ill? Franklyn ever favours Roger."
There was truth enough in the words to make Hugh very angry with thefeeling of having been treacherously dealt with, and of having no meansof righting himself. When, the next day, Roger went off to theCathedral, rightly or wrongly Wat and Hugh fancied there was an air oftriumph about him, which was infuriating. Hugh could not be spared, butWat vowed he would make out by one means or another what he wasintending to carve. He began by coming up to him as he stood at thefoot of the ladder choosing his chisel, and asking what was his subject.It took Wat rather aback when Roger stared full in his face andanswered, "Ivy."
"Ivy! What, the same as Hugh?"
"I know naught of Hugh."
"That thou didst then. Thou hast heard him speak of it a dozen times."
"I have better things to do than to listen to idle prentice talk."
"The master can witness that thou heardest."
"Let him--when he can!" said Roger, with a hard laugh.
"Now, out on thee for a false loon!" cried Wat.
He might have said more but that two of the chapter were close at hand,and he flung himself away with a heart full of rage, and betook himselfto his own corbel, on which he vented a good deal of force which hewould gladly have employed in pommelling Roger. And this having acalming effect, he came to the conclusion that it would be best for Hughto take no notice of the older man's perfidy. There was no proof thatRoger had stolen the design, there was nothing except honour to preventhis using the same foliage, and with Gervase ill, an accusation mightmeet with little attention, and perhaps harm Hugh more than Roger.
Wat groaned, and dug in his tool with a violence which it cost him nolittle trouble to repair.
Perhaps Hugh was helped to patience by the circumstances of Gervase'sillness. There was something so infinitely sad in this sudden check atthe time when all the master's hopes seemed to be on the point oftouching fulfilment, that such a disappointment as Hugh's must becomparatively trifling. He was young, he could wait. Besides, he wouldnot count it as a disappointment, it was only a delay. Elyas wasalready better, and probably in another week he would be free. Andmeanwhile, if his design had been filched, he would work out another--that he could do while in Gervase's room, and his hopes rose high. Hehad chosen the ivy because the master had counselled simple forms, buthe felt as if now, with this taken from him, he was free to try a higherflight, and he fell hopefully to work with all the glad consciousness ofpower.
Elyas was better, but his speech remained much affected, and as hisstrength returned, there were an evident restlessness and anxiety whichwere alarming. It became, indeed, clear that something weighed on hismind, and the leech showed more common sense than was usual with himwhen he pronounced that, unless the trouble could be removed, it mightgo hardly with his patient. Everybody, frightened out of their wits bythis prediction, tried their best to find out what was amiss. Prothasytried--with a patience which no one had seen in her before. Joantried--laying her pretty head fondly upon the poor useless right hand.Hugh tried--and sometimes they fancied that his efforts came nearest tothe hidden trouble, though never quite reaching it. Hugh spoke of theCathedral works, of how Franklyn, Roger, Wat, and two other men hadbegun, of how glad all would be when Elyas himself was able to be thereagain. And then, fancying that perhaps he feared lest another shouldtouch his corbel, he told him that the bishop himself had said it shouldwait for him even were all the others finished.
A feeble--so feeble as to be almost imperceptible--shake of the headmade Hugh impress this the more strongly, and then followed a painfuleffort to make them understand something, of which they could not gatherthe right meaning. It was terrible to Prothasy--almost more, indeed,than she could bear.
The bishop heard of this drawback, for the warden's anxiety and distresshad the worst effect upon his strength, and they began very much to fearthat if they were not removed they might lead to another attack moreserious than the last. He came himself to see Gervase with the hope offathoming the trouble; and at any rate his visit gave pleasure, for thesick man's eyes brightened as the bishop stood in the doorway anduttered the words of peace. They could even make out a murmur of "Thisis kind."
