"Aye," said Sir James, twisting his mustaches more vigorouslythan ever. "So soon as thy father heard of that prank, he wrotestraightway to my Lord that he should put a stop to what might intime have bred mischief.""Sir," said Myles, in an almost breathless voice, "I know not howto believe all these things, or whether I be awake ora-dreaming.""Thou be'st surely enough awake," answered the old man; "butthere are other matters yet to be told. My Lord thinketh, asothers of us do--Lord George and myself--that it is now time forthee to put away thy boyish follies, and learn those thingsappertaining to manhood. Thou hast been here a year now, and hasthad freedom to do as thou might list; but, boy"--and the oldwarrior spoke seriously, almost solemnly--"upon thee doth restmatters of such great import that did I tell them to thee thoucouldst not grasp them. My Lord deems that thou hast, mayhap,promise beyond the common of men; ne'theless it remaineth yet tobe seen an he be right; it is yet to test whether that promisemay be fulfilled. Next Monday I and Sir Everard Willoughby takethee in hand to begin training thee in the knowledge and the useof the jousting lance, of arms, and of horsemanship. Thou art togo to Ralph Smith, and have him fit a suit of plain armor to theewhich he hath been charged to make for thee against this time. Soget thee gone, think well over all these matters, and preparethyself by next Monday. But stay, sirrah," he added, as Myles,dazed and bewildered, turned to obey; "breathe to no living soulwhat I ha' told thee--that my Lord is thy friend--neither speakof anything concerning him. Such is his own heavy command laidupon thee."Then Myles turned again without a word to leave the room. But ashe reached the door Sir James stopped him a second time.
"Stay!" he called. "I had nigh missed telling thee somewhat else.
My Lord hath made thee a present this morning that thou wottestnot of. It is"--then he stopped for a few moments, perhaps toenjoy the full flavor of what he had to say--"it is a greatFlemish horse of true breed and right mettle; a horse such as aknight of the noblest strain might be proud to call his own.
Myles Falworth, thou wert born upon a lucky day!""Sir," cried Myles, and then stopped short. Then, "Sir," he criedagain, "didst thou say it--the horse--was to be mine?""Aye, it is to be thine."
"My very own?"
"Thy very own."
How Myles Falworth left that place he never knew. He was like onein some strange, some wonderful dream. He walked upon air, andhis heart was so full of joy and wonder and amazement that itthrilled almost to agony. Of course his first thought was ofGascoyne. How he ever found him he never could tell, but find himhe did.
"Come, Francis!" he cried, "I have that to tell thee somarvellous that had it come upon me from paradise it could not bemore strange."Then he dragged him away to their Eyry--it had been many a longday since they had been there--and to all his friend's speeches,to all his wondering questions, he answered never a word untilthey had climbed the stairs, and so come to their old haunt. Thenhe spoke.
"Sit thee down, Francis," said he, "till I tell thee that whichpasseth wonder." As Gascoyne obeyed, he himself stood lookingabout him. "This is the last time I shall ever come hither," saidhe. And thereupon he poured out his heart to his listening friendin the murmuring solitude of the airy height. He did not speak ofthe Earl, but of the wonderful new life that had thus suddenlyopened before him, with its golden future of limitless hopes, ofdazzling possibilities, of heroic ambitions. He told everything,walking up and down the while--for he could not remain quiet--hischeeks glowing and his eyes sparkling.
Gascoyne sat quite still, staring straight before him. He knewthat his friend was ruffling eagle pinions for a flight in whichhe could never hope to follow, and somehow his heart ached, forhe knew that this must be the beginning of the end of the dear,delightful friendship of the year past.
