Prentice Hugh
Page 16
leaving manyremarks behind him.
"An ungracious little varlet!" said one.
"Tut, man, he could scarce keep back his tears," said another who sawfurther.
"What makes the master take another prentice? I thought MistressProthasy would never abide more than two. And there was thy nephew,William, if a third must be."
"The master will do what pleases him," said Franklyn stiffly.
"Or what pleases Mistress Prothasy, and most likely this is her fancy.She would have another Wat in the house."
This was followed by a loud laugh, for Wat's awkwardnesses werewell-known to bring him into sore disfavour with the mistress of thehouse.
The day went by, and the night came on again. Elyas proposed sitting uphimself, but Stephen refused, saying that he wanted no one but Hugh.
"And I think I shall sleep well," he added, with a feeble smile.
Afterwards, Gervase thought he meant more than his words conveyed.
Before Hugh lay down his father made him put back the shutter from thelittle window, and look out upon the night. All was quiet, lights wereextinguished, every now and then the watchmen came up and down thestreet, but no other noises were abroad; the opposite houses rose up soclosely that from the balconies it looked as if it were possible totouch hands, and over head, though it was late autumn, the moon shone ina serene sky, sending her silver rays into the narrow street andintensifying all the shadows. Stephen listened, while Hugh told himjust what he could see.
The boy closed the shutter and would have lain down, but Stephen calledhim feebly to his side.
"Remember," he whispered, with difficulty. "For the glory of God."
"Ay, father."
"And the--enemies. Fight the right enemies."
"Ay, father."
Something the carver murmured, it might have been a blessing, but Hughcaught only the word, "Alice."
"Shall I get thee aught, father?"
"Nay. Lie down--I will call if I need aught."
It was his last self-denial for his child. The boy was soon asleep, butthrough the long hours, Stephen lay, fighting for breath, until thestruggle ended in unconsciousness, and that, too, passed into death.When Elyas came in the early morning, and saw what had happened, helifted Hugh in his strong arms and carried him into the room where theother boys slept. Wat was snoring peacefully with open mouth, but Rogerwas awake, and the master hastily whispered how it was to him.
"Keep the boy here. Tell him his father must not be disturbed," hesaid.
It was Prothasy who, after all, broke the tidings. She shrank from itat first, saying that Elyas was tenderer in words and less strange toHugh, but her husband looked so grieved that, as usual, she repented,and did his bidding. And she was really kind, leading him in herself tolook upon the peaceful face of the dead, and soothing his burst of tearswith great patience and gentleness.
The days that followed were strange and miserable to poor Hugh. He hadnever been without his father, who had been father and mother both tohim, and had made him so close a companion that in many ways he was mucholder than his years. And, in spite of all kindness, the sense ofsolitude and loneliness that swept over him when the funeral--which theguild of which Elyas was warden attended--was over, and he was back inthe house, with a new life before him, to be lived among those who were,in good truth, strangers, was something which all his life long he couldnot forget.
The good master had him rightly enrolled as his apprentice, and thenjudged it well to leave him alone for a day or two, telling him he mightgo where he liked until his work began. No place seemed so comfortingto Hugh as the Cathedral. He would go and watch the workers, and feedhis keen sense of beauty with gazing on the fair upspringing lines andthe noble sheaves of pillars, and wonder whether the day would come whenwork of his should find a place there, and his father's dream befulfilled.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
DIFFICULTIES.
It was about a week after this that Master Gervase in working dress wentout into his yard. Dinner was over at an early hour, and the two mealsof the day were long and plentiful as to cheer; so long and soplentiful, indeed, that there is a record in the preceding reign ofthirty thousand dishes being served at one feast, and the sumptuary lawswhich regulated excesses in dress and food do not seem to have beenuncalled for.
In Master Gervase's household there was no excess, but abundance inevery kind, and hearty partaking of beef and cider, Mistress Prothasybeing famous for her housekeeping and capable ways, so that Elyas wentinto his yard with all the contentment of a well-fed man.
