d, and smoothing it down on
each side of her face, and well back so as not to be obtrusive, she
flung the old shawl over her head, induced a series of wrinkles to
corrugate her fair brow; drew in her lips so as to conceal her teeth,
and, by the same action, to give an aquiline turn to her nose; bowed her
back, and, in short, converted herself into a little old woman!

At court, Branwen had been celebrated for her powers of mimicry, and had
been a source of great amusement to her companions in the use--sometimes
the abuse--of these powers; but this was the first occasion on which she
had thought of personating an old woman.

Having thus metamorphosed herself, she looked eagerly round as if in
search of a mirror. It need scarcely be said that glass had not been
heard of by the natives of the Tin Islands or of Albion at that time,
nevertheless, mirrors were not unknown. Espying in a corner, a great
bronze shield, that might once have flashed terror at the siege of
Troy--who knows--she set it up against the wall. It was oval in shape,
and presented her face with such a wide expanse of cheeks, that she
laughed lightly and turned it the other way. This arrangement gave her
visage such lengthened astonishment of expression, that she laughed
again, but was not ill pleased at her appearance on the whole.

To make the illusion perfect, she sought and found an article of dress,
of which the Albionic name has been forgotten, but which is known to
modern women as a petticoat. It was reddish brown in colour, and, so
far, in keeping with the grey old shawl.

While she was busy tying on this garment, and otherwise completing her
costume, almost quite forgetful in her amusement of the danger which had
driven her to that strange place, she heard voices in the outer cave,
and among them one which turned her cheeks pale, and banished every
thought of fun out of her heart. It was the voice of Gunrig!

That doughty warrior--after having partially regained the equanimity
which he had sat down on the fallen tree to recover--arose, and returned
to his apartment in the palace for the double purpose of feeding and
meditation. Being a robust man, he did not feel much the worse for the
events of the morning, and attacked a rib of roast beef with gusto.
Hearing, with great surprise, that his late antagonist was no other than
Bladud, the long-lost son of the king, he comforted himself with another
rib of roast beef, and with the reflection