The spring had gone; summer had taken her place and was spreading all
her wealth of beauty over the scene. The sea lay shimmering in the
golden sunshine, the little fishing-boats flitted about the bay like
white-winged butterflies. On the yellow sands the waves splashed
lazily; up on the cliffs the sea crows cawed noisily, and the sea-gulls
sailed high in the air, and day after day Gwynne Ellis sought and found
some new scene of beauty to transfer to his portfolio. Every day he
trudged away in the morning and returned late in the evening, fast
gaining strength and health, and bidding fair soon to rival Cardo in
his burly breadth of chest.
And where was Cardo through all this summer weather? The duties of his
farm were never very onerous, as, under Ebben's practical management
and his father's careful eye all the work was carried on regularly, and
he well knew that with every year, and with their inexpensive menage,
his father's riches were increasing, and that there was no real reason
why he should work at all; but he was one of those to whom idleness was
intolerable. True! he could lie on the sands with his hat over his
face for an hour sometimes, listening to the plashing waves and the
call of the sea-birds; he could sail in his boat on the bay for many a
sunny afternoon, the sails flapping idly in the breeze, while he with
folded hands leant against the mast, lost in thought, his eyes narrowly
scanning the cliffs and rocks around for some sign of Valmai, and
sometimes rewarded by a glimpse of her red hood or a wave of her
handkerchief; but for the lounging laziness which shirks work, and
shrinks from any active exertion, he had nothing but contempt. Dye
always averred "that the work never went so well as when the young
master helped at it."
"Twt, twt, he is like the rest of the world these days," said Ebben,
"works when he likes, and is idle when he likes. When I was young--"
etc. etc.
When the haymaking began he was everywhere in request, and entered with
much energy into the work of the harvest. Early and late he was out
with the mowers, and, at a push, with his strong shoulders and brawny
arms could use the scythe as well as any of the men. The Vicar paid
occasional visits to the hayfields, and Betto was busy from morning to
night filling the baskets with the lunch of porridge and milk, or the
afternoon tea for the haymakers, or preparing the more substantial
dinner and supper.
"What's Dinas thinking of?" said Ebben, drying his heated face; "not
begun to mow yet?"
"Begin to-morrow," answered Dye. "Essec Powell forgot it was hay
harvest, until Valmai pulled him out by the coat, and made him look
over the gate."