“King Hudibras,” said the northern chief, in a tone that produced instant silence, “I have found the lost one—my daughter Branwen.”
As they moved through the crowd of tall warriors Bladud could not at first catch sight of the girl.
“Ha! Hafrydda,” he said, with a pleasant smile, “your young friend and companion found at last. I congratulate you. I’m so glad that—”
He stopped, the colour fled from his cheeks, his chest heaved. He almost gasped for breath. Could he believe his eyes, for there stood a girl with the features, the hair, the eyes of Cormac, but infinitely more beautiful!
For some time the poor prince stood utterly bereft of speech. Fortunately no one observed him, as all were too much taken up with what was going on. The king clasped the girl’s hands and kissed her on both cheeks. Then the queen followed, and asked her how she could have been so cruel as to remain so long away. And Branwen said a few words in reply.
It seemed as if an electric shock passed through Bladud, for the voice also was the voice of Cormac!
At this point the prince turned to look at his sister. She was gazing earnestly into his face.
“Hafrydda—is—is that really Branwen?”
“Yes, brother, that is Branwen. I must go to her.”
As she spoke, she started off at a run and threw her arms round her friend’s neck.