she was broken-spirited and despondent. It seemed as if
her youth and life had gone from her, and the day had come in which she
said, "There is no pleasure."

Never had he seen her thus; and, deeply moved as well as keenly stung, he
rose at length to depart; her hand lay passive in his parting clasp, and
a slight shiver went over her frame.

"Farewell, Edith; when I return from Windshore, I shall be at my old home
yonder, and we shall meet again."

Edith's lips murmured inaudibly, and she bent her eyes to the ground.

Slowly Harold regained his steed, and as he rode on, he looked behind and
waved oft his hand. But Edith sate motionless, her eyes still on the
ground, and he saw not the tears that fell from them fast and burning;
nor heard he the low voice that groaned amidst the heathen ruins, "Mary,
sweet mother, shelter me from my own heart!"

The sun had set before Harold gained the long and spacious abode of his
father. All around it lay the roofs and huts of the great Earl's special
tradesmen, for even his goldsmith was but his freed ceorl. The house
itself stretched far from the Thames inland, with several low courts
built only of timber, rugged and shapeless, but filled with bold men,
then the great furniture of a noble's halls.

Amidst the shouts of hundreds, eager to hold his stirrup, the Earl
dismounted, passed the swarming hall, and entered the room, in which he
found Hilda and Githa, and Godwin, who had preceded his entry but a few
minutes.

In the beautiful reverence of son to father, which made one of the
loveliest features of the Saxon character [126] (as the frequent want of
it makes the most hateful of the Norman vices), the all-powerful Harold
bowed his knee to the old Earl, who placed his hand on his head in
benediction, and then kissed him on the cheek and brow.

"Thy kiss, too, dear mother," said the younger Earl; and Githa's embrace,
if more cordial than her lord's, was not, perhaps, more fond.

"Greet Hilda, my son," said Godwin, "she hath brought me a gift, and she
hath tarried to place it under thy special care. Thou alone must heed
the treasure, and open the casket. But when and where, my kinswoman?"

"On the sixth day after thy coming to the King's hall," answered Hilda,
not returning the smile with which Godwin spoke,--"on the sixth day,
Harold, open the chest, and take out the robe which hath been spun in the
house of Hilda for Godwin the Earl. And now, Godwin, I have clasped