"Yes—I was crossing the bridge at the same time. Is she any the worse for her wetting?"
"Not much the matter with her," said Gwen; "'tis lying down she is, a good deal,—miladi is a bit lazy, I think," and with this scant information he had perforce to be content.
When he returned to Brynderyn to breakfast, he found his father looking somewhat discomposed as he read and re-read a letter which he had just received. He made no comment upon its contents, however, but looking up said:
"You must have found the storm very interesting, Cardo; what kept you out so late?"
He did not add that he had paced up and down for an hour in his bedroom after retiring for the night, peering out into the darkness in great anxiety for his son's safety.
"Very interesting, father; nothing less than a ducking on the Rock Bridge! The storm was raging furiously there, and a girl was crossing in the midst of it; she was in some danger, and I was able to help her to cross in safety."
"One of our congregation?" asked the old man.
"By Jove! no, father; there isn't one girl under seventy in our congregation!"
"A Methodist, then, I suppose—one of Essec Powell's lot?"
"Yes," said Cardo, beginning to redden; "but surely you wouldn't let a woman be drowned without making an effort to save her because she was a Methodist?"