"Well," he said, "there's a thing I never thought I would do in this world."

"Oh, well, come," said Lewis Wynne's jovial voice. "You meant to do it in the next world evidently, so we may as well begin here."

"Will you come in?" and the old man awkwardly ushered them into the little back parlour, which Valmai's busy fingers had transformed from its original bareness into a cosy home-room.

"Oh, what a dear little room," said Mrs. Wynne as she entered.

The table was littered with books and papers, a gleam of sunlight shining through the crimson curtains giving a warm glow to the whole room.

"Yes," said Essec Powell, looking round with the air of a stranger, "it has nice bookshelves, and a nice light for reading; but I miss that girl shocking, shocking," he repeated; "got to look out for every pa.s.sage now, and I was used to her somehow, you see; and I haven't got anybody else, and I wish in my heart she would come back again."

"That, I am afraid," said the Vicar, "can never be; perhaps both you and I, Mr. Powell, have forgotten too much that, while we are going down the stream of life, the young people are going up, and are building their own hopes and interests; and I called to-day to see whether we could not agree--you and I--to think more of the young people's happiness for the future, and less of our own ease or our own sorrows."

"It's very well for you to talk," said Essec Powell. "You are a rich man--I am poor; everything you see here belongs to Shoni, and it is very hard that Valmai should have all my brother's money, and I be left with none."

"I think it is hard," said Mr. Lewis Wynne, "and as my nephew will be a very wealthy man, I am certain that he and his wife will be willing to pay you every year the amount which you lost by your brother's will."

"You think that?" said Essec Powell; "150 pounds a year--you think they would give me that?"

"I am sure they would; in fact, I can give you my word for it."

"Well, indeed," he said, laying his book upside down carefully on the table, "that will make me a happy man. I can soon pay off Shoni, and then I can sleep at night without feeling that my servant is my master; and, more than all, I can give all my time to my book that I am writing."

"What is it?" said the Vicar, no longer able to restrain his interest in the old books which littered the table.

"Well, it is the history of our own county from as far back as I can trace it; and, oh! you wouldn't believe," he said, "how many interesting facts I have gathered together. I was not meant for a preacher, and I am getting too old and worn-out to travel about the country. I would like to give up preaching and spend all my time with my books. And with 150 pounds a year! Why, I would be a prince indeed!"

"Well, you may tell your congregation next Sunday," said Lewis Wynne, "that they had better take heed to their own ways now, for that you are going to retire from the ministry."

"And thank G.o.d for that," said Essec Powell; "it will be enough for me to look after my own wicked ways. Indeed, I feel I am not fit to teach others ever since I turned Valmai out of the house."

"I see you have here 'Mona Antiqua,'" said the Vicar. "I have a copy in very good preservation, and I am sure I might be able to give you a good many interesting facts for your book gathered from some old MSS.

which I found stowed away in the old church tower."

"Can you, now? can you, indeed?"

And the two antiquarians bent with deep interest over the musty books on the table.

Two hours slipped away very pleasantly to the two old men before the visitors took their departure.

At the door Essec Powell held Lewis Wynne's hand for a moment.

"Do you think the little gel will forgive me? and do you think the young fellow will find her?"

"Yes, I think he will; and if all he says of her be true, I am sure she will forget and forgive the past. Of course, you had some excuse, in the mystery and doubt surrounding her at the time."

"Two hours you bin there," said Shoni, as they pa.s.sed him in the yard.

"I wa.s.s just kom in to see if you wa.s.s all asleep. Good-bye, sir."

He touched his hat respectfully to the Vicar; and as he returned to the house to dinner he muttered to himself several times:

"End of the world! I am sure of it! End of the world!"

[1] Poor fellow.

[2] Good-morning.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE VELVET WALK.

"Are you going out so late, dear?" said Mrs. Power, as she crossed the hall, where Gwladys was reaching a wrap from some hooks on the wall.

"Yes, auntie, such a lovely evening--quite like spring; I can't resist it. I will put on the cloak Valmai left, and I shall be quite warm."

"Yes, and the very image of her," said Mrs. Power, looking after her through the gla.s.s of the front door.

It was one of those tender evenings that visit us sometimes at the beginning of the year to remind us that spring is not far distant, and to make us forget that the cold March winds are yet in store for us.

Gwladys drew the red hood over her head and walked briskly in the direction of the lake, which lay buried in the fir wood behind the house.

The path which led towards it was called "The Velvet Walk," being overgrown with a carpet of moss. The sun had just set, and the pale blue sky was cloudless and serene as on a summer evening; but here, in the shadow of the trees, the darkness was falling fast.

Over the fir tree tops one golden star hung like a jewel in the sky.

Gwladys walked with face upturned and eyes fixed upon its sparkling brilliancy, and so lost was she in admiration of its beauty, that she was quite unconscious of a hurrying figure who followed close upon her steps.

It was Cardo, who, as he walked along the drive towards the house, had caught sight of a gleam of scarlet between the fir trees.

"Valmai!" he said, with a bound of the heart, and a flood of love and happiness taking the place of the anxious doubts which had filled him since his return home.

He hastened past the front of the house and entered "The Velvet Walk"

to find the scarlet cloak but a little way in front of him, and Valmai, as he thought, walking with gaze upturned to the brilliant evening star.

"At last, my darling!" he said, but softly, for he would surprise her.

He would approach nearer and call her name, and then she would turn, and he would see the love-light in those starry eyes, of which he had dreamed at night and longed for by day. He was close upon her, but his footsteps made no sound on the velvet carpet.

"Valmai!" he said at last, and stood with wide-open arms and a rapturous smile on his lips.

But at the sound of his voice the girl darted forward a few steps before she turned round and faced the stranger. Her first look was of astonishment and fright, immediately followed by one of indignation.

"Valmai, my darling, I have frightened you," he said, but dropping his arms and the smile dying out of his face; for before the girl had opened her lips to speak, he saw the flush of indignation and the haughty look which pa.s.sed over her face.

"Back!" she said, holding up her hand as if to keep him away; "not a step nearer. And what if I am Valmai? What is she to you after all these months of cruel neglect?"