rew the hood over my head, and it
tumbled my hair," she said, with a little wan smile. Already the
glamour of the wedding was giving way to the sorrow of parting. "I had
my hat under my cloak. Oh, anwl! I am getting quite a deceitful girl!"

Cardo winced; was he sullying the pure soul? But there was no time for
retrospection, the minutes were fleeting rapidly by, he had to return
to his breakfast with his father, who would expect his last hours to be
spent with him.

"When do you start from Brynderyn?" she asked, her voice growing lower
and more sorrowful.

"At two o'clock, love, punctually; the cart has already gone with my
luggage. Valmai, how can I part from you--how can I leave you, my
beloved, my wife?"

"Oh, Cardo, Cardo!" was all her answer. She buried her face in her
hands, and the tears trickled through her fingers.

Cardo drew them away tenderly.

"There is a tear on your ring, dear," he said, kissing it, "that must
not be; let that at all events be the emblem of meeting and happiness
and joy. Think, Valmai, only a year, and I shall come and claim you
for my own! Confess, dearest, that it is a little solace that we are
united before we are parted, that, whatever happens, you are my wife
and I am your husband."

"Yes, indeed; indeed, it is my only solace, and I am going to be brave
and hopeful. My ring I must not wear on my finger; but see, I have
brought a white satin ribbon to tie it round my neck; it shall always
be there until you take it off, and place it on my finger again."

"And you will keep our secret until I return, darling?"

"Yes," said Valmai impressively, "_until you come back, Cardo, and give
me leave to reveal it_."

"We must part, fanwylyd; my father must not miss me."

"No, no--go, I will not keep you back."

There was a long, passionate embrace, during which the white owl
flapped in again to her nest.

"Good-bye and good-bye, darling, and farewell until we meet again."

"Leave me here, Cardo. Good-bye, dearest husband!"

And so they parted, and, in the memory of both, for many a long year
the sound of the Berwen held a place, and the flap of the white owl's
wings brought back to Valmai memories of pain and happiness, mixed
together in a strange tumult. Slowly she made her way up the path to
Dinas, the scarlet cloak was taken out from the bush under which it had
been hidden, and, enveloped in its folds, she entered the house. Going
up to her own room, she took