Chapter XXV. Hendon Hall.

by Mark Twain

　　As soon as Hendon and the King were out of sight of the constable,his Majesty was instructed to hurry to a certain place outside thetown, and wait there, whilst Hendon should go to the inn andsettle his account. Half an hour later the two friends wereblithely jogging eastward on Hendon's sorry steeds. The King waswarm and comfortable, now, for he had cast his rags and clothedhimself in the second-hand suit which Hendon had bought on LondonBridge.Hendon wished to guard against over-fatiguing the boy; he judgedthat hard journeys, irregular meals, and illiberal measures ofsleep would be bad for his crazed mind; whilst rest, regularity,and moderate exercise would be pretty sure to hasten its cure; helonged to see the stricken intellect made well again and itsdiseased visions driven out of the tormented little head;therefore he resolved to move by easy stages toward the homewhence he had so long been banished, instead of obeying theimpulse 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 goodinn. The former relations were resumed; Hendon stood behind theKing's chair, while he dined, and waited upon him; undressed himwhen he was ready for bed; then took the floor for his ownquarters, and slept athwart 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, andmightily enjoying each other's narratives. Hendon detailed allhis wide wanderings in search of the King, and described how thearchangel had led him a fool's journey all over the forest, andtaken him back to the hut, finally, when he found he could not getrid of him. Then--he said--the old man went into the bedchamberand came staggering back looking broken-hearted, and saying he hadexpected to find that the boy had returned and laid down in thereto rest, but it was not so. Hendon had waited at the hut all day;hope of the King's return died out, then, and he departed upon thequest 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 hisown story; after which, Hendon was sorry he had not destroyed thearchangel.During the last day of the trip, Hendon's spirits were soaring.His tongue ran constantly. He talked about his old father, andhis brother Arthur, and told of many things which illustratedtheir high and generous characters; he went into loving frenziesover his Edith, and was so glad-hearted that he was even able tosay some gentle and brotherly things about Hugh. He dwelt a dealon the coming meeting at Hendon Hall; what a surprise it would beto everybody, and what an outburst of thanksgiving and delightthere would be.It was a fair region, dotted with cottages and orchards, and theroad led through broad pasture lands whose receding expanses,marked with gentle elevations and depressions, suggested theswelling and subsiding undulations of the sea. In the afternoonthe returning prodigal made constant deflections from his courseto see if by ascending some hillock he might not pierce thedistance and catch a glimpse of his home. At last he wassuccessful, and cried out excitedly--"There is the village, my Prince, and there is the Hall close by!You may see the towers from here; and that wood there--that is myfather's park. Ah, now thou'lt know what state and grandeur be!A house with seventy rooms--think of that!--and seven and twentyservants! A brave lodging for such as we, is it not so? Come,let us speed--my impatience will not brook further delay."All possible hurry was made; still, it was after three o'clockbefore the village was reached. The travellers scampered throughit, Hendon's tongue going all the time. "Here is the church--covered with the same ivy--none gone, none added." "Yonder is theinn, the old Red Lion,--and yonder is the market-place." "Here isthe Maypole, and here the pump--nothing is altered; nothing butthe people, at any rate; ten years make a change in people; someof these I seem to know, but none know me." So his chat ran on.The end of the village was soon reached; then the travellersstruck into a crooked, narrow road, walled in with tall hedges,and hurried briskly along it for half a mile, then passed into avast flower garden through an imposing gateway, whose huge stonepillars bore sculptured armorial devices. A noble mansion wasbefore them."Welcome to Hendon Hall, my King!" exclaimed Miles. "Ah, 'tis agreat day! My father and my brother, and the Lady Edith will beso mad with joy that they will have eyes and tongue for none butme in the first transports of the meeting, and so thou'lt seem butcoldly welcomed--but mind it not; 'twill soon seem otherwise; forwhen I say thou art my ward, and tell them how costly is my lovefor thee, thou'lt see them take thee to their breasts for MilesHendon's sake, and make their house and hearts thy home for everafter!"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 few steps brought him to a spacious apartment; he entered,seated the King with more hurry than ceremony, then ran toward ayoung man who sat at a writing-table in front of a generous fireof logs."Embrace me, Hugh," he cried, "and say thou'rt glad I am comeagain! and call our father, for home is not home till I shalltouch his hand, and see his face, and hear his voice once more!"But Hugh only drew back, after betraying a momentary surprise, andbent a grave stare upon the intruder--a stare which indicatedsomewhat of offended dignity, at first, then changed, in responseto some inward thought or purpose, to an expression of marvellingcuriosity, mixed with a real or assumed compassion. Presently hesaid, in a mild voice--"Thy wits seem touched, poor stranger; doubtless thou hastsuffered privations and