By Berwen Banks

Arrived on the door-mat of the little parlour, where Cardo Wynne was

coming to an end of a repast, which showed by its small remnants that

it had been thoroughly appreciated, Valmai fell into a tremor of

uncertainty. Was it Cardo? Yes, she could not be mistaken in the

voice; but how would he take her sudden appearance? Would he be glad?

Would he be sorry? And the result of her mental conflict was a very

meek, almost inaudible knock.

"Come in," shouted Cardo from within. Another pause, during which

Cardo said, "Why the deuce don't you come in?"

The door was slowly opened, and there appeared Valmai, blushing and

trembling as if she had been caught in some delinquency.

For a moment Cardo was speechless with astonishment, but not for long,

for, in answer to Valmai's apologetic, "Oh! Cardo, it's me; it's only

me, whatever!" she was folded in his arms, and pressed so close to his

heart that her breath came and went in a gasp half of fright and half

of delight.

"Gracious heavens! What does it mean?" he said, holding her at arms'

length. "My own little wild sea-bird! My little white dove! My

darling, my wife! Where have you flown from? How are you here?"

They were interrupted by a thundering knock on the floor above them.

Cardo started. "What is that?" he said.

Valmai laughed as she somewhat regained her composure.

"It is Uncle John," she said. "Wait while I run up to him, and then I

will come back and explain everything."

"Uncle John!" said Cardo in bewilderment, as he saw through the doorway

the graceful white figure flit up the narrow stairs. "Uncle John! Can

that be Captain Powell? Of course, old Essec's brother, no doubt. I

have heard they are Pembrokeshire people."

"Well, how is he getting on?" said the old man, as Valmai entered

blushing.

"Oh, all right, uncle! there isn't much of the fowl left, so I'm sure

he enjoyed it."

"That's raight, may gel, that's raight. Now make him as comfortable as

you can. May jar of tobacco is down there somewhere, and there's a

bottle of whisky in the corner cupboard. Ay hear Jim Harris coming to

the door; now don't disturb me any more, and tell Mr. Gwyn Ay'll be

happy to see him tomorrow. Now, mind, no larks."

"No what?" said Valmai, with puckered eyebrows.

"Larks, larks! Don't you know what 'larks' are, child? Ay bet you do,

with that pretty face of yours."

Valmai still looked puzzled.

"Well, 'high jinks,' then; flirtation, then; will that suit your

ladyship?"

"Oh, flirtation! Very well, uncle, good-night." And after a kiss and

another "good gel," Valmai passed Jim at the doorway, and went slowly

downstairs.

Cardo stood at the bottom awaiting her with wide open arms.