nd."

The Prophetess smiled loftily.

"And what thinkest thou, O self-dependent! what thinkest thou is the fate
which thy brain and thine arm shall will?"

"The fate they have won already. I see no Beyond. The fate of a man
sworn to guard his country, love justice, and do right."

The moon shone full on the heroic face of the young Earl as he spoke; and
on its surface there seemed nought to belie the noble words. Yet, the
Prophetess, gazing earnestly on that fair countenance, said, in a
whisper, that, despite a reason singularly sceptical for the age in which
it had been cultured, thrilled to the Saxon's heart, "Under that calm eye
sleeps the soul of thy sire, and beneath that brow, so haught and so
pure, works the genius that crowned the kings of the north in the lineage
of thy mother the Dane."

"Peace!" said Harold, almost fiercely; then, as if ashamed of the
weakness of his momentary irritation, he added, with a faint smile, "Let
us not talk of these matters while my heart is still sad and away from
the thoughts of the world, with my brother the lonely outlaw. Night is on
us, and the ways are yet unsafe; for the king's troops, disbanded in
haste, were made up of many who turn to robbers in peace. Alone, and
unarmed, save my ateghar, I would crave a night's rest under thy roof;
and"--he hesitated, and as light blush came over his cheek--"and I would
fain see if your grandchild is as fair as when I last looked on her blue
eyes, that then wept for Harold ere he went into exile."

"Her tears are not at her command, nor her smiles," said the Vala,
solemnly; "her tears flow from the fount of thy sorrows, and her smiles
are the beams from thy joys. For know, O Harold! that Edith is thine
earthly Fylgia; thy fate and her fate are as one. And vainly as man
would escape from his shadow, would soul wrench itself from the soul that
Skulda hath linked to his doom."

Harold made no reply; but his step, habitually slow, grew more quick and
light, and this time his reason found no fault with the oracles of the
Vala.

CHAPTER V.

As Hilda entered the hall, the various idlers accustomed to feed at her
cost were about retiring, some to their homes in the vicinity, some,
appertaining to the household, to the dormitories in the old Roman villa.

It was not the habit of the Saxon noble, as it was of the Norman, to put
hospitality to profit, by regarding his guests in the light of armed
retainers. Liberal as the Br