynne, +he became much excited, and hunted eagerly until he found a folded +paper, out of which he drew a long curl of golden hair. + +"Valmai!" he said, "oh, Valmai, Valmai!" and dropping on to a seat, he +covered his face with his hands, and through his fingers trickled some +silent tears. + +"I must forbid any more excitement for the present," said the doctor; +"let us go in to dinner." + +And as they gathered round the table, Cardo took his seat next to his +uncle, with more cheerfulness and alacrity than usual. + +The thread of memory, once awakened, never wholly slept again. Daily +and almost hourly memories of the past returned to him, and as he +gained bodily and mental strength, he gradually unfolded to his uncle +the incidents which had preceded his coming to Australia. + +When Lewis Wynne became fully aware of his brother's deep-seated +affection for him, and of the penitence and remorse which had darkened +his life, he was filled with an impatient anxiety to return to the land +of his birth and the brother whom he had loved so much. Indeed, before +his acquaintance with his nephew, he had already begun to arrange his +affairs with the intention of disposing of his property in Australia, +for he had prospered in all his undertakings, and was now a wealthy man. + +It was delightful news therefore to Cardo when his uncle one day +appeared at Dr. Belton's, with the information that he had concluded a +satisfactory sale of his property. + +"So we'll go back together, old boy," he said, slapping Cardo on the +back in his usual jovial manner; "you can write to your father, and +tell him to look out for a house for Nellie and me." + +"I will write to him to-day," said Cardo; "poor old dad, poor old dad! +What he must have suffered! I only hope the suspense has not killed +him!" + +"Well, if he is alive," said his uncle, "your good news will make up to +him for all the past! We'll have some happy days in the old country +yet. You must get married, Cardo, and settle down near us!" + +"I am married," said Cardo, with a whole-hearted laugh at Dr. Belton's +look of astonishment. + +"Married!" said the doctor, "I never suspected that! I did think that +long golden curl pointed to some love-affair." + +"It did, indeed," said Cardo; "it is one of my sweet wife Valmai's +curls!" + +"Where is she now?" said Mr. Wynne, "with your father?" + +"No," he said, with a more serious look, "living with her uncle. The +truth is, my father knows nothing about our marriage, and I have only +yesterday written to tell him the whole truth; and now that I am able +to add the delightful news that you are returning with me, I think it +will soften his heart, and he will forgive our secrecy." + +"What objection has he to the lady?" + +"She is the Methodist minister's niece." + +At this remark Lewis Wynne burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. + +"The richest thing I ever heard of. Ha, ha, ha! Meurig Wynne's son +married to a Methodist preacher's niece. My dear boy, he'll never give +his consent. Why, he hated them like the very devil himself, and now +you expect him to agree to your marrying a Methodist." + +"He'll have to," said Cardo, "and I think he will." + +"Never, my boy, never," said Lewis, rubbing his hands gleefully. "I +expect we shall have some exciting times down there, Nellie?" + +"Yes; there will be one thing missing, and that will be dear Agnes." + +"It will always be a mystery to me," said Lewis Wynne, "how I missed +your father's letter, although certainly I was roaming about a good +deal at the time, and afterwards never hearing my brother's name from +Dr. Hughes, who wrote occasionally, I naturally thought he was still +keeping up his unaccountable anger against me; and the busy life of an +Australian station soon occupied my life entirely; but, hurrah! for old +Cymry now. We'll go back and make it all right, Cardo." + +And in less than a month from this time, a very bright and cheerful +party went on board the fast sailing steamer _Wellingtonia_. Mr. and +Mrs. Wynne especially were full of life and spirits. + +Dr. Belton went on board with them, and when the last good-byes were +said, he declared that Cardo's leaving would cause a great blank in his +life, as not only had he been greatly interested in the young man as "a +case," but he had also grown much attached to him as a friend. + +The bell rang, the gangway was raised, and the _Wellingtonia_ moved +from the side of the quay; and when at last they had fairly bid +good-bye to Australia, they turned to look at each other, and to +realise that another leaf in the book of life had been turned over. + +Cardo was full of the brightest hopes, but shaded by anxiety, for he +knew now that two whole years had passed away since he bade good-bye to +Valmai on the quay at Fordsea. What had been her fate since then? How +had she borne his long and unexplained absence and silence? And as he +paced up and down the deck he was full of troubled thought, as well as +of bright hopes and anticipations. + +"She must think me dead, but she will soon hear; in another week she +will receive my letter, and, oh! I will make up to her in the future +for all she may have suffered. Valmai, my darling! I am coming back +to you, to kiss away your tears, and to shield you from every trouble +in the future!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +HOME AGAIN. + +A cold, biting, north wind blew over Abersethin one morning in +November, the sea tossed and tumbled its sand-stained waves in the bay, +the wind carrying large lumps of yellow foam far up over the beach, and +even to the village street, where the "Vicare du" was making a +difficult progress towards the post-office, his hat tied firmly on, his +hands buried deep in his pockets, and his long, black cloak flapping +behind him. He walked on bravely. Every day he tramped over the sandy +beach, under the cliffs, and down the village street to the +post-office; this was quite a change in his habits, which drew many +comments from the gossiping villagers. + +"Well, well; he might have been kinder to his son when he had him with +him; he'll never have the chance again," said Peggi "bakkare," peering +through her tiny, foam-flecked window. + +"No," said Madlen, who had come in for a loaf; "having got safe away +'tisn't likely the young man will turn up here again, and small blame +to him considering everything." + +"No, indeed, Madlen fach; serve the old Vicare right; but 'tis a pity +for the poor girl, whatever." + +"And where is she, I wonder?" + +"Well, now," said Madlen, "Mary, my sister, was coming home from Caer +Madoc last week, and on the roadside there was a tent of gypshwns; it +was dark and they had a fire, and there, sitting by the fire, was a +girl the very picture of Valmai." + +"Dir anwl! I daresay it was her, indeed; but yet, I thought she was +too much of a lady to join the gypshwns. Well, well; strange things do +happen." + +And the story of Valmai having been seen in the tent of the gypshwns +was spread abroad in the village, not that any one believed it, but it +was, at all events, better than no news, and was a little spicy +condiment in the daily fare of gossip. + +"My papers," said the "Vicare du" laconically to the postmaster. "Is +your wife better?" + +"Iss thank you, sir, and here is a letter for you--from Australia, I +think." + +The Vicar took it without any show of feeling, though his heart had +given a sudden bound at the postman's news. + +"Stormy day," he said, as he passed out of the narrow doorway. + +He was longing to get home, but he would not hurry his step. He +stopped and looked impatiently as he heard the postman call after him. + +"There is another letter from Australia, sir, but I dunno where was I +to send it. Here it is, sir." And he touched his hat apologetically +as he handed a second letter to him. + +"Yes; my son's handwriting, I see. I will take charge of it." + +He gasped for breath, though the postman saw no sign of emotion, and, +as he bent his head against the wind, he read the address on the second +letter. + + "Mrs. Caradoc Wynne, + c/o Rev. Meurig Wynne, + Brynderyn, + Abersethin, + Cardiganshire, Wales." + +"Oh, my God, I thank Thee," were the only words that escaped the +Vicar's lips while he hurried home through the brewing storm, the +letters clutched in his hand and pressed against his breast; but these +words were repeated several times. + +At last, in the quiet of his study, he opened his son's letter and +hungrily devoured every word of its contents twice over. After its +perusal he took up the second letter, and, with visible emotion, poured +over every line of the address, turning the envelope over and over, and +pondering in deep but silent thought, from which Betto's knock, +announcing dinner, startled him. + +As he stood for a moment to say grace, before sitting down to his meal, +Betto raised her eyes to his face, and was so startled by the changed +and softened look that, with round eyes of surprise, she asked: + +"Mishtir bach! what is it?" + +"Mr. Cardo is coming home." + +And Betto, quite overcome, plumped herself down on the sofa, throwing +her apron over her head and shedding some surreptitious tears of +sympathy; while the Vicar, forgetting his dinner, recounted to her the +chief incidents of his son's absence--his long illness, and subsequent +loss of memory--Betto following the tale with a running accompaniment +of ejaculations. + +"And this, Betto," said her master, slowly laying the other letter on +the table before her, "look at it--but I forgot you can't read English." + +"Howyer bach! not I." + +"Well, it is addressed to 'Mrs. Caradoc Wynne.' Did you know anything +of this?" + +Betto's face exhibited a succession of expressions, which followed each +other like dissolving views, astonishment, indignation, fear of her +master's displeasure, determination to champion Cardo in any course of +combat, all ending in a broad grin of delight as she saw an +unaccustomed curve on the Vicar's lips. + +"Did I know it? No; if I had, I wouldn't have had words with so many +people in the village. Oh! my boy, bach! didn't I always say he was a +gentleman!" And her varied emotions culminated in a rain of tears. + +"Twt, twt!" said the Vicar, clearing his throat, "no nonsense, Betto; +bring me the potatoes." + +And that meal was finished with more cheerfulness than had lightened up +that dark old room for many a long year. + +From that day forth the Vicar seemed to gain strength and gladness with +every hour. He took long walks in his parish, and showed more tender +sympathy with the ailments and troubles of his ancient congregation. +The wonderful change in the "Vicare du" was the subject of remark at +many a cottage hearth, and in many a roadside conversation. + +"Oh! it's his son's coming home that has brightened him up so much; and +John Jones, postmaster, says he took the other letter as meek as a +lamb. But what has he done with it nobody knows. John Jones is saying +that it has never been posted again, so he must have got it still." + +"Well, well! how can he post it when nobody knows where Mrs. Caradoc +Wynne is?" + +"Mrs. Caradoc Wynne, indeed! Phrutt!" + + * * * * * * + +Early in the New Year, when the bare, brown hills had thrown off their +mantle of snow, and the blue waters of the bay were glinting in the +sunshine, and the starry, golden celandines looked up fearlessly from +every bank and hedge, a heavily-laden carriage, drawn by a pair of +strong horses, rolled along the dry, hard road from Caer Madoc towards +Abersethin. Its occupants looked at every scene with interest, +recalling reminiscences of former days at every turn of the road, and +looking out eagerly for the chimneys of the village, which lay at the +bottom of the valley. + +The travellers were Cardo and Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Wynne. As the +carriage left the firm, high road, and began to descend one of the +stony lanes which led to the shores below, Cardo became silent and +thoughtful; he had hitherto been the life of the party. Returning home +in perfect health and spirits, he had given the rein to his fancy, and +was full of buoyant hopes and joyful anticipations. + +The Vicar, apprised of their coming, was watching at the gate--indeed, +had been there more or less since breakfast, and it was now nearly noon. + +Betto flew about with amazing agility, considering her size and weight, +dusting a chair, smoothing her apron, shading her eyes with her hand, +and peering towards the brow of the hill for some signs of their coming. + +At last they arrived, and it would be useless to try to describe that +happy meeting. The Vicar seemed overwhelmed with joy, not only to +receive once more his beloved son, but also to clasp the hand of the +brother whom he thought had been estranged from him for ever! + +It was quite an hour or two before they had all calmed down. + +"We sha'n't keep this fellow long with us," said Lewis Wynne, +indicating Cardo with a jerk of his thumb; "he can scarcely take his +eyes off that ramshackle old house up there on the cliff; naturally he +is longing to see his wife. You must make no objection, Meurig." + +"None. I have no wish to do so." + +"Nellie and I," continued his brother, "are quite looking forward to +see our niece--of course we make all allowance for the rhapsodies of a +lover; but discounting all that, I really think, Meurig, he