is ears, and lulled him pleasantly to sleep.

At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such
inferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place,
contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then there
was far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had no
cause to complain of the cowherd's table.

Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself
with the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing
earnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they
heard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared in
sight.

Alfred rose up eagerly.

"Are they safe?" he cried.

"Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers got
to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above."

"Did they try to follow?"

"They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage."

Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked
up in the face of the guide.

"Will you guide us home?" he said.

"Yes," was the reply; "the holy abbot particularly desired me to return
to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and if
you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to
Aescendune, for we are not worth following."

"Then let us start tomorrow morning," said Alfred, longing to be once
more in his old father's presence, and to cheer his mother's heart.

They returned together to the cowherd's cottage, and slept peacefully
that night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way,
crossing the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well rested
and full of spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still empty
and desolate, in the middle of the day, and retraced by easy stages the
whole of Alfred's previous route from home.

After a week's easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, they
reached the neighbourhood of Aescendune: it had never looked so lovely,
so home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full of
joy, and as he was recognised by person after person, by his favourite
dogs as they bounded forth, and finally fell into his mother's arms at
the gate of the hall, he experienced feelings which in these days, when
we are all so familiar with the thought of travel, can seldom be realised.

Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to an
admi