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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Hereward, the Last of the English"

But perhaps it was good for her that it
should seem true, for that moment; that she should be emptied of all
earthly things for once, if so she might be filled from above.
At last she went into the inner room to lie down and try to sleep. At her
feet, under the perch where Hereward's armor had hung, lay an open letter.
She picked it up, surprised at seeing such a thing there, and kneeling
down, held it eagerly to the wax candle which was on a spike at the bed's
head.
She knew the handwriting in a moment. It was Alftruda's.
This, then, was why Hereward had been so strangely hurried. He must have
had that letter, and dropped it.
Her eye and mind took it all in, in one instant, as the lightning flash
reveals a whole landscape. And then her mind became as dark as that
landscape, when the flash is past.
It congratulated Hereward on having shaken himself free from the
fascination of that sorceress. It said that all was settled with King
William. Hereward was to come to Winchester. She had the King's writ for
his safety ready to send to him. The King would receive him as his
liegeman. Alftruda would receive him as her husband. Archbishop Lanfranc
had made difficulties about the dissolution of the marriage with Torfrida:
but gold would do all things at Rome; and Lanfranc was her very good
friend, and a reasonable man,--and so forth.


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