The Herd Boy and His HermitYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Herd Boy and His Hermit
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Clifford, Henry de Clifford, 14th lord, 1455?-1523 -- Fiction; Henry VI, King of England, 1421-1471 -- Fiction
‘Do not guess, maiden,’ she said. ‘If thou wouldst not bring evil on the
lad that found thee, and the roof that sheltered thee, guess not, yea,
and utter not a word save that thou hast lain in a shepherd’s hut.
Forget all, as though thou hadst slept in the castle on the hill that
fades away with the day.’
She ended hastily, for her husband was coming up with a rough pony’s
halter in his hand. He was in haste to be off, lest a search for the
lost child might extend to his abode, and his gloomy displeasure and
ill-masked uneasiness reduced every-one to silence in his presence.
‘Up and away, lady wench!’ he said. ‘No time to lose if you are to be at
Greystone ere night! Thou Hal, thou lazy lubber, go with Piers and the
sheep--’
‘I shall go with you,’ replied Hal, in a grave tone of resolution. ‘I
will only go within view of the convent, but go with you I will.’
He spoke with a decided tone of authority, and Hob Hogward muttered a
little to himself, but yielded.
Hal assisted the young lady to mount, and they set off along the track
of the moss, driving the cows, sheep, and goats before them--not a very
considerable number--till they came to another hut, much smaller and
more rude than that where they had left Mother Doll.
Piers was a wild, shaggy-haired lad, with a sheepskin over his
shoulders, and legs bare below the knee, and to him the charge of
the flock was committed, with signs which he evidently understood and
replied to with a gruff ‘Ay, ay!’ The three went on the way, over the
slope of a hill, partly clothed with heather, holly and birch trees, as
it rose above the moss. Hob led the pony, and there was something in his
grim air and manner that hindered any conversation between the two young
people. Only Hal from time to time gathered a flower for the young lady,
scabious and globe flowers, and once a very pink wild rose, mingled
with white ones. Lady Anne took them with a meaning smile, and a merry
gesture, as though she were going to brush Hal’s face with the petals.
Hal laughed, and said, ‘You will make them shed.’
‘Well and good, so the disputes be shed,’ said Anne, with more meaning
than perhaps Hal understood. ‘And the white overcomes the red.’
‘May be the red will have its way with spring--’
But there Hob looked round on them, and growled out, ‘Have done with
that folly! What has a herd boy like thee to do with roses and frippery?
Come away from the lady’s rein. Thou art over-held to thrust thyself
upon her.’
Nevertheless, as Hal fell back, the dark eyes shot a meaning glance
at him, and the party went on in silence, except that now and then
Hob launched at Hal an order that he endeavoured to render savagely
contemptuous and harsh, so that Lady Anne interfered to say, ‘Nay, the
poor lad is doing no harm.’
‘Scathe enough,’ answered Hob. ‘He always will be doing ill if he can.
Heed him not, lady, it only makes him the more malapert.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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