bay of the mastiff sometimes gave warning of the advent of a
stranger, or of the step heard from the distance, in the still deep
night; but this was all that Alfgar could learn of the outer world,
from which he was banished at so critical a moment.

CHAPTER XV. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY AT CLIFFTON.

SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT.--

The evening, after the Vesper service in the church was over, and
darkness had closed in, we all sat down to our evening meal. The doors
were shut to keep out the storm, and I had already said grace, when
the Etheling suddenly appeared.

His manner struck us all. He looked wild and agitated, and his first
words cast a chill over us.

"Where is Alfgar?"

"Is he not with you, what has happened?" said I and Herstan, speaking
in the same breath.

"No, I have lost him. I had hoped to find him here; they must have
murdered him," he cried.

"Murdered him?"

"Yes, he was too dangerous to Edric to be suffered to live. I might
have foreseen it; and they have put him out of the way by cowardly
assassination," insisted the Etheling.

There was too much reason in his words.

"Besides," said he, "if he were well and uninjured, would he not have
come here, where he was sure of a welcome?"

"I will go to Dorchester at once," said Herstan.

"It is useless," said Edmund; but my brother, having learnt all that
the prince could tell him, mounted and rode into the town.

Meanwhile Edmund evidently needed our care; we found he had not eaten
all day.

"I have risked my life for my country," he said, "and now that I bring
tidings which ought to circulate through the land like the wind, and
rouse every man to action, I am disbelieved. Nay, it is hinted that I
drank too much Danish wine and mead, and misunderstood what I heard. I
could brain the man who dared say so to my face. I could--and would.
Meanwhile no steps are taken, no levies called out; but I will myself
alarm the country. The innocent blood shall not be on my head."

"Surely they must heed your warning," said we all together.

"Not they. The fox, Edric, pretended that it was all moonshine."

"But did you not expose his treachery?" asked I.

"I tried to do so; but he pulled out a bit of some hedge, which he
said was a holy thorn from St. Joseph's tree at Glastonbury, and that
he was there on pilgrimage when Alfgar saw him--saw him, mark you--at
the Danish camp on the borders of Sussex; and I saw men, I won't
mention names, who had mo