Harold's visits, that, on entrance, the Earl's eye sought first the stern
face of the Vala--she wondered not why those two conversed in whispers
together, or stood so often at moonlight by the Runic grave. Alone, of
all womankind, she felt that Harold loved her, that that love had braved
time, absence, change, and hope deferred; and she knew not that what love
has most to dread in the wild heart of aspiring man, is not persons, but
things,--is not things, but their symbols.

So weeks and months rolled on, and Duke William returned no answer to the
demands for his hostages. And Harold's heart smote him, that he
neglected his brother's prayer and his mother's accusing tears.

Now Githa, since the death of her husband, had lived in seclusion and
apart from town; and one day Harold was surprised by her unexpected
arrival at the large timbered house in London, which had passed to his
possession. As she abruptly entered the room in which he sate, he sprang
forward to welcome and embrace her; but she waved him back with a grave
and mournful gesture, and sinking on one knee, she said thus:

"See, the mother is a suppliant to the son for the son. No, Harold,
no--I will not rise till thou hast heard me. For years, long and lonely,
have I lingered and pined,--long years! Will my boy know his mother
again? Thou hast said to me, 'Wait till the messenger returns.' I have
waited. Thou hast said, 'This time the Count cannot resist the demand of
the King.' I bowed my head and submitted to thee as I had done to Godwin
my lord. And I have not till now claimed thy promise; for I allowed thy
country, thy King, and thy fame to have claims more strong than a mother.
Now I tarry no more; now no more will I be amused and deceived. Thine
hours are thine own--free thy coming and thy going. Harold, I claim
thine oath. Harold, I touch thy right hand. Harold, I remind thee of
thy troth and thy plight, to cross the seas thyself, and restore the
child to the mother."

"Oh, rise, rise!" exclaimed Harold, deeply moved. "Patient hast thou
been, O my mother, and now I will linger no more, nor hearken to other
voice than your own. I will see the King this day, and ask his leave to
cross the sea to Duke William."

Then Githa rose, and fell on the Earl's breast weeping.

CHAPTER IV.

It so chanced, while this interview took place between Githa and the
Earl, that Gurth, hawking in the woodlands round Hilda's house, turned
aside t