"There's a nice noise it is making down there," said Valmai. "But why
do you say a bad word when I tell you my uncle's name?"
"A bad word? In your presence? Not for the world! But I could not
help thinking how shocked my father and your uncle would be to see us
walking together."
"Yes, I think, indeed," said the girl, opening a little basket and
spreading its contents on the low wall. "See!" she said, in almost
childish tones, and turning her face straight to the moonlight.
Cardo saw, as he looked down at her, that it was a beautiful face.
"See!" she said, "gingerbread that I bought in that old street they
call 'The Mwntroyd.' Here is a silver ship, and here is a gold watch,
and a golden girl. Which will you have?"
"Well, indeed, I am as hungry as a hunter," said Cardo. "I will have
the lassie, if you are sure you have enough for two."
"Anwl! anwl! I have a lamb and a sheep and some little pigs in my
basket." And she proceeded to spread them out and divide them; and
they continued to chat as they ate their gilded gingerbread.
"Suppose your uncle and my father knew we were standing on the same
bridge and looking at the same moon," said Cardo, laughing.
"And eating the same gingerbread," added Valmai.
"My word! There would be wrath."
"Wrath?" said the girl, looking thoughtfully up in her companion's
face; "what is that?"
"Oh, something no one could feel towards you. 'Wrath' is anger."
"My uncle is angry sometimes with me, and--too--with--with--"
"My father, I suppose?" said Cardo.
"Yes, indeed," said the girl; "that is true, whatever. Every Wednesday
evening at the prayer-meeting he is praying for the 'Vicare du,' and
Betto told me last week that the Vicare is praying for my uncle on
Tuesday evenings."
"Oh, Lord! has it come to that?" said Cardo. "Then I'm afraid we can
never hope for peace between them."
They both laughed, and the girl's rippling tones mingled musically in
Cardo's ears with the gurgle of the Berwen.
"It is getting late," she said, "we had better go on; but I must say
good-night here, because it is down by the side of the river is my way
to Dinas. You will be nearer to keep on the road till you cross the
valley."
"No, indeed," said the young man, already preparing to help his
companion over the stone stile. "I will go down by the Berwen too."
"Anwl," said Valmai, clasping her hands; "it will be a mile further for
you, whatever."
"A mile is nothing on such a night as this."
And down to the depths of the dark underwood they passed, by a steep,
narrow path, down through the tangled briers and bending ferns, until
they reached the banks of the stream. The path was but little defined,
and evidently seldom trodden; the stream gurgled and lisped under the
brushwood; the moon looked down upon it and sparkled on its ripples;
and as Valmai led the way, chatting in her broken English, a strange
feeling of happy companionship awoke in Cardo Wynne's heart.