Two years passed thus, and if Egwina’s heart ever turned with longing toward that far-off time when, beloved and honored, she dwelt an inmate of the king’s household, or if the image of Edward rose before her, none knew of it save herself. It was spring. Egwina drew back the linen blind that did duty in place of glass, which was in use only by the nobles or churches, and leaned out. The air came soft and fresh against her face. A song thrush on a budding tree near the window trilled forth his merry lay, and the maiden listened with light heart. “Hail to thee, maiden,” said a townsman who was passing, saluting her. “Heardest thou the news?” “Nay, I have heard naught,” answered the maiden, returning the salutation. “What hath happened?” “King Alfred and Edward the atheling have come against the city, and Dane and Saxon alike have acknowledged him as overlord. Now hath he brought a great army of workmen and prepareth to rebuild the wall with which the Roman once encompassed the city. Fortifications and manors also doth he purpose erecting.” “Is the king himself in the burgh?” questioned the maiden, faint with joy. “He himself is here,” replied the citizen. “Royal doings shall we have amongst us, for the king’s son-in-law, Ethelred, the ealdorman of Mercia, and the lady Ethelfleda, his wife, are with him. A goodly company, I trow! I’ll warrant that there will be rare doings amongst us,” and he passed on. Here! In the same place! Egwina sank back on a seat almost overcome. Those dear people whom she had not seen for so long! Unknown to them she would gaze upon their faces again. And Siegbert! He, too, should see them. Together would they watch for them, and he should know them at least by sight. Full of excitement, she awaited the return of Siegbert with impatience. “Thou shalt see them if thou wilt, my sister,” said Siegbert, kissing her. “I, too, would see the king, and what manner of man the atheling be. Of excellent taste since he hath fancied thee, Egwina. ’Tis pity ’twere displeasing to the king. Thou art fit mate for any, be he atheling or what not.” “At least my life hath not been preserved twice on account of beauty,” retorted the girl, saucily, flushing rosy red at his praise. Siegbert smiled at her. “Wottest thou not that Hilda said that we looked alike?” he asked. “Stoodst thou in my place before Dane, I trow that there could be found no Norseman, howe’er fierce, that could find it in his heart to slay thee. List! What was that? Methought that I heard a groan.” Both listened, and plainly there came to their ears the sound of some one moaning as if in pain. “Some one hath been hurt, or o’ertaken by misease,” exclaimed Siegbert, rising. “I will see if it be near. It so sounded.” He opened the door. Prone upon the entrance lay the figure of a man. “Now, who art thou, and what aileth thee, that thou dost utter moan?” asked Siegbert as he bent over the prostrate form. “Let me enter in pity’s name,” spoke the man, feebly.