Now this lady was no other than Ogina, Queen of France, the sister of Prince Edwin.  Being on a visit at the house of a great lord on the coast of Picardy, she had come down to the beach that morning, with her ladies of honor, to bathe:  a custom among ladies, even of the highest rank, in those days.  Hearing that a Saxon bark had been driven on shore by the storm, and seeing the disconsolate figure of Wilfrid on the beach, she had drawn near, and, unperceived by the suffering youth, had overheard his melancholy soliloquy.

While Wilfrid related the sad story of his master’s untimely fate, the royal lady wept aloud.  After he had concluded his melancholy tale, she took him to the castle of which she was herself an inmate, and commended him to the care of her noble host, who quickly attended to all his wants, and furnished him with dry garments.

When Wilfrid had taken due rest and refreshment, the queen requested that he should be brought into her presence.  He was, accordingly, ushered into a stately apartment, where Ogina was seated under a crimson canopy, fringed with gold.  She bade him draw near, and extended her hand toward him.  Being well acquainted with courtly customs, the youth respectfully bowed his knee and humbly kissed the hand of the royal lady, who proceeded to say,—­

“Thou hast been found true when the only reward thou didst expect for thy faithfulness was a cruel death.  But surely thou hast been conducted by a kind Providence into the presence of one who has both the will and the power to requite thee for thy fidelity to the unfortunate Atheling; for I am his sister, the Queen of France.”

“And I have then the honor to stand before the royal Ogina, daughter of my late lord, King Edward, and Queen of King Charles of France?” said Wilfrid, again bowing himself.

“The same,” replied the queen, taking a ring of great value from her finger and placing it on that of the page.

“Take this ring,” continued she, “in token of my favor; and if thou wilt serve me in one thing, I will make thee the greatest lord in my husband’s court.”

“Royal lady,” said Wilfrid, “I have a widowed mother in my own land whom I cannot forsake; neither would I desert my native country to become a peer of France.  But tell me wherein I can be of service to thee, and if it be in my power it shall be done.”

“Darest thou,” said the queen, “return to England and presenting thyself before my brother Athelstane, thy king, declare to him the innocence and the sad fate of Edwin, the Atheling, his father’s son?”

“Lady, I not only dare, but I desire so to do,” replied Wilfrid; “for I fear my God, and I have no other fear.”

Then the Queen of France loaded Wilfrid with rich presents, and sent him over to England in a gallant ship to bear the mournful tidings of poor Prince Edwin’s death to England’s king.  She thought that when Athelstane should hear the sad tale told in the pathetic language of the faithful page, his heart would be touched with remorse for what he had done.