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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 he also will think it foolishness, King Gerent," she said in
her low clear voice. "But however that may be, I will tell him, for
in what I have to say may be help. I cannot tell, but because it
might be so I begged my father to bring me hither. It was all that
I could do for my godfather."
There was just a little quiver in her lip as she said this, and the
fierce old king's face softened somewhat.
"Nay," he said, "I meant no unkindness. I forgot that it is not
right to speak to a child as to grown warriors. It is long since
there was a lady about the place who is one of us."
Then Nona smiled wanly, and set her hand on that of the old king,
and kept it there while she spoke.
"Indeed, Thane, it may be foolishness, and now perhaps as time goes
on it begins to seem so to me. Once, as I know now, on the night
when Owen first slept in his new house on the moor, I dreamed that
he was in sore danger, for I seemed to see shadows of men creeping
everywhere round the house that I have never set eyes on; and
again, on the next night, and that was the night of the burning, I
saw the house in flames, and men fought and fell around it among
the flickering shadows, but I did not seem to see Owen. And then on
the next night, soon after I first slept, I woke trembling with the
most strange dream of all.


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