She could only weep with her son, and try to soothe his
sorrow by whispering a hope, which she was far from feeling, that the
day might come, when he could return to his father's court, cured of
the malady which was the cause of his banishment.
"But years may pass away before that happy day, if it ever should
come," replied the weeping boy; "and I shall be altered in stature and
in features; the tones of my voice will have become strange to your
ears, my mother! Toil and sorrow will have set their hard marks upon
my brow. These garments, now so brightly stained with figures that
denote my royal birth and princely station, will be worn bare, or
exchanged for the sheep-skin vest of indigence. How, then, will you
know that I am indeed your son, should I ever present myself before you
cleansed of this dreadful leprosy?"
"My son," replied the queen, taking a royal ring of carved agate from
her finger, and placing it on a stand before him, for so great was the
terror of contagion from those afflicted with leprosy, that even the
affectionate mother of Bladud avoided the touch of her child,--"this
ring was wrought by the master-hand of a Druid, a skillful worker in
precious stones, within the sacred circle of Stonehenge.
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