columns 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