by A. D. Crake
and you will not let him go to court, I am sure, Alfred."
Alfred did not answer; he could not command his composure.
"And when you all come to the priory church on Sundays, and FatherCuthbert, or whoever shall come after him, sings the mass, you willremember me and breathe my name in your prayers when they say thememento for the faithful dead; and again, there shall be little childrenlearning their paters and their sweet little prayers, as you and Ilearned them at our mother's knee: and you will show them my tomb, whereI shall rest with dear father, and perhaps my story may be a warning tothem. But you must never forget to show them how brotherly love wasstronger than death when the old hall was burnt.
"After all," he continued, "our separation won't be long, the longestday comes to an end, and a thousand years are with Him as one day. Weshall all be united at last--father, mother, Alfred, Edgitha, Elfric.Do you not hear the Easter bells?"
They retraced their steps to the priory church for the services ofEaster Eve.
"And one thing more, dear Alfred; you think me a strange penitent, thatI am long, very long, before I make my confession. You do not know how Isigh for Communion; it is three years since I communicated, nearly four.But, Alfred, there is one who tried to stop me when I began goingdownward, downward, and I feel as if I must have his forgiveness beforeI can communicate, and it is to him I want to make my last confession.You know whom I mean; he is in England now and near."
"I do indeed."
"Now you know my secret, let us go into church."
Oh, how sweetly those Easter psalms and lessons spoke to Alfred andElfric that night; how sweetly the tidings of a risen Saviour sounded intheir ears. Easter joy was joy indeed. The very heavens seemed brighterthat night, the moon--the Paschal moon--seemed to gladden the earthand render it a Paradise, like that happy Eden of old times, before sinentered its holy seclusion.
Easter tide was over, and Ascension drew near, but the sweet month ofMay had done little to restore health to poor Elfric. He had scarcelyever had a day free from pain. His eye was brighter than ever, but hisattenuated face told a sad tale of the decay of the vital power.
From the time that Alfred knew how his brother yearned for Dunstan'sforgiveness, and that he would be shriven by none but him, he had soughtto accomplish his wish. He heard that Dunstan had returned from abroad,and was about to be consecrated Bishop of Worcester, and to be their owndiocesan, and he sought an early opportunity of seeing him.
At last, but not until after Dunstan's consecration, he gained theopportunity, not without much delay; for Dunstan was sometimes inWorcester, sometimes in London, which had thrown off Edwy's authority,and submitted, with all Essex, to Edgar; sometimes ordaining, sometimesconfirming, sometimes assisting Edgar in the government; and he was,like all other great men, very inaccessible.
At last Alfred learned that he would be in Worcester by a certain day,and he started at once for that city. He arrived there after a tediousjourney; the roads were very difficult, and when he reached the city heheard the cathedral bells, and went at once to the high mass, for it wasa festival. There he saw Dunstan as he had seen him before atGlastonbury, at the altar, amidst all the solemn pomp in which ourancestors robed the sacred office.
Immediately after the service he repaired to the palace, and put in hisname. Numbers, like himself, were awaiting an audience, but only a fewminutes had passed ere an usher came into the antechamber and informedhim that Dunstan requested his immediate presence.
He followed the usher amidst the envy of many who had the prospect of along detention ere they could obtain the same favour, and soon he hadclasped Dunstan's hand and knelt for his blessing.
"Nay! rise up, my son, it is thine: _Deus benedicat et custodiat te, inomnibus viis tuis_. Thinkest thou, my son, thy name has been forgottenin my poor prayers? God made thee His instrument, but thou wast a veryvery willing one; and now, my son, wherein can I serve thee? Thou hastbut to speak."
Thus encouraged, Alfred told all his tale, and Dunstan listened withmuch emotion.
"Yet two days and I will be with you at Aescendune. Go back and comfortthy brother; he shall indeed have my forgiveness, and happy shall I beas an ambassador of Christ to fulfil the blessed office of restoring thelost sheep to the fold, the prodigal to his Heavenly Father."
