It was natural that the thought of Valmai should enter his mind, and that he should long for her presence; but it was not natural that he, a young and healthy man, in the first flush of his manhood, should feel this strange depression, this dark cloud hanging over him, whenever he thought of his young wife.

It was unlike Cardo.

If his life had been devoid of any special interest or excitement, it had at least been free from care.

Not even his lonely childhood, or his dull, old home had dimmed the brightness and elasticity of his spirits.

He had never had a cobweb in his brain, and this haunting shadow which followed every sweet memory of his wife was beginning to rouse his resentment, and while the storm raged around him, and the ship ploughed her way through the seething waters, Cardo Wynne, set himself with manful determination to face the "black dog" which had haunted him lately; and somewhat in this groove ran his thoughts.
"Valmai, sweet Valmai, I have left her; it could not be helped.