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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"

As for his daughter, I knew no more than
Jago told the ealdorman.
Then she said: "Now I would ask you to speak to my father, that he
would let me go with you to Dartmoor, that I may help you search. I
do not like to be far from him, but he says there may be danger.
Which makes me the more anxious not to leave him, as you may
suppose."
She smiled, but as I made no answer she went on:
"And maybe Owen will need nursing when you find him. They say he
was sorely wounded. Ay, I am sure we shall find him, else why did
we have these strange visions? And I think that were he not
disabled altogether he would have won to freedom in some way."
"It is that wounding that makes me fear the worst," I said in a low
voice; for indeed the thought of Owen as hurt, in the care, or want
of care, of those who hated him, was not easy to be borne. "It is
my fear that we shall be too late."
"Nay, but you must not fear that," she said quickly. "That is no
sort of mind in which you have to set to work. I will think rather
that they have carried him to some safe tending. There will be time
enough to dread the worst when it is certain. There was nought in
the dreams to make us think that he was dead."
The bright face and voice cheered me wonderfully, and for the
moment, at least, I felt sure that our search would not fail.


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