r any
attack, should Redwald have arrived and have been rash enough to attempt
one.

The old parsonage house, which had served for the residence of each
successive parish prior or mass-thane, was a large and commodious
building, containing all such accommodation as the family absolutely
required in the emergency, while furniture, provision and comforts of
all kinds were sent over from the priory, for the good fathers did not
forget at this hour of need that they owed their own home to the
liberality of Ella and his father.

So when they had deposited the loved remains before the altar of the
church, and had knelt a brief season in prayer, the exiled family took
possession of their temporary home. It was hard--very hard--to give
up their loved dwelling at such a season of affliction, but the dread
which Redwald had somehow inspired made it a great relief to be removed
from his immediate presence.

Yet they could give no reason for the feeling they all shared. Father
Cuthbert evidently suspected, or knew, things which he as yet concealed
from them.

"Who could have slain the husband and father?"

This was the unanswered question. Their suspicions could only turn to
Redwald or some of his crew: no marauders were known to lurk in the
forest; there was, they felt assured, not one of his own people who
would not have died in his defence. Again, it was not the lust of gold
which had suggested the deed, for they had found the gold chain he wore
untouched. What then could have been the motive of the murderer?

Father Cuthbert had found a solution, which was based upon sad
experience of the traditional feuds so frequently handed down from
father to son. Still he would not suggest further cause of disquietude,
and added no further words.

The utter uncertainty about Elfric was another cause of uneasiness.
Whether he had gone southward with the king, or had fallen on the
battlefield, they knew not; or whether he had surrendered with the
prisoners taken in the entrenched camp, and who had been all admitted to
mercy.

In the course of the morning they saw Redwald return, laden with the
spoils of the Grange farm--oxen and sheep, waggons containing corn,
driven before him. What passed within on his entrance they could not
tell; how narrow their escape they knew not--were not even certain it
had been an escape at all.

It was now determined that the interment should take place on the
morrow, and the intelligence was communi