“Fair and sweet beyond telling. All that looked at her loved her.”
Hugh never got worse reproach for his conduct, but by listening to these tales of Master Gervase’s with talk of men who took not their own wild wills, but a high ideal of duty for their standard, he grew to be ashamed of it, and to have a longing for the time when he might go to work 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-keeping of the time; nor, indeed, could he so much as go out with the others when, at two of the morning, the moonlight shining, the rime hanging to the elms and just whitening the roof of the Cathedral, they all set forth for the parish church of St. Martin’s. Wat came back blowing his blue fingers and stamping on the ground, but radiant with the promise that 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, and being hit with no chance of hitting back again. But, St. George! what wouldst thou give, Hugh, to be a knight all in shining armour, and to slay the Dragon?”
New Year’s Eve was the great day for gifts; Joan had a number of toys and sweetmeats, and Hugh gave her a kind of cup and ball, which he had managed to carve for her, though with trembling fingers, after the recollection of one which had been shown to his father by a merchant travelling from China, or Cathay, as it was then called. It was a dainty little toy, and Gervase examined it closely, feeling that Hugh had some reason for fretting against the monotonous work to which Franklyn condemned him. But Elyas had no thought of interfering. He believed it would be wholesome discipline for the boy to have to work his way upward by force of perseverance and obedience, each step so taken would be a double gain; he had time enough before him, and should prove his powers to Franklyn by his own efforts. Meanwhile he kept him with him a good deal, and took him one day to the Cathedral to see the progress which had been made.
Hugh could not rest without going everywhere, and then was so tired that, while Gervase went off to inspect some of the masons’ work, he curled himself up upon one of the misereres and fell asleep. He awoke with a start to find himself looked down upon by a kindly-faced man in an ecclesiastical dress, though this last was not of the sumptuous character at that time worn. Other ecclesiastics were moving about the building. 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 thy friends left thee behind and forgotten thee?”
“Nay, reverend sir,” said Hugh, “I am Master Gervase’s apprentice.”