plied Harold, coldly.

The son of Sweyn began to remonstrate, but the Earl cut him short.

"If the Norman say that he has been deceived in Harold, never so shall
say the men of England. Leave me. I know not why, Haco, but in thy
presence, at times, there is a glamour as strong as in the spells of
Hilda. Go, dear boy; the fault is not in thee, but in the superstitious
infirmities of a man who hath once lowered, or, it may be, too highly
strained, his reason to the things of a haggard fancy. Go! and send to me
my brother Gurth. I would have him alone of my House present at this
solemn crisis of its fate."

Haco bowed his head, and went.

In a few moments more, Gurth came in. To this pure and spotless spirit
Harold had already related the events of his unhappy visit to the Norman;
and he felt, as the young chief pressed his hand, and looked on him with
his clear and loving eyes, as if Honour made palpable stood by his side.

Six of the ecclesiastics, most eminent for Church learning,--small as was
that which they could boast, compared with the scholars of Normandy and
the Papal States, but at least more intelligent and more free from mere
formal monasticism than most of their Saxon contemporaries,--and six of
the chiefs most renowned for experience in war or council, selected under
the sagacious promptings of Alred, accompanied that prelate to the
presence of the Earl.

"Close, thou! close! close! Gurth," whispered Harold "for this is a
confession against man's pride, and sorely doth it shame;--so that I
would have thy bold sinless heart beating near to mine."

Then, leaning his arm upon his brother's shoulder, and in a voice, the
first tones of which, as betraying earnest emotion, irresistibly chained
and affected his noble audience, Harold began his tale.

Various were the emotions, though all more akin to terror than
repugnance, with which the listeners heard the Earl's plain and candid
recital.

Among the lay-chiefs the impression made by the compelled oath was
comparatively slight: for it was the worst vice of the Saxon laws, to
entangle all charges, from the smallest to the greatest, in a reckless
multiplicity of oaths [215], to the grievous loosening of the bonds of
truth: and oaths then had become almost as much mere matter of legal
form, as certain oaths--bad relic of those times!--still existing in our
parliamentary and collegiate proceedings, are deemed by men, not
otherwise dishonourable, even no