"Edmund," cried his sister, "I see what you will do. You will make me a widow; for Edric cannot live if you refuse him forgiveness. Night after night he tosses on his uneasy bed, and wishes that it were day. Surely, Edmund, you have need of forgiveness yourself, yet you refuse to forgive." "You preach like a bishop, but--" "Well, you have a real bishop here. Call him, and let him judge between us." Edmund mechanically obeyed, and he called Father Cuthbert also, in whose judgment he had great faith. "What am I to do?" he said. "My country's wounds, inflicted by this man, yet bleed. Am I to give him the hand of friendship?" "I do not deserve it," said Edric, meekly. "My lord," said the bishop, gravely, "man may not refuse forgiveness to his fellow worm; but, Edric, hast thou truly repented of thy sin before God and his Church?" "I have indeed. I have fasted in sackcloth and ashes, I have eaten the bread of affliction." "Where?" "In my sad retreat, my castle in Mercia." "But some public reparation is due. Art thou willing to accept such penance as the Church, in consideration of thy perjuries, thy murders, which man may not avenge, since treaties protect thee--but which God will surely remember, if thou repent not--to accept such penance, I say, as the Church shall impose?" "I submit myself to your judgment, most reverend father." "It shall be duly considered and delivered to thee; and in consideration of that fact, I think, my lord, you cannot, as a Christian man, refuse to be reconciled." "O Edmund, my brother, be merciful!" said Elgitha. "I yield," said Edmund, "but not tonight," he said, as Edric stretched out his hand, reddened by many a dark deed of murder; "tomorrow, before God's altar. I shall be at St. Frideswide's at the early mass." And he returned to the company. A cloud was evidently on his spirits that night, which did not wear off the rest of the evening. The party separated at what would now be called an early hour. The bishop and Father Cuthbert lodged at the monastic house of Osney; Elfwyn, his wife and child, as also Herstan, with his little party, were accommodated in the mansion. The chamber occupied by the king was a long roomy place, containing a single bedstead of carved wood, surmounted by the usual distinctive canopy, from which tapestried hangings depended, and upon which scriptural subjects were woven; the furniture of the room partook of the usual meagreness of the times. The entrance was through a small antechamber, wherein, on a humbler bedstead, Alfgar slept. Both rooms were hung with tapestry, which concealed rough walls, such as a builder would blush to own as his handiwork in these luxurious days. Before retiring to rest, Edmund turned with much affection to his attendant. "Alfgar, I have promised to forgive our enemy." "Edric Streorn?" Alfgar added no more. "Couldst thou forgive him?" "I would try."