and seemed to share her anxiety for the arrival of a
letter--who from, he did not know for certain, but he made a very good
guess, for Valmai's secret was not so much her own only as she imagined
it to be.

Her frequent meetings with Cardo, though scarcely noticed at the time,
were remembered against her; and her long stay at Fordsea, with the
rumour of Cardo's return there, decided the feeling of suspicion which
had for some time been floating about. There had been a whisper, then
mysterious nods and smiles, and cruel gossip had spread abroad the evil
tidings.

Valmai bore all in patient silence. Her longing for Cardo's return
amounted almost to an agony, yet the thought of explaining her
position, and clearing her name before the world, never entered her
head, or, if it did, was instantly expelled. No; the whole world might
spurn her; she might die; but to reveal a secret which Cardo had
desired her to keep, seemed to her faithful and guileless nature an
unpardonable breach of honour.

Gwen, who had not been immaculate herself, was her cruellest enemy,
never losing an opportunity of inflicting a sting upon her helpless
victim, whose presence in the household she had always resented.

The day following Gwen's sneering remark, Valmai took her daily walk to
Abersethin post-office.

The old man beamed at her over his counter.

"Letter come at last, miss," he said.

And her heart stood still. She was white to the lips as she sat down
on a convenient sack of maize.

"It is a long walk," said the postmaster, hunting about for the letter.
"Dear me, wherrs I put it?"

And he looked in a box of bloaters and a basket of eggs.

"Here it is. I 'member now; I put it safe with the cheese was to go to
Dinas."

Valmai took it with trembling fingers; it had a deep black edge.

"It is not for me," she said.

"Indeed! I was not notice that. I was only see 'Powell, Dinas.' I am
sorry, miss, fach; but you must cheer up," he added, seeing the
gathering tears; "it's never so dark that the Lord can't clear it up."

"No," said Valmai, rising from her seat. "Thank you; good-bye."

And, blinded by her tears, she passed out into the driving wind and
sleet. Perhaps the letter bore some news of Cardo! Perhaps bad news,
for it had a black edge! She drew her red cloak tightly around her and
once more bravely faced the buffeting wind which swept the path before
her, and with fitful gusts threatened to lift her off her f