The Hot Swamp

exception to the rule. It was, as it were, the dawn ofwomen's freedom--the insertion of the small end of that wedge whichChristianity and civilisation were destined to drive home--sometimes toofar home!

  Gradually the hall began to fill, and the hum of conversation becameloud, when there was a slight bustle at the door which caused amodification though not a cessation of the noise.

  It was caused by the entrance of Gadarn leading Branwen by the hand.The girl was now dressed in the costume that befitted her age and sex,and it is best described by the word simplicity. Her rich auburn hairfell in short natural curls on her neck--the luxuriant volume of ithaving, as the reader is aware, been sacrificed some time before. Shewore no ornament of any kind save, on one side of her beautiful head, asmall bunch of wild-flowers that had survived the frost.

  At the time of their entrance, Bladud was stooping to talk with Hafryddaand did not observe them, but when he heard Gadarn's sonorous voice heturned with interest to listen.

  "King Hudibras," said the northern chief, in a tone that producedinstant silence, "I have found the lost one--my daughter Branwen."

  As they moved through the crowd of tall warriors Bladud could not atfirst catch sight of the girl.

  "Ha! Hafrydda," he said, with a pleasant smile, "your young friend andcompanion found at last. I congratulate you. I'm so glad that--"

  He stopped, the colour fled from his cheeks, his chest heaved. Healmost gasped for breath. Could he believe his eyes, for there stood agirl with the features, the hair, the eyes of Cormac, but infinitelymore 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 whatwas going on. The king clasped the girl's hands and kissed her on bothcheeks. Then the queen followed, and asked her how she could have beenso cruel as to remain so long away. And Branwen said a few words inreply.

  It seemed as if an electric shock passed through Bladud, for the voicealso was the voice of Cormac!

  At this point the prince turned to look at his sister. She was gazingearnestly 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 herfriend's neck.

  "I cannot--cannot believe it is you," she exclaimed aloud--and then,whispering in Branwen's ear, "oh! you wicked creature, to make such ahypocrite of me. But come," she added aloud, "come to my room. I musthave you all to myself alone."

  For one moment, as they passed, Branwen raised her eyes, and, as theymet those of the prince, a deep blush overspread her face. Anothermoment and the two friends had left the hall together.

  We need not weary the reader by describing the games and festivitiesthat followed. Such matters have probably been much the same, in allimportant respects, since the beginning of time. There was a vastamount of enthusiasm, and willingness to be contented with little, onthe part of the people, and an incredible desire to talk and delaymatters, and waste time, on the part of judges, umpires, and starters,but there was nothing particularly noteworthy, except that Bladudconsented to run one race with his friend Dromas, and was signallybeaten by him, to the secret satisfaction of Hafrydda, and the openamusement of the king.

  But Branwen did not appear at the games, nor did she appear again duringthe remainder of that day, and poor Bladud was obliged to restrain hisanxiety, for he felt constrained to remain beside his father, and,somehow, he failed in his various attempts to have a few words ofconversation with his mother.

  At last, like all sublunary things, the games came to an end, and theprince hastened to his sister's room.

  "May I come in?" he asked, knocking.

  "Yes, brother."

  There was a peculiar tone in her voice, and a curious expression in hereyes, that the prince did not fail to note.

  "Hafrydda," he exclaimed, eagerly, "there is _no_ Cormac?"

  "True, brother, there is no Cormac--there never was. Branwen and Cormacare one!"

  "And you knew it--and _she_ knew it, all along. Oh, why did you agreeto deceive me?"

  "Nay, brother, I did not mean to deceive you--at least not at first.Neither did Branwen. I knew nothing about it till she came home, afterbeing with you at the Swamp, and told me that she was impelled by sheerpity to follow you, intending to nurse you; thinking at first that wehad let you go to die alone. Then she was caught in the woods byrobbers, and she only escaped from them by putting on a boy's dress andrunning away. They gave chase, however, caught her up, and, had it notbeen for you, would have recaptured her. The rest you know. But now,brother, I am jealous for my dear friend. She has expressed fear that,in her great pity for you, she may be thought to have acted an unwomanlypart, and that you will perhaps despise her."

  "Unwomanly! despise!" exclaimed Bladud in amazement. "Hafrydda, do youregard me as a monster of ingratitude?"

  "Nay, brother, that do I not. I think that you could never despise onewho has felt such genuine pity for you as to risk and endure so much."

  "Hafrydda, do you think there is no stronger feeling than pity for me inthe heart of Branwen?" asked Bladud in a subdued, earnest voice.

  "That you must find out for yourself, brother," answered the princess."Yet after all, if you are only fond of Cormac, what matters the feelingthat may be in the heart of Branwen? Are you in love with her already,Bladud, after so short an acquaintance?"

  "In love with her!" exclaimed the prince. "There is no Cormac. Thereis but one woman in the wide world now--"

  "That is not complimentary to your mother and myself, I fear,"interrupted his sister.

  "But," continued the prince, paying no regard to the interruption, "isthere any chance--any hope--of--of--something stronger than pity beingin her heart?"

  "I say again, ask that of herself, Bladud; but now I think of it," addedthe princess, leaping up in haste, "I am almost too late to keep anappointment with Dromas!"

  She went out hurriedly, and the prince, full of new-born hopes mingledwith depressing anxieties, went away into the neighbouring woods tomeditate--for, in the haste of her departure, Hafrydda had neglected totell him where Branwen was to be found, and he shrank from mentioningher name to any one else.

  But accident--as we call it--sometimes brings about what the mostlaboured design fails to accomplish.

  Owing to a feeling of anxiety which she could not shake off, Branwen hadgone out that evening to cool her fevered brow in the woods, just a fewminutes before the prince entered them. It was a strange coincidence;but are not all coincidences strange?

  Seating herself on a fallen tree she cast up her eyes towards the skywhere a solitary star, like a beacon of hope, was beginning to twinkle.She had not been there more than a few minutes when a rustle in theneighbouring thicket startled her. Almost before she had time to lookround the prince stood before her. She trembled, for now she felt thatthe decisive hour had come--whether for good or evil.

  Seating himself beside her, the prince took one of her hands in his andlooked steadily into her downcast face.

  "Corm--Bran--" he began, and stopped.

  She looked up.

  "Branwen," he said, in a low, calm voice, "will it pain you very much toknow that I am glad--inexpressibly glad--that there is no youth Cormacin all the wide world?"

  Whether she was pained or not the girl did not say, but there was alanguage in her eyes which induced Bladud to slip his disengaged armround--well, well, there are some things more easily conceived thandescribed. She seemed about to speak, but Bladud stopped her mouth--how, we need not tell--not rudely, you may be sure--suffice to say thatwhen the moon arose an hour later, and looked down into the forest thatevening she saw the prince and Branwen still seated, hand in hand, onthe fallen tree, gazing in rapt attention at the stars.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

  THE LAST.

  When Bladud walked out to the Hebrew's hut next day and informed him ofwhat
had taken place, that long-suffering man heaved a deep sigh andexpressed his intense relief that the whole affair was at last clearedup and had come to an end.

  "I cannot view matters in the same light that you do, Beniah," said theprince, "for, in my opinion, things have only now come to a satisfactorybeginning. However, I suppose that you are thinking of the strangeperplexities in which you have been involved so long."

  "I would not style them perplexities, prince, but intrigues--obvious andunjustifiable intrigues--in which innocent persons have been broughtfrequently to the verge of falsehood--if they have not, indeed, beenforced to overstep the boundary."

  "Surely, Beniah, circumstances, against which none of us had power tocontend, had somewhat to do with it all, as well as intrigue."

  "I care