The Armourer's Prentices Read online

  CHAPTER TEN.

  TWO VOCATIONS.

  "The smith, a mighty man is he With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands." Longfellow.

  Stephen's first thought in the morning was whether the _ex voto_ effigyof poor Spring was put in hand, while Ambrose thought of Tibble'spromised commendation to the printer. They both, however, found theiraffairs must needs wait. Orders for weapons for the tilting-match hadcome in so thickly the day before that every hand must be employed onexecuting them, and the Dragon court was ringing again with the clang ofhammers and screech of grind-stones.

  Stephen, though not yet formally bound, was to enter on his apprenticelife at once; and Ambrose was assured by Master Headley that it was ofno use to repair to any of the dignified clergy of Saint Paul's beforemid-day, and that he had better employ the time in writing to his elderbrother respecting the fee. Materials were supplied to him, and he usedthem so as to do credit to the monks of Beaulieu, in spite of littleDennet spending every spare moment in watching his pen as if he wereperforming some cabalistic operation.

  He was a long time about it. There were two letters to write, and thewording of them needed to be very careful, besides that the old courthand took more time to frame than the Italian current hand, and eventhus, when dinner-time came, at ten o'clock, the household wasastonished to find that he had finished all that regarded Stephen,though he had left the letters open, until his own venture should havebeen made.

  Stephen flung himself down beside his brother hot and panting, shakinghis shoulder-blades and declaring that his arms felt ready to drop out.He had been turning a grindstone ever since six o'clock. The two newapprentices had been set on to sharpening the weapon points as all thatthey were capable of, and had been bidden by Smallbones to turn and holdalternately, but "that oaf Giles Headley," said Stephen, "never groundbut one lance, and made me go on turning, threatening to lay the buttabout mine ears if I slacked."

  "The lazy lubber!" cried Ambrose. "But did none see thee, or couldstnot call out for redress?"

  "Thou art half a wench thyself, Ambrose, to think I'd complain.Besides, he stood on his rights as a master, and he is a big fellow."

  "That's true," said Ambrose, "and he might make it the worse for thee."

  "I would I were as big as he," sighed Stephen, "I would soon show himwhich was the better man."

  Perhaps the grinding match had not been as unobserved as Stephenfancied, for on returning to work, Smallbones, who presided over all therougher parts of the business, claimed them both. He set Stephen tostand by him, sort out and hand him all the rivets needed for a suit ofproof armour that hung on a frame, while he required Giles to straightenbars of iron heated to a white heat. Ere long Giles called out forStephen to change places, to which Smallbones coolly replied, "Turnaboutis the rule here, master."

  "Even so," replied Giles, "and I have been at work like this longenough, ay, and too long!"

  "Thy turn was a matter of three hours this morning," replied Kit--notcoolly, for nobody was cool in his den, but with a brevity whichprovoked a laugh.

  "I shall see what my cousin the master saith!" cried Giles, in greatwrath.

  "Ay, that thou wilt," returned Kit, "if thou dost loiter over thybusiness, and hast not those bars ready when called for."

  "He never meant me to be put on work like this, with a hammer thatbreaks mine arm."

  "What! crying out for that!" said Edmund Burgess, who had just come into ask for a pair of tongs. "What wouldst say to the big hammer thatnone can wield save Kit himself?"

  Giles felt there was no redress, and panted on, feeling as if he weremelting away, and with a dumb, wild rage in his heart, that could get nooutlet, for Smallbones was at least as much bigger than he as he wasthan Stephen. Tibble was meanwhile busy over the gilding and enamellingof Buckingham's magnificent plate armour in Italian fashion, but he hadfound time to thrust into Ambrose's hand an exceedingly small andcuriously folded billet for Lucas Hansen, the printer, in case of need."He would be found at the sign of the Winged Staff in Paternoster Row,"said Tibble, "or if not there himself, there would be his servant whowould direct Ambrose to the place where the Dutch printer lived andworked." No one was at leisure to show the lad the way, and he set outwith a strange feeling of solitude, as his path began decisively to beaway from that of his brother.

