"Yes," said Cardo, "I always thought it was a thicket, though I often
roamed the other side of the stream. And now the dear little dell is
haunted by a sweet fairy, who weaves her spells and draws me here. Oh,
Valmai, what a summer it is!"
"Yes," she said, bending her head over a moon-daisy, from which she
drew the petals one by one. "Loves me not," she said, as she held the
last up for Cardo's inspection with a mischievous smile.
"It's a false daisy, love," he said, drawing her nearer to him, "for if
my heart is not wholly and entirely yours, then such a thing as love
never existed. Look once more into my eyes, cariad anwl, and tell
me you too feel the same."
"Oh, Cardo, what for will I say the same thing many times?"
"Because I love to hear you."
The girl leant her cheek confidingly on his breast, but when he
endeavoured to draw her closer and press a kiss upon the sweet mouth,
she slipped away from his arms, and, shaking her finger at him
playfully, said, "No, no, one kiss is enough in a week,
whatever--indeed, indeed, you shan't have more," and she eluded his
grasp by slipping into the hazel copse, and looking laughingly at him
through its branches. "Oh, the cross man," she said, "and the
dissatisfied. Smile, then, or I won't come out again."
"Come, Valmai, darling, you tantalise me, and I begin to think you are
after all a fairy or a wood nymph, or something intangible of that
kind."
"Intangible, what is that?" she said, returning to his side with a
little pucker on her brow. "Oh, if you begin to call me names, I must
come back; but you must be good," as Cardo grasped her hand, "do you
hear, and not ask for kisses and things."
"Well, I won't ask for kisses and things," said Cardo, laughing,
"until--next time."
And thus, while Essec Powell was lost in dreams of the old bards and
druids, and the Vicar counted his well-garnered hayricks, these two
walked and sang in the mazes of the greenwood, the soft evening sky
above them, the sweet sea-breezes around them, and talked the old
foolish delicious words of love and happiness.
What wonder was it that, as alone under the stars, they returned to the
haunts of men, the links of the love that bound them to each other grew
stronger and stronger; and that to Valmai, as they parted on the shore,
all of earthly delight seemed bound up in Cardo; and to him, as he
watched the lithe, graceful figure climbing up the rugged path to the
cliffs, all the charm and beauty of life seemed to go with her.
After supper, at which the Vicar had been more silent than usual, he
rose, and for a moment stood still, and, looking at his son, seemed
about to speak, but appearing to change his mind, after a curt
good-night, he walked away through the long stone passage with his
usual firm step. He was so regular and fixed in his habits that even
this little hesitation in his manner surprised Cardo, but he had not
much time for conjecture, as his father's voice was heard at the study
door.