"A fine fellow! a son to be proud of!" And when Gwynne Ellis joined him at tea, they vied with each other in their praises of Cardo's character.
If Cardo had followed his impulse and returned to look over the stile, he would have found on the mossy hedge inside a little white heap of misery.

For Valmai, who had watched for an hour to catch a last glimpse of him, had been frightened when she saw the "Vicare du" looking towards the stile, and evidently drawing Cardo's attention to it; she had shrunk back until they had passed, and then standing on the hedge, had waved a last good-bye, and immediately afterwards slipped down in an abandonment of grief.

She remained for some time sobbing and moaning on the grass, until at last her passion of tears subsided.
Almost suddenly growing calmer, she stood up, and, not attempting to dry her eyes, let the tears roll slowly down her cheeks.

She clasped her hands, and tried to steady her voice as, looking up at the flying clouds above her, she spoke words of encouragement to herself.
"Valmai," she said, "you must learn to bear your sorrow in silence; you are no longer a girl--you are a wife! and you must be a brave and good woman!" For a moment she continued to look steadily up at the clouds and beyond them into the depths of blue sky which showed here and there between the storm rifts, then she quietly put on her hat and returned down the well-known path to the river, and with steady, set face and firm step made her way homeward.
When her uncle appeared at the tea-table, he carried two large books under his arm, and when the meal was over the lamp was lighted and the red curtains drawn.

Up here on the cliffs the wind was already blowing furiously; it roared in the chimneys, and found its way in through every chink in the badly-fitting windows.
"Now, let me see--chap.