Foxholme Hall, and Other Tales. Kingston William Henry Giles

his education. Not that the knight had any great esteem for the learning of the father, but simply that he knew of no one else under whom he could place his son.

      Father Mathew was not a learned man, but he had cleverness enough to conceal his ignorance, and Sir Herbert, who, though a brave soldier, was no clerk, was not likely to find it out. If the truth must be said, the curate was himself fonder of hawk and hound than of his books, and it was whispered that if a fat pullet came in his way, even on a fast day, he did not always turn aside from the temptation. He could, however, do more than many of his brethren, for he could not only read his breviary, but write a neat hand and copy manuscripts with precision – an art he had learned in the cloister, and which was still the chief mode of multiplying books; for printing had only been introduced into England about twenty years before. Such was Father Mathew; in the main, with all his faults, an honest man. Roger, who had more shrewdness than his late lord, was not altogether satisfied with him, but he consoled himself with the thought that his young charge might have had a worse preceptor when he saw him growing into a fine handsome young man, with many noble and generous qualities, though certainly more addicted to field sports and athletic exercises than to the study of any of those branches of knowledge by which he might restore the fallen fortunes of his house.

      Meantime, Roger was not unmindful of his purpose to secure a rich wife for his young lord. He looked about in every direction, far and near; but the only damsel he could hear of at all likely to prove suitable was the Lady Barbara, the only child of the stout Baron Fitz Osbert. She was said to be fair to look on, and pious and good, and possessed of all the accomplishments which distinguished well-brought-up young ladies in those days. There were difficulties to be overcome, however. Herbert had not seen her, and might not be willing to wed her when he did. Her father, the baron, had been a stout Lancastrian, and, although the rival houses of York and Lancaster were now united under Tudor rule, he was very likely to be prejudiced against the son of an old opponent. While the honest Roger was travelling about the country and troubling himself greatly in search of the desired heiress, an event occurred which seemed likely to bring his schemes to naught. Herbert was one day returning from hawking – the quarry having led him a long distance from home – when, as he was passing through a wood of some extent, he heard a cry and loud shouts for help. Urging on his steed over the green sward, he saw two persons on horseback endeavouring to escape from three armed men on foot. That the latter were robbers he had little doubt – Cornishmen, from Lord Audley’s wild troops, after the fight at Blackheath. One of the persons on horseback was a country damsel, and, from the panniers between which she sat, it appeared she had been to dispose of the produce of her farm at market; the other was a serving-man, or farm-servant, apparently, for he also had a number of baskets slung about his horse. He had a bow at his back and a trusty sword by his side, with which he might, if necessary, defend his young mistress. These ideas passed through Herbert’s mind the moment the scene appeared before him. The serving-man had drawn his sword, and was endeavouring to keep the robbers at bay. The robbers, however, seemed to be laughing at his efforts, and while one of them was keeping him in play, the other two had run round on either side, and were on the point of seizing the reins of the damsel’s pony, when Herbert appeared. He dashed forward, and, with the impetuosity of youth, without asking any questions, cut down one of the robbers, and was about to treat the other in the same way when he made his escape between the trees. The serving-man had in the meantime given a good account of the robber who had attacked him, who lay wounded and, to all appearance, dying on the ground. He had, however, first contrived to give honest Rolfe a severe cut on the arm and another on the side, which would probably have compelled him to yield to the attacks of the other ruffians had not young Herbert de Beauville come to his assistance. The damsel had wonderfully maintained her self-possession during the events which have been described; but when Herbert reached her, and, taking her hand, assured her that all danger was past, her pale cheeks and quivering lips told him that she could not longer contain her feelings. He helped her to dismount, and placing her on the trunk of a fallen tree, endeavoured to calm her spirits, while Rolfe limped off to fill a bowl, which he had just purchased in the market, with water from a neighbouring brook. This revived the damsel, and, as soon as she was able to speak, after thanking Herbert for the service he had rendered her, she told him that her name was Gertrude Alwyn, and that she lived with her father, stout John Alwyn, a yeoman, on his farm nearly a league off.

      “Then I must offer my services to escort you to your home, sweet Mistress Gertrude,” said Herbert, in as courteous a tone as he would have used towards a princess. “I can take no denial, as it is unbefitting that you should continue your journey alone. Mayhap some other robbers may meet you, or you may be beset by some other danger.”

      Whatever might have been the fears of the damsel, she was not unwilling that so handsome and courteous a young man should escort her homewards. Not till honest Rolfe had come up to hold her reins while she again mounted, did she and Herbert discover how badly he had been hurt by the robber who had attacked him. He made light of his wounds to save his young mistress pain, but she refused to proceed till they were bound up, and some further time was lost in this operation. Herbert rode by the side of Gertrude, conversing with her as he went. He thought that he had never seen so fair a damsel, so gentle and so lovable, while she was certain that she had never met so kind and courteous and noble a youth. It was late when they reached Donington Farm. Master Alwyn, the owner, did not seem much surprised to see his daughter escorted by so gay a cavalier as young Herbert de Beauville. Having thanked him warmly for the protection he had afforded to his daughter, and her deliverance from the danger which had overtaken her, with much courtesy he invited him to remain to supper, which meal was even then being placed on the table.

      Young Herbert was not unwilling to accept the invitation, seeing that already his heart, or fancy, or whatever organ or sense by which young men are moved, had already been captivated by the bright eyes and sweet face of the fair Gertrude. There was a bright moon about to shine, and he had no tender mother or loving sisters who would be anxious at his non-appearance at the usual hour. Gertrude did not omit to tell her mother of the hurts Rolfe had received. On hearing this, the dame, with alacrity, examined them, dressing them with much skill, of the possession of which she was not a little proud.

      After this, three demure damsels and seven stout labouring men came into the hall, and took their seats at the table. They then ate in silence the messes which Mrs Alwyn served out to them. Master Alwyn, meantime, kept up a very pleasant conversation with his guest. He was evidently far superior in attainments to men generally of his position in life, for he could both read and write, and knew something of what was going forward in the world. In appearance he was not, however, superior to other yeomen or well-to-do farmers; and his dame, though evidently a notable thrifty housewife, was not above her class in manners or in information. As Herbert looked from one to the other, and then exchanged a few sentences with their daughter, he wondered how so fair a creature could have sprung from so rough a stock. He sat on, unwilling to leave the society of so charming a being, till at length he had no excuse for lingering longer.

      As he rode homeward, with his hawk sleeping on his shoulder, and his hounds by his side, his thoughts were so completely occupied with the fair Gertrude, that he reached the castle gates almost before he was aware of it. Good Roger was away on the errand which has been spoken of, and Father Mathew had never been wont to chide his pupil very severely. Now that he had come to man’s estate, he wisely abstained altogether from doing so. Herbert was therefore accustomed frankly to tell him all that occurred. He accordingly described how he had met the damsel and her servant, and saved them from robbers.

      “You have acted bravely, my son, and you deem the damsel fair to look on?” said Father Mathew.

      The last words were uttered quite in an indifferent tone, as if the matter were of very little consequence.

      “Oh yes; the damsel is perfectly beautiful,” exclaimed the youth, enthusiastically. “I have never seen one I could so devotedly love and adore.”

      The priest gave way to a low laugh, and remarked:

      “Perchance the next time you see her she may not appear so charming, and still less so the following. Methinks, too, that she is not such a one as the young lord of Beauville ought to wed.”

      “I have heard of noble knights wedding with maidens of low degree, whose beauty and rare