earl after my own heart."




CHAPTER II.


On re-entering the room, Harold drew the large bolt across the door,
opened the case, and took forth the distained and tattered scroll:

"When this comes to thee, Harold, the brother of thy childish days
will sleep in the flesh, and be lost to men's judgment and earth's woe
in the spirit. I have knelt at the Tomb; but no dove hath come forth
from the cloud,--no stream of grace hath re-baptised the child of
wrath! They tell me now--monk and priest tell me--that I have atoned
all my sins; that the dread weregeld is paid; that I may enter the
world of men with a spirit free from the load, and a name redeemed
from the stain. Think so, O brother!--Bid my father (if he still
lives, the dear old man!) think so;--tell Githa to think it; and oh,
teach Haco, my son, to hold the belief as a truth! Harold, again I
commend to thee my son; be to him as a father! My death surely
releases him as a hostage. Let him not grow up in the court of the
stranger, in the land of our foes. Let his feet, in his youth, climb
the green holts of England;--let his eyes, resin dims them, drink the
blue of her skies! When this shall reach thee, thou in thy calm,
effortless strength, wilt be more great than Godwin our father. Power
came to him with travail and through toil, the geld of craft and of
force. Power is born to thee as strength to the strong man; it
gathers around thee as thou movest; it is not thine aim, it is thy