has found a +pearl in that old, rough oyster-shell of a house." + +"Wait a moment, Cardo," said his father, as he saw his son hunting +about for his hat. "I am afraid I have a disappointment in store for +you," and from his breast-pocket he drew out, and handed to Cardo, his +own letter to Valmai. + +Cardo's face blanched, as with trembling fingers he turned the envelope +round and round. + +"What is the meaning of this, father?" he asked at last an angry flush +rising to his pale face, "Did I count too much upon your forgiveness +when I asked you to give this to Valmai?" + +"No, my dear boy, I would gladly have given it to her, and I grieve for +your disappointment, but she has left this neighbourhood many, many +months, and nobody knows where she has gone." + +"Gone!" was all Cardo could exclaim, as he flung himself into a chair +and hid his face in his hands. + +"Yes. Much has happened since you left, and you may as well know it +now. There is nothing to hide from your uncle and aunt?" + +"No, no, tell me at once." + +"Well, much had happened before she left." + +Here Cardo started up excitedly. + +"Why, she has gone to her Uncle John, of course. Where else should she +go, dear innocent, without another friend in the world?" + +The Vicar shook his head. + +"She is not there, Cardo, for he died some months ago and left all his +money to his niece." + +But Cardo heard not the latter information. He was stunned by the news +of old Captain Powell's death; he had never thought of this +possibility, and was thrown into despair by the blow. Valmai wandering +about the world friendless and alone! The thought was distracting, and +in desperation he rushed out of the house. + +"Poor fellow," said Lewis Wynne, "this is a terrible blow to him." + +"Yes, yes, indeed! Perhaps he will be able to get some clue in the +village." + +Cardo flew over the beach and up the well-known path to Dinas. Shoni +was standing in the farm-yard. + +"Caton pawb! wass it you, Cardo Wynne?" he said. "Well, I was swear to +make you feel the weight of my fist; but if the news is true that +Valmai is marry to you, I will shake hands instead." + +Cardo wrung his hand. + +"Yes, yes, man, she is my wife, safe and sound--but where is she? Tell +me for heaven's sake where has she gone?" + +"Well, indeed, that I donno--Essec Powell donno--an' nobody know. You +look here now," said Shoni, "an' if you listen to me you will see +everything quite plain. After you gone away Valmai wass go down to +Fordsea to take care on her uncle, John Powell. He wass broke his leg, +and when he cum better Valmai cum back to Dinas." + +"Well," said Cardo, "what then? Tell me in Welsh, you'll get on +quicker." + +But Shoni indignantly declined to give up the language which he +considered he had so completely mastered. + +"What then!" he continued severely, "you know very well what then. It +wass three or four months before she cum back from Fordsea, and she +wass look pale and thin and every day more like a spirit angel. Well, +everybody see very soon what wass the matter with her, and at last +somebody told Essec Powell. It was just the same time Captain Powell +died, and when Essec Powell cum home from the funeral and find out his +brother leave all his money to Valmai he go to chapel and somebody tell +him about Valmai--" + +"What about Valmai?" said Cardo. + +"That she was gone, like many another, over the side of the path." + +"For heaven's sake, tell me what are you driving at?" + +"I am telling you if you wass quiet and let me alone. That night Essec +Powell cum home from chapel in a devil of temper, and he call Valmai a +thief to steal his brother's money from him, and worse names than that, +an' he turn her out of the house that night, pwr thing, pwr thing!" + +Cardo groaned and clenched his fists. + +"Well! the wind wass blowing, and the snow wass fallin' shockin', and I +could not let her carry her big bundle of clothes and she in the +condition she wass--" + +"Condition?" gasped Cardo, "what do you mean?" + +Shoni looked at him with keen, searching eyes. + +"Cardo Wynne," he said, "I wass ussed to think you an honest, +straightforward man, though you wass a churchman, and are you mean to +tell me now that you donno that Valmai Powell have a small child on the +30th June last year?" + +"As God is my witness, Shoni, this is the first breath I have heard of +such a thing; but she was my wife, why then should her uncle have +turned her out?" + +"But she nevare tell us that, see you, she nevare speak a word about +that, and only now lately Betto have told that the Vicare wass tell her +she was marry to you! and everybody is wonder why she didn't tell +before, instead of bear the nasty looks and words of the women. Oh! I +can tell you Gwen here look pretty flat when she hear the news she wass +married, and I did laugh in the corner of my mouth, 'cos she bin so +nasty to Valmai. Well! I went with her over the Rock Bridge, and we go +to Nance's cottage, and she cry, and Nance cry, and there I leave them, +and the next morning before the sun is thinking to get up, I take her +box and the rest of her clothes over in a boat, and she and Nance kom +out early to meet me--and for long time nobody knew she wass there--and +there her small child wass born. Here, sit down, sir, on my +wheelbarrow; this news is shake you very much, I see." + +Cardo felt compelled to take the proffered seat on the wheelbarrow, so +completely overcome was he by Shoni's information. + +"Go on, Shoni," he said, "make haste." + +"Well! she wass walk up and down the shore, and always looking out over +the sea; the sailors wass often watch her. 'She may look and look,' +they say, 'but he will nevare kom back!' And at last her child die." + +"Oh, God," said Cardo, "Valmai to suffer all this and I not with her!" + +"Where wass you, then?" said Shoni, "and why you not kom back?" + +"Because I was ill in hospital. I caught typhoid fever, and I had +concussion of the brain, and I lay unconscious for many long weeks, +nay, months. As soon as I came to myself, Shoni, I came home, and I +often wished I had the wings of the birds which flew over the ship, and +would reach land before us!" + +"Well, well, well," said Shoni, "I dunno what wass that illness you +had, but it must be very bad by the name of it; but whatever, my advice +to you is, go to Nance, perhaps she will tell you something, though she +won't tell nobody else." + +"Yes, yes, I am going at once. Thank you, Shoni; you have been kind to +her, and I can never forget it." And he jumped up and unceremoniously +left his companion staring after him. + +"Diwx anwl!" said Shoni, returning to his Welsh, "he goes like a +greyhound; good thing I didn't offer to go with him!" + +Cardo made short work of the green slopes which led down to the valley, +and shorter still of the beach below. He jumped into a boat with a +scant apology to Jack Harris, the owner, who with a delighted smile of +recognition, and a polite tug at his cap, took the oar and sculled him +across. + +"I am looking for my wife, Jack, so don't expect me to talk." + +"No, indeed, sir, I have heard the strange story, and I hope you will +find her, and bring the pretty young lady back with you, sir; she was +disappear from here like the sea mist." + +Nance was perfectly bewildered when Cardo appealed to her for +information, and her delight at his return to clear her darling's name +knew no bounds. She brought out her best teacups, settled the little +black teapot in the embers, and gradually drew her visitor into a +calmer frame of mind. + +His questions were endless. Every word that Valmai had said, every +dress she had worn, every flower she had planted in the little garden +were subjects of interest which he was never tired of discussing. + +But of deeper interest than flowers or dresses was Nance's account of +the tiny angel, who came for a short time to lighten the path of the +weary girl, and to add to her difficulties. + +"And she gave it up so meekly, so humbly, as if she could _see_ the +beautiful angels who came to fetch it. It laid there on the settle in +its little white nightgown, and she was sitting by it without crying, +but just looking at it, sometimes kissing the little blue lips. Dr. +Francis was very kind, and did everything about the funeral for her. +It is buried up here in the rock churchyard, in the corner where they +bury all the nameless ones, for we thought he had no father, you see, +sir, and we knew it was unbaptised. She would not have it christened. +She was waiting for you to come home, for she would not tell its name, +saying, 'Baby will do for him till his father comes home,' and 'Baby' +he was, pertws bach." + +Cardo sat listening, with his hands shading his eyes. + +"And now, here's the directions, sir," she said, as Peggi Bullet +returned from the well. "Here you, Peggi fach, you are so nimble, you +climb up the ladder and bring the old teapot down." + +And the nimble woman of seventy soon laid before them the old cracked +teapot, out of which Nance drew the same faded address which she had +once shown to Valmai. + +"It is horribly faint," said Cardo, a fresh tremor rising in his heart. + +"Here it is now," said Nance, placing her shrivelled finger on the +paper. "This is where she went from here, when all this trouble came +upon her, and everybody pointed the finger of scorn at her; and when +she had given up the hope that you would ever come back, sir, she +turned to her sister, dear child!" + +"I never knew she had a sister!" + +"No, nor she didn't know much about her; but I knew, and I told her. +Born the same time they were, and a grand lady, who was lodging at +Essec Powell's at the time, took the sister away with her, and brought +her up as her own daughter, and we have never heard of her since. 'But +I will find her, Nance,' she said. 'I _will_ find her! I know I +will!'" + +"But have you never heard from her?" + +"Well, indeed, there was a letter," said Nance, "came soon after she +left. Dr. Francis read it to me, and I think I put it in that teapot, +but I am not sure; indeed, perhaps Peggie has thrown it away." + +"And what did she say?" + +"'Oh!' she said, 'I have found my sister, Nance, and you must not be +unhappy about me, everybody is so kind to me. If anyone comes to ask +for me, say I am here,' but she didn't say where!" + +"But the address was at the top of the letter," said Cardo. + +"Oh, anwl! I daresay it was. I never thought of that! There's a pity +now; but try again to read that--she read it." + +"Well, let me see," said Cardo, taking the faded paper to the window. + +"Mrs. Besborough Power?" + +"That's it!" said Nance. + +"Carew?" + +"No; that's not right." + +"Carne?" + +"Yes; that's what she called it." + +"Montgomeryshire?" + +"No; she wrote there and the letter was sent back." + +"Then it must be Monmouthshire!" + +And with this scant information, and a very heavy heart, Cardo left the +cottage, and, telling Jack Harris to meet him at the other side of the +island, he made his way up the path which led to the little +burying-ground behind the Rock Church. + +"Poor fellow!" said Peggi Bullet, looking after him, "you can't measure +sorrow by the length of a man." + +He stepped over the low wall which divided it from the coarse grass of +the cliffs, and immediately found himself in a sunny corner. The +little grassy mounds were numerous, few had headstones; but one, marked +by a little white cross, had evidently received much care and +attention. The grass was soft and fine as velvet. Cardo approached it +with sorrowful reverence; he stooped to read the inscription. + +"In memory of Robert Powell ----. Born, June 30th. Died, August 30th." + +The blank space puzzled him for a moment, but, as he stood with folded +arms looking down at the little mound, a sudden revelation seemed to +flood his mind and enlighten him more thoroughly than all that he had +hitherto heard and done. She had kept faithfully--ah, too +faithfully--her promise to hide the secret of their marriage until he +should come himself to reveal it. How selfish, how thoughtless he had +been. Was it possible that his first letter to her, as well as his +last, might have miscarried? What had she not suffered? Alone, +friendless, disgraced in the eyes of the world. Motherhood, death, the +bitterness of feeling herself deserted--all--all had been tasted by her +for whom he would willingly have laid down his life; and he registered +a solemn vow that the devotion and love of his whole life should +henceforth shield her and guard her from every sorrow as far as in him +lay. + +He turned away from the little grave with a curious yearning in his +heart. His own and Valmai's child! Strange and new feelings awoke +within him as he crossed the rocky ridge running through the island, +and began his way down to the other side to the scattered fishing +village, where Jack Harris met him and quickly rowed him across to +Abersethin. + +Here his first visit was to the stone-cutter's. + +Morris Jones received him with the usual exclamations. + +"Howyr bach! well, well! there's glad I am to see you, sir!" And he +shook Cardo's hand vigorously. "And, oh, dear, dear; there's sorry I +am you didn't come sooner, sir, before the poor young leddy went away. +She was broke her heart too much to stop after her small child was +buried--and a beautiful boy he was too, sir, the very picture of you." + +"You cut that