AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER
Pen-y-gwrd-Hotel,
August 30th
Dear Rose-Without-a-Thorn: I didn't find the amber, but Sir Lionel found a fat little, round lump, and gave it to me; and that seems almost more lucky than finding it myself; because it may mean that something good is to come to me from him.
He was on the Aberystwith beach when I got there, though it was only half-past six. He hadn't said a word the night before, but he made up his mind then to find some amber—for me. You see, he knew the superstition about luck, and how everybody goes hunting for it.
I picked up a pretty piece of carnelian, and gave it to him in exchange, asking him "to keep it to remember me by."
"I don't want to remember you," he answered. And when, perhaps, I looked hurt, he went on: "Because I want to keep you in my life. I want you very much, if——"
But just then Mrs. Senter came behind us, and left that "if" like a key sticking in a door which couldn't be opened without one more turn. I should have liked to know what was behind the door; but I daresay there was nothing much, really.
She, too, had come to look for amber and other things. I don't know about the other things, but she didn't find the amber.
At eleven o'clock, after seeing something of the place, we slipped away toward Machynlleth, along a hilly road, which grew lovelier with each of its many twists among low mountains. Now, said Sir Lionel, we were about to see the heart of Wales; and I should soon have realized that without his telling, for as we slowed down to pass through little villages we heard the children talking Welsh—a soft, pleasant language, which I can only try to describe by saying that it sounded like whispering out loud. But that is a very Irish description!