measure of his deceit, how he had won her from the king, led by his
overpowering love, how he had kept her from the king's eyes, and how
Edgar now, filled, he feared, with suspicion, was on his way to the
castle to see her for himself.

In moving accents the wretched man appealed to her, if she had any
regard for his honor and his life, to conceal from the king that fatal
beauty which had lured him from his duty to his friend and monarch, and
led him into endless falsehoods. He had but his love to offer as a
warrant for his double faithlessness, and implored Elfrida, as she
returned his affection, to lend her aid to his exculpation. If she loved
him as she seemed, she would put on her homliest attire, employ the
devices of the toilette to hide her fatal beauty, and assume an awkward
and rustic tone and manner, that the king might be deceived.

Elfrida heard him in silence, her face scarcely concealing the
indignation which burned in her soul on learning the artifice by which
she had been robbed of a crown. In the end, however, she seemed moved by
his entreaties and softened by his love, and promised to comply with his
wishes and do her utmost to conceal her charms.

Gratified with this compliance, and full of hope that all would yet be
safe, Athelwold completed his preparations for the reception of the
king, and met him on his appearance with every show of honor and
respect. Edgar seemed pleased by his reception, entered the castle, but
was not long there before he asked to see its lady, saying merrily that
she had been the loadstone that had drawn him thither, and that he was
eager to behold her charming face.

"I fear I have little of beauty and grace to show you," answered