inscription on the little cross, Morris?" + +"Iss, sir, I did; with my own hands, and I don't think you get it +better done--no, not in Paddington itself." + +"No--it is excellent. But the gap after 'Robert Powell'; you must add +'Wynne' to it at once." + +"That's it, sir, that's it! before next Sunday it shall be done. I +hope you will find the young leddy, sir." + +"My wife, Morris." + +"Iss, iss, sir; there's glad I was to hear that." + +And, as Cardo left, and passed through the rest of the village, the +same warm wish followed him from many a cottage window, and from every +group of fishermen whom he passed on the way. + +"He has not forgotten his pleasant manners, whatever," said the men, as +he greeted them all with his usual frank and genial smile. + +"No; nor he hasn't lost his good looks," said the women. "Though, +indeed, his heart must be heavy now, druan bach." [1] + +"Well," said the Vicar next morning, as Cardo drove off to Caer Madoc +to catch the train at the nearest station, "I mustn't grumble at losing +him so soon; he is doing the right thing, poor fellow, and I hope in my +heart he may find his wife and bring her home. What a happy party we +shall be! The only thorn in my flesh will be Essec Powell; I don't +think I can ever get over my dislike to that man." + +"Oh, nonsense," said his brother, "let us all three go up there to-day, +and take the bull by the horns, and make friends with him." + +And after breakfast, the Vicar, though with a bad grace, buttoned up +his long black coat, and took his way, accompanied by his brother and +his wife, up the steep path to Dinas. + +It was an early hour certainly, not yet eleven o'clock; but "calling" +was unknown at Abersethin, and it was not the unseasonableness of the +hour which made Shoni stare as the three visitors entered the "clos" or +farm-yard. + +"Well, diwedd anwl!" he said, barely escaping an oath, "here's the +'Vicare du'! I know him by his coat tails, and his tallow face, and no +doubt that is Lewis Wynne and his wife with him;" (for village gossip +had already spread abroad the news of the arrivals at Brynderyn). +"Well, indeed," he continued, "the preacher on Sunday night told us the +end of the world was coming, and now I believe it!" and he put down his +wheel-barrow, and stood stock still while the visitors approached. + +"Borau-da!" [2] said the Vicare, in a constrained voice. + +"Borau-da," was all Shoni's answer, and seeing a dogged look come into +his face, Lewis Wynne took the lead in the conversation. + +"How are you, Shoni? Do you remember the jolly day we had, you and I, +out fishing when we ought to have been at school?" + +"Yes, I do indeed, sir, and the lot of fish we caught." + +"Yes, and the thrashing we got for it afterwards! But we want to see +your master, Shoni." + +"Essec Powell?" + +"Yes--Essec Powell, is he too busy?" + +Shoni hid his face behind his sleeve, while he indulged in a cackle. + +"Has he company, then?" + +"Oh, very good company--plenty of company! he got Taliesin--Owen +Glyndwr--Iolo Morganwg and all the rest of them! and he's quite happy +in their company. But once he comes down to live with us he's as rough +and prickly as a birch-broom. Indeed he wass nevver used to be like +this whatever; 'tis ever since his brother John die, and leave all his +money to Valmai." + +"You must try to call her Mrs. Caradoc Wynne now, Shoni," said the +Vicar, with a smile. + +"Yes, indeed, sir," said Shoni, quickly thawing; "there's nobody in +Abersethin but won't be glad to see Val--Mrs. Wynne home again; it bin +very dull here without her, ever since she gone away." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Wynne had knocked at the door and had been confronted by +Essec Powell himself, who presented such an extraordinary appearance +that she had some difficulty in composing her face to a proper degree +of gravity. His trousers of brown cloth, burnt at the knees into a +green hue, were turned up above each ankle, exhibiting his blue woollen +stockings and a tattered pair of black cloth shoes, his coat was of +black cloth, very much frayed at the collar and cuffs, his white hair +flew about in all directions, as the draught from the back door swirled +in when the front door was opened. He had his finger in the leaves of +an old book, and with a far-away look in his blue eyes, all he could +say was a bewildered, "Eh!" + +"The Vicar is coming to see you, Mr. Powell--" + +"What Vicar? What, the 'Vicare du'?" and at this moment the Vicar +appeared, and held out his hand. + +Essec Powell stared in astonishment, and carefully exchanging his book +from his right to his left hand, and glancing to see that his finger +was on the right passage, he rather ungraciously shook hands with his +visitor. + +"Well," he said, "there's a thing I never thought I would do in this +world." + +"Oh, well, come," said Lewis Wynne's jovial voice. "You meant to do it +in the next world evidently, so we may as well begin here." + +"Will you come in?" and the old man awkwardly ushered them into the +little back parlour, which Valmai's busy fingers had transformed from +its original bareness into a cosy home-room. + +"Oh, what a dear little room," said Mrs. Wynne as she entered. + +The table was littered with books and papers, a gleam of sunlight +shining through the crimson curtains giving a warm glow to the whole +room. + +"Yes," said Essec Powell, looking round with the air of a stranger, "it +has nice bookshelves, and a nice light for reading; but I miss that +girl shocking, shocking," he repeated; "got to look out for every +passage now, and I was used to her somehow, you see; and I haven't got +anybody else, and I wish in my heart she would come back again." + +"That, I am afraid," said the Vicar, "can never be; perhaps both you +and I, Mr. Powell, have forgotten too much that, while we are going +down the stream of life, the young people are going up, and are +building their own hopes and interests; and I called to-day to see +whether we could not agree--you and I--to think more of the young +people's happiness for the future, and less of our own ease or our own +sorrows." + +"It's very well for you to talk," said Essec Powell. "You are a rich +man--I am poor; everything you see here belongs to Shoni, and it is +very hard that Valmai should have all my brother's money, and I be left +with none." + +"I think it is hard," said Mr. Lewis Wynne, "and as my nephew will be a +very wealthy man, I am certain that he and his wife will be willing to +pay you every year the amount which you lost by your brother's will." + +"You think that?" said Essec Powell; "150 pounds a year--you think they +would give me that?" + +"I am sure they would; in fact, I can give you my word for it." + +"Well, indeed," he said, laying his book upside down carefully on the +table, "that will make me a happy man. I can soon pay off Shoni, and +then I can sleep at night without feeling that my servant is my master; +and, more than all, I can give all my time to my book that I am +writing." + +"What is it?" said the Vicar, no longer able to restrain his interest +in the old books which littered the table. + +"Well, it is the history of our own county from as far back as I can +trace it; and, oh! you wouldn't believe," he said, "how many +interesting facts I have gathered together. I was not meant for a +preacher, and I am getting too old and worn-out to travel about the +country. I would like to give up preaching and spend all my time with +my books. And with 150 pounds a year! Why, I would be a prince +indeed!" + +"Well, you may tell your congregation next Sunday," said Lewis Wynne, +"that they had better take heed to their own ways now, for that you are +going to retire from the ministry." + +"And thank God for that," said Essec Powell; "it will be enough for me +to look after my own wicked ways. Indeed, I feel I am not fit to teach +others ever since I turned Valmai out of the house." + +"I see you have here 'Mona Antiqua,'" said the Vicar. "I have a copy +in very good preservation, and I am sure I might be able to give you a +good many interesting facts for your book gathered from some old MSS. +which I found stowed away in the old church tower." + +"Can you, now? can you, indeed?" + +And the two antiquarians bent with deep interest over the musty books +on the table. + +Two hours slipped away very pleasantly to the two old men before the +visitors took their departure. + +At the door Essec Powell held Lewis Wynne's hand for a moment. + +"Do you think the little gel will forgive me? and do you think the +young fellow will find her?" + +"Yes, I think he will; and if all he says of her be true, I am sure she +will forget and forgive the past. Of course, you had some excuse, in +the mystery and doubt surrounding her at the time." + +"Two hours you bin there," said Shoni, as they passed him in the yard. +"I wass just kom in to see if you wass all asleep. Good-bye, sir." + +He touched his hat respectfully to the Vicar; and as he returned to the +house to dinner he muttered to himself several times: + +"End of the world! I am sure of it! End of the world!" + + + +[1] Poor fellow. + +[2] Good-morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE VELVET WALK. + +"Are you going out so late, dear?" said Mrs. Power, as she crossed the +hall, where Gwladys was reaching a wrap from some hooks on the wall. + +"Yes, auntie, such a lovely evening--quite like spring; I can't resist +it. I will put on the cloak Valmai left, and I shall be quite warm." + +"Yes, and the very image of her," said Mrs. Power, looking after her +through the glass of the front door. + +It was one of those tender evenings that visit us sometimes at the +beginning of the year to remind us that spring is not far distant, and +to make us forget that the cold March winds are yet in store for us. +Gwladys drew the red hood over her head and walked briskly in the +direction of the lake, which lay buried in the fir wood behind the +house. + +The path which led towards it was called "The Velvet Walk," being +overgrown with a carpet of moss. The sun had just set, and the pale +blue sky was cloudless and serene as on a summer evening; but here, in +the shadow of the trees, the darkness was falling fast. + +Over the fir tree tops one golden star hung like a jewel in the sky. +Gwladys walked with face upturned and eyes fixed upon its sparkling +brilliancy, and so lost was she in admiration of its beauty, that she +was quite unconscious of a hurrying figure who followed close upon her +steps. + +It was Cardo, who, as he walked along the drive towards the house, had +caught sight of a gleam of scarlet between the fir trees. + +"Valmai!" he said, with a bound of the heart, and a flood of love and +happiness taking the place of the anxious doubts which had filled him +since his return home. + +He hastened past the front of the house and entered "The Velvet Walk" +to find the scarlet cloak but a little way in front of him, and Valmai, +as he thought, walking with gaze upturned to the brilliant evening star. + +"At last, my darling!" he said, but softly, for he would surprise her. +He would approach nearer and call her name, and then she would turn, +and he would see the love-light in those starry eyes, of which he had +dreamed at night and longed for by day. He was close upon her, but his +footsteps made no sound on the velvet carpet. + +"Valmai!" he said at last, and stood with wide-open arms and a +rapturous smile on his lips. + +But at the sound of his voice the girl darted forward a few steps +before she turned round and faced the stranger. Her first look was of +astonishment and fright, immediately followed by one of indignation. + +"Valmai, my darling, I have frightened you," he said, but dropping his +arms and the smile dying out of his face; for before the girl had +opened her lips to speak, he saw the flush of indignation and the +haughty look which passed over her face. + +"Back!" she said, holding up her hand as if to keep him away; "not a +step nearer. And what if I am Valmai? What is she to you after all +these months of cruel neglect?" + +Cardo stood still. Was this the meeting he had pictured to himself a +thousand times? Had her troubles unhinged her mind? Was she +distraught? + +"What is it, Valmai, my darling, that has changed you so? What is that +cold, haughty look on your face? I am Cardo, dearest--your own Cardo! +come back to explain everything to you, and to clasp you in his loving +arms," and again he approached as if to embrace her. + +"Stand back," said Gwladys once more. "If you come a step nearer, I +will call for help from the house." + +"No, no," said Cardo, "do not do that. I will obey you, dearest; but +tell me what is the meaning of this change in you? Oh, Valmai! has +your love indeed perished? Have you forgotten the happy past, the +walks by the Berwen, the fortnight at Fordsea? I have been ill, +dearest--have lain unconscious for months in a hospital; but I swear +that, from the moment I left you until now, every conscious thought, +every fibre of my being, every chord of memory has been faithful to +you, and to you alone! Come and sit on this bench. Five minutes will +explain all to you, and I will not believe that my Valmai can have +become the cold and heartless girl you seem to be." + +But Gwladys continued standing, and looking at him with eyes in which +scorn and contempt were but too