‘I trust to be no churl in heart, if I be in manners,’ said Hal, looking down on his small clinging mother.
‘Only be cautious, my son. Remember that you are the last of the name, and it is your part to bring it to honour.’
‘Which I shall scarce do by being cautious,’ he said, with something of a smile. ‘That was not my father’s way.’
‘Ah me! You have his spirit in you, and how did it end?’
‘My Lord of Clifford,’ said a voice from the court, ‘you are waited for!’
‘And remember,’ cried his mother, with a last embrace, ‘there will be safety here whenever thou shalt need it.’
‘With God’s grace, I am more like to protect you and your husband,’ said the lad, bending for another kiss and hurrying away.
CHAPTER XIII. — FELLOW TRAVELLERS
And sickerlie she was of great disport,
And full pleasant and amiable of port;
Of small hounds had she that she fed
With roasted flesh and milk and wastel bread.
—CHAUCER.