“Yes, and you know that he knows, and he knows that I know, and we all know that each other knows, and why there should be any objection that every one should know is more than I can—”
“Never mind, Beniah,” interrupted the girl, with the slightest possible smile. “You are a dear, good old creature, and I know you won’t betray me. Remember your solemn promise.”
“Truly I shall not forget it soon,” replied the Hebrew, “for the trouble it has cost me already to compose answers that should not be lies is beyond your light-hearted nature to understand.”
“Ah! yes, indeed,” rejoined Branwen, with a sigh of mock humility, “I was always very lighthearted by nature. The queen used frequently to tell me so—though she never said it was by ‘nature,’ and the king agreed with her—though by the way he used to laugh, I don’t think he thought light-heartedness to be very naughty. But come, Beniah, I am longing to hear what my father commissioned you to say or do.”
“Well, he was very particular in cautioning me not to tell what I know—”
“Ah! that knowledge, what a dreadful thing it is to have too much of it! Well, what more?”
“He told me what I have already told you, and bid me add from himself that he has fallen on the tracks of the lad Cormac, and that he is sure to be found in this neighbourhood.”
“That, at least, will be no lie,” suggested the maid.
“I’m not so sure of that, for the lad Cormac will never be found here or anywhere else, having no existence at all.”
Branwen laughed at this and expressed surprise. “It seems to me,” she said, “that age or recent worries must have touched your brain, Beniah, for if the lad Cormac has no existence at all, how is it possible that you could meet with him at the Hot Swamp, and even make a solemn promise to him.”