Prentice Hugh

by Frances Mary Peard

himself had a quicker eye for the loveliness ofinterlacing trees, or the fancies of the foliage, and as he sometimestold her, she should have been a boy and a stone-carver. The art ofpainting, save in missals, can scarcely be said to have existed in thosedays, when all beautiful materials, glow of colour, and picturesquenessof line, were at its disposal, and art was forced to take refuge inarchitecture, which it carried to its noblest height, or, with women, inexquisite embroideries.

  Joan had smiled, but she was very sad for Agrippa, and nothing wouldcomfort her but hearing of Hugh's progress with his _surs_, when 'twouldbe finished and she might see it.

  "It should have been done by now," said Hugh, "but this biting coldstiffens my fingers so that I cannot venture on the delicate parts.Come, now, Joan, what sayest thou to thy birthday--Candlemas Day?"

  She clapped her hands.

  "In good sooth. And if father is still better--which Our Lady grant!--he will begin his work that month."

  Elyas, indeed, showed no signs of his past sickness, and as the leech,when Prothasy spoke to him, assured her that malignant influences nolonger threatened, she was greatly comforted. He said himself that hismemory failed, but no one else saw any unusual signs of this notuncommon complaint, and there was little doubt that he would be electedits master by the guild, which some two hundred years later was tostretch itself so far as to incorporate together "Carpenters, Masons,Joiners, and Glaziers and Painters."

  There was no such excitement on Candlemas Day as there had been fivemonths before, for nothing hung on the uncovering of Hugh's carvingbeyond learning whether his second work would equal the promise of hisfirst, and this to the outer world meant little. To his own littleworld, and to the bishop, it meant much. The fame of his first work hadcome through difficulties and by a roundabout fashion; in this that hehad now completed no one could either rightly or wrongly claim a part.When therefore, after the Hours, the bishop and a few of his clergyentered the choir, they found a knot of guild officers there, and allGervase's household, together with Hamlyn's wife and daughters, and afew workmen who had not cared to keep holiday.

  "No greenwood for thee, Hugh, to-day," Elyas had said, and the young manwas there himself, looking gravely content, and not, as Mistress Hamlynexpressed it, in the least puffed with pride.

  At a sign from the bishop, he mounted the ladder and drew off thewrapping cloths.

  Much had been seen during the carving, but now for the first time thework was beheld in its full beauty, and from the group there went up anirrepressible murmur of admiration.

  It was a group of figures. At the top Our Lord and His Mother in glory;below, a single figure of Saint Cecilia drawing music from an instrumentshaped something like a lute, but played with a bow; over her head,inclined gently to the left, a little angel hovered. The grace andsweetness of her attitude, the fall of the draperies, the delicacy ofthe workmanship, raised the beholders into enthusiasm, and though thecorbel was not so prominent as the others, something in the angle inwhich it was seen, and the manner in which it stood out against theouter nave, added to the effect of beauty.

  Hugh had modestly stood aside while the examination went on, but Joanhad stolen to him and slipped her hand in his, and now Elyas turned andembraced him.

  "Hugh," he said, "I am proud to count thee as my son."

  Wat was there, too, absolutely beaming with delight, and seizing Hugh'shand as if he would wring it off.

  "Said I not, said I not,"--he began, and then, "no one can say aughtagainst thy work now; but, Hugh--"

  "Ay?"

  "Couldst not carve a Saint Margaret as well as a Saint Cecilia?Prithee--"

  But here his request was broken off by a message that the Lord Bishopwould speak with Hugh Bassett.

  Bishop Bitton, who had aged fast of late, was leaning on the arm of oneof his priests, but his face was lit with that fire of enthusiasm whichcould always be stirred in him by aught that was good or great. As Hughcame up, he raised his hand, and the young man dropped on his knee toreceive the blessing.

  And as, deeply moved, he rose and stood on one side, it seemed to himthat his father's dying voice stole softly upon his ears--

  "Not for thyself, but for the glory of God."