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iton, the cheer of the board and the shelter of the roof were afforded with a hand equally unselfish and indiscriminate; and the doors of the more wealthy and munificent might be almost literally said to stand open from morn to eve. As Harold followed the Vala across the vast atrium, his face was recognised, and a shout of enthusiastic welcome greeted the popular Earl. The only voices that did not swell that cry, were those of three monks from a neighbouring convent, who choose to wink at the supposed practices of the Morthwyrtha [97], from the affection they bore to her ale and mead, and the gratitude they felt for her ample gifts to their convent. "One of the wicked House, brother," whispered the monk. "Yea; mockers and scorners are Godwin and his lewd sons," answered the monk. And all three sighed and scowled, as the door closed on the hostess and her stately guest. Two tall and not ungraceful lamps lighted the same chamber in which Hilda was first presented to the reader. The handmaids were still at their spindles, and the white web nimbly shot as the mistress entered. She paused, and her brow knit, as she eyed the work. "But three parts done?" she said, "weave fast, and weave strong." Harold, not heeding the maids or their task, gazed inquiringly round, and from a nook near the window, Edith sprang forward with a joyous cry, and a face all glowing with delight--sprang forward, as if to the arms of a brother; but, within a step or so of that noble guest, she stopped short, and her eyes fell to the ground. Harold held his breath in admiring silence. The child he had loved from her cradle stood before him as a woman. Even since we last saw her, in the interval between the spring and the autumn, the year had ripened the youth of the maiden, as it had mellowed the fruits of the earth; and her cheek was rosy with the celestial blush, and her form rounded to the nameless grace, which say that infancy is no more. He advanced and took her hand, but for the first time in his life in their greetings, he neither gave nor received the kiss. "You are no child now, Edith," said he, involuntarily; "but still set apart, I pray you, some remains of the old childish love for Harold." Edith's charming lips smiled softly; she raised her eyes to his, and their innocent fondness spoke through happy tears. But few words passed in the short interval between Harold's entrance and his retirement to the chamber pre
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