The bishop was very kind and loving, and spoke most affectionately to our poor people on the subject of their past trials; especially he commended their new lord, Alfgar, to their allegiance, saying that in all his deep trials he had shown himself a most perfect Christian, doing his duty both to God and man.

Monday.—­

The abbot and brethren from Abingdon are gone back, and we poor happy brethren have entered again upon our regular duties.  Ah me! what a gap time has made in our ranks.  Of the twenty brethren who were driven out by the Danes eleven years ago, only twelve yet live, and eight brethren from Abingdon supply the place of the others.  God be praised that Father Adhelm yet lives!  He has been my right hand in so many perils and trials.

It is so delightful to be at home once more.  Surely never were monks happier.  My heart swells when each morning we sing the three last joyful psalms at lauds.

It is settled that Alfgar and Ethelgiva are to be married on the Monday after the Whitsun octave.  O happy pair!  O ter felices et nimium beati!  I only hope they will not love earth too well.

Octave of the Ascension.—­

Today we have had a special messenger from Canute, who is in the neighbourhood, to express his royal intention to grace the approaching marriage with his presence.  It will indeed be an honour.  Ah! but if Edmund could be there.

Whitsunday.—­

I hardly know how to express my intense surprise and joy.  Alfgar’s father has returned—­a Christian.

While all the people were assembling for mass this morning, an aged man, clad in palmer’s weeds, evidently worn by toil and travel, came from the bridge over the river, which has been rebuilt, towards the minster church, and entering, knelt down wrapt in devotion.  Many remarked his quaint attire; his face, once stern, now softened by grace; his hair, once black as the raven’s wing, now white as snow; his dark eyes gleaming beneath thick white eyebrows.  I fear he caused many wandering thoughts, and he would have caused yet more, could they have known that they beheld the penitent destroyer of the old hall and priory.

Now I preached, not knowing at the time who was amongst my hearers, from the words of Isaiah, “For thy waste and desolate places, and the land of thy destruction, shall even now be too narrow, by reason of the inhabitants, and they that swallowed thee up shall be far away.  The children which thou shalt have, after thou hast lost the other, shall say again in thine ears.  The place is too strait for me; give place to me, that I may dwell.”

Oh, how touching the words seemed; for our waste and desolate places are indeed peopled with joy and gladness, and many must have thought of dear Bertric, our martyr boy, when they heard those words, “the children which thou shalt have, after thou hast lost the other.”  They seemed a divine prophecy of joy and gladness unto us.