The whole kingdom supported his act, and the hopes of Elfrida
were seemingly at an end.
But she was a woman not to be easily defeated. She bided her time, and
affected warm regard for the youthful king, who loved her as if he had
been her own son, and displayed the most tender affection for his
brother. Edward, indeed, was a character out of tone with those rude
tenth-century days, when might was right, and murder was often the first
step to a throne. He was of the utmost innocence of heart and amiability
of manners, so pure in his own thoughts that suspicion of others found
no place in his soul.
One day, four years after his accession, he was hunting in a forest in
Dorsetshire, not far from Corfe-castle, where Elfrida and Ethelred
lived. The chances of the chase led him to the vicinity of the castle,
and, taking advantage of the opportunity to see its loved inmates, he
rode away from his attendants, and in the evening twilight sounded his
hunting-horn at the castle gates.
This was the opportunity which the ambitious woman had desired. The
rival of her son had put himself unattended within her reach. Hastily
preparing for the reception she designed to give him, she came from the
castle, smiling a greeting.
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