There had been a whisper, then mysterious nods and smiles, and cruel gossip had spread abroad the evil tidings.
Valmai bore all in patient silence.

Her longing for Cardo's return amounted almost to an agony, yet the thought of explaining her position, and clearing her name before the world, never entered her head, or, if it did, was instantly expelled.

No; the whole world might spurn her; she might die; but to reveal a secret which Cardo had desired her to keep, seemed to her faithful and guileless nature an unpardonable breach of honour.
Gwen, who had not been immaculate herself, was her cruellest enemy, never losing an opportunity of inflicting a sting upon her helpless victim, whose presence in the household she had always resented.
The day following Gwen's sneering remark, Valmai took her daily walk to Abersethin post-office.
The old man beamed at her over his counter.
"Letter come at last, miss," he said.
And her heart stood still.

She was white to the lips as she sat down on a convenient sack of maize.
"It is a long walk," said the postmaster, hunting about for the letter.
"Dear me, wherrs I put it ?" And he looked in a box of bloaters and a basket of eggs.
"Here it is.

I 'member now; I put it safe with the cheese was to go to Dinas." Valmai took it with trembling fingers; it had a deep black edge.
"It is not for me," she said.
"Indeed! I was not notice that.