The maiden sank on the bed, and gave way to her woe. Soon the wicca returned with a horn full of steaming liquid. “Drink!” she commanded, and the maiden drank obediently. “’Tis a potion that will lull thee to dreamless repose, and woe will sit lightly on thy pillow.” The eyes of the maiden waxed heavy as the drug took effect, and soon she sank into a deep sleep. The seid woman bent over her, noting her fairness exultantly. “Now shalt thou be to me as mine own child,” she murmured. “Happy shalt thou be, for I will love thee. Always shalt thou be by my side, and even though the king himself should claim thee, thou shalt not leave me. Sleep, my pretty one! None shall take thee now from Gyda.” Morning dawned. Egwina awoke from her heavy slumber, and gazed about her. “How came I here?” she murmured as she arose. “Methinks it be strange to me.” “Art thou up, Egwina?” asked the seid woman, entering the room at this moment. At sight of her the memory of all that had happened came back to Egwina with a shock. “That is well,” continued Gyda. “Breakfast we eat, and then wend we on our journey.” “Where go we?” asked the maiden, turning from her that she might not see her emotion. “To Gunnehilde’s in the forest of Selwood,” answered Gyda pretending not to notice Egwina’s grief. “Afterward to Athelney, where Alfred gathered his forces together. There, mayhap, I will acquire new virtue. The Saxon King is my Flygia. Thou dost not mind returning thither, dost thou?” “Nay,” answered the girl sadly; “it matters not where we wayfare.” “Be not cast down, child,” said the woman gently. “Some dark threads are woven into the woof of each life. All cannot be golden. Thou art young and soon will thy trouble fall from thee even as the shadow halting between the light and the darkness passes away into the night. Sorrow sits not long with the young. Come, let us eat.” Egwina partook mechanically of the food set before her, and then prepared to follow Gyda on her journey. They proceeded silently, for the heart of the maiden was heavy, and Gyda, too, seemed weighed down by some care. At last the seid woman aroused herself, and turned to the girl: “Let us beguile the journey by talk, my child. Wouldst thou that I should read thy rede for thee?” “Nay, Gyda; I care no more for rede or rune. Dark are the shadows which they cast, and I would fain be free from their witchery.” “Yet, natheless, give me thy palm. Believe as thou wilt. Belief cometh not at the bidding; neither doth it depart. Thou believest not; I believe. Yield, then, thy palm for my pleasure.” Reluctantly the maiden permitted the woman to scan the lines of her hand. Gyda’s troubled look returned as she examined them. “Dark, dark spreads the near future,” she cried. “Bright is the ending, but, oh, child! thy trouble hath but begun. Would I had left thee with Alfred. It is not yet too late. Come, let us retrace our steps. Thus only canst thou avoid the danger.”