And so ended Myles Falworth's boyhood. Three years followed,during which he passed through that state which immediatelyfollows boyhood in all men's lives--a time when they are neitherlads nor grown men, but youths passing from the one to the otherperiod through what is often an uncouth and uncomfortable age.
He had fancied, when he talked with Gascoyne in the Eyry thattime, that he was to become a man all at once; he felt just thenthat he had forever done with boyish things. But that is not theway it happens in men's lives. Changes do not come so suddenlyand swiftly as that, but by little and little. For three or fourdays, maybe, he went his new way of life big with the greatchange that had come upon him, and then, now in this and now inthat, he drifted back very much into his old ways of boyishdoings. As was said, one's young days do not end all at once,even when they be so suddenly and sharply shaken, and Myles wasnot different from others. He had been stirred to the core bythat first wonderful sight of the great and glorious life ofmanhood opening before him, but he had yet many a sport to enjoy,many a game to play, many a boisterous romp to riot in thedormitory, many an expedition to make to copse and spinney andriver on days when he was off duty, and when permission had beengranted.
Nevertheless, there was a great and vital change in his life; achange which he hardly felt or realized. Even in resuming his oldlife there was no longer the same vitality, the same zest, thesame enjoyment in all these things. It seemed as though they wereno longer a part of himself. The savor had gone from them, andby-and-by it was pleasanter to sit looking on at the sports andthe games of the younger lads than to take active part in them.
These three years of his life that had thus passed had been veryfull; full mostly of work, grinding and monotonous; of trainingdull, dry, laborious. For Sir James Lee was a taskmaster as hardas iron and seemingly as cold as a stone. For two, perhaps forthree, weeks Myles entered into his new exercises with all theenthusiasm that novelty brings; but these exercises hardly varieda tittle from day to day, and soon became a duty, and finally ahard and grinding task. He used, in the earlier days of hiscastle life, to hate the dull monotony of the tri-weekly hackingat the pels with a heavy broadsword as he hated nothing else; butnow, though he still had that exercise to perform, it was almosta relief from the heavy dulness of riding, riding, riding in thetilt-yard with shield and lance--couch--recover--en passant.
But though he had nowadays but little time for boyish plays andescapades, his life was not altogether without relaxation. Nowand then he was permitted to drive in mock battle with other ofthe younger knights and bachelors in the paddock near the outerwalls. It was a still more welcome change in the routine of hislife when, occasionally, he would break a light lance in thetilting-court with Sir Everard Willoughby; Lord George, perhaps,and maybe one or two others of the Hall folk, looking on.
Then one gilded day, when Lord Dudleigh was visiting at Devlen,Myles ran a course with a heavier lance in the presence of theEarl, who came down to the tilt-yard with his guest to see theyoung novitiate ride against Sir Everard. He did his best, anddid it well. Lord Dudleigh praised his poise and carriage, andLord George, who was present, gave him an approving smile andnod. But the Earl of Mackworth only sat stroking his beardimpassively, as was his custom. Myles would have given much toknow his thoughts.
In all these years Sir James Lee almost never gave any expressioneither of approbation or disapproval--excepting when Mylesexhibited some carelessness or oversight. Then his words weresharp and harsh enough. More than once Myles's heart failed him,and bitter discouragement took possession of him; then nothingbut his bull-dog tenacity and stubbornness brought him out fromthe despondency of the dark hours.
"Sir," he burst out one day, when his heart was heavy with somefailure, "tell me, I beseech thee, do I get me any of skill atall? Is it in me ever to make a worthy knight, fit to hold lanceand sword with other men, or am I only soothly a dull heavyblock, worth naught of any good?""Thou art a fool, sirrah!" answered Sir James, in his grimmesttones. "Thinkest thou to learn all of knightly prowess in a yearand a half? Wait until thou art ripe, and then I will tell theeif thou art fit to couch a lance or ride a course with a rightknight.""Thou art an old bear!" muttered Myles to himself, as the oldone-eyed knight turned on his heel and strode away. "Beshrew me!
an I show thee not that I am as worthy to couch a lance as thouone of these fine days!"However, during the last of the three years the grinding routineof his training had not been quite so severe as at first. Hisexercises took him more often out into the fields, and it wasduring this time of his knightly education that he sometimes rodeagainst some of the castle knights in friendly battle with swordor lance or wooden mace. In these encounters he always held hisown; and held it more than well, though, in his boyishsimplicity, he was altogether unconscious of his own skill,address, and strength. Perhaps it was his very honest modestythat made him so popular and so heartily liked by all.
He had by this time risen to the place of head squire or chiefbachelor, holding the same position that Walter Blunt hadoccupied when he himself had first come, a raw country boy, toDevlen. The lesser squires and pages fairly worshipped him as ahero, albeit imposing upon his good-nature. All took a pride inhis practice in knightly exercises, and fabulous tales werecurrent among the young fry concerning his strength and skill.