When Alfred returned to Aescendune he found Elfric eagerly awaiting him;he had not been so well in the absence of his brother, and every one sawsymptoms of the coming end.
Still he seemed so happy when Alfred delivered his message that everyone remarked it, and that evening he sat up later than usual, listeningas Father Cuthbert read for the hundredth time his favourite story fromKing Alfred's Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, the parable of theprodigal son, which had filled his mind on the night after the battle;then he spoke to his mother about past days, before a cloud came betweenhim and his home; and talked of his father, and of the little incidentsof early youth. Always loving, he was more so than usual that night, asif he felt time was short in which to show a son's love.
That night his mother came, as she always came, when he was asleep, tohis chamber to gaze upon him, when she was struck by the difficulty ofhis breathing; she felt alarmed when she saw the struggles he seemed tomake for breath, and saw the damp sweat upon his brow, so she called Alfred.
Alfred saw at once that his brother was seriously worse, and summonedFather Cuthbert, who no sooner gazed upon him than he exclaimed that theend was near.
During all that night he breathed heavily and with difficulty, as ifeach breath would be the last. Towards morning, however, he rallied, andimmediate danger seemed gone, although only for a short time.
He sat up for the last time that day. It was a lovely day in May, and inthe heat of the day he seemed to drink in the sweet atmosphere, as itcame gently through the open window, laden with the scents of a hundredflowers. Often his lips moved as if in prayer, and sometimes he spoke tohis brother, and asked when Dunstan would come; but he was not equal toprolonged conversation.
At length one of the ceorls came riding in to say that the Bishop, withhis retinue, was approaching the village, and Father Cuthbert went outto meet him. The impatient anxiety of poor Elfric became painful to witness.
"He is coming, Elfric! he is coming!" said Alfred from the window. "Isee him near; see! he stops to salute Father Cuthbert, whom he knewyears ago; I must go down to receive him.
"Mother! You stay with Elfric."
A sound as of many feet; another moment, a firm step was heard upon thestairs, and Dunstan entered the room.
He advanced to the bed, while all present stood in reverent silence, andgazed upon the patient with a look of such affection as a father mightbestow upon a dying son as he took the weak nerveless hand.
Elfric looked round with a mute appeal which they all comprehended, andleft him alone with Dunstan.
"Father, pardon me!" he said.
"Thou askest pardon of me, my son--of me, a sinner like thyself; Icannot tell thee how freely I give it thee; and now, my son, unburdenthyself before thy God, for never was it known that one pleaded to Himand was cast out."
When, after an interval, Dunstan summoned the lady Edith and Alfred backinto the room, a look cf such calm, placid composure, such satisfiedhappiness, sat upon his worn face, that they never forgot it.
"Surely," thought they, "such is the expression the blessed will wear inheaven."
And then, in their presence, Dunstan administered the Blessed Sacramentof the Body and Blood of Christ to the happy penitent; it was the firstCommunion which he had willingly made since he first left home, a brighthappy boy of fifteen; and words would fail to describe the deep faithand loving penitence with which he gathered his dying strength toreceive the Holy Mysteries.
And then Dunstan administered the last of all earthly rites--the holyanointing;[xxxiii] while amidst their tears the mournersyet thought of Him Who vouchsafed to be anointed before He sanctifiedthe grave to be a bed of hope to His people.
"Art thou
happy now, my son?" said Dunstan, when all was over.
"Happy indeed! happy! yes, so happy!"
They were almost the last words he said, until an hour had passed andthe sun had set, leaving the bright clouds suffused in rich purple, whenhe sat up in the bed.
"Mother! Alfred!" he said, "do you hear that music? Many are singing;surely that was father's voice. Oh! how bright!"
He fell back, and Dunstan began the solemn commendatory prayer, for hesaw the last moment was come.
"Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of God theFather Who hath created thee, of God the Son Who hath redeemed thee, ofGod the Holy Ghost Who hath been poured out upon thee; and may thy abodebe this day in peace, in the heavenly Sion, through Jesus Christ thy Lord."
It was over! Over that brief but eventful life! Over all the brighthopes which had centred on him in this world; but the battle was won,and