He hastened back into the house with eager footsteps, and the agitated girl sank down upon the sward. Soon she heard voices, and wishing not to meet any one for a while, she withdrew into the shadows of the trees. It was Alfred himself and his wife, Elswitha. “Dear lord,” the lady was saying, “hast noted how fair the maiden Egwina groweth?” “Yea; but not before these last few days. I fear, Elswitha, that soon she, too, will leave us for some other’s abode.” “My lord, Edward looks upon the maiden with loving eyes.” “Sayest thou so?” cried Alfred. “Why, the boy is but young! Art thou not mistaken?” “Nay, a mother’s heart doth not deceive her, Alfred. Thou wert but eighteen thyself when we were wed. Thy son is almost the same age now as thou wert then.” “Sayest thou so?” Alfred seemed to be startled. “Why, ’tis but the other day that he received sword and buckler!” “Swiftly doth the time fly,” returned Elswitha. “I know that which I tell thee is true, and it hath grieved me, Alfred, for Egwina is not noble.” “True,” assented the king; “she comes not of noble blood.” Egwina covered her face with her hands. Was it not as she had thought it would be? Now these dear people, who had done so much for her, who had been so kind, would be displeased. Alfred and the lady passed on. Egwina sobbed aloud in her loneliness. “Maiden,” came a low whisper. Egwina looked up to see the form of Gyda again beside her. “I have heard all. All that the youth said to thee, and what the king and his wife said also. Seest thou not that they wish thee not? Come! Gyda will cherish thee as her own.” Egwina looked at her hopelessly. “What shall I do, Gyda?” she cried. “I could not bear that they should be cold to me.” “Thou needst not bear it, child. Come with me. I promise thee that thou shalt not regret it. Come! Edward must not find thee here when he returns. Come!” She held out her hand. Scarcely knowing what she was doing, Egwina put her own within it, and the two glided noiselessly into the woods. CHAPTER XIX—DARK DAYS Away into the forest they went, the seid woman keeping fast hold of Egwina’s hand, and speaking not. Once the maiden thought she heard the voice of Edward calling, “Egwina! Egwina!” She half paused but Gyda hurried her on. At last the wicca stopped before a small, low cottage quite outside the demesne of the royal vill. In answer to her knock, the door was thrown open and they entered the hut. The inmates, a wite and his wife, seemed to know the seid woman, and accepted the presence of Egwina without question. Gyda did not pause to converse with them, but half carried the drooping form of the girl into an adjoining room which was evidently used by her as a bower chamber. “There, child, lie down,” she said, not unkindly. “Spent art thou with thy exertions, and grief maketh heavy thy heart. Rest, while I prepare thee hot drink.”