No doubt we shall hear of him soon or late." But we did not.

There was no trace of him, or of the writer of the letter.

One may imagine the fury of Gerent when he heard all this in the morning, but even his wrath could not make Dunwal speak of aught that he might know.

But for the pleading of Owen, the old king would have hung him then and there, and all that my foster father could gain for him was his life.

Into the terrible old Roman dungeon, pit-like, with only a round hole in the stone covering of it through which a prisoner was lowered, he was thrown, and there he bided all the time I was at Norton.
By all right the lands of these two fell again into the hands of the king, and he would give them to Owen.
"Take them," he said, when Owen would not do so at first: "they owe you amends.