“I know better,” returned the other, with some bitterness. “Did he not intend to make you wed against your wishes?”
“That is true,” replied the gentle Hafrydda, with a sigh. “But I am saved from that now,” she added, brightening up suddenly, “and that reminds me of the good news. Do you know who the handsome youth is who rescued me from this monster?”
“No, I don’t; and I’m sure I don’t care,” answered Branwen, with a touch of petulance. “At all events, I suppose you will be glad of the change of husbands.”
“He will never be my husband,” returned the princess, somewhat amused by her friend’s tone, for she suspected the cause. “He is my brother Bladud—my long-lost brother!”
The change that came over Branwen’s pretty face on hearing this was remarkable.
“Your brother!” she exclaimed. “No wonder that he is beautiful, as well as brave!”
A merry laugh broke from the princess as she kissed her friend. “Well, but,” she said, “what will you do? You know that always, when I have been perplexed or in trouble, I have come to you for help and advice. Now that things are turned the other way, I know not what advice to give you.”
“I have settled what to do,” answered Branwen, drying her eyes, and looking up with the air of one whose mind has been suddenly and firmly made up. “Your father, I know, will consent to Gunrig’s wishes. If he did not, there would be war again—horrible war—between the tribes. I will never be the cause of that if I can help it. At the same time, it would kill me to wed with Gunrig. I would rather die than that; therefore—I will run away.”
“And leave me?” exclaimed the princess anxiously.
“Well, I should have to leave you, at any rate, if I stay and am compelled to marry Gunrig.”