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 thine hand, and I have looked on thy brow, and my mission
is done, and I must wend homeward."