Cardiganshire, Wales."

"Oh, my God, I thank Thee," were the only words that escaped the
Vicar's lips while he hurried home through the brewing storm, the
letters clutched in his hand and pressed against his breast; but these
words were repeated several times.

At last, in the quiet of his study, he opened his son's letter and
hungrily devoured every word of its contents twice over. After its
perusal he took up the second letter, and, with visible emotion, poured
over every line of the address, turning the envelope over and over, and
pondering in deep but silent thought, from which Betto's knock,
announcing dinner, startled him.

As he stood for a moment to say grace, before sitting down to his meal,
Betto raised her eyes to his face, and was so startled by the changed
and softened look that, with round eyes of surprise, she asked:

"Mishtir bach! what is it?"

"Mr. Cardo is coming home."

And Betto, quite overcome, plumped herself down on the sofa, throwing
her apron over her head and shedding some surreptitious tears of
sympathy; while the Vicar, forgetting his dinner, recounted to her the
chief incidents of his son's absence--his long illness, and subsequent
loss of memory--Betto following the tale with a running accompaniment
of ejaculations.

"And this, Betto," said her master, slowly laying the other letter on
the table before her, "look at it--but I forgot you can't read English."

"Howyer bach! not I."

"Well, it is addressed to 'Mrs. Caradoc Wynne.' Did you know anything
of this?"

Betto's face exhibited a succession of expressions, which followed each
other like dissolving views, astonishment, indignation, fear of her
master's displeasure, determination to champion Cardo in any course of
combat, all ending in a broad grin of delight as she saw an
unaccustomed curve on the Vicar's lips.

"Did I know it? No; if I had, I wouldn't have had words with so many
people in the village. Oh! my boy, bach! didn't I always say he was a
gentleman!" And her varied emotions culminated in a rain of tears.

"Twt, twt!" said the Vicar, clearing his throat, "no nonsense, Betto;
bring me the potatoes."

And that meal was finished with more cheerfulness than had lightened up
that dark old room for many a long year.

From that day forth the Vicar seemed to gain strength and gladness with
every hour. He took long walks in his parish, and showed more tender
sympathy with the ailments and troubles of his a