CHAPTER XXV.
“FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.”
Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of Æscendune and the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958 had well-nigh ended. During the interval, a long and hard winter had grievously tried the shattered constitution of Elfric. He had recovered from the fever and the effects of his wound in a few weeks, yet only partially recovered, for the severe shock had permanently injured his once strong health, and ominous symptoms showed themselves early in the winter. His breathing became oppressed, he complained of pains in the chest, and seemed to suffer after any exertion.
These symptoms continued to increase in gravity, until his friends were reluctantly compelled to recognise the symptoms of that insidious disease, so often fatal in our English climate, which we now call consumption.
It was long before they would admit as much; but when they saw how acutely he suffered in the cold frosts; how he, who had once been foremost in every manly exercise, was compelled to forego the hunt, and to allow his brother to traverse the woods and enjoy the pleasures of the chase without him; how he sought the fireside and shivered at the least draught; how a dry painful cough continually shook his frame, they could no longer disguise the fact that his days on earth might be very soon ended.
There was one fact which astonished them. Although he had returned with avidity to all the devotional habits in which he had been trained, yet he always expressed himself unfit to receive the Holy Communion, and delayed to make that formal confession of his sins, which the religious habits of the age imposed on every penitent.
Once or twice his fond mother, anxious for his spiritual welfare, pressed this duty upon him; and Alfred, whom he loved, as well he might, most dearly, urged the same thing, yet he always evaded the subject, or, when pressed, replied that he fully meant to do so; in short, it was a matter of daily preparation, but he could not come to be shriven yet.
When the winter at last yielded, and the bright spring sun spoke of the resurrection, when Lent was over, they hoped at least to see him make his Easter communion, and their evident anxiety upon the subject at last brought from him the avowal of the motives which actuated his conduct.
It was Easter Eve, and Alfred had enticed him out to enjoy the balmy air of a bright April afternoon. Close by the path they took, the hall was rapidly rising to more than its former beauty, for not only had the theows and ceorls all shown great alacrity in the work, but all the neighbouring thanes had lent their aid.
“It will be more beautiful than ever,” said Alfred, “but not quite so homelike. Still, when you come of age, Elfric, it will be a happy home for you.”
“It will never be my home, Alfred.”