By Berwen Banks

"Valmai, sweet Valmai, I have left her; it could not be helped. I will

return to her on the wings of love as soon as I have fulfilled my

father's wishes." But a year--had he provided fully and properly for

her happiness during that time? Money, amply sufficient, he had left

in her uncle's keeping for her, as she had firmly refused to accept it

herself. "I shall not want it; I have plenty for myself. I have

twenty gold sovereigns in my little seal purse at home, and I shall

receive my next quarter's allowance soon. No, no, Cardo, no money

until we set up house-keeping," and he had acceded to her wishes; but

had, unknown to her, left a cheque in her uncle's keeping. "Why did I

claim from her that promise of secrecy? What if circumstances might

arise which would make it impossible for her to keep it?" He knew that

having given her promise to him, she would rather die than break it.

He had acted the part of a selfish man, who had no thought, but of his

own passionate love; the possible consequences to her had not before

occurred to his mind. But now, in the stress of the storm, while the

thunder rolled above him, and the lightning flashed over the swirling

waters, everything seemed clear and plain. He had done wrong, and he

would now face the wrong. Their happy meeting at Fordsea, as blissful

as it was unexpected, might be followed by times of trouble for

Valmai--times when she would desire to make known her marriage; and he

had left her with an embargo upon her only means of escape out of a

difficulty. Yes, the path was plain, he would write to her and release

her from her promise of secrecy. Better by far that his father should

be angered than that Valmai should suffer. Yes, it was plain to him

now; he had left the woman he loved in the anomalous position of a

married woman without a husband. What trying scenes might she not pass

through! What bitter fruits might not their brief happiness bear!

The next day they had cleared the storm, its fury having been as

short-lived as it was sudden. The sea was gradually quieting down, and

the sun shone out bravely. The sails were unfurled and the

Burrawalla once more went gaily on her way.

Cardo had spent all the morning in writing; he would send his letter by

the first opportunity. It was full of all the tender expressions of

love that might be expected under the circumstances. His pen could

scarcely keep up with the flow of his thoughts. "I have done wrong in

making you promise to keep our marriage a secret," he wrote, "and I

repent bitterly of my thoughtlessness. Many things might happen which

would make it absolutely necessary that you should disclose it. For

instance, your uncle might die; what would then become of you?

Certainly you would have your good old Uncle John to fall back upon,

and he is a host in himself. If any circumstances should arise which

would make it desirable for you to do so, remember, dearest, it is my

express wish that you should make known to all the world that you are

Valmai Wynne, the beloved wife of Caradoc Wynne." Page after page was

written with the lavish fervour of a first love-letter, very

interesting to the writer no doubt, but which we will leave to the

privacy of the envelope which Cardo addressed and sealed with such

care. He placed it in his desk, not expecting that the opportunity for

sending it would so soon arrive. In the course of the afternoon, there

was some excitement on board, for a large homeward bound ship was

sighted, which had been a good deal damaged by the storm. She had been

driven before the wind, and had borne the brunt of the gale before it

had reached the Burrawalla, having sprung a leak which considerably

impeded her course. She hove to within hailing distance, and received

the aid which the better condition of Captain Owen's ship enabled him

to confer. She was The Dundee (Captain Elliotson), bound for

Liverpool. All letters were delivered to her keeping, and the ships

went on their way, but to what different destinations. The Dundee,

after a stormy passage, was wrecked off the coast of France. The

captain and crew were saved, but the ship became a total wreck, sinking

at last in deep water; and thus Cardo's letter never reached Valmai.