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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prince and The Pauper, Complete by
+Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost
+no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use
+it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+Title: The Prince and The Pauper, Complete
+
+Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
+
+Release Date: August 20, 2006 [EBook #1837]
+Last Updated: February 19, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCE AND THE PAUPER ***
+
+Produced by David Widger. The earliest PG edition was prepared by Les
+Bowler
+
+
+
+
+THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
+
+by Mark Twain
+
+The Great Seal
+
+I will set down a tale as it was told to me by one who had it of his
+father, which latter had it of HIS father, this last having in like
+manner had it of HIS father--and so on, back and still back, three
+hundred years and more, the fathers transmitting it to the sons and so
+preserving it.  It may be history, it may be only a legend, a tradition.
+It may have happened, it may not have happened:  but it COULD have
+happened.  It may be that the wise and the learned believed it in the
+old days; it may be that only the unlearned and the simple loved it and
+credited it.
+
+CONTENTS
+
+    I.          The birth of the Prince and the Pauper.
+    II.  Tom’s early life.
+    III.    Tom’s meeting with the Prince.
+    IV.  The Prince’s troubles begin.
+    V.          Tom as a patrician.
+    VI.  Tom receives instructions.
+    VII.    Tom’s first royal dinner.
+    VIII.    The question of the Seal.
+    IX.  The river pageant.
+    X.          The Prince in the toils.
+    XI.  At Guildhall.
+    XII.  The Prince and his deliverer.
+    XIII.    The disappearance of the Prince.
+    XIV.  ‘Le Roi est mort--vive le Roi.’
+    XV.  Tom as King.
+    XVI.  The state dinner.
+    XVII.    Foo-foo the First.
+    XVIII.    The Prince with the tramps.
+    XIX.  The Prince with the peasants.
+    XX.  The Prince and the hermit.
+    XXI.  Hendon to the rescue.
+    XXII.  A victim of treachery.
+    XXIII.    The Prince a prisoner.
+    XXIV.  The escape.
+    XXV.  Hendon Hall.
+    XXVI.  Disowned.
+    XXVII.  In prison.
+    XXVIII.    The sacrifice.
+    XXIX.  To London.
+    XXX.  Tom’s progress.
+    XXXI.  The Recognition procession.
+    XXXII.  Coronation Day.
+    XXXIII.  Edward as King.
+    CONCLUSION.    Justice and Retribution.
+       Notes.
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+THE GREAT SEAL (frontispiece)
+
+THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
+
+“SPLENDID PAGEANTS AND GREAT BONFIRES”
+
+TOM’S EARLY LIFE
+
+OFFAL COURT
+
+“WITH ANY MISERABLE CRUST”
+
+“HE OFTEN READ THE PRIEST’S BOOKS”
+
+“SAW POOR ANNE ASKEW BURNED”
+
+“BROUGHT THEIR PERPLEXITIES TO TOM”
+
+“LONGING FOR THE PORK-PIES”
+
+TOM’S MEETING WITH THE PRINCE
+
+“AT TEMPLE BAR”
+
+“LET HIM IN”
+
+“HOW OLD BE THESE
+
+“DOFF THY RAGS, AND DON THESE SPLENDORS”  
+
+“I SALUTE YOUR GRACIOUS HIGHNESS!”
+
+THE PRINCE’S TROUBLES BEGIN
+
+“SET UPON BY DOGS”
+
+“A DRUNKEN RUFFIAN COLLARED HIM”
+
+TOM AS A PATRICIAN
+
+“NEXT HE DREW THE SWORD”
+
+“RESOLVED TO FLY”
+
+“THE BOY WAS ON HIS KNEES”
+
+“NOBLES WALKED UPON EACH SIDE OF HIM”
+
+“HE DROPPED UPON HIS KNEES”
+
+“HE TURNED WITH JOYFUL FACE”
+
+“THE PHYSICIAN BOWED LOW”
+
+“THE KING FELL BACK UPON HIS COUCH”
+
+“IS THIS MAN TO LIVE FOREVER?”
+
+TOM RECEIVES INSTRUCTIONS
+
+“PRITHEE, INSIST NOT”
+
+“THE LORD ST. JOHN MADE REVERENCE”
+
+HERTFORD AND THE PRINCESSES
+
+“SHE MADE REVERENCE”
+
+“OFFERED IT TO HIM ON A GOLDEN SALVER”
+
+“THEY MUSED A WHILE”
+
+“PEACE MY LORD, THOU UTTEREST TREASON!”
+
+“HE BEGAN TO PACE THE FLOOR”
+
+TOM’S FIRST ROYAL DINNER
+
+“FASTENED A NAPKIN ABOUT HIS NECK”
+
+“TOM ATE WITH HIS FINGERS”
+
+“HE GRAVELY TOOK A DRAUGHT”
+
+“TOM PUT ON THE GREAVES”
+
+THE QUESTION OF THE SEAL
+
+“EASED HIM BACK UPON HIS PILLOWS”
+
+THE RIVER PAGEANT
+
+“HALBERDIERS APPEARED IN THE GATEWAY”
+
+“TOM CANTY STEPPED INTO VIEW”
+
+THE PRINCE IN THE TOILS
+
+“A DIM FORM SANK TO THE GROUND”
+
+“WHO ART THOU?”
+
+“INTO GOOD WIFE CANTY’S ARMS”
+
+“BENT HEEDFULLY AND WARILY OVER HIM”
+
+“THE PRINCE SPRANG UP”
+
+“HURRIED HIM ALONG THE DARK WAY”
+
+“HE WASTE NO TIME”
+
+AT GUILDHALL
+
+“A RICH CANOPY OF STATE”
+
+“BEGAN TO LAY ABOUT HIM”
+
+“LONG LIVE THE KING!”
+
+THE PRINCE AND HIS DELIVERER
+
+“OUR FRIENDS THREADED THEIR WAY”
+
+“OBJECT LESSONS” IN ENGLISH HISTORY
+
+“JOHN CANTY MOVED OFF”
+
+“SMOOTHING BACK THE TANGLED CURLS”
+
+“PRITHEE, POUR THE WATER”
+
+“GO ON--TELL ME THY STORY
+
+“THOU HAST BEEN SHAMEFULLY ABUSED”
+
+“HE DROPPED ON ONE KNEE”
+
+“RISE, SIR MILES HENDON, BARONET”
+
+THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE PRINCE
+
+“HE DROPPED ASLEEP”
+
+“THESE BE VERY GOOD AND SOUND”
+
+“EXPLAIN, THOU LIMB OF SATAN”
+
+“HENDON FOLLOWED AFTER HIM”
+
+“LE ROI EST MORT-VIVE LE ROI”
+
+“WILT DEIGN TO DELIVER THY COMMANDS?”
+
+“LORD OF THE BEDCHAMBER”
+
+“A SECRETARY OF STATE”
+
+“STOOD AT GRACEFUL EASE”
+
+“‘TIS I THAT TAKE THEM”
+
+“BUT TAX YOUR MEMORY”
+
+TOM AS KING
+
+“TOM HAD WANDERED TO A WINDOW”
+
+“TOM SCANNED THE PRISONERS”
+
+“LET THE PRISONER GO FREE!”
+
+“WHAT IS IT THAT THESE HAVE DONE?”
+
+“NODDED THEIR RECOGNITION”
+
+THE STATE DINNER
+
+“A GENTLEMAN BEARING A ROD”
+
+“THE CHANCELLOR BETWEEN TWO”
+
+“I THANK YOU MY GOOD PEOPLE”
+
+“IN THE MIDST OF HIS PAGEANT”
+
+FOO-FOO THE FIRST
+
+“RUFFIAN FOLLOWED THEIR STEPS”
+
+“HE SEIZED A BILLET OF WOOD”
+
+“HE WAS SOON ABSORBED IN THINKING”
+
+“A GRIM AND UNSIGHTLY PICTURE”
+
+“THEY ROARED OUT A ROLLICKING DITTY”
+
+“WHILST THE FLAMES LICKED UPWARDS”
+
+“THEY WERE WHIPPED AT THE CART’S TAIL”
+
+“THOU SHALT NOT”
+
+“KNOCKING HOBBS DOWN”
+
+“THRONE HIM”
+
+THE PRINCE WITH THE TRAMPS
+
+“TROOP OF VAGABONDS SET FORWARD”
+
+“THEY THREW BONES AND VEGETABLES
+
+“WRITHE AND WALLOW IN THE DIRT”
+
+“KING FLED IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION”
+
+“HE STUMBLED ALONG”
+
+“WHAT SEEMED TO BE A WARM ROPE”
+
+“CUDDLED UP TO THE CALF”
+
+THE PRINCE WITH THE PEASANTS
+
+“TOOK A GOOD SATISFYING STARE”
+
+“MOTHER RECEIVED THE KING KINDLY”
+
+“BROUGHT THE KING OUT OF HIS DREAMS”
+
+“GAVE HIM A BUTCHER KNIFE TO GRIND”
+
+THE PRINCE AND THE HERMIT
+
+“HE TURNED AND DESCRIED TWO FIGURES”
+
+“THE KING ENTERED AND PAUSED”
+
+“I WILL TELL YOU A SECRET”
+
+“CHATTING PLEASANTLY ALL THE TIME”
+
+“DREW HIS THUMB ALONG THE EDGE”
+
+“THE NEXT MOMENT THEY WERE BOUND”
+
+HENDON TO THE RESCUE
+
+“SUNK UPON HIS KNEES”
+
+“GOD MADE EVERY CREATURE BUT YOU!”
+
+“THE FETTERED LITTLE KING”
+
+A VICTIM OF TREACHERY
+
+“HUGO STOOD NO CHANCE”
+
+“BOUND THE POULTICE TIGHT AND FAST”
+
+“TARRY HERE TILL I COME AGAIN
+
+“KING SPRANG TO HIS DELIVERER’S SIDE”
+
+THE PRINCE A PRISONER
+
+“GENTLY, GOOD FRIEND”
+
+“SHE SPRANG TO HER FEET”
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+“THE PIG MAY COST THY NECK, MAN”
+
+“BEAR ME UP, BEAR ME UP, SWEET SIR!”
+
+HENDON HALL
+
+“JOGGING EASTWARD ON SORRY STEEDS”
+
+“THERE IS THE VILLAGE, MY PRINCE!”
+
+“‘EMBRACE ME, HUGH,’ HE CRIED”
+
+“HUGH PUT UP HIS HAND IN DISSENT”
+
+“A BEAUTIFUL LADY, RICHLY CLOTHED”
+
+“HUGH WAS PINNED TO THE WALL”
+
+DISOWNED
+
+“OBEY, AND HAVE NO FEAR”
+
+“AM I MILES HENDON?”
+
+IN PRISON
+
+“CHAINED IN A LARGE ROOM”
+
+“THE OLD MAN LOOKED HENDON OVER”
+
+“INFORMATION DELIVERED IN A LOW VOICE”
+
+“THE KING!” HE CRIED. “WHAT KING?”
+
+“TWO WOMEN CHAINED TO POSTS”
+
+“TORN AWAY BY THE OFFICERS”
+
+“THE KING WAS FURIOUS”
+
+THE SACRIFICE
+
+“HE CONFRONTED THE OFFICER IN CHARGE”
+
+“WHILE THE LASH WAS APPLIED”
+
+“SIR HUGH SPURRED AWAY”
+
+TO LONDON
+
+“MOUNTED AND RODE OFF WITH THE KING”
+
+“MIDST OF A JAM OF HOWLING PEOPLE”
+
+TOM’S PROGRESS
+
+“TO KISS HIS HAND AT PARTING”
+
+“COMMANDED HER TO GO TO HER CLOSET”
+
+THE RECOGNITION PROCESSION
+
+THE START FOR THE TOWER
+
+“WELCOME, O KING!”
+
+“A LARGESS! A LARGESS!”
+
+“SHE WAS AT HIS SIDE”
+
+“IT IS AN ILL TIME FOR DREAMING”
+
+“SHE WAS MY MOTHER”
+
+CORONATION DAY
+
+“GATHERS UP THE LADY’S LONG TRAIN”
+
+“TOM CANTY APPEARED”
+
+“AND FELL ON HIS KNEES BEFORE HIM”
+
+“THE GREAT SEAL--FETCH IT HITHER”
+
+“SIRE, THE SEAL IS NOT THERE”
+
+“BETHINK THEE, MY KING”
+
+“LONG LIVE THE TRUE KING!”
+
+“TO CRACK NUTS WITH”
+
+EDWARD AS KING
+
+“HE STRETCHED HIMSELF ON THE GROUND”
+
+“ARRESTED AS A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER”
+
+“IT IS HIS RIGHT”
+
+“STRIP THIS ROBBER”
+
+“TOM ROSE AND KISSED THE KING’S HAND”
+
+JUSTICE AND RETRIBUTION
+
+NOTES
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. The birth of the Prince and the Pauper.
+
+In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second
+quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the
+name of Canty, who did not want him.  On the same day another English
+child was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, who did want him.
+All England wanted him too.  England had so longed for him, and hoped
+for him, and prayed God for him, that, now that he was really come, the
+people went nearly mad for joy.  Mere acquaintances hugged and kissed
+each other and cried. Everybody took a holiday, and high and low, rich
+and poor, feasted and danced and sang, and got very mellow; and they
+kept this up for days and nights together.  By day, London was a sight
+to see, with gay banners waving from every balcony and housetop, and
+splendid pageants marching along.  By night, it was again a sight
+to see, with its great bonfires at every corner, and its troops of
+revellers making merry around them.  There was no talk in all England
+but of the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales, who lay lapped in
+silks and satins, unconscious of all this fuss, and not knowing that
+great lords and ladies were tending him and watching over him--and not
+caring, either.  But there was no talk about the other baby, Tom Canty,
+lapped in his poor rags, except among the family of paupers whom he had
+just come to trouble with his presence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. Tom’s early life.
+
+Let us skip a number of years.
+
+London was fifteen hundred years old, and was a great town--for that
+day. It had a hundred thousand inhabitants--some think double as many.
+ The streets were very narrow, and crooked, and dirty, especially in the
+part where Tom Canty lived, which was not far from London Bridge.  The
+houses were of wood, with the second story projecting over the first,
+and the third sticking its elbows out beyond the second.  The higher
+the houses grew, the broader they grew.  They were skeletons of strong
+criss-cross beams, with solid material between, coated with plaster.
+ The beams were painted red or blue or black, according to the owner’s
+taste, and this gave the houses a very picturesque look.  The windows
+were small, glazed with little diamond-shaped panes, and they opened
+outward, on hinges, like doors.
+
+The house which Tom’s father lived in was up a foul little pocket called
+Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane.  It was small, decayed, and rickety,
+but it was packed full of wretchedly poor families. Canty’s tribe
+occupied a room on the third floor.  The mother and father had a sort of
+bedstead in the corner; but Tom, his grandmother, and his two sisters,
+Bet and Nan, were not restricted--they had all the floor to themselves,
+and might sleep where they chose.  There were the remains of a blanket
+or two, and some bundles of ancient and dirty straw, but these could not
+rightly be called beds, for they were not organised; they were kicked
+into a general pile, mornings, and selections made from the mass at
+night, for service.
+
+Bet and Nan were fifteen years old--twins.  They were good-hearted
+girls, unclean, clothed in rags, and profoundly ignorant.  Their mother
+was like them.  But the father and the grandmother were a couple of
+fiends.  They got drunk whenever they could; then they fought each other
+or anybody else who came in the way; they cursed and swore always, drunk
+or sober; John Canty was a thief, and his mother a beggar.  They made
+beggars of the children, but failed to make thieves of them.  Among,
+but not of, the dreadful rabble that inhabited the house, was a good old
+priest whom the King had turned out of house and home with a pension of
+a few farthings, and he used to get the children aside and teach them
+right ways secretly. Father Andrew also taught Tom a little Latin, and
+how to read and write; and would have done the same with the girls,
+but they were afraid of the jeers of their friends, who could not have
+endured such a queer accomplishment in them.
+
+All Offal Court was just such another hive as Canty’s house.
+Drunkenness, riot and brawling were the order, there, every night and
+nearly all night long.  Broken heads were as common as hunger in that
+place.  Yet little Tom was not unhappy.  He had a hard time of it, but
+did not know it.  It was the sort of time that all the Offal Court boys
+had, therefore he supposed it was the correct and comfortable thing.
+ When he came home empty-handed at night, he knew his father would
+curse him and thrash him first, and that when he was done the awful
+grandmother would do it all over again and improve on it; and that away
+in the night his starving mother would slip to him stealthily with any
+miserable scrap or crust she had been able to save for him by going
+hungry herself, notwithstanding she was often caught in that sort of
+treason and soundly beaten for it by her husband.
+
+No, Tom’s life went along well enough, especially in summer.  He only
+begged just enough to save himself, for the laws against mendicancy were
+stringent, and the penalties heavy; so he put in a good deal of his time
+listening to good Father Andrew’s charming old tales and legends
+about giants and fairies, dwarfs and genii, and enchanted castles, and
+gorgeous kings and princes.  His head grew to be full of these wonderful
+things, and many a night as he lay in the dark on his scant and
+offensive straw, tired, hungry, and smarting from a thrashing, he
+unleashed his imagination and soon forgot his aches and pains in
+delicious picturings to himself of the charmed life of a petted prince
+in a regal palace.  One desire came in time to haunt him day and night:
+ it was to see a real prince, with his own eyes.  He spoke of it once to
+some of his Offal Court comrades; but they jeered him and scoffed him so
+unmercifully that he was glad to keep his dream to himself after that.
+
+He often read the priest’s old books and got him to explain and enlarge
+upon them.  His dreamings and readings worked certain changes in him,
+by-and-by.  His dream-people were so fine that he grew to lament his
+shabby clothing and his dirt, and to wish to be clean and better clad.
+ He went on playing in the mud just the same, and enjoying it, too; but,
+instead of splashing around in the Thames solely for the fun of it,
+he began to find an added value in it because of the washings and
+cleansings it afforded.
+
+Tom could always find something going on around the Maypole in
+Cheapside, and at the fairs; and now and then he and the rest of London
+had a chance to see a military parade when some famous unfortunate was
+carried prisoner to the Tower, by land or boat. One summer’s day he saw
+poor Anne Askew and three men burned at the stake in Smithfield, and
+heard an ex-Bishop preach a sermon to them which did not interest him.
+Yes, Tom’s life was varied and pleasant enough, on the whole.
+
+By-and-by Tom’s reading and dreaming about princely life wrought such a
+strong effect upon him that he began to _act_ the prince, unconsciously.
+His speech and manners became curiously ceremonious and courtly, to the
+vast admiration and amusement of his intimates.  But Tom’s influence
+among these young people began to grow now, day by day; and in time he
+came to be looked up to, by them, with a sort of wondering awe, as a
+superior being.  He seemed to know so much! and he could do and say such
+marvellous things! and withal, he was so deep and wise!  Tom’s remarks,
+and Tom’s performances, were reported by the boys to their elders; and
+these, also, presently began to discuss Tom Canty, and to regard him
+as a most gifted and extraordinary creature.  Full-grown people brought
+their perplexities to Tom for solution, and were often astonished at the
+wit and wisdom of his decisions.  In fact he was become a hero to all
+who knew him except his own family--these, only, saw nothing in him.
+
+Privately, after a while, Tom organised a royal court!  He was the
+prince; his special comrades were guards, chamberlains, equerries, lords
+and ladies in waiting, and the royal family.  Daily the mock prince was
+received with elaborate ceremonials borrowed by Tom from his romantic
+readings; daily the great affairs of the mimic kingdom were discussed
+in the royal council, and daily his mimic highness issued decrees to his
+imaginary armies, navies, and viceroyalties.
+
+After which, he would go forth in his rags and beg a few farthings, eat
+his poor crust, take his customary cuffs and abuse, and then stretch
+himself upon his handful of foul straw, and resume his empty grandeurs
+in his dreams.
+
+And still his desire to look just once upon a real prince, in the flesh,
+grew upon him, day by day, and week by week, until at last it absorbed
+all other desires, and became the one passion of his life.
+
+One January day, on his usual begging tour, he tramped despondently up
+and down the region round about Mincing Lane and Little East Cheap, hour
+after hour, bare-footed and cold, looking in at cook-shop windows and
+longing for the dreadful pork-pies and other deadly inventions displayed
+there--for to him these were dainties fit for the angels; that is,
+judging by the smell, they were--for it had never been his good luck to
+own and eat one. There was a cold drizzle of rain; the atmosphere was
+murky; it was a melancholy day.  At night Tom reached home so wet and
+tired and hungry that it was not possible for his father and grandmother
+to observe his forlorn condition and not be moved--after their fashion;
+wherefore they gave him a brisk cuffing at once and sent him to bed.
+ For a long time his pain and hunger, and the swearing and fighting
+going on in the building, kept him awake; but at last his thoughts
+drifted away to far, romantic lands, and he fell asleep in the company
+of jewelled and gilded princelings who live in vast palaces, and had
+servants salaaming before them or flying to execute their orders.  And
+then, as usual, he dreamed that _he_ was a princeling himself.
+
+All night long the glories of his royal estate shone upon him; he moved
+among great lords and ladies, in a blaze of light, breathing perfumes,
+drinking in delicious music, and answering the reverent obeisances of
+the glittering throng as it parted to make way for him, with here a
+smile, and there a nod of his princely head.
+
+And when he awoke in the morning and looked upon the wretchedness
+about him, his dream had had its usual effect--it had intensified the
+sordidness of his surroundings a thousandfold.  Then came bitterness,
+and heart-break, and tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. Tom’s meeting with the Prince.
+
+Tom got up hungry, and sauntered hungry away, but with his thoughts busy
+with the shadowy splendours of his night’s dreams. He wandered here
+and there in the city, hardly noticing where he was going, or what
+was happening around him.  People jostled him, and some gave him rough
+speech; but it was all lost on the musing boy.  By-and-by he found
+himself at Temple Bar, the farthest from home he had ever travelled in
+that direction.  He stopped and considered a moment, then fell into his
+imaginings again, and passed on outside the walls of London.  The Strand
+had ceased to be a country-road then, and regarded itself as a street,
+but by a strained construction; for, though there was a tolerably
+compact row of houses on one side of it, there were only some scattered
+great buildings on the other, these being palaces of rich nobles, with
+ample and beautiful grounds stretching to the river--grounds that are
+now closely packed with grim acres of brick and stone.
+
+Tom discovered Charing Village presently, and rested himself at the
+beautiful cross built there by a bereaved king of earlier days; then
+idled down a quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal’s
+stately palace, toward a far more mighty and majestic palace
+beyond--Westminster. Tom stared in glad wonder at the vast pile of
+masonry, the wide-spreading wings, the frowning bastions and turrets,
+the huge stone gateway, with its gilded bars and its magnificent array
+of colossal granite lions, and other the signs and symbols of English
+royalty.  Was the desire of his soul to be satisfied at last?  Here,
+indeed, was a king’s palace.  Might he not hope to see a prince now--a
+prince of flesh and blood, if Heaven were willing?
+
+At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue--that is to say,
+an erect and stately and motionless man-at-arms, clad from head to heel
+in shining steel armour.  At a respectful distance were many country
+folk, and people from the city, waiting for any chance glimpse of
+royalty that might offer.  Splendid carriages, with splendid people
+in them and splendid servants outside, were arriving and departing by
+several other noble gateways that pierced the royal enclosure.
+
+Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was moving slowly and
+timidly past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising hope, when
+all at once he caught sight through the golden bars of a spectacle that
+almost made him shout for joy.  Within was a comely boy, tanned and
+brown with sturdy outdoor sports and exercises, whose clothing was all
+of lovely silks and satins, shining with jewels; at his hip a little
+jewelled sword and dagger; dainty buskins on his feet, with red heels;
+and on his head a jaunty crimson cap, with drooping plumes fastened
+with a great sparkling gem.  Several gorgeous gentlemen stood near--his
+servants, without a doubt.  Oh! he was a prince--a prince, a living
+prince, a real prince--without the shadow of a question; and the prayer
+of the pauper-boy’s heart was answered at last.
+
+Tom’s breath came quick and short with excitement, and his eyes grew big
+with wonder and delight.  Everything gave way in his mind instantly
+to one desire:  that was to get close to the prince, and have a good,
+devouring look at him.  Before he knew what he was about, he had his
+face against the gate-bars.  The next instant one of the soldiers
+snatched him rudely away, and sent him spinning among the gaping crowd
+of country gawks and London idlers.  The soldier said,--
+
+“Mind thy manners, thou young beggar!”
+
+The crowd jeered and laughed; but the young prince sprang to the gate
+with his face flushed, and his eyes flashing with indignation, and cried
+out,--
+
+“How dar’st thou use a poor lad like that?  How dar’st thou use the King
+my father’s meanest subject so?  Open the gates, and let him in!”
+
+You should have seen that fickle crowd snatch off their hats then.
+You should have heard them cheer, and shout, “Long live the Prince of
+Wales!”
+
+The soldiers presented arms with their halberds, opened the gates,
+and presented again as the little Prince of Poverty passed in, in his
+fluttering rags, to join hands with the Prince of Limitless Plenty.
+
+Edward Tudor said--
+
+“Thou lookest tired and hungry:  thou’st been treated ill.  Come with
+me.”
+
+Half a dozen attendants sprang forward to--I don’t know what; interfere,
+no doubt.  But they were waved aside with a right royal gesture, and
+they stopped stock still where they were, like so many statues.  Edward
+took Tom to a rich apartment in the palace, which he called his cabinet.
+ By his command a repast was brought such as Tom had never encountered
+before except in books.  The prince, with princely delicacy and
+breeding, sent away the servants, so that his humble guest might not be
+embarrassed by their critical presence; then he sat near by, and asked
+questions while Tom ate.
+
+“What is thy name, lad?”
+
+“Tom Canty, an’ it please thee, sir.”
+
+“‘Tis an odd one.  Where dost live?”
+
+“In the city, please thee, sir.  Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane.”
+
+“Offal Court!  Truly ’tis another odd one.  Hast parents?”
+
+“Parents have I, sir, and a grand-dam likewise that is but indifferently
+precious to me, God forgive me if it be offence to say it--also twin
+sisters, Nan and Bet.”
+
+“Then is thy grand-dam not over kind to thee, I take it?”
+
+“Neither to any other is she, so please your worship.  She hath a wicked
+heart, and worketh evil all her days.”
+
+“Doth she mistreat thee?”
+
+“There be times that she stayeth her hand, being asleep or overcome with
+drink; but when she hath her judgment clear again, she maketh it up to
+me with goodly beatings.”
+
+A fierce look came into the little prince’s eyes, and he cried out--
+
+“What!  Beatings?”
+
+“Oh, indeed, yes, please you, sir.”
+
+“_Beatings_!--and thou so frail and little.  Hark ye:  before the night
+come, she shall hie her to the Tower.  The King my father”--
+
+“In sooth, you forget, sir, her low degree.  The Tower is for the great
+alone.”
+
+“True, indeed.  I had not thought of that.  I will consider of her
+punishment.  Is thy father kind to thee?”
+
+“Not more than Gammer Canty, sir.”
+
+“Fathers be alike, mayhap.  Mine hath not a doll’s temper.  He smiteth
+with a heavy hand, yet spareth me:  he spareth me not always with his
+tongue, though, sooth to say.  How doth thy mother use thee?”
+
+“She is good, sir, and giveth me neither sorrow nor pain of any sort.
+And Nan and Bet are like to her in this.”
+
+“How old be these?”
+
+“Fifteen, an’ it please you, sir.”
+
+“The Lady Elizabeth, my sister, is fourteen, and the Lady Jane Grey,
+my cousin, is of mine own age, and comely and gracious withal; but
+my sister the Lady Mary, with her gloomy mien and--Look you:  do thy
+sisters forbid their servants to smile, lest the sin destroy their
+souls?”
+
+“They?  Oh, dost think, sir, that _they_ have servants?”
+
+The little prince contemplated the little pauper gravely a moment, then
+said--
+
+“And prithee, why not?  Who helpeth them undress at night?  Who attireth
+them when they rise?”
+
+“None, sir.  Would’st have them take off their garment, and sleep
+without--like the beasts?”
+
+“Their garment!  Have they but one?”
+
+“Ah, good your worship, what would they do with more?  Truly they have
+not two bodies each.”
+
+“It is a quaint and marvellous thought!  Thy pardon, I had not meant
+to laugh.  But thy good Nan and thy Bet shall have raiment and lackeys
+enow, and that soon, too:  my cofferer shall look to it.  No, thank me
+not; ’tis nothing.  Thou speakest well; thou hast an easy grace in it.
+ Art learned?”
+
+“I know not if I am or not, sir.  The good priest that is called Father
+Andrew taught me, of his kindness, from his books.”
+
+“Know’st thou the Latin?”
+
+“But scantly, sir, I doubt.”
+
+“Learn it, lad:  ’tis hard only at first.  The Greek is harder; but
+neither these nor any tongues else, I think, are hard to the Lady
+Elizabeth and my cousin.  Thou should’st hear those damsels at it!  But
+tell me of thy Offal Court.  Hast thou a pleasant life there?”
+
+“In truth, yes, so please you, sir, save when one is hungry. There
+be Punch-and-Judy shows, and monkeys--oh such antic creatures! and so
+bravely dressed!--and there be plays wherein they that play do shout
+and fight till all are slain, and ’tis so fine to see, and costeth but
+a farthing--albeit ’tis main hard to get the farthing, please your
+worship.”
+
+“Tell me more.”
+
+“We lads of Offal Court do strive against each other with the cudgel,
+like to the fashion of the ‘prentices, sometimes.”
+
+The prince’s eyes flashed.  Said he--
+
+“Marry, that would not I mislike.  Tell me more.”
+
+“We strive in races, sir, to see who of us shall be fleetest.”
+
+“That would I like also.  Speak on.”
+
+“In summer, sir, we wade and swim in the canals and in the river, and
+each doth duck his neighbour, and splatter him with water, and dive and
+shout and tumble and--”
+
+“‘Twould be worth my father’s kingdom but to enjoy it once! Prithee go
+on.”
+
+“We dance and sing about the Maypole in Cheapside; we play in the sand,
+each covering his neighbour up; and times we make mud pastry--oh
+the lovely mud, it hath not its like for delightfulness in all the
+world!--we do fairly wallow in the mud, sir, saving your worship’s
+presence.”
+
+“Oh, prithee, say no more, ’tis glorious!  If that I could but clothe me
+in raiment like to thine, and strip my feet, and revel in the mud once,
+just once, with none to rebuke me or forbid, meseemeth I could forego
+the crown!”
+
+“And if that I could clothe me once, sweet sir, as thou art clad--just
+once--”
+
+“Oho, would’st like it?  Then so shall it be.  Doff thy rags, and don
+these splendours, lad!  It is a brief happiness, but will be not less
+keen for that.  We will have it while we may, and change again before
+any come to molest.”
+
+A few minutes later the little Prince of Wales was garlanded with Tom’s
+fluttering odds and ends, and the little Prince of Pauperdom was tricked
+out in the gaudy plumage of royalty.  The two went and stood side by
+side before a great mirror, and lo, a miracle: there did not seem to
+have been any change made!  They stared at each other, then at the
+glass, then at each other again.  At last the puzzled princeling said--
+
+“What dost thou make of this?”
+
+“Ah, good your worship, require me not to answer.  It is not meet that
+one of my degree should utter the thing.”
+
+“Then will _I_ utter it.  Thou hast the same hair, the same eyes, the
+same voice and manner, the same form and stature, the same face and
+countenance that I bear.  Fared we forth naked, there is none could
+say which was you, and which the Prince of Wales.  And, now that I
+am clothed as thou wert clothed, it seemeth I should be able the more
+nearly to feel as thou didst when the brute soldier--Hark ye, is not
+this a bruise upon your hand?”
+
+“Yes; but it is a slight thing, and your worship knoweth that the poor
+man-at-arms--”
+
+“Peace!  It was a shameful thing and a cruel!” cried the little prince,
+stamping his bare foot.  “If the King--Stir not a step till I come
+again! It is a command!”
+
+In a moment he had snatched up and put away an article of national
+importance that lay upon a table, and was out at the door and flying
+through the palace grounds in his bannered rags, with a hot face and
+glowing eyes.  As soon as he reached the great gate, he seized the bars,
+and tried to shake them, shouting--
+
+“Open!  Unbar the gates!”
+
+The soldier that had maltreated Tom obeyed promptly; and as the prince
+burst through the portal, half-smothered with royal wrath, the soldier
+fetched him a sounding box on the ear that sent him whirling to the
+roadway, and said--
+
+“Take that, thou beggar’s spawn, for what thou got’st me from his
+Highness!”
+
+The crowd roared with laughter.  The prince picked himself out of the
+mud, and made fiercely at the sentry, shouting--
+
+“I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred; and thou shalt hang for
+laying thy hand upon me!”
+
+The soldier brought his halberd to a present-arms and said mockingly--
+
+“I salute your gracious Highness.”  Then angrily--“Be off, thou crazy
+rubbish!”
+
+Here the jeering crowd closed round the poor little prince, and hustled
+him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting--
+
+“Way for his Royal Highness!  Way for the Prince of Wales!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. The Prince’s troubles begin.
+
+After hours of persistent pursuit and persecution, the little prince was
+at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself.  As long as he had
+been able to rage against the mob, and threaten it royally, and
+royally utter commands that were good stuff to laugh at, he was very
+entertaining; but when weariness finally forced him to be silent, he was
+no longer of use to his tormentors, and they sought amusement elsewhere.
+He looked about him, now, but could not recognise the locality.  He
+was within the city of London--that was all he knew.  He moved on,
+aimlessly, and in a little while the houses thinned, and the passers-by
+were infrequent.  He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook which flowed
+then where Farringdon Street now is; rested a few moments, then passed
+on, and presently came upon a great space with only a few scattered
+houses in it, and a prodigious church.  He recognised this church.
+ Scaffoldings were about, everywhere, and swarms of workmen; for it was
+undergoing elaborate repairs.  The prince took heart at once--he felt
+that his troubles were at an end, now.  He said to himself, “It is the
+ancient Grey Friars’ Church, which the king my father hath taken from
+the monks and given for a home for ever for poor and forsaken children,
+and new-named it Christ’s Church.  Right gladly will they serve the son
+of him who hath done so generously by them--and the more that that son
+is himself as poor and as forlorn as any that be sheltered here this
+day, or ever shall be.”
+
+He was soon in the midst of a crowd of boys who were running, jumping,
+playing at ball and leap-frog, and otherwise disporting themselves, and
+right noisily, too.  They were all dressed alike, and in the fashion
+which in that day prevailed among serving-men and ‘prentices{1}--that
+is to say, each had on the crown of his head a flat black cap about the
+size of a saucer, which was not useful as a covering, it being of such
+scanty dimensions, neither was it ornamental; from beneath it the hair
+fell, unparted, to the middle of the forehead, and was cropped straight
+around; a clerical band at the neck; a blue gown that fitted closely
+and hung as low as the knees or lower; full sleeves; a broad red belt;
+bright yellow stockings, gartered above the knees; low shoes with large
+metal buckles. It was a sufficiently ugly costume.
