How Cardo longed to spring in through the lattice window, to fling the
old books away, and to draw the reader out into the gold and purple
sunset--out over the breezy cliffs, and down to the golden sands; but
the strong bonds of circumstances held him back.

The candle was lighted, and now he could see into the room. Old Essec
Powell sat beside the table with one leg thrown over the other, hands
clasped, and chin in the air, lost in the deep interest of the book
which his niece was reading.

"He looks good for two hours longer," thought Cardo, as he saw the old
man's far-away look.

There was a little tone of weariness in her voice as, seating herself
at the table by the open window, Valmai drew the candle nearer and
continued to read.

Outside in the dusky twilight Cardo was gazing his fill at the face
which had haunted him ever since he had seen it on the road from Caer
Madoc. Yes, it was a beautiful face! even more lovely than he imagined
it to be in the dim evening light. He took note of the golden wavy
hair growing low on her broad, white forehead, her darker eyebrows that
reminded him of the two arches of a beautiful bridge, under which
gleamed two clear pools, reflecting the blue of the sky and the glint
of the sunshine, the straight, well-formed nose, the pensive, mobile
mouth, the complexion of a pale pink rose, and added to this the
indescribable charm of grace and manner which spread through her
personality.