  He did not find much difficulty in discovering the quadrangle on thesouth side of the minster where the minor canons lived near the deanery;and the porter, a stout lay brother, pointed out to him the doorwaybelonging to Master Alworthy. He knocked, and a young man with atonsured head but a bloated face opened it. Ambrose explained that hehad brought a letter from the Warden of Saint Elizabeth's College atWinchester.

  "Give it here," said the young man.

  "I would give it to his reverence himself," said Ambrose.

  "His reverence is taking his after-dinner nap and may not be disturbed,"said the man.

  "Then I will wait," said Ambrose.

  The door was shut in his face, but it was the shady side of the court,and he sat down on a bench and waited. After full an hour the door wasopened, and the canon, a good-natured looking man, in a square cap, andgown and cassock of the finest cloth, came slowly out. He had evidentlyheard nothing of the message, and was taken by surprise when Ambrose,doffing his cap and bowing low, gave him the greeting of the Warden ofSaint Elizabeth's and the letter.

  "Hum! Ha! My good friend--Fielder--I remember him. He was always ascholar. So he hath sent thee here with his commendations. What shouldI do with all the idle country lads that come up to choke London andfeed the plague? Yet stay--that lurdane Bolt is getting intolerablylazy and insolent, and methinks he robs me! What canst do, thoustripling?"

  "I can read Latin, sir, and know the Greek alphabeta."

  "Tush! I want no scholar more than enough to serve my mass. Canstsing?"

  "Not now; but I hope to do so again."

  "When I rid me of Bolt there--and there's an office under the sacristanthat he might fill as well as another knave--the fellow might do for mewell enow as a body servant," said Mr Alworthy, speaking to himself."He would brush my gowns and make my bed, and I might perchance trusthim with my marketings, and by and by there might be some office for himwhen he grew saucy and idle. I'll prove him on mine old comrade'sword."

  "Sir," said Ambrose, respectfully, "what I seek for is occasion forstudy. I had hoped you could speak to the Dean, Dr John Colet, forsome post at his school."

  "Boy," said Alworthy, "I thought thee no such fool! Why crack thybrains with study when I can show thee a surer path to ease andpreferment? But I see thou art too proud to do an old man a service.Thou writst thyself gentleman, forsooth, and high blood will not stoop."

  "Not so, sir," returned Ambrose, "I would work in any way so I couldstudy the humanities, and hear the Dean preach. Cannot you commend meto his school?"

  "Ha!" exclaimed the canon, "this is your sort, is it? I'll have noughtto do with it! Preaching, preaching! Every idle child's head is agogon preaching nowadays! A plague on it! Why can't Master Dean leave itto the black friars, whose vocation 'tis, and not cumber us with hissermons for ever, and set every lazy lad thinking he must needs runafter them? No, no, my good boy, take my advice. Thou shalt have twogood bellyfuls a day, all my cast gowns, and a pair of shoes by theyear, with a groat a month if thou wilt keep mine house, bring in mymeals, and the like, and by and by, so thou art a good lad, and runstnot after these new-fangled preachments which lead but to heresy, andset folk racking their brains about sin and such trash, we'll get theeshorn and into minor orders, and who knows what good preferment thoumayst not win in due time!"

  "Sir, I am beholden to you, but my mind is set on study."

  "What kin art thou to a fool?" cried the minor canon, so startlingAmbrose that he had almost answered, and turning to another ecclesiasticwhose siesta seemed to have ended about the same time, "Look at thisvarlet, Br
other Cloudesley! Would you believe it? He comes to me witha letter from mine old friend, in consideration of which I offer himthat saucy lubber Bolt's place, a gown of mine own a year, meat andpreferment, and, lo you, he tells me all he wants is to study Greek,forsooth, and hear the Dean's sermons!"

  The other canon shook his head in dismay at such arrant folly. "Youngstripling, be warned," he said. "Know what is good for thee. Greek isthe tongue of heresy."

  "How may that be, reverend sir," said Ambrose, "when the holy Apostlesand the Fathers spake and wrote in the Greek?"

