So I must make the best of it, and I will say that I felt foolish
enough. It was in my mind, though, that I owed many thanks to the
princess for all her kind thought for me as sick man. I had already
said as much to Howel. So I began to try to frame some sort of
speech for her. One never remembers how such speeches always fail
at the pinch.

The light footsteps came down the steps in no long time, and then
the princess entered, dressed much as yesterday, with a bright
colour from the wind, and looking round to see the promised friend.

"I have kept you long, daughter," Howel said, taking her hand, "but
I have been hearing good news. Here is Oswald of Wessex, a king's
thane, but more than that to us, for he is the adopted son of your
own godfather, Owen of Cornwall, and he brings the best of tidings
of him."

Now the maiden's face flushed with pleasure, and she held out her
hand to me in frank welcome. Yet I saw a little wondering look on
her face as she let her eyes linger on mine for a moment, and that
puzzled me.

"You are most welcome, Thane," she said. "It is a wonderful thing
that here I should learn that my lost godfather yet lives. You will
come to Pembroke with us, and tell me of him there?"

Then Howel laughed as if he had a jest that would not keep, and he
cried: "Why, Nona, that is a mighty pretty speech, but surely one
asks a sick man of his health first."