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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Sea Queen's Sailing"


Across the strait rose a thick smoke from the foot of the glen.
Heidrek's folk were burning the wretched huts for sport. All the
fisher people would have fled at their first coming.
"They are busy now," said Bertric grimly, nodding toward the signs
of pillage. "They will be here next."
Now Gerda came with a little bundle, wrapped in her blue cloak. She
was pale, and near to weeping as she looked on the hermits, who
were coming together from their work to the black cross in the
midst of their home. The old superior caught sight of me and called
to me in his still voice.
"So you must fly, my son," he said. "I would that we had had more
speech together. Give this to the lady who has listened to me so
patiently. Now, I have bidden Fergus and Phelim to go with you.
They can row, and that well, and you need help. Aye, I ken the ways
of the boatwork well enough. You will make them go with you, for
hardly will they obey me, now at the last."
Thereat those two brethren threw themselves at the feet of the old
man, and besought him to let them bide with the rest for that crown
of martyrdom which they might gain.
"No, my sons," he said sternly, and yet lovingly; "your lives may
yet be of use. Ours are done. Now you shall win more by saving the
lives of these friends of ours who came to us in need than by
losing your own.


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