  "Waste not thy time on him, brother," said Mr Alworthy. "He will findout his error when his pride and his Greek forsooth have brought him tofire and faggot."

  "Ay! ay!" added Cloudesley. "The Dean with his Dutch friend and hissermons, and his new grammar and accidence, is sowing heretics as thickas groundsel."

  Wherewith the two canons of the old school waddled away, arm in arm, andBolt put out his head, leered at Ambrose, and bade him shog off, and notcome sneaking after other folk's shoes.

  Sooth to say, Ambrose was relieved by his rejection. If he were not toobtain admission in any capacity to Saint Paul's School, he felt moredrawn to Tibble's friend the printer; for the self-seeking luxurioushabits into which so many of the beneficed clergy had fallen wererepulsive to him, and his whole soul thirsted after that new revelation,as it were, which Colet's sermon had made to him. Yet the word heresywas terrible and confusing, and a doubt came over him whether he mightnot be forsaking the right path, and be lured aside by false lights.

  He would think it out before he committed himself. Where should he doso in peace? He thought of the great Minster, but the nave was full ofa surging multitude, and there was a loud hum of voices proceeding fromit, which took from him all inclination to find his way to the quieterand inner portions of the sanctuary.

  Then he recollected the little Pardon Church, where he had seen the_Dance of Death_ on the walls; and crossing the burial-ground heentered, and, as he expected, found it empty, since the hours for massesfor the dead were now past. He knelt down on a step, repeated the sextoffice, in warning for which the bells were chiming all round, coveringhis face with his hands, and thinking himself back to Beaulieu; then,seating himself on a step, leaning against the wall, he tried to thinkout whether to give himself up to the leadings of the new light that hadbroken on him, or whether to wrench himself from it. Was this, whichseemed to him truth and deliverance, verily the heresy respecting whichrumours had come to horrify the country convents? If he had only heardof it from Tibble Wrymouth, he would have doubted, in spite of its powerover him, but he had heard it from a man, wise, good, and high in place,like Dean Colet. Yet to his further perplexity, his uncle had spoken ofColet as jesting at Wolsey's table. What course should he take? Couldhe bear to turn away from that which drew his soul so powerfully, andreturn to the bounds which seem to him to be grown so narrow, but whichhe was told were safe? Now that Stephen was settled, it was open to himto return to Saint Elizabeth's College, but the young soul within himrevolted against the repetition of what had become to him unsatisfying,unless illumined by the brightness he seemed to have glimpsed at.

  But Ambrose had gone through much unwonted fatigue of late, and whilethus musing he fell asleep, with his head against the wall. He was halfwakened by the sound of voices, and presently became aware that twopersons were examining the walls, and comparing the paintings with someothers, which one of them had evidently seen. If he had known it, itwas with the _Dance of Death_ on the bridge of Lucerne.

  "I question," said a voice that Ambrose had heard before, "whether theseterrors be wholesome for men's souls."

  "For priests' pouches, they be," said the other, with something of aforeign accent.

  "Alack, when shall we see the day when the hope of paradise and dread ofpurgatory shall be no longer made the tools of priestly gain; and hatredof sin taught to these poor folk, instead of servile dread ofpunishment."

  "Have a care, my Colet," answered the yellow bearded foreigner; "thouart already in ill odour with those same men in authority; and though aDean's stall be fenced from the episcopal crook, yet there is a rod atRome which can reach even thither."

  "I tell thee, dear Erasmus, thou art too timid; I were well content toleave house and goods, yea, to go to prison or to death, could I butbring home to one soul, for which Christ died, the truth and hope inevery one of those prayers and creeds that our poor folk are taught topatter as a senseless charm."

  "These are strange times," returned Erasmus. "Methinks yonder phantom,be he skeleton or angel, will have snatched both of us away ere webehold the full issue either of thy preachings, or my Greek Testament,or of our More's Utopian images. Dost thou not feel as though we werelike children who have set some mighty engine in motion, like the greatwater-wheels in my native home, which, whirled by the flowing streams oftime and opinion, may break up the whole foundations, and destroy theoneness of the edifice?"

