"No more of that an thou lovest me, Elfric; my poor hand is almost worn
out already."
"The day must have tired you, the scene was so exciting."
Edwy yawned as he replied, "Thank God it is over; I thought Odo was
going to preach to me all day, and the incense almost stifled me; the
one good thing is that it is done now, and all England--Kent, Sussex,
Wessex, Essex, Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia--have all
acknowledged me as their liege lord, the Basileus of Britain. What is
done can't be undone, and Dunstan may eat his leek now, and go to fight
Satan again."
Elfric looked up in some surprise.
"What do you think, my friend; who do you suppose is here in the palace,
in the royal apartments?"
"Who?"
"Elgiva, the fair Elgiva, the lovely Elgiva, dear Elgiva, and her
mother. Oh, but I shall love to look upon her face when the feast is
done, and the grim-beards have gone!"
"But Dunstan?"
"Dunstan may go and hang himself; he can't scrape off the consecrated
oil, or carry away crown, bracelet, and sceptre, to hide with the other
royal treasures at Glastonbury; but the feast is beginning, and you must
come and sit on my right hand."
"No, no," said Elfric, who saw at once what an impropriety this would
be, "not yet; besides, my old father is here, and has kept a seat beside
himself for me."
"Well, goodbye for the present; I shall expect you after the feast.
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