"I am not going to play the _role_ of a love-sick swain, my grief will be buried too deep for a careless touch to reach it, and I hope I shall not forget I am a man.

I have also the comfort of knowing that my sorrow is the consequence of my misfortunes and not of my faults." Soon things seemed to fall into the old groove at Brynderyn, as far as Cardo and his father were concerned, except that that which had been wanting before, namely, a warm and loving understanding between them, now reigned in both their hearts, and sweetened their daily intercourse.

The west parlour and all the rooms on that side of the house, which had been unused for so many years, were opened up again, and delivered over to the care of Mr.and Mrs.Lewis Wynne, who kept their own establishment there, thus avoiding the necessity of interfering with Meurig Wynne's eccentric habits, and still enabling them to meet round the cheerful hearth in the evening, or whenever they chose.
As for Cardo, he threw all his energies into the busy work of the farm--the earliest in the field in the morning, the latest to leave it at night, nothing was too small for his supervision, no work was too hard for him to undertake; and though he declared he was well, quite well, still, it was evident to those around him that he was overtaxing his strength.

The flashing light had gone out of those black eyes, the spring from his gait, the softness from his voice.

He paid frequent visits to Nance's cottage, always returning across the corner of the churchyard.