Alone, and unarmed, save my ateghar, I would crave a night's rest under thy roof; and"-- he hesitated, and as light blush came over his cheek--"and I would fain see if your grandchild is as fair as when I last looked on her blue eyes, that then wept for Harold ere he went into exile." "Her tears are not at her command, nor her smiles," said the Vala, solemnly; "her tears flow from the fount of thy sorrows, and her smiles are the beams from thy joys.

For know, O Harold! that Edith is thine earthly Fylgia; thy fate and her fate are as one.

And vainly as man would escape from his shadow, would soul wrench itself from the soul that Skulda hath linked to his doom." Harold made no reply; but his step, habitually slow, grew more quick and light, and this time his reason found no fault with the oracles of the Vala..