donât leave without first fetching the lily youâve cut from my lady wifeâs garden walk, give it again to our Molly. Once a lilyâs cut, its savor wanes.â
ââAnd he was gone.
ââSo it was I came into the house of a good man, into my time of apprenticeship. I learned to spin silver into teapots and fine plates and loving rings and ornate buttons. The nights were filled with longing for sweet Molly, a stolen moment in the kitchen or garden before falling to fitful sleep. When the day came at last that Mr. Jamison let me take on a project of my own, I fashioned a silver lily. It took the better part of five nights. The old man could see Iâd not slept for working, and he praised the silver lily.
ââWhatâll it be, son? A pin, an ear piece, a ring?â
ââItâs a gift, sir.â I could not look him in the eye. âUseful for nothing else save a token of affection.â
ââThat night after dinner I found excuse to wander in the garden, moon the color of the little lily folded in my right hand. Molly came out into the moonlight when she was done with chores.
ââLook how fine this night is, Mol.â
ââShe laid her head upon my shoulder as sweetly as autumn leaf falls to the ground. I could barely breathe.
ââShe looked up into my eyes. âYouâre the dearest man ever I knew, Conner Briarwoodâand I love you till the seas go dry.â
ââLook here, Molly. Iâve made you a lily thatâll never fade. Itâs a token of my regard for you. This silver lily would sooner turn to clay before my affection for you is cold. I love you till the day I die.â
ââAnd then we kissed.
ââStraightway I went to Mr. Jamison and told him of my intention to wed Molly. While his gladness seemed a little short, he was happy for me, offered to pay for the church on All Saintsâ Day. But his final word was strange. âThis world is filled with the bitter as well as the sweet.â Heâd say no more.
ââThe next day was clear and golden; all the leaves were turning.
I heard Mollyâs laughter down by the brook at the farther field, under the hazel.
ââThe sight that stabbed my eye when she came into view still cuts my brain.
ââMolly was entrapped in another manâs arms. I could see he was a lord by his fine clothes. I could see he was kissing her neck. I could see he would not let her go. She hadnât been laughing at all but crying for help. I ran to her aid.
ââOut came the dagger and rapier to my hand.
ââYou there!â I shouted. âLeave off with that girl or Iâll break open your breastbone. Youâre a dog and I mean to kill you.â
ââMolly broke free from his grasp. Her face was flush with fear and she came running for me.
ââNo, Conner! Donât fight him!â
ââBut she need not fear for me. I grew up wild and brawling with tougher men than this rich pastry, and I told her so.
ââQuit this place, Molly. I have something to do with your malefactor.â
ââHold, boy,â he said calmly. âYou donât have the understanding of this situation.â
ââWill you take out your sword?â I spit back at him.
ââHere it is then.â He drew. âBut I only mean to relieve you of those weapons and calm you down. You donât rightly know whatâs at work here.â
ââThere was a rage in me; the Devil had my throat. I threw myself at him and beat down his resistance at once. He fell backward puffing and stumbling and trying to shake off his cape. Molly was screaming, but the rage in my head would allow me nothing save the object of my blade. I took my dagger to his chest without a word, cracked his breastbone, spilled his blood, cleft his heart in twain. He fell to the earth,
ââAnd he was gone.
ââSo it was I came into the house of a good man, into my time of apprenticeship. I learned to spin silver into teapots and fine plates and loving rings and ornate buttons. The nights were filled with longing for sweet Molly, a stolen moment in the kitchen or garden before falling to fitful sleep. When the day came at last that Mr. Jamison let me take on a project of my own, I fashioned a silver lily. It took the better part of five nights. The old man could see Iâd not slept for working, and he praised the silver lily.
ââWhatâll it be, son? A pin, an ear piece, a ring?â
ââItâs a gift, sir.â I could not look him in the eye. âUseful for nothing else save a token of affection.â
ââThat night after dinner I found excuse to wander in the garden, moon the color of the little lily folded in my right hand. Molly came out into the moonlight when she was done with chores.
ââLook how fine this night is, Mol.â
ââShe laid her head upon my shoulder as sweetly as autumn leaf falls to the ground. I could barely breathe.
ââShe looked up into my eyes. âYouâre the dearest man ever I knew, Conner Briarwoodâand I love you till the seas go dry.â
ââLook here, Molly. Iâve made you a lily thatâll never fade. Itâs a token of my regard for you. This silver lily would sooner turn to clay before my affection for you is cold. I love you till the day I die.â
ââAnd then we kissed.
ââStraightway I went to Mr. Jamison and told him of my intention to wed Molly. While his gladness seemed a little short, he was happy for me, offered to pay for the church on All Saintsâ Day. But his final word was strange. âThis world is filled with the bitter as well as the sweet.â Heâd say no more.
ââThe next day was clear and golden; all the leaves were turning.
I heard Mollyâs laughter down by the brook at the farther field, under the hazel.
ââThe sight that stabbed my eye when she came into view still cuts my brain.
ââMolly was entrapped in another manâs arms. I could see he was a lord by his fine clothes. I could see he was kissing her neck. I could see he would not let her go. She hadnât been laughing at all but crying for help. I ran to her aid.
ââOut came the dagger and rapier to my hand.
ââYou there!â I shouted. âLeave off with that girl or Iâll break open your breastbone. Youâre a dog and I mean to kill you.â
ââMolly broke free from his grasp. Her face was flush with fear and she came running for me.
ââNo, Conner! Donât fight him!â
ââBut she need not fear for me. I grew up wild and brawling with tougher men than this rich pastry, and I told her so.
ââQuit this place, Molly. I have something to do with your malefactor.â
ââHold, boy,â he said calmly. âYou donât have the understanding of this situation.â
ââWill you take out your sword?â I spit back at him.
ââHere it is then.â He drew. âBut I only mean to relieve you of those weapons and calm you down. You donât rightly know whatâs at work here.â
ââThere was a rage in me; the Devil had my throat. I threw myself at him and beat down his resistance at once. He fell backward puffing and stumbling and trying to shake off his cape. Molly was screaming, but the rage in my head would allow me nothing save the object of my blade. I took my dagger to his chest without a word, cracked his breastbone, spilled his blood, cleft his heart in twain. He fell to the earth,
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