CHAPTER X.
"FOR MY SAKE, BE COMFORTABLE."
The bold speech of Ceolwulf produced the most absolute silence. The fire had now become a mere heap of glowing embers, and nothing was distinguishable in the darkness.
As Ceolwulf peered into the blackness where the voices had seemed to come from, he thought he could hear a faint rustle as of some one moving. Again his superstitious fears came over him. He was seized with panic, and turning to make a hasty retreat, he caught his foot in a trailing branch of ivy and came heavily to the ground.
Muttering a terrified and hasty ejaculation, he rose to his feet, and for the moment forgot which way he had come. While turning over in his mind this important question, he heard a hollow voice say:
"Is it really thou, Biggun, or art thou a dream of my weary and fitful brain?"
"Surely, my lord, it is thy voice; but if thou art dead, let me not see thee."
"I am alive, Biggun, but have not long to live. Come nearer. Put some sticks on the fire before it goes out, that I may see thee, whether thou art my faithful Ceolwulf or not."
Ceolwulf did as he was told, but with considerable difficulty, for it was no easy matter to find any dry sticks, and had it not been for the help of the old woman, who came out to assist him, he would scarcely have been able to accomplish his object. When the fire burnt up again brightly, Ceolwulf, to his disgust, found that the terrible witch whom he had so dreaded was no other than the poor old slave Deva, the most despised of the female serfs in Ælfhere's household.
"Why, Deva, woman, how didst thou save thy life when so many better than thou died around the homestead?"