who--mightily it must be ownedagainst her inclination--wrapped him in woollen, and though she couldnever be brought to take him on her lap, saw that he was not neglected.
But one day, when Hugh was really better and less feverish, though stillin pain which made him fretful and peevish, he opened his eyes upon anew sight. A little girl, with golden hair and brown eyes, stood abouta yard away from the crib, gazing with deep interest and her finger inher mouth, from him to Agrippa, who sat on the bed in his scarlet coat,and stared back at her. For a short time all three were silent,contemplating each other curiously. It was Joan who broke the silence,pointing to Agrippa.
"Doth he bite?"
Hitherto everyone who came near Hugh had asked how he felt or what theycould do. Here was a change indeed!
"No." Then with an effort--"You may stroke him, mistress."
Upon this invitation Joan advanced, stretching out two rosy fingers.But they hesitated so long on the way that Hugh put forth his own wastedlittle hand, and conducted them to Agrippa's head. Joan colouredcrimson but would not show fear.
When she had got over the wonder of this courageous deed, she began tosmile, bringing two dimples into her cheeks, and dancing a little up anddown for joy.
"Art thou the new boy? Why doesn't thou get up?"
This was too much; besides, the pain of stretching his hand had hold ofhim. Hugh shut his eyes and groaned. The next thing he felt was adreadful shake of the crib, and a soft kiss planted upon his closed eye.
"Poor boy! Make haste and get well!"
She trotted away, but the next day appeared again, and her mother,arriving in haste, found to her horror Joan sitting upon the edge of thecrib, with Agrippa in her arms. Prothasy would have snatched him fromher, but Joan put up her small hand lest she should come too near. Shewas actually trembling with ecstasy.
"He doesn't bite, and he likes me. Isn't he beautiful?"
Agrippa had conquered.
After this Hugh began to improve more rapidly Joan's visits broughtsomething into his life which had been wanting before, and he could notbut be conscious of the kindness with which he had been nursed and caredfor, when he might have expected very different treatment. He stillwatched Mistress Prothasy with anxiety, but his eyes followed Gervasewith devotion which touched the good warden's heart. Nothing had beensaid about Hugh's flight during the worst part of his illness, but oneafternoon in December, when Elyas had come in from consultation with thebishop at the Cathedral, he sat down on the boy's bed.
"We shall have thee up and about by Christmas," he said, cheerfully;"out by the New Year, and at work by Twelfth Day."
"Ay, master," said Hugh faintly.
Elyas turned and looked at him. "It were best for thee," he said, "totell me what ailed thee that day. I have heard nothing from thee."
In a faltering voice Hugh would have murmured something scarcedistinguishable, but Gervase made him put all into words. It is oftenhard so to describe one's wrongs; things which had seemed of infiniteimportance lose dignity in the process, and there is an uncomfortableconviction that our hearers are not so greatly impressed as we desired.After all, except the threat about Agrippa, it looked trifling seen froma distance, and even for Agrippa--
"Hadst thou met with so much unkindness here, that thou couldst nottrust us to do what was best?" asked Gervase gravely.
"I thought--" began Hugh, and stopped.
"And how came you idle?" Elyas demanded more sternly.
"He ever gave me such foolish work! He would not hearken when I said Icould do better!" burst out Hugh. "Master, only let me try, and youwill see."
"Perhaps," returned Elyas. "But there are things that I value more, ay,and thy father would have valued more, than fair carving. Thou hast gotthy life to shape, Hugh, rough stone to hew and carve into such a templeas the Master loves. All the best work that we can do with our tools isbut a type of this. And what sort of carving was this rebellion ofthine?"
He would say no more, being one of those who leave their words to sinkin. But after, when he came up to see the boy, he would choose for histalk tales of men who had become great through mastery of themselves.And when he found how Hugh's thoughts ran upon King Edward, he spoke ofhim, and how he had tamed that strong nature of his which might have ledhim into tyrannical acts, so that at whatever cost to himself hefollowed faithfully that which was right and just. And he told thestory of how once, when he had been unjust towards an attendant, hepunished his own hasty temper by fining himself twenty marks.
