Lent, 1018.—­

A strange discovery has been made which interests us all greatly.  At the time of Alfgar’s trial at Oxford, Herstan fancied there must be a secret staircase communicating with Edmund’s room, but sought it in vain.  Now that Edric has avowed the deed, Hermann has obtained the king’s permission to make a thorough search all through the house, and in the thickness of the huge stone chimney a secret staircase has been found, with a door opening through the thickness of the wall and panelling into the room in which Edmund slept, as well as another door opening into the banqueting hall, where Sigeferth and Morcar were murdered.  It is all clear as day now.  Edric must have entered the royal chamber from the banqueting hall in the dead of the night, and thus, when no human eye beheld, have accomplished his evil deed.  Ah, well! he could not escape the eye of Him who has said “Vengeance is mine, I will repay.”

Eastertide, 1018—­

A son is born to Alfgar and Ethelgiva; and today, Low Sunday, they presented their babe to Him who said, “Suffer little children to come unto me.”  They have named him Edmund.  The grandparents, both well and happy, were present; and the proud and happy father’s eyes sparkled with joy over his little Edmund, glistening from the baptismal font.  It fell to my happy lot thus to enrol the dear child amongst the lambs of Christ’s fold.  God grant him length of days here, and endless length of days beyond the skies when time shall be no more!

. . . . . .

Here we close our extracts from Father Cuthbert’s Diary; but; before taking leave of him, we are sure our readers would like to hear a few more words about his future fortunes, and those of the house of Aescendune.

Better king than Canute, saving only the great Alfred, and perhaps Edgar, had never sat on the English throne.  Under his auspices a change became visible throughout the whole country:  villages again gladdened the blackened wastes; minsters and churches were rebuilt, whose broad, square Saxon towers yet hand down the memory of our ancestors.  Agriculture revived; golden corn covered the bloodstained scenes of warfare; men lived once more in peace under the shadow of their homes, none daring to make them afraid.  Peace, with its hallowed associations, gladdened England for fifty long years {xxi}.

Anlaf was the first of the group we have introduced to our readers to leave this transitory world for a better one.  He died a few years after the accession of Canute.  Father Cuthbert survived him many years, and died honoured and lamented in the last year of the great king.

His brother Elfwyn, and the lady Hilda, full of years, having outlived the natural span of man’s appointed years, followed him shortly—­not till they had seen their grandchildren, a numerous and hopeful progeny, grow up around them, and so perpetuate their race upon earth.

And for Alfgar and Ethelgiva, they lived to see a their children’s children, and peace upon Israel, surviving until the close of the reign of Edward the Confessor, the son of Ethelred and Emma.  Their days were days of peace, in strange contrast to their youthful years.