Men and prentices were hard at work in their different ways. Franklynand Roger had the finest cutting, and Elyas paused before Roger'scrocket to examine his progress.
"It is excellent," he said, heartily, so that the lad's sallow faceflushed; "the cutting deep and clean--naught can be much better in goodsooth than the workmanship. Thy design is not so good."
"No," said Roger, quickly.
"No. It wants freedom, boldness, it smacks too much of the yard and toolittle of the artist. There is thy stumbling-block, Roger. I can givethee the means of execution, but I cannot put this into thee. See!"
He seized a piece of burnt stick which lay by, and on a rough plankhastily sketched a crocket similar in form to that on which Roger wasworking. But what a difference! What strength in the up-curved lines!What possibilities seemed to blossom out of the rapid outline! As Rogerwatched a look of bitter mortification gathered in his face; the easeand vigour of the drawing were, as he recognised, quite beyond hisgrasp. When the master moved on he drew the board close to him, yet sothat it was concealed from other eyes, and tried with all his skill tobring his carving into better harmony with its spirit.
Gervase glanced at all the work in the yard, giving a word to each, andspecial praise to a canopy which Franklyn and another man were engagedupon, and which was an order from a neighbouring abbey. To a fourthworker, Peter Sim, he pointed out that his moulding was thin and wantedrichness.
"Ay," muttered his neighbour, "he is so thin himself he can see nobeauty save in leanness."
"That will scarce be thy failing, Hal," said Gervase, good-humouredly."Now, Wat, what tool is that thou art using?"
"It is broken, but it cuts well enough, sir," said Wat, regarding hishalf chisel with affection.
"Cuts well enough," repeated the master, angrily, throwing the tool onone side; "and what thinkest thou, prithee, the guild would say if Isuffered such a tool to be used in my yard? And how came it broken?"
"There never was such a one for breaking his tools," grumbled Franklyn,who had picked up the chisel and was examining it; "it is my belief heuses them to dig the ground with."
"Nay," said Wat, scratching his head, "but the stone is hard."
"Thou shalt spend thy next holiday in finding out whether it be hard ornot," said Elyas, angrily, "an thou be not more careful. How now, Hugh,what work have they set thee to?"
The good man's heart melted as he looked at the boy, who seemed a sadlittle figure among the others. He had got into a far corner, andAgrippa peered down from a rafter in the shed.
"Why art thou in this dark corner by thyself?" demanded Elyas.
"They like not Agrippa, sir," said Hugh, listlessly.
Elyas looked vexed. His wife was also sorely set against the monkey,and he would gladly have had it away, yet he could not find it in hisheart to deprive the boy of his only friend. He stood awhile watchingHugh work, and presently went across to Franklyn.
"See that no harm comes to the monkey," he said in a tone which allmight hear; then, in a much lower voice, "that is hard work thou hastset him to do."
"He must learn his craft," said Franklyn, gruffly.
"But he is a little urchin."
"The more need he should begin at the beginning."
"His father told me he had a wonderful talent for his age."
"Fathers ever think their children wonders. Is it your pleasure, MasterGervase, that I treat him di
fferently from any other prentice?"
"Nay, nay," said Elyas, hastily, and, knowing that the idea offavouritism would make Hugh very unpopular, he pushed the matter nofurther.
The time that followed was full of bitterness to Hugh. Franklyn, thoughnot a bad-hearted man, was sore and disappointed to have his nephew, ashe thought, supplanted, and, since he could not visit it upon the masterhimself, he visited it upon Hugh. The other men sided with Franklyn,and Hugh made no efforts to gain their good-will; pride grows quickly,and he had been a good deal set-up on board the ship, although Jakes'sdeath had shocked him into a temporary shame. His self-importance wassorely wounded by finding himself treated as absolutely of noconsequence, he, who had spoken, as he reflected with swelling heart,with King Edward