+
+The boys stopped their play and flocked about the prince, who said with
+native dignity--
+
+“Good lads, say to your master that Edward Prince of Wales desireth
+speech with him.”
+
+A great shout went up at this, and one rude fellow said--
+
+“Marry, art thou his grace’s messenger, beggar?”
+
+The prince’s face flushed with anger, and his ready hand flew to his
+hip, but there was nothing there.  There was a storm of laughter, and
+one boy said--
+
+“Didst mark that?  He fancied he had a sword--belike he is the prince
+himself.”
+
+This sally brought more laughter.  Poor Edward drew himself up proudly
+and said--
+
+“I am the prince; and it ill beseemeth you that feed upon the king my
+father’s bounty to use me so.”
+
+This was vastly enjoyed, as the laughter testified.  The youth who had
+first spoken, shouted to his comrades--
+
+“Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace’s princely father, where be
+your manners?  Down on your marrow bones, all of ye, and do reverence to
+his kingly port and royal rags!”
+
+With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their knees in a body and did
+mock homage to their prey.  The prince spurned the nearest boy with his
+foot, and said fiercely--
+
+“Take thou that, till the morrow come and I build thee a gibbet!”
+
+Ah, but this was not a joke--this was going beyond fun.  The laughter
+ceased on the instant, and fury took its place.  A dozen shouted--
+
+“Hale him forth!  To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond!  Where be the
+dogs?  Ho, there, Lion! ho, Fangs!”
+
+Then followed such a thing as England had never seen before--the sacred
+person of the heir to the throne rudely buffeted by plebeian hands, and
+set upon and torn by dogs.
+
+As night drew to a close that day, the prince found himself far down in
+the close-built portion of the city.  His body was bruised, his hands
+were bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud.  He wandered
+on and on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired and faint
+he could hardly drag one foot after the other.  He had ceased to ask
+questions of anyone, since they brought him only insult instead of
+information.  He kept muttering to himself, “Offal Court--that is the
+name; if I can but find it before my strength is wholly spent and I
+drop, then am I saved--for his people will take me to the palace and
+prove that I am none of theirs, but the true prince, and I shall have
+mine own again.”  And now and then his mind reverted to his treatment
+by those rude Christ’s Hospital boys, and he said, “When I am king, they
+shall not have bread and shelter only, but also teachings out of books;
+for a full belly is little worth where the mind is starved, and the
+heart.  I will keep this diligently in my remembrance, that this day’s
+lesson be not lost upon me, and my people suffer thereby; for learning
+softeneth the heart and breedeth gentleness and charity.” {1}
+
+The lights began to twinkle, it came on to rain, the wind rose, and a
+raw and gusty night set in.  The houseless prince, the homeless heir to
+the throne of England, still moved on, drifting deeper into the maze
+of squalid alleys where the swarming hives of poverty and misery were
+massed together.
+
+Suddenly a great drunken ruffian collared him and said--
+
+“Out to this time of night again, and hast not brought a farthing home,
+I warrant me!  If it be so, an’ I do not break all the bones in thy lean
+body, then am I not John Canty, but some other.”
+
+The prince twisted himself loose, unconsciously brushed his profaned
+shoulder, and eagerly said--
+
+“Oh, art _his_ father, truly?  Sweet heaven grant it be so--then wilt
+thou fetch him away and restore me!”
+
+“_His_ father?  I know not what thou mean’st; I but know I am _thy_
+father, as thou shalt soon have cause to--”
+
+“Oh, jest not, palter not, delay not!--I am worn, I am wounded, I can
+bear no more.  Take me to the king my father, and he will make thee rich
+beyond thy wildest dreams.  Believe me, man, believe me!--I speak no
+lie, but only the truth!--put forth thy hand and save me!  I am indeed
+the Prince of Wales!”
+
+The man stared down, stupefied, upon the lad, then shook his head and
+muttered--
+
+“Gone stark mad as any Tom o’ Bedlam!”--then collared him once more,
+and said with a coarse laugh and an oath, “But mad or no mad, I and thy
+Gammer Canty will soon find where the soft places in thy bones lie, or
+I’m no true man!”
+
+With this he dragged the frantic and struggling prince away, and
+disappeared up a front court followed by a delighted and noisy swarm of
+human vermin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. Tom as a Patrician.
+
+Tom Canty, left alone in the prince’s cabinet, made good use of his
+opportunity.  He turned himself this way and that before the great
+mirror, admiring his finery; then walked away, imitating the prince’s
+high-bred carriage, and still observing results in the glass.  Next he
+drew the beautiful sword, and bowed, kissing the blade, and laying it
+across his breast, as he had seen a noble knight do, by way of salute to
+the lieutenant of the Tower, five or six weeks before, when delivering
+the great lords of Norfolk and Surrey into his hands for captivity.  Tom
+played with the jewelled dagger that hung upon his thigh; he examined
+the costly and exquisite ornaments of the room; he tried each of the
+sumptuous chairs, and thought how proud he would be if the Offal Court
+herd could only peep in and see him in his grandeur.  He wondered if
+they would believe the marvellous tale he should tell when he got home,
+or if they would shake their heads, and say his overtaxed imagination
+had at last upset his reason.
+
+At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred to him that the prince
+was gone a long time; then right away he began to feel lonely; very
+soon he fell to listening and longing, and ceased to toy with the
+pretty things about him; he grew uneasy, then restless, then distressed.
+Suppose some one should come, and catch him in the prince’s clothes, and
+the prince not there to explain.  Might they not hang him at once,
+and inquire into his case afterward?  He had heard that the great
+were prompt about small matters.  His fear rose higher and higher; and
+trembling he softly opened the door to the antechamber, resolved to
+fly and seek the prince, and, through him, protection and release.  Six
+gorgeous gentlemen-servants and two young pages of high degree, clothed
+like butterflies, sprang to their feet and bowed low before him.  He
+stepped quickly back and shut the door.  He said--
+
+“Oh, they mock at me!  They will go and tell.  Oh! why came I here to
+cast away my life?”
+
+He walked up and down the floor, filled with nameless fears, listening,
+starting at every trifling sound.  Presently the door swung open, and a
+silken page said--
+
+“The Lady Jane Grey.”
+
+The door closed and a sweet young girl, richly clad, bounded toward him.
+But she stopped suddenly, and said in a distressed voice--
+
+“Oh, what aileth thee, my lord?”
+
+Tom’s breath was nearly failing him; but he made shift to stammer out--
+
+“Ah, be merciful, thou!  In sooth I am no lord, but only poor Tom Canty
+of Offal Court in the city.  Prithee let me see the prince, and he will
+of his grace restore to me my rags, and let me hence unhurt.  Oh, be
+thou merciful, and save me!”
+
+By this time the boy was on his knees, and supplicating with his eyes
+and uplifted hands as well as with his tongue.  The young girl seemed
+horror-stricken.  She cried out--
+
+“O my lord, on thy knees?--and to _me_!”
+
+Then she fled away in fright; and Tom, smitten with despair, sank down,
+murmuring--
+
+“There is no help, there is no hope.  Now will they come and take me.”
+
+Whilst he lay there benumbed with terror, dreadful tidings were speeding
+through the palace.  The whisper--for it was whispered always--flew from
+menial to menial, from lord to lady, down all the long corridors, from
+story to story, from saloon to saloon, “The prince hath gone mad, the
+prince hath gone mad!”  Soon every saloon, every marble hall, had its
+groups of glittering lords and ladies, and other groups of dazzling
+lesser folk, talking earnestly together in whispers, and every face
+had in it dismay. Presently a splendid official came marching by these
+groups, making solemn proclamation--
+
+“IN THE NAME OF THE KING!
+
+Let none list to this false and foolish matter, upon pain of death, nor
+discuss the same, nor carry it abroad.  In the name of the King!”
+
+The whisperings ceased as suddenly as if the whisperers had been
+stricken dumb.
+
+Soon there was a general buzz along the corridors, of “The prince! See,
+the prince comes!”
+
+Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, trying to
+bow in return, and meekly gazing upon his strange surroundings with
+bewildered and pathetic eyes.  Great nobles walked upon each side of
+him, making him lean upon them, and so steady his steps. Behind him
+followed the court-physicians and some servants.
+
+Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment of the palace and heard
+the door close behind him.  Around him stood those who had come with
+him. Before him, at a little distance, reclined a very large and very
+fat man, with a wide, pulpy face, and a stern expression.  His large
+head was very grey; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his
+face, like a frame, were grey also.  His clothing was of rich stuff,
+but old, and slightly frayed in places.  One of his swollen legs had a
+pillow under it, and was wrapped in bandages.  There was silence now;
+and there was no head there but was bent in reverence, except this
+man’s.  This stern-countenanced invalid was the dread Henry VIII.  He
+said--and his face grew gentle as he began to speak--
+
+“How now, my lord Edward, my prince?  Hast been minded to cozen me, the
+good King thy father, who loveth thee, and kindly useth thee, with a
+sorry jest?”
+
+Poor Tom was listening, as well as his dazed faculties would let him,
+to the beginning of this speech; but when the words ‘me, the good King’
+fell upon his ear, his face blanched, and he dropped as instantly upon
+his knees as if a shot had brought him there. Lifting up his hands, he
+exclaimed--
+
+“Thou the _King_?  Then am I undone indeed!”
+
+This speech seemed to stun the King.  His eyes wandered from face to
+face aimlessly, then rested, bewildered, upon the boy before him.  Then
+he said in a tone of deep disappointment--
+
+“Alack, I had believed the rumour disproportioned to the truth; but I
+fear me ’tis not so.”  He breathed a heavy sigh, and said in a gentle
+voice, “Come to thy father, child:  thou art not well.”
+
+Tom was assisted to his feet, and approached the Majesty of England,
+humble and trembling.  The King took the frightened face between his
+hands, and gazed earnestly and lovingly into it awhile, as if seeking
+some grateful sign of returning reason there, then pressed the curly
+head against his breast, and patted it tenderly.  Presently he said--
+
+“Dost not know thy father, child?  Break not mine old heart; say thou
+know’st me.  Thou _dost_ know me, dost thou not?”
+
+“Yea:  thou art my dread lord the King, whom God preserve!”
+
+“True, true--that is well--be comforted, tremble not so; there is none
+here would hurt thee; there is none here but loves thee. Thou art better
+now; thy ill dream passeth--is’t not so?  Thou wilt not miscall thyself
+again, as they say thou didst a little while agone?”
+
+“I pray thee of thy grace believe me, I did but speak the truth, most
+dread lord; for I am the meanest among thy subjects, being a pauper
+born, and ’tis by a sore mischance and accident I am here, albeit I was
+therein nothing blameful.  I am but young to die, and thou canst save me
+with one little word.  Oh speak it, sir!”
+
+“Die?  Talk not so, sweet prince--peace, peace, to thy troubled
+heart--thou shalt not die!”
+
+Tom dropped upon his knees with a glad cry--
+
+“God requite thy mercy, O my King, and save thee long to bless thy
+land!” Then springing up, he turned a joyful face toward the two lords
+in waiting, and exclaimed, “Thou heard’st it!  I am not to die:  the
+King hath said it!”  There was no movement, save that all bowed with
+grave respect; but no one spoke.  He hesitated, a little confused, then
+turned timidly toward the King, saying, “I may go now?”
+
+“Go?  Surely, if thou desirest.  But why not tarry yet a little? Whither
+would’st go?”
+
+Tom dropped his eyes, and answered humbly--
+
+“Peradventure I mistook; but I did think me free, and so was I moved
+to seek again the kennel where I was born and bred to misery, yet which
+harboureth my mother and my sisters, and so is home to me; whereas these
+pomps and splendours whereunto I am not used--oh, please you, sir, to
+let me go!”
+
+The King was silent and thoughtful a while, and his face betrayed a
+growing distress and uneasiness.  Presently he said, with something of
+hope in his voice--
+
+“Perchance he is but mad upon this one strain, and hath his wits
+unmarred as toucheth other matter.  God send it may be so!  We will make
+trial.”
+
+Then he asked Tom a question in Latin, and Tom answered him lamely in
+the same tongue.  The lords and doctors manifested their gratification
+also. The King said--
+
+“‘Twas not according to his schooling and ability, but showeth that his
+mind is but diseased, not stricken fatally.  How say you, sir?”
+
+The physician addressed bowed low, and replied--
+
+“It jumpeth with my own conviction, sire, that thou hast divined
+aright.”
+
+The King looked pleased with this encouragement, coming as it did from
+so excellent authority, and continued with good heart--
+
+“Now mark ye all:  we will try him further.”
+
+He put a question to Tom in French.  Tom stood silent a moment,
+embarrassed by having so many eyes centred upon him, then said
+diffidently--
+
+“I have no knowledge of this tongue, so please your majesty.”
+
+The King fell back upon his couch.  The attendants flew to his
+assistance; but he put them aside, and said--
+
+“Trouble me not--it is nothing but a scurvy faintness.  Raise me! There,
+‘tis sufficient.  Come hither, child; there, rest thy poor troubled head
+upon thy father’s heart, and be at peace.  Thou’lt soon be well:  ’tis
+but a passing fantasy.  Fear thou not; thou’lt soon be well.”  Then
+he turned toward the company:  his gentle manner changed, and baleful
+lightnings began to play from his eyes.  He said--
+
+“List ye all!  This my son is mad; but it is not permanent.  Over-study
+hath done this, and somewhat too much of confinement.  Away with his
+books and teachers! see ye to it.  Pleasure him with sports, beguile him
+in wholesome ways, so that his health come again.”  He raised himself
+higher still, and went on with energy, “He is mad; but he is my son,
+and England’s heir; and, mad or sane, still shall he reign!  And hear ye
+further, and proclaim it: whoso speaketh of this his distemper worketh
+against the peace and order of these realms, and shall to the gallows!
+. . . Give me to drink--I burn:  this sorrow sappeth my strength. . . .
+There, take away the cup. . . . Support me.  There, that is well.  Mad,
+is he?  Were he a thousand times mad, yet is he Prince of Wales, and I
+the King will confirm it.  This very morrow shall he be installed in his
+princely dignity in due and ancient form.  Take instant order for it, my
+lord Hertford.”
+
+One of the nobles knelt at the royal couch, and said--
+
+“The King’s majesty knoweth that the Hereditary Great Marshal of England
+lieth attainted in the Tower.  It were not meet that one attainted--”
+
+“Peace!  Insult not mine ears with his hated name.  Is this man to
+live for ever?  Am I to be baulked of my will?  Is the prince to tarry
+uninstalled, because, forsooth, the realm lacketh an Earl Marshal
+free of treasonable taint to invest him with his honours? No, by the
+splendour of God!  Warn my Parliament to bring me Norfolk’s doom before
+the sun rise again, else shall they answer for it grievously!” {1}
+
+Lord Hertford said--
+
+“The King’s will is law;” and, rising, returned to his former place.
+
+Gradually the wrath faded out of the old King’s face, and he said--
+
+“Kiss me, my prince.  There . . . what fearest thou?  Am I not thy
+loving father?”
+
+“Thou art good to me that am unworthy, O mighty and gracious lord: that
+in truth I know.  But--but--it grieveth me to think of him that is to
+die, and--”
+
+“Ah, ’tis like thee, ’tis like thee!  I know thy heart is still the
+same, even though thy mind hath suffered hurt, for thou wert ever of a
+gentle spirit.  But this duke standeth between thee and thine honours:
+ I will have another in his stead that shall bring no taint to his great
+office. Comfort thee, my prince:  trouble not thy poor head with this
+matter.”
+
+“But is it not I that speed him hence, my liege?  How long might he not
+live, but for me?”
+
+“Take no thought of him, my prince:  he is not worthy.  Kiss me once
+again, and go to thy trifles and amusements; for my malady distresseth
+me.  I am aweary, and would rest.  Go with thine uncle Hertford and thy
+people, and come again when my body is refreshed.”
+
+Tom, heavy-hearted, was conducted from the presence, for this last
+sentence was a death-blow to the hope he had cherished that now he would
+be set free.  Once more he heard the buzz of low voices exclaiming, “The
+prince, the prince comes!”
+
+His spirits sank lower and lower as he moved between the glittering
+files of bowing courtiers; for he recognised that he was indeed a
+captive now, and might remain for ever shut up in this gilded cage, a
+forlorn and friendless prince, except God in his mercy take pity on him
+and set him free.
+
+And, turn where he would, he seemed to see floating in the air the
+severed head and the remembered face of the great Duke of Norfolk, the
+eyes fixed on him reproachfully.
+
+His old dreams had been so pleasant; but this reality was so dreary!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. Tom receives instructions.
+
+Tom was conducted to the principal apartment of a noble suite, and made
+to sit down--a thing which he was loth to do, since there were elderly
+men and men of high degree about him.  He begged them to be seated
+also, but they only bowed their thanks or murmured them, and remained
+standing. He would have insisted, but his ‘uncle’ the Earl of Hertford
+whispered in his ear--
+
+“Prithee, insist not, my lord; it is not meet that they sit in thy
+presence.”
+
+The Lord St. John was announced, and after making obeisance to Tom, he
+said--
+
+“I come upon the King’s errand, concerning a matter which requireth
+privacy.  Will it please your royal highness to dismiss all that attend
+you here, save my lord the Earl of Hertford?”
+
+Observing that Tom did not seem to know how to proceed, Hertford
+whispered him to make a sign with his hand, and not trouble himself to
+speak unless he chose.  When the waiting gentlemen had retired, Lord St.
+John said--
+
+“His majesty commandeth, that for due and weighty reasons of state, the
+prince’s grace shall hide his infirmity in all ways that be within his
+power, till it be passed and he be as he was before.  To wit, that he
+shall deny to none that he is the true prince, and heir to England’s
+greatness; that he shall uphold his princely dignity, and shall receive,
+without word or sign of protest, that reverence and observance which
+unto it do appertain of right and ancient usage; that he shall cease to
+speak to any of that lowly birth and life his malady hath conjured
+out of the unwholesome imaginings of o’er-wrought fancy; that he shall
+strive with diligence to bring unto his memory again those faces which
+he was wont to know--and where he faileth he shall hold his peace,
+neither betraying by semblance of surprise or other sign that he hath
+forgot; that upon occasions of state, whensoever any matter shall
+perplex him as to the thing he should do or the utterance he should
+make, he shall show nought of unrest to the curious that look on, but
+take advice in that matter of the Lord Hertford, or my humble self,
+which are commanded of the King to be upon this service and close at
+call, till this commandment be dissolved. Thus saith the King’s majesty,
+who sendeth greeting to your royal highness, and prayeth that God will
+of His mercy quickly heal you and have you now and ever in His holy
+keeping.”
+
+The Lord St. John made reverence and stood aside.  Tom replied
+resignedly--
+
+“The King hath said it.  None may palter with the King’s command, or fit
+it to his ease, where it doth chafe, with deft evasions. The King shall
+be obeyed.”
+
+Lord Hertford said--
+
+“Touching the King’s majesty’s ordainment concerning books and such like
+serious matters, it may peradventure please your highness to ease your
+time with lightsome entertainment, lest you go wearied to the banquet
+and suffer harm thereby.”
+
+Tom’s face showed inquiring surprise; and a blush followed when he saw
+Lord St. John’s eyes bent sorrowfully upon him.  His lordship said--
+
+“Thy memory still wrongeth thee, and thou hast shown surprise--but
+suffer it not to trouble thee, for ’tis a matter that will not bide,
+but depart with thy mending malady.  My Lord of Hertford speaketh of
+the city’s banquet which the King’s majesty did promise, some two months
+flown, your highness should attend.  Thou recallest it now?”
+
+“It grieves me to confess it had indeed escaped me,” said Tom, in a
+hesitating voice; and blushed again.
+
+At this moment the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey were announced.
+The two lords exchanged significant glances, and Hertford stepped
+quickly toward the door.  As the young girls passed him, he said in a
+low voice--
+
+“I pray ye, ladies, seem not to observe his humours, nor show surprise
+when his memory doth lapse--it will grieve you to note how it doth stick
+at every trifle.”
+
+Meantime Lord St. John was saying in Tom’s ear--
+
+“Please you, sir, keep diligently in mind his majesty’s desire. Remember
+all thou canst--_seem_ to remember all else.  Let them not perceive that
+thou art much changed from thy wont, for thou knowest how tenderly thy
+old play-fellows bear thee in their hearts and how ’twould grieve them.
+Art willing, sir, that I remain?--and thine uncle?”
+
+Tom signified assent with a gesture and a murmured word, for he was
+already learning, and in his simple heart was resolved to acquit himself
+as best he might, according to the King’s command.
+
+In spite of every precaution, the conversation among the young people
+became a little embarrassing at times.  More than once, in truth,
+Tom was near to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to his
+tremendous part; but the tact of the Princess Elizabeth saved him, or a
+word from one or the other of the vigilant lords, thrown in apparently
+by chance, had the same happy effect.  Once the little Lady Jane turned
+to Tom and dismayed him with this question,--
+
+“Hast paid thy duty to the Queen’s majesty to-day, my lord?”
+
+Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about to stammer out something
+at hazard, when Lord St. John took the word and answered for him
+with the easy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter delicate
+difficulties and to be ready for them--
+
+“He hath indeed, madam, and she did greatly hearten him, as touching his
+majesty’s condition; is it not so, your highness?”
+
+Tom mumbled something that stood for assent, but felt that he was
+getting upon dangerous ground.  Somewhat later it was mentioned that
+Tom was to study no more at present, whereupon her little ladyship
+exclaimed--
+
+“‘Tis a pity, ’tis a pity!  Thou wert proceeding bravely.  But bide thy
+time in patience:  it will not be for long.  Thou’lt yet be graced
+with learning like thy father, and make thy tongue master of as many
+languages as his, good my prince.”
+
+“My father!” cried Tom, off his guard for the moment.  “I trow he cannot
+speak his own so that any but the swine that kennel in the styes may
+tell his meaning; and as for learning of any sort soever--”
+
+He looked up and encountered a solemn warning in my Lord St. John’s
+eyes.
+
+He stopped, blushed, then continued low and sadly: “Ah, my malady
+persecuteth me again, and my mind wandereth.  I meant the King’s grace
+no irreverence.”
+
+“We know it, sir,” said the Princess Elizabeth, taking her ‘brother’s’
+hand between her two palms, respectfully but caressingly; “trouble not
+thyself as to that.  The fault is none of thine, but thy distemper’s.”
+
+“Thou’rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady,” said Tom, gratefully, “and my
+heart moveth me to thank thee for’t, an’ I may be so bold.”
+
+Once the giddy little Lady Jane fired a simple Greek phrase at Tom.
+ The Princess Elizabeth’s quick eye saw by the serene blankness of the
+target’s front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly delivered
+a return volley of sounding Greek on Tom’s behalf, and then straightway
+changed the talk to other matters.
+
+Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly, on the whole. Snags and
+sandbars grew less and less frequent, and Tom grew more and more at
+his ease, seeing that all were so lovingly bent upon helping him and
+overlooking his mistakes.  When it came out that the little ladies were
+to accompany him to the Lord Mayor’s banquet in the evening, his heart
+gave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt that he should not be
+friendless, now, among that multitude of strangers; whereas, an
+hour earlier, the idea of their going with him would have been an
+insupportable terror to him.
+
+Tom’s guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort in the
+interview than the other parties to it.  They felt much as if they were
+piloting a great ship through a dangerous channel; they were on the
+alert constantly, and found their office no child’s play. Wherefore,
+at last, when the ladies’ visit was drawing to a close and the Lord
+Guilford Dudley was announced, they not only felt that their charge had
+been sufficiently taxed for the present, but also that they themselves
+were not in the best condition to take their ship back and make their
+anxious voyage all over again.  So they respectfully advised Tom to
+excuse himself, which he was very glad to do, although a slight shade
+of disappointment might have been observed upon my Lady Jane’s face when
+she heard the splendid stripling denied admittance.
+
+There was a pause now, a sort of waiting silence which Tom could not
+understand.  He glanced at Lord Hertford, who gave him a sign--but he
+failed to understand that also.  The ready Elizabeth came to the rescue
+with her usual easy grace.  She made reverence and said--
+
+“Have we leave of the prince’s grace my brother to go?”
+
+Tom said--
+
+“Indeed your ladyships can have whatsoever of me they will, for the
+asking; yet would I rather give them any other thing that in my poor
+power lieth, than leave to take the light and blessing of their presence
+hence.  Give ye good den, and God be with ye!” Then he smiled inwardly
+at the thought, “‘Tis not for nought I have dwelt but among princes in
+my reading, and taught my tongue some slight trick of their broidered
+and gracious speech withal!”
+
+When the illustrious maidens were gone, Tom turned wearily to his
+keepers and said--
+
+“May it please your lordships to grant me leave to go into some corner
+and rest me?”
+
+Lord Hertford said--
+
+“So please your highness, it is for you to command, it is for us to
+obey. That thou should’st rest is indeed a needful thing, since thou
+must journey to the city presently.”
+
+He touched a bell, and a page appeared, who was ordered to desire the
+presence of Sir William Herbert.  This gentleman came straightway, and
+conducted Tom to an inner apartment.  Tom’s first movement there was
+to reach for a cup of water; but a silk-and-velvet servitor seized it,
+dropped upon one knee, and offered it to him on a golden salver.
+
+Next the tired captive sat down and was going to take off his buskins,
+timidly asking leave with his eye, but another silk-and-velvet
+discomforter went down upon his knees and took the office from him.  He
+made two or three further efforts to help himself, but being promptly
+forestalled each time, he finally gave up, with a sigh of resignation
+and a murmured “Beshrew me, but I marvel they do not require to breathe
+for me also!”  Slippered, and wrapped in a sumptuous robe, he laid
+himself down at last to rest, but not to sleep, for his head was too
+full of thoughts and the room too full of people.  He could not dismiss
+the former, so they stayed; he did not know enough to dismiss the
+latter, so they stayed also, to his vast regret--and theirs.
+
+Tom’s departure had left his two noble guardians alone.  They mused a
+while, with much head-shaking and walking the floor, then Lord St. John
+said--
+
+“Plainly, what dost thou think?”
+
+“Plainly, then, this.  The King is near his end; my nephew is mad--mad
+will mount the throne, and mad remain.  God protect England, since she
+will need it!”
+
+“Verily it promiseth so, indeed.  But . . . have you no misgivings as to
+. . . as to . . .”
+
+The speaker hesitated, and finally stopped.  He evidently felt that he
+was upon delicate ground.  Lord Hertford stopped before him, looked into
+his face with a clear, frank eye, and said--
+
+“Speak on--there is none to hear but me.  Misgivings as to what?”
+
+“I am full loth to word the thing that is in my mind, and thou so near
+to him in blood, my lord.  But craving pardon if I do offend, seemeth it
+not strange that madness could so change his port and manner?--not but
+that his port and speech are princely still, but that they _differ_,
+in one unweighty trifle or another, from what his custom was aforetime.
+ Seemeth it not strange that madness should filch from his memory his
+father’s very lineaments; the customs and observances that are his due
+from such as be about him; and, leaving him his Latin, strip him of his
+Greek and French?  My lord, be not offended, but ease my mind of its
+disquiet and receive my grateful thanks.  It haunteth me, his saying he
+was not the prince, and so--”
+
+“Peace, my lord, thou utterest treason!  Hast forgot the King’s command?
+Remember I am party to thy crime if I but listen.”
+
+St. John paled, and hastened to say--
+
+“I was in fault, I do confess it.  Betray me not, grant me this grace
+out of thy courtesy, and I will neither think nor speak of this thing
+more. Deal not hardly with me, sir, else am I ruined.”
+
+“I am content, my lord.  So thou offend not again, here or in the
+ears of others, it shall be as though thou hadst not spoken.  But thou
+need’st not have misgivings.  He is my sister’s son; are not his voice,
+his face, his form, familiar to me from his cradle? Madness can do all
+the odd conflicting things thou seest in him, and more.  Dost not recall
+how that the old Baron Marley, being mad, forgot the favour of his
+own countenance that he had known for sixty years, and held it was
+another’s; nay, even claimed he was the son of Mary Magdalene, and that
+his head was made of Spanish glass; and, sooth to say, he suffered none
+to touch it, lest by mischance some heedless hand might shiver it?  Give
+thy misgivings easement, good my lord.  This is the very prince--I know
+him well--and soon will be thy king; it may advantage thee to bear this
+in mind, and more dwell upon it than the other.”
+
+After some further talk, in which the Lord St. John covered up his
+mistake as well as he could by repeated protests that his faith was
+thoroughly grounded now, and could not be assailed by doubts again, the
+Lord Hertford relieved his fellow-keeper, and sat down to keep watch and
+ward alone.  He was soon deep in meditation, and evidently the longer he
+thought, the more he was bothered.  By-and-by he began to pace the floor
+and mutter.
+
+“Tush, he _must_ be the prince!  Will any be in all the land maintain
+there can be two, not of one blood and birth, so marvellously twinned?
+ And even were it so, ’twere yet a stranger miracle that chance should
+cast the one into the other’s place. Nay, ’tis folly, folly, folly!”
+
+Presently he said--
+
+“Now were he impostor and called himself prince, look you _that_ would
+be natural; that would be reasonable.  But lived ever an impostor yet,
+who, being called prince by the king, prince by the court, prince by
+all, _denied_ his dignity and pleaded against his exaltation?  _No_!  By
+the soul of St. Swithin, no!  This is the true prince, gone mad!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. Tom’s first royal dinner.
+
+Somewhat after one in the afternoon, Tom resignedly underwent the ordeal
+of being dressed for dinner.  He found himself as finely clothed as
+before, but everything different, everything changed, from his ruff to
+his stockings.  He was presently conducted with much state to a spacious
+and ornate apartment, where a table was already set for one.  Its
+furniture was all of massy gold, and beautified with designs which
+well-nigh made it priceless, since they were the work of Benvenuto.  The
+room was half-filled with noble servitors.  A chaplain said grace, and
+Tom was about to fall to, for hunger had long been constitutional with
+him, but was interrupted by my lord the Earl of Berkeley, who fastened a
+napkin about his neck; for the great post of Diaperers to the Prince
+of Wales was hereditary in this nobleman’s family.  Tom’s cupbearer was
+present, and forestalled all his attempts to help himself to wine.  The
+Taster to his highness the Prince of Wales was there also, prepared to
+taste any suspicious dish upon requirement, and run the risk of being
+poisoned.  He was only an ornamental appendage at this time, and was
+seldom called upon to exercise his function; but there had been times,
+not many generations past, when the office of taster had its perils,
+and was not a grandeur to be desired.  Why they did not use a dog or a
+plumber seems strange; but all the ways of royalty are strange.  My
+Lord d’Arcy, First Groom of the Chamber, was there, to do goodness knows
+what; but there he was--let that suffice.  The Lord Chief Butler was
+there, and stood behind Tom’s chair, overseeing the solemnities, under
+command of the Lord Great Steward and the Lord Head Cook, who stood
+near.  Tom had three hundred and eighty-four servants beside these;
+but they were not all in that room, of course, nor the quarter of them;
+neither was Tom aware yet that they existed.
+
+All those that were present had been well drilled within the hour to
+remember that the prince was temporarily out of his head, and to be
+careful to show no surprise at his vagaries.  These ‘vagaries’ were
+soon on exhibition before them; but they only moved their compassion and
+their sorrow, not their mirth.  It was a heavy affliction to them to see
+the beloved prince so stricken.
+
+Poor Tom ate with his fingers mainly; but no one smiled at it, or even
+seemed to observe it.  He inspected his napkin curiously, and with deep
+interest, for it was of a very dainty and beautiful fabric, then said
+with simplicity--
+
+“Prithee, take it away, lest in mine unheedfulness it be soiled.”
+
+The Hereditary Diaperer took it away with reverent manner, and without
+word or protest of any sort.
+
+Tom examined the turnips and the lettuce with interest, and asked what
+they were, and if they were to be eaten; for it was only recently that
+men had begun to raise these things in England in place of importing
+them as luxuries from Holland. {1}  His question was answered with grave
+respect, and no surprise manifested.  When he had finished his dessert,
+he filled his pockets with nuts; but nobody appeared to be aware of it,
+or disturbed by it.  But the next moment he was himself disturbed by
+it, and showed discomposure; for this was the only service he had been
+permitted to do with his own hands during the meal, and he did not doubt
+that he had done a most improper and unprincely thing.  At that moment
+the muscles of his nose began to twitch, and the end of that organ to
+lift and wrinkle.  This continued, and Tom began to evince a growing
+distress.  He looked appealingly, first at one and then another of the
+lords about him, and tears came into his eyes.  They sprang forward with
+dismay in their faces, and begged to know his trouble.  Tom said with
+genuine anguish--
+
+“I crave your indulgence:  my nose itcheth cruelly.  What is the custom
+and usage in this emergence?  Prithee, speed, for ’tis but a little time
+that I can bear it.”
+
+None smiled; but all were sore perplexed, and looked one to the other
+in deep tribulation for counsel.  But behold, here was a dead wall, and
+nothing in English history to tell how to get over it.  The Master of
+Ceremonies was not present:  there was no one who felt safe to venture
+upon this uncharted sea, or risk the attempt to solve this solemn
+problem.  Alas! there was no Hereditary Scratcher.  Meantime the tears
+had overflowed their banks, and begun to trickle down Tom’s cheeks.  His
+twitching nose was pleading more urgently than ever for relief.  At last
+nature broke down the barriers of etiquette:  Tom lifted up an inward
+prayer for pardon if he was doing wrong, and brought relief to the
+burdened hearts of his court by scratching his nose himself.
+
+His meal being ended, a lord came and held before him a broad, shallow,
+golden dish with fragrant rosewater in it, to cleanse his mouth and
+fingers with; and my lord the Hereditary Diaperer stood by with a napkin
+for his use.  Tom gazed at the dish a puzzled moment or two, then raised
+it to his lips, and gravely took a draught.  Then he returned it to the
+waiting lord, and said--
+
+“Nay, it likes me not, my lord:  it hath a pretty flavour, but it
+wanteth strength.”
+
+This new eccentricity of the prince’s ruined mind made all the hearts
+about him ache; but the sad sight moved none to merriment.
+
+Tom’s next unconscious blunder was to get up and leave the table
+just when the chaplain had taken his stand behind his chair, and with
+uplifted hands, and closed, uplifted eyes, was in the act of beginning
+the blessing.  Still nobody seemed to perceive that the prince had done
+a thing unusual.
+
+By his own request our small friend was now conducted to his private
+cabinet, and left there alone to his own devices.  Hanging upon hooks in
+the oaken wainscoting were the several pieces of a suit of shining steel
+armour, covered all over with beautiful designs exquisitely inlaid
+in gold.  This martial panoply belonged to the true prince--a recent
+present from Madam Parr the Queen. Tom put on the greaves, the
+gauntlets, the plumed helmet, and such other pieces as he could don
+without assistance, and for a while was minded to call for help and
+complete the matter, but bethought him of the nuts he had brought away
+from dinner, and the joy it would be to eat them with no crowd to eye
+him, and no Grand Hereditaries to pester him with undesired services;
+so he restored the pretty things to their several places, and soon was
+cracking nuts, and feeling almost naturally happy for the first time
+since God for his sins had made him a prince.  When the nuts were all
+gone, he stumbled upon some inviting books in a closet, among them one
+about the etiquette of the English court.  This was a prize. He lay down
+upon a sumptuous divan, and proceeded to instruct himself with honest
+zeal.  Let us leave him there for the present.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. The Question of the Seal.
