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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"

He kept her well in sight, and she went straight onward
and looked not back. She went by the way whereas he had come, till
they were in the main street, wherein as yet was no one afoot; she
made her way to the Bridge, and passed over it into the meadows; but
when she had gone but a few steps, she stayed a little and looked on
the ground, and as she did so turned a little toward Folk-might, who
had drawn back into the last of the refuges over the up-stream
buttresses. He saw that there was a half-smile on her face, but he
could not tell whether she were glad or sorry. A light wind was
beginning to blow, that stirred her raiment and raised a lock of hair
that had strayed from the golden fillet round about her head, and she
looked most marvellous fair.
Now she looked along the grass that glittered under the beams of the
newly-risen sun, and noted belike how heavy the dew lay on it; and
the grass was high already, for the spring had been hot, and haysel
would be early in the Dale. So she put off her shoes, that were of
deerskin and broidered with golden threads, and turned somewhat from
the way, and hung them up amidst the new green leaves of a hawthorn
bush that stood nearby, and so went thwart the meadow somewhat
eastward straight from that bush, and her feet shone out like pearls
amidst the deep green grass.


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