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Updated: June 21, 2025
At this time there was some hope amongst the people that God had at length heard the petition breathed so often in the penitential wail of the Litany "From the cruelty of our pagan enemies, good Lord, deliver us" and they forgot that the massacre on St. Brice's night yet cried for vengeance.
He was introduced by Judge Whipple, in whose office he is. He had hardly begun to speak before he had the ear of everyone in the house. Mr. Brice's personality is prepossessing, his words are spoken sharply, and he has a singular emphasis at times which seems to drive his arguments into the minds of his hearers.
By the time Brice's eyes could focus fairly upon this very impossible sight, the half-body had begun to recede rapidly into the earth, like that of an anglework which a robin pulls halfway out of the lawn and then loses its grip on.
He tried to disengage himself, but her fingers were clasped about his neck in a passion of fear and love. And then, while she clung to him, her head was raised to listen. The sound of Stephen Brice's voice held her as in a spell. His words were coming coldly, deliberately, and yet so sharply that each seemed to fall like a lash. "Mr.
And as she went she burst forth vehemently into the story of Brice's afternoon adventures. Her words fairly fell over one another, in her indignant eagerness. Yet she spoke wellnigh as concisely as had Gavin when he had recounted the tale to her. Standish's face, as she spoke, was foolishly vacant.
Now that he had achieved the task of winning free from his prison and from his jailors his mind swung back to the man he had rescued and who had sought his death. Anger at the black infamy burned fiercely in Brice's soul. His whole brain and body ached for redress, for physical wild-beast punishment of the ingrate. The impulse dulled his every other faculty.
The stories they had both heard of predatory bands of Danes who had wandered far from their main body, and had sought gratification for their lust for plunder and blood in remote spots where the inhabitants dwelt in fancied security, came to their minds, and also the inquiries which had been made in the Danish camp concerning their home and the circumstances of St. Brice's fatal night.
"That isn't a bluff," ran his involuntary thoughts, as he read the eyes behind the ridiculously tiny weapon. "She really means to shoot!" For several seconds the two stood thus, the man dumfounded, moveless, gaping, the girl as grimly resolute as Fate itself, the little revolver steady, its muzzle unwaveringly menacing Brice's face. The collie continued to gyrate, thunderously around the tree.
"Alfgar can perhaps inform you, but one day must have been much like another to him in the Danish camp." "His statement would need verification," said Ednoth. "He is as true and brave as any man here." "Of course, all Danes are true and brave," said Edric. "He is a Christian." "Yes; I think he became one on St. Brice's day," suggested Edric. "To save his life, no doubt," said the sheriff.
Brice's company were swinging axes when the orderly arrived, and Mr. Brice had an axe himself, and was up to his boot tops in yellow mud. The orderly, who had once been an Iowa farmer, was near grinning when he gave the General's message and saw the lieutenant gazing ruefully at his clothes.
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