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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Roots of the Mountains; Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale"

Therewithal the smitten man
sat up, and put his hand to his head, and quoth he:
'Angry is my sister! good it is to wear the helm abroad when she
shaketh the nut-trees.'
' Nay,' said she, 'it is thy luck that thou wert bare-headed, else
had I been forced to smite thee on the face. Thou churl, since when
hath it been our wont to thrust knives into a guest, who is come of
great kin, a man of gentle heart and fair face? Come hither and
handsel him self-doom for thy fool's onset!'
The man rose to his feet and said: 'Well, sister, least said,
soonest mended. A clout on the head is worse than a woman's chiding;
but since ye have given me one, ye may forbear the other.'
Therewith he drew near to them. He was a very big-made man, most
stalwarth, with dark red hair and a thin pointed beard; his nose was
straight and fine, his eyes grey and well-opened, but somewhat fierce
withal. Yet was he in nowise evil-looking; he seemed some thirty
summers old. He was clad in a short scarlet kirtle, a goodly
garment, with a hood of like web pulled off his head on to his
shoulders: he bore a great gold ring on his left arm, and a collar
of gold came down on to his breast from under his hood.


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