rude buffetings at the world's hands; thylooks and dress betoken it. Whom dost thou take me to be?""Take thee? Prithee for whom else than whom thou art? I takethee to be 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 thouknowest me not for thy brother Miles Hendon?"An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Hugh's face, andhe exclaimed--"What! thou art not jesting? can the dead come to life? God bepraised if it be so! Our poor lost boy restored to our arms afterall these cruel years! Ah, it seems too good to be true, it istoo good to be true--I charge thee, have pity, do not trifle withme! Quick--come to the light--let me scan thee well!"He seized Miles by the arm, dragged him to the window, and beganto devour him from head to foot with his eyes, turning him thisway and that, and stepping briskly around him and about him toprove him from all points of view; whilst the returned prodigal,all aglow with gladness, smiled, laughed, and kept nodding hishead and saying--"Go on, brother, go on, and fear not; thou'lt find nor limb norfeature that cannot bide the test. Scour and scan me to thycontent, my good old Hugh--I am indeed thy old Miles, thy same oldMiles, thy lost brother, is't not so? Ah, 'tis a great day--Isaid 'twas a great day! Give me thy hand, give me thy cheek--lord, I am like to die of very joy!"He was about to throw himself upon his brother; but Hugh put uphis hand in dissent, then dropped his chin mournfully upon hisbreast, saying with emotion--"Ah, God of his mercy give me strength to bear this grievousdisappointment!"Miles, amazed, could not speak for a moment; then he found histongue, 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 letterspoke but too truly.""What letter?""One that came from over sea, some six or seven years ago. Itsaid my brother 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, and his lips trembled. "Myfather dead!--oh, this is heavy news. Half my new joy is witherednow. Prithee let me see my brother Arthur--he will know me; hewill know me and console me.""He, also, is dead.""God be merciful to me, a stricken man! Gone,--both gone--theworthy taken and the worthless spared, in me! Ah! I crave yourmercy""Is dead? No, she lives.""Then, God be praised, my joy is whole again! Speed thee,brother--let her come to me! An' she say I am not myself--but shewill not; no, no, she will know me, I were a fool to doubt it.Bring her--bring the old servants; they, too, will know me.""All are gone but five--Peter, Halsey, David, Bernard, andMargaret."So saying, Hugh left the room. Miles stood musing a while, thenbegan to 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,and with a touch of genuine compassion, though the wordsthemselves were capable of being interpreted ironically--"Mind not thy mischance, good man; there be others in the worldwhose identity is denied, and whose claims are derided. Thou hastcompany.""Ah, my King," cried Hendon, colouring slightly, "do not thoucondemn me--wait, and thou shalt see. I am no impostor--she willsay it; you shall hear it from the sweetest lips in England. I animpostor? Why, I know this old hall, these pictures of myancestors, and all these things that are about us, as a childknoweth its own nursery. Here was I born and bred, my lord; Ispeak the truth; I would not deceive thee; and should none elsebelieve, I pray thee do not thou doubt me--I could not bear it.""I do not doubt thee," said the King, with a childlike simplicityand faith."I thank thee out of my heart!" exclaimed Hendon with a fervencywhich showed that he was touched. The King added, with the samegentle simplicity--"Dost thou doubt me?"A guilty confusion seized upon Hendon, and he was grateful thatthe door opened to admit Hugh, at that moment, and saved him thenecessity of replying.A beautiful lady, richly clothed, followed Hugh, and after hercame several liveried servants. The lady walked slowly, with herhead bowed and her eyes fixed upon the floor. The face wasunspeakably sad. Miles Hendon 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, andher cheeks had flushed; she was trembling now. She stood still,during an impressive pause of several moments; then slowly liftedup her head and looked into Hendon's eyes with a stony andfrightened gaze; the blood sank out of her face, drop by drop,till nothing remained but the grey pallor of death; then she said,in a voice as dead as the face, "I know him not!" and turned, witha moan and a stifled sob, and tottered out of the room.Miles Hendon sank into a chair and covered his face with hishands. 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 have seen that my wife knew you not.""Thy wife!" In an instant Hugh was pinned to the wall, with aniron grip about his throat. "Oh, thou fox-hearted slave, I see itall! Thou'st writ the lying letter thyself, and my stolen brideand goods are its fruit. There--now get thee gone, lest I shamemine honourable soldiership with the slaying of so pitiful amannikin!"Hugh, red-faced, and almost suffocated, reeled to the nearestchair, and commanded the servants to seize and bind the murderousstranger. They hesitated, 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 heldback."Then go, ye paltry cowards, and arm yourselves and guard thedoors, whilst I send one to fetch the watch!" said Hugh. Heturned at the threshold, and said to Miles, "You'll find it toyour advantage to offend not with useless endeavours at escape.""Escape? Spare thyself discomfort, an' that is all that troublesthee. For Miles Hendon is master of Hendon Hall and all itsbelongings. He will remain--doubt it not."