In one corner of the hall stood a noble-looking Saxon lady dressed in deep mourning, and holding a little boy by the hand.  The lady was evidently a widow, and of high rank, for she wore a widow’s hood and barb—­the barb, a piece of white lawn, that covered the lower part of the face, being worn only by widows of high degree.  The little boy, too, was also arrayed in black attire; his youthful countenance bore an expression of the utmost grief, and his large blue eyes were full of tears.  This sorrowful pair did not press forward like the other petitioners, but kept at a modest distance from the throne, evidently waiting for the king to give them some encouraging signal before they ventured to approach him.

The royal Athelstane’s attention was at length attracted by the anxious glances which both mother and son bent upon him; and as he perceived that they were in distress, he waved his hand for them to draw near.

“Who are ye?” said the king, when the mournful widow and her son, in obedience to his encouraging sign, advanced, and bowed the knee before him.

“Will my royal lord be graciously pleased to answer me one question before I reply to that which he has asked of me?” said the Saxon lady.

“Speak on,” replied King Athelstane.

“Is it just that the innocent should suffer for the guilty, O King?” said she.

“Assuredly not,” replied the king.

“Then, wherefore,” said the Saxon lady, “hast thou deprived my son, Wilfrid, of his inheritance, for the fault of his father?  Cendric has already paid the forfeit of his life for having unhappily leagued himself with a traitor who plotted against thy royal life; but this boy, his guiltless orphan, did never offend thee!  Why, then, should he be doomed to poverty and contempt?”

“It was the crime of the traitor Cendric, not my will, that deprived his son of his inheritance,” said the king.

“I acknowledge it with grief, my royal lord,” said Ermengarde, for that was the name of the Saxon widow; “but it rests with thy good pleasure to restore to his innocent child the forfeit lands of the unhappy Cendric.”

“Is this boy the son of the traitor Cendric?” asked the king, placing his hand on the head of the weeping Wilfrid.

“He is, my gracious lord,” replied Ermengarde.  “He has been carefully brought up in the fear of God, and I, his widowed mother, will be surety to thee, that the boy shall serve thee truly and faithfully all the days of his life if thou wilt but restore him to his inheritance.”

“Widow of Cendric, listen to me,” said the king.  “Thy husband plotted with traitors to deprive me of my crown and my life; and the laws of his country, which he had broken, doomed him to death, and confiscated his lands and castles to my use.  I might retain them in my own hands, if it were my pleasure so to do; but I will only hold them in trust for thy son, whom I will make my ward, and place in the college at Oxford.  If he there conducts himself to my satisfaction, I will, when he comes of age, restore to him the forfeited lands of his father, Cendric.”