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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Well at the World's End: a tale"

So we stood
a moment, and I had no words, but she spake at last in a hard,
snarling voice, such as she oftenest used to me, but worse.
"'Now at last the time has come when thou art of no more use
to me; for I can see thee what thou hast got for thyself.
But know now that thou hast not yet drunk of the Well at
the World's End, and that it will not avail thee to flee
out of this wood; for as long as I live thou wilt not be able
to get out of reach of my hand; and I shall live long:
I shall live long. Come, then, and give thyself up to me,
that I may deal with thee as I threatened when I slew thy
friend the white goat; for, indeed, I knew then that it would
come to this.'
"She had but twice or thrice spoken to me so many words together as this;
but I answered never a word, but stood watching her warily.
And of a sudden she gave forth a dreadful screaming roar,
wherewith all the wood rang again, and rushed at me;
but my hand came from behind my back, and how it was I know not,
but she touched me not till the blade had sunk into her breast,
and she fell across my feet, her right hand clutching my raiment.
So I loosed her fingers from the cloth, shuddering with horror
the while, and drew myself away from her and stood a little aloof,
wondering what should happen next. And indeed I scarce believed
but she would presently rise up from the ground and clutch me
in her hands, and begin the tormenting of me.


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