By Berwen Banks Part 22

"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, blus.h.i.+ng 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 Pembrokes.h.i.+re people."

"Well, how is he getting on?" said the old man, as Valmai entered blus.h.i.+ng.

"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 ladys.h.i.+p?"

"Oh, flirtation! Very well, uncle, good-night." And after a kiss and another "good gel," Valmai pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed the stile on Thursday (oh, that sad Thursday!)"--Cardo shared in the s.h.i.+ver 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 pa.s.sed, 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 s.h.i.+ne 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."