beganto be very much frightened with the loneliness and the darkness, and theuneasy sense that, unlike the time when he passed before, he was notgoing the way in which he could expect the overshadowing Care in whichhis father had rested so confidently. Then more than once side roadsbranched off; he was not sure that he was keeping to that which wasright, and little as he seemed to have to steal, there was the king'sgold noble which would be excellent booty for any cut-purse. The houseseemed so long in coming that he began to think he must have passed itin the dark, and when at last he made it out, his heart sank to thinkthat after all his efforts he had got no further; besides, there was nota light or sign of life about it, it looked so gloomy and forbiddingthat he was scarcely less terrified at it than at the lonely road. Heventured at last, however, to knock timidly at the door, but wasanswered by such a fierce growling that he clasped Agrippa the closerand fled.
Fled--but where to flee? Wet to the skin, hungry, miserable, before hehad got six miles on his way, what could he do? Creeping back to thehouse to see if there were no outside shelter under which he mightcrawl, he at last found a small stack of fuel piled close to the mudwalls, and by pulling this out a little formed a small hole where hemade shift to lie, shivering, and in a miserable plight.
He slept, however, and forgot his misery until he awoke, cramped, achingall over, and hungrier than ever. He was too much afraid of the dog toventure to wait till the people were up and about, and set off again onhis weary tramp, hoping he might reach some other hut where he could getfood for himself and the monkey. Rain still fell, though not soheavily, and he could not understand why he got on so slowly, and foundhimself scarcely able to drag one leg after the other. Agrippa, too,also wet, cold, and hungry, shivered and chattered piteously.
At last he reached a hut where the man had gone to work, and the womangave him black bread and cider. But she had an evil face, and took morefrom him than the food was worth, casting greedy looks at the remainder,and the children ran after him and pelted him and Agrippa with stones;so that Hugh was forced to hurry on as fast as his aching limbs couldcarry him, and by the time he had gone up a little hill, felt as if allthe breath were out of his body, and he must drop by the road-side. Heknew now that he must be ill, it seemed to him, indeed, that he wasdying, and it was horrible to picture himself lying unheeded among thepiles of dead leaves, the dank and rotting vegetation, the deep redmud--no one would know, and his only friend, poor Agrippa, would die ofcold and hunger by his side.
It was no wonder that his thoughts went back with longing to MasterGervase's house in Exeter, where food and shelter were never lacking.
After this he still struggled on, but in a dazed, mechanical sort ofway, until he was quite sure that he had been walking all day, and thatnight must be near at hand. And with this conviction, and all thehorror of coming darkness sweeping over him, he felt he could go nofarther, and flung himself down upon the wet bank, under a thick growthof nut-bushes.
There Master Gervase found him.
When Elyas reached home close on sunset the day before, there was somuch welcoming and hugging of Joan, so many messages to give, so manythings to be spoken about, that he did not at first miss Hugh,especially as Wat was also absent. By-and-by when Wat returned,open-mouthed with sights at the pillory, Elyas asked for the little boy,and Prothasy poured out her grievances. The monkey made him idle, andshe had said it should not stay in the house, and then he had flown intoa rage with William, and had been told he should have nought but breadand water.
"And that is better than he deserves," she ended. "Look you, husband, Iam resolved. That evil beast shall not remain here with Joan. Thouknowest that my nay is ever nay."
Elyas looked very grave, but made no answer. Hugh was idle, and norebellion against Franklyn could be permitted, yet his kind heart achedfor the fatherless little fellow who had taken his fancy from the first.He would not interfere with the punishment, but he resolved that whensupper was over, he would go upstairs and see whether he could not mendmatters. And he was a little distraught throughout the long supper,whereat Joan reigned like a veritable queen, and, it must be owned,tyrannised in some degree over her subjects. She rather vexed hermother by demanding the new boy. Father had talked to her of him, andhad told her of a wonderful little beast with a face like an old man's,and hands to hold things by; she would love to see him--where was he,why didn't he come to supper?
