He was a tall man, taller even than Myles's father. He had a thinface, deep-set bushy eyebrows, and a hawk nose. His upper lip wasclean shaven, but from his chin a flowing beard of iron- grayhung nearly to his waist. He was clad in a riding-gown of blackvelvet that hung a little lower than the knee, trimmed with otterfur and embroidered with silver goshawks--the crest of the familyof Beaumont.
A light shirt of link mail showed beneath the gown as he walked,and a pair of soft undressed leather riding-boots were laced ashigh as the knee, protecting his scarlet hose from mud and dirt.
Over his shoulders he wore a collar of enamelled gold, from whichhung a magnificent jewelled pendant, and upon his fist he carrieda beautiful Iceland falcon.
As Myles stood staring, he suddenly heard Gascoyne's voicewhisper in his ear, "Yon is my Lord; go forward and give him thyletter."Scarcely knowing what he did, he walked towards the Earl like amachine, his heart pounding within him and a great humming in hisears. As he drew near, the nobleman stopped for a moment andstared at him, and Myles, as in a dream, kneeled, and presentedthe letter. The Earl took it in his hand, turned it this way andthat, looked first at the bearer, then at the packet, and then atthe bearer again.
"Who art thou?" said he; "and what is the matter thou wouldsthave of me?""I am Myles Falworth," said the lad, in a low voice; "and I comeseeking service with you."The Earl drew his thick eyebrows quickly together, and shot akeen look at the lad. "Falworth?" said he, sharply--"Falworth? Iknow no Falworth!"
"The letter will tell you," said Myles. "It is from one once dearto you."The Earl took the letter, and handing it to a gentleman who stoodnear, bade him break the seal. "Thou mayst stand," said he toMyles; "needst not kneel there forever." Then, taking the openedparchment again, he glanced first at the face and then at theback, and, seeing its length, looked vexed. Then he read for anearnest moment or two, skipping from line to line. Presently hefolded the letter and thrust it into the pouch at his side. "Soit is, your Grace," said he to the lordly prelate, "that we whohave luck to rise in the world must ever suffer by being plaguedat all times and seasons. Here is one I chanced to know a dozenyears ago, who thinks he hath a claim upon me, and saddles mewith his son. I must e'en take the lad, too, for the sake ofpeace and quietness." He glanced around, and seeing Gascoyne, whohad drawn near, beckoned to him. "Take me this fellow," said he,"to the buttery, and see him fed; and then to Sir James Lee, andhave his name entered in the castle books. And stay, sirrah," headded; "bid me Sir James, if it may be so done, to enter him as asquire-at-arms. Methinks he will be better serving so than in thehousehold, for he appeareth a soothly rough cub for a page."Myles did look rustic enough, standing clad in frieze in themidst of that gay company, and a murmur of laughter soundedaround, though he was too bewildered to fully understand that hewas the cause of the merriment. Then some hand drew him back--itwas Gascoyne's--there was a bustle of people passing, and thenext minute they were gone, and Myles and old Diccon Bowman andthe young squire were left alone in the anteroom.
Gascoyne looked very sour and put out. "Murrain upon it!" saidhe; "here is good sport spoiled for me to see thee fed. I wish noill to thee, friend, but I would thou hadst come this afternoonor to-morrow.""Methinks I bring trouble and dole to every one," said Myles,somewhat bitterly. "It would have been better had I never come tothis place, methinks."His words and tone softened Gascoyne a little. "Ne'er mind," saidthe squire; "it was not thy fault, and is past mending now. Socome and fill thy stomach, in Heaven's name."Perhaps not the least hard part of the whole trying day for Myleswas his parting with Diccon. Gascoyne and he had accompanied theold retainer to the outer gate, in the archway of which they nowstood; for without a permit they could go no farther. The oldbowman led by the bridle- rein the horse upon which Myles hadridden that morning. His own nag, a vicious brute, was restive tobe gone, but Diccon held him in with tight rein. He reached down,and took Myles's sturdy brown hand in his crooked, knotted grasp.
"Farewell, young master," he croaked, tremulously, with a wateryglimmer in his pale eyes. "Thou wilt not forget me when I amgone?""Nay," said Myles; "I will not forget thee.""Aye, aye," said the old man, looking down at him, and shakinghis head slowly from side to side; "thou art a great tall sturdyfellow now, yet have I held thee on my knee many and many's thetime, and dandled thee when thou wert only a little weeny babe.
Be still, thou devil's limb!" he suddenly broke off, reining backhis restive raw- boned steed, which began again to caper andprance. Myles was not sorry for the interruption; he felt awkwardand abashed at the parting, and at the old man's reminiscences,knowing that Gascoyne's eyes were resting amusedly upon thescene, and that the men-at-arms were looking on. Certainly oldDiccon did look droll as he struggled vainly with his vicioushigh-necked nag. "Nay, a murrain on thee! an' thou wilt go, go!"cried he at last, with a savage dig of his heels into theanimal's ribs, and away they clattered, the led-horse kicking upits heels as a final parting, setting Gascoyne fairly alaughing.
At the bend of the road the old man turned and nodded his head;the next moment he had disappeared around the angle of the wall,and it seemed to Myles, as he stood looking after him, as thoughthe last thread that bound him to his old life had snapped andbroken. As he turned he saw that Gascoyne was looking at him.
"Dost feel downhearted?" said the young squire, curiously.
"Nay," said Myles, brusquely. Nevertheless his throat was tightand dry, and the word came huskily in spite of himself.
