e time! What you want to go there so often?
It's no wonder if you are drowned crossing that nasty place in such a
storm, You are like a wet sea-gull. If you were a baby you wouldn't be
more trouble," etc., etc.

Cardo still waited until he saw in the kitchen the blaze of
freshly-piled logs on the culm fire, Gwen's voice still reaching him in
snappish, reproving tones through the closed door. Then he turned
away, and though he was bodily cold and saturated with the sea water,
his heart was full of warmth and a newly-awakened sense of the joy and
fulness of life.

[1] Oatmeal and water kept until fermentation has commenced, and then
boiled into a thin porridge.

[2] Dear heart.

[3] Woe is me.

CHAPTER V.

GWYNNE ELLIS ARRIVES.

For a few days, Valmai, although she had received no serious harm from
her watery adventure, still felt a little languor and indisposition,
which kept her a prisoner in the house. As she lay on the old shabby
sofa, her time was fully occupied by reading to her uncle, books of
Welsh history or the effusions of the old bards, which interested him
so much. Ever and anon, while he searched for a reference or took
notes of some special passage, she would fall into a dreamy reverie, a
happy smile on her lips and a light in her eyes which her uncle saw
not. Yes, Cardo loved her! She knew now that he did, and the world
was changed. She would make haste to get well and find him again on
the shore, on the cliffs, or on the banks of the Berwen. Her uncle had
heard from Gwen of her drenched condition on the night of the storm,
but had already forgotten the circumstance, and only recalled it when
he missed her active help in some arrangement of his heavy books.

"How did you get wet, merch i?"

"Coming over the Rock Bridge I was, uncle. I had been to see Nance,
and the storm increased so much when I was there that when I returned
the waves washed right over the bridge."

"Well, to be sure! Now on the next page you will find a splendid
description of such a storm; go on, my girl," and Valmai continued the
reading.

Meanwhile, Cardo, after a good night's rest, was no whit the worse for
his battle with the storm; but he was full of fears lest Valmai's more
delicate frame should suffer. He rose with the dawn and made his way
over the dewy grass across the valley, and into the field where Essec
Powell's cows were just awaking and clumsily rising from their night's
sleep under t