By Berwen Banks

By Berwen Banks, by Allen
Raine

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Title: By Berwen Banks
Author: Allen Raine

Release Date: July 4, 2006 [eBook #18758]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY
BERWEN BANKS***
E-text prepared by Al Haines

BY BERWEN BANKS

a Novel
by
ALLEN RAINE
Author of "A Welsh Singer," "Torn Sails," etc.
111TH THOUSAND

London Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row

CONTENTS
I. BERWEN BANKS II. THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF III. THE
SASSIWN IV. THE STORM V. GWYNNE ELLIS ARRIVES VI.
CORWEN AND VALMAI VII. THE VICAR'S STORY VIII. THE
OLD REGISTER IX. REUBEN STREET X. THE WEB OF FATE XI.
THE "BLACK DOG" XII. A CLIMAX XIII. "THE BABIES'
CORNER" XIV. UNREST XV. THE SISTERS XVI. DISPERSING
CLOUDS XVII. HOME AGAIN XVIII. THE VELVET WALK XIX.
THE MEREDITHS XX. GWLADYS XXI. INTO THE SUNSHINE

BY BERWEN BANKS.
CHAPTER I.
BERWEN BANKS.
Caer Madoc is a sleepy little Welsh town, lying two miles from the sea
coast. Far removed from the busy centres of civilisation, where the
battle of life breeds keen wits and deep interests, it is still, in the
opinion of its inhabitants, next to London, the most important place in
the United Kingdom. It has its church and three chapels, its mayor and

corporation, jail, town hall, and market-place; but, more especially, it
has its fairs, and awakes to spasmodic jollity on such occasions, which
come pretty often--quite ten times in the year. In the interims it resigns
itself contentedly to its normal state of lethargy.
The day on which my story opens had seen the busiest and merriest fair
of the year, and the evening found the little town looking jaded and
disreputable after its few hours of dissipation, the dusty High Street
being littered with scraps of paper, orange-peel, and such like débris.
The merry-go-rounds and the "shows" had departed, the last
donkey-cart had rattled out of the town, laden with empty gingerbread
boxes.
In the stable of the Red Dragon three men stooped in conclave over the
hind foot of a horse. Deio, the ostler, and Roberts, the farrier, agreed in
their verdict for a wonder; and Caradoc Wynne, the owner of the horse,
straightened himself from his stooping posture with a nod of decision.
"Yes, it's quite plain I mustn't ride him to-night," he said. "Well, I'll
leave him under your care, Roberts, and will either come or send for
him to-morrow."
"Needn't do that, sir," said Roberts, "for I am going myself to
Abersethin on Friday; that will give him one day's complete rest, and
I'll bring him up gently with my nag."
"That will do better," said the young man. "Take care of him, Deio," he
added, in good, broad Welsh, "and I will pay you well for your
trouble," and, with a pat on Captain's flank and a douceur in Deio's
ready palm, he turned to leave the yard. Looking back from under the
archway which opened into the street, with a parting injunction to
Roberts to "take care of him," he turned up the dusty High Street.
"Pagh!" he said, "it has been a jolly fair, but it hasn't sweetened the air.
However, I shall soon have left it behind me," and he stepped out
briskly towards the straggling end of the street, which merged into a
wild moorland country.

"There's a difference between him and his father," said Deio to his
companion, as they led Captain back to his stall. "See the old 'Vicare
du' hunting between his coppers for a threepenny bit! Jâr i man! you
would think it was a sovereign he was looking for."
"Yes," said Roberts, "the old Vicare is a keen man enough, but just;
always pays his bills regularly; he is not as black as they make him out
to be."
"No, I daresay! They say the devil isn't, either," said Deio.
It was very evident the person in question was no favourite of his.
Meanwhile Caradoc, or Cardo as he was called all over the country side,
the "Vicare du's" only son, had begun his tramp homewards with a light
heart and a brisk step. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with health
and youthful energy expressed in every limb and feature, with jet black
hair and sparkling eyes to match. His dark, almost swarthy face, was
lighted up by a pleasant smile, which seemed ever hovering about the
corners of his mouth, and which would make itself evident