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Phillpotts, Eden, 1862-1960

"Lying Prophets"

She looked dreamily a moment at the
furzes and the place whereon she had stood so often, then turned to the man
and came close and held up four little spring lilies which she had brought
with her. Her voice grew unsteady, but she mastered it again and smiled at
him.
"I brot these for 'e, dear Jan. Us calls 'em butter-an'-eggs, 'cause o' the
colors, I s'pose. They'm awnly four lil flowers. Will 'e keep 'em? An'--an'
give me summat as I can knaw's just bin in your hand, will 'e? 'Tis
fulishness, dear heart, but I'm thinkin' 'twould make the days a dinky bit
shorter."
He took the gift, thought a moment, and gave her a little silver ring off
his finger. Then he kissed her, pressed her close to him and said
"good-by," asking God to bless her, and so forth.
With but a few tears rebelling against her determination, Joan prayed good
upon his head, repaid the caress, begged him for his love to come quickly
back again, then tore herself away, turned and hastened off with her head
held bravely up. But the green fields swam and the sea danced for her a
moment later. The world was all splashed and blotched and misty. "I'll be
braave like him," she thought, smothering the great sobs and rubbing her
knuckles into her eyes till she hurt them. But she could not stem the
sorrow in a moment, and, climbing through a gap in the hedge, she sat down,
where only ewes and lambs might see, and cried bitterly a while.


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