By Berwen Banks Part 10

"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 G.o.d, 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 fis.h.i.+ng 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 fis.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sage. "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 sh.o.r.e, 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 inrus.h.i.+ng 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 fis.h.i.+ng. 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 blus.h.i.+ng 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 plas.h.i.+ng 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 blus.h.i.+ng, 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 flouris.h.i.+ng 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 gla.s.ses 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 sh.o.r.e--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,