It seemed to her that she had slept but a short time when something awakened her. She lay quite still trying to determine what it could be, and hearing only the soughing of the wind. Suddenly, she felt her hand taken softly, and the sapphire ring which Ethelfleda had given her was gently withdrawn from her finger. For a moment the girl thought that she must be dreaming, and quickly clasped her right hand over the left. The ring was in truth gone. She grew numb with fear as the fact dawned upon her. There was a thief in the room. Her heart almost stopped its beating, and then began to throb fast. Was it one of the monks? No, no; they were too good, too kind for that! It must be, it was Ælfric the juggler, who had joined them on their journey. Had he not looked covetously upon the jewel? At this moment she heard the thief moving quietly toward the door. The sound broke the spell that held her. It was too dark for her to see anything, but she sprang from the bed shrieking: “Grandfather! grandfather! Awake! awake!” There was a muttered ejaculation from the intruder. He turned, bounded back toward her and felled her, with a blow; then, as Wulfhere ran into the room, dashed from the house. “Egwina! Egwina!” called the harper in alarm. “What is it? What hath befallen thee?” There was no response, and in trying to reach the couch, he stumbled over the body of the girl. “My child! My child!” broke from his lips in agonized accents as he recognized Egwina’s form by the feel of her garments and hair. “What hath happened to thee, little one?” Still there came no reply, and almost crazed by the darkness and the silence, Wulfhere ran across the courtyard and began to pound with all his might upon the portals of the convent, calling upon the abbot as he did so. “What hath happened?” cried the abbot from within in response to the clamor. “Why rouse ye reverend men from needed slumber?” “Because,” cried Wulfhere, frantically, “something hath befallen my child. I know not what evil hath been wrought, but only that she lieth dead or in a swoon. For the love of heaven, good father, open unto me!” There was a rattle of chains, and then the door swung back, and the old man was surrounded by the monks. “What is it, son?” demanded the abbot. “I know not,” cried Wulfhere, “save only that Egwina cried out to me in terror. Now lies she there, and whether she be quick or dead I wot not. Come!” The abbot was quick to act. “A leech and herbs,” he commanded. Without further parley, he ran rapidly with Wulfhere to the guest-house, the monks following. Egwina still lay unconscious on the floor. The abbot and Wulfhere stroked her hands while the leech applied various restoratives. Soon the maiden showed signs of returning consciousness, and the leech gave her a drink which he prepared from the herbs. In a short time she had so far recovered as to be able to tell her story. “And see, granther,” she concluded, “the ring that the maiden gave me hath been taken.”