Saturday, December 12th, 1006.--
The week has passed monotonously enough. The Etheling is now able to leave his room, but the stormy weather, with its torrents of rain, makes it impossible for him to leave the house. The river has overflowed its banks; all the country around is like a lake. We console him by telling him that all has been done which is possible, both to warn the people and learn the fate of Alfgar. He tries to look contented, but if he knew how little has really been done, and that that little has been in Edric's hands, he would not be so contented.
Saturday, December 19th, 1006.--
A very severe frost has set in this week, and there has been much snow; the whole country is decked in her winter braveries for Christmas. O that it may pass in peace, as the birthday of the Prince of Peace should pass!
I intend to spend it at Clifton, after which I shall return to my flock at Aescendune.
Edmund has been out today, but the sharp air hurt his lungs, which have been grievously inflamed, and he was forced to return early.
He has been so patient for one of his temperament, so grateful for attention shown him, one would hardly think the lion could be such a lamb. He intends to receive the Blessed Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ on Christmas day in the little church of St. Michael here, and then he will leave for London in the course of the week.
We have heard nothing of Alfgar--we fear there is no hope; but the prince clings to it, and says his dream will come true, and that Alfgar has yet a great work to do.
Christmas Eve, 1006.--
O happy happy Christmastide! All griefs seem hushed and all joys sanctified by the blessed mystery of the Incarnation. O that Mary's blessed Son, the Prince of Peace, may indeed bring us peace on earth, and good will towards men!