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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 Sunday, moreover, and the early
services in the new church helped mightily to set a new face on
things. So when I had seen to the few duties of the morning, I went
down the street to ask after Elfrida, being anxious to hear that
her fright had done her no hurt. Erpwald had been there before me,
but I had missed him since.
Elfrida was well, and glad to see me. We sat and talked of
yesterday, and I found that Erpwald had said nothing of how he
saved her, and it was pleasant to tell her of it, while she
listened with eyes that sparkled. It was plain that I could have
found nothing that would please her better than to talk of him. So
I even told her how he had gone over the edge into the cleft, but
without saying that we feared for his life for so long. Then her
father came in, and at once she asked after some sick person.
"How goes it with him now," she said.
"Well enough, says the leech; but he had well-nigh died in the
night."
"What is it that ails him?--Can the leech tell that yet?"
"He has taken somewhat that has poisoned him," the ealdorman
answered. "The leech asked if he had eaten of mushrooms, or rather
toadstools, by mistake."
"But there are none about as yet."
Now I asked who the sick man was, and Herewald told me that he was
such an one who was with us yesterday.


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