She shook like an aspen leaf, and threw her garments around her with nervous earnestness.
“Come, mother, take my arm.”
“O Alfred, may I not come, too?” said little Edgitha.
“Yes, you may come too;” and they left the house.
Elfric heard them approach, and sat up in his bed, Father Cuthbert supporting him with his arm; while another visitor, Edgar himself, stood at the head of the bed, but retired to give place to the mother, as if he felt no stranger could then intrude, when the widow clasped her prodigal to her loving breast.
CHAPTER XXIV.
SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND.
When Alfred rebuilt the city of Winchester, after it had been burned by the Danes, he erected a royal palace, which became a favourite retreat of his successors.
Here the unhappy Edwy retired after his defeat, to find consolation in the company of Elgiva. Indeed he needed it. Northumbria had followed the example of Mercia, and acknowledged Edgar, and he had no dominions left north of the Thames, while it was rumoured that worse news might follow.
In an inner chamber of the palace, and remote from intrusion, sat the king and his chosen advisers. It was early in the year 958, a spring day when the sun shone brightly and all things spoke of the coming summer—the songs of the birds, the opening buds, the blossoming orchards.
But peace was banished from those who sat in that council chamber. Edwy was strangely disturbed, his face was flushed, and he bore evidence of the most violent agitation.