"True, indeed!" said Cardo, beginning energetically to lower the sails,
and guide the boat safely to shore.
He said no more, until, after a tramp over the beach, both buried in
their own thoughts, they drew near the path to Brynderyn.
"You will help me, then, at the old church on the morning of the
fourteenth?"
"I will," said Ellis.
Before that morning arrived, Cardo had won from Valmai a frightened and
half-reluctant consent.
She was no longer a child, but seemed to have matured suddenly into a
woman of calm and reflective character, as well as of deep and tender
feeling.
To be married thus hurriedly and secretly! How different to the
beautiful event which she had sometimes pictured for herself! Where
was the long, white veil? Where were the white-robed bridesmaids?
Where were the smiling friends to look on and to bless? There would be
none of these indeed, but then--there would be Cardo! to encourage and
sustain her--to call her wife! and to entrust his happiness to her.
Yes, she would marry him; she would be true to him--neither life nor
death should shake her constancy--no power should draw from her lips
the sweet secret of their marriage, for Cardo had said, "It must be a
secret between us, love, until I return and tell my father myself--can
you promise that, Valmai?" and with simple earnestness she had placed
her hand in his, saying, "I promise, Cardo." And well might he put his
trust in her, for, having given that word of promise, no one who knew
her (they were very few) could doubt that she would keep it both in the
letter and in the spirit.
The morning of the fourteenth dawned bright and clear, but as Cardo
threw up his window and looked over the shining waters of the bay he
saw that on the horizon gray streaky clouds were rising, and spreading
fan-like upwards from one point, denoting to his long-accustomed eye
that a storm was brewing.
"Well! it is September," he thought, "and we must expect gales."
He dressed hurriedly though carefully, and was soon walking with
springy step across the beach, and up the valley to the old church. He
cast a nervous glance towards Dinas, wondering whether Valmai would
remember her promise--fearing lest she might have overslept
herself--that Essec Powell or Shoni might have discovered her
intentions and prevented their fulfilment; perhaps even she might be
shut up in one of the rooms in that gaunt, grey house! Nothing was too
unreasonable or unlikely for his fears, and as he approached the church
he was firmly convinced that something had happened to frustrate his
hopes; nobody was in sight, the Berwen brawled on its way, the birds
sang the ivy on the old church tower glistened in the sunshine, and the
sea-gulls sailed overhead as usual.