  "It may be so," returned Colet. "What read we? `The net brake' even inthe Master's sight, while still afloat on the sea. It was only on theshore that the hundred and fifty-three, all good and sound, were drawnto His feet."

  "And," returned Erasmus, "I see wherefore thou hast made thy children atSaint Paul's one hundred and fifty and three."

  The two friends were passing out. Their latter speeches had scarce beenunderstood by Ambrose, even if he heard them, so full was he ofconflicting feelings, now ready to cast himself before their feet, andentreat the Dean to help him to guidance, now withheld by bashfulness,unwillingness to interrupt, and ingenuous shame at appearing like aneavesdropper towards such dignified and venerable personages. Had heobeyed his first impulse, mayhap his career had been made safer andeasier for him, but it was while shyness chained his limbs and tonguethat the Dean and Erasmus quitted the chapel, and the opportunity ofaccosting them had slipped away.

  Their half comprehended words had however decided him in the part heshould take, making him sure that Colet was not controverting theformularies of the Church, but drawing out those meanings which inrepetition by rote were well-nigh forgotten. It was as if his coursewere made clear to him.

  He was determined to take the means which most readily presentedthemselves of hearing Colet; and leaving the chapel, he bent his stepsto the Row which his book-loving eye had already marked. Flanking thegreat Cathedral on the north, was the row of small open stalls devotedto the sale of books, or "objects of devotion," all so arranged that theopen portion might be cleared, and the stock-in-trade locked up if notcarried away. Each stall had its own sign, most of them sacred, such asthe Lamb and Flag, the Scallop Shell, or some patron saint, butclassical emblems were oddly intermixed, such as Minerva's aegis,Pegasus, and the Lyre of Apollo. The sellers, some middle-aged men,some lads, stretched out their arms with their wares to attract thepassengers in the street, and did not fail to beset Ambrose. The morelively looked at his Lincoln-green and shouted verses of ballads at him,fluttering broad sheets with verses on the lamentable fate of JaneShore, or Fair Rosamond, the same woodcut doing duty for both ladies,without mercy to their beauty. The scholastic judged by his face andstep that he was a student, and they flourished at him black-boundcopies of Virgilius Maro, and of Tully's Offices, while others, hopingthat he was an incipient clerk, offered breviaries, missals orportuaries, with the Use of Saint Paul's, or of Sarum, or mayhap SaintAustin's Confessions. He made his way along, with his eye diligentlyheedful of the signs, and at last recognised the Winged Staff orcaduceus of Hermes, over a stall where a couple of boys in blue caps andgowns and yellow stockings were making a purchase of a small, grave-looking, elderly but bright cheeked man, whose yellow hair and beardwere getting intermingled with grey. They were evidently those SaintPaul's School boys whom Ambrose envied so much, and as they finishedtheir bargaining and ran away together, Ambrose advanced with asalutation, asked if he did not see Master Lucas Hansen, and gave himthe note with the commendations of Tibble Steelma
n the armourer.

  He was answered with a ready nod and "yea, yea," as the old man openedthe billet and cast his eyes over it; then scanning Ambrose from head tofoot, said with some amazement, "But you are of gentle blood, youngsir."

  "I am," said Ambrose; "but gentle blood needs at times to work forbread, and Tibble let me hope that I might find both livelihood for thebody and for the soul with you, sir."

  "Is it so?" asked the printer, his face lighting up. "Art thou willingto labour and toil, and give up hope of fee and honour, if so thou maystwin the truth?"

  Ambrose folded his hands with a gesture of earnestness, and Lucas Hansensaid, "Bless thee, my son! Methinks I can aid thee in thy quest, sothou canst lay aside," and here his voice grew sharper and moreperemptory, "all thy gentleman's airs and follies, and serve--ay, serveand obey."

  "I trust so," returned Ambrose; "my brother is even now becomingprentice to Master Giles Headley, and we hope to live as honest men bythe work of our hands and brains."

