[CHAPTER III—A THIEF IN THE NIGHT]
Soft and downy was the bed in the bower chamber to which Egwina had been assigned, and grateful was it to the weary maiden, who was soon fast asleep.
It seemed to her that she had slept but a short time when something awakened her. She lay quite still trying to determine what it could be, and hearing only the soughing of the wind.
Suddenly, she felt her hand taken softly, and the sapphire ring which Ethelfleda had given her was gently withdrawn from her finger. For a moment the girl thought that she must be dreaming, and quickly clasped her right hand over the left. The ring was in truth gone. She grew numb with fear as the fact dawned upon her. There was a thief in the room.
Her heart almost stopped its beating, and then began to throb fast. Was it one of the monks? No, no; they were too good, too kind for that! It must be, it was Ælfric the juggler, who had joined them on their journey. Had he not looked covetously upon the jewel? At this moment she heard the thief moving quietly toward the door. The sound broke the spell that held her. It was too dark for her to see anything, but she sprang from the bed shrieking:
“Grandfather! grandfather! Awake! awake!”
There was a muttered ejaculation from the intruder. He turned, bounded back toward her and felled her, with a blow; then, as Wulfhere ran into the room, dashed from the house.
“Egwina! Egwina!” called the harper in alarm. “What is it? What hath befallen thee?”
There was no response, and in trying to reach the couch, he stumbled over the body of the girl.
“My child! My child!” broke from his lips in agonized accents as he recognized Egwina’s form by the feel of her garments and hair. “What hath happened to thee, little one?”