+
+About five o’clock Henry VIII. awoke out of an unrefreshing nap, and
+muttered to himself, “Troublous dreams, troublous dreams! Mine end is
+now at hand:  so say these warnings, and my failing pulses do confirm
+it.” Presently a wicked light flamed up in his eye, and he muttered,
+“Yet will not I die till _He_ go before.”
+
+His attendants perceiving that he was awake, one of them asked his
+pleasure concerning the Lord Chancellor, who was waiting without.
+
+“Admit him, admit him!” exclaimed the King eagerly.
+
+The Lord Chancellor entered, and knelt by the King’s couch, saying--
+
+“I have given order, and, according to the King’s command, the peers of
+the realm, in their robes, do now stand at the bar of the House, where,
+having confirmed the Duke of Norfolk’s doom, they humbly wait his
+majesty’s further pleasure in the matter.”
+
+The King’s face lit up with a fierce joy.  Said he--
+
+“Lift me up!  In mine own person will I go before my Parliament, and
+with mine own hand will I seal the warrant that rids me of--”
+
+His voice failed; an ashen pallor swept the flush from his cheeks; and
+the attendants eased him back upon his pillows, and hurriedly assisted
+him with restoratives.  Presently he said sorrowfully--
+
+“Alack, how have I longed for this sweet hour! and lo, too late it
+cometh, and I am robbed of this so coveted chance.  But speed ye, speed
+ye! let others do this happy office sith ’tis denied to me. I put my
+Great Seal in commission:  choose thou the lords that shall compose it,
+and get ye to your work.  Speed ye, man!  Before the sun shall rise and
+set again, bring me his head that I may see it.”
+
+“According to the King’s command, so shall it be.  Will’t please your
+majesty to order that the Seal be now restored to me, so that I may
+forth upon the business?”
+
+“The Seal?  Who keepeth the Seal but thou?”
+
+“Please your majesty, you did take it from me two days since, saying it
+should no more do its office till your own royal hand should use it upon
+the Duke of Norfolk’s warrant.”
+
+“Why, so in sooth I did:  I do remember. . . . What did I with it?...
+I am very feeble. . . . So oft these days doth my memory play the
+traitor with me. . . . ’tis strange, strange--”
+
+The King dropped into inarticulate mumblings, shaking his grey head
+weakly from time to time, and gropingly trying to recollect what he
+had done with the Seal.  At last my Lord Hertford ventured to kneel and
+offer information--
+
+“Sire, if that I may be so bold, here be several that do remember with
+me how that you gave the Great Seal into the hands of his highness the
+Prince of Wales to keep against the day that--”
+
+“True, most true!” interrupted the King.  “Fetch it!  Go:  time flieth!”
+
+Lord Hertford flew to Tom, but returned to the King before very long,
+troubled and empty-handed.  He delivered himself to this effect--
+
+“It grieveth me, my lord the King, to bear so heavy and unwelcome
+tidings; but it is the will of God that the prince’s affliction abideth
+still, and he cannot recall to mind that he received the Seal.  So came
+I quickly to report, thinking it were waste of precious time, and
+little worth withal, that any should attempt to search the long array of
+chambers and saloons that belong unto his royal high--”
+
+A groan from the King interrupted the lord at this point.  After a
+little while his majesty said, with a deep sadness in his tone--
+
+“Trouble him no more, poor child.  The hand of God lieth heavy upon him,
+and my heart goeth out in loving compassion for him, and sorrow that I
+may not bear his burden on mine old trouble-weighted shoulders, and so
+bring him peace.”
+
+He closed his eyes, fell to mumbling, and presently was silent. After
+a time he opened his eyes again, and gazed vacantly around until his
+glance rested upon the kneeling Lord Chancellor. Instantly his face
+flushed with wrath--
+
+“What, thou here yet!  By the glory of God, an’ thou gettest not about
+that traitor’s business, thy mitre shall have holiday the morrow for
+lack of a head to grace withal!”
+
+The trembling Chancellor answered--
+
+“Good your Majesty, I cry you mercy!  I but waited for the Seal.”
+
+“Man, hast lost thy wits?  The small Seal which aforetime I was wont
+to take with me abroad lieth in my treasury.  And, since the Great Seal
+hath flown away, shall not it suffice?  Hast lost thy wits?  Begone!
+ And hark ye--come no more till thou do bring his head.”
+
+The poor Chancellor was not long in removing himself from this dangerous
+vicinity; nor did the commission waste time in giving the royal assent
+to the work of the slavish Parliament, and appointing the morrow for the
+beheading of the premier peer of England, the luckless Duke of Norfolk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. The river pageant.
+
+At nine in the evening the whole vast river-front of the palace was
+blazing with light.  The river itself, as far as the eye could reach
+citywards, was so thickly covered with watermen’s boats and with
+pleasure-barges, all fringed with coloured lanterns, and gently agitated
+by the waves, that it resembled a glowing and limitless garden of
+flowers stirred to soft motion by summer winds.  The grand terrace of
+stone steps leading down to the water, spacious enough to mass the army
+of a German principality upon, was a picture to see, with its ranks
+of royal halberdiers in polished armour, and its troops of brilliantly
+costumed servitors flitting up and down, and to and fro, in the hurry of
+preparation.
+
+Presently a command was given, and immediately all living creatures
+vanished from the steps.  Now the air was heavy with the hush of
+suspense and expectancy.  As far as one’s vision could carry, he might
+see the myriads of people in the boats rise up, and shade their eyes
+from the glare of lanterns and torches, and gaze toward the palace.
+
+A file of forty or fifty state barges drew up to the steps.  They were
+richly gilt, and their lofty prows and sterns were elaborately carved.
+Some of them were decorated with banners and streamers; some with
+cloth-of-gold and arras embroidered with coats-of-arms; others with
+silken flags that had numberless little silver bells fastened to them,
+which shook out tiny showers of joyous music whenever the breezes
+fluttered them; others of yet higher pretensions, since they belonged to
+nobles in the prince’s immediate service, had their sides picturesquely
+fenced with shields gorgeously emblazoned with armorial bearings.  Each
+state barge was towed by a tender.  Besides the rowers, these tenders
+carried each a number of men-at-arms in glossy helmet and breastplate,
+and a company of musicians.
+
+The advance-guard of the expected procession now appeared in the great
+gateway, a troop of halberdiers.  ‘They were dressed in striped hose of
+black and tawny, velvet caps graced at the sides with silver roses, and
+doublets of murrey and blue cloth, embroidered on the front and back
+with the three feathers, the prince’s blazon, woven in gold.  Their
+halberd staves were covered with crimson velvet, fastened with gilt
+nails, and ornamented with gold tassels.  Filing off on the right and
+left, they formed two long lines, extending from the gateway of the
+palace to the water’s edge.  A thick rayed cloth or carpet was
+then unfolded, and laid down between them by attendants in the
+gold-and-crimson liveries of the prince.  This done, a flourish of
+trumpets resounded from within.  A lively prelude arose from the
+musicians on the water; and two ushers with white wands marched with a
+slow and stately pace from the portal.  They were followed by an officer
+bearing the civic mace, after whom came another carrying the city’s
+sword; then several sergeants of the city guard, in their full
+accoutrements, and with badges on their sleeves; then the Garter
+King-at-arms, in his tabard; then several Knights of the Bath, each with
+a white lace on his sleeve; then their esquires; then the judges, in
+their robes of scarlet and coifs; then the Lord High Chancellor of
+England, in a robe of scarlet, open before, and purfled with minever;
+then a deputation of aldermen, in their scarlet cloaks; and then the
+heads of the different civic companies, in their robes of state. Now
+came twelve French gentlemen, in splendid habiliments, consisting of
+pourpoints of white damask barred with gold, short mantles of
+crimson velvet lined with violet taffeta, and carnation coloured
+hauts-de-chausses, and took their way down the steps.  They were of the
+suite of the French ambassador, and were followed by twelve cavaliers of
+the suite of the Spanish ambassador, clothed in black velvet, unrelieved
+by any ornament.  Following these came several great English nobles with
+their attendants.’
+
+There was a flourish of trumpets within; and the Prince’s uncle, the
+future great Duke of Somerset, emerged from the gateway, arrayed in a
+‘doublet of black cloth-of-gold, and a cloak of crimson satin flowered
+with gold, and ribanded with nets of silver.’  He turned, doffed
+his plumed cap, bent his body in a low reverence, and began to step
+backward, bowing at each step.  A prolonged trumpet-blast followed, and
+a proclamation, “Way for the high and mighty the Lord Edward, Prince of
+Wales!”  High aloft on the palace walls a long line of red tongues of
+flame leapt forth with a thunder-crash; the massed world on the river
+burst into a mighty roar of welcome; and Tom Canty, the cause and hero
+of it all, stepped into view and slightly bowed his princely head.
+
+He was ‘magnificently habited in a doublet of white satin, with a
+front-piece of purple cloth-of-tissue, powdered with diamonds, and edged
+with ermine.  Over this he wore a mantle of white cloth-of-gold, pounced
+with the triple-feathered crest, lined with blue satin, set with pearls
+and precious stones, and fastened with a clasp of brilliants.  About his
+neck hung the order of the Garter, and several princely foreign orders;’
+and wherever light fell upon him jewels responded with a blinding flash.
+ O Tom Canty, born in a hovel, bred in the gutters of London, familiar
+with rags and dirt and misery, what a spectacle is this!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. The Prince in the toils.
+
+We left John Canty dragging the rightful prince into Offal Court, with
+a noisy and delighted mob at his heels.  There was but one person in it
+who offered a pleading word for the captive, and he was not heeded; he
+was hardly even heard, so great was the turmoil.  The Prince continued
+to struggle for freedom, and to rage against the treatment he was
+suffering, until John Canty lost what little patience was left in him,
+and raised his oaken cudgel in a sudden fury over the Prince’s head.
+ The single pleader for the lad sprang to stop the man’s arm, and the
+blow descended upon his own wrist.  Canty roared out--
+
+“Thou’lt meddle, wilt thou?  Then have thy reward.”
+
+His cudgel crashed down upon the meddler’s head:  there was a groan, a
+dim form sank to the ground among the feet of the crowd, and the next
+moment it lay there in the dark alone.  The mob pressed on, their
+enjoyment nothing disturbed by this episode.
+
+Presently the Prince found himself in John Canty’s abode, with the door
+closed against the outsiders.  By the vague light of a tallow candle
+which was thrust into a bottle, he made out the main features of the
+loathsome den, and also the occupants of it.  Two frowsy girls and
+a middle-aged woman cowered against the wall in one corner, with the
+aspect of animals habituated to harsh usage, and expecting and dreading
+it now. From another corner stole a withered hag with streaming grey
+hair and malignant eyes.  John Canty said to this one--
+
+“Tarry!  There’s fine mummeries here.  Mar them not till thou’st enjoyed
+them:  then let thy hand be heavy as thou wilt.  Stand forth, lad.  Now
+say thy foolery again, an thou’st not forgot it. Name thy name.  Who art
+thou?”
+
+The insulted blood mounted to the little prince’s cheek once more, and
+he lifted a steady and indignant gaze to the man’s face and said--
+
+“‘Tis but ill-breeding in such as thou to command me to speak.  I tell
+thee now, as I told thee before, I am Edward, Prince of Wales, and none
+other.”
+
+The stunning surprise of this reply nailed the hag’s feet to the floor
+where she stood, and almost took her breath.  She stared at the Prince
+in stupid amazement, which so amused her ruffianly son, that he burst
+into a roar of laughter.  But the effect upon Tom Canty’s mother and
+sisters was different.  Their dread of bodily injury gave way at once to
+distress of a different sort.  They ran forward with woe and dismay in
+their faces, exclaiming--
+
+“Oh, poor Tom, poor lad!”
+
+The mother fell on her knees before the Prince, put her hands upon his
+shoulders, and gazed yearningly into his face through her rising tears.
+Then she said--
+
+“Oh, my poor boy!  Thy foolish reading hath wrought its woeful work at
+last, and ta’en thy wit away.  Ah! why did’st thou cleave to it when I
+so warned thee ‘gainst it?  Thou’st broke thy mother’s heart.”
+
+The Prince looked into her face, and said gently--
+
+“Thy son is well, and hath not lost his wits, good dame.  Comfort thee:
+let me to the palace where he is, and straightway will the King my
+father restore him to thee.”
+
+“The King thy father!  Oh, my child! unsay these words that be freighted
+with death for thee, and ruin for all that be near to thee.  Shake of
+this gruesome dream.  Call back thy poor wandering memory.  Look upon
+me. Am not I thy mother that bore thee, and loveth thee?”
+
+The Prince shook his head and reluctantly said--
+
+“God knoweth I am loth to grieve thy heart; but truly have I never
+looked upon thy face before.”
+
+The woman sank back to a sitting posture on the floor, and, covering her
+eyes with her hands, gave way to heart-broken sobs and wailings.
+
+“Let the show go on!” shouted Canty.  “What, Nan!--what, Bet! mannerless
+wenches! will ye stand in the Prince’s presence?  Upon your knees, ye
+pauper scum, and do him reverence!”
+
+He followed this with another horse-laugh.  The girls began to plead
+timidly for their brother; and Nan said--
+
+“An thou wilt but let him to bed, father, rest and sleep will heal his
+madness:  prithee, do.”
+
+“Do, father,” said Bet; “he is more worn than is his wont.  To-morrow
+will he be himself again, and will beg with diligence, and come not
+empty home again.”
+
+This remark sobered the father’s joviality, and brought his mind to
+business.  He turned angrily upon the Prince, and said--
+
+“The morrow must we pay two pennies to him that owns this hole; two
+pennies, mark ye--all this money for a half-year’s rent, else out of
+this we go.  Show what thou’st gathered with thy lazy begging.”
+
+The Prince said--
+
+“Offend me not with thy sordid matters.  I tell thee again I am the
+King’s son.”
+
+A sounding blow upon the Prince’s shoulder from Canty’s broad palm
+sent him staggering into goodwife Canty’s arms, who clasped him to her
+breast, and sheltered him from a pelting rain of cuffs and slaps by
+interposing her own person.  The frightened girls retreated to their
+corner; but the grandmother stepped eagerly forward to assist her son.
+ The Prince sprang away from Mrs. Canty, exclaiming--
+
+“Thou shalt not suffer for me, madam.  Let these swine do their will
+upon me alone.”
+
+This speech infuriated the swine to such a degree that they set about
+their work without waste of time.  Between them they belaboured the boy
+right soundly, and then gave the girls and their mother a beating for
+showing sympathy for the victim.
+
+“Now,” said Canty, “to bed, all of ye.  The entertainment has tired me.”
+
+The light was put out, and the family retired.  As soon as the snorings
+of the head of the house and his mother showed that they were asleep,
+the young girls crept to where the Prince lay, and covered him tenderly
+from the cold with straw and rags; and their mother crept to him also,
+and stroked his hair, and cried over him, whispering broken words of
+comfort and compassion in his ear the while.  She had saved a morsel for
+him to eat, also; but the boy’s pains had swept away all appetite--at
+least for black and tasteless crusts.  He was touched by her brave and
+costly defence of him, and by her commiseration; and he thanked her in
+very noble and princely words, and begged her to go to her sleep and try
+to forget her sorrows.  And he added that the King his father would not
+let her loyal kindness and devotion go unrewarded.  This return to his
+‘madness’ broke her heart anew, and she strained him to her breast again
+and again, and then went back, drowned in tears, to her bed.
+
+As she lay thinking and mourning, the suggestion began to creep into
+her mind that there was an undefinable something about this boy that was
+lacking in Tom Canty, mad or sane.  She could not describe it, she could
+not tell just what it was, and yet her sharp mother-instinct seemed to
+detect it and perceive it.  What if the boy were really not her son,
+after all?  Oh, absurd!  She almost smiled at the idea, spite of her
+griefs and troubles.  No matter, she found that it was an idea that
+would not ‘down,’ but persisted in haunting her.  It pursued her, it
+harassed her, it clung to her, and refused to be put away or ignored.
+ At last she perceived that there was not going to be any peace for her
+until she should devise a test that should prove, clearly and without
+question, whether this lad was her son or not, and so banish these
+wearing and worrying doubts.  Ah, yes, this was plainly the right way
+out of the difficulty; therefore she set her wits to work at once to
+contrive that test.  But it was an easier thing to propose than to
+accomplish.  She turned over in her mind one promising test after
+another, but was obliged to relinquish them all--none of them were
+absolutely sure, absolutely perfect; and an imperfect one could not
+satisfy her.  Evidently she was racking her head in vain--it seemed
+manifest that she must give the matter up.  While this depressing
+thought was passing through her mind, her ear caught the regular
+breathing of the boy, and she knew he had fallen asleep.  And while she
+listened, the measured breathing was broken by a soft, startled
+cry, such as one utters in a troubled dream.  This chance occurrence
+furnished her instantly with a plan worth all her laboured tests
+combined.  She at once set herself feverishly, but noiselessly, to work
+to relight her candle, muttering to herself, “Had I but seen him _then_,
+I should have known!  Since that day, when he was little, that the
+powder burst in his face, he hath never been startled of a sudden out of
+his dreams or out of his thinkings, but he hath cast his hand before his
+eyes, even as he did that day; and not as others would do it, with the
+palm inward, but always with the palm turned outward--I have seen it a
+hundred times, and it hath never varied nor ever failed.  Yes, I shall
+soon know, now!”
+
+By this time she had crept to the slumbering boy’s side, with the
+candle, shaded, in her hand.  She bent heedfully and warily over him,
+scarcely breathing in her suppressed excitement, and suddenly flashed
+the light in his face and struck the floor by his ear with her knuckles.
+ The sleeper’s eyes sprang wide open, and he cast a startled stare about
+him--but he made no special movement with his hands.
+
+The poor woman was smitten almost helpless with surprise and grief;
+but she contrived to hide her emotions, and to soothe the boy to sleep
+again; then she crept apart and communed miserably with herself upon
+the disastrous result of her experiment.  She tried to believe that her
+Tom’s madness had banished this habitual gesture of his; but she could
+not do it.  “No,” she said, “his _hands_ are not mad; they could not
+unlearn so old a habit in so brief a time.  Oh, this is a heavy day for
+me!”
+
+Still, hope was as stubborn now as doubt had been before; she could not
+bring herself to accept the verdict of the test; she must try the thing
+again--the failure must have been only an accident; so she startled the
+boy out of his sleep a second and a third time, at intervals--with the
+same result which had marked the first test; then she dragged herself to
+bed, and fell sorrowfully asleep, saying, “But I cannot give him up--oh
+no, I cannot, I cannot--he _must_ be my boy!”
+
+The poor mother’s interruptions having ceased, and the Prince’s pains
+having gradually lost their power to disturb him, utter weariness at
+last sealed his eyes in a profound and restful sleep. Hour after hour
+slipped away, and still he slept like the dead. Thus four or five hours
+passed. Then his stupor began to lighten. Presently, while half asleep
+and half awake, he murmured--
+
+“Sir William!”
+
+After a moment--
+
+“Ho, Sir William Herbert!  Hie thee hither, and list to the strangest
+dream that ever . . . Sir William! dost hear?  Man, I did think me
+changed to a pauper, and . . . Ho there!  Guards! Sir William!  What!
+is there no groom of the chamber in waiting? Alack! it shall go hard
+with--”
+
+“What aileth thee?” asked a whisper near him.  “Who art thou calling?”
+
+“Sir William Herbert.  Who art thou?”
+
+“I?  Who should I be, but thy sister Nan?  Oh, Tom, I had forgot!
+Thou’rt mad yet--poor lad, thou’rt mad yet:  would I had never woke to
+know it again!  But prithee master thy tongue, lest we be all beaten
+till we die!”
+
+The startled Prince sprang partly up, but a sharp reminder from his
+stiffened bruises brought him to himself, and he sank back among his
+foul straw with a moan and the ejaculation--
+
+“Alas! it was no dream, then!”
+
+In a moment all the heavy sorrow and misery which sleep had banished
+were upon him again, and he realised that he was no longer a petted
+prince in a palace, with the adoring eyes of a nation upon him, but
+a pauper, an outcast, clothed in rags, prisoner in a den fit only for
+beasts, and consorting with beggars and thieves.
+
+In the midst of his grief he began to be conscious of hilarious noises
+and shoutings, apparently but a block or two away.  The next moment
+there were several sharp raps at the door; John Canty ceased from
+snoring and said--
+
+“Who knocketh?  What wilt thou?”
+
+A voice answered--
+
+“Know’st thou who it was thou laid thy cudgel on?”
+
+“No.  Neither know I, nor care.”
+
+“Belike thou’lt change thy note eftsoons.  An thou would save thy neck,
+nothing but flight may stead thee.  The man is this moment delivering up
+the ghost.  ’Tis the priest, Father Andrew!”
+
+“God-a-mercy!” exclaimed Canty.  He roused his family, and hoarsely
+commanded, “Up with ye all and fly--or bide where ye are and perish!”
+
+Scarcely five minutes later the Canty household were in the street and
+flying for their lives.  John Canty held the Prince by the wrist, and
+hurried him along the dark way, giving him this caution in a low voice--
+
+“Mind thy tongue, thou mad fool, and speak not our name.  I will choose
+me a new name, speedily, to throw the law’s dogs off the scent.  Mind
+thy tongue, I tell thee!”
+
+He growled these words to the rest of the family--
+
+“If it so chance that we be separated, let each make for London Bridge;
+whoso findeth himself as far as the last linen-draper’s shop on the
+bridge, let him tarry there till the others be come, then will we flee
+into Southwark together.”
+
+At this moment the party burst suddenly out of darkness into light;
+and not only into light, but into the midst of a multitude of singing,
+dancing, and shouting people, massed together on the river frontage.
+There was a line of bonfires stretching as far as one could see, up
+and down the Thames; London Bridge was illuminated; Southwark Bridge
+likewise; the entire river was aglow with the flash and sheen of
+coloured lights; and constant explosions of fireworks filled the skies
+with an intricate commingling of shooting splendours and a thick rain
+of dazzling sparks that almost turned night into day; everywhere were
+crowds of revellers; all London seemed to be at large.
+
+John Canty delivered himself of a furious curse and commanded a retreat;
+but it was too late.  He and his tribe were swallowed up in that
+swarming hive of humanity, and hopelessly separated from each other in
+an instant. We are not considering that the Prince was one of his tribe;
+Canty still kept his grip upon him.  The Prince’s heart was beating high
+with hopes of escape, now.  A burly waterman, considerably exalted with
+liquor, found himself rudely shoved by Canty in his efforts to plough
+through the crowd; he laid his great hand on Canty’s shoulder and said--
+
+“Nay, whither so fast, friend?  Dost canker thy soul with sordid
+business when all that be leal men and true make holiday?”
+
+“Mine affairs are mine own, they concern thee not,” answered Canty,
+roughly; “take away thy hand and let me pass.”
+
+“Sith that is thy humour, thou’lt _not_ pass, till thou’st drunk to the
+Prince of Wales, I tell thee that,” said the waterman, barring the way
+resolutely.
+
+“Give me the cup, then, and make speed, make speed!”
+
+Other revellers were interested by this time.  They cried out--
+
+“The loving-cup, the loving-cup! make the sour knave drink the
+loving-cup, else will we feed him to the fishes.”
+
+So a huge loving-cup was brought; the waterman, grasping it by one of
+its handles, and with the other hand bearing up the end of an imaginary
+napkin, presented it in due and ancient form to Canty, who had to grasp
+the opposite handle with one of his hands and take off the lid with the
+other, according to ancient custom. This left the Prince hand-free for
+a second, of course.  He wasted no time, but dived among the forest of
+legs about him and disappeared.  In another moment he could not have
+been harder to find, under that tossing sea of life, if its billows had
+been the Atlantic’s and he a lost sixpence.
+
+He very soon realised this fact, and straightway busied himself about
+his own affairs without further thought of John Canty.  He quickly
+realised another thing, too.  To wit, that a spurious Prince of Wales
+was being feasted by the city in his stead.  He easily concluded that
+the pauper lad, Tom Canty, had deliberately taken advantage of his
+stupendous opportunity and become a usurper.
+
+Therefore there was but one course to pursue--find his way to the
+Guildhall, make himself known, and denounce the impostor.  He also made
+up his mind that Tom should be allowed a reasonable time for spiritual
+preparation, and then be hanged, drawn and quartered, according to the
+law and usage of the day in cases of high treason.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. At Guildhall.
+
+The royal barge, attended by its gorgeous fleet, took its stately way
+down the Thames through the wilderness of illuminated boats. The air was
+laden with music; the river banks were beruffled with joy-flames; the
+distant city lay in a soft luminous glow from its countless invisible
+bonfires; above it rose many a slender spire into the sky, incrusted
+with sparkling lights, wherefore in their remoteness they seemed like
+jewelled lances thrust aloft; as the fleet swept along, it was greeted
+from the banks with a continuous hoarse roar of cheers and the ceaseless
+flash and boom of artillery.
+
+To Tom Canty, half buried in his silken cushions, these sounds and this
+spectacle were a wonder unspeakably sublime and astonishing. To his
+little friends at his side, the Princess Elizabeth and the Lady Jane
+Grey, they were nothing.
+
+Arrived at the Dowgate, the fleet was towed up the limpid Walbrook
+(whose channel has now been for two centuries buried out of sight under
+acres of buildings) to Bucklersbury, past houses and under bridges
+populous with merry-makers and brilliantly lighted, and at last came to
+a halt in a basin where now is Barge Yard, in the centre of the ancient
+city of London.  Tom disembarked, and he and his gallant procession
+crossed Cheapside and made a short march through the Old Jewry and
+Basinghall Street to the Guildhall.
+
+Tom and his little ladies were received with due ceremony by the Lord
+Mayor and the Fathers of the City, in their gold chains and scarlet
+robes of state, and conducted to a rich canopy of state at the head of
+the great hall, preceded by heralds making proclamation, and by the Mace
+and the City Sword.  The lords and ladies who were to attend upon Tom
+and his two small friends took their places behind their chairs.
+
+At a lower table the Court grandees and other guests of noble degree
+were seated, with the magnates of the city; the commoners took places at
+a multitude of tables on the main floor of the hall.  From their lofty
+vantage-ground the giants Gog and Magog, the ancient guardians of the
+city, contemplated the spectacle below them with eyes grown familiar
+to it in forgotten generations.  There was a bugle-blast and a
+proclamation, and a fat butler appeared in a high perch in the leftward
+wall, followed by his servitors bearing with impressive solemnity a
+royal baron of beef, smoking hot and ready for the knife.
+
+After grace, Tom (being instructed) rose--and the whole house with
+him--and drank from a portly golden loving-cup with the Princess
+Elizabeth; from her it passed to the Lady Jane, and then traversed the
+general assemblage.  So the banquet began.
+
+By midnight the revelry was at its height.  Now came one of those
+picturesque spectacles so admired in that old day.  A description of it
+is still extant in the quaint wording of a chronicler who witnessed it:
+
+‘Space being made, presently entered a baron and an earl appareled after
+the Turkish fashion in long robes of bawdkin powdered with gold; hats on
+their heads of crimson velvet, with great rolls of gold, girded with two
+swords, called scimitars, hanging by great bawdricks of gold.  Next came
+yet another baron and another earl, in two long gowns of yellow satin,
+traversed with white satin, and in every bend of white was a bend of
+crimson satin, after the fashion of Russia, with furred hats of gray on
+their heads; either of them having an hatchet in their hands, and boots
+with pykes’ (points a foot long), ’turned up.  And after them came
+a knight, then the Lord High Admiral, and with him five nobles, in
+doublets of crimson velvet, voyded low on the back and before to the
+cannell-bone, laced on the breasts with chains of silver; and over
+that, short cloaks of crimson satin, and on their heads hats after
+the dancers’ fashion, with pheasants’ feathers in them.  These were
+appareled after the fashion of Prussia.  The torchbearers, which were
+about an hundred, were appareled in crimson satin and green, like Moors,
+their faces black. Next came in a mommarye. Then the minstrels, which
+were disguised, danced; and the lords and ladies did wildly dance also,
+that it was a pleasure to behold.’
+
+And while Tom, in his high seat, was gazing upon this ‘wild’ dancing,
+lost in admiration of the dazzling commingling of kaleidoscopic colours
+which the whirling turmoil of gaudy figures below him presented, the
+ragged but real little Prince of Wales was proclaiming his rights and
+his wrongs, denouncing the impostor, and clamouring for admission at
+the gates of Guildhall! The crowd enjoyed this episode prodigiously,
+and pressed forward and craned their necks to see the small rioter.
+Presently they began to taunt him and mock at him, purposely to goad him
+into a higher and still more entertaining fury.  Tears of mortification
+sprang to his eyes, but he stood his ground and defied the mob right
+royally.  Other taunts followed, added mockings stung him, and he
+exclaimed--
+
+“I tell ye again, you pack of unmannerly curs, I am the Prince of Wales!
+And all forlorn and friendless as I be, with none to give me word of
+grace or help me in my need, yet will not I be driven from my ground,
+but will maintain it!”
+
+“Though thou be prince or no prince, ’tis all one, thou be’st a gallant
+lad, and not friendless neither!  Here stand I by thy side to prove
+it; and mind I tell thee thou might’st have a worser friend than Miles
+Hendon and yet not tire thy legs with seeking. Rest thy small jaw, my
+child; I talk the language of these base kennel-rats like to a very
+native.”
+
+The speaker was a sort of Don Caesar de Bazan in dress, aspect, and
+bearing.  He was tall, trim-built, muscular.  His doublet and trunks
+were of rich material, but faded and threadbare, and their gold-lace
+adornments were sadly tarnished; his ruff was rumpled and damaged;
+the plume in his slouched hat was broken and had a bedraggled and
+disreputable look; at his side he wore a long rapier in a rusty iron
+sheath; his swaggering carriage marked him at once as a ruffler of
+the camp.  The speech of this fantastic figure was received with an
+explosion of jeers and laughter.  Some cried, “‘Tis another prince in
+disguise!” “‘Ware thy tongue, friend:  belike he is dangerous!”
+  “Marry, he looketh it--mark his eye!”  “Pluck the lad from him--to the
+horse-pond wi’ the cub!”
+
+Instantly a hand was laid upon the Prince, under the impulse of this
+happy thought; as instantly the stranger’s long sword was out and the
+meddler went to the earth under a sounding thump with the flat of it.
+The next moment a score of voices shouted, “Kill the dog!  Kill him!
+Kill him!” and the mob closed in on the warrior, who backed himself
+against a wall and began to lay about him with his long weapon like a
+madman.  His victims sprawled this way and that, but the mob-tide poured
+over their prostrate forms and dashed itself against the champion with
+undiminished fury.
+
+His moments seemed numbered, his destruction certain, when suddenly a
+trumpet-blast sounded, a voice shouted, “Way for the King’s messenger!”
+ and a troop of horsemen came charging down upon the mob, who fled out of
+harm’s reach as fast as their legs could carry them. The bold stranger
+caught up the Prince in his arms, and was soon far away from danger and
+the multitude.
+
+Return we within the Guildhall.  Suddenly, high above the jubilant roar
+and thunder of the revel, broke the clear peal of a bugle-note.  There
+was instant silence--a deep hush; then a single voice rose--that of the
+messenger from the palace--and began to pipe forth a proclamation, the
+whole multitude standing listening.
+
+The closing words, solemnly pronounced, were--
+
+“The King is dead!”
+
+The great assemblage bent their heads upon their breasts with one
+accord; remained so, in profound silence, a few moments; then all sank
+upon their knees in a body, stretched out their hands toward Tom, and a
+mighty shout burst forth that seemed to shake the building--
+
+“Long live the King!”
+
+Poor Tom’s dazed eyes wandered abroad over this stupefying spectacle,
+and finally rested dreamily upon the kneeling princesses beside him, a
+moment, then upon the Earl of Hertford. A sudden purpose dawned in his
+face.  He said, in a low tone, at Lord Hertford’s ear--
+
+“Answer me truly, on thy faith and honour!  Uttered I here a command,
+the which none but a king might hold privilege and prerogative to utter,
+would such commandment be obeyed, and none rise up to say me nay?”
+
+“None, my liege, in all these realms.  In thy person bides the majesty
+of England.  Thou art the king--thy word is law.”
+
+Tom responded, in a strong, earnest voice, and with great animation--
+
+“Then shall the king’s law be law of mercy, from this day, and never
+more be law of blood!  Up from thy knees and away!  To the Tower, and
+say the King decrees the Duke of Norfolk shall not die!”
+
+The words were caught up and carried eagerly from lip to lip far and
+wide over the hall, and as Hertford hurried from the presence, another
+prodigious shout burst forth--
+
+“The reign of blood is ended!  Long live Edward, King of England!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. The Prince and his Deliverer.
+
+As soon as Miles Hendon and the little prince were clear of the mob,
+they struck down through back lanes and alleys toward the river.  Their
+way was unobstructed until they approached London Bridge; then they
+ploughed into the multitude again, Hendon keeping a fast grip upon
+the Prince’s--no, the King’s--wrist.  The tremendous news was already
+abroad, and the boy learned it from a thousand voices at once--“The King
+is dead!”  The tidings struck a chill to the heart of the poor little
+waif, and sent a shudder through his frame.  He realised the greatness
+of his loss, and was filled with a bitter grief; for the grim tyrant who
+had been such a terror to others had always been gentle with him.  The
+tears sprang to his eyes and blurred all objects.  For an instant
+he felt himself the most forlorn, outcast, and forsaken of God’s
+creatures--then another cry shook the night with its far-reaching
+thunders:  “Long live King Edward the Sixth!” and this made his eyes
+kindle, and thrilled him with pride to his fingers’ ends. “Ah,” he
+thought, “how grand and strange it seems--_I am King_!”
+
+Our friends threaded their way slowly through the throngs upon the
+bridge.  This structure, which had stood for six hundred years, and
+had been a noisy and populous thoroughfare all that time, was a curious
+affair, for a closely packed rank of stores and shops, with family
+quarters overhead, stretched along both sides of it, from one bank of
+the river to the other.  The Bridge was a sort of town to itself; it
+had its inn, its beer-houses, its bakeries, its haberdasheries, its food
+markets, its manufacturing industries, and even its church.  It
+looked upon the two neighbours which it linked together--London
+and Southwark--as being well enough as suburbs, but not otherwise
+particularly important.  It was a close corporation, so to speak; it was
+a narrow town, of a single street a fifth of a mile long, its
+population was but a village population and everybody in it knew all
+his fellow-townsmen intimately, and had known their fathers and mothers
+before them--and all their little family affairs into the bargain.  It
+had its aristocracy, of course--its fine old families of butchers, and
+bakers, and what-not, who had occupied the same old premises for five
+or six hundred years, and knew the great history of the Bridge from
+beginning to end, and all its strange legends; and who always talked
+bridgy talk, and thought bridgy thoughts, and lied in a long, level,
+direct, substantial bridgy way.  It was just the sort of population to
+be narrow and ignorant and self-conceited. Children were born on the
+Bridge, were reared there, grew to old age, and finally died without
+ever having set a foot upon any part of the world but London Bridge
+alone.  Such people would naturally imagine that the mighty and
+interminable procession which moved through its street night and day,
+with its confused roar of shouts and cries, its neighings and bellowing
+and bleatings and its muffled thunder-tramp, was the one great thing in
+this world, and themselves somehow the proprietors of it.  And so they
+were, in effect--at least they could exhibit it from their windows, and
+did--for a consideration--whenever a returning king or hero gave it a
+fleeting splendour, for there was no place like it for affording a long,
+straight, uninterrupted view of marching columns.
