who stood gazing at her with open eyes and mouth. "Don't you see I am
old and my joints are stiff? Be quick!"

There was a commanding tone in her shrill voice that brooked no delay.
The lumpish lad shut his mouth, reduced his eyes, and, going shyly
forward, held out his hand. The old woman seized it, and, almost before
he had time to wink, stood beside him.

"Where is Gunrig's room?" she demanded.

All the observers pointed to a door at the end of a passage.

"Take good care of my horse! Rub him well down; feed him. _I_ shall
know if you don't!" she cried, as she entered the passage and knocked
gently at the door.

It was opened by Gunrig's mother, whose swollen eyes and subdued voice
told their own tale.

"May I come in and see him, mother?" said Branwen, in her own soft
voice.

"You are a strange visitor," said the poor woman, in some surprise. "Do
you want much to see him? He is but a poor sight now."

"Yes--O yes!--I want very much to see him."

"Your voice is kindly, old woman. You may come in."

The sight that Branwen saw on entering was, indeed, one fitted to arouse
the most sorrowful emotions of the heart; for there, on a rude couch of
branches, lay the mere shadow of the once stalwart chief, the great
bones of his shoulders showing their form through the garments which he
had declined to take off; while his sunken cheeks, large glittering
eyes, and labouring breath, told all too plainly that disease had almost
completed the ruin of the body, and that death was standing by to
liberate the soul.

"Who comes to disturb me at such a time, mother?" said the dying man,
with a distressed look.

Branwen did not give her time to answer, but, hurrying forward, knelt
beside the couch and whispered in his ear. As she did so there was a
sudden rush of blood to the wan cheeks, and something like a blaze of
the wonted fire in the sunken eyes.

"Mother," he said, with something of his old strength of voice, "leave
us for a short while. This woman has somewhat to tell me."

"May I not stay to hear it, my son?"

"No. You shall hear all in a very short time. Just now--leave us!"

"Now, Branwen," said the chief, taking her hand in his, "what blessed
chance has sent you here?"

The poor girl did not speak, for when she looked at the great, thin,
transparent hand which held hers, and thought of the day when it swayed
the heavy sword so deftly, she could not control herself, and burst into
tears.