By Berwen Banks - Page 174/176

There, under the golden moon, with endless questions and reiteration of

answers, Valmai told her story and Cardo told his, until the moon rode

high in the sky. Again and again Cardo pressed her to his heart, and

again and again she took his brown hands in her own and laid her cheek

upon them.

"Oh, Cardo! is it true? or is it all a dream? So suddenly to leave my

sadness and sorrow behind, and to awake to this blessed reality!" And

as they rose to pursue their walk together, Cardo drew her arm through

his, as if afraid for a moment to loosen his hold of her.

"But your sister, dearest, is not like you! How could I have been

deceived? How could I, for one moment, have thought my gentle darling

would say such cruel things? No, no! you are utterly unlike each

other, though so strangely alike."

"Well, indeed, Cardo bâch! when you know her you will see how sweet and

beautiful she is! how much wiser and more noble than I! It was her

great love for me, and her desire that I should be happy, that made her

act as she did; and to-morrow you must read her penitent letter, and

learn to forgive her, and to love her for my sake."

"I will--I will, love; I will forgive anybody, anything, and will love

the whole world now that I have you back again. But oh, Valmai, my

beloved, how shall I ever make up to you for all you have gone through?

I know now you never received my letter written on the Burrawalla,

and sent by The Dundee, for I have heard of her sad fate. In that,

dearest, I retracted my request that you should keep our marriage a

secret, and you would have been saved all the sorrow you have borne had

you received it. But I will make up to you, dearest, if the devotion

of a lifetime can do so."

"This is happiness enough to make up for anything," said Valmai; "and I

am glad I was able to keep my promise."

"Faithful friend, and trustful wife!" answered Cardo.

"Ah! no," continued Valmai; "I shall never regret having kept my

promise! Indeed, I never felt tempted to break it, except one day,

when, in the old church, I met your father face to face. Never shall I

forget the agonising longing I felt to throw myself at his feet and

tell him all, and mingle my tears with his."

"He has told me all about it, love, and how he thought it was an angel,

when he first saw you standing there. But let us leave all tales of

sorrow for another day; to-night is for love only, for rapturous joy!

Are we not together, love? and what does anything else matter?"