"Will we hate each other?"
Again there was no answer, and again Cardo looked down at Valmai as he
pressed his question.
She had taken off her hat, and was walking with her golden head exposed
to the cool night breezes. It drooped a little as she answered his
persistent questioning.
"No, I think," she said, with her quaint Welsh accent.
"No, I think, too," said Cardo; "why should we? Let us leave the
hatred and malice and all uncharitableness to our elders; for you and
me, down here on the sands and by the banks of the Berwen, there need
be nothing but content and--and friendship."
"Yes, indeed, it is nice to have friends. I left all mine behind me in
my old home, and I did not think I should ever have another; but here
we are across the shore, and here is the path to Dinas."
"Oh, but the walk has been too short. You must come back and let us
have it over again."
"What! back again?" said Valmai, laughing so merrily that she woke the
echoes from the cliffs.
"Yes, back across those slippery stones and across the shore, and then
back again to this side. I can help you, you know."
Cardo's voice was very low and tender. It seemed ridiculous, but
somehow he gained his point.