the other Alred; while Stigand stood near--the holy rood in his hand--
and the abbot of the new monastery of Westminster by Stigand's side;
and all the greatest thegns, including Morcar and Edwin, Gurth and
Leofwine, all the more illustrious prelates and abbots, stood also on
the dais.

In the lower end of the hall, the King's physician was warming a
cordial over the brazier, and some of the subordinate officers of the
household were standing in the niches of the deep-set windows; and
they--not great eno' for other emotions than those of human love for
their kindly lord--they wept.

The King, who had already undergone the last holy offices of the
Church, was lying quite quiet, his eyes half closed, breathing low but
regularly. He had been speechless the two preceding days; on this he
had uttered a few words, which showed returning consciousness. His
hand, reclined on the coverlid, was clasped in his wife's who was
praying fervently. Something in the touch of her hand, or the sound
of her murmur, stirred the King from the growing lethargy, and his
eyes opening, fixed on the kneeling lady.

"Ah?" said he faintly, "ever good, ever meek! Think not I did not
love thee; hearts will be read yonder; we shall have our guerdon."

The lady looked up through her streaming tears. Edward released his
hand, and laid it on her head as in benediction. Then motioning to
the abbot of Westminster, he drew from his finger the ring which the
palmer had brought to him [217], and murmured scarce audibly:

"Be this kept in the House of St. Peter in memory of me!"