and was a sacred
stream, she resolved to end her days. But the time of her retirement was
not yet, there was much still waiting for her to do in her master's
fields and pleasure-grounds. For no sooner had the tidings of her work
in founding these monasteries and the lavish use she was making of her
great wealth been spread abroad, than from many religious houses all
over the land the cry was sent to her--the Macedonian cry to St. Paul to
come over and help us.

From the houses founded by Edgar the cry was particularly loud and
insistent. There were forty-seven of them, and had not Edgar died so
soon there would have been fifty, that being the number he had set his
heart on in his fervid zeal for religion. All, alas! were insufficiently
endowed; and it was for Elfrida, as they were careful to point out, to
increase their income from her great wealth, seeing that this would
enable them to associate her name with that of Edgar and keep it in
memory, and this would be good for her soul.

To all such calls she listened, and she performed many and long journeys
to the religious houses all over the country to look closely into their
conditions and needs, and to all she gave freely or in moderation, but
not always without a gesture of scorn. For in her heart of hearts she
was still Elfrida and unchanged, albeit outwardly she had attained to
humility; only once during these years of travel and toil when she was
getting rid of her wealth did she allow her secret bitterness and
hostility to her ecclesiastical guides and advisers to break out.

She was at Worcester, engaged in a conference with the bishop and
several of his clergy; they were sitting at an oak table with some
papers and plans before them, when the news was brought into the room
that Archbishop Dunstan was dead.

They all, except Elfrida, started to their feet with the looks and
exclamations of dismay, as if some frightful calamity had come to pass.
Then dropping to their knees with bowed heads and lifted hands they
prayed for the repose of his soul. They prayed silently, but the silence
was broken by a laugh from the queen. Starting to his feet the bishop
turned on her a severe countenance, and asked why she laughed at that
solemn moment.

She replied that she had laughed unthinkingly, as the linnet sings, from
pure joy of heart at the glad tidings that their holy archbishop had
been translated to paradise. For if he had done so much for England when
burdened