Branwen, with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, and you know that he knows, and he knows that I know, and we all
know that each other knows, and why there should be any objection that
every one should know is more than I can--"

"Never mind, Beniah," interrupted the girl, with the slightest possible
smile. "You are a dear, good old creature, and I know you won't betray
me. Remember your solemn promise."

"Truly I shall not forget it soon," replied the Hebrew, "for the trouble
it has cost me already to compose answers that should not be lies is
beyond your light-hearted nature to understand."

"Ah! yes, indeed," rejoined Branwen, with a sigh of mock humility, "I
was always very lighthearted by nature. The queen used frequently to
tell me so--though she never said it was by `nature,' and the king
agreed with her--though by the way he used to laugh, I don't think he
thought light-heartedness to be _very_ naughty. But come, Beniah, I am
longing to hear what my father commissioned you to say or do."

"Well, he was very particular in cautioning me _not_ to tell what I
know--"

"Ah! that knowledge, what a dreadful thing it is to have too much of it!
Well, what more?"

"He told me what I have already told you, and bid me add from himself
that he has fallen on the tracks of the lad Cormac, and that he is sure
to be found in this neighbourhood."

"That, at least, will be no lie," suggested the maid.

"I'm not so sure of that, for the lad Cormac will never be found here or
anywhere else, having no existence at all."

Branwen laughed at this and expressed surprise. "It seems to me," she
said, "that age or recent worries must have touched your brain, Beniah,
for if the lad Cormac has no existence at all, how is it possible that
you could meet with him at the Hot Swamp, and even make a solemn promise
to him."

Beniah did not reply to this question, but rose to make preparation for
his journey. Then, as if suddenly recollecting something that had
escaped him, he returned to his seat.

"My child," he said, "I have that to tell you which will make you sad--
unless I greatly misunderstand your nature. Gunrig, your enemy, is
dying."

That the Hebrew had not misunderstood Branwen's nature was evident, from
the genuine look of sorrow and sympathy which instantly overspread her
countenance.

"Call him not my enemy!" she exclaimed. "An enemy cannot love! But,
tell me about him. I had heard the report that he was recovering."