aled his anger. Reflection,
too, told him that these men were Athelwold's enemies, and that the man
he had loved and trusted ought not to be condemned on the insinuations
of his foes. He would satisfy himself if his favorite had played the
traitor, and if so would visit him with the punishment he deserved.

"Athelwold," said Edgar, in easy tones, "I am surprised you do not bring
your wife to court. Surely the woman, if she is true woman, must crave
to come."

"Not she," answered Athelwold. "She loves the country well and is a
pattern of the rural virtues. The woman is homely and home-loving, and I
should be sorry to put new ideas in her rustic pate. Moreover, I fear my
little candle would shine too poorly among your courtly stars to offer
her in contrast."

"Fie on you, man! the wife of Athelwold cannot be quite a milkmaid. If
you will not bring her here, then I must pay you a visit in your castle;
I like you too well not to know and like your wife."

This proposition of the king filled Athelwold with terror and dismay. He
grew pale, and hesitatingly sought to dissuade Edgar from his project,
but in vain. The king had made up his mind, and laughingly told him
that he could not rest till he had seen the homely housewife whom
Athelwold was afraid to trust in court.

"I feel the honor you would do me," at length remarked the dismayed
favorite. "I only ask, sire, that you let me go before you a few hours,
that my castle may be properly prepared for a visit from my king."

"As you will, gossip," laughed the king. "Away with you, then; I will
soon follow."

In all haste the traitor sought his castle, quaking with fear, and
revolving in his mind schemes for avoiding the threatened disclosure. He
could think of but one that promised success, and that depended on the
love and compliance of Elfrida. He had deceived her. He must tell her
the truth. With her aid his faithless action might still be concealed.

Entering his castle, he sought Elfrida and revealed to her the whole
measure of his deceit, how he had won her from the king, led by his
overpowering love, how he had kept her from the king's eyes, and how
Edgar now, filled, he feared, with suspicion, was on his way to the
castle to see her for himself.

In moving accents the wretched man appealed to her, if she had any
regard for his honor and his life, to conceal from the king that fatal
beauty which had lured him from his duty to his friend and monarch, and
led h