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Updated: May 6, 2025
"I think thy heart an alien to love; for if thou wouldst sooner become a Lady of Honour than wed one to whom thou hast 'trothed thyself, 'tis sure thou hast no love; 'tis caprice or what one wills to call it, and thou hadst better fly from a marriage that has not love in it." "But I know not what to do. I have given my promise to wed, and I want to go to London."
The lady smiled, but grew grave again directly. She sat down in one of the cushioned window-seats, keeping Maude's treasured leaf in her hand. "List, little maid, and thou shalt hear that the great Knight, of whose mighty prowess this book doth tell, shall win His 'trothed love at last." And she began to read very different words from any Maude expected. The child listened, entranced.
"Well, little maid, I can read, and I would be thy true friend. What is it thou wouldst fain know?" "Why," said Maude, in an interested tone, "whether the great knight, of whose mighty deeds this book doth tell, should win his 'trothed love at the last, or no." For the novel-reader of the fourteenth century was not very different from the novel-reader of the nineteenth.
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