by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XXV. Hendon Hall.
As soon as Hendon and the King were out of sight of the constable, hisMajesty was instructed to hurry to a certain place outside the town, andwait there, whilst Hendon should go to the inn and settle his account.Half an hour later the two friends were blithely jogging eastward onHendon's sorry steeds. ?The King was warm and comfortable, now, forhe had cast his rags and clothed himself in the second-hand suit whichHendon had bought on London Bridge.
Hendon wished to guard against over-fatiguing the boy; he judged thathard journeys, irregular meals, and illiberal measures of sleep would bebad for his crazed mind; whilst rest, regularity, and moderate exercisewould be pretty sure to hasten its cure; he longed to see the strickenintellect made well again and its diseased visions driven out of thetormented little head; therefore he resolved to move by easy stagestoward the home whence he had so long been banished, instead of obeyingthe impulse of his impatience and hurrying along night and day.
When he and the King had journeyed about ten miles, they reached aconsiderable village, and halted there for the night, at a good inn.?The former relations were resumed; Hendon stood behind the King'schair, while he dined, and waited upon him; undressed him when he wasready for bed; then took the floor for his own quarters, and sleptathwart the door, rolled up in a blanket.
The next day, and the day after, they jogged lazily along talkingover the adventures they had met since their separation, and mightilyenjoying each other's narratives. ?Hendon detailed all his widewanderings in search of the King, and described how the archangel hadled him a fool's journey all over the forest, and taken him back tothe hut, finally, when he found he could not get rid of him. ?Then--hesaid--the old man went into the bedchamber and came staggering backlooking broken-hearted, and saying he had expected to find that the boyhad returned and laid down in there to rest, but it was not so. ?Hendonhad waited at the hut all day; hope of the King's return died out, then,and he departed upon the quest again.
"And old Sanctum Sanctorum _was_ truly sorry your highness came notback," said Hendon; "I saw it in his face."
"Marry I will never doubt _that_!" said the King--and then told his ownstory; after which, Hendon was sorry he had not destroyed the archangel.
During the last day of the trip, Hendon's spirits were soaring. Histongue ran constantly. ?He talked about his old father, and his brotherArthur, and told of many things which illustrated their high andgenerous characters; he went into loving frenzies over his Edith,and was so glad-hearted that he was even able to say some gentle andbrotherly things about Hugh. ?He dwelt a deal on the coming meetingat Hendon Hall; what a surprise it would be to everybody, and what anoutburst of thanksgiving and delight there would be.
It was a fair region, dotted with cottages and orchards, and the roadled through broad pasture lands whose receding expanses, marked withgentle elevations and depressions, suggested the swelling and subsidingundulations of the sea. ?In the afternoon the returning prodigal madeconstant deflections from his course to see if by ascending some hillockhe might not pierce the distance and catch a glimpse of his home. ?Atlast he was successful, and cried out excitedly--
"There is the village, my Prince, and there is the Hall close by! Youmay see the towers from here; and that wood there--that is my father'spark. Ah, _now_ thou'lt know what state and grandeur be! A house withseventy rooms--think of that!--and seven and twenty servants! ?A bravelodging for such as we, is it not so? ?Come, let us speed--my impatiencewill not brook further delay."
All possible hurry was made; still, it was after three o'clock beforethe village was reached. ?The travellers scampered through it, Hendon'stongue going all the time. ?"Here is the church--covered with the sameivy--none gone, none added." ?"Yonder is the inn, the old Red Lion,--andyonder is the market-place." ?"Here is the Maypole, and here thepump--nothing is altered; nothing but the people, at any rate; ten yearsmake a change in people; some of these I seem to know, but none knowme." ?So his chat ran on. The end of the village was soon reached; thenthe travellers struck into a crooked, narrow road, walled in with tallhedges, and hurried briskly along it for half a mile, then passed into avast flower garden through an imposing gateway, whose huge stone pillarsbore sculptured armorial devices. ?A noble mansion was before them.
