"Really and truly, Valmai; signed, sealed, and delivered," he said; "and let me see the man who dares to come between us!" and his black eyes flashed with a look of angry defiance which Valmai had not seen there before. "Oh, anwl! I hope your eyes will never look like that at me," she said. "But they will," said Cardo, laughing, "if you are the culprit who tries to divide us. You don't know how fierce I can be." "Please, sir, can I take the tea-things now?" "On condition that you come back at once. No, let me carry them out for you, dearest; you shall not begin by waiting upon me." "Oh, but I must, Cardo, for old Mrs. Finch goes home when she has brought the tea in always." And she laughed merrily at Cardo's clumsy efforts at clearing away. As she opened the door into the passage a tremendous roaring and snorting filled the air. "What on earth is that?" said Cardo. "It is my uncle snoring, and if you dropped that tray (which I am afraid you will) the clatter wouldn't awake him." "Good old man! let him rest, then. You are not going to wash up those things?" "No, Mrs. Finch will do that in the morning. And now, Cardo, I must do what my uncle told me to do," she said, as they returned into the cosy parlour, glowing with the light of the blazing fire; and, holding up her dress with her two fingers, she made a prim little curtsey, and said: "I hope your tea has been to your liking, sir? And now for the rest of my duty. Here is his jar of tobacco, and here is the kettle on the hob, and here is the bottle of whisky, and here are the slippers which I had prepared for you." "Little did I think, Valmai, it was you who had made everything look so cosy and sweet for me--these flowers on the table and all those pretty fal-lals on my dressing-table. Little did I think it was my little wife who had prepared them all for me. But as I entered the front door a strange feeling of happiness and brightness came over me." "And I knew the first tone of your voice, Cardo. Oh, I would know it anywhere--among a thousand." There were innumerable questions for the one to ask and the other to answer as they sat in the glowing firelight. First, there was the description of the repairs required by Captain Owen's ship--"Blessed repairs, Valmai!"--and the extraordinary special Providence which had caused the ss. _Ariadne_ to collide at midships with the _Burrawalla_, and, moreover, so to damage her that Cardo's berth and those of the three other inmates of his cabin would alone be disturbed by the necessary repairs. "Captain Owen thinks we shall be ready to sail in three days, so it is not worth while writing to my father," said Cardo. "The thick fog which looked so dismal as I drove into Caer Madoc with him--how little I guessed it would culminate in the darkness which brought about the collision, and so unite me with my beloved wife. Valmai, if Providence ever arranged a marriage, it was yours and mine, dearest." "But, Cardo--"