plainly visible. + +"Good heavens, Valmai!" said Cardo, with clenched hands, the cold sweat +breaking out on his face; "do you remember it is a man's very soul you +are trifling with? Do you know what a man's heart is? what his love +means--such love as mine?" + +"Such love as yours!" said Gwladys coldly. "Such love, indeed! that +could lead an innocent girl into the path of deceit and dishonour; that +could leave her then to bear desertion and the cold scorn of the world, +alone and friendless; and now to return, and expect to find her +unchanged and still blinded to the truth!" + +"Valmai!" said Cardo, his hot Welsh blood suffusing his dark face with +passion, "you could never have loved me. Do the strong bonds that +united us count for nothing? Does that little green mound in the +churchyard count for nothing? No! you never could have loved me; and +yet--you did!" + +"If I ever did," said Gwladys, "the love is dead. I feel no more +interest in you now than I do in yonder ploughman." + +"Girl, you are my wife," said Cardo, who was trembling with a mixture +of anger and wounded love. "You are mine by every law of God and man, +and I will not let you go." Then suddenly changing into a tone of +excited entreaty, he said, "Come, darling, trust me once more, and I +will bring back the light of love into those frozen eyes, and I will +kiss back warmth into those haughty lips." + +"Away!" said Gwladys. + +"Do you wish, then, never to see me again?" + +"Never!" she said. "My greatest wish is never to see you or hear of +you again!" + +Cardo sank on the garden seat, feeling himself more perfectly unmanned +than he had ever been before. He had built such fair castles of hope, +the ruin was so great; he had dreamt such dreams of happiness--and the +awakening was so bitter! + +Gwladys saw the storm of feeling which had overwhelmed him, and for a +moment her voice softened. + +"I am sorry for you," she said; "but I have given you my answer." + +The slight tone of tenderness in her voice seemed to restore Cardo to +life. He crossed the velvet path, and, laying hold of her hands, which +she in vain tried to wrest from his grasp. + +"You are mine!" he said, "and I challenge heaven and earth to take you +from me!" + +"It is base and dishonourable," said Gwladys, still struggling in his +grasp, "to frighten a friendless girl and force your presence upon her." + +But Cardo's grasp was suddenly relaxed. Dropping his arms at his +sides, and going back a step or two, he stood aside to let her pass. +His long-tried temper had over-mastered him, as with a scornful voice +he spoke for the last time. + +"One word before you go--dishonourable! not even _you_ shall call me +that twice. Some strange cloud is over you--you are not the same +Valmai that walked with me beside the Berwen. You cannot kill my love, +but you have turned it to-night into gall and bitterness. I will +_never_ intrude my presence upon you again. Go through life if you +can, forgetting the past; I will never disturb the even tenor of your +way. And if, in the course of time, we may cross each other's paths, +do not fear that I, by word or sing, will ever show that we have met +before." + +"I hold you to that promise," said Gwladys haughtily. And she passed +on in the deepening twilight, under the fir trees, Cardo looking after +her with an aching heart. + +She met Mrs. Power on the stairs. + +"You have been a long time, dear; I hope you haven't taken cold." + +"Oh! no, I will be down directly; it must be near dinner-time." + +She walked steadily up the broad staircase, and into her own room; but +once there, she threw herself on the couch, and buried her face in the +cushions. + +"Oh! Valmai, my sister!" she sobbed, "what have I not borne for you +to-night! I have kept to my determination; but oh! I did not know it +would be so hard! You shall never more be troubled with this man; you +are beginning to find peace and joy in life, and you shall never again +be exposed to his cruel wiles. But oh! Valmai, having seen him I +forgive you; he can pretend to be passionately and truly in love with +you! but he is false, like every other man! He left you in despair and +disgrace; or what did he mean by 'the little mound in the churchyard'? +Oh! Valmai, what have you suffered? But now I have saved you, darling, +from further temptation from him. God grant my cruel deception may +bear good fruit for you, my sister!" + +It was late on the evening of the next day when Cardo reached Caer +Madoc, and, hiring a carriage from there, was driven over the old +familiar road to Abersethin. The wind blue keenly over the brown, bare +hills, the grey clouds hurried from the north over the pale evening +sky, one brilliant star shone out like a golden gem before him. Once +he would have admired its beauty, now the sight of it only awoke more +poignantly the memory of his meeting with Valmai in the "Velvet Walk," +and with a frown he withdrew his gaze from it. Here was the spot where +he had first seen her! here was the bridge upon which they had shared +their ginger-bread! and oh! cruellest of all sounds, there was the +Berwen gurgling and lisping below, as though there were no breaking +hearts in the world! + +On the brow of the hill they saw the lights of Brynderyn. + +"I will get out here," he said; "you need not drive down these rough +roads; I shall enjoy the walk." And as he paid his fare, the driver +wondered "what had come to Mr. Cardo Wynne, who was used to be such a +jolly young man! That voyage to Owstrallia done him no good whatever!" +And as he turned his carriage round, he muttered to himself, with a +shake of his head, "I heard some odd story about him and that purty +young niece of Essec Powell's the preacher." + +Arrived at Brynderyn, Cardo found his father and uncle and aunt seated +round a blazing fire in the old parlour, which had not looked so +cheerful for years. They had been recalling old memories and events of +the past, and when Cardo's footsteps were heard in the passage, they +turned with expectant eyes towards the door. When he entered the room, +pushing his fingers through his hair as was his habit, he was silent +and grave. + +"Well, well!" said the whole party at once, "have you found Valmai?" + +"Yes, father, I have found my wife," he answered, in measured and +serious tones; "but she is unforgiving, and refuses to have anything +more to say to me. In fact, I have heard from her own lips that she no +longer loves me! There is nothing more to be said. I have come back +to my old home, to work again on the farm, to try to pick up the +threads of my past life, and to make your life happier for my presence." + +"Cardo, my dear boy," said the old man, rising as if in reverence for +his son's grief, "is this possible? I do indeed feel for you." + +"Oh, nonsense," said Lewis Wynne, "it is only a lover's quarrel; you +will make it up before long. I will go to the girl, and make it all +right for you." + +"If you wish to do me a kindness, uncle, and you, too, dear aunt, you +will never mention the subject to me or to anyone else. It is a thing +of the past; let us bury it out of sight and hearing." + +"We will do what you wish, my dear boy; but I am afraid, amongst these +gossiping villagers, you will often hear the subject alluded to in joke +or in earnest." + +"Oh! I quite expect that," said Cardo, with an attempt at a laugh, but +it was a sorry attempt. "I am not going to play the _role_ of a +love-sick swain, my grief will be buried too deep for a careless touch +to reach it, and I hope I shall not forget I am a man. I have also the +comfort of knowing that my sorrow is the consequence of my misfortunes +and not of my faults." + +Soon things seemed to fall into the old groove at Brynderyn, as far as +Cardo and his father were concerned, except that that which had been +wanting before, namely, a warm and loving understanding between them, +now reigned in both their hearts, and sweetened their daily +intercourse. The west parlour and all the rooms on that side of the +house, which had been unused for so many years, were opened up again, +and delivered over to the care of Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Wynne, who kept +their own establishment there, thus avoiding the necessity of +interfering with Meurig Wynne's eccentric habits, and still enabling +them to meet round the cheerful hearth in the evening, or whenever they +chose. + +As for Cardo, he threw all his energies into the busy work of the +farm--the earliest in the field in the morning, the latest to leave it +at night, nothing was too small for his supervision, no work was too +hard for him to undertake; and though he declared he was well, quite +well, still, it was evident to those around him that he was overtaxing +his strength. The flashing light had gone out of those black eyes, the +spring from his gait, the softness from his voice. He paid frequent +visits to Nance's cottage, always returning across the corner of the +churchyard. The stone-cutter had kept his promise, and had added the +surname of "Wynne" on the little cross, and Cardo read it over and over +again, with a sort of pleasurable sorrow. The banks of the Berwen he +avoided entirely, the thought of wandering there alone was intolerable +to him. Every bird which sang, every flower that nodded at him, the +whispering river, everything would ask him, "Where is Valmai?" And +what answer could he give to his own aching heart which echoed the +question, "Where is Valmai? Gone--worse than gone! changed, she whom I +thought was the counterpart of my own unchangeable nature. No, no, +anywhere but by the banks of the Berwen!" And he plodded on at his +work, doing his best to regain the placid calmness, though not the +bright joyousness of his life, before he met Valmai. But in vain; the +summer found him languid and depressed in spirits. It was Shoni who +first suggested to him the idea of a change of scene and companionship. +A strange friendship had grown up between these two men. Shoni had +been kind and tender to Valmai in her sorrow, and seemed to belong to +the bright, happy past which was gone for ever. + +"Where that Mr. Gwynne Ellis wass ussed to be with you at Brynderyn? +Very good sort, indeed! Why you not go and stop with him a bit, and +bring him back here with you?" + +Cardo thought the matter over silently, while Shoni whittled a stake +for a hay band. + +"I think I will, Shoni; I feel I must go away from here for a time." + +"Yes, you so rich there's no need for you to work like you do." + +"No--that's the worst of it," said Cardo; "I feel my hard work is +benefiting nobody." + +"Iss, benefit you, cos it help to fill your mind." + +"Yes, but I am tired of myself," and Cardo heaved a deep sigh. "Well, +it's no use grumbling and grunting, Shoni, and if you don't see me +about next week you will know where I am gone to." + +"Yes--but, indeed, I am thinking Essec Powell will miss you. He think +now s'no one like you in the world, 'he help me a lot, Shoni,' he say, +'with his Latin and his Greek,' and the Vicare, he says, 'it wass +wonderful how many books he got on his shelfs!' and indeed I think," +continued Shoni, "the two old men will live much longer now they got +their noses over the same old book so often!" + +"I hope so," said Cardo, "and I am glad to think that the provision we +have made for him has taken the sting out of his brother's 'will.'" +And he went homewards as broad-shouldered and as handsome as ever, but +not whistling or humming as was his wont. + +His father, who saw how utterly his son was failing in his endeavour to +regain his peace of mind, fell in with his proposal of a visit to +Gwynne Ellis with great willingness. + +"The very thing, Cardo, and bring him back with you if you can; he was +a nice fellow on the whole in spite of his radical ideas." + +Once more Cardo took his way from Caer Madoc to the little wayside +station which connected that secluded neighbourhood with the busy, +outside world. He had written to Gwynne Ellis to inform him of his +coming, and had received a warm and welcoming answer to his letter. + +"Come, my dear fellow; I shall be delighted to receive you in my +diggings, and bring some of the poetry and charm of your lovely +neighbourhood with you if you can, for this place is flat, and dull, +and gray. But, by the by, I haven't told you I am likely to be removed +very soon to a good, fat living, old boy, near Monmouth--but I will +tell you all about it when we meet." + +Gwynne Ellis's present abode was on the borders of Gloucestershire, and +here Cardo found him waiting for him at the station. + +"It's only a mile, and I thought you would like a walk, so I have told +the boy to fetch your luggage in the donkey cart." + +"A walk will be very acceptable after sitting all day cooped up in a +railway-carriage." + +"Well, now, tell me all about your wife. You know I have heard nothing +since that one letter you wrote after you turned up again. What +adventures you have had, my dear fellow! and wasn't Valmai overjoyed to +see you back again?" + +"No, Ellis, and that is all I can say to you now. It is a long story, +and I would rather wait until later in the evening." + +"All right, old fellow, in the smoking-room to-night." + +And in the smoking-room that night they sat late, Cardo opening his +heart to his friend, recounting to him the tale of his unfortunate +illness in Australia, his return home, and the unexpected blow of +Valmai's unrelenting anger and changed feelings towards him, +culminating in her utter rejection of him, and refusal to live with him. + +"Astounding!" said Gwynne Ellis, "I will not believe it. It is a moral +impossibility that that loving nature and candid mind, could ever so +change in their characteristics, as to refuse to listen to reason, and +that from the lips of one whom she loved so passionately, as she did +you." + +"That is my feeling," said Cardo, "but alas! I have her own words to +assure me of the bitter truth. 