+
+Men born and reared upon the Bridge found life unendurably dull and
+inane elsewhere.  History tells of one of these who left the Bridge at
+the age of seventy-one and retired to the country.  But he could only
+fret and toss in his bed; he could not go to sleep, the deep stillness
+was so painful, so awful, so oppressive.  When he was worn out with it,
+at last, he fled back to his old home, a lean and haggard spectre, and
+fell peacefully to rest and pleasant dreams under the lulling music of
+the lashing waters and the boom and crash and thunder of London Bridge.
+
+In the times of which we are writing, the Bridge furnished ‘object
+lessons’ in English history for its children--namely, the livid and
+decaying heads of renowned men impaled upon iron spikes atop of its
+gateways.  But we digress.
+
+Hendon’s lodgings were in the little inn on the Bridge.  As he neared
+the door with his small friend, a rough voice said--
+
+“So, thou’rt come at last!  Thou’lt not escape again, I warrant thee;
+and if pounding thy bones to a pudding can teach thee somewhat, thou’lt
+not keep us waiting another time, mayhap,”--and John Canty put out his
+hand to seize the boy.
+
+Miles Hendon stepped in the way and said--
+
+“Not too fast, friend.  Thou art needlessly rough, methinks.  What is
+the lad to thee?”
+
+“If it be any business of thine to make and meddle in others’ affairs,
+he is my son.”
+
+“‘Tis a lie!” cried the little King, hotly.
+
+“Boldly said, and I believe thee, whether thy small headpiece be sound
+or cracked, my boy.  But whether this scurvy ruffian be thy father
+or no, ’tis all one, he shall not have thee to beat thee and abuse,
+according to his threat, so thou prefer to bide with me.”
+
+“I do, I do--I know him not, I loathe him, and will die before I will go
+with him.”
+
+“Then ’tis settled, and there is nought more to say.”
+
+“We will see, as to that!” exclaimed John Canty, striding past Hendon to
+get at the boy; “by force shall he--”
+
+“If thou do but touch him, thou animated offal, I will spit thee like a
+goose!” said Hendon, barring the way and laying his hand upon his sword
+hilt.  Canty drew back.  “Now mark ye,” continued Hendon, “I took this
+lad under my protection when a mob of such as thou would have mishandled
+him, mayhap killed him; dost imagine I will desert him now to a worser
+fate?--for whether thou art his father or no--and sooth to say, I think
+it is a lie--a decent swift death were better for such a lad than life
+in such brute hands as thine.  So go thy ways, and set quick about it,
+for I like not much bandying of words, being not over-patient in my
+nature.”
+
+John Canty moved off, muttering threats and curses, and was swallowed
+from sight in the crowd.  Hendon ascended three flights of stairs to his
+room, with his charge, after ordering a meal to be sent thither.  It
+was a poor apartment, with a shabby bed and some odds and ends of old
+furniture in it, and was vaguely lighted by a couple of sickly candles.
+The little King dragged himself to the bed and lay down upon it, almost
+exhausted with hunger and fatigue.  He had been on his feet a good
+part of a day and a night (for it was now two or three o’clock in the
+morning), and had eaten nothing meantime.  He murmured drowsily--
+
+“Prithee call me when the table is spread,” and sank into a deep sleep
+immediately.
+
+A smile twinkled in Hendon’s eye, and he said to himself--
+
+“By the mass, the little beggar takes to one’s quarters and usurps one’s
+bed with as natural and easy a grace as if he owned them--with never
+a by-your-leave or so-please-it-you, or anything of the sort.  In his
+diseased ravings he called himself the Prince of Wales, and bravely doth
+he keep up the character.  Poor little friendless rat, doubtless his
+mind has been disordered with ill-usage.  Well, I will be his friend;
+I have saved him, and it draweth me strongly to him; already I love the
+bold-tongued little rascal.  How soldier-like he faced the smutty rabble
+and flung back his high defiance!  And what a comely, sweet and gentle
+face he hath, now that sleep hath conjured away its troubles and its
+griefs. I will teach him; I will cure his malady; yea, I will be his
+elder brother, and care for him and watch over him; and whoso would
+shame him or do him hurt may order his shroud, for though I be burnt for
+it he shall need it!”
+
+He bent over the boy and contemplated him with kind and pitying
+interest, tapping the young cheek tenderly and smoothing back the
+tangled curls with his great brown hand.  A slight shiver passed over
+the boy’s form. Hendon muttered--
+
+“See, now, how like a man it was to let him lie here uncovered and fill
+his body with deadly rheums.  Now what shall I do? ’twill wake him to
+take him up and put him within the bed, and he sorely needeth sleep.”
+
+He looked about for extra covering, but finding none, doffed his doublet
+and wrapped the lad in it, saying, “I am used to nipping air and scant
+apparel, ’tis little I shall mind the cold!”--then walked up and down
+the room, to keep his blood in motion, soliloquising as before.
+
+“His injured mind persuades him he is Prince of Wales; ’twill be odd to
+have a Prince of Wales still with us, now that he that _was_ the prince
+is prince no more, but king--for this poor mind is set upon the one
+fantasy, and will not reason out that now it should cast by the prince
+and call itself the king. . . If my father liveth still, after these
+seven years that I have heard nought from home in my foreign dungeon, he
+will welcome the poor lad and give him generous shelter for my sake; so
+will my good elder brother, Arthur; my other brother, Hugh--but I will
+crack his crown an _he_ interfere, the fox-hearted, ill-conditioned
+animal! Yes, thither will we fare--and straightway, too.”
+
+A servant entered with a smoking meal, disposed it upon a small deal
+table, placed the chairs, and took his departure, leaving such cheap
+lodgers as these to wait upon themselves.  The door slammed after him,
+and the noise woke the boy, who sprang to a sitting posture, and shot
+a glad glance about him; then a grieved look came into his face and he
+murmured to himself, with a deep sigh, “Alack, it was but a dream, woe
+is me!”  Next he noticed Miles Hendon’s doublet--glanced from that to
+Hendon, comprehended the sacrifice that had been made for him, and said,
+gently--
+
+“Thou art good to me, yes, thou art very good to me.  Take it and put it
+on--I shall not need it more.”
+
+Then he got up and walked to the washstand in the corner and stood
+there, waiting.  Hendon said in a cheery voice--
+
+“We’ll have a right hearty sup and bite, now, for everything is savoury
+and smoking hot, and that and thy nap together will make thee a little
+man again, never fear!”
+
+The boy made no answer, but bent a steady look, that was filled with
+grave surprise, and also somewhat touched with impatience, upon the tall
+knight of the sword.  Hendon was puzzled, and said--
+
+“What’s amiss?”
+
+“Good sir, I would wash me.”
+
+“Oh, is that all?  Ask no permission of Miles Hendon for aught thou
+cravest.  Make thyself perfectly free here, and welcome, with all that
+are his belongings.”
+
+Still the boy stood, and moved not; more, he tapped the floor once or
+twice with his small impatient foot.  Hendon was wholly perplexed.  Said
+he--
+
+“Bless us, what is it?”
+
+“Prithee pour the water, and make not so many words!”
+
+Hendon, suppressing a horse-laugh, and saying to himself, “By all the
+saints, but this is admirable!” stepped briskly forward and did the
+small insolent’s bidding; then stood by, in a sort of stupefaction,
+until the command, “Come--the towel!” woke him sharply up.  He took up a
+towel, from under the boy’s nose, and handed it to him without comment.
+ He now proceeded to comfort his own face with a wash, and while he was
+at it his adopted child seated himself at the table and prepared to fall
+to. Hendon despatched his ablutions with alacrity, then drew back the
+other chair and was about to place himself at table, when the boy said,
+indignantly--
+
+“Forbear!  Wouldst sit in the presence of the King?”
+
+This blow staggered Hendon to his foundations.  He muttered to himself,
+“Lo, the poor thing’s madness is up with the time!  It hath changed
+with the great change that is come to the realm, and now in fancy is
+he _king_! Good lack, I must humour the conceit, too--there is no other
+way--faith, he would order me to the Tower, else!”
+
+And pleased with this jest, he removed the chair from the table,
+took his stand behind the King, and proceeded to wait upon him in the
+courtliest way he was capable of.
+
+While the King ate, the rigour of his royal dignity relaxed a little,
+and with his growing contentment came a desire to talk. He said--“I
+think thou callest thyself Miles Hendon, if I heard thee aright?”
+
+“Yes, Sire,” Miles replied; then observed to himself, “If I _must_
+humour the poor lad’s madness, I must ‘Sire’ him, I must ‘Majesty’ him,
+I must not go by halves, I must stick at nothing that belongeth to the
+part I play, else shall I play it ill and work evil to this charitable
+and kindly cause.”
+
+The King warmed his heart with a second glass of wine, and said--“I
+would know thee--tell me thy story.  Thou hast a gallant way with thee,
+and a noble--art nobly born?”
+
+“We are of the tail of the nobility, good your Majesty.  My father is
+a baronet--one of the smaller lords by knight service {2}--Sir Richard
+Hendon of Hendon Hall, by Monk’s Holm in Kent.”
+
+“The name has escaped my memory.  Go on--tell me thy story.”
+
+“‘Tis not much, your Majesty, yet perchance it may beguile a short
+half-hour for want of a better.  My father, Sir Richard, is very rich,
+and of a most generous nature.  My mother died whilst I was yet a
+boy.  I have two brothers:  Arthur, my elder, with a soul like to
+his father’s; and Hugh, younger than I, a mean spirit, covetous,
+treacherous, vicious, underhanded--a reptile.  Such was he from the
+cradle; such was he ten years past, when I last saw him--a ripe rascal
+at nineteen, I being twenty then, and Arthur twenty-two.  There is
+none other of us but the Lady Edith, my cousin--she was sixteen
+then--beautiful, gentle, good, the daughter of an earl, the last of her
+race, heiress of a great fortune and a lapsed title.  My father was her
+guardian.  I loved her and she loved me; but she was betrothed to Arthur
+from the cradle, and Sir Richard would not suffer the contract to be
+broken.  Arthur loved another maid, and bade us be of good cheer and
+hold fast to the hope that delay and luck together would some day give
+success to our several causes.  Hugh loved the Lady Edith’s fortune,
+though in truth he said it was herself he loved--but then ’twas his way,
+alway, to say the one thing and mean the other.  But he lost his arts
+upon the girl; he could deceive my father, but none else.  My father
+loved him best of us all, and trusted and believed him; for he was the
+youngest child, and others hated him--these qualities being in all
+ages sufficient to win a parent’s dearest love; and he had a smooth
+persuasive tongue, with an admirable gift of lying--and these be
+qualities which do mightily assist a blind affection to cozen itself.
+ I was wild--in troth I might go yet farther and say _very_ wild, though
+‘twas a wildness of an innocent sort, since it hurt none but me, brought
+shame to none, nor loss, nor had in it any taint of crime or baseness,
+or what might not beseem mine honourable degree.
+
+“Yet did my brother Hugh turn these faults to good account--he seeing
+that our brother Arthur’s health was but indifferent, and hoping the
+worst might work him profit were I swept out of the path--so--but ’twere
+a long tale, good my liege, and little worth the telling.  Briefly,
+then, this brother did deftly magnify my faults and make them
+crimes; ending his base work with finding a silken ladder in mine
+apartments--conveyed thither by his own means--and did convince my
+father by this, and suborned evidence of servants and other lying
+knaves, that I was minded to carry off my Edith and marry with her in
+rank defiance of his will.
+
+“Three years of banishment from home and England might make a soldier
+and a man of me, my father said, and teach me some degree of wisdom.
+ I fought out my long probation in the continental wars, tasting
+sumptuously of hard knocks, privation, and adventure; but in my last
+battle I was taken captive, and during the seven years that have waxed
+and waned since then, a foreign dungeon hath harboured me.  Through wit
+and courage I won to the free air at last, and fled hither straight; and
+am but just arrived, right poor in purse and raiment, and poorer still
+in knowledge of what these dull seven years have wrought at Hendon Hall,
+its people and belongings.  So please you, sir, my meagre tale is told.”
+
+“Thou hast been shamefully abused!” said the little King, with a
+flashing eye.  “But I will right thee--by the cross will I!  The King
+hath said it.”
+
+Then, fired by the story of Miles’s wrongs, he loosed his tongue and
+poured the history of his own recent misfortunes into the ears of his
+astonished listener.  When he had finished, Miles said to himself--
+
+“Lo, what an imagination he hath!  Verily, this is no common mind; else,
+crazed or sane, it could not weave so straight and gaudy a tale as this
+out of the airy nothings wherewith it hath wrought this curious romaunt.
+Poor ruined little head, it shall not lack friend or shelter whilst I
+bide with the living.  He shall never leave my side; he shall be my
+pet, my little comrade.  And he shall be cured!--ay, made whole and
+sound--then will he make himself a name--and proud shall I be to say,
+‘Yes, he is mine--I took him, a homeless little ragamuffin, but I saw
+what was in him, and I said his name would be heard some day--behold
+him, observe him--was I right?’”
+
+The King spoke--in a thoughtful, measured voice--
+
+“Thou didst save me injury and shame, perchance my life, and so my
+crown. Such service demandeth rich reward.  Name thy desire, and so it
+be within the compass of my royal power, it is thine.”
+
+This fantastic suggestion startled Hendon out of his reverie.  He was
+about to thank the King and put the matter aside with saying he had only
+done his duty and desired no reward, but a wiser thought came into his
+head, and he asked leave to be silent a few moments and consider the
+gracious offer--an idea which the King gravely approved, remarking that
+it was best to be not too hasty with a thing of such great import.
+
+Miles reflected during some moments, then said to himself, “Yes, that is
+the thing to do--by any other means it were impossible to get at it--and
+certes, this hour’s experience has taught me ’twould be most wearing and
+inconvenient to continue it as it is. Yes, I will propose it; ’twas a
+happy accident that I did not throw the chance away.”  Then he dropped
+upon one knee and said--
+
+“My poor service went not beyond the limit of a subject’s simple duty,
+and therefore hath no merit; but since your Majesty is pleased to hold
+it worthy some reward, I take heart of grace to make petition to this
+effect.  Near four hundred years ago, as your grace knoweth, there being
+ill blood betwixt John, King of England, and the King of France, it was
+decreed that two champions should fight together in the lists, and so
+settle the dispute by what is called the arbitrament of God.  These two
+kings, and the Spanish king, being assembled to witness and judge the
+conflict, the French champion appeared; but so redoubtable was he, that
+our English knights refused to measure weapons with him.  So the matter,
+which was a weighty one, was like to go against the English monarch by
+default.  Now in the Tower lay the Lord de Courcy, the mightiest arm in
+England, stripped of his honours and possessions, and wasting with
+long captivity.  Appeal was made to him; he gave assent, and came forth
+arrayed for battle; but no sooner did the Frenchman glimpse his huge
+frame and hear his famous name but he fled away, and the French king’s
+cause was lost.  King John restored De Courcy’s titles and possessions,
+and said, ‘Name thy wish and thou shalt have it, though it cost me half
+my kingdom;’ whereat De Courcy, kneeling, as I do now, made answer,
+‘This, then, I ask, my liege; that I and my successors may have and
+hold the privilege of remaining covered in the presence of the kings of
+England, henceforth while the throne shall last.’ The boon was granted,
+as your Majesty knoweth; and there hath been no time, these four hundred
+years, that that line has failed of an heir; and so, even unto this day,
+the head of that ancient house still weareth his hat or helm before the
+King’s Majesty, without let or hindrance, and this none other may do.
+{3} Invoking this precedent in aid of my prayer, I beseech the King to
+grant to me but this one grace and privilege--to my more than sufficient
+reward--and none other, to wit:  that I and my heirs, for ever, may
+_sit_ in the presence of the Majesty of England!”
+
+“Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, Knight,” said the King, gravely--giving the
+accolade with Hendon’s sword--“rise, and seat thyself.  Thy petition is
+granted.  Whilst England remains, and the crown continues, the privilege
+shall not lapse.”
+
+His Majesty walked apart, musing, and Hendon dropped into a chair at
+table, observing to himself, “‘Twas a brave thought, and hath wrought
+me a mighty deliverance; my legs are grievously wearied. An I had not
+thought of that, I must have had to stand for weeks, till my poor lad’s
+wits are cured.”  After a little, he went on, “And so I am become a
+knight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows! A most odd and strange
+position, truly, for one so matter-of-fact as I.  I will not laugh--no,
+God forbid, for this thing which is so substanceless to me is _real_ to
+him.  And to me, also, in one way, it is not a falsity, for it reflects
+with truth the sweet and generous spirit that is in him.”  After
+a pause: “Ah, what if he should call me by my fine title before
+folk!--there’d be a merry contrast betwixt my glory and my raiment!  But
+no matter, let him call me what he will, so it please him; I shall be
+content.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. The disappearance of the Prince.
+
+A heavy drowsiness presently fell upon the two comrades.  The King
+said--
+
+“Remove these rags.”--meaning his clothing.
+
+Hendon disapparelled the boy without dissent or remark, tucked him up in
+bed, then glanced about the room, saying to himself, ruefully, “He hath
+taken my bed again, as before--marry, what shall _I_ do?”  The little
+King observed his perplexity, and dissipated it with a word.  He said,
+sleepily--
+
+“Thou wilt sleep athwart the door, and guard it.”  In a moment more he
+was out of his troubles, in a deep slumber.
+
+“Dear heart, he should have been born a king!” muttered Hendon,
+admiringly; “he playeth the part to a marvel.”
+
+Then he stretched himself across the door, on the floor, saying
+contentedly--
+
+“I have lodged worse for seven years; ’twould be but ill gratitude to
+Him above to find fault with this.”
+
+He dropped asleep as the dawn appeared.  Toward noon he rose, uncovered
+his unconscious ward--a section at a time--and took his measure with a
+string.  The King awoke, just as he had completed his work, complained
+of the cold, and asked what he was doing.
+
+“‘Tis done, now, my liege,” said Hendon; “I have a bit of business
+outside, but will presently return; sleep thou again--thou needest it.
+There--let me cover thy head also--thou’lt be warm the sooner.”
+
+The King was back in dreamland before this speech was ended. Miles
+slipped softly out, and slipped as softly in again, in the course of
+thirty or forty minutes, with a complete second-hand suit of boy’s
+clothing, of cheap material, and showing signs of wear; but tidy, and
+suited to the season of the year.  He seated himself, and began to
+overhaul his purchase, mumbling to himself--
+
+“A longer purse would have got a better sort, but when one has not the
+long purse one must be content with what a short one may do--
+
+“‘There was a woman in our town, In our town did dwell--’
+
+“He stirred, methinks--I must sing in a less thunderous key; ’tis not
+good to mar his sleep, with this journey before him, and he so wearied
+out, poor chap . . . This garment--‘tis well enough--a stitch here and
+another one there will set it aright.  This other is better, albeit a
+stitch or two will not come amiss in it, likewise . . . _These_ be very
+good and sound, and will keep his small feet warm and dry--an odd new
+thing to him, belike, since he has doubtless been used to foot it bare,
+winters and summers the same . . . Would thread were bread, seeing one
+getteth a year’s sufficiency for a farthing, and such a brave big needle
+without cost, for mere love.  Now shall I have the demon’s own time to
+thread it!”
+
+And so he had.  He did as men have always done, and probably always will
+do, to the end of time--held the needle still, and tried to thrust the
+thread through the eye, which is the opposite of a woman’s way.  Time
+and time again the thread missed the mark, going sometimes on one side
+of the needle, sometimes on the other, sometimes doubling up against the
+shaft; but he was patient, having been through these experiences before,
+when he was soldiering.  He succeeded at last, and took up the garment
+that had lain waiting, meantime, across his lap, and began his work.
+
+“The inn is paid--the breakfast that is to come, included--and there is
+wherewithal left to buy a couple of donkeys and meet our little costs
+for the two or three days betwixt this and the plenty that awaits us at
+Hendon Hall--
+
+“‘She loved her hus--’
+
+“Body o’ me!  I have driven the needle under my nail! . . . It matters
+little--‘tis not a novelty--yet ’tis not a convenience, neither. . . .
+We shall be merry there, little one, never doubt it! Thy troubles will
+vanish there, and likewise thy sad distemper--
+
+“‘She loved her husband dearilee, But another man--’
+
+“These be noble large stitches!”--holding the garment up and viewing
+it admiringly--“they have a grandeur and a majesty that do cause
+these small stingy ones of the tailor-man to look mightily paltry and
+plebeian--
+
+“‘She loved her husband dearilee, But another man he loved she,--’
+
+“Marry, ’tis done--a goodly piece of work, too, and wrought with
+expedition.  Now will I wake him, apparel him, pour for him, feed him,
+and then will we hie us to the mart by the Tabard Inn in Southwark
+and--be pleased to rise, my liege!--he answereth not--what ho, my
+liege!--of a truth must I profane his sacred person with a touch, sith
+his slumber is deaf to speech.  What!”
+
+He threw back the covers--the boy was gone!
+
+He stared about him in speechless astonishment for a moment; noticed for
+the first time that his ward’s ragged raiment was also missing; then he
+began to rage and storm and shout for the innkeeper.  At that moment a
+servant entered with the breakfast.
+
+“Explain, thou limb of Satan, or thy time is come!” roared the man of
+war, and made so savage a spring toward the waiter that this latter
+could not find his tongue, for the instant, for fright and surprise.
+ “Where is the boy?”
+
+In disjointed and trembling syllables the man gave the information
+desired.
+
+“You were hardly gone from the place, your worship, when a youth came
+running and said it was your worship’s will that the boy come to you
+straight, at the bridge-end on the Southwark side.  I brought him
+hither; and when he woke the lad and gave his message, the lad did
+grumble some little for being disturbed ‘so early,’ as he called it, but
+straightway trussed on his rags and went with the youth, only saying
+it had been better manners that your worship came yourself, not sent a
+stranger--and so--”
+
+“And so thou’rt a fool!--a fool and easily cozened--hang all thy breed!
+Yet mayhap no hurt is done.  Possibly no harm is meant the boy.  I will
+go fetch him.  Make the table ready.  Stay! the coverings of the bed
+were disposed as if one lay beneath them--happened that by accident?”
+
+“I know not, good your worship.  I saw the youth meddle with them--he
+that came for the boy.”
+
+“Thousand deaths!  ‘Twas done to deceive me--‘tis plain ’twas done to
+gain time.  Hark ye!  Was that youth alone?”
+
+“All alone, your worship.”
+
+“Art sure?”
+
+“Sure, your worship.”
+
+“Collect thy scattered wits--bethink thee--take time, man.”
+
+After a moment’s thought, the servant said--
+
+“When he came, none came with him; but now I remember me that as the two
+stepped into the throng of the Bridge, a ruffian-looking man plunged out
+from some near place; and just as he was joining them--”
+
+“What _then_?--out with it!” thundered the impatient Hendon,
+interrupting.
+
+“Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and I saw no
+more, being called by my master, who was in a rage because a joint that
+the scrivener had ordered was forgot, though I take all the saints to
+witness that to blame _me_ for that miscarriage were like holding the
+unborn babe to judgment for sins com--”
+
+“Out of my sight, idiot!  Thy prating drives me mad!  Hold! Whither art
+flying?  Canst not bide still an instant?  Went they toward Southwark?”
+
+“Even so, your worship--for, as I said before, as to that detestable
+joint, the babe unborn is no whit more blameless than--”
+
+“Art here _yet_!  And prating still!  Vanish, lest I throttle thee!” The
+servitor vanished.  Hendon followed after him, passed him, and plunged
+down the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering, “‘Tis that scurvy
+villain that claimed he was his son.  I have lost thee, my poor little
+mad master--it is a bitter thought--and I had come to love thee so!  No!
+by book and bell, _not_ lost!  Not lost, for I will ransack the land
+till I find thee again.  Poor child, yonder is his breakfast--and mine,
+but I have no hunger now; so, let the rats have it--speed, speed! that
+is the word!”  As he wormed his swift way through the noisy multitudes
+upon the Bridge he several times said to himself--clinging to the
+thought as if it were a particularly pleasing one--“He grumbled, but he
+_went_--he went, yes, because he thought Miles Hendon asked it, sweet
+lad--he would ne’er have done it for another, I know it well.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. ‘Le Roi est mort--vive le Roi.’
+
+Toward daylight of the same morning, Tom Canty stirred out of a heavy
+sleep and opened his eyes in the dark.  He lay silent a few moments,
+trying to analyse his confused thoughts and impressions, and get some
+sort of meaning out of them; then suddenly he burst out in a rapturous
+but guarded voice--
+
+“I see it all, I see it all!  Now God be thanked, I am indeed awake at
+last!  Come, joy! vanish, sorrow!  Ho, Nan! Bet! kick off your straw and
+hie ye hither to my side, till I do pour into your unbelieving ears the
+wildest madcap dream that ever the spirits of night did conjure up to
+astonish the soul of man withal! . . . Ho, Nan, I say!  Bet!”
+
+A dim form appeared at his side, and a voice said--
+
+“Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?”
+
+“Commands? . . . O, woe is me, I know thy voice!  Speak thou--who am I?”
+
+“Thou?  In sooth, yesternight wert thou the Prince of Wales; to-day art
+thou my most gracious liege, Edward, King of England.”
+
+Tom buried his head among his pillows, murmuring plaintively--
+
+“Alack, it was no dream!  Go to thy rest, sweet sir--leave me to my
+sorrows.”
+
+Tom slept again, and after a time he had this pleasant dream.  He
+thought it was summer, and he was playing, all alone, in the fair meadow
+called Goodman’s Fields, when a dwarf only a foot high, with long red
+whiskers and a humped back, appeared to him suddenly and said, “Dig by
+that stump.”  He did so, and found twelve bright new pennies--wonderful
+riches!  Yet this was not the best of it; for the dwarf said--
+
+“I know thee.  Thou art a good lad, and a deserving; thy distresses
+shall end, for the day of thy reward is come.  Dig here every seventh
+day, and thou shalt find always the same treasure, twelve bright new
+pennies. Tell none--keep the secret.”
+
+Then the dwarf vanished, and Tom flew to Offal Court with his prize,
+saying to himself, “Every night will I give my father a penny; he
+will think I begged it, it will glad his heart, and I shall no more
+be beaten. One penny every week the good priest that teacheth me shall
+have; mother, Nan, and Bet the other four. We be done with hunger and
+rags, now, done with fears and frets and savage usage.”
+
+In his dream he reached his sordid home all out of breath, but with
+eyes dancing with grateful enthusiasm; cast four of his pennies into his
+mother’s lap and cried out--
+
+“They are for thee!--all of them, every one!--for thee and Nan and
+Bet--and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!”
+
+The happy and astonished mother strained him to her breast and
+exclaimed--
+
+“It waxeth late--may it please your Majesty to rise?”
+
+Ah! that was not the answer he was expecting.  The dream had snapped
+asunder--he was awake.
+
+He opened his eyes--the richly clad First Lord of the Bedchamber was
+kneeling by his couch.  The gladness of the lying dream faded away--the
+poor boy recognised that he was still a captive and a king.  The room
+was filled with courtiers clothed in purple mantles--the mourning
+colour--and with noble servants of the monarch.  Tom sat up in bed and
+gazed out from the heavy silken curtains upon this fine company.
+
+The weighty business of dressing began, and one courtier after another
+knelt and paid his court and offered to the little King his condolences
+upon his heavy loss, whilst the dressing proceeded.  In the beginning, a
+shirt was taken up by the Chief Equerry in Waiting, who passed it to the
+First Lord of the Buckhounds, who passed it to the Second Gentleman of
+the Bedchamber, who passed it to the Head Ranger of Windsor Forest,
+who passed it to the Third Groom of the Stole, who passed it to the
+Chancellor Royal of the Duchy of Lancaster, who passed it to the Master
+of the Wardrobe, who passed it to Norroy King-at-Arms, who passed it to
+the Constable of the Tower, who passed it to the Chief Steward of the
+Household, who passed it to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, who passed it
+to the Lord High Admiral of England, who passed it to the Archbishop of
+Canterbury, who passed it to the First Lord of the Bedchamber, who took
+what was left of it and put it on Tom.  Poor little wondering chap, it
+reminded him of passing buckets at a fire.
+
+Each garment in its turn had to go through this slow and solemn process;
+consequently Tom grew very weary of the ceremony; so weary that he felt
+an almost gushing gratefulness when he at last saw his long silken hose
+begin the journey down the line and knew that the end of the matter
+was drawing near.  But he exulted too soon.  The First Lord of the
+Bedchamber received the hose and was about to encase Tom’s legs in them,
+when a sudden flush invaded his face and he hurriedly hustled the things
+back into the hands of the Archbishop of Canterbury with an astounded
+look and a whispered, “See, my lord!” pointing to a something connected
+with the hose.  The Archbishop paled, then flushed, and passed the
+hose to the Lord High Admiral, whispering, “See, my lord!”  The Admiral
+passed the hose to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, and had hardly breath
+enough in his body to ejaculate, “See, my lord!”  The hose drifted
+backward along the line, to the Chief Steward of the Household, the
+Constable of the Tower, Norroy King-at-Arms, the Master of the Wardrobe,
+the Chancellor Royal of the Duchy of Lancaster, the Third Groom of the
+Stole, the Head Ranger of Windsor Forest, the Second Gentleman of the
+Bedchamber, the First Lord of the Buckhounds,--accompanied always with
+that amazed and frightened “See! see!”--till they finally reached the
+hands of the Chief Equerry in Waiting, who gazed a moment, with a pallid
+face, upon what had caused all this dismay, then hoarsely whispered,
+“Body of my life, a tag gone from a truss-point!--to the Tower with
+the Head Keeper of the King’s Hose!”--after which he leaned upon the
+shoulder of the First Lord of the Buckhounds to regather his vanished
+strength whilst fresh hose, without any damaged strings to them, were
+brought.
+
+But all things must have an end, and so in time Tom Canty was in a
+condition to get out of bed.  The proper official poured water, the
+proper official engineered the washing, the proper official stood by
+with a towel, and by-and-by Tom got safely through the purifying stage
+and was ready for the services of the Hairdresser-royal.  When he at
+length emerged from this master’s hands, he was a gracious figure and
+as pretty as a girl, in his mantle and trunks of purple satin, and
+purple-plumed cap.  He now moved in state toward his breakfast-room,
+through the midst of the courtly assemblage; and as he passed, these
+fell back, leaving his way free, and dropped upon their knees.
+
+After breakfast he was conducted, with regal ceremony, attended by his
+great officers and his guard of fifty Gentlemen Pensioners bearing gilt
+battle-axes, to the throne-room, where he proceeded to transact business
+of state.  His ‘uncle,’ Lord Hertford, took his stand by the throne, to
+assist the royal mind with wise counsel.
+
+The body of illustrious men named by the late King as his executors
+appeared, to ask Tom’s approval of certain acts of theirs--rather a
+form, and yet not wholly a form, since there was no Protector as yet.
+ The Archbishop of Canterbury made report of the decree of the Council
+of Executors concerning the obsequies of his late most illustrious
+Majesty, and finished by reading the signatures of the Executors, to
+wit:  the Archbishop of Canterbury; the Lord Chancellor of England;
+William Lord St. John; John Lord Russell; Edward Earl of Hertford; John
+Viscount Lisle; Cuthbert Bishop of Durham--
+
+Tom was not listening--an earlier clause of the document was puzzling
+him.  At this point he turned and whispered to Lord Hertford--
+
+“What day did he say the burial hath been appointed for?”
+
+“The sixteenth of the coming month, my liege.”
+
+“‘Tis a strange folly.  Will he keep?”
+
+Poor chap, he was still new to the customs of royalty; he was used to
+seeing the forlorn dead of Offal Court hustled out of the way with a
+very different sort of expedition.  However, the Lord Hertford set his
+mind at rest with a word or two.
+
+A secretary of state presented an order of the Council appointing the
+morrow at eleven for the reception of the foreign ambassadors, and
+desired the King’s assent.
+
+Tom turned an inquiring look toward Hertford, who whispered--
+
+“Your Majesty will signify consent.  They come to testify their royal
+masters’ sense of the heavy calamity which hath visited your Grace and
+the realm of England.”
+
+Tom did as he was bidden.  Another secretary began to read a preamble
+concerning the expenses of the late King’s household, which had amounted
+to 28,000 pounds during the preceding six months--a sum so vast that it
+made Tom Canty gasp; he gasped again when the fact appeared that 20,000
+pounds of this money was still owing and unpaid; {4} and once more when
+it appeared that the King’s coffers were about empty, and his twelve
+hundred servants much embarrassed for lack of the wages due them.  Tom
+spoke out, with lively apprehension--
+
+“We be going to the dogs, ’tis plain.  ‘Tis meet and necessary that we
+take a smaller house and set the servants at large, sith they be of no
+value but to make delay, and trouble one with offices that harass the
+spirit and shame the soul, they misbecoming any but a doll, that hath
+nor brains nor hands to help itself withal.  I remember me of a small
+house that standeth over against the fish-market, by Billingsgate--”
+
+A sharp pressure upon Tom’s arm stopped his foolish tongue and sent a
+blush to his face; but no countenance there betrayed any sign that this
+strange speech had been remarked or given concern.
+
+A secretary made report that forasmuch as the late King had provided in
+his will for conferring the ducal degree upon the Earl of Hertford and
+raising his brother, Sir Thomas Seymour, to the peerage, and likewise
+Hertford’s son to an earldom, together with similar aggrandisements to
+other great servants of the Crown, the Council had resolved to hold a
+sitting on the 16th of February for the delivering and confirming of
+these honours, and that meantime, the late King not having granted,
+in writing, estates suitable to the support of these dignities, the
+Council, knowing his private wishes in that regard, had thought proper
+to grant to Seymour ‘500 pound lands,’ and to Hertford’s son ‘800
+pound lands, and 300 pound of the next bishop’s lands which should fall
+vacant,’--his present Majesty being willing. {5}
+
+Tom was about to blurt out something about the propriety of paying the
+late King’s debts first, before squandering all this money, but a
+timely touch upon his arm, from the thoughtful Hertford, saved him
+this indiscretion; wherefore he gave the royal assent, without spoken
+comment, but with much inward discomfort.  While he sat reflecting a
+moment over the ease with which he was doing strange and glittering
+miracles, a happy thought shot into his mind:  why not make his mother
+Duchess of Offal Court, and give her an estate?  But a sorrowful
+thought swept it instantly away: he was only a king in name, these grave
+veterans and great nobles were his masters; to them his mother was only
+the creature of a diseased mind; they would simply listen to his project
+with unbelieving ears, then send for the doctor.
