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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"

Then it would send its rays across the pool full on the face
of the menhir, as it seemed.
So I could see nought again until I was close to the spot whence
the spark shone, and then I caught it once more, and hastily I
cleared aside the rank grass with my spear butt, and lo! even as
she had seen it in dreams the sword of Owen was there, and it was
the gleam from the gem in its hilt, which no damp could dim, which
had caught my eye. But a little while longer and we should never
have seen even that, for the weapon was slowly sinking into the bog
in which its scabbard point had been set, and even as I stepped
forward a pace to reach it the black ooze rose round my foot, and
Evan, who was behind me, caught my hand and pulled me back from its
edge.
Then I turned with the sword in my hand, and I saw that his face
had found its colour again, and that his fears had left him, for he
had looked on the valley of the mighty curse and yet lived. His
horse was at his side, and he had sprung to help me, but I hardly
heeded him, for I had what I sought in my hand, and I held it up to
Howel without a word, and a sort of fresh hope began to rise in my
heart. Owen might not be so far from us.
"How came it there?" Howel said, wondering.
"Who can tell," I answered, turning over many possibilities in my
mind.


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