not, I know not, I wouldliefer have it in thy hands."
"I hold to my own."
"Father, father," cried Joan, running in, "mother bids me ask whetherthou hast told Nicholas Harding to come and help her with the tables?And she saith Hal will drive her demented unless thou find some errandfor him to do."
Such a feast as Prothasy had prepared! And to it came John Hamlyn, hiswife, and daughter, and Wat, contriving to sit next to MistressMargaret, was able to tell her the whole tale, which seemed to her mostmarvellously interesting. Also she questioned him much about his owncorbel, and was amazed to think that it should have been a neighbour'sdog which he had set up, and would fain see for herself the unconsciousSpot who had been thus immortalised. And afterwards she spoke veryprettily to Wat's mother, who had come in from her farm, a proud womanto think what her son had done, and gazing at him as if no mother hadever another such.
But the happiest perhaps was Joan. With Agrippa in her arms, she satnext to Hugh, and could whisper to him from time to time, and listen towhat was said, and rejoice with all her faithful little heart. Neverapprentice had won such honour, and never, said Elyas strongly to JohnHamlyn, could one deserve it better. And in the midst of the feast camea messenger bringing Hugh a gift from the bishop, a reliquary of goodlyworkmanship.
Such a day, as Joan said that evening with a sigh of happiness, hadnever been before!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE SECOND CORBEL.
There is little more to tell. My story is like a web of knitting, andnow the point is reached where the stitches have to be cast off, and thework left. It has been no more than a tale of apprenticeship, andHugh's man's life was but just beginning. Yet those years are enough totell us what the rest was likely to be.
For months he toiled at the second corbel, and in these months passedout of his apprenticeship and became journeyman. Master Gervase waswont to say that the lad was in a fair way to be spoilt, for the storyof that Lammas Day got abroad, as stories did in those days, carriedback by the Pomeroy retainers to Biry, and by the Raleghs to StreetRalegh, and caught at by the wandering minstrels and story-tellers, whowere the great bearers of news about the country, and ever on the watchfor some gossip which they might retail at fair or castle, where ittravelled from the buttery hatch to my lady's closet, and lost naught inthe telling. The town had been crowded by these strangers at the timeof the corbel incident, the annual fair being held on Lammas Day, sothat there was fine opportunity for spreading of news; and when thefamilies from the great houses in the county came into the city, theymust needs go to the Cathedral to see the carving which had caused somuch stir, and those who had work of their own going on would have hadHugh Bassett to carry it out. But nothing would draw him from thecorbel.
"I marvel at the lad," said John Hamlyn one day to his fellow-warden;"he seems to care little for the over-praise he gets. 'Twould turn myRalph's head."
"His father's training has borne fruit," answered Elyas. "Hugh gave uphis own fancies, and held by what he had learnt to be duty; now he yetthinks of the duty, and not of the glory to himself. He is as good tome as any son could be."
"And may be thy son in good earnest?"
"With all my heart," said Gervase cheerfully. "But that must bideawhile."
Hamlyn looked him up and down.
"Thou art as hale, goodman, as ever thou wert before thy sickness."
"Ay, thank God! When the spring comes and the cold of winter is over Ishall fall to work upon the _surs_."
"Best make speed, for the old master can hardly last much longer, and itwill not become thy dignity to be seen on a ladder when thou art in hisplace."
"Tut, tut, man! were I King of England it would become me to work forthe King of kings. But this is idle telling. Wilt come into the yard?That malapert Hal is like to drive William Franklyn out of his wits withhis idle pranks, and I am ever needed to keep the peace."
"And yet in sooth, goodman, thy prentices do thee credit--I would minewere of the same value," said Hamlyn, with a sigh and a thought of hisson Ralph. "I really believe their thick pates can hold naught but thedesire to break those of others. Now there is that man of thine, Wat--he," Hamlyn paused, "he is a likely fellow?"
"As good a lad as ever breathed," returned Gervase heartily. Then helooked at the other warden and smiled. "Thou didst fling out somethingjust now of my having a son in Hugh. Maybe thou hast a thought offinding a son thyself and more quickly?"