+
+The dull work went tediously on.  Petitions were read, and
+proclamations, patents, and all manner of wordy, repetitious, and
+wearisome papers relating to the public business; and at last Tom sighed
+pathetically and murmured to himself, “In what have I offended, that the
+good God should take me away from the fields and the free air and the
+sunshine, to shut me up here and make me a king and afflict me so?”
+  Then his poor muddled head nodded a while and presently drooped to his
+shoulder; and the business of the empire came to a standstill for want
+of that august factor, the ratifying power.  Silence ensued around
+the slumbering child, and the sages of the realm ceased from their
+deliberations.
+
+During the forenoon, Tom had an enjoyable hour, by permission of his
+keepers, Hertford and St. John, with the Lady Elizabeth and the little
+Lady Jane Grey; though the spirits of the princesses were rather subdued
+by the mighty stroke that had fallen upon the royal house; and at the
+end of the visit his ‘elder sister’--afterwards the ‘Bloody Mary’ of
+history--chilled him with a solemn interview which had but one merit in
+his eyes, its brevity.  He had a few moments to himself, and then a slim
+lad of about twelve years of age was admitted to his presence, whose
+clothing, except his snowy ruff and the laces about his wrists, was of
+black,--doublet, hose, and all.  He bore no badge of mourning but a knot
+of purple ribbon on his shoulder.  He advanced hesitatingly, with head
+bowed and bare, and dropped upon one knee in front of Tom. Tom sat still
+and contemplated him soberly a moment.  Then he said--
+
+“Rise, lad.  Who art thou.  What wouldst have?”
+
+The boy rose, and stood at graceful ease, but with an aspect of concern
+in his face.  He said--
+
+“Of a surety thou must remember me, my lord.  I am thy whipping-boy.”
+
+“My _whipping_-boy?”
+
+“The same, your Grace.  I am Humphrey--Humphrey Marlow.”
+
+Tom perceived that here was someone whom his keepers ought to have
+posted him about.  The situation was delicate.  What should he
+do?--pretend he knew this lad, and then betray by his every utterance
+that he had never heard of him before?  No, that would not do.  An idea
+came to his relief: accidents like this might be likely to happen with
+some frequency, now that business urgencies would often call Hertford
+and St. John from his side, they being members of the Council of
+Executors; therefore perhaps it would be well to strike out a plan
+himself to meet the requirements of such emergencies.  Yes, that would
+be a wise course--he would practise on this boy, and see what sort of
+success he might achieve.  So he stroked his brow perplexedly a moment
+or two, and presently said--
+
+“Now I seem to remember thee somewhat--but my wit is clogged and dim
+with suffering--”
+
+“Alack, my poor master!” ejaculated the whipping-boy, with feeling;
+adding, to himself, “In truth ’tis as they said--his mind is gone--alas,
+poor soul!  But misfortune catch me, how am I forgetting!  They said one
+must not seem to observe that aught is wrong with him.”
+
+“‘Tis strange how my memory doth wanton with me these days,” said Tom.
+“But mind it not--I mend apace--a little clue doth often serve to bring
+me back again the things and names which had escaped me.  (And not they,
+only, forsooth, but e’en such as I ne’er heard before--as this lad shall
+see.)  Give thy business speech.”
+
+“‘Tis matter of small weight, my liege, yet will I touch upon it, an’ it
+please your Grace.  Two days gone by, when your Majesty faulted thrice
+in your Greek--in the morning lessons,--dost remember it?”
+
+“Y-e-s--methinks I do.  (It is not much of a lie--an’ I had meddled with
+the Greek at all, I had not faulted simply thrice, but forty times.)
+Yes, I do recall it, now--go on.”
+
+“The master, being wroth with what he termed such slovenly and doltish
+work, did promise that he would soundly whip me for it--and--”
+
+“Whip _thee_!” said Tom, astonished out of his presence of mind. “Why
+should he whip _thee_ for faults of mine?”
+
+“Ah, your Grace forgetteth again.  He always scourgeth me when thou dost
+fail in thy lessons.”
+
+“True, true--I had forgot.  Thou teachest me in private--then if I fail,
+he argueth that thy office was lamely done, and--”
+
+“Oh, my liege, what words are these?  I, the humblest of thy servants,
+presume to teach _thee_?”
+
+“Then where is thy blame?  What riddle is this?  Am I in truth gone mad,
+or is it thou?  Explain--speak out.”
+
+“But, good your Majesty, there’s nought that needeth simplifying.--None
+may visit the sacred person of the Prince of Wales with blows;
+wherefore, when he faulteth, ’tis I that take them; and meet it is and
+right, for that it is mine office and my livelihood.” {1}
+
+Tom stared at the tranquil boy, observing to himself, “Lo, it is a
+wonderful thing,--a most strange and curious trade; I marvel they have
+not hired a boy to take my combings and my dressings for me--would
+heaven they would!--an’ they will do this thing, I will take my lashings
+in mine own person, giving God thanks for the change.” Then he said
+aloud--
+
+“And hast thou been beaten, poor friend, according to the promise?”
+
+“No, good your Majesty, my punishment was appointed for this day, and
+peradventure it may be annulled, as unbefitting the season of mourning
+that is come upon us; I know not, and so have made bold to come hither
+and remind your Grace about your gracious promise to intercede in my
+behalf--”
+
+“With the master?  To save thee thy whipping?”
+
+“Ah, thou dost remember!”
+
+“My memory mendeth, thou seest.  Set thy mind at ease--thy back shall go
+unscathed--I will see to it.”
+
+“Oh, thanks, my good lord!” cried the boy, dropping upon his knee again.
+“Mayhap I have ventured far enow; and yet--”
+
+Seeing Master Humphrey hesitate, Tom encouraged him to go on, saying he
+was “in the granting mood.”
+
+“Then will I speak it out, for it lieth near my heart.  Sith thou art
+no more Prince of Wales but King, thou canst order matters as thou wilt,
+with none to say thee nay; wherefore it is not in reason that thou wilt
+longer vex thyself with dreary studies, but wilt burn thy books and
+turn thy mind to things less irksome. Then am I ruined, and mine orphan
+sisters with me!”
+
+“Ruined?  Prithee how?”
+
+“My back is my bread, O my gracious liege! if it go idle, I starve.  An’
+thou cease from study mine office is gone thou’lt need no whipping-boy.
+Do not turn me away!”
+
+Tom was touched with this pathetic distress.  He said, with a right
+royal burst of generosity--
+
+“Discomfort thyself no further, lad.  Thine office shall be permanent in
+thee and thy line for ever.”  Then he struck the boy a light blow on the
+shoulder with the flat of his sword, exclaiming, “Rise, Humphrey Marlow,
+Hereditary Grand Whipping-Boy to the Royal House of England!  Banish
+sorrow--I will betake me to my books again, and study so ill that they
+must in justice treble thy wage, so mightily shall the business of thine
+office be augmented.”
+
+The grateful Humphrey responded fervidly--
+
+“Thanks, O most noble master, this princely lavishness doth far surpass
+my most distempered dreams of fortune.  Now shall I be happy all my
+days, and all the house of Marlow after me.”
+
+Tom had wit enough to perceive that here was a lad who could be useful
+to him.  He encouraged Humphrey to talk, and he was nothing loath.
+ He was delighted to believe that he was helping in Tom’s ‘cure’; for
+always, as soon as he had finished calling back to Tom’s diseased mind
+the various particulars of his experiences and adventures in the royal
+school-room and elsewhere about the palace, he noticed that Tom was then
+able to ‘recall’ the circumstances quite clearly.  At the end of an
+hour Tom found himself well freighted with very valuable information
+concerning personages and matters pertaining to the Court; so he
+resolved to draw instruction from this source daily; and to this end he
+would give order to admit Humphrey to the royal closet whenever he might
+come, provided the Majesty of England was not engaged with other people.
+ Humphrey had hardly been dismissed when my Lord Hertford arrived with
+more trouble for Tom.
+
+He said that the Lords of the Council, fearing that some overwrought
+report of the King’s damaged health might have leaked out and got
+abroad, they deemed it wise and best that his Majesty should begin to
+dine in public after a day or two--his wholesome complexion and vigorous
+step, assisted by a carefully guarded repose of manner and ease and
+grace of demeanour, would more surely quiet the general pulse--in case
+any evil rumours _had_ gone about--than any other scheme that could be
+devised.
+
+Then the Earl proceeded, very delicately, to instruct Tom as to the
+observances proper to the stately occasion, under the rather thin
+disguise of ‘reminding’ him concerning things already known to him; but
+to his vast gratification it turned out that Tom needed very little help
+in this line--he had been making use of Humphrey in that direction, for
+Humphrey had mentioned that within a few days he was to begin to dine
+in public; having gathered it from the swift-winged gossip of the Court.
+Tom kept these facts to himself, however.
+
+Seeing the royal memory so improved, the Earl ventured to apply a
+few tests to it, in an apparently casual way, to find out how far its
+amendment had progressed.  The results were happy, here and there, in
+spots--spots where Humphrey’s tracks remained--and on the whole my lord
+was greatly pleased and encouraged.  So encouraged was he, indeed, that
+he spoke up and said in a quite hopeful voice--
+
+“Now am I persuaded that if your Majesty will but tax your memory yet
+a little further, it will resolve the puzzle of the Great Seal--a loss
+which was of moment yesterday, although of none to-day, since its term
+of service ended with our late lord’s life. May it please your Grace to
+make the trial?”
+
+Tom was at sea--a Great Seal was something which he was totally
+unacquainted with.  After a moment’s hesitation he looked up innocently
+and asked--
+
+“What was it like, my lord?”
+
+The Earl started, almost imperceptibly, muttering to himself, “Alack,
+his wits are flown again!--it was ill wisdom to lead him on to strain
+them”--then he deftly turned the talk to other matters, with the purpose
+of sweeping the unlucky seal out of Tom’s thoughts--a purpose which
+easily succeeded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. Tom as King.
+
+The next day the foreign ambassadors came, with their gorgeous trains;
+and Tom, throned in awful state, received them.  The splendours of the
+scene delighted his eye and fired his imagination at first, but
+the audience was long and dreary, and so were most of the
+addresses--wherefore, what began as a pleasure grew into weariness and
+home-sickness by-and-by.  Tom said the words which Hertford put into
+his mouth from time to time, and tried hard to acquit himself
+satisfactorily, but he was too new to such things, and too ill at ease
+to accomplish more than a tolerable success.  He looked sufficiently
+like a king, but he was ill able to feel like one.  He was cordially
+glad when the ceremony was ended.
+
+The larger part of his day was ‘wasted’--as he termed it, in his own
+mind--in labours pertaining to his royal office.  Even the two hours
+devoted to certain princely pastimes and recreations were rather a
+burden to him than otherwise, they were so fettered by restrictions
+and ceremonious observances.  However, he had a private hour with
+his whipping-boy which he counted clear gain, since he got both
+entertainment and needful information out of it.
+
+The third day of Tom Canty’s kingship came and went much as the others
+had done, but there was a lifting of his cloud in one way--he felt
+less uncomfortable than at first; he was getting a little used to his
+circumstances and surroundings; his chains still galled, but not all the
+time; he found that the presence and homage of the great afflicted and
+embarrassed him less and less sharply with every hour that drifted over
+his head.
+
+But for one single dread, he could have seen the fourth day approach
+without serious distress--the dining in public; it was to begin that
+day. There were greater matters in the programme--for on that day
+he would have to preside at a council which would take his views and
+commands concerning the policy to be pursued toward various foreign
+nations scattered far and near over the great globe; on that day, too,
+Hertford would be formally chosen to the grand office of Lord Protector;
+other things of note were appointed for that fourth day, also; but to
+Tom they were all insignificant compared with the ordeal of dining all
+by himself with a multitude of curious eyes fastened upon him and a
+multitude of mouths whispering comments upon his performance,--and upon
+his mistakes, if he should be so unlucky as to make any.
+
+Still, nothing could stop that fourth day, and so it came.  It found
+poor Tom low-spirited and absent-minded, and this mood continued; he
+could not shake it off.  The ordinary duties of the morning dragged upon
+his hands, and wearied him.  Once more he felt the sense of captivity
+heavy upon him.
+
+Late in the forenoon he was in a large audience-chamber, conversing
+with the Earl of Hertford and dully awaiting the striking of the hour
+appointed for a visit of ceremony from a considerable number of great
+officials and courtiers.
+
+After a little while, Tom, who had wandered to a window and become
+interested in the life and movement of the great highway beyond the
+palace gates--and not idly interested, but longing with all his heart
+to take part in person in its stir and freedom--saw the van of a hooting
+and shouting mob of disorderly men, women, and children of the lowest
+and poorest degree approaching from up the road.
+
+“I would I knew what ’tis about!” he exclaimed, with all a boy’s
+curiosity in such happenings.
+
+“Thou art the King!” solemnly responded the Earl, with a reverence.
+“Have I your Grace’s leave to act?”
+
+“O blithely, yes!  O gladly, yes!” exclaimed Tom excitedly, adding to
+himself with a lively sense of satisfaction, “In truth, being a king is
+not all dreariness--it hath its compensations and conveniences.”
+
+The Earl called a page, and sent him to the captain of the guard with
+the order--
+
+“Let the mob be halted, and inquiry made concerning the occasion of its
+movement.  By the King’s command!”
+
+A few seconds later a long rank of the royal guards, cased in flashing
+steel, filed out at the gates and formed across the highway in front
+of the multitude.  A messenger returned, to report that the crowd were
+following a man, a woman, and a young girl to execution for crimes
+committed against the peace and dignity of the realm.
+
+Death--and a violent death--for these poor unfortunates!  The thought
+wrung Tom’s heart-strings.  The spirit of compassion took control of
+him, to the exclusion of all other considerations; he never thought of
+the offended laws, or of the grief or loss which these three criminals
+had inflicted upon their victims; he could think of nothing but the
+scaffold and the grisly fate hanging over the heads of the condemned.
+ His concern made him even forget, for the moment, that he was but the
+false shadow of a king, not the substance; and before he knew it he had
+blurted out the command--
+
+“Bring them here!”
+
+Then he blushed scarlet, and a sort of apology sprung to his lips; but
+observing that his order had wrought no sort of surprise in the Earl or
+the waiting page, he suppressed the words he was about to utter.  The
+page, in the most matter-of-course way, made a profound obeisance
+and retired backwards out of the room to deliver the command.  Tom
+experienced a glow of pride and a renewed sense of the compensating
+advantages of the kingly office. He said to himself, “Truly it is like
+what I was used to feel when I read the old priest’s tales, and did
+imagine mine own self a prince, giving law and command to all, saying
+‘Do this, do that,’ whilst none durst offer let or hindrance to my
+will.”
+
+Now the doors swung open; one high-sounding title after another was
+announced, the personages owning them followed, and the place was
+quickly half-filled with noble folk and finery.  But Tom was hardly
+conscious of the presence of these people, so wrought up was he and so
+intensely absorbed in that other and more interesting matter.  He seated
+himself absently in his chair of state, and turned his eyes upon the
+door with manifestations of impatient expectancy; seeing which, the
+company forbore to trouble him, and fell to chatting a mixture of public
+business and court gossip one with another.
+
+In a little while the measured tread of military men was heard
+approaching, and the culprits entered the presence in charge of an
+under-sheriff and escorted by a detail of the king’s guard.  The civil
+officer knelt before Tom, then stood aside; the three doomed persons
+knelt, also, and remained so; the guard took position behind Tom’s
+chair.  Tom scanned the prisoners curiously. Something about the dress
+or appearance of the man had stirred a vague memory in him.  “Methinks
+I have seen this man ere now . . . but the when or the where fail
+me.”--Such was Tom’s thought. Just then the man glanced quickly up and
+quickly dropped his face again, not being able to endure the awful port
+of sovereignty; but the one full glimpse of the face which Tom got was
+sufficient.  He said to himself: “Now is the matter clear; this is the
+stranger that plucked Giles Witt out of the Thames, and saved his life,
+that windy, bitter, first day of the New Year--a brave good deed--pity
+he hath been doing baser ones and got himself in this sad case . . . I
+have not forgot the day, neither the hour; by reason that an hour after,
+upon the stroke of eleven, I did get a hiding by the hand of Gammer
+Canty which was of so goodly and admired severity that all that
+went before or followed after it were but fondlings and caresses by
+comparison.”
+
+Tom now ordered that the woman and the girl be removed from the presence
+for a little time; then addressed himself to the under-sheriff, saying--
+
+“Good sir, what is this man’s offence?”
+
+The officer knelt, and answered--
+
+“So please your Majesty, he hath taken the life of a subject by poison.”
+
+Tom’s compassion for the prisoner, and admiration of him as the daring
+rescuer of a drowning boy, experienced a most damaging shock.
+
+“The thing was proven upon him?” he asked.
+
+“Most clearly, sire.”
+
+Tom sighed, and said--
+
+“Take him away--he hath earned his death.  ‘Tis a pity, for he was a
+brave heart--na--na, I mean he hath the _look_ of it!”
+
+The prisoner clasped his hands together with sudden energy, and wrung
+them despairingly, at the same time appealing imploringly to the ‘King’
+in broken and terrified phrases--
+
+“O my lord the King, an’ thou canst pity the lost, have pity upon me!  I
+am innocent--neither hath that wherewith I am charged been more than
+but lamely proved--yet I speak not of that; the judgment is gone forth
+against me and may not suffer alteration; yet in mine extremity I beg a
+boon, for my doom is more than I can bear. A grace, a grace, my lord the
+King! in thy royal compassion grant my prayer--give commandment that I
+be hanged!”
+
+Tom was amazed.  This was not the outcome he had looked for.
+
+“Odds my life, a strange _boon_!  Was it not the fate intended thee?”
+
+“O good my liege, not so!  It is ordered that I be _boiled alive_!”
+
+The hideous surprise of these words almost made Tom spring from his
+chair.  As soon as he could recover his wits he cried out--
+
+“Have thy wish, poor soul! an’ thou had poisoned a hundred men thou
+shouldst not suffer so miserable a death.”
+
+The prisoner bowed his face to the ground and burst into passionate
+expressions of gratitude--ending with--
+
+“If ever thou shouldst know misfortune--which God forefend!--may thy
+goodness to me this day be remembered and requited!”
+
+Tom turned to the Earl of Hertford, and said--
+
+“My lord, is it believable that there was warrant for this man’s
+ferocious doom?”
+
+“It is the law, your Grace--for poisoners.  In Germany coiners be boiled
+to death in _oil_--not cast in of a sudden, but by a rope let down into
+the oil by degrees, and slowly; first the feet, then the legs, then--”
+
+“O prithee no more, my lord, I cannot bear it!” cried Tom, covering
+his eyes with his hands to shut out the picture.  “I beseech your good
+lordship that order be taken to change this law--oh, let no more poor
+creatures be visited with its tortures.”
+
+The Earl’s face showed profound gratification, for he was a man of
+merciful and generous impulses--a thing not very common with his class
+in that fierce age.  He said--
+
+“These your Grace’s noble words have sealed its doom.  History will
+remember it to the honour of your royal house.”
+
+The under-sheriff was about to remove his prisoner; Tom gave him a sign
+to wait; then he said--
+
+“Good sir, I would look into this matter further.  The man has said his
+deed was but lamely proved.  Tell me what thou knowest.”
+
+“If the King’s grace please, it did appear upon the trial that this
+man entered into a house in the hamlet of Islington where one lay
+sick--three witnesses say it was at ten of the clock in the morning, and
+two say it was some minutes later--the sick man being alone at the time,
+and sleeping--and presently the man came forth again and went his
+way.  The sick man died within the hour, being torn with spasms and
+retchings.”
+
+“Did any see the poison given?  Was poison found?”
+
+“Marry, no, my liege.”
+
+“Then how doth one know there was poison given at all?”
+
+“Please your Majesty, the doctors testified that none die with such
+symptoms but by poison.”
+
+Weighty evidence, this, in that simple age.  Tom recognised its
+formidable nature, and said--
+
+“The doctor knoweth his trade--belike they were right.  The matter hath
+an ill-look for this poor man.”
+
+“Yet was not this all, your Majesty; there is more and worse. Many
+testified that a witch, since gone from the village, none know whither,
+did foretell, and speak it privately in their ears, that the sick
+man _would die by poison_--and more, that a stranger would give it--a
+stranger with brown hair and clothed in a worn and common garb; and
+surely this prisoner doth answer woundily to the bill.  Please your
+Majesty to give the circumstance that solemn weight which is its due,
+seeing it was _foretold_.”
+
+This was an argument of tremendous force in that superstitious day.  Tom
+felt that the thing was settled; if evidence was worth anything, this
+poor fellow’s guilt was proved.  Still he offered the prisoner a chance,
+saying--
+
+“If thou canst say aught in thy behalf, speak.”
+
+“Nought that will avail, my King.  I am innocent, yet cannot I make
+it appear.  I have no friends, else might I show that I was not in
+Islington that day; so also might I show that at that hour they name I
+was above a league away, seeing I was at Wapping Old Stairs; yea more,
+my King, for I could show, that whilst they say I was _taking_ life, I
+was _saving_ it.  A drowning boy--”
+
+“Peace!  Sheriff, name the day the deed was done!”
+
+“At ten in the morning, or some minutes later, the first day of the New
+Year, most illustrious--”
+
+“Let the prisoner go free--it is the King’s will!”
+
+Another blush followed this unregal outburst, and he covered his
+indecorum as well as he could by adding--
+
+“It enrageth me that a man should be hanged upon such idle, hare-brained
+evidence!”
+
+A low buzz of admiration swept through the assemblage.  It was not
+admiration of the decree that had been delivered by Tom, for the
+propriety or expediency of pardoning a convicted poisoner was a thing
+which few there would have felt justified in either admitting or
+admiring--no, the admiration was for the intelligence and spirit which
+Tom had displayed.  Some of the low-voiced remarks were to this effect--
+
+“This is no mad king--he hath his wits sound.”
+
+“How sanely he put his questions--how like his former natural self was
+this abrupt imperious disposal of the matter!”
+
+“God be thanked, his infirmity is spent!  This is no weakling, but a
+king.  He hath borne himself like to his own father.”
+
+The air being filled with applause, Tom’s ear necessarily caught a
+little of it.  The effect which this had upon him was to put him
+greatly at his ease, and also to charge his system with very gratifying
+sensations.
+
+However, his juvenile curiosity soon rose superior to these pleasant
+thoughts and feelings; he was eager to know what sort of deadly mischief
+the woman and the little girl could have been about; so, by his command,
+the two terrified and sobbing creatures were brought before him.
+
+“What is it that these have done?” he inquired of the sheriff.
+
+“Please your Majesty, a black crime is charged upon them, and clearly
+proven; wherefore the judges have decreed, according to the law, that
+they be hanged.  They sold themselves to the devil--such is their
+crime.”
+
+Tom shuddered.  He had been taught to abhor people who did this wicked
+thing.  Still, he was not going to deny himself the pleasure of feeding
+his curiosity for all that; so he asked--
+
+“Where was this done?--and when?”
+
+“On a midnight in December, in a ruined church, your Majesty.”
+
+Tom shuddered again.
+
+“Who was there present?”
+
+“Only these two, your grace--and _that other_.”
+
+“Have these confessed?”
+
+“Nay, not so, sire--they do deny it.”
+
+“Then prithee, how was it known?”
+
+“Certain witness did see them wending thither, good your Majesty; this
+bred the suspicion, and dire effects have since confirmed and justified
+it.  In particular, it is in evidence that through the wicked power so
+obtained, they did invoke and bring about a storm that wasted all the
+region round about.  Above forty witnesses have proved the storm; and
+sooth one might have had a thousand, for all had reason to remember it,
+sith all had suffered by it.”
+
+“Certes this is a serious matter.”  Tom turned this dark piece of
+scoundrelism over in his mind a while, then asked--
+
+“Suffered the woman also by the storm?”
+
+Several old heads among the assemblage nodded their recognition of
+the wisdom of this question.  The sheriff, however, saw nothing
+consequential in the inquiry; he answered, with simple directness--
+
+“Indeed did she, your Majesty, and most righteously, as all aver. Her
+habitation was swept away, and herself and child left shelterless.”
+
+“Methinks the power to do herself so ill a turn was dearly bought. She
+had been cheated, had she paid but a farthing for it; that she paid
+her soul, and her child’s, argueth that she is mad; if she is mad she
+knoweth not what she doth, therefore sinneth not.”
+
+The elderly heads nodded recognition of Tom’s wisdom once more, and one
+individual murmured, “An’ the King be mad himself, according to report,
+then is it a madness of a sort that would improve the sanity of some I
+wot of, if by the gentle providence of God they could but catch it.”
+
+“What age hath the child?” asked Tom.
+
+“Nine years, please your Majesty.”
+
+“By the law of England may a child enter into covenant and sell itself,
+my lord?” asked Tom, turning to a learned judge.
+
+“The law doth not permit a child to make or meddle in any weighty
+matter, good my liege, holding that its callow wit unfitteth it to cope
+with the riper wit and evil schemings of them that are its elders.  The
+_Devil_ may buy a child, if he so choose, and the child agree thereto,
+but not an Englishman--in this latter case the contract would be null
+and void.”
+
+“It seemeth a rude unchristian thing, and ill contrived, that English
+law denieth privileges to Englishmen to waste them on the devil!” cried
+Tom, with honest heat.
+
+This novel view of the matter excited many smiles, and was stored
+away in many heads to be repeated about the Court as evidence of Tom’s
+originality as well as progress toward mental health.
+
+The elder culprit had ceased from sobbing, and was hanging upon Tom’s
+words with an excited interest and a growing hope.  Tom noticed this,
+and it strongly inclined his sympathies toward her in her perilous and
+unfriended situation.  Presently he asked--
+
+“How wrought they to bring the storm?”
+
+“_By pulling off their stockings_, sire.”
+
+This astonished Tom, and also fired his curiosity to fever heat. He
+said, eagerly--
+
+“It is wonderful!  Hath it always this dread effect?”
+
+“Always, my liege--at least if the woman desire it, and utter the
+needful words, either in her mind or with her tongue.”
+
+Tom turned to the woman, and said with impetuous zeal--
+
+“Exert thy power--I would see a storm!”
+
+There was a sudden paling of cheeks in the superstitious assemblage, and
+a general, though unexpressed, desire to get out of the place--all of
+which was lost upon Tom, who was dead to everything but the proposed
+cataclysm.  Seeing a puzzled and astonished look in the woman’s face, he
+added, excitedly--
+
+“Never fear--thou shalt be blameless.  More--thou shalt go free--none
+shall touch thee.  Exert thy power.”
+
+“Oh, my lord the King, I have it not--I have been falsely accused.”
+
+“Thy fears stay thee.  Be of good heart, thou shalt suffer no harm.
+ Make a storm--it mattereth not how small a one--I require nought great
+or harmful, but indeed prefer the opposite--do this and thy life is
+spared--thou shalt go out free, with thy child, bearing the King’s
+pardon, and safe from hurt or malice from any in the realm.”
+
+The woman prostrated herself, and protested, with tears, that she had
+no power to do the miracle, else she would gladly win her child’s life
+alone, and be content to lose her own, if by obedience to the King’s
+command so precious a grace might be acquired.
+
+Tom urged--the woman still adhered to her declarations.  Finally he
+said--
+
+“I think the woman hath said true.  An’ _my_ mother were in her place
+and gifted with the devil’s functions, she had not stayed a moment to
+call her storms and lay the whole land in ruins, if the saving of my
+forfeit life were the price she got!  It is argument that other
+mothers are made in like mould.  Thou art free, goodwife--thou and thy
+child--for I do think thee innocent.  _Now_ thou’st nought to fear,
+being pardoned--pull off thy stockings!--an’ thou canst make me a storm,
+thou shalt be rich!”
+
+The redeemed creature was loud in her gratitude, and proceeded to
+obey, whilst Tom looked on with eager expectancy, a little marred
+by apprehension; the courtiers at the same time manifesting decided
+discomfort and uneasiness.  The woman stripped her own feet and her
+little girl’s also, and plainly did her best to reward the King’s
+generosity with an earthquake, but it was all a failure and a
+disappointment.  Tom sighed, and said--
+
+“There, good soul, trouble thyself no further, thy power is departed
+out of thee.  Go thy way in peace; and if it return to thee at any time,
+forget me not, but fetch me a storm.” {13}
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. The State Dinner.
+
+The dinner hour drew near--yet strangely enough, the thought brought
+but slight discomfort to Tom, and hardly any terror.  The morning’s
+experiences had wonderfully built up his confidence; the poor little
+ash-cat was already more wonted to his strange garret, after four
+days’ habit, than a mature person could have become in a full month.  A
+child’s facility in accommodating itself to circumstances was never more
+strikingly illustrated.
+
+Let us privileged ones hurry to the great banqueting-room and have a
+glance at matters there whilst Tom is being made ready for the
+imposing occasion.  It is a spacious apartment, with gilded pillars
+and pilasters, and pictured walls and ceilings.  At the door stand tall
+guards, as rigid as statues, dressed in rich and picturesque costumes,
+and bearing halberds.  In a high gallery which runs all around the place
+is a band of musicians and a packed company of citizens of both sexes,
+in brilliant attire.  In the centre of the room, upon a raised platform,
+is Tom’s table. Now let the ancient chronicler speak:
+
+“A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod, and along with him another
+bearing a tablecloth, which, after they have both kneeled three times
+with the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table, and after
+kneeling again they both retire; then come two others, one with the rod
+again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread; when they have
+kneeled as the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the
+table, they too retire with the same ceremonies performed by the first;
+at last come two nobles, richly clothed, one bearing a tasting-knife,
+who, after prostrating themselves three times in the most graceful
+manner, approach and rub the table with bread and salt, with as much awe
+as if the King had been present.” {6}
+
+So end the solemn preliminaries.  Now, far down the echoing corridors
+we hear a bugle-blast, and the indistinct cry, “Place for the King!
+ Way for the King’s most excellent majesty!”  These sounds are momently
+repeated--they grow nearer and nearer--and presently, almost in our
+faces, the martial note peals and the cry rings out, “Way for the King!”
+  At this instant the shining pageant appears, and files in at the door,
+with a measured march. Let the chronicler speak again:--
+
+“First come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly
+dressed and bareheaded; next comes the Chancellor, between two, one of
+which carries the royal sceptre, the other the Sword of State in a red
+scabbard, studded with golden fleurs-de-lis, the point upwards; next
+comes the King himself--whom, upon his appearing, twelve trumpets and
+many drums salute with a great burst of welcome, whilst all in the
+galleries rise in their places, crying ‘God save the King!’  After him
+come nobles attached to his person, and on his right and left march his
+guard of honour, his fifty Gentlemen Pensioners, with gilt battle-axes.”
+
+This was all fine and pleasant.  Tom’s pulse beat high, and a glad light
+was in his eye.  He bore himself right gracefully, and all the more
+so because he was not thinking of how he was doing it, his mind being
+charmed and occupied with the blithe sights and sounds about him--and
+besides, nobody can be very ungraceful in nicely-fitting beautiful
+clothes after he has grown a little used to them--especially if he is
+for the moment unconscious of them. Tom remembered his instructions, and
+acknowledged his greeting with a slight inclination of his plumed head,
+and a courteous “I thank ye, my good people.”
+
+He seated himself at table, without removing his cap; and did it without
+the least embarrassment; for to eat with one’s cap on was the one
+solitary royal custom upon which the kings and the Cantys met upon
+common ground, neither party having any advantage over the other in the
+matter of old familiarity with it.  The pageant broke up and grouped
+itself picturesquely, and remained bareheaded.
+
+Now to the sound of gay music the Yeomen of the Guard entered,--“the
+tallest and mightiest men in England, they being carefully selected in
+this regard”--but we will let the chronicler tell about it:--
+
+“The Yeomen of the Guard entered, bareheaded, clothed in scarlet, with
+golden roses upon their backs; and these went and came, bringing in each
+turn a course of dishes, served in plate.  These dishes were received
+by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed upon
+the table, while the taster gave to each guard a mouthful to eat of the
+particular dish he had brought, for fear of any poison.”
+
+Tom made a good dinner, notwithstanding he was conscious that hundreds
+of eyes followed each morsel to his mouth and watched him eat it with an
+interest which could not have been more intense if it had been a deadly
+explosive and was expected to blow him up and scatter him all about
+the place.  He was careful not to hurry, and equally careful not to do
+anything whatever for himself, but wait till the proper official knelt
+down and did it for him.  He got through without a mistake--flawless and
+precious triumph.
+
+When the meal was over at last and he marched away in the midst of his
+bright pageant, with the happy noises in his ears of blaring bugles,
+rolling drums, and thundering acclamations, he felt that if he had seen
+the worst of dining in public it was an ordeal which he would be glad
+to endure several times a day if by that means he could but buy himself
+free from some of the more formidable requirements of his royal office.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. Foo-foo the First.
+
+Miles Hendon hurried along toward the Southwark end of the bridge,
+keeping a sharp look-out for the persons he sought, and hoping and
+expecting to overtake them presently.  He was disappointed in this,
+however.  By asking questions, he was enabled to track them part of the
+way through Southwark; then all traces ceased, and he was perplexed as
+to how to proceed.  Still, he continued his efforts as best he
+could during the rest of the day.  Nightfall found him leg-weary,
+half-famished, and his desire as far from accomplishment as ever; so
+he supped at the Tabard Inn and went to bed, resolved to make an early
+start in the morning, and give the town an exhaustive search.  As he lay
+thinking and planning, he presently began to reason thus:  The boy would
+escape from the ruffian, his reputed father, if possible; would he go
+back to London and seek his former haunts?  No, he would not do that,
+he would avoid recapture. What, then, would he do?  Never having had a
+friend in the world, or a protector, until he met Miles Hendon, he would
+naturally try to find that friend again, provided the effort did not
+require him to go toward London and danger.  He would strike for Hendon
+Hall, that is what he would do, for he knew Hendon was homeward bound
+and there he might expect to find him.  Yes, the case was plain to
+Hendon--he must lose no more time in Southwark, but move at once through
+Kent, toward Monk’s Holm, searching the wood and inquiring as he went.
+ Let us return to the vanished little King now.
+
+The ruffian whom the waiter at the inn on the bridge saw ‘about to join’
+the youth and the King did not exactly join them, but fell in close
+behind them and followed their steps.  He said nothing. His left arm was
+in a sling, and he wore a large green patch over his left eye; he limped
+slightly, and used an oaken staff as a support.  The youth led the King
+a crooked course through Southwark, and by-and-by struck into the
+high road beyond.  The King was irritated, now, and said he would stop
+here--it was Hendon’s place to come to him, not his to go to Hendon.  He
+would not endure such insolence; he would stop where he was.  The youth
+said--
+
+“Thou’lt tarry here, and thy friend lying wounded in the wood yonder?
+ So be it, then.”
+
+The King’s manner changed at once.  He cried out--
+
+“Wounded?  And who hath dared to do it?  But that is apart; lead on,
+lead on!  Faster, sirrah!  Art shod with lead?  Wounded, is he?  Now
+though the doer of it be a duke’s son he shall rue it!”
+
+It was some distance to the wood, but the space was speedily traversed.
