has no sympathy with poor hearts like ours; it is remorseless,
as though it never knew pity or fear. You must yield, my Edwy! we must
yield!"

"I cannot," he said; "we will fly the throne together."

"But where would you go? this Church is everywhere; who would receive an
excommunicate man?"

"I cannot help it, Elgiva; say no more, it maddens me. Talk of our early
days, before this dark shadow fell upon us."

She took up her harp, as if, like David, she could thereby soothe the
perturbed spirit; but its sweet sounds woke no answer in his breast, and
so the night came upon them--night upon the earth, night upon their souls.

Early in the morning she rose, strong in a woman's affection, while Edwy
yet slept, and hastily arrayed herself; she looked around at her poor
household gods, at the harp, at the many tokens of his love.

"It is for him!" she said. She imprinted her last kiss on his sleeping
forehead, she gazed upon him with fond, fond love; love had been her
all, her heaven: and then she opened the door noiselessly.

Athelwold waited without.

"Well done, noble girl!" he said; "thou keepest thy word right faithfully."

She strove to speak, but could not; her pale bloodless lips would not
frame the words. Silently they descended the stairs; the dawn reddened
the sky; a horse with a lady's equipments waited without, and a guide.

The old thane slipped a purse of gold into her hands.

"You will need it," he said. "Where are you going? you have not told us."

"It is better none should know," she said; "I will decide my route when
without the city."

They never heard of her again.[xxxii]

When Edwy awoke and found her gone he was at first frantic, and sent
messengers in all directions to bring her back; but when one after
another came back unsuccessful, he accepted the heroic sacrifice and
submitted.

Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, but
Mercia was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful king
north of the Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy himself.

CHAPTER XXV. "FOR EVER WITH THE LORD."

Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of
Aescendune and the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958
had well-nigh ended. During the interval, a long and hard winter had
grievously tried the shattered constitution of Elfric. He had recovered
from the fever and the effects of his wound in a few weeks, yet only
par