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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"


For me nought shall grow out of it. What meanest thou?'
Said Gold-mane: 'Is there nought in the fellowship of Folks, and the
aiding of the valiant, and the deliverance of the hapless?'
'Nay,' she said, 'there is nought to me. I cannot think of it to-day
nor yet to-morrow belike. Yet true it is that I may mingle in it,
though thinking nought of it. But this shall not avail me.'
She was silent a little, but presently spake and said: 'Thou sayest
right; it is not thou that hast done this, but the woman who sent me
the ring and the message of an old saw. O that she should be born to
sunder us! How hath it befallen that I am now so little to thee and
she so much?'
And again she was silent; and after a while Face-of-god spake kindly
and softly and said: 'Kinswoman, wilt thou for ever begrudge our
love? this grudge lieth heavy on my soul, and it is I alone that have
to bear it.'
She said: 'This is but a light burden for thee to bear, when thou
hast nought else to bear! But do I begrudge thee thy love, Gold-
mane? I know not that. Rather meseemeth I do not believe in it--nor
shall do ever.


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