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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"

I think that the light had hardly gone
from the west, but the moon had not yet risen. I dreamed that I
stood at the end of a narrow valley, whose sides were of tall
cliffs of rough grey stone, and in the depth of the valley I saw a
great menhir standing on the farther side of a black pool. And all
the surface of the pool was rippling as if somewhat had disturbed
it, and set upright in the ground on this side was a sword, like to
that which King Ina gave you, Thane--ay, that which you wear now,
not like my father's swords. And I thought that I heard one call on
your name."
Now I heard Jago stifle a cry behind me, and as for myself I stood
silent, biting my lip that I might know that I was not dreaming
also, and I saw that Howel was looking at me in a wondering way,
while Gerent glowered at me. All the time that she had been
speaking, Nona had looked on the ground, in some fear lest we
should smile at this which had been called foolishness, and I was
glad when the king broke the silence with a short laugh.
"Well, Oswald, what think you of this? On my word, it seems that
you half believe in the foolishness that some hold concerning
dreams."
"I would not hold this so," said Howel,--"seeing that she has
dreamed of things that did take place, as we know too well."
"Fire and fighting? Things, forsooth, that every village girl on
the Saxon marches is frayed with every time she sleeps.


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