"Welcome to Hendon Hall, my King!" exclaimed Miles. ?"Ah, 'tis a greatday! ?My father and my brother, and the Lady Edith will be so mad withjoy that they will have eyes and tongue for none but me in the firsttransports of the meeting, and so thou'lt seem but coldly welcomed--butmind it not; 'twill soon seem otherwise; for when I say thou art myward, and tell them how costly is my love for thee, thou'lt see themtake thee to their breasts for Miles Hendon's sake, and make their houseand hearts thy home for ever after!"
The next moment Hendon sprang to the ground before the great door,helped the King down, then took him by the hand and rushed within. A fewsteps brought him to a spacious apartment; he entered, seated the Kingwith more hurry than ceremony, then ran toward a young man who sat at awriting-table in front of a generous fire of logs.
"Embrace me, Hugh," he cried, "and say thou'rt glad I am come again! andcall our father, for home is not home till I shall touch his hand, andsee his face, and hear his voice once more!"
But Hugh only drew back, after betraying a momentary surprise, and benta grave stare upon the intruder--a stare which indicated somewhat ofoffended dignity, at first, then changed, in response to some inwardthought or purpose, to an expression of marvelling curiosity, mixed witha real or assumed compassion. ?Presently he said, in a mild voice--
"Thy wits seem touched, poor stranger; doubtless thou hast sufferedprivations and rude buffetings at the world's hands; thy looks and dressbetoken it. ?Whom dost thou take me to be?"
"Take thee? ?Prithee for whom else than whom thou art? ?I take thee tobe Hugh Hendon," said Miles, sharply.
The other continued, in the same soft tone--
"And whom dost thou imagine thyself to be?"
"Imagination hath nought to do with it! ?Dost thou pretend thou knowestme not for thy brother Miles Hendon?"
An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Hugh's face, and heexclaimed--
"What! thou art not jesting? can the dead come to life? ?God be praisedif it be so! ?Our poor lost boy restored to our arms after all thesecruel years! ?Ah, it seems too good to be true, it _is_ too good to betrue--I charge thee, have pity, do not trifle with me! ?Quick--come tothe light--let me scan thee well!"
He seized Miles by the arm, dragged him to the window, and began todevour him from head to foot with his eyes, turning him this way andthat, and stepping briskly around him and about him to prove himfrom all points of view; whilst the returned prodigal, all aglow withgladness, smiled, laughed, and kept nodding his head and saying--
"Go on, brother, go on, and fear not; thou'lt find nor limb nor featurethat cannot bide the test. ?Scour and scan me to thy content, my goodold Hugh--I am indeed thy old Miles, thy same old Miles, thy lostbrother, is't not so? ?Ah, 'tis a great day--I _said_ 'twas a great day!?Give me thy hand, give me thy cheek--lord, I am like to die of veryjoy!"
He was about to throw himself upon his brother; but Hugh put up his handin dissent, then dropped his chin mournfully upon his breast, sayingwith emotion--
"Ah, God of his mercy give me strength to bear this grievousdisappointment!"
Miles, amazed, could not speak for a moment; then he found his tongue,and cried out--
"_What_ disappointment? ?Am I not thy brother?"
Hugh shook his head sadly, and said--
"I pray heaven it may prove so, and that other eyes may find theresemblances that are hid from mine. ?Alack, I fear me the letter spokebut too truly."
"What letter?"
"One that came from over sea, some six or seven years ago. ?It said mybrother died in battle."
"It was a lie! ?Call thy father--he will know me."
"One may not call the dead."
"Dead?" Miles's voice was subdued, an
d his lips trembled. ?"My fatherdead!--oh, this is heavy news. ?Half my new joy is withered now.?Prithee let me see my brother Arthur--he will know me; he will know meand console me."
"He, also, is dead."
"God be merciful to me, a stricken man! ?Gone,--both gone--the worthytaken and the worthless spared, in me! ?Ah! I crave your mercy!--do notsay the Lady Edith--"
"Is dead? ?No, she lives."
