And as the stars rose, Harold and Edith joined them. Harold’s face was serene in the starlight, for the pure soul of his betrothed had breathed peace into his own; and, in his willing superstition, he felt as if, now restored to his guardian angel, the dead men’s bones had released their unhallowed hold.
But suddenly Edith’s hand trembled in his, and her form shuddered.—Her eyes were fixed upon those of Haco.
“Forgive me, young kinsman, that I forget thee so long,” said the Earl. “This is my brother’s son, Edith; thou hast not, that I remember, seen him before?”
“Yes, yes;” said Edith, falteringly.
“When, and where?”
Edith’s soul answered the question, “In a dream;” but her lips were silent.
And Haco, rising, took her by the hand, while the Earl turned to his sister—that sister whom he was pledged to send to the Norman court; and Thyra said, plaintively:
“Take me in thine arms, Harold, and wrap thy mantle round me, for the air is cold.”
The Earl lifted the child to his breast, and gazed on her cheek long and wistfully; then questioning her tenderly, he took her within the house; and Edith followed with Haco.
“Is Hilda within?” asked the son of Sweyn.