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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"

It was
his thought that it was meant for me rather than himself.
"You will have to take heed to any Welshman you meet," he said,
"and as you are warned that should be no very difficult matter. No
Briton can ever pretend to be a Saxon."
I do not think that there is more to be said of that meeting,
though indeed I would willingly dwell on it. Mayhap it will be
plain why I would do so presently, for I left him bright and happy
in his old place, with nought but the distance from the foster son
whom he loved to trouble him.
But when I rode away again the sorrow of that parting fell heavily
on me, and I could not shake it off. It seemed to me that I would
not see Owen again, though why it so seemed I could not tell. If I
had any thought of danger to myself I should have cared little, so
it was not that. I wonder if one can feel "fey" for another man if
he is dear to you as no other can be?

CHAPTER XI. HOW ERPWALD FELL FROM CHEDDAR CLIFFS; AND OF ANOTHER WARNING.

In the coming week, after I had thus taken leave of Owen, my friend
Herewald, the ealdorman, would have a hunting party before we all
left him and Glastonbury for Winchester, and so it came to pass
that on the appointed day a dozen of us rode with a train of men
and hounds after us along the westward slopes of the Mendips in the
direction of Cheddar, rousing the red deer from the warm woodlands
of the combes where they love to hide.


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