‘Oh, yes! nurse makes me say them when I lie down and when I get up—Credo and Pater. She says the old parson used to teach them our own tongue for them, but she has well-nigh forgot. Can you tell me, holy man?’
‘That will I, with all my heart,’ responded the hermit, laying his long delicate hand on Hal’s head. ‘Blessed be He who has sent thee to me!’
The boy sat at the hermit’s feet, listening with the eagerness of one whose soul and mind had alike been under starvation, and how time went neither knew till there was a rustling and a step. Watch sprang up, but in another moment Simon Bunce, cap in hand, stood before the hut, beginning with ‘How now, sir?’
The hermit raised his hand, as if to make a sign, saying, ‘Thou seest I have a guest, good friend.’
Bunce started back with ‘Oh! the young Lord! Sworn to silence, I trust! I bade him not meddle with you, sir.’
‘It was against his will, I trow,’ said the hermit. ‘He fell over the rock by the waterfall, but since he is here, I will answer for him that he does no hurt by word or deed!’
‘Never, holy sir!’ eagerly exclaimed Hal. ‘Hob Hogward knows that I can keep my mouth shut. And may I come again?’
Simon was shaking his head, but the hermit took on him to say, ‘Gladly will I welcome thee, my fair child, whensoever thou canst find thy way to the weary old anchoret! Go thy way now! Or hast thou lost it?’
‘No, sir; I ken the woodland and can soon be at home,’ replied Hal; then, putting a knee to the ground, ‘May I have your blessing, holy man?’
‘Alack, I told thee I am no priest,’ said the hermit; ‘but for such as I am, I bless thee with all my soul, thou fatherless lad,’ and he laid his hand on the young lad’s wondering brow, then bade him begone, since Simon and himself had much to say to one another.