A fantasy novel by George MacDonald

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not touch you. Here, cut some off. You- men have strange cutting things about you."
She shook her long hair loose over me, never moving her arms.
HI cannot cut your beautiful hair. It would be a shame.55
" Not cut my hair! It will have grown long enough before any is wanted again in this wild forest. Perhaps it may never be of any use againó not till I am a woman.55 And she sighed.
As gently as I could, I cut with a knife a long tress of flowing, dark hair, she hanging her beautiful head over me. When I had finished, she shuddered and breathed deep, as one does when an acute pain, steadfastly endured without sign of suffering, is at length relaxed. She then took the hair and tied it round me, singing a strange sweet song, which I could not understand, but which left in me a feeling like thisó
" I saw thee ne'er before; I see thee never more; But love, and help, and pain, beautiful one, Have made thee mine, till all my years are done."
I cannot put more of it into words. She closed her arms about me again, and went on singing. The
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