‘What a terrible lot for a little maid to do!’ cried Gerna. ‘I don’t believe one will ever be found to do all that, however kind she is.’
‘That is just what Hager believed,’ said the voice sadly. ‘And yet I was once hopeful that such a dear little child would be found, or rather would find this purse with its helpless prisoner inside, and take compassion on me. But as the long years dragged on, and no such little maiden came to my help, hope died within me, and I was in utter despair, until you discovered me half hidden under some seaweed, picked me up, and brought me hither. And now hope has begun to revive in my heart again.’
‘Have you been in this prison-purse a long time?’ asked Gerna, who dimly felt that the poor little prisoner was appealing to her pity.
‘A very long time,’ sighed the little voice—‘one hundred years all but a few days.’
‘My goodness gracious!’ exclaimed the little Cornish maid in great amazement. ‘How terrible old you must be—older even than my Great-Grannie, who is ever so much past ninety.’
‘I suppose I am old, as you count age,’ said the little voice, in which Gerna detected a laugh.
‘Have you really been in this bag ninety-nine years?’ she asked, not being able to get over her surprise.
‘Yes; and I am grieved to say the hour for my release has almost come. Before the birth of the new moon, which is on Friday next, Hager will take me out, if no child before that time carries me over the bog and moor, and passes me through the Tolmên.’
‘Was it only ‘cause you wouldn’t marry that old Spriggan king you got put into this prison?’ asked Gerna.
‘Yes, that was the only reason,’ answered the little voice. ‘I happened to be beautiful, you see, and because of my beauty he stole me away from my own dear little True Love, who was just going to marry me. If it ends, as I fear it will, in his getting me into his power again, I and my True Love will break our hearts.’