"so near and yet so far,"
estranged and miserable, listened to every word, which fell on their
memories like searing drops of molten lead.

"By Berwen's banks my love has strayed
For many a day in sun and shade;
And when she carolled loud and clear
The little birds flew down to hear.

"By Berwen's banks the storm rode high,
The swollen river rushing by;
And in its waves my love was drowned,
And on its banks my love was found.

"I'll ne'er forget that leafy shade,
I'll ne'er forget that winsome maid;
But there no more she carols free,
So Berwen's banks are sad to me!"

At the last words, during the acclamations of the family, Valmai rose,
unable to bear more. There was a little cry and a soft fall by the
side of the red chair, and she lay in a white, unconscious heap on the
floor.

"Oh! Beauty, darling!" cried Gwen and Winifred, in a breath, while
they flew towards her.

Cardo, too, had instinctively rushed towards the fallen figure. He
lifted her in his strong arms as though she had been a feather-weight.

"Oh! thank you, Mr. Wynne," said Mrs. Meredith; "this way, please, to
her own room at once, where we can lay her on the couch."

And with the whole family forming a _queue_ behind them, even the
curate standing on the mat at the bottom, Cardo bore her up the
staircase and into the room which Mrs. Meredith indicated.

During a little distraction, caused by Gwen's pommelling of the sofa
cushions, Cardo for a moment lost control over his feelings, and he
pressed Valmai's form convulsively to his breast as he stooped to lay
her down on the couch. He was quickly edged away by the fluttering
womenkind who pressed round, each with her own restorative; a little
sigh from Valmai told him that she was already recovering, and casting
one lingering look of love on the white figure, he made his way
downstairs, and joined the other gentlemen, who had straggled back into
the drawing-room. He listened absently to the different conjectures as
to what had caused Valmai's faint.

"Never knew her do such a thing before!" said Colonel Meredith. "Can't
think what it was; but I do remember once she burst into tears when she
was singing some old Welsh ballad--that very one, I think--yes--'By
Berwen Banks'--strange coincidence!"

In a little while the ladies returned also. "She is all right now,"
they said, "and quite ashamed of herself; she has had a glass of wine
and a biscuit, and insiste