  "I forgot that you English herren are not so puffed up with pride andscorn like our Dutch nobles," returned the printer. "Canst livesparingly, and lie hard, and see that thou keepst the house clean, notlike these English swine?"

  "I hope so," said Ambrose, smiling; "but I have an uncle and aunt, andthey would have me lie every night at their house beside the Templegardens."

  "What is thine uncle?"

  "He hath a post in the meine of my Lord Archbishop of York," saidAmbrose, blushing and hesitating a little. "He cometh to and fro to hiswife, who dwells with her old father, doing fine lavender's work for thelawyer folk therein."

  It was somewhat galling that this should be the most respectableoccupation that could be put forward, but Lucas Hansen was evidentlyreassured by it. He next asked whether Ambrose could read Latin,putting a book into his hand as he did so; Ambrose read and construedreadily, explaining that he had been trained at Beaulieu.

  "That is well!" said the printer; "and hast thou any Greek?"

  "Only the alphabeta," said Ambrose, "I made that out from a book atBeaulieu, but Father Simon knew no more, and there was nought to studyfrom."

  "Even so," replied Hansen, "but little as thou knowst 'tis as much as Ican hope for from any who will aid me in my craft. 'Tis I that, as thouhast seen, furnish for the use of the children at the Dean's school ofSaint Paul's. The best and foremost scholars of them are grounded intheir Greek, that being the tongue wherein the Holy Gospels were firstwrit. Hitherto I have had to get me books for their use from Holland,whither they are brought from Basle, but I have had sent me from Hamburga fount of type of the Greek character, whereby I hope to print at home,the accidence, and mayhap the _Dialogues_ of Plato, and it might even bethe sacred Gospel itself, which the great Doctor, Master Erasmus, iseven now collating from the best authorities in the universities."

  Ambrose's eyes kindled with unmistakable delight. "You have theaccidence!" he exclaimed. "Then could I study the tongue even whileworking for you! Sir, I would do my best! It is the very opportunity Iseek."

  "Fair and softly," said the printer with something of a smile. "Thouart new to cheapening and bargaining, my fair lad. Thou hast spoken notone word of the wage."

  "I recked not of that," said Ambrose. "'Tis true, I may not burthenmine uncle and aunt, but verily, sir, I would live on the humblest farethat will keep body and soul together so that I may have such anopportunity."

  "How knowst thou what the opportunity may be?" returned Lucas, drily."Thou art but a babe! Some one should have a care of thee. If I setthee to stand here all day and cry what d'ye lack? or to carry bales ofbooks 'twixt this and Warwick Inner Ward, thou wouldst have no ground tocomplain."

  "Nay, sir," returned Ambrose, "I wot that Tibble Steelman would neversend me to one who would not truly give me what I need."

  "Tibble Steelman is verily one of the few who are both called andchosen," replied Lucas, "and I think thou art the same so far as greenyouth may be judged, since thou art one who will follow the word intothe desert, and never ask for the loaves and fishes. Nevertheless, Iwill take none advantage of thy youth and zeal, but thou shalt firstbehold what thou shalt have to do for me, and then if it still likesthee, I will see thy kindred. Hast no father?"

  Ambrose explained, and at that moment Master Hansen's boy made hisappearance, returning from an errand; the stall was left in his charge,while the master took Ambrose with him into the precincts of what hadonce been the splendid and hospitable mansion of the great king-maker,Warwick, but was now broken up into endless little tenements with theircourts and streets, though the baronial ornaments and the arrangementstill showed what the place had been.