"Think not of him, Joan," said her mother quickly at last. "He is noplayfellow for thee. He would bite and terrify thee."
This caused an interval of pondering, and Prothasy fondly hoped ofimpression, but presently Mistress Joan lifted her little golden head.
"I want him," she said. "I would kiss him." Prothasy lookedreproachfully at her husband, who was smiling.
The supper, as has been said, was long, and before it was finished Joan,tired out with excitement, was leaning against her father's arm, asleep.He lifted her tenderly and carried her to their room, where she slept,and where she was soon lying in her little crib, looking fairer thanever. Husband and wife stood gazing at her with overfull hearts, andElyas, ever large in sympathies, let his thoughts go out to thewood-carver who had cared so much for his boy, and wished he could havetaken Hugh with him that day, or that he could talk him into readierobedience to Franklyn. He was very desirous to temper justice withmercy when he left Joan and went to seek Hugh.
It surprised him exceedingly to get no answer to his call. He liftedthe light and looked round the room in vain, nor was Agrippa to be seenoverhead among the rafters. It was possible that Hugh had slipped outand stayed thus late, but he had never done it before, and it was seveno'clock, dark and raining. Elyas began to feel very uneasy. He soughthis wife, called Franklyn, who had not left the house, and questionedthe other apprentices. Roger never paid any attention to Hugh, treatinghim as a little boy, whom it would be waste of time to notice; Watreported that he had invited him to go out with him, but got no answer.
"He had never seen a man in the pillory, either, and here were three,"added Wat cheerfully.
Quick compunction seized Prothasy, though rather for her husband's sakethan Hugh's; she said little, but ran hastily about the house, and evenout into the wet yard, where, however, Franklyn had been before her, andthen she stood in the doorway, looking up and down the street. Herhusband's voice behind startled her.
"He hath run away," he said gravely.
"Thinkest thou so?" she said turning quickly. "Elyas, it was not muchthat I said, and it was not he but the monkey which provoked me."
"Nay, I am not blaming thee, I blame myself. He is but a little lad tobe left friendless in the world, and I might have been more tender withhim, and kept him more by mine own side. Then this would not havehappened."
"Where will he go?"
"That I must find out at the gates, which I will do presently, though itis too late to pass out to-night. Most likely he has taken the road heknew best."
He came back before long, saying it was as he thought, for the keeper ofthe West Gate had seen the boy go out. At sunrise Elyas said he wouldmount his good grey and follow. There was nothing else to be done, andhe made as light of it as he could to Prothasy, saying the dreariness ofthe night might give a useful lesson.
And so it was that early the next day, when poor Hugh had got no furtherthan a bare two miles from the place where he had slept, although hefelt as if he had been walking all day, Master Gervase came upon alittle figure lying under a clump of nut-bushes, and with a pang in hisheart, sprang off his horse, and gathering Hugh and Agrippa into hisarms, mounted again, and rode back as quickly as he could to Exeter.
CHAPTER NINE.
BISHOP BITTON IN HIS CATHEDRAL.
Hugh's illness was severe and painful, for he was racked with feverishrheumatism, and could scarcely bear to be touched or even looked at.Often he was light-headed and talked persistently of his father,imploring him not to leave him, and at other times would cry so bitterlythat it was impossible
to soothe him. Prothasy had been terriblyshocked when her husband rode up to the door, carrying his unconsciousburden, and had spared neither care nor attendance upon him, rigidlycarrying out the directions of the leech, which to us would soundhopelessly fantastical, and listening patiently to his longdisquisitions upon Aesculapius and Galen. But her presence seemed todisturb the boy, and she often drew back wounded. Strange to say, heendured Wat's awkward though good-hearted ministrations, but the onlyperson to whom he clung, to please whom he would take his medicine, andwho seemed to have the power of causing him to sleep, was Elyas. Onepossible reason was that Master Gervase had a strange quickness infinding out what troubled him. Once or twice he had soothed him byputting before him his father's carvings, and more often by placingAgrippa on the bed. The monkey had been ill himself after the exposureof that night, and it was Prothasy