The bishop approached.

“Are ye all fasting with prayer?” he inquired.

The friends of accused and accuser from either side replied: 

“We are.”

“Humble yourselves, and pray to God to reveal the truth,” said he, and sprinkled them with holy water, after which the book of the Gospels was passed all round to be kissed.

“Pray that God may reveal the truth,” said he again.

“We do so pray.”

Then Alfgar, who felt full of divine confidence, took his place at the end nearest the porch.  He was given the book of the Gospels.

“Swear thy innocence upon the holy Gospels,” said the bishop.

“I do swear that I am innocent of the crime they lay to my charge;” and he kissed the book; then holy water was sprinkled upon his feet, and given him to drink.

The decisive moment approached.  He looked round, he saw Ethelgiva, her eyes full of tears, her lips moving in prayer.

All fear departed from him.

The bishop blindfolded him.

“My son, trust in God, and in His strength go forward,” he whispered.

Alfgar could see nought now.  A line of red string was stretched from the bishop’s hand to that of a priest at the other extremity, to guide him.  Canute advanced, took the end from the priest’s hand and held it.

Alfgar started one step.  The first iron is passed safely—­two, the second cleared.  The excitement is intense.  Three cleared—­four, five.  Ah, he nears the sixth!  No, he misses it!—­seven, eight—­one more—­nine!  Saved by god!

Ethelgiva fainted.  A deep sound of applause, not even suppressed by the character of the place.  Elfwyn received his adopted son in his arms: 

“Saved, saved!” he cried.

“Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory!” replied Alfgar.

When the first congratulations were over, and Alfgar had somewhat recovered from the excitement of the shock, and from the congratulations which were heaped upon him upon all sides, he was told that Canute awaited him in the audience chamber, and at once repaired to the presence of his future king with less emotion than may be imagined; for he was worn out by sensation, and becoming callous to impressions.

He was formally introduced by the officer in waiting, and the king at once dismissed that functionary.

“Alfgar, son of Anlaf, we have met before,” observed the monarch.

“We have, my lord.”

“I did not refer to later occasions, when we have met on the battlefield, but to a far earlier one.  Need I recall it?  Surely there are some moments in one’s life never to be forgotten.”

“There are indeed, my lord.  Pardon my confusion.  You refer to a scene in Carisbrooke.”