  Entering beneath a wide archway, still bearing the sign of the Bear andRagged Staff, Lucas led the way into what must have been one of thecourts of offices, for it was surrounded with buildings and sheds ofdifferent heights and sizes, and had on one side a deep trough of stone,fed by a series of water-taps, intended for the use of the stables. Thedoors of one of these buildings was unlocked by Master Hansen, andAmbrose found himself in what had once perhaps been part of a stable,but had been partitioned off from the rest. There were two stalls, oneserving the Dutchman for his living room, the other for his workshop.In one corner stood a white earthenware stove--so new a spectacle to theyoung forester that he supposed it to be the printing-press. A table,shiny with rubbing, a wooden chair, a couple of stools, a few vessels,mirrors for brightness, some chests and corner cupboards, a bed shuttingup like a box and likewise highly polished, completed the furniture, allarranged with the marvellous orderliness and neatness of the nation. Acurtain shut off the opening to the other stall, where stood a machinewith a huge screw, turned by leverage. Boxes of type and piles of papersurrounded it, and Ambrose stood and looked at it with a sort of awe-struck wonder and respect as the great fount of wisdom. Hansen showedhim what his work would be, in setting up type, and by and by correctingafter the first proof. The machine could only print four pages at atime, and for this operation the whole strength of the establishment wasrequired. Moreover, Master Hansen bound, as well as printed his books.Ambrose was by no means daunted. As long as he might read as well asprint, and while he had Sundays at Saint Paul's to look to, he asked nomore--except indeed that his gentle blood stirred at the notion ofacting salesman in the book-stall, and Master Hansen assured him with asmile that Will Wherry, the other boy, would do that better than eitherof them, and that he would be entirely employed here.

  The methodical master insisted however on making terms with the boy'srelations; and with some misgivings on Ambrose's part, the two--sincebusiness hours were almost over--walked together to the Temple and tothe little house, where Perronel was ironing under her window.

  Ambrose need not have doubted. The Dutch blood on either side wasstirred; and the good housewife commanded the little printer's respectas he looked round on a kitchen as tidy as if it in his own country.And the bargain was struck that Ambrose Birkenholt should serve MasterHansen for his meals and two pence a week, while he was to sleep at thelittle house of Mistress Randall, who would keep his clothes and linenin order.

  And thus it was that both Ambrose and Stephen Birkenholt had found theirvocations for the present, and both were fervent in them. MasterHeadley pshawed a little when he heard that Ambrose had engaged himselfto a printer and a foreigner; and when he was told it was to a friend ofTibble's, only shook his head, saying that Tib's only fault was dabblingin matters of divinity, as if a plain man could not be saved withoutthem! However, he respected the lad for having known his own mind andnot hung about in idleness, and he had no opinion of clerks, whethermonks or priests. Indeed, the low esteem in which the clergy as a classwere held in London was one of the very evil signs of the times.Ambrose was invited to dine and sup at the Dragon court every Sunday andholiday, and he was glad to accept, since the hospitality was so free,and he thus was able to see his brother and Tibble; besides that, itprevented him from burthening Mistress Randall, whom h
e really liked,though he could not see her husband, either in his motley or his plaingarments, without a shudder of repulsion.

  Ambrose found that setting up type had not much more to do with thestudy of new books than Stephen's turning the grindstone had withfighting in the lists; and the mistakes he made in spelling from rightto left, and in confounding the letters, made him despair, and preparefor any amount of just indignation from his master; but he found on thecontrary that Master Hansen had never had a pupil who made so fewblunders on the first trial, and augured well of him from such abeginning. Paper was too costly, and pressure too difficult, for manyproofs to be struck off, but Hansen could read and correct his type asit stood, and assured Ambrose that practice would soon give him the samepower; and the correction was thus completed, when Will Wherry, a big,stout fellow, came in to dinner--the stall being left during that time,as nobody came for books during the dinner-hour, and Hansen, having anunderstanding with his next neighbour, by which they took turns to keepguard against thieves.

  The master and the two lads dined together on the contents of acauldron, where pease and pork had been simmering together on the stoveall the morning. Their strength was then united to work the press andstrike off a sheet, which the master scanned, finding only one error init. It was a portion of Lilly's _Grammar_, and Ambrose regarded it withmingled pride and delight, though he longed to go further into thosedeeper revelations for the sake of which he had come here.

