Conversing easily with Harold, and well watching him while he conversed, the Duke led his guest into a private chamber in the third floor [191] of the castle, and in that chamber were Haco and Wolnoth.
“This, I trust, is no surprise to you,” said the Duke, smiling; “and now I shall but mar your commune.” So saying, he left the room, and Wolnoth rushed to his brother’s arms, while Haco, more timidly, drew near and touched the Earl’s robe.
As soon as the first joy of the meeting was over, the Earl said to Haco, whom he had drawn to his breast with an embrace as fond as that bestowed on Wolnoth:
“Remembering thee a boy, I came to say to thee, ‘Be my son;’ but seeing thee a man, I change the prayer;—supply thy father’s place, and be my brother! And thou, Wolnoth, hast thou kept thy word to me? Norman is thy garb, in truth; is thy heart still English?”
“Hist!” whispered Haco; “hist! We have a proverb, that walls have ears.”
“But Norman walls can hardly understand our broad Saxon of Kent, I trust,” said Harold, smiling, though with a shade on his brow.
“True; continue to speak Saxon,” said Haco, “and we are safe.”
“Safe!” echoed Harold.
“Haco’s fears are childish, my brother,” said Wolnoth, “and he wrongs the Duke.”
“Not the Duke, but the policy which surrounds him like an atmosphere,” exclaimed Haco. “Oh, Harold, generous indeed wert thou to come hither for thy kinsfolk—generous! But for England’s weal, better that we had rotted out our lives in exile, ere thou, hope and prop of England, set foot in these webs of wile.”