'If I ever loved you,' she said, 'I +have ceased to do so, and I feel no more love for you now, than I do +for yonder ploughman.' In fact, Ellis, I could not realise while I was +speaking to her that she was the same girl. It was Valmai's lovely +outward form, indeed, but the spirit within her seemed changed. Are +such things possible?" + +Ellis puffed away in silence for some seconds before he replied: + +"Anything--everything is possible now-a-days; there is such a thing as +hypnotism, thought transference--obsession--what will you? And any of +these things I will believe sooner, than that Valmai Wynne can have +changed. Cheer up, old fellow! I was born to pilot you through your +love affairs, and now here's a step towards it." And from a drawer in +his escritoire he drew out an ordnance map of the county of Monmouth. + +"Now, let me see, where lies this wonderful place, Carne Hall, did you +call it? I thought so; here it is within two miles of my new church. +In a month I shall be installed into that 'living,' and my first duty +when I get there shall be to find out your wife, Cardo, and to set you +right in her estimation." + +"Never," said Cardo; "she has encased herself in armour of cold and +haughty reserve, which not even your persuasive and cordial manners +will break through." + +"Time will show; I have a firm conviction, that I shall set things +straight for you, so cheer up my friend, and await what the wonderful +Gwynne Ellis can do for you. But you look very tired." + +"Yes, I will go to bed," said Cardo. + +"And to-morrow we'll have a tramp round the parish, and visit some of +the old fogies in their cottage. A mongrel sort, neither Welsh nor +English; not so interesting as your queer-looking old people down at +Abersethin. Good-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE MEREDITHS + +There is no part of Wales more rural and unspoilt by the inroads of +what is called "civilisation" than some of the secluded valleys lying +between the Radnorshire hills. Here Nature still holds her own, and +spreads her pure and simple charms before us. Large tracts of moor and +rushy fen are interspersed with craggy hills, rising one behind another +in lovely shades of purple and blue; and far from the haunts of men, or +at all events of town men, many acres of uncultivated land are still +tenanted by the wild mountain pony and the picturesque gipsy. On the +edge of one of these moors stood a quaint old family mansion, +surrounded by extensive grounds and woods. In front lay a descending +plain of varied beauty, green meadows, winding streams, and placid +lakelets; behind it, the wild vales and moor stretched up to the brown +and blue hills. + +Colonel Meredith had lived there all his life, his ancestors before +him, and here it was that Valmai had found a home as companion to the +delicate eldest daughter of the family, who was delighted to find in +her so congenial a friend. Her beauty had made a great impression upon +the whole amiable family, as good looks often do upon people who cannot +boast of the same advantages. It was a good thing that the girl had no +vanity in her character, for her charms were continually brought before +her in the household. Her pet name was "Beauty," and Colonel Meredith +was fond of dilating upon her attractions of person wherever he went. +Cecil, a boy of sixteen, was completely her slave, and considered +himself the victim of a hopeless passion; while the girls vied with +each other in their love and adulation of their friend, so Valmai led +at least an outwardly calm and happy life. Her character had developed +rapidly during the last two years, and she found herself, to her own +surprise, possessed of a power of repression and a control over her +emotions which she would have thought impossible a few years earlier. +The memory of Cardo, the glamour of their rural courtship, the bliss of +their honeymoon, his departure and her subsequent sorrows, were kept +locked in the deepest recesses of her soul, and only recalled during +the silent hours of the night. She had become less impatient of the +stripes of sorrow; she had taken the "angel of suffering" to her heart +with meek resignation, endeavouring to make of her a friend instead of +an enemy, and she reaped the harvest always garnered by patience and +humility. But forgotten? No, not a tender word--not a longing +wish--not a bitter regret was forgotten! She seemed to lead two +separate lives--one, that of the petted and admired friend of the +Merediths; the other, that of the lonely, friendless girl who had lost +all that made life dear to her. Gwladys's love alone comforted her, +and the frequent visits which they paid to each other were a source of +great happiness to both. Her invalid charge soon benefited much by her +presence, and was really so far recovered that there was scarcely any +further need for Valmai's companionship, but she was glad to stay on as +a visitor and friend of the family. She was reading to Miss Meredith +one evening in the verandah, when Gwen and Winifred came bounding up +the steps from the lawn, hatless and excited. + +"Oh, fancy, Beauty; we are going to have a visitor--a young man, too! a +friend of Dr. Belton's in Australia; he is travelling about somewhere, +and will come here to-morrow. Won't it be jolly? He writes to say he +is bringing a note of introduction from Dr. Belton, who wished him to +call and give us a personal account of him. I don't tell you, Mifanwy, +anything about it, because you are quite above these things; but Winnie +and I are looking forward to see Cecil's black looks when the stranger +falls in love with Beauty, which he will do, of course!" + +"When you stop to take breath I will ask a question," said the more +sober Mifanwy. "What is the young man's name?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Gwen. "Papa stuffed the letter in his pocket, +and he has driven off to Radnor, and won't be back till dinner +to-morrow evening. Probably he will drive the young man with him from +the station. Larks, isn't it? I hope he will be a good tennis player." + +And she waltzed down the verandah as she went. + +"What a girl!" said Mifanwy. + +Valmai smiled pensively. The word "Australia" had wakened sad +memories, which had to be controlled and driven back at once. + +"Let us go in; it is getting late for you," she said. + +And they passed through a French window into the unlighted drawing-room. + +The next evening Colonel Meredith returned, and, as Gwen had foretold, +brought with him the expected visitor. The girl ran excitedly into +Valmai's room. + +"He is awfully handsome, dear. I have just taken a peep at him through +the hall window as he alighted. He'll be seated opposite to you at +dinner, but _next_ to _me_, and I mean to make the best of my +opportunity. You'll see how charming I can be in spite of my plain +face." + +And off she went, singing as usual, to return in another moment and ask: + +"What dress are you going to wear, Beauty? That soft white cashmere? +Oh, you look sweet in that, but I bet you a button that I'll cut you +out to-night." + +As Valmai sat down at the dinner-table she was conscious that the +stranger sat opposite to her, and, looking across at him, met the eyes +of Cardo Wynne! + +A sharp spasm darted through her heart, for at the moment in which she +had met his gaze she had seen his look averted from her; and the +long-cherished hopes of months and faith in his constancy, held to +through so many discouraging circumstances, gave way at a glance, for +well she knew that Cardo had recognised her, and at the same moment had +avoided her eyes, and had turned to make a remark to his neighbour +Gwen. She bent her head over some trifling adjustment of her +waistband, while the hot flush of wounded love and pride rose to her +face, to give place to a deathly pallor as she realised that this was +the outcome of all her hopes and longings. + +Fortunately the pink tints of the lamp-shade hid her face, and equally +it befriended Cardo, for, on seeing before him Valmai in all the beauty +with which his imagination and his memory had endowed her, he had felt +his heart stand still and his face blanch to the lips. How he gained +sufficient self-control to make a casual remark to his neighbour he +never could understand, but he did; and while he was recalling the +scene in "The Velvet Walk," and his promise to Valmai "that should he +ever meet her again she need fear no sign of recognition from him," +Gwen chattered on with volubility. All he heard was: + +"Oh, you positively must fish, you know, for there is nothing else to +be done here. One day you must fish, next day you ride or drive, next +day you fish again; and that's all, except tennis. Winnie and I do +nothing else. In the evening Beauty sings to us, and there's +beautifully she sings. You'll be charmed with her voice--sweet, old +Welsh airs, you know--" + +"Hush, Gwen; stop that chatter. I want to ask Mr. Wynne something +about Dr. Belton." + +"Oh, papa! all the way from the station, and you didn't ask him about +Dr. Belton!" + +Cardo was thankful to have to talk to Colonel Meredith, for it enabled +him to turn his head aside, though still he was conscious of that white +figure opposite him, with the golden head and the deep blue eyes. + +She had regained her composure, and was talking calmly to the curate, +who was laying before her his plans for a Sunday school treat. It is +one of the bitter trials of humanity that it has to converse about +trifles while the heart is breaking. If only the tortured one could +rush away to some lonely moor, there to weep and wail to his heart's +content, the pain would not be so insufferable; but in life that cannot +be, and Valmai smiled and talked platitudes with a martyr's patience. + +In the drawing-room, after dinner, she buried herself in the old, red +arm-chair, setting herself to endure her misery to the bitter end. +When Cardo entered with Colonel Meredith, Cecil, and the curate, she +had passed from agonised suffering to the cold insensibility of a +stone. She knew she would wake again when the evening was over, and +she was alone with her sorrow; but now she had but to bear and wait. + +It would be impossible to describe Cardo's feelings; indeed, he felt, +as he entered the room, and saw that white figure in the crimson chair, +that he had already passed through the bitterness of death. + +"Nothing more can hurt me," he thought; "after this I can defy every +evil power to do me harm!" And he stood in his old attitude with his +elbow leaning on the mantelpiece, while he answered Gwen's frivolous, +and Winifred's sentimental, questions. + +"Are you fond of music?" one of them said at last. "Yes? Oh! Beauty, +dear, do come and sing to us--that sweet ballad you sing so often, you +know--'By Berwen Banks'." + +"Not to-night," said a soft voice from the armchair. "I am tired, +Gwen. You sing, dear." + +"Well, I'll sing that, if you won't." + +And she sang it; and Valmai and Cardo, "so near and yet so far," +estranged and miserable, listened to every word, which fell on their +memories like searing drops of molten lead. + + "By Berwen's banks my love has strayed + For many a day in sun and shade; + And when she carolled loud and clear + The little birds flew down to hear. + + "By Berwen's banks the storm rode high, + The swollen river rushing by; + And in its waves my love was drowned, + And on its banks my love was found. + + "I'll ne'er forget that leafy shade, + I'll ne'er forget that winsome maid; + But there no more she carols free, + So Berwen's banks are sad to me!" + + +At the last words, during the acclamations of the family, Valmai rose, +unable to bear more. There was a little cry and a soft fall by the +side of the red chair, and she lay in a white, unconscious heap on the +floor. + +"Oh! Beauty, darling!" cried Gwen and Winifred, in a breath, while +they flew towards her. + +Cardo, too, had instinctively rushed towards the fallen figure. He +lifted her in his strong arms as though she had been a feather-weight. + +"Oh! thank you, Mr. Wynne," said Mrs. Meredith; "this way, please, to +her own room at once, where we can lay her on the couch." + +And with the whole family forming a _queue_ behind them, even the +curate standing on the mat at the bottom, Cardo bore her up the +staircase and into the room which Mrs. Meredith indicated. + +During a little distraction, caused by Gwen's pommelling of the sofa +cushions, Cardo for a moment lost control over his feelings, and he +pressed Valmai's form convulsively to his breast as he stooped to lay +her down on the couch. He was quickly edged away by the fluttering +womenkind who pressed round, each with her own restorative; a little +sigh from Valmai told him that she was already recovering, and casting +one lingering look of love on the white