She stood by a great press against the wall, and as she spoke, as if by chance, she swung the door open, so that I had a glimpse of the mighty piles of homespun cloth and linen, her pride, which lay therein, Truly she had to spare, and I laughed.
"Mistress," I said, "be not offended. I am in haste, for we must go hence tonight. There is no time for planning and cutting and making."
She turned, swinging the heavy press door to and fro.
"Tonight!" she said, with wide eyes; "why so hasty?"
"Because her father lies wounded across the Wye, and we have to go to him. Maybe we shall have to ransom him."
"Man," she cried, "those Welsh are swarming beyond the river. Ken you what you are doing with this poor damsel?"
"Ay," answered I plainly: "I am taking her out of the way of Quendritha and of Gymbert. I have the word of Jefan the prince for our safety."
"Get to him," she said at once, "get to him straightway; he is honest. And on my word, if Gymbert is the man you saved her from last night, there is no time to be lost."
"He does not know where she has gone."
"Did not," she said. "By this time he kens well enough. Go, and all shall be ready."