+The youth looked about him, discovered a bough sticking in the ground,
+with a small bit of rag tied to it, then led the way into the forest,
+watching for similar boughs and finding them at intervals; they were
+evidently guides to the point he was aiming at.  By-and-by an open place
+was reached, where were the charred remains of a farm-house, and near
+them a barn which was falling to ruin and decay.  There was no sign of
+life anywhere, and utter silence prevailed.  The youth entered the barn,
+the King following eagerly upon his heels.  No one there! The King shot
+a surprised and suspicious glance at the youth, and asked--
+
+“Where is he?”
+
+A mocking laugh was his answer.  The King was in a rage in a moment; he
+seized a billet of wood and was in the act of charging upon the youth
+when another mocking laugh fell upon his ear.  It was from the lame
+ruffian who had been following at a distance. The King turned and said
+angrily--
+
+“Who art thou?  What is thy business here?”
+
+“Leave thy foolery,” said the man, “and quiet thyself.  My disguise is
+none so good that thou canst pretend thou knowest not thy father through
+it.”
+
+“Thou art not my father.  I know thee not.  I am the King.  If thou hast
+hid my servant, find him for me, or thou shalt sup sorrow for what thou
+hast done.”
+
+John Canty replied, in a stern and measured voice--
+
+“It is plain thou art mad, and I am loath to punish thee;  but if thou
+provoke me, I must.  Thy prating doth no harm here, where there are
+no ears that need to mind thy follies; yet it is well to practise thy
+tongue to wary speech, that it may do no hurt when our quarters change.
+ I have done a murder, and may not tarry at home--neither shalt thou,
+seeing I need thy service.  My name is changed, for wise reasons; it is
+Hobbs--John Hobbs; thine is Jack--charge thy memory accordingly.  Now,
+then, speak.  Where is thy mother?  Where are thy sisters?  They came
+not to the place appointed--knowest thou whither they went?”
+
+The King answered sullenly--
+
+“Trouble me not with these riddles.  My mother is dead; my sisters are
+in the palace.”
+
+The youth near by burst into a derisive laugh, and the King would have
+assaulted him, but Canty--or Hobbs, as he now called himself--prevented
+him, and said--
+
+“Peace, Hugo, vex him not; his mind is astray, and thy ways fret him.
+Sit thee down, Jack, and quiet thyself; thou shalt have a morsel to eat,
+anon.”
+
+Hobbs and Hugo fell to talking together, in low voices, and the King
+removed himself as far as he could from their disagreeable company.
+ He withdrew into the twilight of the farther end of the barn, where
+he found the earthen floor bedded a foot deep with straw.  He lay down
+here, drew straw over himself in lieu of blankets, and was soon absorbed
+in thinking.  He had many griefs, but the minor ones were swept almost
+into forgetfulness by the supreme one, the loss of his father.  To
+the rest of the world the name of Henry VIII. brought a shiver, and
+suggested an ogre whose nostrils breathed destruction and whose hand
+dealt scourgings and death; but to this boy the name brought only
+sensations of pleasure; the figure it invoked wore a countenance that
+was all gentleness and affection.  He called to mind a long succession
+of loving passages between his father and himself, and dwelt fondly upon
+them, his unstinted tears attesting how deep and real was the grief that
+possessed his heart. As the afternoon wasted away, the lad, wearied with
+his troubles, sank gradually into a tranquil and healing slumber.
+
+After a considerable time--he could not tell how long--his senses
+struggled to a half-consciousness, and as he lay with closed eyes
+vaguely wondering where he was and what had been happening, he noted a
+murmurous sound, the sullen beating of rain upon the roof. A snug sense
+of comfort stole over him, which was rudely broken, the next moment,
+by a chorus of piping cackles and coarse laughter.  It startled him
+disagreeably, and he unmuffled his head to see whence this interruption
+proceeded.  A grim and unsightly picture met his eye.  A bright fire was
+burning in the middle of the floor, at the other end of the barn; and
+around it, and lit weirdly up by the red glare, lolled and sprawled the
+motliest company of tattered gutter-scum and ruffians, of both sexes, he
+had ever read or dreamed of.  There were huge stalwart men, brown
+with exposure, long-haired, and clothed in fantastic rags; there were
+middle-sized youths, of truculent countenance, and similarly clad; there
+were blind mendicants, with patched or bandaged eyes; crippled ones,
+with wooden legs and crutches; diseased ones, with running sores peeping
+from ineffectual wrappings; there was a villain-looking pedlar with
+his pack; a knife-grinder, a tinker, and a barber-surgeon, with the
+implements of their trades; some of the females were hardly-grown girls,
+some were at prime, some were old and wrinkled hags, and all were loud,
+brazen, foul-mouthed; and all soiled and slatternly; there were three
+sore-faced babies; there were a couple of starveling curs, with strings
+about their necks, whose office was to lead the blind.
+
+The night was come, the gang had just finished feasting, an orgy was
+beginning; the can of liquor was passing from mouth to mouth. A general
+cry broke forth--
+
+“A song! a song from the Bat and Dick and Dot-and-go-One!”
+
+One of the blind men got up, and made ready by casting aside the patches
+that sheltered his excellent eyes, and the pathetic placard which
+recited the cause of his calamity.  Dot-and-go-One disencumbered himself
+of his timber leg and took his place, upon sound and healthy limbs,
+beside his fellow-rascal; then they roared out a rollicking ditty,
+and were reinforced by the whole crew, at the end of each stanza, in
+a rousing chorus.  By the time the last stanza was reached, the
+half-drunken enthusiasm had risen to such a pitch, that everybody joined
+in and sang it clear through from the beginning, producing a volume of
+villainous sound that made the rafters quake.  These were the inspiring
+words:--
+
+‘Bien Darkman’s then, Bouse Mort and Ken, The bien Coves bings awast, On
+Chates to trine by Rome Coves dine For his long lib at last. Bing’d out
+bien Morts and toure, and toure, Bing out of the Rome vile bine, And
+toure the Cove that cloy’d your duds, Upon the Chates to trine.’
+
+(From’The English Rogue.’ London, 1665.)
+
+Conversation followed; not in the thieves’ dialect of the song, for that
+was only used in talk when unfriendly ears might be listening.  In the
+course of it, it appeared that ‘John Hobbs’ was not altogether a new
+recruit, but had trained in the gang at some former time.  His later
+history was called for, and when he said he had ‘accidentally’ killed a
+man, considerable satisfaction was expressed; when he added that the
+man was a priest, he was roundly applauded, and had to take a drink with
+everybody.  Old acquaintances welcomed him joyously, and new ones were
+proud to shake him by the hand.  He was asked why he had ’tarried away
+so many months.’  He answered--
+
+“London is better than the country, and safer, these late years, the
+laws be so bitter and so diligently enforced.  An’ I had not had that
+accident, I had stayed there.  I had resolved to stay, and never more
+venture country-wards--but the accident has ended that.”
+
+He inquired how many persons the gang numbered now.  The ‘ruffler,’ or
+chief, answered--
+
+“Five and twenty sturdy budges, bulks, files, clapperdogeons and
+maunders, counting the dells and doxies and other morts. {7}  Most are
+here, the rest are wandering eastward, along the winter lay. We follow
+at dawn.”
+
+“I do not see the Wen among the honest folk about me.  Where may he be?”
+
+“Poor lad, his diet is brimstone, now, and over hot for a delicate
+taste. He was killed in a brawl, somewhere about midsummer.”
+
+“I sorrow to hear that; the Wen was a capable man, and brave.”
+
+“That was he, truly.  Black Bess, his dell, is of us yet, but absent on
+the eastward tramp; a fine lass, of nice ways and orderly conduct, none
+ever seeing her drunk above four days in the seven.”
+
+“She was ever strict--I remember it well--a goodly wench and worthy
+all commendation.  Her mother was more free and less particular; a
+troublesome and ugly-tempered beldame, but furnished with a wit above
+the common.”
+
+“We lost her through it.  Her gift of palmistry and other sorts of
+fortune-telling begot for her at last a witch’s name and fame. The
+law roasted her to death at a slow fire.  It did touch me to a sort of
+tenderness to see the gallant way she met her lot--cursing and reviling
+all the crowd that gaped and gazed around her, whilst the flames licked
+upward toward her face and catched her thin locks and crackled about
+her old gray head--cursing them! why an’ thou should’st live a thousand
+years thoud’st never hear so masterful a cursing.  Alack, her art died
+with her.  There be base and weakling imitations left, but no true
+blasphemy.”
+
+The Ruffler sighed; the listeners sighed in sympathy; a general
+depression fell upon the company for a moment, for even hardened
+outcasts like these are not wholly dead to sentiment, but are able to
+feel a fleeting sense of loss and affliction at wide intervals and
+under peculiarly favouring circumstances--as in cases like to this, for
+instance, when genius and culture depart and leave no heir.  However, a
+deep drink all round soon restored the spirits of the mourners.
+
+“Have any others of our friends fared hardly?” asked Hobbs.
+
+“Some--yes.  Particularly new comers--such as small husbandmen turned
+shiftless and hungry upon the world because their farms were taken from
+them to be changed to sheep ranges.  They begged, and were whipped at
+the cart’s tail, naked from the girdle up, till the blood ran; then set
+in the stocks to be pelted; they begged again, were whipped again, and
+deprived of an ear; they begged a third time--poor devils, what else
+could they do?--and were branded on the cheek with a red-hot iron, then
+sold for slaves; they ran away, were hunted down, and hanged.  ‘Tis
+a brief tale, and quickly told.  Others of us have fared less hardly.
+Stand forth, Yokel, Burns, and Hodge--show your adornments!”
+
+These stood up and stripped away some of their rags, exposing their
+backs, criss-crossed with ropy old welts left by the lash; one turned
+up his hair and showed the place where a left ear had once been; another
+showed a brand upon his shoulder--the letter V--and a mutilated ear; the
+third said--
+
+“I am Yokel, once a farmer and prosperous, with loving wife and
+kids--now am I somewhat different in estate and calling; and the wife
+and kids are gone; mayhap they are in heaven, mayhap in--in the other
+place--but the kindly God be thanked, they bide no more in _England_!
+ My good old blameless mother strove to earn bread by nursing the sick;
+one of these died, the doctors knew not how, so my mother was burnt for
+a witch, whilst my babes looked on and wailed.  English law!--up,
+all, with your cups!--now all together and with a cheer!--drink to the
+merciful English law that delivered _her_ from the English hell!  Thank
+you, mates, one and all.  I begged, from house to house--I and the
+wife--bearing with us the hungry kids--but it was crime to be hungry in
+England--so they stripped us and lashed us through three towns.  Drink
+ye all again to the merciful English law!--for its lash drank deep of my
+Mary’s blood and its blessed deliverance came quick.  She lies there, in
+the potter’s field, safe from all harms.  And the kids--well, whilst
+the law lashed me from town to town, they starved. Drink, lads--only
+a drop--a drop to the poor kids, that never did any creature harm.
+ I begged again--begged, for a crust, and got the stocks and lost an
+ear--see, here bides the stump; I begged again, and here is the stump
+of the other to keep me minded of it. And still I begged again, and was
+sold for a slave--here on my cheek under this stain, if I washed it off,
+ye might see the red S the branding-iron left there!  A _slave_!  Do
+you understand that word?  An English _slave_!--that is he that stands
+before ye.  I have run from my master, and when I am found--the heavy
+curse of heaven fall on the law of the land that hath commanded it!--I
+shall hang!” {1}
+
+A ringing voice came through the murky air--
+
+“Thou shalt _not_!--and this day the end of that law is come!”
+
+All turned, and saw the fantastic figure of the little King approaching
+hurriedly; as it emerged into the light and was clearly revealed, a
+general explosion of inquiries broke out--
+
+“Who is it?  _What_ is it?  Who art thou, manikin?”
+
+The boy stood unconfused in the midst of all those surprised and
+questioning eyes, and answered with princely dignity--
+
+“I am Edward, King of England.”
+
+A wild burst of laughter followed, partly of derision and partly of
+delight in the excellence of the joke.  The King was stung.  He said
+sharply--
+
+“Ye mannerless vagrants, is this your recognition of the royal boon I
+have promised?”
+
+He said more, with angry voice and excited gesture, but it was lost in
+a whirlwind of laughter and mocking exclamations.  ‘John Hobbs’ made
+several attempts to make himself heard above the din, and at last
+succeeded--saying--
+
+“Mates, he is my son, a dreamer, a fool, and stark mad--mind him not--he
+thinketh he _is_ the King.”
+
+“I _am_ the King,” said Edward, turning toward him, “as thou shalt know
+to thy cost, in good time.  Thou hast confessed a murder--thou shalt
+swing for it.”
+
+“_Thou’lt_ betray me?--_thou_?  An’ I get my hands upon thee--”
+
+“Tut-tut!” said the burley Ruffler, interposing in time to save the
+King, and emphasising this service by knocking Hobbs down with his fist,
+“hast respect for neither Kings _nor_ Rufflers?  An’ thou insult my
+presence so again, I’ll hang thee up myself.”  Then he said to his
+Majesty, “Thou must make no threats against thy mates, lad; and thou
+must guard thy tongue from saying evil of them elsewhere.  _Be king_, if
+it please thy mad humour, but be not harmful in it.  Sink the title thou
+hast uttered--‘tis treason; we be bad men in some few trifling ways, but
+none among us is so base as to be traitor to his King; we be loving
+and loyal hearts, in that regard.  Note if I speak truth.  Now--all
+together:  ‘Long live Edward, King of England!’”
+
+“LONG LIVE EDWARD, KING OF ENGLAND!”
+
+The response came with such a thundergust from the motley crew that the
+crazy building vibrated to the sound.  The little King’s face lighted
+with pleasure for an instant, and he slightly inclined his head, and
+said with grave simplicity--
+
+“I thank you, my good people.”
+
+This unexpected result threw the company into convulsions of merriment.
+When something like quiet was presently come again, the Ruffler said,
+firmly, but with an accent of good nature--
+
+“Drop it, boy, ’tis not wise, nor well.  Humour thy fancy, if thou must,
+but choose some other title.”
+
+A tinker shrieked out a suggestion--
+
+“Foo-foo the First, King of the Mooncalves!”
+
+The title ’took,’ at once, every throat responded, and a roaring shout
+went up, of--
+
+“Long live Foo-foo the First, King of the Mooncalves!” followed by
+hootings, cat-calls, and peals of laughter.
+
+“Hale him forth, and crown him!”
+
+“Robe him!”
+
+“Sceptre him!”
+
+“Throne him!”
+
+These and twenty other cries broke out at once! and almost before the
+poor little victim could draw a breath he was crowned with a tin basin,
+robed in a tattered blanket, throned upon a barrel, and sceptred with
+the tinker’s soldering-iron.  Then all flung themselves upon their
+knees about him and sent up a chorus of ironical wailings, and mocking
+supplications, whilst they swabbed their eyes with their soiled and
+ragged sleeves and aprons--
+
+“Be gracious to us, O sweet King!”
+
+“Trample not upon thy beseeching worms, O noble Majesty!”
+
+“Pity thy slaves, and comfort them with a royal kick!”
+
+“Cheer us and warm us with thy gracious rays, O flaming sun of
+sovereignty!”
+
+“Sanctify the ground with the touch of thy foot, that we may eat the
+dirt and be ennobled!”
+
+“Deign to spit upon us, O Sire, that our children’s children may tell of
+thy princely condescension, and be proud and happy for ever!”
+
+But the humorous tinker made the ‘hit’ of the evening and carried off
+the honours.  Kneeling, he pretended to kiss the King’s foot, and was
+indignantly spurned; whereupon he went about begging for a rag to paste
+over the place upon his face which had been touched by the foot, saying
+it must be preserved from contact with the vulgar air, and that he
+should make his fortune by going on the highway and exposing it to
+view at the rate of a hundred shillings a sight.  He made himself so
+killingly funny that he was the envy and admiration of the whole mangy
+rabble.
+
+Tears of shame and indignation stood in the little monarch’s eyes; and
+the thought in his heart was, “Had I offered them a deep wrong they
+could not be more cruel--yet have I proffered nought but to do them a
+kindness--and it is thus they use me for it!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. The Prince with the Tramps.
+
+The troop of vagabonds turned out at early dawn, and set forward on
+their march.  There was a lowering sky overhead, sloppy ground under
+foot, and a winter chill in the air.  All gaiety was gone from the
+company; some were sullen and silent, some were irritable and petulant,
+none were gentle-humoured, all were thirsty.
+
+The Ruffler put ‘Jack’ in Hugo’s charge, with some brief instructions,
+and commanded John Canty to keep away from him and let him alone; he
+also warned Hugo not to be too rough with the lad.
+
+After a while the weather grew milder, and the clouds lifted somewhat.
+The troop ceased to shiver, and their spirits began to improve.  They
+grew more and more cheerful, and finally began to chaff each other and
+insult passengers along the highway.  This showed that they were awaking
+to an appreciation of life and its joys once more.  The dread in which
+their sort was held was apparent in the fact that everybody gave them
+the road, and took their ribald insolences meekly, without venturing
+to talk back. They snatched linen from the hedges, occasionally in full
+view of the owners, who made no protest, but only seemed grateful that
+they did not take the hedges, too.
+
+By-and-by they invaded a small farmhouse and made themselves at home
+while the trembling farmer and his people swept the larder clean to
+furnish a breakfast for them.  They chucked the housewife and her
+daughters under the chin whilst receiving the food from their hands, and
+made coarse jests about them, accompanied with insulting epithets and
+bursts of horse-laughter.  They threw bones and vegetables at the farmer
+and his sons, kept them dodging all the time, and applauded uproariously
+when a good hit was made. They ended by buttering the head of one of
+the daughters who resented some of their familiarities.  When they took
+their leave they threatened to come back and burn the house over the
+heads of the family if any report of their doings got to the ears of the
+authorities.
+
+About noon, after a long and weary tramp, the gang came to a halt behind
+a hedge on the outskirts of a considerable village.  An hour was allowed
+for rest, then the crew scattered themselves abroad to enter the village
+at different points to ply their various trades--‘Jack’ was sent with
+Hugo.  They wandered hither and thither for some time, Hugo watching
+for opportunities to do a stroke of business, but finding none--so he
+finally said--
+
+“I see nought to steal; it is a paltry place.  Wherefore we will beg.”
+
+“_We_, forsooth!  Follow thy trade--it befits thee.  But _I_ will not
+beg.”
+
+“Thou’lt not beg!” exclaimed Hugo, eyeing the King with surprise.
+“Prithee, since when hast thou reformed?”
+
+“What dost thou mean?”
+
+“Mean?  Hast thou not begged the streets of London all thy life?”
+
+“I?  Thou idiot!”
+
+“Spare thy compliments--thy stock will last the longer.  Thy father says
+thou hast begged all thy days.  Mayhap he lied. Peradventure you will
+even make so bold as to _say_ he lied,” scoffed Hugo.
+
+“Him _you_ call my father?  Yes, he lied.”
+
+“Come, play not thy merry game of madman so far, mate; use it for thy
+amusement, not thy hurt.  An’ I tell him this, he will scorch thee
+finely for it.”
+
+“Save thyself the trouble.  I will tell him.”
+
+“I like thy spirit, I do in truth; but I do not admire thy judgment.
+Bone-rackings and bastings be plenty enow in this life, without going
+out of one’s way to invite them.  But a truce to these matters; _I_
+believe your father.  I doubt not he can lie; I doubt not he _doth_
+lie, upon occasion, for the best of us do that; but there is no occasion
+here.  A wise man does not waste so good a commodity as lying for
+nought.  But come; sith it is thy humour to give over begging,
+wherewithal shall we busy ourselves?  With robbing kitchens?”
+
+The King said, impatiently--
+
+“Have done with this folly--you weary me!”
+
+Hugo replied, with temper--
+
+“Now harkee, mate; you will not beg, you will not rob; so be it. But I
+will tell you what you _will_ do.  You will play decoy whilst _I_ beg.
+Refuse, an’ you think you may venture!”
+
+The King was about to reply contemptuously, when Hugo said,
+interrupting--
+
+“Peace!  Here comes one with a kindly face.  Now will I fall down in
+a fit.  When the stranger runs to me, set you up a wail, and fall upon
+your knees, seeming to weep; then cry out as all the devils of misery
+were in your belly, and say, ‘Oh, sir, it is my poor afflicted brother,
+and we be friendless; o’ God’s name cast through your merciful eyes one
+pitiful look upon a sick, forsaken, and most miserable wretch; bestow
+one little penny out of thy riches upon one smitten of God and ready
+to perish!’--and mind you, keep you _on_ wailing, and abate not till we
+bilk him of his penny, else shall you rue it.”
+
+Then immediately Hugo began to moan, and groan, and roll his eyes, and
+reel and totter about; and when the stranger was close at hand, down he
+sprawled before him, with a shriek, and began to writhe and wallow in
+the dirt, in seeming agony.
+
+“O, dear, O dear!” cried the benevolent stranger, “O poor soul, poor
+soul, how he doth suffer!  There--let me help thee up.”
+
+“O noble sir, forbear, and God love you for a princely gentleman--but it
+giveth me cruel pain to touch me when I am taken so.  My brother there
+will tell your worship how I am racked with anguish when these fits be
+upon me.  A penny, dear sir, a penny, to buy a little food; then leave
+me to my sorrows.”
+
+“A penny! thou shalt have three, thou hapless creature,”--and he fumbled
+in his pocket with nervous haste and got them out. “There, poor lad,
+take them and most welcome.  Now come hither, my boy, and help me carry
+thy stricken brother to yon house, where--”
+
+“I am not his brother,” said the King, interrupting.
+
+“What! not his brother?”
+
+“Oh, hear him!” groaned Hugo, then privately ground his teeth. “He
+denies his own brother--and he with one foot in the grave!”
+
+“Boy, thou art indeed hard of heart, if this is thy brother.  For
+shame!--and he scarce able to move hand or foot.  If he is not thy
+brother, who is he, then?”
+
+“A beggar and a thief!  He has got your money and has picked your pocket
+likewise.  An’ thou would’st do a healing miracle, lay thy staff over
+his shoulders and trust Providence for the rest.”
+
+But Hugo did not tarry for the miracle.  In a moment he was up and off
+like the wind, the gentleman following after and raising the hue and cry
+lustily as he went.  The King, breathing deep gratitude to Heaven for
+his own release, fled in the opposite direction, and did not slacken
+his pace until he was out of harm’s reach.  He took the first road that
+offered, and soon put the village behind him.  He hurried along, as
+briskly as he could, during several hours, keeping a nervous watch over
+his shoulder for pursuit; but his fears left him at last, and a grateful
+sense of security took their place.  He recognised, now, that he was
+hungry, and also very tired.  So he halted at a farmhouse; but when
+he was about to speak, he was cut short and driven rudely away.  His
+clothes were against him.
+
+He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and was resolved to put himself
+in the way of like treatment no more.  But hunger is pride’s master; so,
+as the evening drew near, he made an attempt at another farmhouse; but
+here he fared worse than before; for he was called hard names and was
+promised arrest as a vagrant except he moved on promptly.
+
+The night came on, chilly and overcast; and still the footsore monarch
+laboured slowly on.  He was obliged to keep moving, for every time he
+sat down to rest he was soon penetrated to the bone with the cold.  All
+his sensations and experiences, as he moved through the solemn gloom
+and the empty vastness of the night, were new and strange to him.  At
+intervals he heard voices approach, pass by, and fade into silence; and
+as he saw nothing more of the bodies they belonged to than a sort of
+formless drifting blur, there was something spectral and uncanny about
+it all that made him shudder.  Occasionally he caught the twinkle of a
+light--always far away, apparently--almost in another world; if he heard
+the tinkle of a sheep’s bell, it was vague, distant, indistinct;
+the muffled lowing of the herds floated to him on the night wind in
+vanishing cadences, a mournful sound; now and then came the complaining
+howl of a dog over viewless expanses of field and forest; all sounds
+were remote; they made the little King feel that all life and activity
+were far removed from him, and that he stood solitary, companionless, in
+the centre of a measureless solitude.
+
+He stumbled along, through the gruesome fascinations of this new
+experience, startled occasionally by the soft rustling of the dry leaves
+overhead, so like human whispers they seemed to sound; and by-and-by he
+came suddenly upon the freckled light of a tin lantern near at hand.  He
+stepped back into the shadows and waited.  The lantern stood by the
+open door of a barn.  The King waited some time--there was no sound,
+and nobody stirring.  He got so cold, standing still, and the hospitable
+barn looked so enticing, that at last he resolved to risk everything and
+enter. He started swiftly and stealthily, and just as he was crossing
+the threshold he heard voices behind him.  He darted behind a cask,
+within the barn, and stooped down.  Two farm-labourers came in, bringing
+the lantern with them, and fell to work, talking meanwhile.  Whilst they
+moved about with the light, the King made good use of his eyes and took
+the bearings of what seemed to be a good-sized stall at the further end
+of the place, purposing to grope his way to it when he should be left to
+himself.  He also noted the position of a pile of horse blankets, midway
+of the route, with the intent to levy upon them for the service of the
+crown of England for one night.
+
+By-and-by the men finished and went away, fastening the door behind
+them and taking the lantern with them.  The shivering King made for the
+blankets, with as good speed as the darkness would allow; gathered them
+up, and then groped his way safely to the stall.  Of two of the blankets
+he made a bed, then covered himself with the remaining two.  He was a
+glad monarch, now, though the blankets were old and thin, and not quite
+warm enough; and besides gave out a pungent horsey odour that was almost
+suffocatingly powerful.
+
+Although the King was hungry and chilly, he was also so tired and so
+drowsy that these latter influences soon began to get the advantage
+of the former, and he presently dozed off into a state of
+semi-consciousness.  Then, just as he was on the point of losing himself
+wholly, he distinctly felt something touch him!  He was broad awake in
+a moment, and gasping for breath.  The cold horror of that mysterious
+touch in the dark almost made his heart stand still.  He lay motionless,
+and listened, scarcely breathing. But nothing stirred, and there was
+no sound.  He continued to listen, and wait, during what seemed a long
+time, but still nothing stirred, and there was no sound.  So he began
+to drop into a drowse once more, at last; and all at once he felt that
+mysterious touch again!  It was a grisly thing, this light touch from
+this noiseless and invisible presence; it made the boy sick with ghostly
+fears.  What should he do?  That was the question; but he did not know
+how to answer it.  Should he leave these reasonably comfortable quarters
+and fly from this inscrutable horror?  But fly whither?  He could
+not get out of the barn; and the idea of scurrying blindly hither and
+thither in the dark, within the captivity of the four walls, with this
+phantom gliding after him, and visiting him with that soft hideous touch
+upon cheek or shoulder at every turn, was intolerable.  But to stay
+where he was, and endure this living death all night--was that better?
+ No.  What, then, was there left to do?  Ah, there was but one course;
+he knew it well--he must put out his hand and find that thing!
+
+It was easy to think this; but it was hard to brace himself up to try
+it. Three times he stretched his hand a little way out into the dark,
+gingerly; and snatched it suddenly back, with a gasp--not because it
+had encountered anything, but because he had felt so sure it was just
+_going_ to.  But the fourth time, he groped a little further, and his
+hand lightly swept against something soft and warm.  This petrified him,
+nearly, with fright; his mind was in such a state that he could imagine
+the thing to be nothing else than a corpse, newly dead and still warm.
+He thought he would rather die than touch it again.  But he thought this
+false thought because he did not know the immortal strength of
+human curiosity. In no long time his hand was tremblingly groping
+again--against his judgment, and without his consent--but groping
+persistently on, just the same.  It encountered a bunch of long hair; he
+shuddered, but followed up the hair and found what seemed to be a warm
+rope; followed up the rope and found an innocent calf!--for the rope was
+not a rope at all, but the calf’s tail.
+
+The King was cordially ashamed of himself for having gotten all that
+fright and misery out of so paltry a matter as a slumbering calf; but he
+need not have felt so about it, for it was not the calf that frightened
+him, but a dreadful non-existent something which the calf stood for; and
+any other boy, in those old superstitious times, would have acted and
+suffered just as he had done.
+
+The King was not only delighted to find that the creature was only a
+calf, but delighted to have the calf’s company; for he had been feeling
+so lonesome and friendless that the company and comradeship of even
+this humble animal were welcome.  And he had been so buffeted, so rudely
+entreated by his own kind, that it was a real comfort to him to feel
+that he was at last in the society of a fellow-creature that had at
+least a soft heart and a gentle spirit, whatever loftier attributes
+might be lacking.  So he resolved to waive rank and make friends with
+the calf.
+
+While stroking its sleek warm back--for it lay near him and within easy
+reach--it occurred to him that this calf might be utilised in more ways
+than one.  Whereupon he re-arranged his bed, spreading it down close to
+the calf; then he cuddled himself up to the calf’s back, drew the covers
+up over himself and his friend, and in a minute or two was as warm and
+comfortable as he had ever been in the downy couches of the regal palace
+of Westminster.
+
+Pleasant thoughts came at once; life took on a cheerfuller seeming.  He
+was free of the bonds of servitude and crime, free of the companionship
+of base and brutal outlaws; he was warm; he was sheltered; in a word, he
+was happy.  The night wind was rising; it swept by in fitful gusts
+that made the old barn quake and rattle, then its forces died down
+at intervals, and went moaning and wailing around corners and
+projections--but it was all music to the King, now that he was snug and
+comfortable: let it blow and rage, let it batter and bang, let it moan
+and wail, he minded it not, he only enjoyed it.  He merely snuggled
+the closer to his friend, in a luxury of warm contentment, and drifted
+blissfully out of consciousness into a deep and dreamless sleep that
+was full of serenity and peace.  The distant dogs howled, the melancholy
+kine complained, and the winds went on raging, whilst furious sheets
+of rain drove along the roof; but the Majesty of England slept on,
+undisturbed, and the calf did the same, it being a simple creature, and
+not easily troubled by storms or embarrassed by sleeping with a king.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. The Prince with the peasants.
+
+When the King awoke in the early morning, he found that a wet but
+thoughtful rat had crept into the place during the night and made a cosy
+bed for itself in his bosom.  Being disturbed now, it scampered away.
+The boy smiled, and said, “Poor fool, why so fearful?  I am as forlorn
+as thou.  ‘Twould be a sham in me to hurt the helpless, who am myself so
+helpless.  Moreover, I owe you thanks for a good omen; for when a king
+has fallen so low that the very rats do make a bed of him, it surely
+meaneth that his fortunes be upon the turn, since it is plain he can no
+lower go.”
+
+He got up and stepped out of the stall, and just then he heard the sound
+of children’s voices.  The barn door opened and a couple of little girls
+came in.  As soon as they saw him their talking and laughing ceased, and
+they stopped and stood still, gazing at him with strong curiosity; they
+presently began to whisper together, then they approached nearer, and
+stopped again to gaze and whisper.  By-and-by they gathered courage and
+began to discuss him aloud.  One said--
+
+“He hath a comely face.”
+
+The other added--
+
+“And pretty hair.”
+
+“But is ill clothed enow.”
+
+“And how starved he looketh.”
+
+They came still nearer, sidling shyly around and about him, examining
+him minutely from all points, as if he were some strange new kind of
+animal, but warily and watchfully the while, as if they half feared he
+might be a sort of animal that would bite, upon occasion.  Finally they
+halted before him, holding each other’s hands for protection, and took a
+good satisfying stare with their innocent eyes; then one of them plucked
+up all her courage and inquired with honest directness--
+
+“Who art thou, boy?”
+
+“I am the King,” was the grave answer.
+
+The children gave a little start, and their eyes spread themselves wide
+open and remained so during a speechless half minute.  Then curiosity
+broke the silence--
+
+“The _King_?  What King?”
+
+“The King of England.”
+
+The children looked at each other--then at him--then at each other
+again--wonderingly, perplexedly; then one said--
+
+“Didst hear him, Margery?--he said he is the King.  Can that be true?”
+
+“How can it be else but true, Prissy?  Would he say a lie?  For look
+you, Prissy, an’ it were not true, it _would_ be a lie.  It surely would
+be. Now think on’t.  For all things that be not true, be lies--thou
+canst make nought else out of it.”
+
+It was a good tight argument, without a leak in it anywhere; and it left
+Prissy’s half-doubts not a leg to stand on.  She considered a moment,
+then put the King upon his honour with the simple remark--
+
+“If thou art truly the King, then I believe thee.”
+
+“I am truly the King.”
+
+This settled the matter.  His Majesty’s royalty was accepted without
+further question or discussion, and the two little girls began at once
+to inquire into how he came to be where he was, and how he came to be so
+unroyally clad, and whither he was bound, and all about his affairs.  It
+was a mighty relief to him to pour out his troubles where they would not
+be scoffed at or doubted; so he told his tale with feeling, forgetting
+even his hunger for the time; and it was received with the deepest and
+tenderest sympathy by the gentle little maids.  But when he got down
+to his latest experiences and they learned how long he had been without
+food, they cut him short and hurried him away to the farmhouse to find a
+breakfast for him.
+
+The King was cheerful and happy now, and said to himself, “When I
+am come to mine own again, I will always honour little children,
+remembering how that these trusted me and believed in me in my time
+of trouble; whilst they that were older, and thought themselves wiser,
+mocked at me and held me for a liar.”
+
+The children’s mother received the King kindly, and was full of pity;
+for his forlorn condition and apparently crazed intellect touched her
+womanly heart.  She was a widow, and rather poor; consequently she had
+seen trouble enough to enable her to feel for the unfortunate.  She
+imagined that the demented boy had wandered away from his friends or
+keepers; so she tried to find out whence he had come, in order that
+she might take measures to return him; but all her references to
+neighbouring towns and villages, and all her inquiries in the same line
+went for nothing--the boy’s face, and his answers, too, showed that the
+things she was talking of were not familiar to him.  He spoke earnestly
+and simply about court matters, and broke down, more than once, when
+speaking of the late King ‘his father’; but whenever the conversation
+changed to baser topics, he lost interest and became silent.
+
+The woman was mightily puzzled; but she did not give up.  As she
+proceeded with her cooking, she set herself to contriving devices to
+surprise the boy into betraying his real secret.  She talked about
+cattle--he showed no concern; then about sheep--the same result:  so
+her guess that he had been a shepherd boy was an error; she talked about
+mills; and about weavers, tinkers, smiths, trades and tradesmen of all
+sorts; and about Bedlam, and jails, and charitable retreats:  but no
+matter, she was baffled at all points.  Not altogether, either; for she
+argued that she had narrowed the thing down to domestic service.  Yes,
+she was sure she was on the right track, now; he must have been a house
+servant.  So she led up to that.  But the result was discouraging. The
+subject of sweeping appeared to weary him; fire-building failed to stir
+him; scrubbing and scouring awoke no enthusiasm. The goodwife touched,
+with a perishing hope, and rather as a matter of form, upon the subject
+of cooking.  To her surprise, and her vast delight, the King’s face
+lighted at once!  Ah, she had hunted him down at last, she thought; and
+she was right proud, too, of the devious shrewdness and tact which had
+accomplished it.
+
+Her tired tongue got a chance to rest, now; for the King’s, inspired
+by gnawing hunger and the fragrant smells that came from the sputtering
+pots and pans, turned itself loose and delivered itself up to such an
+eloquent dissertation upon certain toothsome dishes, that within three
+minutes the woman said to herself, “Of a truth I was right--he hath
+holpen in a kitchen!”  Then he broadened his bill of fare, and discussed
+it with such appreciation and animation, that the goodwife said to
+herself, “Good lack! how can he know so many dishes, and so fine ones
+withal?  For these belong only upon the tables of the rich and great.
