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

"Havelok the Dane A Legend of Old Grimsby and Lincoln"


"This is my dream," she said. "Was that the voice of Griffin that I
heard? It does not seem possible; but there is none other who speaks in
the old tongue of Britain here, surely."
"There is no more fear of him," said Havelok, looking tenderly at her.
"Your dream has come true so far, if he was in it. How did it end?"
"We fled to a tree," she said, smiling faintly.
Havelok smiled also, for this seemed dream stuff only to all of us--
all of us but Withelm, that is, for at once he said, "This door will be
down with a few blows. What of that tower of yours, Biorn? Might we not
get there and wait till the jarl comes?"
At that Biorn almost shouted.
"That is a good thought, and we can get there easily. Well it will be,
also, for the men are wild now, and there have been too many slain and
hurt for them to listen to reason."
"Bide you here," said Withelm, "for it is we whom they seek. Then you
can talk to them."
But he would not do that, seeing that we had been put in his charge by
the jarl.
"I go with you," he said. "Now, if we climb out of the window that is in
the back of the house we can get to the tower before they know we are gone."
We went into that chamber where Havelok had once been when he was taken
from the sack, and even as I unbarred the heavy shutter and took it
down, the door began to shake with a fresh attack on it.


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