  Master Hansen then left the youths to strike off a couple of hundredsheets, after which they were to wash the types and re-arrange theletters in the compartments in order, whilst he returned to the stall.The customers requiring his personal attention were generally late ones.When all this was accomplished, and the pot put on again in preparationfor supper, the lads might use the short time that remained as theywould, and Hansen himself showed Ambrose a shelf of books concealed by ablue curtain, whence he might read.

  Will Wherry showed unconcealed amazement that this should be the tasteof his companion. He himself hated the whole business, and would neverhave adopted it, but that he had too many brothers for all to take tothe water on the Thames, and their mother was too poor to apprenticethem, and needed the small weekly pay the Dutchman gave him. He seemeda good-natured, dull fellow, whom no doubt Hansen had hired for the sakeof the strong arms, developed by generations of oarsmen upon the river.What he specially disliked was that his master was a foreigner. Thewhole court swarmed with foreigners, he said, with the utmost disgust,as if they were noxious insects. They made provisions dear, andundersold honest men, and he wondered the Lord Mayor did not see to itand drive them out. He did not so much object to the Dutch, but theSpaniards--no words could express his horror of them.

  By and by, Ambrose going out to fetch some water from the conduit, foundstanding by it a figure entirely new to him. It was a young girl ofsome twelve or fourteen years old, in the round white cap worn by all ofher age and sex; but from beneath it hung down two thick plaits of thedarkest hair he had ever seen, and though the dress was of the ordinarydark serge with a coloured apron, it was put on with an air that made itlook like some strange and beautiful costume on the slender, lithe,little form. The vermilion apron was further trimmed with a narrowborder of white, edged again with deep blue, and it chimed in with thebright coral earrings and necklace. As Ambrose came forward thecreature tried to throw a crimson handkerchief over her head, and raninto the shelter of another door, but not before Ambrose had seen a pairof large dark eyes so like those of a terrified fawn that they seemed tocarry him back to the Forest. Going back amazed, he asked his companionwho the girl he had seen could have been.

  Will stared. "I trow you mean the old blackamoor sword-cutler's wench.He is one of those pestilent strangers. An 'Ebrew Jew who worshipsMahound and is too bad for the Spanish folk themselves."

  This rather startled Ambrose, though he knew enough to see that theaccusations could not both be true, but he forgot it in the delight,when Will pronounced the work done, of drawing back the curtain andfeasting his eyes upon the black backs of the books, and the black-letter brochures that lay by them. There were scarcely thirty, yet hegloated on them as on an inexhaustible store, while Will, whistlingwonder at his taste, opined that since some one was there to look afterthe stove, and the iron pot on it, he might go out and have a turn atball with Hob and Martin.

  Ambrose was glad to be left to go over his coming feast. There wasLatin, English, and, alas! baffling Dutch. High or Low it was all thesame to him. What excited his curiosity most was the _EnchiridionMilitis Christiani_ of Erasmus--in Latin of course, and that he couldeasily read--but almost equally exciting was a Greek and Latinvocabulary; or again, a very thin book in which he recognised the NewTestament in the Vulgate. He had heard chapters of it read from thegraceful stone pulpit overhanging the refectory at Beaulieu, and, ofcourse, the Gospels and Epistles at mass, but they had been read withlittle expression and no attention; and that Sunday's discourse hadfilled him with eagerness to look farther; but the mere reading thetitles of the books was pleasure enough for the day, and his master wasat home before he had fixed his mind on anything. Perhaps this was aswell, for Lucas advised him what to begin with, and how to divide hisstudies so as to gain a knowledge of the Greek, his great ambition, andalso to read the Scripture.

  The master was almost as much delighted as the scholar, and it was nottill the curfew was beginning to sound that Ambrose could tear himselfaway. It was still daylight, and the door of the next dwelling wasopen. There, sitting on the ground cross-legged, in an attitude such asAmbrose had never seen, was a magnificent old man, with a huge longwhite beard, wearing, indeed, the usual dress of a Londoner of the lowerclass, but the gown flowed round him in a grand and patriarchal manner,corresponding with his noble, somewhat aquiline features; and behind himAmbrose thought he caught a glimpse of the shy fawn he had seen in themorning.