by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XXVI. Disowned.
The King sat musing a few moments, then looked up and said--
"'Tis strange--most strange. ?I cannot account for it."
"No, it is not strange, my liege. ?I know him, and this conduct is butnatural. ?He was a rascal from his birth."
"Oh, I spake not of _him_, Sir Miles."
"Not of him? ?Then of what? ?What is it that is strange?"
"That the King is not missed."
"How? ?Which? ?I doubt I do not understand."
"Indeed? ?Doth it not strike you as being passing strange that the landis not filled with couriers and proclamations describing my person andmaking search for me? ?Is it no matter for commotion and distress thatthe Head of the State is gone; that I am vanished away and lost?"
"Most true, my King, I had forgot." ?Then Hendon sighed, and muttered tohimself, "Poor ruined mind--still busy with its pathetic dream."
"But I have a plan that shall right us both--I will write a paper, inthree tongues--Latin, Greek and English--and thou shalt haste away withit to London in the morning. ?Give it to none but my uncle, the LordHertford; when he shall see it, he will know and say I wrote it. ?Thenhe will send for me."
"Might it not be best, my Prince, that we wait here until I prove myselfand make my rights secure to my domains? ?I should be so much the betterable then to--"
The King interrupted him imperiously--
"Peace! ?What are thy paltry domains, thy trivial interests, contrastedwith matters which concern the weal of a nation and the integrity of athrone?" ?Then, he added, in a gentle voice, as if he were sorry for hisseverity, "Obey, and have no fear; I will right thee, I will make theewhole--yes, more than whole. ?I shall remember, and requite."
So saying, he took the pen, and set himself to work. ?Hendoncontemplated him lovingly a while, then said to himself--
"An' it were dark, I should think it _was_ a king that spoke; there'sno denying it, when the humour's upon on him he doth thunder and lightenlike your true King; now where got he that trick? ?See him scribble andscratch away contentedly at his meaningless pot-hooks, fancying them tobe Latin and Greek--and except my wit shall serve me with a lucky devicefor diverting him from his purpose, I shall be forced to pretend to postaway to-morrow on this wild errand he hath invented for me."
The next moment Sir Miles's thoughts had gone back to the recentepisode. So absorbed was he in his musings, that when the King presentlyhanded him the paper which he had been writing, he received it andpocketed it without being conscious of the act. "How marvellous strangeshe acted," he muttered. ?"I think she knew me--and I think she did_not_ know me. These opinions do conflict, I perceive it plainly; Icannot reconcile them, neither can I, by argument, dismiss either of thetwo, or even persuade one to outweigh the other. ?The matter standethsimply thus: she _must_ have known my face, my figure, my voice, for howcould it be otherwise? ?Yet she __said_ _she knew me not, and that isproof perfect, for she cannot lie. ?But stop--I think I begin to see.Peradventure he hath influenced her, commanded her, compelled her tolie. ?That is the solution. ?The riddle is unriddled. ?She seemed deadwith fear--yes, she was under his compulsion. ?I will seek her; I willfind her; now that he is away, she will speak her true mind. ?She willremember the old times when we were little playfellows together, andthis will soften her heart, and she will no more betray me, but willconfess me. ?There is no treacherous blood in her--no, she was alwayshonest and true. ?She has loved me, in those old days--this is mysecurity; for whom one has loved, one cannot betray."
He stepped eagerly toward the door; at that moment it opened, and theLady Edith entered. ?She was very pale, but she walked with a firm step,and her carriage was full of grace and gentle dignity. Her face was assad as before.
Miles sprang forward, with a happy confidence, to meet her, but shechecked him with a hardly perceptible gesture, and he stopped where hewas. ?She seated herself, and asked him to do likewise. Thus simply didshe take the sense of old comradeship out of him, and transform himinto a stranger and a guest. ?The surprise of it, the bewilderingunexpectedness of it, made him begin to question, for a moment, if he_was_ the person he was pretending to be, after all. ?The Lady Edithsaid--
"Sir, I have come to warn you. ?The mad cannot be persuaded out oftheir delusions, perchance; but doubtless they may be persuaded to avoidperils. ?I think this dream of yours hath the seeming of honest truth toyou, and therefore is not criminal--but do not tarry here with it; forhere it is dangerous." ?She looked steadily into Miles's face a moment,then added, impressively, "It is the more dangerous for that you _are_much like what our lost lad must have grown to be if he had lived."
"Heavens, madam, but I _am_ he!"
"I truly think you think it, sir. ?I question not your honesty in that;I but warn you, that is all. ?My husband is master in this region; hispower hath hardly any limit; the people prosper or starve, as he wills.If you resembled not the man whom you profess to be, my husband mightbid you pleasure yourself with your dream in peace; but trust me, I knowhim well; I know what he will do; he will say to all that you are but amad impostor, and straightway all will echo him." ?She bent upon Milesthat same steady look once more, and added: ?"If you _were_ MilesHendon, and he knew it and all the region knew it--consider what Iam saying, weigh it well--you would stand in the same peril, yourpunishment would be no less sure; he would deny you and denounce you,and none would be bold enough to give you countenance."
"Most truly I believe it," said Miles, bitterly. ?"The power thatcan command one life-long friend to betray and disown another, and beobeyed, may well look to be obeyed in quarters where bread and life areon the stake and no cobweb ties of loyalty and honour are concerned."
A faint tinge appeared for a moment in the lady's cheek, and she droppedher eyes to the floor; but her voice betrayed no emotion when sheproceeded--
"I have warned you--I must still warn you--to go hence. ?This man willdestroy you, else. ?He is a tyrant who knows no pity. ?I, who amhis fettered slave, know this. ?Poor Miles, and Arthur, and my dearguardian, Sir Richard, are free of him, and at rest: ?better thatyou were with them than that you bide here in the clutches of thismiscreant. ?Your pretensions are a menace to his title and possessions;you have assaulted him in his own house: ?you are ruined if you stay.?Go--do not hesitate. If you lack money, take this purse, I beg of you,and bribe the servants to let you pass. Oh, be warned, poor soul, andescape while you may."
Miles declined the purse with a gesture, and rose up and stood beforeher.
"Grant me one thing," he said. ?"Let your eyes rest upon mine, so that Imay see if they be steady. ?There--now answer me. ?Am I Miles Hendon?"
"No. ?I know you not."
"Swear it!"
The answer was low, but distinct--
"I swear."
"Oh, this passes belief!"
"Fly! ?Why will you waste the precious time? ?Fly, and save yourself."
At that moment the officers burst into the room, and a violent strugglebegan; but Hendon was soon overpowered and dragged away. The King wastaken also, and both were bound and led to prison.