Llewelyn was full of talk that evening, and spoke with a rude eloquence and fire that always riveted the attention of the child.  He told of the wild, lonely beauty of a certain mountain peak which he pointed out up the valley, of the weird charm of the road thither, and above all of the eagle’s nest which was to be found there, and the young eaglets being now reared therein, which he and Howel meant to capture and keep as their own, and which they purposed to visit the very next day to see if they were fit yet to leave the nest.

Gertrude sat entranced as the boy talked, and when she heard of the eagle’s nest she gave a little cry of delight.

“O Llewelyn, take me with you.  Let me see the eagle’s nest and the little eaglets.”

But the boy shook his head doubtfully.

“You could not get as far.  It is a long way, and a very rough walk.”

The child shook back her curling hair defiantly.

“I could do it!  I know I could.  I could go half the way on my palfrey, and walk the rest.  You would help me.  You know how well I can climb.  Oh, do take me —­ do take me!  I should so love to see an eagle’s nest.”

But still Llewelyn shook his head.

“Wendot would not let you go; he would say it was too dangerous.”

Again came the little defiant toss.

“I am not Wendot’s slave; I can do as I choose.”

“If he finds out he will stop you.”

“But we need not tell him, need we?”

“I thought you always told him everything.”

The child stamped her little foot.

“I tell him things generally, but I can keep a secret.  If he would stop us from going, we will not tell him, nor Griffeth either.  We will get up very early and go by ourselves.  We could do that, could we not, and come back with the young eaglets in our hands?  O let us go! let us do it soon, and take me with you, kind Llewelyn!  Indeed I shall not be in your way.  I will be very good.  And you know you have taught me to climb so well.  I know I can go where you can go.  You said so yourself once.”

Llewelyn turned his head away to conceal a smile half of triumph, half of contempt.  A strange flash was in his eyes as he looked up the valley towards the crag upon which he had told the child the eyry of the eagles hung.  She thought he was hesitating still, and laid a soft little hand upon his arm.

“Please say that I may go.”

He turned quickly and looked at her.  For a moment she shrank back from the strange glow in his eyes; but her spirit rose again, and she said rather haughtily:  “You need not be angry with me.  If you don’t wish me to come I will stay at home with Wendot.  I do not choose to ask favours of anybody if they will not give them readily.”

“I should like to take you if it would be safe,” answered Llewelyn, speaking as if ashamed of his petulance or reluctance.

“Howel, could she climb to the crag where we can look down upon the eyry if we helped her up the worst places?”