"This it is which makes him great," added Elyas.
"And thou hast seen and spoken with him? The more need to follow him."
"Saw you ever the king, goodman?"
"Ay, truly; ten or eleven years ago he and the queen held Parliamenthere at Christmas. Great doings were there, and it was then the bishopgot leave to fence the close with walls. I like them not myself, theyshut out the fair view of the western front; but after the precentorsmurder the chapter sought greater security. There is talk of the kingcoming again next month. If he does I warrant he will bring a soreheart, remembering who was with him last time."
"And the queen was fair, goodman?"
"Fair and sweet beyond telling. All that looked at her loved her."
Hugh never got worse reproach for his conduct, but by listening to thesetales of Master Gervase's with talk of men who took not their own wildwills, but a high ideal of duty for their standard, he grew to beashamed of it, and to have a longing for the time when he might go towork again in a different spirit. And he changed in his conduct to Wat,who was ever full of awkward good-will.
It was much as Elyas had foretold. By Christmas time Hugh was up,though too feeble to enter into all the merry-making and holiday-keepingof the time; nor, indeed, could he so much as go out with the otherswhen, at two of the morning, the moonlight shining, the rime hanging tothe elms and just whitening the roof of the Cathedral, they all setforth for the parish church of St Martin's. Wat came back blowing hisblue fingers and stamping on the ground, but radiant with the promisethat next year in the mumming he should be St George himself.
"Rob the ostler says so, and he knows."
"Thou wast the hobby-horse last night," said Hugh with a laugh.
"Ay, and I am weary of the hobby-horse, of prancing up and down, andbeing hit with no chance of hitting back again. But, St George! whatwouldst thou give, Hugh, to be a knight all in shining armour, and toslay the Dragon?"
New Year's Eve was the great day for gifts; Joan had a number of toysand sweetmeats, and Hugh gave her a kind of cup and ball, which he hadmanaged to carve for her, though with trembling fingers, after therecollection of one which had been shown to his father by a merchanttravelling from China, or Cathay, as it was then called. It was adainty little toy, and Gervase examined it closely, feeling that Hughhad some reason for fretting against the monotonous work to whichFranklyn condemned him. But Elyas had no thought of interfering. Hebelieved it would be wholesome discipline for the boy to have to workhis way upward by force of perseverance and obedience, each step sotaken would be a double gain; he had time enough before him, and shouldprove his powers to Franklyn by his own efforts. Meanwhile he kept himwith him a good deal, and took him one day to the Cathedral to see theprogress which had been made.
Hugh could not rest without going everywhere, and then was so tiredthat, while Gervase went off to inspect some of the masons' work, hecurled himself up upon one of the misereres and fell asleep. He awokewith a start to find himself looked down upon by a kindly-faced man inan ecclesiastical dress, though this last was not of the sumptuouscharacter at that time worn. Other ecclesiastics were moving about thebuilding. Hugh started to his feet, but the priest, whoever he was,seemed in no way displeased at his presence.
"Thou art a pale-faced urchin," he said good-humouredly; "have thyfriends left thee behind and forgotten thee?"
"Nay, reverend sir," said Hugh, "I am Master Gervase's apprentice."
"I alw
ays heard he was an easy man, and so he suffers his apprentices tosleep in working hours? But it is he for whom we were searching, and ifthou wilt go forth and find him for me, thou mayest earn a silverpenny."
Hugh had some little difficulty in discovering Elyas, who had climbed ascaffolding to examine the work close at hand. He hurried down when hehad heard Hugh's report, saying that it was doubtless the bishop, andbidding the boy follow him.
The three bishops who succeeded each other in the see of Exeter, Quivil,Bitton, and Stapledon, have each left their mark upon the Cathedral.Quivil's share was the most important; it was he who by the insertion oflarge windows formed the transepts, and to whom we owe the beautiful andunbroken line of vaulting. Bitton was only fifteen years at Exeter,
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