figure, he made his way +downstairs, and joined the other gentlemen, who had straggled back into +the drawing-room. He listened absently to the different conjectures as +to what had caused Valmai's faint. + +"Never knew her do such a thing before!" said Colonel Meredith. "Can't +think what it was; but I do remember once she burst into tears when she +was singing some old Welsh ballad--that very one, I think--yes--'By +Berwen Banks'--strange coincidence!" + +In a little while the ladies returned also. "She is all right now," +they said, "and quite ashamed of herself; she has had a glass of wine +and a biscuit, and insisted upon our leaving her--in fact, she turned +us all out of the room and bolted the door." + +"Isn't she a lovely girl, Mr. Jones?" + +"Oh! yes, indeed--yes--very, indeed!" and Mrs. Meredith was delighted +to have an excuse for dilating on her visitor's charms of person and +character; while Cardo set himself to work to deliver himself of every +message which Dr. Belton had entrusted to him. + +He bore Colonel Meredith's cross-examination with unflinching patience, +and even suggested fresh topics of inquiry, for, while he had carried +Valmai up the stairs he had come to the determination to leave the +house before he saw her again. The strain of the situation was more +than he could bear. To live under the same roof with her, and not to +claim her for his own was impossible--to adhere to the terms of his +promise, never to allude to his former acquaintance with her was +utterly beyond his power. "Base--dishonourable!" Could it have been +Valmai who spoke to him in these terms? or was he the victim of some +strange hallucination? + +When at last the evening came to an end, he thankfully lighted his +candle at the hall table, the whole family hovering round with various +hopes that "he would sleep well," "that he didn't mind a feather-bed," +"that he didn't mind the sun shining in in the morning." "You can +close the shutters, you know. Good-night." + +"What time does the post come in the morning?" he asked. + +"Oh! at seven o'clock; you can have your letters brought up if you +wish; but we always like to have them on our plates at breakfast. Bob +will bring yours up." + +"If it's no trouble," said Cardo. + +There was a whole chorus of "certainly not!" "of course not!" under +cover of which he made his way safely round the turning on the +stair-case. He stepped wearily up the second flight of stairs; there +was her room! and he groaned almost audibly as he turned into his own. + +Inside that bolted door, a listening ear had caught every vibration of +his footstep, every tone of his voice, and a tear-stained face was now +raised in agonised prayer, over folded hands which held in their clasp +a ring hung on a white satin ribbon. + +The exclamations of disappointment and regret next morning, when +Cardo's empty seat at the breakfast table disclosed their guest's +absence, were loud as they were sincere. + +"How unfortunate!" said Colonel Meredith. "I meant to have taken him +out fishing to-day; there was a little rain in the night and the Ithon +would have been perfect for trout to-day. Here's his note:-- + +"DEAR COLONEL MEREDITH--I am grieved to say that some unexpected +circumstances necessitate my leaving your hospitable roof and returning +home to Cardiganshire at once. I shall walk to the station and catch +the 7.30 train. Please tender my heart-felt thanks to Mrs. Meredith, +and all the other members of your family for their kindness and +hospitality. I hope to call upon them at another time, and express my +regrets and thanks in person. + +"With many thanks to you also, + + "I remain, + + "Yours truly, + + "CARADOC WYNNE." + + +Colonel Meredith was reading the last words as Valmai entered and took +her place at the breakfast table. + +"Isn't it a shame, Beauty," said Gwen. "Just as I was beginning to +make a favourable impression upon him, too! There must have been +something in the letter Bob took up to him this morning." + +"Oh, of course," said her father; "fine young fellow--very!" + +"Awfully handsome, I call him," said Winifred; "such a sparkle in his +eyes!" + +"Beauty wasn't smitten," said Gwen. + +"On the contrary, she was so smitten she fainted," said Winnie; "you +are still rather pale, dear. Papa, wouldn't it be a jolly day for a +picnic by the Ithon?" + +"Yes," said the Colonel; "bring your lunch down in the brake, and we'll +light a fire by the carn, and broil the fish, for I am sure we shall +get a basketful to-day--eh! eh! Cecil?" + +"Yes--and the drive will do Miss Powell good," said the lad, who was in +good spirits from having so easily got rid of Cardo. + +And after breakfast they all drove off to the picnic, and Cardo's +arrival and his departure were forgotten by all save one. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +GWLADYS. + +The week that followed Gwynne Ellis's induction to his new living had +been too full of business to allow him to call upon his near +neighbours, the most influential member of his congregation, Mrs. +Besborough Power of Carne Hall; but soon afterwards he began to look +around him and make acquaintance with his parishioners. + +The Vicarage was large and his ideas of furnishing were limited, so +that after arranging and rearranging every room in the house he still +looked at them with a dissatisfied air. + +"I don't know how it is, father; in spite of all this handsome +furniture you have given me, there seems something wanting, doesn't +there?" + +"Don't see it," said the old man, "unless it is that wonderful piece of +furniture--a wife--you want." + +"Perhaps, but that will have to wait," and as he drew his handkerchief +over the shining face of the sideboard he thought within himself, +"Where shall I find one? There are not two Valmai's in the world, and +I declare she has spoiled me for every other woman. By the by, I must +call on Mrs. Besborough Power, and see if I can't bring her visitor +into a better frame of mind." + +The next day saw him entering the pleasant drawing-room at Carne Hall, +where Mrs. Power was as usual dozing in her arm-chair, with a piece of +wool-work in her hand, upon which she sometimes worked a few stitches +while she purred a little remark to Gwladys, who sat nearer the window, +making believe to work also. She had already remarked, "Auntie, this +is the new Vicar, I am sure," when the door opened and Gwynne Ellis +entered. + +Having shaken hands with Mrs. Power, he turned to Gwladys with a smile +of greeting. + +"Valmai!" he said, "I beg pardon--Mrs.--" + +"No," said Gwladys, drawing herself up, "I am Gwladys Powell, Valmai's +sister--but do you know her?" + +"Know her? well!" said Gwynne Ellis; "but I have never seen such an +extraordinary likeness." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Power, "they are twins, and apart, it is almost +impossible to distinguish one from the other." + +"Where is she?" he asked, "is she here?" + +"No," answered Gwladys, "she has been here, but is now staying with +some friends of ours in Radnorshire." + +"Ah! I see, I am sorry; I should like to have seen her, but I can +scarce say I miss her while you are present, for I certainly see no +difference between you." + +Gwladys was more talkative than usual. She and Mrs. Power were +pleasantly impressed, and congratulated themselves upon having gained +an agreeable addition to their very limited social circle in the person +of their new Vicar. + +"This is a charming neighbourhood. I saw by a little glint of +sunshine, as I came up the drive, that you have a pond or lake in that +firwood; and that is always tempting to an artist. Do you draw, Miss +Powell?" + +"Yes," said Gwladys. "My efforts are very humble, but I have one +drawing of the lake." And she fetched it from a portfolio. + +"Show him all your drawings, dear," said Mrs. Power; "or, better still, +would you like to see the lake, Mr Ellis?" + +"If it would not tire Miss Powell to show it me--" + +"Oh, no! I can take you by it to the west gate, it will shorten your +way home." + +"But not yet, here is tea," said Mrs. Power; and they were soon +chatting over all the parish news. + +At last Ellis rose to go, and Gwladys, putting on a broad-brimmed straw +hat, passed out before him through the window--Mrs. Power detaining +them with endless directions as to where to stop, where to turn to look +at the sun through the fir trees, where to look back for a view of the +house, etc., etc. + +"This walk is lovely," said Ellis, as he watched the graceful movements +of his companion, who glided over the velvet carpet of moss with +noiseless footsteps, reminding him of a guardian spirit who walked +silently beside some hum-drum man of the world. + +"I wonder Valmai never mentioned you to me," she said. + +"Did she not?" he asked thoughtfully. "Did she never mention +Abersethin, Brynderyn, and the Berwen?" + +"No, they are all strange names to me, except Abersethin; she lived +there after her return from Patagonia." + +Ellis was lost in thought again. "I should like to have seen her; I +have something important to discuss with her." + +"She is coming here the week after next, and then you can speak to her +about this interesting subject," said Gwladys. + +And Ellis thought he saw a look of displeasure on the lovely face. +Certainly he had never seen that in Valmai; but then, on the contrary, +there was a high-souled nobility of purpose in his present companion's +looks which was absent in Valmai. + +"I daresay when I have seen her she will tell you about all these +places." + +"My sister shall do as she pleases," said Gwladys, a sweet smile +chasing away the momentary look of anger; "it will make no difference +in our love for each other--she is part of me, and the best part; I am +part of her, and the worst part." + +When they reached the west gate, both were surprised to find that +half-an-hour had slipped away. + +"I will bring my portfolio," said Ellis, as he took his leave, "and you +will help me to find the best view of the lake." + +During the next fortnight, Mrs. Power received frequent calls from the +new Vicar; she was delighted with her neighbour, and did everything in +her power to make his visits as pleasant to him as they were to +herself. His paintings were a never-ending source of interest and +admiration to her, and when he proposed to make a sketch of the lake, +with its background of fir trees, and glint of blue sky, she was +charmed with the idea, and almost every day she and Gwladys accompanied +him down the "Velvet Walk" and settled him to his painting, and Gwladys +was sent on frequent journeys of inspection during the afternoon. + +"Go and see how he is progressing, dear." And she would go and linger +over the picture with comments and praise; but it must be confessed +that the drawing progressed more rapidly during her absence than during +these visits of inspection. + +One afternoon she came running down the "Velvet Walk" with an open +letter in her hand, and a distressed look in her eyes. + +"Oh, Mr. Ellis! such a disappointment! Valmai is not coming this week. +She has been feeling unwell lately, and the doctor advises a thorough +change for her, so she and Mifanwy Meredith are thinking of going to +Switzerland. Hear what she says:--'Mifanwy is longing for the Swiss +lakes and mountains, and wishes me to accompany her. I suppose I may +as well do so; but I must first make a hurried journey down to +Abersethin, and to see you on my way back. I hear from Dr. Francis +that dear old Nance is very ill, and it will depend upon how I find her +whether I go to Switzerland or not." + +"Now, isn't that vexing! You would feel for me if you knew what Valmai +is to me! I seem to love her with all the accumulation of love which +had missed its object for so many long years before we met." + +Gwynne Ellis was looking seriously into the distance. + +"I do feel for you, Miss Powell; but don't think me a brute if I say I +am not sorry she's gone--something good may come of it." + +"I can't understand you," she said, seating herself on a log in front +of him. "You have never told me how you became acquainted with her. +Have you known her from childhood?" + +"Oh, dear, no," said Ellis, laying aside his painting, and stretching +himself on the mossy bank. "I will tell you all about it; it is very +simple. Being rather out of health about two years ago, I went down to +Abersethin to stay at the Vicar's house, he being an old friend of my +father's. I found his son, Caradoc Wynne, a fine fellow--a splendid +specimen of a Welsh country gentleman--and he and I became great +friends during the three months that I spent there." + +Gwladys's blue eyes opened in astonishment. + +"Caradoc Wynne?" she said, in an anxious tone, which surprised her +companion. + +"Yes. Generally known as Cardo Wynne at Abersethin. I found him over +head and ears in love with Valmai Powell--your sister, it seems, though +I had no idea she had a sister. His rhapsodies about her amused me at +first; but when I saw how deeply in earnest he was, I sympathised with +him, and took a great interest in the progress of their courtship. His +father and her uncle--one being the Vicar of the parish, and the other +a Methodist preacher--hated each other with a deadly hatred--but you +are looking pale," he said anxiously. "What is it? Am I saying +anything to disturb you?" + +"Oh, yes! but go on. Tell me about this Cardo