“And yet, my son, we offend both parties, and, I fear me, we shall be forced to defend ourselves in the end. But God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. And now that I am old I can lean more and more upon Him. He will be a father to you, my Alfred, when these hoary hairs are hidden in the grave.”
It was seldom that the old thane expressed his devotion in this strain; it seemed to Alfred as if there were a foreboding of coming trial in it, and he felt as when a cloud veils the face of the sun in early spring.
The messenger now came in sight—a tall, resolute looking man, well armed and well mounted, and evidently bound for the hall. But when he saw the party beneath the trees he bent his course aside, and saluting the thane with all deference, inquired if he spoke to Ella of Æscendune.
“I am he,” replied Ella. “I trust you are not the bearer of other than good tidings; but will you first refresh yourself, since it is ill talking between the full and the fasting?”
“With gladness do I accept your bounty; for I have ridden since early dawn, and rider and horse are both exhausted.”
“There is corn for your horse, and food and wine for his master.
“Uhred, take charge of the steed.
“Alfred, my son, place that best joint of beef before the stranger, and those wheaten cakes.
“I drink to you, fair sir.”
The messenger seemed in no hurry to open his tale until he had eaten and drunk, and it was with the greatest patience that the thane, who was one of nature’s gentlemen, awaited his leisure.