‘And am I then a baron--a lord?’ said the boy. ‘Great lords have books. Were there not some big ones on the hall window seats? Did not Brother Eldred begin to teach me my letters? I would that I could go on to learn more!’ ‘Oh, I would that thou couldst have all knightly training, and learn to use sword and lance like thy gallant father!’ ‘Nay, but I saw a poor man fall off his horse and lie hurt, I do not want those hard, cruel ways. And my father was slain. Must a lord go to battle?’ ‘Boy, boy, thou wilt not belie thy Clifford blood,’ cried the lady in consternation, which was increased when he said, ‘I have no mind to go out and kill folks or be killed. I had rather mark the stars and tend my sheep.’ ‘Alack! alack! This comes of keeping company with the sheep. That my son, and my lord’s son, should be infected with their sheepish nature!’ ‘Never fear, madam,’ said Hob. ‘When occasion comes, and strength is grown, his blood will show itself.’ ‘If I could only give him knightly breeding!’ sighed the lady. ‘Sir Lancelot may find the way. I cannot see him grow up a mere shepherd boy.’ ‘Content you, madam,’ said Hob. ‘Never did I see a shepherd boy with the wisdom and the thought there is in that curly pate!’ ‘Wisdom! thought!’ muttered the lady. ‘Those did not save our good King, only made him a saint. I had rather hear the boy talk of sword and lance than prate of books and stars! And that wench, whom to our misfortune thou didst find! What didst tell her?’ ‘I told her nought, mother, for I had nought to tell.’ ‘She scented mystery, though,’ said Hob. ‘She saw he was no herd boy.’ ‘Nay? Though he holds himself like a lout untrained! Would that I could have thee in hand, my son, to make thee meet to tread in thy brave father’s steps! But now, comrade of sheep thou art, and I fear me thou wilt ever be! But that maid, I trust that she perceived nothing in thy bearing or speech?’ ‘She will not betray whatever she perceived,’ said Hal stoutly. The wood was by this time nearly past, and the moment of parting had come. The lady had decided on going on foot to the little grey stone church whose low square tower could be seen rising like another rock. Thither she could repair in her plaid, and by-and-by throw it off, and return in her own character to the castle, as though she had gone forth to worship there. When lifted off the shaggy pony she threw her arms round Hal, kissed him passionately, and bade him never breathe a word of it, but never to forget that a baron he was, and bound to be a good brave knight, fit to avenge his father’s death! Hal came to understand from Dolly’s explanations that his recent abode had been on the estate of his grandfather, Baron de Vesci, at Londesborough, but his mother had since married Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, and had intimated that her boy should be removed thither as soon as might be expedient, and therefore the house on the Yorkshire moor had been broken up. CHAPTER VI. -- A CAUTIOUS STEPFATHER