News
of his death, chancing to me in a far-off land, brought me home. And
truly, it was home indeed, at last! Peace and content, where always
there had been turbulence and strain. Father, I tell you this because
I know my gentle mother feared you did not understand, and that you may
have thought her love for you had failed."
Symon of Worcester smiled.
"Dear lad," he said, "I understood."
"Ah why," cried Hugh, with sudden passion, "why should a woman's whole
life be spoiled, and other lives be darkened and made sad, just by the
angry, churlish, sullen whims of----"
"Hush, boy!" said the Bishop, quickly. "You speak of your father, and
you name the Dead. Something dies in the Living, each time they speak
evil of the Dead. I knew your father; and, though he loved me not,
yet, to be honest, I must say this of him: Sir Hugo was a good man and
true; upright, and a man of honour. He carried his shield untarnished.
If he was feared by his friends, he was also feared by his foes. Brave
he was and fearless. One thing he lacked; and often, alas, they who
lack just one thing, lack all.
"Hugo d'Argent knew not love for his fellow-men. To be a man, was to
earn his frown; all things human called forth his disdain. To view the
same landscape, breathe the same air, in fact walk the same earth as
he, was to stand in his way, and raise his ire. Yet in his harsh,
vexed manner he loved his wife, and loved his little son.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191