By Berwen Banks

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?"