Staggered by the tidings, the man no longer opposed his entrance, and Alfgar staggered into the hall, forgetting that he was come amongst them like one risen from the dead.
He entered the hall at first unnoticed, but the merry laughter and cheerful conversation withered before his presence, as of one who came to blast it.
Father Cuthbert and Edmund, amongst others, turned round to see what caused the lull, and started from their seats as they beheld at the end of the room Alfgar, his face pale as one risen from the dead, his black locks hanging dishevelled around his neck, his garments torn, his whole person disordered. At first they really believed he had returned from the tomb.
They hesitated, but for one moment in speechless surprise, then rushed forward.
"Alfgar!" cried the Prince.
"My son!" cried Father Cuthbert, "whence hast thou come? dost thou yet live?"
"Father; Prince; I live to warn you--the Danes, the Danes!" and he sank fainting into the arms of Herstan.
"Surely he raves," said they all.
The porter here ventured to speak.
"My lord, please go to the front of the house and look over the water."