+ Ah, now I see! ragged outcast as he is, he must have served in the
+palace before his reason went astray; yes, he must have helped in the
+very kitchen of the King himself!  I will test him.”
+
+Full of eagerness to prove her sagacity, she told the King to mind the
+cooking a moment--hinting that he might manufacture and add a dish or
+two, if he chose; then she went out of the room and gave her children a
+sign to follow after.  The King muttered--
+
+“Another English king had a commission like to this, in a bygone
+time--it is nothing against my dignity to undertake an office which the
+great Alfred stooped to assume.  But I will try to better serve my trust
+than he; for he let the cakes burn.”
+
+The intent was good, but the performance was not answerable to it, for
+this King, like the other one, soon fell into deep thinkings concerning
+his vast affairs, and the same calamity resulted--the cookery got
+burned. The woman returned in time to save the breakfast from entire
+destruction; and she promptly brought the King out of his dreams with a
+brisk and cordial tongue-lashing. Then, seeing how troubled he was
+over his violated trust, she softened at once, and was all goodness and
+gentleness toward him.
+
+The boy made a hearty and satisfying meal, and was greatly refreshed and
+gladdened by it.  It was a meal which was distinguished by this curious
+feature, that rank was waived on both sides; yet neither recipient
+of the favour was aware that it had been extended.  The goodwife had
+intended to feed this young tramp with broken victuals in a corner,
+like any other tramp or like a dog; but she was so remorseful for the
+scolding she had given him, that she did what she could to atone for it
+by allowing him to sit at the family table and eat with his betters, on
+ostensible terms of equality with them; and the King, on his side, was
+so remorseful for having broken his trust, after the family had been so
+kind to him, that he forced himself to atone for it by humbling himself
+to the family level, instead of requiring the woman and her children to
+stand and wait upon him, while he occupied their table in the solitary
+state due to his birth and dignity.  It does us all good to unbend
+sometimes.  This good woman was made happy all the day long by the
+applauses which she got out of herself for her magnanimous condescension
+to a tramp; and the King was just as self-complacent over his gracious
+humility toward a humble peasant woman.
+
+When breakfast was over, the housewife told the King to wash up the
+dishes.  This command was a staggerer, for a moment, and the King came
+near rebelling; but then he said to himself, “Alfred the Great watched
+the cakes; doubtless he would have washed the dishes too--therefore will
+I essay it.”
+
+He made a sufficiently poor job of it; and to his surprise too, for the
+cleaning of wooden spoons and trenchers had seemed an easy thing to do.
+It was a tedious and troublesome piece of work, but he finished it
+at last.  He was becoming impatient to get away on his journey now;
+however, he was not to lose this thrifty dame’s society so easily.  She
+furnished him some little odds and ends of employment, which he got
+through with after a fair fashion and with some credit.  Then she set
+him and the little girls to paring some winter apples; but he was so
+awkward at this service that she retired him from it and gave him a
+butcher knife to grind.
+
+Afterwards she kept him carding wool until he began to think he had laid
+the good King Alfred about far enough in the shade for the present in
+the matter of showy menial heroisms that would read picturesquely in
+story-books and histories, and so he was half-minded to resign.  And
+when, just after the noonday dinner, the goodwife gave him a basket
+of kittens to drown, he did resign.  At least he was just going to
+resign--for he felt that he must draw the line somewhere, and it
+seemed to him that to draw it at kitten-drowning was about the right
+thing--when there was an interruption.  The interruption was John
+Canty--with a peddler’s pack on his back--and Hugo.
+
+The King discovered these rascals approaching the front gate before they
+had had a chance to see him; so he said nothing about drawing the line,
+but took up his basket of kittens and stepped quietly out the back way,
+without a word.  He left the creatures in an out-house, and hurried on,
+into a narrow lane at the rear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. The Prince and the hermit.
+
+The high hedge hid him from the house, now; and so, under the impulse of
+a deadly fright, he let out all his forces and sped toward a wood in the
+distance.  He never looked back until he had almost gained the shelter
+of the forest; then he turned and descried two figures in the distance.
+That was sufficient; he did not wait to scan them critically, but
+hurried on, and never abated his pace till he was far within the
+twilight depths of the wood. Then he stopped; being persuaded that he
+was now tolerably safe. He listened intently, but the stillness was
+profound and solemn--awful, even, and depressing to the spirits.  At
+wide intervals his straining ear did detect sounds, but they were so
+remote, and hollow, and mysterious, that they seemed not to be real
+sounds, but only the moaning and complaining ghosts of departed
+ones.  So the sounds were yet more dreary than the silence which they
+interrupted.
+
+It was his purpose, in the beginning, to stay where he was the rest of
+the day; but a chill soon invaded his perspiring body, and he was at
+last obliged to resume movement in order to get warm. He struck straight
+through the forest, hoping to pierce to a road presently, but he was
+disappointed in this.  He travelled on and on; but the farther he went,
+the denser the wood became, apparently.  The gloom began to thicken,
+by-and-by, and the King realised that the night was coming on.  It made
+him shudder to think of spending it in such an uncanny place; so he
+tried to hurry faster, but he only made the less speed, for he could
+not now see well enough to choose his steps judiciously; consequently he
+kept tripping over roots and tangling himself in vines and briers.
+
+And how glad he was when at last he caught the glimmer of a light! He
+approached it warily, stopping often to look about him and listen.  It
+came from an unglazed window-opening in a shabby little hut.  He heard
+a voice, now, and felt a disposition to run and hide; but he changed his
+mind at once, for this voice was praying, evidently.  He glided to the
+one window of the hut, raised himself on tiptoe, and stole a glance
+within.  The room was small; its floor was the natural earth, beaten
+hard by use; in a corner was a bed of rushes and a ragged blanket or
+two; near it was a pail, a cup, a basin, and two or three pots and pans;
+there was a short bench and a three-legged stool; on the hearth the
+remains of a faggot fire were smouldering; before a shrine, which was
+lighted by a single candle, knelt an aged man, and on an old wooden box
+at his side lay an open book and a human skull.  The man was of large,
+bony frame; his hair and whiskers were very long and snowy white; he
+was clothed in a robe of sheepskins which reached from his neck to his
+heels.
+
+“A holy hermit!” said the King to himself; “now am I indeed fortunate.”
+
+The hermit rose from his knees; the King knocked.  A deep voice
+responded--
+
+“Enter!--but leave sin behind, for the ground whereon thou shalt stand
+is holy!”
+
+The King entered, and paused.  The hermit turned a pair of gleaming,
+unrestful eyes upon him, and said--
+
+“Who art thou?”
+
+“I am the King,” came the answer, with placid simplicity.
+
+“Welcome, King!” cried the hermit, with enthusiasm.  Then, bustling
+about with feverish activity, and constantly saying, “Welcome, welcome,”
+ he arranged his bench, seated the King on it, by the hearth, threw some
+faggots on the fire, and finally fell to pacing the floor with a nervous
+stride.
+
+“Welcome!  Many have sought sanctuary here, but they were not worthy,
+and were turned away.  But a King who casts his crown away, and despises
+the vain splendours of his office, and clothes his body in rags, to
+devote his life to holiness and the mortification of the flesh--he is
+worthy, he is welcome!--here shall he abide all his days till death
+come.”  The King hastened to interrupt and explain, but the hermit paid
+no attention to him--did not even hear him, apparently, but went right
+on with his talk, with a raised voice and a growing energy.  “And thou
+shalt be at peace here.  None shall find out thy refuge to disquiet thee
+with supplications to return to that empty and foolish life which God
+hath moved thee to abandon.  Thou shalt pray here; thou shalt study the
+Book; thou shalt meditate upon the follies and delusions of this world,
+and upon the sublimities of the world to come; thou shalt feed upon
+crusts and herbs, and scourge thy body with whips, daily, to the
+purifying of thy soul. Thou shalt wear a hair shirt next thy skin;
+thou shalt drink water only; and thou shalt be at peace; yes, wholly at
+peace; for whoso comes to seek thee shall go his way again, baffled; he
+shall not find thee, he shall not molest thee.”
+
+The old man, still pacing back and forth, ceased to speak aloud, and
+began to mutter.  The King seized this opportunity to state his case;
+and he did it with an eloquence inspired by uneasiness and apprehension.
+ But the hermit went on muttering, and gave no heed.  And still
+muttering, he approached the King and said impressively--
+
+“‘Sh!  I will tell you a secret!”  He bent down to impart it, but
+checked himself, and assumed a listening attitude.  After a moment
+or two he went on tiptoe to the window-opening, put his head out, and
+peered around in the gloaming, then came tiptoeing back again, put his
+face close down to the King’s, and whispered--
+
+“I am an archangel!”
+
+The King started violently, and said to himself, “Would God I were with
+the outlaws again; for lo, now am I the prisoner of a madman!”  His
+apprehensions were heightened, and they showed plainly in his face.  In
+a low excited voice the hermit continued--
+
+“I see you feel my atmosphere!  There’s awe in your face!  None may
+be in this atmosphere and not be thus affected; for it is the very
+atmosphere of heaven.  I go thither and return, in the twinkling of an
+eye.  I was made an archangel on this very spot, it is five years ago,
+by angels sent from heaven to confer that awful dignity.  Their presence
+filled this place with an intolerable brightness.  And they knelt to me,
+King! yes, they knelt to me! for I was greater than they.  I have walked
+in the courts of heaven, and held speech with the patriarchs.  Touch
+my hand--be not afraid--touch it.  There--now thou hast touched a hand
+which has been clasped by Abraham and Isaac and Jacob!  For I have
+walked in the golden courts; I have seen the Deity face to face!”  He
+paused, to give this speech effect; then his face suddenly changed, and
+he started to his feet again saying, with angry energy, “Yes, I am an
+archangel; _a mere archangel!_--I that might have been pope!  It is
+verily true.  I was told it from heaven in a dream, twenty years ago;
+ah, yes, I was to be pope!--and I _should_ have been pope, for Heaven
+had said it--but the King dissolved my religious house, and I, poor
+obscure unfriended monk, was cast homeless upon the world, robbed of my
+mighty destiny!” Here he began to mumble again, and beat his forehead in
+futile rage, with his fist; now and then articulating a venomous curse,
+and now and then a pathetic “Wherefore I am nought but an archangel--I
+that should have been pope!”
+
+So he went on, for an hour, whilst the poor little King sat and
+suffered. Then all at once the old man’s frenzy departed, and he became
+all gentleness.  His voice softened, he came down out of his clouds, and
+fell to prattling along so simply and so humanly, that he soon won the
+King’s heart completely.  The old devotee moved the boy nearer to the
+fire and made him comfortable; doctored his small bruises and abrasions
+with a deft and tender hand; and then set about preparing and cooking a
+supper--chatting pleasantly all the time, and occasionally stroking the
+lad’s cheek or patting his head, in such a gently caressing way that in
+a little while all the fear and repulsion inspired by the archangel were
+changed to reverence and affection for the man.
+
+This happy state of things continued while the two ate the supper; then,
+after a prayer before the shrine, the hermit put the boy to bed, in a
+small adjoining room, tucking him in as snugly and lovingly as a mother
+might; and so, with a parting caress, left him and sat down by the
+fire, and began to poke the brands about in an absent and aimless way.
+Presently he paused; then tapped his forehead several times with his
+fingers, as if trying to recall some thought which had escaped from his
+mind.  Apparently he was unsuccessful.  Now he started quickly up, and
+entered his guest’s room, and said--
+
+“Thou art King?”
+
+“Yes,” was the response, drowsily uttered.
+
+“What King?”
+
+“Of England.”
+
+“Of England?  Then Henry is gone!”
+
+“Alack, it is so.  I am his son.”
+
+A black frown settled down upon the hermit’s face, and he clenched his
+bony hands with a vindictive energy.  He stood a few moments, breathing
+fast and swallowing repeatedly, then said in a husky voice--
+
+“Dost know it was he that turned us out into the world houseless and
+homeless?”
+
+There was no response.  The old man bent down and scanned the boy’s
+reposeful face and listened to his placid breathing.  “He sleeps--sleeps
+soundly;” and the frown vanished away and gave place to an expression of
+evil satisfaction.  A smile flitted across the dreaming boy’s features.
+The hermit muttered, “So--his heart is happy;” and he turned away.  He
+went stealthily about the place, seeking here and there for something;
+now and then halting to listen, now and then jerking his head around
+and casting a quick glance toward the bed; and always muttering, always
+mumbling to himself.  At last he found what he seemed to want--a rusty
+old butcher knife and a whetstone.  Then he crept to his place by the
+fire, sat himself down, and began to whet the knife softly on the stone,
+still muttering, mumbling, ejaculating.  The winds sighed around the
+lonely place, the mysterious voices of the night floated by out of the
+distances.  The shining eyes of venturesome mice and rats peered out at
+the old man from cracks and coverts, but he went on with his work, rapt,
+absorbed, and noted none of these things.
+
+At long intervals he drew his thumb along the edge of his knife, and
+nodded his head with satisfaction.  “It grows sharper,” he said; “yes,
+it grows sharper.”
+
+He took no note of the flight of time, but worked tranquilly on,
+entertaining himself with his thoughts, which broke out occasionally in
+articulate speech--
+
+“His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us--and is gone down into the
+eternal fires!  Yes, down into the eternal fires!  He escaped us--but it
+was God’s will, yes it was God’s will, we must not repine.  But he
+hath not escaped the fires!  No, he hath not escaped the fires, the
+consuming, unpitying, remorseless fires--and _they_ are everlasting!”
+
+And so he wrought, and still wrought--mumbling, chuckling a low rasping
+chuckle at times--and at times breaking again into words--
+
+“It was his father that did it all.  I am but an archangel; but for him
+I should be pope!”
+
+The King stirred.  The hermit sprang noiselessly to the bedside, and
+went down upon his knees, bending over the prostrate form with his knife
+uplifted.  The boy stirred again; his eyes came open for an instant, but
+there was no speculation in them, they saw nothing; the next moment his
+tranquil breathing showed that his sleep was sound once more.
+
+The hermit watched and listened, for a time, keeping his position and
+scarcely breathing; then he slowly lowered his arms, and presently crept
+away, saying,--
+
+“It is long past midnight; it is not best that he should cry out, lest
+by accident someone be passing.”
+
+He glided about his hovel, gathering a rag here, a thong there, and
+another one yonder; then he returned, and by careful and gentle handling
+he managed to tie the King’s ankles together without waking him.  Next
+he essayed to tie the wrists; he made several attempts to cross them,
+but the boy always drew one hand or the other away, just as the cord was
+ready to be applied; but at last, when the archangel was almost ready
+to despair, the boy crossed his hands himself, and the next moment
+they were bound. Now a bandage was passed under the sleeper’s chin and
+brought up over his head and tied fast--and so softly, so gradually,
+and so deftly were the knots drawn together and compacted, that the boy
+slept peacefully through it all without stirring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. Hendon to the rescue.
+
+The old man glided away, stooping, stealthy, cat-like, and brought the
+low bench.  He seated himself upon it, half his body in the dim and
+flickering light, and the other half in shadow; and so, with his craving
+eyes bent upon the slumbering boy, he kept his patient vigil there,
+heedless of the drift of time, and softly whetted his knife, and mumbled
+and chuckled; and in aspect and attitude he resembled nothing so much as
+a grizzly, monstrous spider, gloating over some hapless insect that lay
+bound and helpless in his web.
+
+After a long while, the old man, who was still gazing,--yet not seeing,
+his mind having settled into a dreamy abstraction,--observed, on a
+sudden, that the boy’s eyes were open! wide open and staring!--staring
+up in frozen horror at the knife.  The smile of a gratified devil crept
+over the old man’s face, and he said, without changing his attitude or
+his occupation--
+
+“Son of Henry the Eighth, hast thou prayed?”
+
+The boy struggled helplessly in his bonds, and at the same time forced
+a smothered sound through his closed jaws, which the hermit chose to
+interpret as an affirmative answer to his question.
+
+“Then pray again.  Pray the prayer for the dying!”
+
+A shudder shook the boy’s frame, and his face blenched.  Then he
+struggled again to free himself--turning and twisting himself this way
+and that; tugging frantically, fiercely, desperately--but uselessly--to
+burst his fetters; and all the while the old ogre smiled down upon him,
+and nodded his head, and placidly whetted his knife; mumbling, from time
+to time, “The moments are precious, they are few and precious--pray the
+prayer for the dying!”
+
+The boy uttered a despairing groan, and ceased from his struggles,
+panting.  The tears came, then, and trickled, one after the other, down
+his face; but this piteous sight wrought no softening effect upon the
+savage old man.
+
+The dawn was coming now; the hermit observed it, and spoke up sharply,
+with a touch of nervous apprehension in his voice--
+
+“I may not indulge this ecstasy longer!  The night is already gone.  It
+seems but a moment--only a moment; would it had endured a year!  Seed of
+the Church’s spoiler, close thy perishing eyes, an’ thou fearest to look
+upon--”
+
+The rest was lost in inarticulate mutterings.  The old man sank upon his
+knees, his knife in his hand, and bent himself over the moaning boy.
+
+Hark!  There was a sound of voices near the cabin--the knife dropped
+from the hermit’s hand; he cast a sheepskin over the boy and started up,
+trembling.  The sounds increased, and presently the voices became rough
+and angry; then came blows, and cries for help; then a clatter of swift
+footsteps, retreating.  Immediately came a succession of thundering
+knocks upon the cabin door, followed by--
+
+“Hullo-o-o!  Open!  And despatch, in the name of all the devils!”
+
+Oh, this was the blessedest sound that had ever made music in the King’s
+ears; for it was Miles Hendon’s voice!
+
+The hermit, grinding his teeth in impotent rage, moved swiftly out of
+the bedchamber, closing the door behind him; and straightway the King
+heard a talk, to this effect, proceeding from the ‘chapel’:--
+
+“Homage and greeting, reverend sir!  Where is the boy--_my_ boy?”
+
+“What boy, friend?”
+
+“What boy!  Lie me no lies, sir priest, play me no deceptions!--I am not
+in the humour for it.  Near to this place I caught the scoundrels who I
+judged did steal him from me, and I made them confess; they said he was
+at large again, and they had tracked him to your door.  They showed me
+his very footprints.  Now palter no more; for look you, holy sir, an’
+thou produce him not--Where is the boy?”
+
+“O good sir, peradventure you mean the ragged regal vagrant that tarried
+here the night.  If such as you take an interest in such as he, know,
+then, that I have sent him of an errand.  He will be back anon.”
+
+“How soon?  How soon?  Come, waste not the time--cannot I overtake him?
+How soon will he be back?”
+
+“Thou need’st not stir; he will return quickly.”
+
+“So be it, then.  I will try to wait.  But stop!--_you_ sent him of an
+errand?--you!  Verily this is a lie--he would not go.  He would pull thy
+old beard, an’ thou didst offer him such an insolence. Thou hast lied,
+friend; thou hast surely lied!  He would not go for thee, nor for any
+man.”
+
+“For any _man_--no; haply not.  But I am not a man.”
+
+“_What_!  Now o’ God’s name what art thou, then?”
+
+“It is a secret--mark thou reveal it not.  I am an archangel!”
+
+There was a tremendous ejaculation from Miles Hendon--not altogether
+unprofane--followed by--
+
+“This doth well and truly account for his complaisance!  Right well
+I knew he would budge nor hand nor foot in the menial service of any
+mortal; but, lord, even a king must obey when an archangel gives the
+word o’ command!  Let me--‘sh!  What noise was that?”
+
+All this while the little King had been yonder, alternately quaking with
+terror and trembling with hope; and all the while, too, he had thrown
+all the strength he could into his anguished moanings, constantly
+expecting them to reach Hendon’s ear, but always realising, with
+bitterness, that they failed, or at least made no impression.  So this
+last remark of his servant came as comes a reviving breath from fresh
+fields to the dying; and he exerted himself once more, and with all his
+energy, just as the hermit was saying--
+
+“Noise?  I heard only the wind.”
+
+“Mayhap it was.  Yes, doubtless that was it.  I have been hearing it
+faintly all the--there it is again!  It is not the wind!  What an odd
+sound!  Come, we will hunt it out!”
+
+Now the King’s joy was nearly insupportable.  His tired lungs did
+their utmost--and hopefully, too--but the sealed jaws and the muffling
+sheepskin sadly crippled the effort.  Then the poor fellow’s heart sank,
+to hear the hermit say--
+
+“Ah, it came from without--I think from the copse yonder.  Come, I will
+lead the way.”
+
+The King heard the two pass out, talking; heard their footsteps die
+quickly away--then he was alone with a boding, brooding, awful silence.
+
+It seemed an age till he heard the steps and voices approaching
+again--and this time he heard an added sound,--the trampling of hoofs,
+apparently.  Then he heard Hendon say--
+
+“I will not wait longer.  I _cannot_ wait longer.  He has lost his way
+in this thick wood.  Which direction took he?  Quick--point it out to
+me.”
+
+“He--but wait; I will go with thee.”
+
+“Good--good!  Why, truly thou art better than thy looks.  Marry I do
+not think there’s not another archangel with so right a heart as thine.
+ Wilt ride?  Wilt take the wee donkey that’s for my boy, or wilt thou
+fork thy holy legs over this ill-conditioned slave of a mule that I have
+provided for myself?--and had been cheated in too, had he cost but the
+indifferent sum of a month’s usury on a brass farthing let to a tinker
+out of work.”
+
+“No--ride thy mule, and lead thine ass; I am surer on mine own feet, and
+will walk.”
+
+“Then prithee mind the little beast for me while I take my life in my
+hands and make what success I may toward mounting the big one.”
+
+Then followed a confusion of kicks, cuffs, tramplings and plungings,
+accompanied by a thunderous intermingling of volleyed curses, and
+finally a bitter apostrophe to the mule, which must have broken its
+spirit, for hostilities seemed to cease from that moment.
+
+With unutterable misery the fettered little King heard the voices and
+footsteps fade away and die out.  All hope forsook him, now, for the
+moment, and a dull despair settled down upon his heart. “My only friend
+is deceived and got rid of,” he said; “the hermit will return and--”  He
+finished with a gasp; and at once fell to struggling so frantically with
+his bonds again, that he shook off the smothering sheepskin.
+
+And now he heard the door open!  The sound chilled him to the
+marrow--already he seemed to feel the knife at his throat.  Horror made
+him close his eyes; horror made him open them again--and before him
+stood John Canty and Hugo!
+
+He would have said “Thank God!” if his jaws had been free.
+
+A moment or two later his limbs were at liberty, and his captors, each
+gripping him by an arm, were hurrying him with all speed through the
+forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. A Victim of Treachery.
+
+Once more ‘King Foo-foo the First’ was roving with the tramps and
+outlaws, a butt for their coarse jests and dull-witted railleries, and
+sometimes the victim of small spitefulness at the hands of Canty and
+Hugo when the Ruffler’s back was turned.  None but Canty and Hugo really
+disliked him.  Some of the others liked him, and all admired his pluck
+and spirit.  During two or three days, Hugo, in whose ward and charge
+the King was, did what he covertly could to make the boy uncomfortable;
+and at night, during the customary orgies, he amused the company by
+putting small indignities upon him--always as if by accident.  Twice he
+stepped upon the King’s toes--accidentally--and the King, as became his
+royalty, was contemptuously unconscious of it and indifferent to it; but
+the third time Hugo entertained himself in that way, the King felled
+him to the ground with a cudgel, to the prodigious delight of the tribe.
+ Hugo, consumed with anger and shame, sprang up, seized a cudgel, and
+came at his small adversary in a fury.  Instantly a ring was formed
+around the gladiators, and the betting and cheering began.
+
+But poor Hugo stood no chance whatever.  His frantic and lubberly
+‘prentice-work found but a poor market for itself when pitted against
+an arm which had been trained by the first masters of Europe in
+single-stick, quarter-staff, and every art and trick of swordsmanship.
+ The little King stood, alert but at graceful ease, and caught and
+turned aside the thick rain of blows with a facility and precision which
+set the motley on-lookers wild with admiration; and every now and then,
+when his practised eye detected an opening, and a lightning-swift rap
+upon Hugo’s head followed as a result, the storm of cheers and laughter
+that swept the place was something wonderful to hear.  At the end of
+fifteen minutes, Hugo, all battered, bruised, and the target for
+a pitiless bombardment of ridicule, slunk from the field; and the
+unscathed hero of the fight was seized and borne aloft upon the
+shoulders of the joyous rabble to the place of honour beside the
+Ruffler, where with vast ceremony he was crowned King of the Game-Cocks;
+his meaner title being at the same time solemnly cancelled and annulled,
+and a decree of banishment from the gang pronounced against any who
+should thenceforth utter it.
+
+All attempts to make the King serviceable to the troop had failed. He
+had stubbornly refused to act; moreover, he was always trying to escape.
+ He had been thrust into an unwatched kitchen, the first day of his
+return; he not only came forth empty-handed, but tried to rouse the
+housemates. He was sent out with a tinker to help him at his work;
+he would not work; moreover, he threatened the tinker with his own
+soldering-iron; and finally both Hugo and the tinker found their
+hands full with the mere matter of keeping his from getting away.  He
+delivered the thunders of his royalty upon the heads of all who hampered
+his liberties or tried to force him to service.  He was sent out, in
+Hugo’s charge, in company with a slatternly woman and a diseased baby,
+to beg; but the result was not encouraging--he declined to plead for the
+mendicants, or be a party to their cause in any way.
+
+Thus several days went by; and the miseries of this tramping life, and
+the weariness and sordidness and meanness and vulgarity of it, became
+gradually and steadily so intolerable to the captive that he began at
+last to feel that his release from the hermit’s knife must prove only a
+temporary respite from death, at best.
+
+But at night, in his dreams, these things were forgotten, and he was
+on his throne, and master again.  This, of course, intensified the
+sufferings of the awakening--so the mortifications of each succeeding
+morning of the few that passed between his return to bondage and the
+combat with Hugo, grew bitterer and bitterer, and harder and harder to
+bear.
+
+The morning after that combat, Hugo got up with a heart filled with
+vengeful purposes against the King.  He had two plans, in particular.
+One was to inflict upon the lad what would be, to his proud spirit
+and ‘imagined’ royalty, a peculiar humiliation; and if he failed to
+accomplish this, his other plan was to put a crime of some kind upon the
+King, and then betray him into the implacable clutches of the law.
+
+In pursuance of the first plan, he purposed to put a ‘clime’ upon the
+King’s leg; rightly judging that that would mortify him to the last and
+perfect degree; and as soon as the clime should operate, he meant to get
+Canty’s help, and _force_ the King to expose his leg in the highway
+and beg for alms.  ‘Clime’ was the cant term for a sore, artificially
+created. To make a clime, the operator made a paste or poultice of
+unslaked lime, soap, and the rust of old iron, and spread it upon a
+piece of leather, which was then bound tightly upon the leg.  This would
+presently fret off the skin, and make the flesh raw and angry-looking;
+blood was then rubbed upon the limb, which, being fully dried, took on a
+dark and repulsive colour.  Then a bandage of soiled rags was put on in
+a cleverly careless way which would allow the hideous ulcer to be seen,
+and move the compassion of the passer-by. {8}
+
+Hugo got the help of the tinker whom the King had cowed with the
+soldering-iron; they took the boy out on a tinkering tramp, and as soon
+as they were out of sight of the camp they threw him down and the tinker
+held him while Hugo bound the poultice tight and fast upon his leg.
+
+The King raged and stormed, and promised to hang the two the moment the
+sceptre was in his hand again; but they kept a firm grip upon him
+and enjoyed his impotent struggling and jeered at his threats.  This
+continued until the poultice began to bite; and in no long time its work
+would have been perfected, if there had been no interruption.  But there
+was; for about this time the ‘slave’ who had made the speech denouncing
+England’s laws, appeared on the scene, and put an end to the enterprise,
+and stripped off the poultice and bandage.
+
+The King wanted to borrow his deliverer’s cudgel and warm the jackets
+of the two rascals on the spot; but the man said no, it would bring
+trouble--leave the matter till night; the whole tribe being together,
+then, the outside world would not venture to interfere or interrupt.  He
+marched the party back to camp and reported the affair to the Ruffler,
+who listened, pondered, and then decided that the King should not be
+again detailed to beg, since it was plain he was worthy of something
+higher and better--wherefore, on the spot he promoted him from the
+mendicant rank and appointed him to steal!
+
+Hugo was overjoyed.  He had already tried to make the King steal, and
+failed; but there would be no more trouble of that sort, now, for of
+course the King would not dream of defying a distinct command delivered
+directly from head-quarters.  So he planned a raid for that very
+afternoon, purposing to get the King in the law’s grip in the course of
+it; and to do it, too, with such ingenious strategy, that it should seem
+to be accidental and unintentional; for the King of the Game-Cocks was
+popular now, and the gang might not deal over-gently with an unpopular
+member who played so serious a treachery upon him as the delivering him
+over to the common enemy, the law.
+
+Very well.  All in good time Hugo strolled off to a neighbouring village
+with his prey; and the two drifted slowly up and down one street after
+another, the one watching sharply for a sure chance to achieve his evil
+purpose, and the other watching as sharply for a chance to dart away and
+get free of his infamous captivity for ever.
+
+Both threw away some tolerably fair-looking opportunities; for both,
+in their secret hearts, were resolved to make absolutely sure work this
+time, and neither meant to allow his fevered desires to seduce him into
+any venture that had much uncertainty about it.
+
+Hugo’s chance came first.  For at last a woman approached who carried a
+fat package of some sort in a basket.  Hugo’s eyes sparkled with sinful
+pleasure as he said to himself, “Breath o’ my life, an’ I can but
+put _that_ upon him, ’tis good-den and God keep thee, King of the
+Game-Cocks!” He waited and watched--outwardly patient, but inwardly
+consuming with excitement--till the woman had passed by, and the time
+was ripe; then said, in a low voice--
+
+“Tarry here till I come again,” and darted stealthily after the prey.
+
+The King’s heart was filled with joy--he could make his escape, now, if
+Hugo’s quest only carried him far enough away.
+
+But he was to have no such luck.  Hugo crept behind the woman, snatched
+the package, and came running back, wrapping it in an old piece of
+blanket which he carried on his arm.  The hue and cry was raised in a
+moment, by the woman, who knew her loss by the lightening of her burden,
+although she had not seen the pilfering done.  Hugo thrust the bundle
+into the King’s hands without halting, saying--
+
+“Now speed ye after me with the rest, and cry ‘Stop thief!’ but mind ye
+lead them astray!”
+
+The next moment Hugo turned a corner and darted down a crooked
+alley--and in another moment or two he lounged into view again, looking
+innocent and indifferent, and took up a position behind a post to watch
+results.
+
+The insulted King threw the bundle on the ground; and the blanket fell
+away from it just as the woman arrived, with an augmenting crowd at her
+heels; she seized the King’s wrist with one hand, snatched up her bundle
+with the other, and began to pour out a tirade of abuse upon the boy
+while he struggled, without success, to free himself from her grip.
+
+Hugo had seen enough--his enemy was captured and the law would get him,
+now--so he slipped away, jubilant and chuckling, and wended campwards,
+framing a judicious version of the matter to give to the Ruffler’s crew
+as he strode along.
+
+The King continued to struggle in the woman’s strong grasp, and now and
+then cried out in vexation--
+
+“Unhand me, thou foolish creature; it was not I that bereaved thee of
+thy paltry goods.”
+
+The crowd closed around, threatening the King and calling him names; a
+brawny blacksmith in leather apron, and sleeves rolled to his elbows,
+made a reach for him, saying he would trounce him well, for a lesson;
+but just then a long sword flashed in the air and fell with convincing
+force upon the man’s arm, flat side down, the fantastic owner of it
+remarking pleasantly, at the same time--
+
+“Marry, good souls, let us proceed gently, not with ill blood and
+uncharitable words.  This is matter for the law’s consideration,
+not private and unofficial handling.  Loose thy hold from the boy,
+goodwife.”
+
+The blacksmith averaged the stalwart soldier with a glance, then went
+muttering away, rubbing his arm; the woman released the boy’s wrist
+reluctantly; the crowd eyed the stranger unlovingly, but prudently
+closed their mouths.  The King sprang to his deliverer’s side, with
+flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, exclaiming--
+
+“Thou hast lagged sorely, but thou comest in good season, now, Sir
+Miles; carve me this rabble to rags!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. The Prince a prisoner.
+
+Hendon forced back a smile, and bent down and whispered in the King’s
+ear--
+
+“Softly, softly, my prince, wag thy tongue warily--nay, suffer it not to
+wag at all.  Trust in me--all shall go well in the end.” Then he added
+to himself:  “_Sir_ Miles!  Bless me, I had totally forgot I was a
+knight! Lord, how marvellous a thing it is, the grip his memory doth
+take upon his quaint and crazy fancies! . . . An empty and foolish title
+is mine, and yet it is something to have deserved it; for I think it is
+more honour to be held worthy to be a spectre-knight in his Kingdom of
+Dreams and Shadows, than to be held base enough to be an earl in some of
+the _real_ kingdoms of this world.”
+
+The crowd fell apart to admit a constable, who approached and was about
+to lay his hand upon the King’s shoulder, when Hendon said--
+
+“Gently, good friend, withhold your hand--he shall go peaceably; I am
+responsible for that.  Lead on, we will follow.”
+
+The officer led, with the woman and her bundle; Miles and the King
+followed after, with the crowd at their heels.  The King was inclined to
+rebel; but Hendon said to him in a low voice--
+
+“Reflect, Sire--your laws are the wholesome breath of your own royalty;
+shall their source resist them, yet require the branches to respect
+them? Apparently one of these laws has been broken; when the King is on
+his throne again, can it ever grieve him to remember that when he was
+seemingly a private person he loyally sank the king in the citizen and
+submitted to its authority?”
+
+“Thou art right; say no more; thou shalt see that whatsoever the King
+of England requires a subject to suffer, under the law, he will himself
+suffer while he holdeth the station of a subject.”
+
+When the woman was called upon to testify before the justice of the
+peace, she swore that the small prisoner at the bar was the person who
+had committed the theft; there was none able to show the contrary, so
+the King stood convicted.  The bundle was now unrolled, and when the
+contents proved to be a plump little dressed pig, the judge looked
+troubled, whilst Hendon turned pale, and his body was thrilled with an
+electric shiver of dismay; but the King remained unmoved, protected
+by his ignorance.  The judge meditated, during an ominous pause, then
+turned to the woman, with the question--
+
+“What dost thou hold this property to be worth?”
+
+The woman courtesied and replied--
+
+“Three shillings and eightpence, your worship--I could not abate a penny
+and set forth the value honestly.”
+
+The justice glanced around uncomfortably upon the crowd, then nodded to
+the constable, and said--
+
+“Clear the court and close the doors.”
+
+It was done.  None remained but the two officials, the accused, the
+accuser, and Miles Hendon.  This latter was rigid and colourless, and
+on his forehead big drops of cold sweat gathered, broke and blended
+together, and trickled down his face.  The judge turned to the woman
+again, and said, in a compassionate voice--
+
+“‘Tis a poor ignorant lad, and mayhap was driven hard by hunger, for
+these be grievous times for the unfortunate; mark you, he hath not an
+evil face--but when hunger driveth--Good woman! dost know that when one
+steals a thing above the value of thirteenpence ha’penny the law saith
+he shall _hang_ for it?”
