the woodland.

He sprang from his horse and approached her.

"Hilda," said he, in a low but firm voice, "thou hast often told me
that the dead can advise the living. Raise thou the Scin-laeca of the
hero of old--raise the Ghost, which mine eye, or my fancy, beheld
before, vast and dim by the silent bautastein, and I will stand by thy
side. Fain would I know if thou hast deceived me and thyself; or if,
in truth, to man's guidance Heaven doth vouchsafe saga and rede from
those who have passed into the secret shores of Eternity."

"The dead," answered Hilda, "will not reveal themselves to eyes
uninitiate save at their own will, uncompelled by charm and rune. To
me their forms can appear distinct through the airy flame; to me, duly
prepared by spells that purge the eye of the spirit, and loosen the
walls of the flesh. I cannot say that what I see in the trance and
the travail of my soul, thou also wilt behold; or even when the vision
hath passed from my sight, and the voice from my ear, only memories,
confused and dim, of what I saw and heard, remain to guide the waking
and common life. But thou shalt stand by my side while I invoke the
phantom, and hear and interpret the words which rush from my lips, and
the runes that take meaning from the sparks of the charmed fire. I
knew ere thou camest, by the darkness and trouble of Edith's soul,
that some shade from the Ash-tree of Life had fallen upon thine."

Then Harold related what had passed, and placed before Hilda the
doubts that beset him.

The Prophetess listened with earnest attention; but her mind, when not