would have been no miracle to Hugh if flowers had sprung from the
rush-strewn floors beneath the tread of lovely Mistress Alice.

Never did 'prentice long to distinguish himself in the eyes of his
lady-love so ardently as Hugh. Sometimes he pictured to himself
the house taking fire by night, and he, when all drew back in fear,
rushing through flame and smoke, and bearing her from the ruins in
his arms. At other times he thought of a rising of fierce rebels,
an attack upon the city, a strong assault upon the Bowyer's house
in particular, and he falling on the threshold pierced with
numberless wounds in defence of Mistress Alice. If he could only
enact some prodigy of valour, do some wonderful deed, and let her
know that she had inspired it, he thought he could die contented.

Sometimes the Bowyer and his daughter would go out to supper with a
worthy citizen at the fashionable hour of six o'clock, and on such
occasions Hugh, wearing his blue 'prentice cloak as gallantly as
'prentice might, would attend with a lantern and his trusty club to
escort them home. These were the brightest moments of his life.
To hold the light while Mistress Alice picked her steps, to touch
her hand as he helped her over broken ways, to have her leaning on
his arm, - it sometimes even came to that, - this was happiness
indeed!

When the nights were fair, Hugh followed in the rear, his eyes
riveted on the graceful figure of the Bowyer's daughter as she and
the old man moved on before him. So they threaded the narrow
winding streets of the city, now passing beneath the overhanging
gables of old wooden houses whence creaking signs projected into
the street, and now emerging from some dark and frowning gateway