Often had he heard indirectly, that of late years Edward was said to see visions, and be rapt from himself into the world of spirit and shadow; and such, he now doubted not, was the strange paroxysm of which he was made the witness.
Edward's eyes were fixed on him, but evidently without recognising his presence; the King's hands were outstretched, and he cried aloud in a voice of sharp anguish: "Sanguelac, Sanguelac!--the Lake of Blood!--the waves spread, the waves redden! Mother of mercy--where is the ark ?--where the Ararat ?--Fly--fly--this way--this--" and he caught convulsive hold of William's arm.

"No! there the corpses are piled--high and higher--there the horse of the Apocalypse tramples the dead in their gore." In great horror, William took the King, now gasping on his breast, in his arms, and laid him on his bed, beneath its canopy of state, all blazoned with the martlets and cross of his insignia.

Slowly Edward came to himself, with heavy sighs; and when at length he sate up and looked round, it was with evident unconsciousness of what had passed across his haggard and wandering spirit, for he said, with his usual drowsy calmness: "Thanks, Guillaume, bien aime, for rousing me from unseasoned sleep.

How fares it with thee ?" "Nay, how with thee, dear friend and king?
thy dreams have been troubled." "Not so; I slept so heavily, methinks I could not have dreamed at all.
But thou art clad as for a journey--spur on thy heel, staff in thy hand!" "Long since, O dear host, I sent Odo to tell thee of the ill news from Normandy that compelled me to depart." "I remember--I remember me now," said Edward, passing his pale womanly fingers over his forehead.

"The heathen rage against thee.