of the fane, Edith saw the large shadow of a man cast over the
still sward. Presently into the space of the circle came Harold, her
beloved. His face was pale with grief yet recent; but, perhaps, more
than ever, dignity was in his step and command on his brow, for he felt
that now alone with him rested the might of Saxon England. And what
royal robe so invests with imperial majesty the form of a man as the
grave sense of power responsible, in an earnest soul?

"Thou comest," said Hilda, "in the hour I predicted; at the setting of
the sun and the rising of the star."

"Vala," said Harold, gloomily, "I will not oppose my sense to thy
prophecies; for who shall judge of that power of which he knows not the
elements? or despise the marvel of which he cannot detect the imposture?
But leave me, I pray thee, to walk in the broad light of the common day.
These hands are made to grapple with things palpable, and these eyes to
measure the forms that front my way. In my youth, I turned in despair or
disgust from the subtleties of the schoolmen, which split upon hairs the
brains of Lombard and Frank; in my busy and stirring manhood entangle me
not in the meshes which confuse all my reason, and sicken my waking
thoughts into dreams of awe. Mine be the straight path and the plain
goal!"

The Vala gazed on him with an earnest look, that partook of admiration,
and yet more of gloom; but she spoke not, and Harold resumed:

"Let the dead rest, Hilda,--proud names with glory on earth and shadows
escaped from our ken, submissive to mercy in heaven. A vast chasm have
my steps overleapt since we met, O Hilda--sweet Edith; a vast chasm, but
a narrow grave." His voice faltered a moment, and again he renewed,--
"Thou weepest, Edith; ah, how thy tears console me! Hilda, hear me! I
love thy grandchild--loved her by irresistible instinct since her blue
eyes first smiled on mine. I loved her in her childhood, as in her
youth--in the blossom as in the flower. And thy grandchild loves me.
The laws of the Church proscribe our marriage, and therefore we parted;
but I feel, and thine Edith feels, that the love remains as strong in
absence: no other will be her wedded lord, no other my wedded wife.
Therefore, with heart made soft by sorrow, and, in my father's death,
sole lord of my fate, I return, and say to thee in her presence, 'Suffer
us to hope still!' The day may come when under some king less enthralled
than Edward by formal Church l