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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"

What have
I done? Yesterday I plighted my troth to wed the woman that I met
last autumn in the wood. And why? I wot not why, but that I longed
for her. Yet I must tell thee that it seemed to me, and yet seemeth,
that I might do no otherwise--that there was nothing else in the
world for me to do. What do I deem will come of it, sayest thou?
This, that we shall be happy together, she and I, till the day of our
death.'
She said: 'And even so long shall I be sorry: so far are we
sundered now. Alas! who looked for it? And whither shall I turn to
now?'
Said Gold-mane: 'She bade me tell thee that to-morrow is a new day:
meseemeth I know her meaning.'
'No word of hers hath any meaning to me,' said the Bride.
'Nay,' said he, 'but hast thou not heard these rumours of war that
are in the Dale? Shall not these things avail thee? Much may grow
out of them; and thou with the mighty heart, so faithful and
compassionate!'
She said: 'What sayest thou? What may grow out of them? Yea, I
have heard those rumours as a man sick to death heareth men talk of
their business down in the street while he lieth on his bed; and
already he hath done with it all, and hath no world to mend or mar.


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