Bishop Bitton sat on the stool which Prothasy put for him, and sethimself to chat about all that was going on in the Cathedral. Then hesaid--
"We think there is something on thy mind, goodman, which thou canst notexplain, and which retards thy recovery. It may be that I can arrive atit, but do not try to speak. Here lies thy left hand. When thouwouldst say Ay, lift thy forefinger so, and for Nay, keep thy handstill. Now, first, is there something thou wouldst say?"
The finger was raised.
The good bishop nodded, proud of his ingenuity.
"Hath it aught to do with thy spiritual condition?"
No sign.
"Or thy worldly matters? Nay. Thy wife? Thy child? Any of thyrelations? Nay, to all. Then we will come to municipal matters. Dothanything there weigh on thee? Still nay. Thy guild?"
The bishop persisted in a string of questions which brought no response,before arriving at the subject of the Cathedral, which in his own mindhe doubted not was where the trouble lay. Indeed, his first question asto whether it were not so, brought the lifted finger, and a hopefulgleam in the eyes. Only Prothasy was in the room, Hugh having gone downto the yard.
But, try as he might, the bishop found his task very difficult. Theynarrowed the matter at last to the corbel, but Elyas got restless andirritable with making efforts to speak and explain himself, and thebishop laid his hand finally upon his arm, saying kindly--
"Have patience. We shall reach it in time. Thou dost but fever thyselfwith vain struggles. Hearken. I have assured thee that we will waitmonths, ay, years if thou wilt, till God gives back thy strength. Isthat what thou desirest?"
No sign.
"Nay?" repeated the bishop, in some surprise. He paused, and then bentforward. "Wouldst thou then have another take the work? Ay? And carryout thy designs? Ay, again. Goodman, were that not a pity? A littlepatience and thy strength may come back, the leech says--"
But his words died away before the look which the sick man turned onhim. He looked away to collect himself.
"If it must be so," he said at length, hesitatingly. "Goodwife, youunderstand it as I do? It is no doing of ours."
"Nay, my lord, it is clearly his wish," said Prothasy firmly.
"And now," Bishop Bitton continued, "we must know to whom thou wouldstconfide it. The other warden, John Hamlyn, ranks next to thee." But itwas evident that Gervase would have none of John Hamlyn.
"Walter Bennet?"
No.
"Well, it is natural thou wouldst keep it in thine own yard. WilliamFranklyn, thy head man?"
Still no.
The bishop pondered; named two other skilled workmen, and received noassent.
"Thou thinkest well of thy Roger? Nay, again!--Wat?--who remains,goodman? Thy prentice Hugh is too young."
But to the good bishop's amazement Elyas, looking eagerly at him,raised, not the finger only, but the whole hand.
"Hugh! Thou wouldst choose Hugh! Bethink thee that he is but aprentice, and when we gave him the work it was thought that thou wouldstadvise and help him."
Still there could be no doubt that this was the master's desire; Hughand none but Hugh was to carry out his design, and carve his corbel.The bishop shook his head doubtfully, but he could not gainsay Elyas;there was so much relief apparent in his face, and his lips moved as ifin thankfulness.
"It shall be as thou wilt," he said gravely.
He told Prothasy that she must use her judgment and send Hugh to hiswork when Elyas could spare him, and went away, doubtful, it must beowned, of his own wisdom in handing over one of the most prominent ofthe corbels to the youngest of the carvers.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
WILL ROGER SUCCEED?
Hugh's first feeling was one of bitter and intense disappointment. Heca
red not one jot about the position of the corbel, what he did care forwas the working out his own design, seeing that, as it were, spring intolife under his hand. It was a very different thing to carry out anotherman's, for, however good the execution might be, that could not equalthe joy of creation. He turned quite white when Prothasy told him,thinking the news should give him proud delight, but, curiously enough,Joan, who was in the room, child as she was, understood his feelingsbetter, and the moment her mother left slipped her hand in his.
"Alack, alack, poor Hugh!"
"There go all my hopes," he groaned.
"But it is for father," she urged. "Bethink you how grievous it is forhim to have no hand in what he longed for."
"I think of my father, too. I wanted to credit his name."
"Nay," said Joan softly, "if he
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