"Yes, but I am tired of myself," and Cardo heaved a deep sigh. "Well, it's no use grumbling and grunting, Shoni, and if you don't see me about next week you will know where I am gone to." "Yes--but, indeed, I am thinking Essec Powell will miss you. He think now s'no one like you in the world, 'he help me a lot, Shoni,' he say, 'with his Latin and his Greek,' and the Vicare, he says, 'it wass wonderful how many books he got on his shelfs!' and indeed I think," continued Shoni, "the two old men will live much longer now they got their noses over the same old book so often!" "I hope so," said Cardo, "and I am glad to think that the provision we have made for him has taken the sting out of his brother's 'will.'" And he went homewards as broad-shouldered and as handsome as ever, but not whistling or humming as was his wont. His father, who saw how utterly his son was failing in his endeavour to regain his peace of mind, fell in with his proposal of a visit to Gwynne Ellis with great willingness. "The very thing, Cardo, and bring him back with you if you can; he was a nice fellow on the whole in spite of his radical ideas." Once more Cardo took his way from Caer Madoc to the little wayside station which connected that secluded neighbourhood with the busy, outside world. He had written to Gwynne Ellis to inform him of his coming, and had received a warm and welcoming answer to his letter. "Come, my dear fellow; I shall be delighted to receive you in my diggings, and bring some of the poetry and charm of your lovely neighbourhood with you if you can, for this place is flat, and dull, and gray. But, by the by, I haven't told you I am likely to be removed very soon to a good, fat living, old boy, near Monmouth--but I will tell you all about it when we meet." Gwynne Ellis's present abode was on the borders of Gloucestershire, and here Cardo found him waiting for him at the station. "It's only a mile, and I thought you would like a walk, so I have told the boy to fetch your luggage in the donkey cart." "A walk will be very acceptable after sitting all day cooped up in a railway-carriage." "Well, now, tell me all about your wife. You know I have heard nothing since that one letter you wrote after you turned up again. What adventures you have had, my dear fellow! and wasn't Valmai overjoyed to see you back again?" "No, Ellis, and that is all I can say to you now. It is a long story, and I would rather wait until later in the evening." "All right, old fellow, in the smoking-room to-night." And in the smoking-room that night they sat late, Cardo opening his heart to his friend, recounting to him the tale of his unfortunate illness in Australia, his return home, and the unexpected blow of Valmai's unrelenting anger and changed feelings towards him, culminating in her utter rejection of him, and refusal to live with him.