"Valmai, sweet Valmai, I have left her; it could not be helped. I will
return to her on the wings of love as soon as I have fulfilled my
father's wishes." But a year--had he provided fully and properly for
her happiness during that time? Money, amply sufficient, he had left
in her uncle's keeping for her, as she had firmly refused to accept it
herself. "I shall not want it; I have plenty for myself. I have
twenty gold sovereigns in my little seal purse at home, and I shall
receive my next quarter's allowance soon. No, no, Cardo, no money
until we set up house-keeping," and he had acceded to her wishes; but
had, unknown to her, left a cheque in her uncle's keeping. "Why did I
claim from her that promise of secrecy? What if circumstances might
arise which would make it impossible for her to keep it?" He knew that
having given her promise to him, she would rather die than break it.
He had acted the part of a selfish man, who had no thought, but of his
own passionate love; the possible consequences to her had not before
occurred to his mind. But now, in the stress of the storm, while the
thunder rolled above him, and the lightning flashed over the swirling
waters, everything seemed clear and plain. He had done wrong, and he
would now face the wrong. Their happy meeting at Fordsea, as blissful
as it was unexpected, might be followed by times of trouble for
Valmai--times when she would desire to make known her marriage; and he
had left her with an embargo upon her only means of escape out of a
difficulty. Yes, the path was plain, he would write to her and release
her from her promise of secrecy. Better by far that his father should
be angered than that Valmai should suffer. Yes, it was plain to him
now; he had left the woman he loved in the anomalous position of a
married woman without a husband. What trying scenes might she not pass
through! What bitter fruits might not their brief happiness bear!
The next day they had cleared the storm, its fury having been as
short-lived as it was sudden. The sea was gradually quieting down, and
the sun shone out bravely. The sails were unfurled and the
Burrawalla once more went gaily on her way.
Cardo had spent all the morning in writing; he would send his letter by
the first opportunity. It was full of all the tender expressions of
love that might be expected under the circumstances. His pen could
scarcely keep up with the flow of his thoughts. "I have done wrong in
making you promise to keep our marriage a secret," he wrote, "and I
repent bitterly of my thoughtlessness. Many things might happen which
would make it absolutely necessary that you should disclose it. For
instance, your uncle might die; what would then become of you?
Certainly you would have your good old Uncle John to fall back upon,
and he is a host in himself. If any circumstances should arise which
would make it desirable for you to do so, remember, dearest, it is my
express wish that you should make known to all the world that you are
Valmai Wynne, the beloved wife of Caradoc Wynne." Page after page was
written with the lavish fervour of a first love-letter, very
interesting to the writer no doubt, but which we will leave to the
privacy of the envelope which Cardo addressed and sealed with such
care. He placed it in his desk, not expecting that the opportunity for
sending it would so soon arrive. In the course of the afternoon, there
was some excitement on board, for a large homeward bound ship was
sighted, which had been a good deal damaged by the storm. She had been
driven before the wind, and had borne the brunt of the gale before it
had reached the Burrawalla, having sprung a leak which considerably
impeded her course. She hove to within hailing distance, and received
the aid which the better condition of Captain Owen's ship enabled him
to confer. She was The Dundee (Captain Elliotson), bound for
Liverpool. All letters were delivered to her keeping, and the ships
went on their way, but to what different destinations. The Dundee,
after a stormy passage, was wrecked off the coast of France. The
captain and crew were saved, but the ship became a total wreck, sinking
at last in deep water; and thus Cardo's letter never reached Valmai.