“Joanna speaks the truth,” said Alphonso, half sadly, half smilingly.  “He will not be with us long.  But it is very true that this marriage must be privately celebrated, and that without delay, that when the day comes when ‘Griffeth’ flies from the castle, he and his wife may go together.”

“Ay, and my chaplain will make them man and wife, and breathe not a word to any man,” cried Joanna, who, now that she was older, had her own retinue of servants, equal in number to those of her sister, by whom she was dearly loved for her generosity and frankness, so that she could always command ready and willing obedience to any expressed wish of hers.

“You think he will?  O Joanna, when shall it be?”

“It shall be at midnight in the chapel,” said the girl, with the prompt decision which characterized her.  “Not tonight, but three nights from this.  Leave all things in my hands, sweet Gertrude; I will see that nought is lacking to bind thee lawfully to thy lord.  My chaplain is a good and holy man from the west country.  He loveth those poor Welsh who are prisoners here, and spends much of his time in ministering to them.  He loves thy future lord and his dying brother, and he knows somewhat of our plan, for I have revealed it in the confessional, and he has not chided me for it.

“Oh, I can answer for him.  He will be glad that thou shouldst find so proper a knight; and he is kind of heart, and stanch to my service.  Fear not, sweet Gertrude:  ere three days have gone by thou shalt be a wedded wife; and when the time comes thou mayest steal away with him thy plighted lord, and trust thy sister Joanna to make thy peace with the king, if he be in any way angered or grieved.”

Gertrude threw herself into Joanna’s arms and kissed her a hundred times; and Joanna laughed, and said she deserved much credit for plotting to rid herself of her dearest friend, but was none the less loyal to the cause because Gertrude’s gain would be her loss.

So there came a strange night, never to be forgotten by those who witnessed the proceedings, when Wendot ap Res Vychan and the Lady Gertrude Cherleton stood at midnight before the altar in the small private chapel of the castle, whilst the chaplain of the Princess Joanna’s private suite made them man and wife according to the law of the Church.  And of the few spectators who witnessed the ceremony two were of royal blood —­ Alphonso and Joanna —­ and beside them were only one or two attendants, sworn to secrecy, and in full sympathy with the youthful lovers thus plighting their troth and being united in wedlock at one and the same time.

Griffeth was not of the number who was present to witness this ceremony.  He was unable to rise from his bed, a sudden access of illness having overtaken him, possibly as the result of the excitement of hearing what was about to take place.

When the solemn words had been spoken, and the bride was led away by her proud and happy spouse —­ happy even in the midst of so much peril and sorrow in the thought of the treasure he had won —­ she paused at the door of her apartments, whither he would have left her (for so long as they remained within the walls of the castle they would observe the same manner of life as before), and glancing into his face said softly: