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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 you are the only one who will trust me yet."
There I knew that he was most likely right. Had I not been certain
that he could have kept me from knowing him even yet, I think that
I might have been doubtful of him myself.
"As you will," I answered. "We can meet tomorrow. Now give me that
token by which I am to know that you have not harmed Owen."
"It is right that you should not yet trust me," Evan said, as if he
read my thoughts, "for I do not deserve it. Here is one token: 'It
is not good to sleep in the moonlight.' And I will give you yet
another, if I may, for, indeed, I would have you know that the
words I spoke yonder were true when I said that you should be glad
that you freed me, and that I have tried to serve you. That may be
known by the token of the blackthorn spine and the dog whip."
I reined up my horse in wonderment and stared at him, and he came
close to my side, so that I could see him plainly. And, lo! his
shoulders grew rounded, and his eyes crossed terribly, and they
bided so, and he mumbled the words he had said when the whip of the
huntsman fell on him.
Then he straightened himself again and looked timidly at me. He was
not like the man who had bound me so cruelly in Holford combe on
the Quantocks.
"Evan," I cried, "what you did for me at the ealdorman's gate is
enough to win any pardon you may need.


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