t seems to me not a bad idea. I must confess
that the birth and fortune of the lady added no beauty to her in my
eyes, as it seems to have done in those of others; yet I cannot but
think that the woman would make a suitable match for me. She is an
earl's daughter, and she will inherit great wealth; these are advantages
which fairly compensate some lack of beauty. I have decided, therefore,
sire, if I can gain your approbation, to ask Olgar for his daughter's
hand. I fancy I can gain her consent if I have his."

"I shall certainly not stand in your way," said the king, pleased with
the opportunity to advance his favorite's fortunes. "By all means do as
you propose. I will give you letters to the earl and his lady,
recommending the match. You must trust to yourself to make your way with
the maiden."

"I think she is not quite displeased with me," answered Athelwold.

What followed few words may tell. The passion of love in Athelwold's
heart had driven out all considerations of honor and duty, of the good
faith he owed the king, and of the danger of his false and treacherous
course. Warm with hope, he returned with a lover's haste to Devonshire,
where he gained the approval of the earl and countess, won the hand and
seemingly the heart of their beautiful daughter, and was speedily united
to the lady of his love, and became for the time being the happiest man
in England.

But before the honey-moon was well over, the faithless friend and
subject realized that he had a difficult and dangerous part to play. He
did not dare let Edgar see his wife, for fear of the instant detection
of his artifice, and he employed every pretence to keep her in the
country. His duties at the court brought him frequently to London, but
with the skill at excuses he had formerly shown he contrived to satisfy
for the time the queries of the king and the importunities of his wife,
who had a natural desire to visit the capital and to shine at the king's
court.

Athelwold was sailing between Scylla and Charybdis. He could scarcely
escape being wrecked on the rocks of his own falsehood. The enemies who
always surround a royal favorite were not long in surmising the truth,
and lost no time in acquainting Edgar with their suspicions.
Confirmation was not wanting. There were those in London who had seen
Elfrida. The king's eyes were opened to the treacherous artifice of
which he had been made the victim.

Edgar was deeply incensed, but artfully conce