Wilfred placed his finger on the page, and said: “Art sure that thou understandest, little one?” The girl nodded her head sagely.
“I cannot just tell it,” she said; “but it is like this: should the king do some noble thing his example would incite others to follow where he would lead.”
“True, maiden. Thou hast given the thought in mine own mind. Bright art thou, and methinks would prove an apt pupil. Wouldst like for me to teach thee to read, Egwina?”
“Dost think that I could learn, Wilfred?”
“Of a surety. Long years had passed over my head ere I knew. Methinks that it was in my twelfth year that my mother called her children to her, and, showing a pretty book brightly illuminated, said: ‘Sons, that one of you who first learns to read in this book, he shall possess it.’ ‘Shall he really have it for his own, mother?’ I said. ‘For his very own,’ she answered, well pleased at the question. My brothers cared not for it, so full were they of the chase and sports, but I learned the verses contained therein, and she gave it me.”
“Is this it?” asked Egwina, with interest.
“Nay; it is at—” Wilfred checked himself, and then resumed. “So thou seest that thou canst learn if a dullard such as I could. Thou hast an apter mind than I. But thou must not care if it prove tedious?”
“I will not care, and I will learn,” said Egwina, with determination. “It may be that I shall then know many things of which now I do not dream.”
“Thou wilt, thou wilt!” cried Wilfred, in delight. “Forget not, dear child, that ‘The earth, when conquered, gives us the stars.’”
“I will not forget,” said Egwina, thoughtfully. “How beautiful the idea! I shall never see the stars again that I will not think of it.”