marshals events and men, like the valour--it moulds the air into
substance, like the song. Bow thy heart to the Vala. Flowers bloom over
the grave of the dead. And the young plant soars high, when the king of
the woodland lies low!"

CHAPTER VI.

The sun rose, and the stairs and passages without were filled with the
crowds that pressed to hear news of the Earl's health. The doors stood
open, and Gurth led in the multitude to look their last on the hero of
council and camp, who had restored with strong hand and wise brain the
race of Cerdic to the Saxon throne. Harold stood by the bed-head silent,
and tears were shed and sobs were heard. And many a thegn who had before
half believed in the guilt of Godwin as the murderer of Alfred, whispered
in gasps to his neighbour:

"There is no weregeld for manslaying on the head of him who smiles so in
death on his old comrades in life!"

Last of all lingered Leofric, the great Earl of Mercia; and when the rest
had departed, he took the pale hand, that lay heavy on the coverlid, in
his own, and said:

"Old foe, often stood we in Witan and field against each other; but few
are the friends for whom Leofric would mourn as he mourns for thee.
Peace to thy soul! Whatever its sins, England should judge thee mildly,
for England beat in each pulse of thy heart, and with thy greatness was
her own!"

Then Harold stole round the bed, and put his arms round Leofric's neck,
and embraced him. The good old Earl was touched, and he laid his
tremulous hands on Harold's brown locks and blessed him.

"Harold," he said, "thou succeedest to thy father's power: let thy
father's foes be thy friends. Wake from thy grief, for thy country now
demands thee,--the honour of thy House, and the memory of the dead. Many
even now plot against thee and thine. Seek the King, demand as thy right
thy father's earldom, and Leofric will back thy claim in the Witan."

Harold pressed Leofric's hand, and raising it to his lips replied: "Be
our Houses at peace henceforth and for ever."

Tostig's vanity indeed misled him, when he dreamed that any combination
of Godwin's party could meditate supporting his claims against the
popular Harold--nor less did the monks deceive themselves, when they
supposed that, with Godwin's death, the power of his family would fall.

There was more than even the unanimity of the chiefs of the Witan, in
favour of Harold; there was that universal noiseless impression
th