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"There's beautiful, it is," said Valmai, pushing back her hat and taking long breaths of the sea wind; "only six weeks I have been here and yet I seem to have known it for ever I suppose because from a baby I used to hear my father talking of this place. It was his old home, and he was always longing to come back." "Yes," said Cardo, "I can imagine that.
It is waste of stamps, waste of energy, and waste of time to write when you have nothing special to say. But he has something to say to-day. He has a son, a poor, weak fellow I have heard, as far as outward appearance and bodily health go a contrast to you, Cardo but a clever fellow, a senior wrangler, and an M.A. of his college.
Once more Cardo took his way from Caer Madoc to the little wayside station which connected that secluded neighbourhood with the busy, outside world. He had written to Gwynne Ellis to inform him of his coming, and had received a warm and welcoming answer to his letter.
At this remark Lewis Wynne burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "The richest thing I ever heard of. Ha, ha, ha! Meurig Wynne's son married to a Methodist preacher's niece. My dear boy, he'll never give his consent. Why, he hated them like the very devil himself, and now you expect him to agree to your marrying a Methodist." "He'll have to," said Cardo, "and I think he will."
The Vicar was evidently uneasy, as he looked up listening, with one thin finger marking the place on the page he was reading. Cardo was later than usual, and not until he had heard his son's familiar firm step and whistle did he drop once more into the deep interest of his book.
One evening, when Jack, a boy of twelve, returned from school, he came bounding into the room in which Cardo sat with his eyes fixed on a newspaper, which he had not turned nor moved for an hour, Sister Vera sitting at the window with her work. "See, Mr. Williams," said the boy, "what Meta Wright gave me, some gilded gingerbread! isn't it pretty?
What have you there?" "Why, the old register, of course! I furraged it out last night from that old iron chest inside the altar rails. There is another there, going back to the last century, I should think. I must have a look at them; they will be interesting." "Ellis, you are a friend in need," said Cardo. "I had never thought of this part of the ceremony."
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.
"How black the ruins look in that corner," said Cardo. "Yes, and what is that white thing in the window?" said Valmai, in a frightened whisper, and shrinking a little nearer to her companion. "Only a white owl. Here she comes sailing out into the moonlight." "Well, indeed, so it is. From here we can hear the sea, and at the beginning of the shore I shall be turning up to Dinas."
Here is the 'cardo'! The man of sense asserts that it is necessary for the good of all, that a code of laws should exist, while yet it is impossible that all should at all times be obeyed by each person: but what is impossible cannot be required.
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