"There is a tear on your ring, dear," he said, kissing it, "that must not be; let that at all events be the emblem of meeting and happiness and joy. Think, Valmai, only a year, and I shall come and claim you for my own! Confess, dearest, that it is a little solace that we are united before we are parted, that, whatever happens, you are my wife and I am your husband." "Yes, indeed; indeed, it is my only solace, and I am going to be brave and hopeful. My ring I must not wear on my finger; but see, I have brought a white satin ribbon to tie it round my neck; it shall always be there until you take it off, and place it on my finger again." "And you will keep our secret until I return, darling?" "Yes," said Valmai impressively, "_until you come back, Cardo, and give me leave to reveal it_." "We must part, fanwylyd; my father must not miss me." "No, no--go, I will not keep you back." There was a long, passionate embrace, during which the white owl flapped in again to her nest. "Good-bye and good-bye, darling, and farewell until we meet again." "Leave me here, Cardo. Good-bye, dearest husband!" And so they parted, and, in the memory of both, for many a long year the sound of the Berwen held a place, and the flap of the white owl's wings brought back to Valmai memories of pain and happiness, mixed together in a strange tumult. Slowly she made her way up the path to Dinas, the scarlet cloak was taken out from the bush under which it had been hidden, and, enveloped in its folds, she entered the house. Going up to her own room, she took off the sacred wedding dress, and, folding it carefully, laid it away with its bunch of jessamine, while she donned another much like it, but of a warmer material, for she loved white, and seldom appeared in a coloured dress. With Cardo the hours slipped by quickly. His father had many last directions to give him, and Betto had endless explanations to make. "You will find your gloves in your pocket, Mr. Cardo, and your clean handkerchiefs are in the leather portmanteau; but only six are by themselves in the little black bag." Gwynne Ellis had accompanied his friends to their lodgings at Abersethin, and after breakfast returned to Brynderyn; they had all been charmed with the bride's appearance. "By Jove! Ellis," Chester had said, "I think I envy that Wynne in spite of the parting. I have never seen such a lovely bride!" "Any more pearls of the sort to be found in this out-of-the-way place?" asked Wilson. "No, I have seen none," said Ellis; "and I doubt if you will find one anywhere," for he was an enthusiastic admirer of Valmai. "I have quite enjoyed the part we have taken in this romantic little affair--eh, Wilson?" "Ra--ther!" he replied. "But don't forget it is to be a dead secret," said Ellis, as he left the door. "Oh! honour bright!"