"Go and see how he is progressing, dear." And she would go and linger
over the picture with comments and praise; but it must be confessed
that the drawing progressed more rapidly during her absence than during
these visits of inspection.
One afternoon she came running down the "Velvet Walk" with an open
letter in her hand, and a distressed look in her eyes.
"Oh, Mr. Ellis! such a disappointment! Valmai is not coming this week.
She has been feeling unwell lately, and the doctor advises a thorough
change for her, so she and Mifanwy Meredith are thinking of going to
Switzerland. Hear what she says:--'Mifanwy is longing for the Swiss
lakes and mountains, and wishes me to accompany her. I suppose I may
as well do so; but I must first make a hurried journey down to
Abersethin, and to see you on my way back. I hear from Dr. Francis
that dear old Nance is very ill, and it will depend upon how I find her
whether I go to Switzerland or not."
"Now, isn't that vexing! You would feel for me if you knew what Valmai
is to me! I seem to love her with all the accumulation of love which
had missed its object for so many long years before we met."
Gwynne Ellis was looking seriously into the distance.
"I do feel for you, Miss Powell; but don't think me a brute if I say I
am not sorry she's gone--something good may come of it."
"I can't understand you," she said, seating herself on a log in front
of him. "You have never told me how you became acquainted with her.
Have you known her from childhood?"
"Oh, dear, no," said Ellis, laying aside his painting, and stretching
himself on the mossy bank. "I will tell you all about it; it is very
simple. Being rather out of health about two years ago, I went down to
Abersethin to stay at the Vicar's house, he being an old friend of my
father's. I found his son, Caradoc Wynne, a fine fellow--a splendid
specimen of a Welsh country gentleman--and he and I became great
friends during the three months that I spent there."
Gwladys's blue eyes opened in astonishment.
"Caradoc Wynne?" she said, in an anxious tone, which surprised her
companion.
"Yes. Generally known as Cardo Wynne at Abersethin. I found him over
head and ears in love with Valmai Powell--your sister, it seems, though
I had no idea she had a sister. His rhapsodies about her amused me at
first; but when I saw how deeply in earnest he was, I sympathised with
him, and took a great interest in the progress of their courtship. His
father and her uncle--one being the Vicar of the parish, and the other
a Methodist preacher--hated each other with a deadly hatred--but you
are looking pale," he said anxiously. "What is it? Am I saying
anything to disturb you?"