The thought would come, the fear would haunt him. He was surprised
to find himself overtaken by a woman.
"Dir, dir, what a storm," she remarked as she passed, hurried on her
way by the driving wind.
One or two of Cardo's long steps brought him up with her.
"Don't you come from Ynysoer?" he said. "I think I know your face."
"Yes, gwae fi! that I had got safe back again, but my mother is
ill," she shouted, as the wind carried her words away, "and I must stay
with her till tomorrow, no one could go back over the Rock Bridge
to-night; though, indeed, I met a young girl crossing--"
"Had she a red cloak?" asked Cardo.
"Yes. She was Essec Powell's niece, and if she tries to come back
to-night I wouldn't give much for her life."
"Here we part--good-bye," said Cardo.
"Nos da, Ser," said the woman, but her voice was drowned by the roar of
the wind.
"It was Valmai! I knew it was! Why did I not take my boat at once?
Now it is too late; and yet," he thought, "she cannot come till the
tide is low. I may get there in time. Surely she would not attempt to
cross the bridge yet?"
For the rest of the evening Cardo paced restlessly over the beach,
buffeted by the strong wind, wetted by the spray, but still watching
narrowly the bridge of rocks, which connected the island with the
mainland. He knew for a certainty that Valmai was there, and he
watched with intense interest the darkening island, over which the
storm gathered with increasing fury. His plan was to wait until the
tide went down, and then to cross the bridge himself, so as to help
Valmai, or to prevent her attempting to return.
After several hours' waiting in the shelter of the cliff, he saw by his
watch, which he was able to decipher by occasional gleams of moonlight,
that it was near upon nine o'clock. The moon was hidden at intervals
by heavy storm-clouds, which were hurrying before the wind; but when
her light shone out fitfully, it disclosed a scene of wild confusion;
the horizon was as black as ink, the seething sea beneath was white as
snow, and the sound of the wind and waves was deafening.
Over the Rock Bridge the sea rushed like a mill race one moment leaving
it bare and black, the next covering it again with strong rushing
billows of foam.
"She will not dare to return to-night," he thought, as he watched a
tossing, foaming tower of spray, which rose in the centre of the
bridge, where two streams of the seething waters met, and rose high in
the air together.
The moon had again hidden her face, and in the darkness Cardo was
seized with a trembling fear. With bent and bare head (for he had long
before lost his hat) he made a blind rush over the bridge. For the
first few yards he got on safely, as each end was sheltered by high
rocks, which stood as sentinels looking across at each other.