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!" At two o'clock punctually Cardo and his father seated themselves in the light gig, which was the only carriage the Vicar affected, and when Betto had bid him a tearful good-bye, with all the farm-servants bobbing in the background, Gwynne Ellis, grasping his hand with a warm pressure, said: "Good-bye, Wynne, and God bless you! I shall look forward with great pleasure to meeting you again when you return from Australia.

I shall stay here a week or two at your father's invitation." "Yes," said the Vicar, in a wonderfully softened tone, "it would be too trying to have the house emptied at one blow." As they drove along the high road together and crossed the little bridge over the Berwen Valley, the Vicar, pointing with his whip, drew Cardo's attention to the stile beside the bridge.
"This is the stile which I saw Ellen Vaughan crossing the day I met your mother waiting for her.

I met my brother afterwards, and oh! how blinded I was! But there, a man who is carried away by his passions is like a runaway horse, which, they say, becomes blind in the eagerness of his flight." It was needless to call Cardo's attention to the stile.