"Then, God be praised, my joy is whole again! ?Speed thee, brother--lether come to me! ?An' _she_ say I am not myself--but she will not; no,no, _she_ will know me, I were a fool to doubt it. Bring her--bring theold servants; they, too, will know me."
"All are gone but five--Peter, Halsey, David, Bernard, and Margaret."
So saying, Hugh left the room. ?Miles stood musing a while, then beganto walk the floor, muttering--
"The five arch-villains have survived the two-and-twenty leal andhonest--'tis an odd thing."
He continued walking back and forth, muttering to himself; he hadforgotten the King entirely. ?By-and-by his Majesty said gravely, andwith a touch of genuine compassion, though the words themselves werecapable of being interpreted ironically--
"Mind not thy mischance, good man; there be others in the world whoseidentity is denied, and whose claims are derided. ?Thou hast company."
"Ah, my King," cried Hendon, colouring slightly, "do not thou condemnme--wait, and thou shalt see. ?I am no impostor--she will say it; youshall hear it from the sweetest lips in England. ?I an impostor? ?Why, Iknow this old hall, these pictures of my ancestors, and all these thingsthat are about us, as a child knoweth its own nursery. ?Here was I bornand bred, my lord; I speak the truth; I would not deceive thee; andshould none else believe, I pray thee do not _thou_ doubt me--I couldnot bear it."
"I do not doubt thee," said the King, with a childlike simplicity andfaith.
"I thank thee out of my heart!" exclaimed Hendon with a fervency whichshowed that he was touched. ?The King added, with the same gentlesimplicity--
"Dost thou doubt _me_?"
A guilty confusion seized upon Hendon, and he was grateful that the dooropened to admit Hugh, at that moment, and saved him the necessity ofreplying.
A beautiful lady, richly clothed, followed Hugh, and after her cameseveral liveried servants. ?The lady walked slowly, with her head bowedand her eyes fixed upon the floor. ?The face was unspeakably sad. ?MilesHendon sprang forward, crying out--
"Oh, my Edith, my darling--"
But Hugh waved him back, gravely, and said to the lady--
"Look upon him. ?Do you know him?"
At the sound of Miles's voice the woman had started slightly, and hercheeks had flushed; she was trembling now. ?She stood still, during animpressive pause of several moments; then slowly lifted up her head andlooked into Hendon's eyes with a stony and frightened gaze; the bloodsank out of her face, drop by drop, till nothing remained but the greypallor of death; then she said, in a voice as dead as the face, "I knowhim not!" and turned, with a moan and a stifled sob, and tottered out ofthe room.
Miles Hendon sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands.After a pause, his brother said to the servants--
"You have observed him. ?Do you know him?"
They shook their heads; then the master said--
"The servants know you not, sir. ?I fear there is some mistake. You haveseen that my wife knew you not."
"Thy _wife_!" ?In an instant Hugh was pinned to the wall, with an irongrip about his throat. ?"Oh, thou fox-hearted slave, I see it all!?Thou'st writ the lying letter thyself, and my stolen bride and goodsare its fruit. ?There--now get thee gone, lest I shame mine honourablesoldiership with the slaying of so pitiful a mannikin!"
Hugh, red-faced, and almost suffocated, reeled to the nearest chair, andcommanded the servants to seize and bind the murderous stranger. ?Theyhesitated, and one of them said--
"He is armed, Sir Hugh, and we are weaponless."
"Armed! ?What of it, and ye so many? ?Upon him, I say!"
But Miles warned them to be careful what they did, and added--
"Ye know me of old--I have not changed; come on, an' it like you."
This reminder did not hearten the servants much; they still held back.
"Then go, ye paltry cowards, and arm yourselves and guard the doors,whilst I send one to fetch the watch!" said Hugh. ?He turned at thethreshold, and said to Miles, "You'll find it to your advantage tooffend not with useless endeavours at escape."
"Escape? ?Spare thyself discomfort, an' that is all that troubles thee.For Miles Hendon is master of Hendon Hall and all its belongings. ?Hewill remain--doubt it not."