Wynne." + +"Well, it's a sad story. They were married; I married them without the +knowledge of the two opinionated old men--I hope I sha'n't fall too low +in your estimation, Miss Powell." + +"Oh! no, no! go on, please. Every word you say is like water to a +thirsty man. They were married?" + +"Yes, safe enough; and straight from the church porch they separated, +for he was leaving for Australia that afternoon at his father's earnest +request, with the idea of making peace between him and a brother whom +he had offended many years ago. Well, I heard no more of Cardo for +nearly two years, when I received a letter from him from Australia, +telling me of the series of misfortunes which had detained him there so +long. First of all, a serious attack of typhoid fever, and a blow on +the head which occasioned concussion of the brain. He was carried +unconscious to a hospital, and remained there many months, utterly +oblivious of all around him, as no operation had been attempted on his +skull, nobody knowing of the blow he had received. One of the visiting +doctors at the hospital took him home with him as an 'interesting +case,' and then he discovered the indented bit of bone which was +pressing upon the brain, and causing first the unconsciousness, and +afterwards a complete lapse of memory. Poor old Cardo! the jolliest +fellow in the world. What must he have felt when memory returned after +a successful operation, and he realised that Valmai and his father were +utterly ignorant of his whereabouts." + +"Oh, stop, stop," said Gwladys, "oh! what shall I do? Mr. Ellis, I +dread to hear the end, and yet I must; go on, please." + +"Well, it's very sad. Poor old Cardo returned home at once, and +finding Valmai gone from Abersethin made his way up here. Did you see +him?" + +Gwladys could scarcely gasp "Yes!" + +"Then no doubt you know how she repulsed him, and taunted him with +wilful desertion of her--desertion, indeed! that honest Cardo, whose +very soul was bound up in her! Had I not heard it from his own lips, I +could never have believed that Valmai would have used the words 'base +and dishonourable' to Cardo Wynne. He is broken-hearted, and really, +if she perseveres in this unwarranted indignation, I think it will kill +him; and that is why I wanted to see her, for I still believe there +must be some mistake." + +"Mistake! yes, yes, a horrible mistake. She never saw him at all. It +was I who spoke those cruel words to him!" + +"Miss Powell! you! how can I believe such a thing?" + +"Yes, yes, you must believe," she said, wringing her hands, "it is I +who have broken my sister's heart--the sister whom I would die to save +a moment's pain." And she rose to her feet, though her limbs trembled +with excitement. "It is my turn now to tell my story, and when I have +finished you will despise me, and you will have good reason." + +"Never!" he said, "I can never feel anything towards you but--but--what +I must not dare to tell you." + +A vivid blush swept over Gwladys's face; but the troubled look +returned, as Ellis, gently taking her hand, led her back to the log of +wood, and sitting beside her, said: + +"Now, tell me everything." + +"I must go a long way back," she said, "and begin with my own +uninteresting affairs. You know that Mrs. Power looks upon me as her +own daughter, and has expressed her intention of leaving me all her +money. Money! hateful money! the one thing I never cared about. I +should be happier far in a little cottage than I am here surrounded by +all these luxuries--it is true, Mr. Ellis, my tastes are simple." + +"Certainly, you would grace a cottage or a palace alike," he said, +almost under his breath; "but we must all accept the position in which +we are placed, and do our best in that." + +"Well," resumed Gwladys, "I have had three proposals of marriage, and +on each occasion my aunt pressed me to accept the offer. I refused to +do so, unless I were allowed time and opportunity to make the most +exhaustive inquiries as to my disinterested lover's antecedents. My +heart not being touched, I was able to do so dispassionately, and in +each case I discovered something dishonourable in their characters. +One I found was on the brink of pecuniary ruin, I therefore considered +I had a right to think he loved my fortune and not myself. The next, +though a man of honour and probity, I found had such an ungovernable +temper that his own sisters failed to live with him. The third was a +widower. He had broken his wife's heart by his cruelty, and since her +death his life had been one long scene of dissipation. Was it any +wonder that I rejected them all? and learnt to distrust and almost to +hate every man? + +"When Valmai came here I soon found out enough of her story to prove to +me, as I thought, that she had been weak where I had been strong; that +she had given her heart, with all its precious love, to one of the same +type of manhood as it had been my ill-fortune to meet; and when, one +evening as I walked here by the lake, a young man followed me and +addressed me as Valmai, the only feeling that rushed into my mind and +possessed my whole being might be expressed in these words--'Here is +the murderer of my sister's happiness; at any risk I will keep him from +her. She is happy and calm now; he shall never again disturb her peace +of mind, if I can help it.' + +"He was so completely under the illusion that I was Valmai that I had +no occasion to tell a lie, and I only spoke the truth when I told him +that I hated him, and that my greatest desire was never to see his face +again. He was wounded to the quick. I saw it, I realised it all, and, +oh, I felt for him, for there was something open and winsome about +him--something that tempted me to trust him; but I hardened my heart, +and I added him to my list of unworthy men. I left him here and went +into the house, feeling utterly miserable; but I comforted myself with +the thought that I had done Valmai good service. And now--oh, now!--I +am more miserable than ever; for I see what harm I have done. I meant +to do good, Mr. Ellis, believe me. I thought I was doing dear Valmai a +real kindness, and now what shall I do? I have ruined her hopes of +happiness, and I have lost your good opinion and friendship." + +"Never!" said Ellis. "I see exactly how you felt, and can enter into +your feelings thoroughly; it only grieves me to think what a low +opinion you have formed of men in general." + +"You see," said Gwladys, bending her head, "I have led such a retired +life, and have known so few men--none intimately, except those three." + +"Let me dare, then, to hope that in time you will come to believe that +all men are not like the miserable specimens whom you have met. Will +you believe that _I_, at least, am only _sorry_ to hear you will be so +rich? I cannot expect you to believe me, but it is the truth." + +"Yes, I believe you," she said. + +"Then let us see what we can do to retrieve your mistake. Will you +take my word for it that Cardo Wynne is all that is honourable and +true?" + +"Yes, oh, yes; I am sure he would not be your friend if he were not so." + +"Then the path is easy and plain before us. You will write to Valmai, +and I will write to Cardo, and the cloud that has darkened their path +lately will be swept away, and your hand and mine will be permitted to +let in the light." + +"I don't deserve such happiness," she said. + +Ellis felt tempted to say, "Yes, your deep love for your sister made +you do this, and it richly deserves this fulfilment of its endeavours," +but he did not, and the omission was noticed by Gwladys, but it did not +tell against him. + +They sat some time in silent thought, Gwladys's little foot tossing up +the moss. + +"I have not told auntie, but I should like to do so now." + +"I think you are right," said Ellis, gathering his painting +paraphernalia together; "let us go and tell her at once." + +There was something delightful even in the simple fact of "going +together" to tell Mrs. Power the story of Valmai's sorrow and Gwladys's +mistake, and when he left it was with the clear understanding that they +should not let a day pass without enlightening Cardo and Valmai. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +INTO THE SUNSHINE, + +There was quite a chorus of regrets and good-byes in the quiet little +country station from which Valmai started on her journey to +Cardiganshire. + +"Good-bye, Miss Powell," said Colonel Meredith, who had driven her down +to meet the train, accompanied by his whole family. "No one will +lament your absence or rejoice at your return more than I shall, not +excepting this sentimental young man," and he pointed to Cecil, who was +putting on an air of even greater dejection than usual. + +He did not deign to answer his father except by a look of indignation +that set Gwen and Winifred laughing; but when the train was absolutely +moving, he managed to secure the last hand-clasp, and leave a bunch of +forget-me-nots in Valmai's hand. + +"Good-bye, Beauty, darling," shouted Gwen; while all the others joined +in a chorus of "Write soon!" + +Valmai placed the flowers in her waistband with an amused smile. "Poor +boy," she thought. "What a good thing it rained last night; there will +be splendid fishing to-day in the Ithon, and he will forget all about +me if he gets his basket full." And she settled herself down +comfortably in the corner of the carriage, and proceeded to open a +letter which she had found on her plate at breakfast, but which she had +hitherto found no time to read. It was from Gwladys, she knew, but she +was somewhat astonished at its length, and turning over the leaves once +or twice saw it was very closely written and had many words underlined. +"What can it be about?" was her thought as she read the first words, +"My own beloved sister--" + +There was no one in the carriage to notice the varied expressions on +her face as she read the closely-written pages; but had anyone been +there to see the rapturous happiness which lightened up her features +and brightened her eyes as she drew towards the conclusion, they would +have wondered what joyful information could have so entranced and +delighted the girl who entered the carriage, although with a serene and +peaceful countenance, yet with a certain plaintive wistfulness in the +shadows of her blue eyes, which betokened no exemption from the +ordinary fate of mankind. But now! what unspeakable joy, what ecstatic +delight seemed to infuse fresh life and vigour to the fragile, graceful +form! For a few moments she crossed her hands on her bosom, and with +closed eyes remained silent; then, starting up and pacing backwards and +forwards in the limited space of a railway carriage, she gave the rein +to her delight and let her thoughts drop out in words of uncontrolled +expression. + +"Cardo, oh, Cardo! what happiness for me at last, and for you, +dearest--it shall be for you, too! Oh, I see it all. He sought me out +and found Gwladys, and the strong, strange likeness between us deceived +him, though I cannot think how that was possible. Did he not feel the +difference? Let me see--what does she say?" And again she read +Gwladys's repentant, beseeching words. "Can you ever forgive me, +darling? I tried to look as like you as possible, and I tried to be as +harsh as I could at the same time. 'If I ever loved you,' I said, 'I +have ceased to do so, and my greatest wish is never to see you again.'" + +"Oh! how dreadful," said Valmai, "how could he bear it? and how he must +have suffered since then; but I will make it all up to him, and now I +understand his conduct the other evening. Oh, you slow old puffing +engine, make haste, and take me to Blaenos Station, then there will be +a whole hour in that crawling coach, and then comes dear Caer Madoc! +and oh! it is market day. Cardo always drives in with Dr. Hughes on +that day, and walks home in the evening. I will walk! It will be like +that dear, happy night when we first met!" And at last her excitement +calming down, she settled herself again into her corner, and while she +sat silent and immovable, she followed out from beginning to end the +incidents of the last few weeks. Although Gwladys's mistaken +interference had caused her such deep sorrow, and such a bitter +experience as that of Cardo's avoidance of her at the Merediths, she +felt nothing but pity for the sister whom she knew would have +sacrificed life itself to save her from trouble. + +As the train sped onwards, between the blue hills and by the silver +streams, her thoughts outran its speed, and in fancy she saw Cardo +hurrying along the high road to meet her at Caer Madoc. And he as he +drove along beside Dr. Hughes, was full of tender longings and thoughts +of her. She seemed to fill the air around him, she seemed to press +upon his inner consciousness with such vividness, that he felt it +difficult to restrain his voice, and prevent himself from calling her +name aloud. + +At last, the evening shadows began to fall over sleepy Caer Madoc, and +Valmai, alighting from the coach in the "Red Dragon" yard, looked round +hurriedly. With her, too, the impression of Cardo's presence had been +so vivid, that she almost expected to see him waiting for her; but no +Cardo was to be seen! After leaving her luggage in the ostler's +charge, she hastened out through the old archway which opened into the +High Street. + +"No, I prefer