By Berwen Banks

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.'"