he found there--and that was all. Well, when
Sweyn comes, he may, if he will, make a public example to all
apostates in your honoured person; meanwhile Edmund thinks you have
deserted him."

No torturer ever seemed to take a keener pleasure in the throes of his
victim, than Edric in the mental agony he kindled in the breast of his
unhappy prisoner.

"But I said I might release you, or at least mitigate your fate, on
one condition, that you answer me a plain question directly and
plainly. Under what name does Edmund travel, and what disguise, and
does he purpose to trust himself in the Danish camp again? Where is he
at present residing? he has disappeared from the palace."

"Monster!" said Alfgar, "you tempt like Satan. Away, and leave me to
my fate."

"You will think better of it by and by when confinement upon bread and
water has tamed you. I will come once more, but it will be the last
time; and, mark you, should your people be defeated--the Danes I
mean--still your escape would not necessarily follow; the house might
take fire, it is of timber, and would soon burn down; a sad misfortune
it would be.

"Good morning. I am going to mass with the king; shall I say a Pater
and an Ave for you, since you are prevented from being there. The
saints have you in their holy keeping!"

His manner throughout had been like that of a cat playing with a
mouse, and there was quite a gratified smile upon his lips as he went.

Strange to say, Alfgar felt less miserable after he was gone. The
wickedness of Edric seemed so great, his hypocrisy so unblushing, that
in his simple faith Alfgar could not believe that he would be allowed
to succeed. Many a holy text in the Psalms came to his mind, and
seemed to assure him of Divine protection.

"I myself have seen the ungodly in great power; and flourishing like a
green bay tree.

"I went by, and, lo! he was gone; I sought him, but his place could
nowhere be found.

"Seek innocency, and take heed to the thing that is right: for that
shall bring a man peace at the last."

"So, come what will," said he, "I will trust in Him and never will I
save my life by uttering one word which might betray the innocent."

In this manner days lengthened into weeks. He tried in vain to open
any intercourse with his ferocious jailor, whose ward was sometimes
shared by a comrade, when there was much ungodly revelry below, and
snatches of Danish war songs mingled with profane oaths. The deep,
deep