walking, thank you; you can send my luggage on +to-morrow," she said to the kindly officious man, who followed her to +offer his services as driver, and she turned up the street with a heart +full of exultant hopes. Here were the last straggling houses that +reached up the hilly street, leading to the moor. Her steps were light +and springy, as she followed the familiar road, now almost deserted by +the last pedestrians returning from the market. The sun had set behind +the sea, which she already saw stretching away to the west, a soft grey +haze enfolded the hills which rose before her, and the moon was rising +to her right and blending her silver light with that of the departed +sun, which still left a golden glow over the west. Valmai walked on +steadily until she reached the first milestone, and sitting down beside +it, she rested awhile, almost hidden by its shadow. It was not one of +the modern insignificant, square-cut, stiff stones, but a solid boulder +of granite, one of the many strewn about the moor. She listened +breathlessly to the different sounds that reached her ears, sounds +which seemed to awake in the stillness, as she listened. There was a +faint and distant rumbling of wheels in the town behind her, and surely +some strains of music, which carried her back in memory to another +evening in the past! Down below the cliffs on her left she heard the +mysterious whispering of the sea; in the little coppice across the road +a wood-pigeon cooed her soft "good-night"; and away in the hay-fields, +stretching inland, she heard the corncrakes' grating call; but no human +footstep broke the silence of night. Surely Cardo would have gone to +market on such a lovely day! or, who knows? perhaps he was too sad to +care for town or market? But hark! a footstep on the hard, dry road. +She listened breathlessly as it drew nearer in the gathering grey of +the twilight. Steadily it tramped, tramped on, and peeping round the +milestone, Valmai at last saw a grey figure emerge from the haze. It +was Cardo, she felt sure, and rising at once, she hurried some distance +on the road in a sudden feeling of nervousness. The steady tramp, +tramp came ever nearer, and, looking through the increasing shadows, +she saw distinctly the well-remembered form, the broad shoulders, the +firmly-knit frame, and in a fresh access of nervousness she hurried on +again--putting off the moment of recognition which she longed for, and +endeavouring to reach a hollow in the high bank, where she might lie +hidden until she had regained courage and calmness. + +Meanwhile Cardo, who had driven in to the market with Dr. Hughes in the +morning, had started on his homeward journey just as Valmai was leaving +the town behind her. It had been a lovely day, he had had pleasant +company, and had transacted his business satisfactorily; but a deep and +settled gloom seemed to have fallen upon him, which he was powerless to +shake off. Through the whole tenor of his life ran the distracting +memory of Valmai's unrelenting anger in the Velvet Walk, and of the +bitterness of the subsequent meeting at Colonel Meredith's. As he +stepped along through the summer twilight, and saw the silver moon +which hung above him, his thoughts flew back to the first evening of +his acquaintance with her. Ah! how long ago it seemed, and yet how +everything pertaining to that evening seemed to repeat itself. There +were the strains of the militia band throbbing on the quiet evening +air, just as they did on that eventful evening; and there was even a +grey female figure hurrying before him as before, and Cardo smiled +bitterly as he thought how different everything was, in spite of the +curious "harking back" of all the small circumstances. Awaking from a +reverie, he missed the grey figure; but forgetting her at once, and +again absorbed in thought, he had passed the hollow in the bank, when a +soft voice followed him on the breeze. + +"Cardo!" + +Instantly he turned, and standing still as a statue, watched with +eagerness a grey form which seemed to rise from the hedge. He heard +his own heart beat loudly, and in the still night air he heard the +sough of the sea, and the harsh call of the corncrake. Again the voice +said, "Cardo!" very low and trembling. With one bound he was beside +the speaker, and in the light of the moon Valmai stood plainly +revealed. The sweet eyes glistened as of old, and the night breeze +played with the little curls of gold which escaped from their +restraining coiffure. She held out her hands, and in a moment Cardo's +strong arms were around her. + +"My wild sea-bird," he said, in a passionate whisper, "have you flown +back to me? Valmai, my darling, what does it mean? Have you forgiven +me? Have you repented of those cruel words, dearest? Oh, say it was +not my Valmai who called me 'base and dishonourable.' Speak dearest," +he said, while he showered kisses upon the uncovered head which leant +upon his breast. + +"It was not your Valmai, Cardo. How could you think it possible? It +was not I whom you saw in the Moss Walk. I did not know till to-day, +this very day, that those cruel words were spoken." + +"Let us sit here, my beloved; give me your hand; let me try to realise +this bewildering joy." And hand in hand they sat on the grassy bank, +while the corn-crake called, and the sea heaved and whispered behind +them. + +There, under the golden moon, with endless questions and reiteration of +answers, Valmai told her story and Cardo told his, until the moon rode +high in the sky. Again and again Cardo pressed her to his heart, and +again and again she took his brown hands in her own and laid her cheek +upon them. + +"Oh, Cardo! is it true? or is it all a dream? So suddenly to leave my +sadness and sorrow behind, and to awake to this blessed reality!" And +as they rose to pursue their walk together, Cardo drew her arm through +his, as if afraid for a moment to loosen his hold of her. + +"But your sister, dearest, is _not_ like you! How could I have been +deceived? How could I, for one moment, have thought my gentle darling +would say such cruel things? No, no! you are utterly unlike each +other, though so strangely alike." + +"Well, indeed, Cardo bach! when you know her you will see how sweet and +beautiful she is! how much wiser and more noble than I! It was her +great love for me, and her desire that I should be happy, that made her +act as she did; and to-morrow you must read her penitent letter, and +learn to forgive her, and to love her for my sake." + +"I will--I will, love; I will forgive anybody, anything, and will love +the whole world now that I have you back again. But oh, Valmai, my +beloved, how shall I ever make up to you for all you have gone through? +I know now you never received my letter written on the _Burrawalla_, +and sent by _The Dundee_, for I have heard of her sad fate. In that, +dearest, I retracted my request that you should keep our marriage a +secret, and you would have been saved all the sorrow you have borne had +you received it. But I will make up to you, dearest, if the devotion +of a lifetime can do so." + +"This is happiness enough to make up for anything," said Valmai; "and I +am glad I was able to keep my promise." + +"Faithful friend, and trustful wife!" answered Cardo. + +"Ah! no," continued Valmai; "I shall never regret having kept my +promise! Indeed, I never felt tempted to break it, except one day, +when, in the old church, I met your father face to face. Never shall I +forget the agonising longing I felt to throw myself at his feet and +tell him all, and mingle my tears with his." + +"He has told me all about it, love, and how he thought it was an angel, +when he first saw you standing there. But let us leave all tales of +sorrow for another day; to-night is for love only, for rapturous joy! +Are we not together, love? and what does anything else matter?" + +"Nothing, nothing," answered Valmai, in words which lost none of their +depth of feeling from being spoken in soft, low tones. + +In silence, which was more eloquent than words, they pursued their way +till they reached the bridge over the Berwen; and as they leant over +its side, and looked into the depths of the woods beneath them, they +recalled all the circumstances of their first meeting. + +"I wish I had bought some gingerbread in the Mwntroyd, Cardo, so that +we might eat it here together. Ah! how it all comes back to me!" + +And as they leant over the bridge he held her hand in his, and with +eyes which sought each other's in the moonlight, they let the time slip +by unheeded. The only sound that rose upon the still night air was the +babbling of the Berwen. + +When at last both had told their story, and every question and answer +had again and again been renewed, and all its side bearings and +suggestions had been satisfactorily explained, the sweet, lisping +sounds of the river flooded their souls with its music. + +"Oh, Cardo! to think we can once more sing together. How different to +that miserable evening at Colonel Meredith's, when you stood aloof, and +Gwen sang the dear old song. I thought it would kill me." + +"And I, darling, when I carried you up in my arms, what did I feel?" + +"Well, indeed, I don't know; but we have had a dreadful experience, +whatever." And presently Valmai began to hum "By Berwen Banks," Cardo +irresistibly joining in with his musical bass, and once again the old +ballad floated down the valley and filled the night with melody. + +"We ought to be going now, or we shall be shut out. I know Nance will +be gone to bed already, but, certainly, there is not much distance +between her bed and the door." + +"Nance!" said Cardo. "No, indeed, my wild sea-bird. I have caught you +now, and never again will I part with you. Home to Brynderyn, dearest, +with me, where my father is longing to fold you in his arms." + +"Anywhere with you, Cardo." And down by the Berwen they took their +way, by the old church, where the white owl hooted at them as they +passed, and down to the shore, where the waves whispered their happy +greetings. + +The "Vicare du," as he sat by his study fire that night, was lost in +thought. A wonderful change had come over his countenance, the gloom +and sternness had disappeared, and a softened and even gentle look had +taken their place. A smile of eager interest crossed his face as he +heard the crunching of the gravel, which announced his son's return. +Betto was already opening the door, and a cry of surprise and gladness +woke an echo in the old man's heart as he hurried along the stone +passage into the parlour. Cardo came in to meet him, leading Valmai, +who hung back a little timidly, looking nervously into the Vicar's pale +face. But the look she saw there banished all her fears, and in +another moment she was clasped in his arms, and in all Wales no happier +family drew round their evening meal that night than the Wynnes of +Brynderyn. + +There is nothing more to be said, except that Gwynne Ellis's letter +awaited Cardo's home-coming, and it shall speak for itself. + + +"DEAR WYNNE,--I write with such mixed feelings, and at the same time in +such a hurry to catch the first possible post, that probably you will +think my letter is a little 'mixed' too. You will guess what was my +astonishment, when calling upon Mrs. Power, to find--not Valmai, but +her twin-sister, Miss Gwladys Powell! My dear Wynne, I was struck dumb +by the likeness between them. I waited eagerly for Valmai's arrival, +which they were daily expecting, and it was not until I heard she was +going to Cardiganshire instead that I mentioned to Gwladys your +marriage to her sister, and the cruel manner in which she had received +you after your long absence. Then came the explanation, which, no +doubt, ere this you have received from Valmai's own lips, for I know +that to-morrow she will see you, having received her sister's letter in +the morning; and the veil will be lifted, and all your sorrow will +disperse like the baseless fabric of a dream. You will see already how +Gwladys, dreading your influence upon the sister whom she thought you +had deceived and deserted, was tempted, by your mistaking her for +Valmai, to impersonate her, and to drive you away from her presence. +Her sorrow and repentance are greater than the occasion demands, I +think, for, after all, it was her deep love for her sister which made +her act in this way; and I am sure that, when you and Valmai have been +reunited and all your joys return, you will have no room in your hearts +for anger against Gwladys. She is the most lovely girl I have ever +seen, except your wife, and her mind and heart are quite worthy of her +beautiful face; indeed, my dear Cardo, she is what I once thought was +not to be found--a second Valmai! In fact I love her, and I am not +without a faint hope that my love is returned. Remember me to Shoni, +and tell him I hope to see him again next spring. And what if I bring +Gwladys down, and we all roam by the Berwen together?--not Shoni! What +can I add more, except that I hope this delicious programme may be +carried out? + +"Yours as of old, + + "GWYNNE ELLIS." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY BERWEN BANKS*** + + +******* This file should be named 18758.txt or 18758.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/5/18758 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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