f his manhood, should feel this
strange depression, this dark cloud hanging over him, whenever he
thought of his young wife. It was unlike Cardo. If his life had been
devoid of any special interest or excitement, it had at least been free
from care. Not even his lonely childhood, or his dull, old home had
dimmed the brightness and elasticity of his spirits. He had never had
a cobweb in his brain, and this haunting shadow which followed every
sweet memory of his wife was beginning to rouse his resentment, and
while the storm raged around him, and the ship ploughed her way through
the seething waters, Cardo Wynne, set himself with manful determination
to face the "black dog" which had haunted him lately; and somewhat in
this groove ran his thoughts.

"Valmai, sweet Valmai, I have left her; it could not be helped. I will
return to her on the wings of love as soon as I have fulfilled my
father's wishes." But a year--had he provided fully and properly for
her happiness during that time? Money, amply sufficient, he had left
in her uncle's keeping for her, as she had firmly refused to accept it
herself. "I shall not want it; I have plenty for myself. I have
twenty gold sovereigns in my little seal purse at home, and I shall
receive my next quarter's allowance soon. No, no, Cardo, no money
until we set up house-keeping," and he had acceded to her wishes; but
had, unknown to her, left a cheque in her uncle's keeping. "Why did I
claim from her that promise of secrecy? What if circumstances might
arise which would make it impossible for her to keep it?" He knew that
having given her promise to him, she would rather die than break it.
He had acted the part of a selfish man, who had no thought, but of his
own passionate love; the possible consequences to her had not before
occurred to his mind. But now, in the stress of the storm, while the
thunder rolled above him, and the lightning flashed over the swirling
waters, everything seemed clear and plain. He had done wrong, and he
would now face the wrong. Their happy meeting at Fordsea, as blissful
as it was unexpected, might be followed by times of trouble for
Valmai--times when she would desire to make known her marriage; and he
had left her with an embargo upon her only means of escape out of a
difficulty. Yes, the path was plain, he would write to her and release
her from her promise of secrecy. Better by far that his father should
be angered than that Valmai shou