sympathy.

"O father," he cried; "neglect not longer to make your peace with a
long-suffering God; even in this eleventh hour He will not reject the
penitent."

He was interrupted by the entrance of Edmund, his half-brother, whom
he feared, because he could not understand so different a nature.

"Our father has long pined for you," he said, in a timid voice; "I
fear you are too late, and that he will hardly know you."

"I have ridden from Aescendune day and night since the news of his
danger was brought me.

"Father," he said, as he bent over the bed, "do you not know me?"

The dying man raised himself up and looked him full in the face, and a
look of recognition came slowly.

"Edmund!" he said, "I am so glad, you will protect me; take your
battle-axe, you are strong. Sigeferth and Morcar, whom Edric slew at
Oxford, have been here, and they said they would come back and drag me
with them to some judgment seat; now take thine axe, Edmund, my son,
and slay them when they enter; they want killing again."

A look of indescribable pain passed over the features of Edmund.

The door opened, and Edward left the room after a conference with the
physician, who sat in a corner of the room compounding drugs at a
small table; a few minutes passed in silence, when he returned and
held the door open for the bishop of London, who entered, bearing the
viaticum, as the last communion of the sick was then called, and
attended by an acolyte, who bore a lighted taper before him and
carried a bell.

The king rose up in his bed, glared fixedly at the prelate, and then
shrieked aloud:

"St. Brice! St. Brice! art thou come again? What dost thou glare at me
for? 'Twas not I who defiled thy festival with blood. It was Edric,
Edric! Why does he not come to answer for his own sin?"

"If he did, I would brain him," muttered Edmund.

"There! do not glare upon me. Hast thou brought me the blood of the
victims to drink? Ah! there is Gunhilda. What right hast thou to
complain if I slew thee, which I did not, at least not with my own
hands: thy brother Sweyn has slain thousands. I did not at least kill
my father; I have only disgraced his name, as you will say.

"O Edmund! Edmund! protect me."

"My son," said the bishop, in a deep calm voice, which seemed to still
the ravings of the king, "think of thy sins, repent, confess; the
Church hath power to loose in her Lord's name, Who came to save
sinners."

"Yes, father, heed him," said E