Read Online Free Book

By Berwen Banks

Page 41

"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 plashing 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

blushing, 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 flourishing 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.

PrevPage ListNext