But the
frail vessel into which the unfortunate Atheling and his page had been
thrust, weathered the gale and, with her lonely tenant, Wilfrid, was
driven ashore at a place called Whitesande, on the coast of Picardy, in
France.
When Wilfrid landed, he was drenched through and through. He was
hungry, too, and sorrowful and weary. He knew not where he was, but he
failed not to return thanks to that gracious God who had preserved him
from the perils of the raging seas to which he had been so awfully
exposed, and whose merciful providence, he doubted not, would guide and
sustain him in the strange land whither he had been conducted.
Thus meekly, thus nobly, did the young page support himself under this
fresh trial. But when the remembrance of the unfortunate Atheling, his
royal master, came over him, his heart melted within him; he bowed his
face on his knees as he sat all lonely on the sea beach, and he wept
aloud, exclaiming--
"Oh, Edwin! royal Edwin! hadst thou patiently trusted in the mercy of
God thou slightest, notwithstanding thy late adversity, have lived to
wear the crown of thy father Edward.
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