On the following Saturday Essec Powell returned from the funeral, and as he stepped out of the gig at the door, his face wore an unusual expression which Valmai noticed at once. He seemed more alive to the world around him; there was a red spot on each cheek, and he did not answer his niece's low greeting, but walked into the parlour with a stamping tread very unlike his usual listless shuffle. "Are you tired, uncle?" the girl asked gently. "No, I am not tired; but I am hurt and offended with you, Valmai. You are a sly, ungrateful girl, and it is very hard on me, a poor, struggling preacher very badly paid, to find that my only brother has left all his worldly goods to you, who are already well provided for. What do you think yourself? Wasn't it a shame on you to turn him against his brother?" "Oh, I never did," said Valmai; "I never thought of such a thing! Dear, dear Uncle John! I didn't want his money, I only wanted his love." "What is the matter?" said Gwen, coming in. "Matter enough," said her master, in angry, stammering tones. "John, my brother, has left all his money to this Judas of a girl! A hundred and fifty pounds a year, if you please! and only a paltry 100 pounds to me, and the same to Jim Harris, the sailor. Ach y fi! the greediness of people is enough to turn on me." Between Gwen's exclamations and Essec Powell's angry harping on the same string, the evening was made miserable to Valmai, and she was glad enough to escape to her bedroom. The next day she awoke with a throbbing headache. "You are not going to chapel to-day, I suppose?" said Gwen. "No, my head aches too badly. I have never missed before, but to-day I think I will rest at home." "Yes, rest at home, certainly," said Gwen. "You ought to have stopped at home long ago; in my opinion, it would be more decent." Her meaning was too plain, and Valmai's head drooped as she answered: "Perhaps it would have been wiser, considering all things." "Considering all things, indeed!" sneered Gwen. "Yes, they will turn you out of the 'Sciet, because when the calf won't go through the scibor door he has to be pushed out!" And with a toss of her head she carried the tray away. It was a miserable day for Valmai, and not even after events of more bitterness were able to efface it from her memory. She roamed about the house restlessly, and round the garden, which was beginning to show signs of the budding life which had slept through the storms and snows of winter. Already in a sheltered corner she detected the scent of violets, an early daffodil nodded at her, a bee hummed noisily, and a sweet spring breeze swept over the garden. What memories it awoke within her! How long ago it seemed since she and Cardo had roamed together by the Berwen! Years and years ago, surely! Her reverie was disturbed by Shoni, who, coming back early from chapel, had found his way into the garden.