By Berwen Banks

"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.