he went satisfied to his bed, and slept the sleep of the
just, or, at all events--of the busy farmer!

[1] Beloved.

CHAPTER VI.

CORWEN AND VALMAI.

Gwynne Ellis soon found himself quite at home at Brynderyn, and enjoyed
the freedom and variety of his life in its picturesque neighbourhood.

To Cardo, who had hitherto been so much alone, his presence was a very
pleasant change, and though Ellis was a complete contrast to himself in
every way, he liked him, and felt the advantage of companionship; more
especially in the evenings, when, his father shut up in his study, and
the old parlour but dimly lighted, he had always found the time hang
rather heavily. He was wont to relieve the tedium of the evening hour
by strolling into the kitchen, sitting in the rush chair, always looked
upon as the young master's, and freely entering into the games or
gossip of the farm-servants. He was much amused at the enthusiasm and
romance of his new-found friend, who, coming from a populous and
uninteresting border country, was charmed by the unconventional ways of
the Welsh coast. He threw a glamour of poetry and romance over the
most commonplace incidents; and Cardo, to tease him, would often assume
a stolid and unimpressionable manner that he was far from feeling.

On the whole, they pulled well together, and the acquaintance, begun
accidentally, bid fair to become a lifelong friendship.

Immediately after breakfast every morning, Gwynne Ellis, armed with
brushes, palettes, and divers other encumbrances, would ramble away
over shore or cliff, bringing with him in the evening the most
beautiful scenes and views of the neighbourhood, which his deft brush
had transferred to the pages of his portfolio. He was a true artist,
and, moreover, possessed one admirable trait, generally lacking in
inferior artists, namely, humility! And as he held up for Cardo's
inspection an exquisite sketch of sea and sky and tawny beach, he
waited anxiously for his criticisms, having found out that though his
friend was no artist himself, his remarks were always regulated by good
taste and common sense.

"_That_ Nance's cottage?" Cardo was saying to-night as he sat in the
rush chair by the fire in the farm kitchen--Ellis on a bench beside
him, the little round table supporting the portfolio before them, "that
cosy, picturesque-looking cottage Nance's! those opal tints over sea
and sky--that blue smoke curling from the chimney, and that c