It was now Edwy's turn to blush and look confused.

"I wish I had the power of teasing you, Elfric. But if you have a secret
you keep it close. Remember old Dunstan vanishes on the fifteenth, and
the same evening, oh, won't it be joyful? But I am tired of work. Come
and let us take some fresh air."

They left the room, when the curtain parted, and the astonished
countenance of Father Benedict, who had been quietly reading in the deep
embrasure of the window, presently appeared. He looked like a man at
whose feet a thunderbolt had fallen, and hastily left the room.

The week passed rapidly away, and at its close Dunstan took his
departure. A train of horses awaited him, and he bade the young princes
Edwy and Edgar farewell, with the usual charge to work diligently and
obey Father Benedict.

That same night, after the clerks had sung compline in the chapel, and
the chamberlain had seen to the safety of the palace, Edwy came quietly
to the room of his page, and the two left as on the first occasion.
Redwald attended them, and just before the boat left the bank he spoke a
word of caution.

"I fear," he said, in a low tone, "that all is not quite right. That old
fox Dunstan is up to some trick; he has not really left town."

"Perhaps he has a similar appointment tonight," said Edwy,
sarcastically. "I should keep mine though he and all his monks from
Glastonbury barred the way."