"I'd as lief know what like the lad is," said Hamlyn gruffly. "Hegreatly favours our house, and on Holy Cross Day brought nuts enough toMadge to feed a wood full of squirrels."
"He is a boy in his play yet," answered Elyas, "but I have marked himclosely, and he hath in him the making of a true man. I tell thee,neighbour, thou wouldst do well for thy daughter's happiness to give herWat for a husband."
Hamlyn protested that it had not come to this yet, but it was easy tosee that he was well inclined to the young stonemason, and that if Wat'sfancy lasted, which at this time appeared probable, he might win prettyMargaret for his wife. There was a squire in my Lord of Devon's meinewho was desirous to marry her, but Hamlyn had no liking for what hecalled a roystering cut-throat trade, much preferring one of his owncraft, even though his daughter might have aspired to a richer suitor.Wat's simple loyalty to his friend and total absence of self-seeking hadstruck them all, and his corbel was greatly admired, so that thePrideaux family in seeking someone to carve a rich monument hadexpressed a hope that he would be chosen for the work.
Of Roger nothing had been heard. He had gone forth, forbidden toreturn, and though Gervase's kind heart had yearned for a word whichmight show repentance, and give him an excuse for helping him, the wordnever came.
The winter was a sharp one, so sharp that Hugh's carving was somewhathindered by the extreme cold. And just at the New Year Agrippa died.
He had grown old and feeble, no longer able to swing about from rafterto beam as in old days, most content to lie near the fire, wrapped in apiece of warm scarlet Flemish wool which they provided for him, and inhis old age showing yet more markedly his likes and dislikes. Never hadhe done more than tolerate Prothasy, and now, when she came near him, hechattered and scolded with all his weak might. Franklyn, one or two ofthe men, and prentice Hal he detested equally, but there was a newprentice, Gilbert, whom he permitted to stroke him. Joan he loved,saving always when Hugh was near. For him he had a passionate devotionwhich was pathetic. When he was in the room he was never content unlessHugh took him up, and he was jealous even of Joan if she withdrew Hugh'sattention. Yet in spite of his spoilt and irritable ways all thehousehold cared for the quaint little creature, and it was Gervasehimself who came down to the Cathedral, when they were singing nones inthe Lady Chapel, to fetch Hugh, who, his fingers having grown stiff overhis corbel with the bitter cold, had given it up for the day, and wasworking under Franklyn's directions at some of the larger work which yetremained to be finished in the choir.
"Joan would have thee home to see Agrippa," said the warden, laying hishand as he loved to do on Hugh's shoulder; "the poor beast is sorelysick--unto death, if I mistake not."
It did not take Hugh many minutes to dash through St Martin's Gate intothe High Street and his master's house. Joan called to him the momentshe heard his voice, and he found her in much distress, kneeling closeto the fire on which she had piled as many logs as she could. Thereunder his scarlet covering lay poor Agrippa at the last gasp, but stillable to recognise his master with the old look of love, and thestretching forth his poor little shrunk paw. Hugh flung himself down byhis side, heaping endearments upon him, while Joan held back lest herpresence by Hugh should stir the little creature's anger. It was overthe next moment. One loving piteous look, one movement as though toraise himself towards his master, and the eyes glazed and the limbsstiffened, and Hugh's faithful little companion for more than sevenyears was gone.
Joan sobbed bitterly, and Hugh was more moved than he would have caredto
let anyone but her see. They both knelt on by his side, till Hughrose and drew her to her feet.
"Poor Agrippa! He has had a happy home, thanks to thee. Thou wert hisfirst protector, Joan."
She looked up and smiled through her tears.
"When thou wast so frighted at mother that thou must needs break thyindentures and run away! Father hath often told me of it. 'Twas wellit was father, and that he was able to keep it from coming to the guild.But to think thou didst not know mother better."
She was a wise little maiden, capable as was Prothasy, and with as warmaffections, but a gentler manner of showing them. And from her fathershe had inherited his gift of imagination and love of beauty, so that inthe greenwood not Hugh