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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"


"Never mind, Oswald," he said. "That vow of yours pledged you to no
more than duty to any fair lady."
"Maybe it is just as well that it did not," I answered, trying to
laugh also.
"Ay, that is right. You were bound to say somewhat, and you did it
well. But it has not pleased the girl, nevertheless."
"I did think, at least, she would have been more glad to see me."
"Trouble yourself not at all about the ways of damsels for the next
five years, or maybe ten, Oswald, my friend," said the ealdorman.
"So will you have an easier life, and maybe a longer one."
Discontented enough I went away, and that same discontent lasted
for a full half-hour. At the end of that time I found myself
laughing at the antics of two boys who were sporting on a flooded
meadow in a great brew tub, while their mother threatened them with
a stick from the bank. It was my thought that a cake would have
fetched them back sooner than the stick, but maybe she knew best.
It was like a hen with ducklings.
Then I grew tired of loitering outside the town and nursing my
wounded pride, and when it began to rain I forgot it, and went back
to the palace and talked about the British warriors with Nunna and
some of the other young thanes until supper time.
Next morning I waited on the king as he had bidden me, finding him
in his chamber with a pile of great parchments and the like before
him.


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