She had regained her composure, and was talking calmly to the curate, who was laying before her his plans for a Sunday school treat. It is one of the bitter trials of humanity that it has to converse about trifles while the heart is breaking. If only the tortured one could rush away to some lonely moor, there to weep and wail to his heart's content, the pain would not be so insufferable; but in life that cannot be, and Valmai smiled and talked plat.i.tudes with a martyr's patience.

In the drawing-room, after dinner, she buried herself in the old, red arm-chair, setting herself to endure her misery to the bitter end.

When Cardo entered with Colonel Meredith, Cecil, and the curate, she had pa.s.sed from agonised suffering to the cold insensibility of a stone. She knew she would wake again when the evening was over, and she was alone with her sorrow; but now she had but to bear and wait.

It would be impossible to describe Cardo's feelings; indeed, he felt, as he entered the room, and saw that white figure in the crimson chair, that he had already pa.s.sed through the bitterness of death.

"Nothing more can hurt me," he thought; "after this I can defy every evil power to do me harm!" And he stood in his old att.i.tude with his elbow leaning on the mantelpiece, while he answered Gwen's frivolous, and Winifred's sentimental, questions.

"Are you fond of music?" one of them said at last. "Yes? Oh! Beauty, dear, do come and sing to us--that sweet ballad you sing so often, you know--'By Berwen Banks'."

"Not to-night," said a soft voice from the armchair. "I am tired, Gwen. You sing, dear."

"Well, I'll sing that, if you won't."

And she sang it; and Valmai and Cardo, "so near and yet so far,"

estranged and miserable, listened to every word, which fell on their memories like searing drops of molten lead.

"By Berwen's banks my love has strayed For many a day in sun and shade; And when she carolled loud and clear The little birds flew down to hear.

"By Berwen's banks the storm rode high, The swollen river rushing by; And in its waves my love was drowned, And on its banks my love was found.

"I'll ne'er forget that leafy shade, I'll ne'er forget that winsome maid; But there no more she carols free, So Berwen's banks are sad to me!"

At the last words, during the acclamations of the family, Valmai rose, unable to bear more. There was a little cry and a soft fall by the side of the red chair, and she lay in a white, unconscious heap on the floor.

"Oh! Beauty, darling!" cried Gwen and Winifred, in a breath, while they flew towards her.

Cardo, too, had instinctively rushed towards the fallen figure. He lifted her in his strong arms as though she had been a feather-weight.

"Oh! thank you, Mr. Wynne," said Mrs. Meredith; "this way, please, to her own room at once, where we can lay her on the couch."

And with the whole family forming a _queue_ behind them, even the curate standing on the mat at the bottom, Cardo bore her up the staircase and into the room which Mrs. Meredith indicated.

During a little distraction, caused by Gwen's pommelling of the sofa cushions, Cardo for a moment lost control over his feelings, and he pressed Valmai's form convulsively to his breast as he stooped to lay her down on the couch. He was quickly edged away by the fluttering womenkind who pressed round, each with her own restorative; a little sigh from Valmai told him that she was already recovering, and casting one lingering look of love on the white figure, he made his way downstairs, and joined the other gentlemen, who had straggled back into the drawing-room. He listened absently to the different conjectures as to what had caused Valmai's faint.

"Never knew her do such a thing before!" said Colonel Meredith. "Can't think what it was; but I do remember once she burst into tears when she was singing some old Welsh ballad--that very one, I think--yes--'By Berwen Banks'--strange coincidence!"

In a little while the ladies returned also. "She is all right now,"

they said, "and quite ashamed of herself; she has had a gla.s.s of wine and a biscuit, and insisted upon our leaving her--in fact, she turned us all out of the room and bolted the door."

"Isn't she a lovely girl, Mr. Jones?"

"Oh! yes, indeed--yes--very, indeed!" and Mrs. Meredith was delighted to have an excuse for dilating on her visitor's charms of person and character; while Cardo set himself to work to deliver himself of every message which Dr. Belton had entrusted to him.

He bore Colonel Meredith's cross-examination with unflinching patience, and even suggested fresh topics of inquiry, for, while he had carried Valmai up the stairs he had come to the determination to leave the house before he saw her again. The strain of the situation was more than he could bear. To live under the same roof with her, and not to claim her for his own was impossible--to adhere to the terms of his promise, never to allude to his former acquaintance with her was utterly beyond his power. "Base--dishonourable!" Could it have been Valmai who spoke to him in these terms? or was he the victim of some strange hallucination?

When at last the evening came to an end, he thankfully lighted his candle at the hall table, the whole family hovering round with various hopes that "he would sleep well," "that he didn't mind a feather-bed,"

"that he didn't mind the sun shining in in the morning." "You can close the shutters, you know. Good-night."

"What time does the post come in the morning?" he asked.

"Oh! at seven o'clock; you can have your letters brought up if you wish; but we always like to have them on our plates at breakfast. Bob will bring yours up."

"If it's no trouble," said Cardo.

There was a whole chorus of "certainly not!" "of course not!" under cover of which he made his way safely round the turning on the stair-case. He stepped wearily up the second flight of stairs; there was her room! and he groaned almost audibly as he turned into his own.

Inside that bolted door, a listening ear had caught every vibration of his footstep, every tone of his voice, and a tear-stained face was now raised in agonised prayer, over folded hands which held in their clasp a ring hung on a white satin ribbon.

The exclamations of disappointment and regret next morning, when Cardo's empty seat at the breakfast table disclosed their guest's absence, were loud as they were sincere.

"How unfortunate!" said Colonel Meredith. "I meant to have taken him out fishing to-day; there was a little rain in the night and the Ithon would have been perfect for trout to-day. Here's his note:--

"DEAR COLONEL MEREDITH--I am grieved to say that some unexpected circ.u.mstances necessitate my leaving your hospitable roof and returning home to Cardiganshire at once. I shall walk to the station and catch the 7.30 train. Please tender my heart-felt thanks to Mrs. Meredith, and all the other members of your family for their kindness and hospitality. I hope to call upon them at another time, and express my regrets and thanks in person.

"With many thanks to you also,

"I remain,

"Yours truly,

"CARADOC WYNNE."

Colonel Meredith was reading the last words as Valmai entered and took her place at the breakfast table.

"Isn't it a shame, Beauty," said Gwen. "Just as I was beginning to make a favourable impression upon him, too! There must have been something in the letter Bob took up to him this morning."

"Oh, of course," said her father; "fine young fellow--very!"

"Awfully handsome, I call him," said Winifred; "such a sparkle in his eyes!"

"Beauty wasn't smitten," said Gwen.

"On the contrary, she was so smitten she fainted," said Winnie; "you are still rather pale, dear. Papa, wouldn't it be a jolly day for a picnic by the Ithon?"

"Yes," said the Colonel; "bring your lunch down in the brake, and we'll light a fire by the carn, and broil the fish, for I am sure we shall get a basketful to-day--eh! eh! Cecil?"

"Yes--and the drive will do Miss Powell good," said the lad, who was in good spirits from having so easily got rid of Cardo.

And after breakfast they all drove off to the picnic, and Cardo's arrival and his departure were forgotten by all save one.

CHAPTER XX.