“Truly it is both food and rest that I want, at the proper times, but what I want with you now, is to take me to your own room, and let me talk to you.”
“That is a curious desire,” returned Hafrydda, smiling, “but I will not deny you. Come this way. Have you anything secret to tell me?” she asked, when they were alone.
“Ay, that have I,” answered the woman in her natural voice, throwing off her shawl and standing erect.
The princess remained speechless, for her friend Branwen stood before her.
“Before I utter a word of explanation,” she said, “let me say that your brother is found, and safe, and well—or nearly so. This is the main thing, but I will not tell you anything more unless you give me your solemn promise not to tell a word of it all to any one till I give you leave. Do you promise?”
Hafrydda was so taken aback that she could do nothing for some time but gaze in the girl’s face. Then she laughed in an imbecile sort of way. Then she burst into tears of joy, threw her arms round her friend’s neck, hugged her tight, and promised anything—everything—that she chose to demand.
When, an hour later, the Princess Hafrydda returned to the breakfast room, she informed the king and queen that the old woman was not a beggar; that she had kept her listening to a long story about lost men and women and robbers; that she was a thorough deceiver; that some of the servants believed her to be a witch, and that she had sent her away.
“With an invitation to come back again, I’ll be bound,” cried the king, interrupting. “It’s always your way, my girl,—any one can impose on you.”
“Well, father, she did impose on me, and I did ask her to come back again.”
“I knew it,” returned the king, with a loud laugh, “and she’ll come, for certain.”