by A. D. Crake
control if in nothing else.
"I wished to speak with you, Elfric," said the abbot, "upon a veryserious matter. When you first came here, I was delighted to have you asa companion to the prince. You were evidently well brought up, and borean excellent character; but, I grieve to say, you have greatly changedfor the worse. Are you not aware of it?"
"No, father. What have I done?"
Dunstan sighed at the tone of the reply, and continued--"It is not anyparticular action of which I wish to accuse you, but of the generaltenor of your conduct. I do not speak harshly, my boy; but if truth betold, you are as idle as you were once diligent, as sullen and reservedas once candid and open: and, my son, your face tells a tale of evenworse things, and, but that I am puzzled to know where you could obtain themeans of self indulgence, I should attribute more serious vices to you."
"Who has accused me, father?"
"Yourself--that is, your own face and manner. Did you ever contemplateyourself in a mirror when at home? There is a steel one against thatwall, go and look at yourself now."
Elfric blushed deeply.
"My face is still the same," he said.
"It is the same, and yet not the same. Innocence once took her place atits portals, and had sealed it as her own; the expression is allchanged; my boy, I am absolutely certain that all is not well with you.For your own sake, delay no longer to avoid the danger of losing yoursalvation, for the habits you form now will perhaps cling to you throughlife. Turn now to your own self; confess your sin, and be at peace."
"I came to confession at Shrovetide; I am not required to come now, am I?"
"Required? No, my boy, it is your own sense of guilt, alone, whichshould draw you. The Church, since there has been no public scandal,leaves you to your own judgment at such a time as this. Have you neverfelt such remorse of conscience as would tell you your duty?"
"Never."
He thought of Good Friday, and blushed.
"Your tone and words belie each other, my boy. God grant you repentance;you will not accept my help now, but the time may come when you willseek help in vain."
Elfric bowed, without reply, and at a sign left the chamber.
A few weeks later, at the beginning of November, Edred left London for atour in the west, and quitted his nephews with more than his usualaffection, although his goodbye to Elfric was more constrained, for thegood old king, not knowing the whole truth, was beginning to fear thatElfric was a dangerous companion. He little thought that he was rathersinned against than sinning.
Dunstan was to follow him in a week, and only remained behind todischarge necessary business.
The heart of the amorous Edwy beat with delight as he saw his uncledepart, and he made arrangements at once to spend the night afterDunstan's departure in mirth and jollity at the house of Ethelgiva andher fair daughter.
He came back after an interview with Redwald on the subject, and foundElfric in their common study. There was an alcove in the room, and itwas covered by a curtain.
"O Elfric," said the prince, "is it not delightful? The two tyrants, theking and the monk, will soon be gone. I wish the Evil One would fly offwith them both, and when the cat is away will not the mice play? I havemade all the arrangements; we shall have such a night at the ladyEthelgiva's."
"How is the fair Elgiva?"
It was now Edwy's turn to blush and look confused.
"I wish I had the power of teasing you, Elfric. But if you have a secretyou keep it close. Remember old Dunstan vanishes on the fifteenth, andthe same evening, oh, won't it be joyful? But I am tired of work. Comeand let us take some fresh air."
They left the room, when the curtain parted, and the astonishedcountenance of Father Benedict, who had been quietly reading in the deepembrasure of the window, presently appeared. He looked like a man atwhose feet a thunderbolt had fallen, and hastily left the room.
The week passed rapidly away, and at its close Dunstan took hisdeparture. A train of horses awaited him, and he bade the young princesEdwy and Edgar farewell, with the usual charge to work diligently andobey Father Benedict.
That same night, after the clerks had sung compline in the chapel, andthe chamberlain had seen to the safety of the palace, Edwy came quietlyto the room of his page, and the two left as on the first occasion.Redwald attended them, and just before the boat left the bank he spoke aword of caution.
"I fear," he said, in a low tone, "that all is not quite right. That oldfox Dunstan is up to some trick; he has not really left town."
"Perhaps he has a similar appointment tonight," said Edwy,sarcastically. "I should keep mine though he and all his monks fromGlastonbury barred the way."
They reached the castellated mansion of Ethelgiva in due course, and theprogramme of the former evening was repeated, save that, if there wasany change, the conversation was more licentious, and the wine cuppassed more freely.
It was midnight, and one of the company was favouring them with a songof questionable propriety, when a heavy knock was heard at the door. Theservants went to answer it, and all the company awaited the issue insuspense.
One of the principal domestics returned with haste, and whispered somewords into the ear of Ethelgiva--which seemed to discompose her.
"What can this mean?" she said. "A guard of soldiers demand admittancein the king's name?"
A louder knocking attested the fact.
"You must admit them, or they will batter the door down. Edwy, Elfric!here, hide yourselves behind that curtain, it veils a deep recess."
They had scarcely concealed themselves when Dunstan entered, attended bya guard of the royal hus-carles.
"What means this insolence?" said Ethelgiva.
"No insolence is intended, royal lady, nor could be offered to the widowof the Etheling, by me," replied Dunstan, "but I seek to discharge asacred trust committed to me. Where are my pupils, the Prince Edwy andhis companion?"
"In their beds, at the palace, I should suppose."
"Nay, be not so perfidious; they are here, lady, and probably withinhearing; they must come forth, or I must order the guard to search thehouse, which I should regret."
"By whose authority?"
"By that of the king, whose signet is on my hand."
"They are not here; they left half-an-hour ago."
"Pardon me, madam, if I observe that we have watched the house for an hour.
"Had not this scene better terminate?" he added, with icy coldness.
At this moment a favourite dog, which Edwy had often petted, and whichhad entered with the guard, found him out behind the curtain, and in itsvociferous joy betrayed the whole secret.
Confusion or smiles sat on every face save that of the imperturbableDunstan.
"Your dog, madam, is more truthful than its mistress," he said, bluntlyyet quietly; and then, advancing to the recess, he drew aside thecurtain and gazed upon the discovered couple.
"Will you kindly return to the palace with me?"
"How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your futureking?"
"I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who hascommitted the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in thedischarge of my duty 'dare' is a superfluous word. Will you, as I saidbefore, both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves todo so?"
The import of all this was seen at a glance, but there was no course butsubmission, and Edwy well knew how utterly indefensible his conduct was;so, with crestfallen gait, he and Elfric followed their captor to theriver, where was another large boat by the side of their own. Theyentered it, and returned to the palace stairs much more sober than onprevious occasions.
CHAPTER VII. "THE KING IS DEAD!--LONG LIVE THE KING!"
The unhappy Elfric passed the night in a most unenviable frame of mind.He felt distinctly how utterly he was in the power of Dunstan, and thathe could only expect to return home in disgrace; yet there was no realrepentance in all this: he had sinned and suffered, but although hedreaded punishment he no lon
ger hated sin.
He scarcely slept at all, and early in the morning he rose to seek aninterview with Edwy, when he found that he was a prisoner. One of thehus-carles posted at his door forbade all communication.
Early in the morning the bell sounded for the early service, still hewas not released, and later his breakfast was brought to him, afterwhich he heard a heavy step approaching, and Dunstan appeared at thedoor of the sleeping chamber.
He entered, and gazed at Elfric for a moment without speaking, as if hewould read his very heart by his face; it was hardly comfortable.
"Elfric," he said at last, "do you remember the warning I gave you sixmonths ago?"
"No," said Elfric, determined, in desperation, to deny everything.
"I fear you are hardly telling me the truth; you must