By Berwen Banks

"Little did I think, Valmai, it was you who had made everything look so

cosy and sweet for me--these flowers on the table and all those pretty

fal-lals on my dressing-table. Little did I think it was my little

wife who had prepared them all for me. But as I entered the front door

a strange feeling of happiness and brightness came over me."

"And I knew the first tone of your voice, Cardo. Oh, I would know it

anywhere--among a thousand."

There were innumerable questions for the one to ask and the other to

answer as they sat in the glowing firelight. First, there was the

description of the repairs required by Captain Owen's ship--"Blessed

repairs, Valmai!"--and the extraordinary special Providence which had

caused the ss. Ariadne to collide at midships with the Burrawalla,

and, moreover, so to damage her that Cardo's berth and those of the

three other inmates of his cabin would alone be disturbed by the

necessary repairs.

"Captain Owen thinks we shall be ready to sail in three days, so it is

not worth while writing to my father," said Cardo. "The thick fog

which looked so dismal as I drove into Caer Madoc with him--how little

I guessed it would culminate in the darkness which brought about the

collision, and so unite me with my beloved wife. Valmai, if Providence

ever arranged a marriage, it was yours and mine, dearest."

"But, Cardo--"

"'But me no buts,' my lovely white sea-bird. Nothing can alter the

fact that you are my own little wife."

"Yes, I know," said Valmai, "but if you love me as much as you say you

do, grant me one request, Cardo."

"A hundred, dearest; what is it?"

"Well, we have had to be deceitful and secret--more so than I have ever

been in my life. We could not help it; but now, here, let us be open.

Give me leave to tell my uncle the truth."

"Valmai! he will write at once to his brother, and the news will reach

my father, and it will break his heart to find I have deceived him.

No, let me be the first to tell him. I shall have no hesitation in

doing so when I return this time next year."

"But, Cardo, dear old Uncle John is quite a different sort of man to my

Uncle Essec or to your father. I know he would never, never divulge

our secret; he is kindness itself, and would, I know, feel for us. And

it would be such a comfort to me to know that we had been open and

above-board where it was possible to be so. Cardo, say yes."

"Yes, yes, yes, dearest, I know, I feel you are right, so tell him the

whole truth. Oh, how proud I should be to tell the whole world were it

possible, and how proud I shall be when I return, to publish abroad

my happiness. But until then, Valmai, you will keep to your promise of

perfect secrecy? for I would not for all the world that my father

should hear of my marriage from any lips but my own. You promise,

dearest?"