In less than ten minutes the two young men had left Caer Madoc behind, and were fast lessening the distance between them and Brynderyn.
"Very kind of you to meet me; and what a splendid horse," said Gwynne
Ellis. "Carries his head well, and a good stepper."
"Fond of horses?" asked Cardo.
"Oh! very," said the high-toned voice; "riding and painting are the chief delights of my life—"
"We can give you plenty of riding—'Jim,' here, is always at your service; and as for the painting—well, I know nothing about it myself, but I think I can show you as pretty bits of scenery as you ever saw within the four sides of a gilt frame." And as they drew near the top of the moor, where they caught sight of the long stretch of coast, with its bays and cliffs and purple shadows, the new-comer was lost in admiration.
Cardo, who had been accustomed all his life to the beauties of the coast, was amused at his friend's somewhat extravagant exclamations.
"Oh, charming!" he said taking off his glasses and readjusting them on his well-shaped nose; "see those magnificent rocks—sepia and cobalt; and that cleft in the hills running down to the shore—ultra marine; and what a flood of crimson glory on the sea—carmine, rose madder—and—er—er—"
"By Jove! it will be a wonderful paint box that can imitate those colours," said Cardo, with a nod at the sunset.
"Ah, true!" said Gwynne Ellis, "one would need a spirit brush dipped in ethereal fire,
"'A broad and ample road whose dust is gold,
Open, ye heavens! your living doors—'"