I followed, whistling and
watching. It greatly delighted the bird to find himself on turf.
There had been rain. The grass was wet. Presently a rash worm,
gliding from its hole, adventured forth. The starling ran to the worm,
calling it 'Hugh.' 'Hugh! Hugh!' he cried, and tugged it from the
earth. 'Hugh! Hugh!' and pecked it, where helpless it lay squirming.
Then, shouting 'Hugh!' once more, gobbled it down. I stood with heavy
heart, for I had thought that starling loved me with a true, personal
love, when he ran at my approach shouting my name. Yet now I knew it
was the food I carried, he called 'Hugh'; it was the food, not me, he
loved. Glad was I when, his wing grown strong, he flew away. It cut
me to the heart to hear the worms, the grubs, the snails, the
caterpillars, all called 'Hugh'!"
The Bishop smiled, then sighed. "Poor little eager heart," he said,
"learning so hard a lesson, all alone! Yet is it a lesson, lad, sooner
or later learned in sadness by all generous hearts. . . . And now,
leaving the past, with all its memories, let us return to the present,
and face the uncertain future. Also, dear Knight, I must ask you to
remember, even when we are alone, that your old friend, Father
Gervaise, in his brown habit, lies at the bottom of the ocean; yet that
your new friend, Symon of Worcester, holds you and your interests very
near his heart."
The Bishop put out his hand.
Hugh seized and kissed it, knowing this was his farewell to Father
Gervaise.
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