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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

Maybe she would listen through
all the long hours to come to hear if the poor wretch she felt for
was yet in that dire pain that made him moan so terribly.
"Is he well bandaged?" she said, then. "It is ill if broken bones
are not closely set and splinted, and the ship will plunge and rock
presently."
Evan assured her with many words that all was well done, and yet
she lingered.
"I must see him well and softly bestowed in his place," she said,
half laughing, and turning to some who stood yet beyond my range of
sight. "Else I shall have no peace at all till we come to land
again."
Evan turned to me at that saying, to hide his face. He was growing
ashy pale, and the sweat was breaking out on his forehead. And that
made me glad to see, for he was being punished. Even yet the
princess might wish to see that my swathings were comfortable, and
if I once had my mouth freed for a moment all was lost to him.
He signed to his comrades to lift me carefully, and then put a bold
face on the matter, and thanked the princess for her kindness.
"Lady, I may be glad to beg a warm wrap or two from your store," he
said. "If it pleases you, we will shew you where he is to lie."
So they went forward, I on my litter first, and the lady and her
people following. Evan knew well enough that little fault could be
found with the warm place that was ready for me among the bales
under the deck, and he was eager to get me out of sight before
Thorgils returned.


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