By Berwen Banks

With Cardo the hours slipped by quickly. His father had many last

directions to give him, and Betto had endless explanations to make.

"You will find your gloves in your pocket, Mr. Cardo, and your clean

handkerchiefs are in the leather portmanteau; but only six are by

themselves in the little black bag."

Gwynne Ellis had accompanied his friends to their lodgings at

Abersethin, and after breakfast returned to Brynderyn; they had all

been charmed with the bride's appearance.

"By Jove! Ellis," Chester had said, "I think I envy that Wynne in spite

of the parting. I have never seen such a lovely bride!"

"Any more pearls of the sort to be found in this out-of-the-way place?"

asked Wilson.

"No, I have seen none," said Ellis; "and I doubt if you will find one

anywhere," for he was an enthusiastic admirer of Valmai.

"I have quite enjoyed the part we have taken in this romantic little

affair--eh, Wilson?"

"Ra--ther!" he replied.

"But don't forget it is to be a dead secret," said Ellis, as he left

the door.

"Oh! honour bright!"

At two o'clock punctually Cardo and his father seated themselves in the

light gig, which was the only carriage the Vicar affected, and when

Betto had bid him a tearful good-bye, with all the farm-servants

bobbing in the background, Gwynne Ellis, grasping his hand with a warm

pressure, said: "Good-bye, Wynne, and God bless you! I shall look forward with great

pleasure to meeting you again when you return from Australia. I shall

stay here a week or two at your father's invitation."

"Yes," said the Vicar, in a wonderfully softened tone, "it would be too

trying to have the house emptied at one blow."

As they drove along the high road together and crossed the little

bridge over the Berwen Valley, the Vicar, pointing with his whip, drew

Cardo's attention to the stile beside the bridge.

"This is the stile which I saw Ellen Vaughan crossing the day I met

your mother waiting for her. I met my brother afterwards, and oh! how

blinded I was! But there, a man who is carried away by his passions is

like a runaway horse, which, they say, becomes blind in the eagerness

of his flight."

It was needless to call Cardo's attention to the stile. His first

meeting with Valmai was so intimately connected with it; and as he

crossed the bridge, he called to mind how they had shared their

gingerbread under the light of the moon.

"Perhaps you never noticed there was a stile there?" said the Vicar.

"Yes," said Cardo, turning round to take a last look at it and the

bridge, and--was it fancy, or did he see something waving in the wind?

For a moment he laid his hand on the reins with the idea of running

back to see, but "Jim" was fresh, and, resenting the check, swerved

uncomfortably aside.