"He suffered little pain, my master, less than you are suffering now; and 'twas said if he lived he would ever be a helpless cripple, so we may not wish him back," he moaned.
"Oh, Jack, Jack! my brother Jack! And is he really dead?" and, overcome with grief, the lad burst into tears in spite of his twenty years and the honours he had gained at the University. But he and the old family retainer were by themselves, and by degrees he learned all about his brother's accident, how he was thrown from his horse while riding after a gang of thieves that had lately infested the neighbouring woods, and how his young wife had come to the hall as soon as she heard of her husband's death.
"My mother will comfort her," said the young fellow, "but who will comfort my father?"
"Aye, there is none can do that but you, my master, and therefore am I come hither to seek ye. It was my lady's last command, 'Bring the lad back with you, Roger,' she said; and how shall I tell her of this fray, and that you cannot come?"
"I must go," said Miles; "my wounds are nought, and—"
But the new doctor arrived at this point, and the steward told him at once how needful it was that Miles should set off early the next morning on his journey to Woodstock.
"It is not many miles," commented the doctor, and then he proceeded to examine his leg, which was much swollen, and would keep him in bed a month at least, the doctor said.
"Very well; I will stay in bed a month when I reach Woodstock, but I cannot stay here another day. But, as I seem to be somewhat chickenhearted with this pain, I will ask you to give me some elixir that shall keep me steady on my horse until I reach Paton Hall, and then I care not what they do with me," said Miles.
The doctor tried persuasions to turn him from his purpose, and then tried to frighten him into obeying his directions, but it was all of no use, and at last it was arranged that some of his friends should come and see him off the next morning, and make what arrangements they could with the saddle and stirrups for his comfort during the journey. Two of them offered to stay with him through the night, and after some persuasion the old reeve agreed to go to an inn to secure a night's rest for himself, and look after the two servants he had brought with him.
Miles and his friends slept but little during the night. He was going to take his Greek New Testament home with him, and so his two visitors sat up the greater part of the night reading it while they had the chance, for they were only poor scholars, and unable to buy a copy for themselves. Miles was going to leave his room and the rest of his books in the charge of these two friends for the present, but he could not spare his precious Testament, though he was leaving them the works of Jerome translated by Erasmus, which was in itself a most notable book, and, being dedicated to Warham, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and greatly admired and recommended by him to other scholars, could not be objected to by anybody.