itan."

"And the Witan rests with thee," exclaimed William sharply. "I ask but
for possibilities, man; I ask but all thine influence on my behalf; and
if it be less than I deem, mine is the loss. What dost thou resign? I
will not presume to menace thee; but thou wouldst indeed despise my
folly, if now, knowing my designs, I let thee forth--not to aid, but
betray them. I know thou lovest England, so do I. Thou deemest me a
foreigner; true, but the Norman and Dane are of precisely the same
origin. Thou, of the race of Canute, knowest how popular was the reign
of that King. Why should William's be less so? Canute had no right
whatsoever, save that of the sword. My right will be kinship to
Edward--Edward's wish in my favour--the consent through thee of the
Witan--the absence of all other worthy heir--my wife's clear descent from
Alfred, which, in my children, restore the Saxon line, through its purest
and noblest ancestry, to the throne. Think over all this, and then wilt
thou tell me that I merit not this crown?" Harold yet paused, and the
fiery Duke resumed:

"Are the terms I give not tempting eno' to my captive--to the son of the
great Godwin, who, no doubt falsely, but still by the popular voice of
all Europe, had power of life and death over my cousin Alfred and my
Norman knights? or dost thou thyself covet the English crown; and is it
to a rival that I have opened my heart?"

"Nay," said Harold in the crowning effort of his new and fatal lesson in
simulation. "Thou hast convinced me, Duke William: let it be as thou
sayest."

The Duke gave way to his joy by a loud exclamation, and then
recapitulated the articles of the engagement, to which Harold simply
bowed his head. Amicably then the Duke embraced the Earl, and the two
returned towards the tent.

While the steeds were brought forth, William took the opportunity to draw
Odo apart; and, after a short whispered conference, the prelate hastened
to his barb, and spurred fast to Bayeux in advance of the party. All
that day, and all that night, and all the next morn till noon, courtiers
and riders went abroad, north and south, east and west, to all the more
famous abbeys and churches in Normandy, and holy and awful was the spoil
with which they returned for the ceremony of the next day.

CHAPTER VII.

The stately mirth of the evening banquet seemed to Harold as the malign
revel of some demoniac orgy. He thought he read in every face the
exultati