Gilbert Strongbow the Cruel, who grabbed all Cardiganshire for
himself, and dotted castles about everywhere--or else stole other
people's, which saved trouble. I know you like to picture me wherever I
am, so I must tell you at least that about Aberystwith, though
describing places seems irrelevant in my present mood. I am keyed to the
"top notch," and don't feel able to do anything leisurely. I do not
expect to sleep to-night, and shall get up as soon as it's light, and
dart down to the beach to look for amber, or carnelian, or onyx, which
they say can be found here. I asked a chambermaid of the hotel, after we
arrived this evening, what all the mysterious, stooping people were
doing on the sands, and she said searching for amber, to bring them
luck. I hope I may come across a bit--even a tiny bit. I am needing a
luck-bringer.

There was another mystery which puzzled me here: droves of pretty girls,
between twelve and twenty, flitting past the windows, on "the front,"
every few minutes; sometimes two by two, sometimes four or five
together. I thought I had never seen so many young girls. There were
enough for the girl population of a large city, yet here they were all
crowded together in this small watering-place. But the chambermaid has
swept away the mystery. It's a college, and the girls "live out" in
different houses. At the other end of the town is another college for
young men. That sounds entertaining, doesn't it?

XXXI

AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER

_Pen-y-gwrd-Hotel_,
_August 30th_

Dear Rose-Without-a-Thorn: I didn't find the amber, but Sir
Lionel found a fat little, round lump, and gave it to me; and that seems
almost more lucky than finding it myself; because it may mean that
something good is to come to me from him.

He was on the Aberystwith beach when I got there, though it was only
half-past six. He hadn't said a word the night before, but he made up
his mind then to find some amber--for me. You see, he knew the
superstition about luck, and how everybody goes hunting for it.

I picked up a pretty piece of carnelian, and gave it to him in exchange,
asking him "to keep it to remember me by."

"I don't want to remember you," he answered. And when, perhaps, I looked
hurt, he went on: "Because I want to keep you in my life. I want you
very much, if----"

But just then Mrs. Senter came behind us, and left that "if" like a key
sticking in a door which couldn't be opened without one more turn