"Na, na. A fair fight is what you said. 'Tis all I can do."
"And you will?"
"I love you," he persisted stubbornly.
She closed her eyes tightly and leaned back against the wooden shutter, her hands still held close in his grasp. And she strove to see clearly through the mist of horror and pain. It was a chance, at least a fighting chance, to save Davy, her prince; the only chance, the only way, and outside that what else mattered?
Her eyes opened and her lips trembled; then she got her strength back and faced him in the dim dawn.
"My life for theirs, Tad,—is that it?"
Her eyes and her question shamed him, but he clung to his text doggedly, for he had loved her long and hopelessly in his wild, stubborn way, and this was his first and only desperate chance.
"I love ye, Gwenith, I love ye!"
There came a stir in the far hall, a long-drawn yawn; and at the sound the girl whispered fiercely: "Well, it's a bargain; give them fair warning and I'll—I'll do—give you your will. Yes, I swear it by the dear Saint David. Quick! let me go—no, not now!—Tad, I command you, I—I—Quick! that's Garm's voice; let me go."