+
+The little King started, wide-eyed with consternation, but controlled
+himself and held his peace; but not so the woman.  She sprang to her
+feet, shaking with fright, and cried out--
+
+“Oh, good lack, what have I done!  God-a-mercy, I would not hang
+the poor thing for the whole world!  Ah, save me from this, your
+worship--what shall I do, what _can_ I do?”
+
+The justice maintained his judicial composure, and simply said--
+
+“Doubtless it is allowable to revise the value, since it is not yet writ
+upon the record.”
+
+“Then in God’s name call the pig eightpence, and heaven bless the day
+that freed my conscience of this awesome thing!”
+
+Miles Hendon forgot all decorum in his delight; and surprised the King
+and wounded his dignity, by throwing his arms around him and hugging
+him. The woman made her grateful adieux and started away with her pig;
+and when the constable opened the door for her, he followed her out into
+the narrow hall.  The justice proceeded to write in his record book.
+ Hendon, always alert, thought he would like to know why the officer
+followed the woman out; so he slipped softly into the dusky hall and
+listened.  He heard a conversation to this effect--
+
+“It is a fat pig, and promises good eating; I will buy it of thee; here
+is the eightpence.”
+
+“Eightpence, indeed!  Thou’lt do no such thing.  It cost me three
+shillings and eightpence, good honest coin of the last reign, that old
+Harry that’s just dead ne’er touched or tampered with.  A fig for thy
+eightpence!”
+
+“Stands the wind in that quarter?  Thou wast under oath, and so swore
+falsely when thou saidst the value was but eightpence.  Come straightway
+back with me before his worship, and answer for the crime!--and then the
+lad will hang.”
+
+“There, there, dear heart, say no more, I am content.  Give me the
+eightpence, and hold thy peace about the matter.”
+
+The woman went off crying:  Hendon slipped back into the court room,
+and the constable presently followed, after hiding his prize in some
+convenient place.  The justice wrote a while longer, then read the King
+a wise and kindly lecture, and sentenced him to a short imprisonment
+in the common jail, to be followed by a public flogging.  The astounded
+King opened his mouth, and was probably going to order the good judge to
+be beheaded on the spot; but he caught a warning sign from Hendon, and
+succeeded in closing his mouth again before he lost anything out of it.
+Hendon took him by the hand, now, made reverence to the justice, and the
+two departed in the wake of the constable toward the jail.  The moment
+the street was reached, the inflamed monarch halted, snatched away his
+hand, and exclaimed--
+
+“Idiot, dost imagine I will enter a common jail _alive_?”
+
+Hendon bent down and said, somewhat sharply--
+
+“_Will_ you trust in me?  Peace! and forbear to worsen our chances with
+dangerous speech.  What God wills, will happen; thou canst not hurry it,
+thou canst not alter it; therefore wait, and be patient--‘twill be time
+enow to rail or rejoice when what is to happen has happened.” {1}
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. The Escape.
+
+The short winter day was nearly ended.  The streets were deserted, save
+for a few random stragglers, and these hurried straight along, with the
+intent look of people who were only anxious to accomplish their errands
+as quickly as possible, and then snugly house themselves from the rising
+wind and the gathering twilight. They looked neither to the right nor to
+the left; they paid no attention to our party, they did not even seem
+to see them. Edward the Sixth wondered if the spectacle of a king on his
+way to jail had ever encountered such marvellous indifference before.
+By-and-by the constable arrived at a deserted market-square, and
+proceeded to cross it.  When he had reached the middle of it, Hendon
+laid his hand upon his arm, and said in a low voice--
+
+“Bide a moment, good sir, there is none in hearing, and I would say a
+word to thee.”
+
+“My duty forbids it, sir; prithee hinder me not, the night comes on.”
+
+“Stay, nevertheless, for the matter concerns thee nearly.  Turn thy back
+a moment and seem not to see:  _let this poor lad escape_.”
+
+“This to me, sir!  I arrest thee in--”
+
+“Nay, be not too hasty.  See thou be careful and commit no foolish
+error,”--then he shut his voice down to a whisper, and said in the man’s
+ear--“the pig thou hast purchased for eightpence may cost thee thy neck,
+man!”
+
+The poor constable, taken by surprise, was speechless, at first, then
+found his tongue and fell to blustering and threatening; but Hendon
+was tranquil, and waited with patience till his breath was spent; then
+said--
+
+“I have a liking to thee, friend, and would not willingly see thee
+come to harm.  Observe, I heard it all--every word.  I will prove it to
+thee.” Then he repeated the conversation which the officer and the woman
+had had together in the hall, word for word, and ended with--
+
+“There--have I set it forth correctly?  Should not I be able to set it
+forth correctly before the judge, if occasion required?”
+
+The man was dumb with fear and distress, for a moment; then he rallied,
+and said with forced lightness--
+
+“‘Tis making a mighty matter, indeed, out of a jest; I but plagued the
+woman for mine amusement.”
+
+“Kept you the woman’s pig for amusement?”
+
+The man answered sharply--
+
+“Nought else, good sir--I tell thee ’twas but a jest.”
+
+“I do begin to believe thee,” said Hendon, with a perplexing mixture of
+mockery and half-conviction in his tone; “but tarry thou here a
+moment whilst I run and ask his worship--for nathless, he being a man
+experienced in law, in jests, in--”
+
+He was moving away, still talking; the constable hesitated, fidgeted,
+spat out an oath or two, then cried out--
+
+“Hold, hold, good sir--prithee wait a little--the judge!  Why, man, he
+hath no more sympathy with a jest than hath a dead corpse!--come, and we
+will speak further.  Ods body!  I seem to be in evil case--and all for
+an innocent and thoughtless pleasantry. I am a man of family; and my
+wife and little ones--List to reason, good your worship: what wouldst
+thou of me?”
+
+“Only that thou be blind and dumb and paralytic whilst one may count a
+hundred thousand--counting slowly,” said Hendon, with the expression of
+a man who asks but a reasonable favour, and that a very little one.
+
+“It is my destruction!” said the constable despairingly.  “Ah, be
+reasonable, good sir; only look at this matter, on all its sides, and
+see how mere a jest it is--how manifestly and how plainly it is so.  And
+even if one granted it were not a jest, it is a fault so small that
+e’en the grimmest penalty it could call forth would be but a rebuke and
+warning from the judge’s lips.”
+
+Hendon replied with a solemnity which chilled the air about him--
+
+“This jest of thine hath a name, in law,--wot you what it is?”
+
+“I knew it not!  Peradventure I have been unwise.  I never dreamed it
+had a name--ah, sweet heaven, I thought it was original.”
+
+“Yes, it hath a name.  In the law this crime is called Non compos mentis
+lex talionis sic transit gloria mundi.”
+
+“Ah, my God!”
+
+“And the penalty is death!”
+
+“God be merciful to me a sinner!”
+
+“By advantage taken of one in fault, in dire peril, and at thy mercy,
+thou hast seized goods worth above thirteenpence ha’penny, paying but
+a trifle for the same; and this, in the eye of the law, is constructive
+barratry, misprision of treason, malfeasance in office, ad hominem
+expurgatis in statu quo--and the penalty is death by the halter, without
+ransom, commutation, or benefit of clergy.”
+
+“Bear me up, bear me up, sweet sir, my legs do fail me!  Be thou
+merciful--spare me this doom, and I will turn my back and see nought
+that shall happen.”
+
+“Good! now thou’rt wise and reasonable.  And thou’lt restore the pig?”
+
+“I will, I will indeed--nor ever touch another, though heaven send it
+and an archangel fetch it.  Go--I am blind for thy sake--I see nothing.
+ I will say thou didst break in and wrest the prisoner from my hands by
+force.  It is but a crazy, ancient door--I will batter it down myself
+betwixt midnight and the morning.”
+
+“Do it, good soul, no harm will come of it; the judge hath a loving
+charity for this poor lad, and will shed no tears and break no jailer’s
+bones for his escape.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV. Hendon Hall.
+
+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 the town, and
+wait there, whilst Hendon should go to the inn and settle his account.
+Half an hour later the two friends were blithely jogging eastward on
+Hendon’s sorry steeds.  The King was warm and comfortable, now, for
+he had cast his rags and clothed himself in the second-hand suit which
+Hendon had bought on London Bridge.
+
+Hendon wished to guard against over-fatiguing the boy; he judged that
+hard journeys, irregular meals, and illiberal measures of sleep would be
+bad for his crazed mind; whilst rest, regularity, and moderate exercise
+would be pretty sure to hasten its cure; he longed to see the stricken
+intellect made well again and its diseased visions driven out of the
+tormented little head; therefore he resolved to move by easy stages
+toward the home whence he had so long been banished, instead of obeying
+the impulse of his impatience and hurrying along night and day.
+
+When he and the King had journeyed about ten miles, they reached a
+considerable village, and halted there for the night, at a good inn.
+ The former relations were resumed; Hendon stood behind the King’s
+chair, while he dined, and waited upon him; undressed him when he was
+ready for bed; then took the floor for his own quarters, and slept
+athwart the door, rolled up in a blanket.
+
+The next day, and the day after, they jogged lazily along talking
+over the adventures they had met since their separation, and mightily
+enjoying each other’s narratives.  Hendon detailed all his wide
+wanderings in search of the King, and described how the archangel had
+led him a fool’s journey all over the forest, and taken him back to
+the hut, finally, when he found he could not get rid of him.  Then--he
+said--the old man went into the bedchamber and came staggering back
+looking broken-hearted, and saying he had expected to find that the boy
+had returned and laid down in there to 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 the quest again.
+
+“And old Sanctum Sanctorum _was_ truly sorry your highness came not
+back,” said Hendon; “I saw it in his face.”
+
+“Marry I will never doubt _that_!” said the King--and then told his own
+story; after which, Hendon was sorry he had not destroyed the archangel.
+
+During the last day of the trip, Hendon’s spirits were soaring. His
+tongue ran constantly.  He talked about his old father, and his brother
+Arthur, and told of many things which illustrated their high and
+generous characters; he went into loving frenzies over his Edith,
+and was so glad-hearted that he was even able to say some gentle and
+brotherly things about Hugh.  He dwelt a deal on the coming meeting
+at Hendon Hall; what a surprise it would be to everybody, and what an
+outburst of thanksgiving and delight there would be.
+
+It was a fair region, dotted with cottages and orchards, and the road
+led through broad pasture lands whose receding expanses, marked with
+gentle elevations and depressions, suggested the swelling and subsiding
+undulations of the sea.  In the afternoon the returning prodigal made
+constant deflections from his course to see if by ascending some hillock
+he might not pierce the distance and catch a glimpse of his home.  At
+last he was successful, 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 my father’s
+park. Ah, _now_ thou’lt know what state and grandeur be! A house with
+seventy rooms--think of that!--and seven and twenty servants!  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’clock before
+the village was reached.  The travellers scampered through it, Hendon’s
+tongue going all the time.  “Here is the church--covered with the same
+ivy--none gone, none added.”  “Yonder is the inn, the old Red Lion,--and
+yonder is the market-place.”  “Here is the Maypole, and here the
+pump--nothing is altered; nothing but the people, at any rate; ten years
+make a change in people; some of these I seem to know, but none know
+me.”  So his chat ran on. The end of the village was soon reached; then
+the travellers struck into a crooked, narrow road, walled in with tall
+hedges, and hurried briskly along it for half a mile, then passed into a
+vast flower garden through an imposing gateway, whose huge stone pillars
+bore sculptured armorial devices.  A noble mansion was before them.
+
+“Welcome to Hendon Hall, my King!” exclaimed Miles.  “Ah, ’tis a great
+day!  My father and my brother, and the Lady Edith will be so mad with
+joy that they will have eyes and tongue for none but me in the first
+transports of the meeting, and so thou’lt seem but coldly welcomed--but
+mind it not; ’twill soon seem otherwise; for when I say thou art my
+ward, and tell them how costly is my love for thee, thou’lt see them
+take thee to their breasts for Miles Hendon’s sake, and make their house
+and 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 few
+steps brought him to a spacious apartment; he entered, seated the King
+with more hurry than ceremony, then ran toward a young man who sat at a
+writing-table in front of a generous fire of logs.
+
+“Embrace me, Hugh,” he cried, “and say thou’rt glad I am come again! and
+call our father, for home is not home till I shall touch his hand, and
+see his face, and hear his voice once more!”
+
+But Hugh only drew back, after betraying a momentary surprise, and bent
+a grave stare upon the intruder--a stare which indicated somewhat of
+offended dignity, at first, then changed, in response to some inward
+thought or purpose, to an expression of marvelling curiosity, mixed with
+a real or assumed compassion.  Presently he said, in a mild voice--
+
+“Thy wits seem touched, poor stranger; doubtless thou hast suffered
+privations and rude buffetings at the world’s hands; thy looks and dress
+betoken it.  Whom dost thou take me to be?”
+
+“Take thee?  Prithee for whom else than whom thou art?  I take thee 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 thou knowest
+me not for thy brother Miles Hendon?”
+
+An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Hugh’s face, and he
+exclaimed--
+
+“What! thou art not jesting? can the dead come to life?  God be praised
+if it be so!  Our poor lost boy restored to our arms after all these
+cruel years!  Ah, it seems too good to be true, it _is_ too good to be
+true--I charge thee, have pity, do not trifle with me!  Quick--come to
+the light--let me scan thee well!”
+
+He seized Miles by the arm, dragged him to the window, and began to
+devour him from head to foot with his eyes, turning him this way and
+that, and stepping briskly around him and about him to prove him
+from all points of view; whilst the returned prodigal, all aglow with
+gladness, smiled, laughed, and kept nodding his head and saying--
+
+“Go on, brother, go on, and fear not; thou’lt find nor limb nor feature
+that cannot bide the test.  Scour and scan me to thy content, my good
+old Hugh--I am indeed thy old Miles, thy same old Miles, thy lost
+brother, 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 very
+joy!”
+
+He was about to throw himself upon his brother; but Hugh put up his hand
+in dissent, then dropped his chin mournfully upon his breast, saying
+with emotion--
+
+“Ah, God of his mercy give me strength to bear this grievous
+disappointment!”
+
+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 the
+resemblances that are hid from mine.  Alack, I fear me the letter spoke
+but too truly.”
+
+“What letter?”
+
+“One that came from over sea, some six or seven years ago.  It said 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.  “My father
+dead!--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 me
+and console me.”
+
+“He, also, is dead.”
+
+“God be merciful to me, a stricken man!  Gone,--both gone--the worthy
+taken and the worthless spared, in me!  Ah! I crave your mercy!--do not
+say the Lady Edith--”
+
+“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 she will 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, and Margaret.”
+
+So saying, Hugh left the room.  Miles stood musing a while, then began
+to walk the floor, muttering--
+
+“The five arch-villains have survived the two-and-twenty leal and
+honest--‘tis an odd thing.”
+
+He continued walking back and forth, muttering to himself; he had
+forgotten the King entirely.  By-and-by his Majesty said gravely, and
+with a touch of genuine compassion, though the words themselves were
+capable of being interpreted ironically--
+
+“Mind not thy mischance, good man; there be others in the world whose
+identity is denied, and whose claims are derided.  Thou hast company.”
+
+“Ah, my King,” cried Hendon, colouring slightly, “do not thou condemn
+me--wait, and thou shalt see.  I am no impostor--she will say it; you
+shall hear it from the sweetest lips in England.  I an impostor?  Why, I
+know this old hall, these pictures of my ancestors, and all these things
+that are about us, as a child knoweth its own nursery.  Here was I born
+and bred, my lord; I speak the truth; I would not deceive thee; and
+should none else believe, I pray thee do not _thou_ doubt me--I could
+not bear it.”
+
+“I do not doubt thee,” said the King, with a childlike simplicity and
+faith.
+
+“I thank thee out of my heart!” exclaimed Hendon with a fervency which
+showed that he was touched.  The King added, with the same gentle
+simplicity--
+
+“Dost thou doubt _me_?”
+
+A guilty confusion seized upon Hendon, and he was grateful that the door
+opened to admit Hugh, at that moment, and saved him the necessity of
+replying.
+
+A beautiful lady, richly clothed, followed Hugh, and after her came
+several liveried servants.  The lady walked slowly, with her head bowed
+and her eyes fixed upon the floor.  The face was unspeakably 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, and her
+cheeks had flushed; she was trembling now.  She stood still, during an
+impressive pause of several moments; then slowly lifted up her head and
+looked into Hendon’s eyes with a stony and frightened 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, with a moan and a stifled sob, and tottered out of
+the 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 have
+seen that my wife knew you not.”
+
+“Thy _wife_!”  In an instant Hugh was pinned to the wall, with an iron
+grip about his throat.  “Oh, thou fox-hearted slave, I see it all!
+ Thou’st writ the lying letter thyself, and my stolen bride and goods
+are its fruit.  There--now get thee gone, lest I shame mine honourable
+soldiership with the slaying of so pitiful a mannikin!”
+
+Hugh, red-faced, and almost suffocated, reeled to the nearest chair, and
+commanded the servants to seize and bind the murderous stranger.  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 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 the
+threshold, and said to Miles, “You’ll find it to your advantage to
+offend 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.  He
+will remain--doubt it not.”
+
+
+
+
+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 but
+natural.  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 land
+is not filled with couriers and proclamations describing my person and
+making search for me?  Is it no matter for commotion and distress that
+the 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 to
+himself, “Poor ruined mind--still busy with its pathetic dream.”
+
+“But I have a plan that shall right us both--I will write a paper, in
+three tongues--Latin, Greek and English--and thou shalt haste away with
+it to London in the morning.  Give it to none but my uncle, the Lord
+Hertford; when he shall see it, he will know and say I wrote it.  Then
+he will send for me.”
+
+“Might it not be best, my Prince, that we wait here until I prove myself
+and make my rights secure to my domains?  I should be so much the better
+able then to--”
+
+The King interrupted him imperiously--
+
+“Peace!  What are thy paltry domains, thy trivial interests, contrasted
+with matters which concern the weal of a nation and the integrity of a
+throne?”  Then, he added, in a gentle voice, as if he were sorry for his
+severity, “Obey, and have no fear; I will right thee, I will make thee
+whole--yes, more than whole.  I shall remember, and requite.”
+
+So saying, he took the pen, and set himself to work.  Hendon
+contemplated him lovingly a while, then said to himself--
+
+“An’ it were dark, I should think it _was_ a king that spoke; there’s
+no denying it, when the humour’s upon on him he doth thunder and lighten
+like your true King; now where got he that trick?  See him scribble and
+scratch away contentedly at his meaningless pot-hooks, fancying them to
+be Latin and Greek--and except my wit shall serve me with a lucky device
+for diverting him from his purpose, I shall be forced to pretend to post
+away to-morrow on this wild errand he hath invented for me.”
+
+The next moment Sir Miles’s thoughts had gone back to the recent
+episode. So absorbed was he in his musings, that when the King presently
+handed him the paper which he had been writing, he received it and
+pocketed it without being conscious of the act. “How marvellous strange
+she acted,” he muttered.  “I think she knew me--and I think she did
+_not_ know me. These opinions do conflict, I perceive it plainly; I
+cannot reconcile them, neither can I, by argument, dismiss either of the
+two, or even persuade one to outweigh the other.  The matter standeth
+simply thus: she _must_ have known my face, my figure, my voice, for how
+could it be otherwise?  Yet she __said_ _she knew me not, and that is
+proof perfect, for she cannot lie.  But stop--I think I begin to see.
+Peradventure he hath influenced her, commanded her, compelled her to
+lie.  That is the solution.  The riddle is unriddled.  She seemed dead
+with fear--yes, she was under his compulsion.  I will seek her; I will
+find her; now that he is away, she will speak her true mind.  She will
+remember the old times when we were little playfellows together, and
+this will soften her heart, and she will no more betray me, but will
+confess me.  There is no treacherous blood in her--no, she was always
+honest and true.  She has loved me, in those old days--this is my
+security; for whom one has loved, one cannot betray.”
+
+He stepped eagerly toward the door; at that moment it opened, and the
+Lady 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 as
+sad as before.
+
+Miles sprang forward, with a happy confidence, to meet her, but she
+checked him with a hardly perceptible gesture, and he stopped where he
+was.  She seated herself, and asked him to do likewise. Thus simply did
+she take the sense of old comradeship out of him, and transform him
+into a stranger and a guest.  The surprise of it, the bewildering
+unexpectedness of it, made him begin to question, for a moment, if he
+_was_ the person he was pretending to be, after all.  The Lady Edith
+said--
+
+“Sir, I have come to warn you.  The mad cannot be persuaded out of
+their delusions, perchance; but doubtless they may be persuaded to avoid
+perils.  I think this dream of yours hath the seeming of honest truth to
+you, and therefore is not criminal--but do not tarry here with it; for
+here 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; his
+power 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 might
+bid you pleasure yourself with your dream in peace; but trust me, I know
+him well; I know what he will do; he will say to all that you are but a
+mad impostor, and straightway all will echo him.”  She bent upon Miles
+that same steady look once more, and added:  “If you _were_ Miles
+Hendon, and he knew it and all the region knew it--consider what I
+am saying, weigh it well--you would stand in the same peril, your
+punishment 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 that
+can command one life-long friend to betray and disown another, and be
+obeyed, may well look to be obeyed in quarters where bread and life are
+on 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 dropped
+her eyes to the floor; but her voice betrayed no emotion when she
+proceeded--
+
+“I have warned you--I must still warn you--to go hence.  This man will
+destroy you, else.  He is a tyrant who knows no pity.  I, who am
+his fettered slave, know this.  Poor Miles, and Arthur, and my dear
+guardian, Sir Richard, are free of him, and at rest:  better that
+you were with them than that you bide here in the clutches of this
+miscreant.  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, and
+escape while you may.”
+
+Miles declined the purse with a gesture, and rose up and stood before
+her.
+
+“Grant me one thing,” he said.  “Let your eyes rest upon mine, so that I
+may 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 struggle
+began; but Hendon was soon overpowered and dragged away. The King was
+taken also, and both were bound and led to prison.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII. In Prison.
+
+The cells were all crowded; so the two friends were chained in a large
+room where persons charged with trifling offences were commonly kept.
+They had company, for there were some twenty manacled and fettered
+prisoners here, of both sexes and of varying ages,--an obscene and noisy
+gang.  The King chafed bitterly over the stupendous indignity thus put
+upon his royalty, but Hendon was moody and taciturn.  He was pretty
+thoroughly bewildered; he had come home, a jubilant prodigal, expecting
+to find everybody wild with joy over his return; and instead had got the
+cold shoulder and a jail.  The promise and the fulfilment differed so
+widely that the effect was stunning; he could not decide whether it
+was most tragic or most grotesque.  He felt much as a man might who had
+danced blithely out to enjoy a rainbow, and got struck by lightning.
+
+But gradually his confused and tormenting thoughts settled down into
+some sort of order, and then his mind centred itself upon Edith.  He
+turned her conduct over, and examined it in all lights, but he could not
+make anything satisfactory out of it.  Did she know him--or didn’t she
+know him?  It was a perplexing puzzle, and occupied him a long time; but
+he ended, finally, with the conviction that she did know him, and had
+repudiated him for interested reasons.  He wanted to load her name with
+curses now; but this name had so long been sacred to him that he found
+he could not bring his tongue to profane it.
+
+Wrapped in prison blankets of a soiled and tattered condition, Hendon
+and the King passed a troubled night.  For a bribe the jailer had
+furnished liquor to some of the prisoners; singing of ribald songs,
+fighting, shouting, and carousing was the natural consequence.  At last,
+a while after midnight, a man attacked a woman and nearly killed her by
+beating her over the head with his manacles before the jailer could
+come to the rescue.  The jailer restored peace by giving the man a sound
+clubbing about the head and shoulders--then the carousing ceased;
+and after that, all had an opportunity to sleep who did not mind the
+annoyance of the moanings and groanings of the two wounded people.
+
+During the ensuing week, the days and nights were of a monotonous
+sameness as to events; men whose faces Hendon remembered more or less
+distinctly, came, by day, to gaze at the ‘impostor’ and repudiate
+and insult him; and by night the carousing and brawling went on with
+symmetrical regularity.  However, there was a change of incident at
+last. The jailer brought in an old man, and said to him--
+
+“The villain is in this room--cast thy old eyes about and see if thou
+canst say which is he.”
+
+Hendon glanced up, and experienced a pleasant sensation for the first
+time since he had been in the jail.  He said to himself, “This is Blake
+Andrews, a servant all his life in my father’s family--a good honest
+soul, with a right heart in his breast. That is, formerly.  But none are
+true now; all are liars.  This man will know me--and will deny me, too,
+like the rest.”
+
+The old man gazed around the room, glanced at each face in turn, and
+finally said--
+
+“I see none here but paltry knaves, scum o’ the streets.  Which is he?”
+
+The jailer laughed.
+
+“Here,” he said; “scan this big animal, and grant me an opinion.”
+
+The old man approached, and looked Hendon over, long and earnestly, then
+shook his head and said--
+
+“Marry, _this_ is no Hendon--nor ever was!”
+
+“Right!  Thy old eyes are sound yet.  An’ I were Sir Hugh, I would take
+the shabby carle and--”
+
+The jailer finished by lifting himself a-tip-toe with an imaginary
+halter, at the same time making a gurgling noise in his throat
+suggestive of suffocation.  The old man said, vindictively--
+
+“Let him bless God an’ he fare no worse.  An’ _I_ had the handling o’
+the villain he should roast, or I am no true man!”
+
+The jailer laughed a pleasant hyena laugh, and said--
+
+“Give him a piece of thy mind, old man--they all do it.  Thou’lt find it
+good diversion.”
+
+Then he sauntered toward his ante-room and disappeared.  The old man
+dropped upon his knees and whispered--
+
+“God be thanked, thou’rt come again, my master!  I believed thou wert
+dead these seven years, and lo, here thou art alive!  I knew thee the
+moment I saw thee; and main hard work it was to keep a stony countenance
+and seem to see none here but tuppenny knaves and rubbish o’ the
+streets. I am old and poor, Sir Miles; but say the word and I will go
+forth and proclaim the truth though I be strangled for it.”
+
+“No,” said Hendon; “thou shalt not.  It would ruin thee, and yet help
+but little in my cause.  But I thank thee, for thou hast given me back
+somewhat of my lost faith in my kind.”
+
+The old servant became very valuable to Hendon and the King; for
+he dropped in several times a day to ‘abuse’ the former, and always
+smuggled in a few delicacies to help out the prison bill of fare; he
+also furnished the current news.  Hendon reserved the dainties for the
+King; without them his Majesty might not have survived, for he was
+not able to eat the coarse and wretched food provided by the jailer.
+ Andrews was obliged to confine himself to brief visits, in order to
+avoid suspicion; but he managed to impart a fair degree of information
+each time--information delivered in a low voice, for Hendon’s benefit,
+and interlarded with insulting epithets delivered in a louder voice for
+the benefit of other hearers.
+
+So, little by little, the story of the family came out.  Arthur had
+been dead six years.  This loss, with the absence of news from Hendon,
+impaired the father’s health; he believed he was going to die, and he
+wished to see Hugh and Edith settled in life before he passed away; but
+Edith begged hard for delay, hoping for Miles’s return; then the letter
+came which brought the news of Miles’s death; the shock prostrated Sir
+Richard; he believed his end was very near, and he and Hugh insisted
+upon the marriage; Edith begged for and obtained a month’s respite,
+then another, and finally a third; the marriage then took place by
+the death-bed of Sir Richard.  It had not proved a happy one.  It was
+whispered about the country that shortly after the nuptials the bride
+found among her husband’s papers several rough and incomplete drafts of
+the fatal letter, and had accused him of precipitating the marriage--and
+Sir Richard’s death, too--by a wicked forgery. Tales of cruelty to the
+Lady Edith and the servants were to be heard on all hands; and since the
+father’s death Sir Hugh had thrown off all soft disguises and become
+a pitiless master toward all who in any way depended upon him and his
+domains for bread.
+
+There was a bit of Andrew’s gossip which the King listened to with a
+lively interest--
+
+“There is rumour that the King is mad.  But in charity forbear to say
+_I_ mentioned it, for ’tis death to speak of it, they say.”
+
+His Majesty glared at the old man and said--
+
+“The King is _not_ mad, good man--and thou’lt find it to thy advantage
+to busy thyself with matters that nearer concern thee than this
+seditious prattle.”
+
+“What doth the lad mean?” said Andrews, surprised at this brisk assault
+from such an unexpected quarter.  Hendon gave him a sign, and he did not
+pursue his question, but went on with his budget--
+
+“The late King is to be buried at Windsor in a day or two--the 16th of
+the month--and the new King will be crowned at Westminster the 20th.”
+
+“Methinks they must needs find him first,” muttered his Majesty; then
+added, confidently, “but they will look to that--and so also shall I.”
+
+“In the name of--”
+
+But the old man got no further--a warning sign from Hendon checked his
+remark.  He resumed the thread of his gossip--
+
+“Sir Hugh goeth to the coronation--and with grand hopes.  He confidently
+looketh to come back a peer, for he is high in favour with the Lord
+Protector.”
+
+“What Lord Protector?” asked his Majesty.
+
+“His Grace the Duke of Somerset.”
+
+“What Duke of Somerset?”
+
+“Marry, there is but one--Seymour, Earl of Hertford.”
+
+The King asked sharply--
+
+“Since when is _he_ a duke, and Lord Protector?”
+
+“Since the last day of January.”
+
+“And prithee who made him so?”
+
+“Himself and the Great Council--with help of the King.”
+
+His Majesty started violently.  “The _King_!” he cried.  “_What_ king,
+good sir?”
+
+“What king, indeed! (God-a-mercy, what aileth the boy?)  Sith we have
+but one, ’tis not difficult to answer--his most sacred Majesty King
+Edward the Sixth--whom God preserve!  Yea, and a dear and gracious
+little urchin is he, too; and whether he be mad or no--and they say he
+mendeth daily--his praises are on all men’s lips; and all bless him,
+likewise, and offer prayers that he may be spared to reign long in
+England; for he began humanely with saving the old Duke of Norfolk’s
+life, and now is he bent on destroying the cruellest of the laws that
+harry and oppress the people.”
+
+This news struck his Majesty dumb with amazement, and plunged him into
+so deep and dismal a reverie that he heard no more of the old man’s
+gossip. He wondered if the ‘little urchin’ was the beggar-boy whom
+he left dressed in his own garments in the palace.  It did not seem
+possible that this could be, for surely his manners and speech would
+betray him if he pretended to be the Prince of Wales--then he would be
+driven out, and search made for the true prince.  Could it be that the
+Court had set up some sprig of the nobility in his place?  No, for his
+uncle would not allow that--he was all-powerful and could and would
+crush such a movement, of course.  The boy’s musings profited him
+nothing; the more he tried to unriddle the mystery the more perplexed he
+became, the more his head ached, and the worse he slept.  His
+impatience to get to London grew hourly, and his captivity became almost
+unendurable.
+
+Hendon’s arts all failed with the King--he could not be comforted; but a
+couple of women who were chained near him succeeded better. Under their
+gentle ministrations he found peace and learned a degree of patience.
+ He was very grateful, and came to love them dearly and to delight in
+the sweet and soothing influence of their presence.  He asked them why
+they were in prison, and when they said they were Baptists, he smiled,
+and inquired--
+
+“Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison?  Now I grieve, for I
+shall lose ye--they will not keep ye long for such a little thing.”
+
+They did not answer; and something in their faces made him uneasy. He
+said, eagerly--
+
+“You do not speak; be good to me, and tell me--there will be no other
+punishment?  Prithee tell me there is no fear of that.”
+
+They tried to change the topic, but his fears were aroused, and he
+pursued it--
+
+“Will they scourge thee?  No, no, they would not be so cruel!  Say they
+would not.  Come, they _will_ not, will they?”
+
+The women betrayed confusion and distress, but there was no avoiding an
+answer, so one of them said, in a voice choked with emotion--
+
+“Oh, thou’lt break our hearts, thou gentle spirit!--God will help us to
+bear our--”
+
+“It is a confession!” the King broke in.  “Then they _will_ scourge
+thee, the stony-hearted wretches!  But oh, thou must not weep, I cannot
+bear it.  Keep up thy courage--I shall come to my own in time to save
+thee from this bitter thing, and I will do it!”
+
+When the King awoke in the morning, the women were gone.
+
+“They are saved!” he said, joyfully; then added, despondently, “but woe
+is me!--for they were my comforters.”
+
+Each of them had left a shred of ribbon pinned to his clothing, in token
+of remembrance.  He said he would keep these things always; and that
+soon he would seek out these dear good friends of his and take them
+under his protection.
+
+Just then the jailer came in with some subordinates, and commanded that
+the prisoners be conducted to the jail-yard.  The King was overjoyed--it
+would be a blessed thing to see the blue sky and breathe the fresh air
+once more.  He fretted and chafed at the slowness of the officers, but
+his turn came at last, and he was released from his staple and ordered
+to follow the other prisoners with Hendon.
+
+The court or quadrangle was stone-paved, and open to the sky.  The
+prisoners entered it through a massive archway of masonry, and were
+placed in file, standing, with their backs against the wall. A rope
+was stretched in front of them, and they were also guarded by their
+officers. It was a chill and lowering morning, and a light snow which
+had fallen during the night whitened the great empty space and added
+to the general dismalness of its aspect. Now and then a wintry wind
+shivered through the place and sent the snow eddying hither and thither.
+
+In the centre of the court stood two women, chained to posts.  A glance
+showed the King that these were his good friends.  He shuddered, and
+said to himself, “Alack, they are not gone free, as I had thought.  To
+think that such as these should know the lash!--in England!  Ay, there’s
+the shame of it--not in Heathennesse, Christian England!  They will be
+scourged; and I, whom they have comforted and kindly entreated, must
+look on and see the great wrong done; it is strange, so strange, that
+I, the very source of power in this broad realm, am helpless to protect
+them. But let these miscreants look well to themselves, for there is a
+day coming when I will require of them a heavy reckoning for this work.
+ For every blow they strike now, they shall feel a hundred then.”
+
+A great gate swung open, and a crowd of citizens poured in.  They
+flocked around the two women, and hid them from the King’s view. A
+clergyman entered and passed through the crowd, and he also was hidden.
+ The King now heard talking, back and forth, as if questions were being
+asked and answered, but he could not make out what was said.  Next there
+was a deal of bustle and preparation, and much passing and repassing of
+officials through that part of the crowd that stood on the further side
+of the women; and whilst this proceeded a deep hush gradually fell upon
+the people.
+
+Now, by command, the masses parted and fell aside, and the King saw a
+spectacle that froze the marrow in his bones.  Faggots had been piled
+about the two women, and a kneeling man was lighting them!
+
+The women bowed their heads, and covered their faces with their hands;
+the yellow flames began to climb upward among the snapping and crackling
+faggots, and wreaths of blue smoke to stream away on the wind; the
+clergyman lifted his hands and began a prayer--just then two young girls
+came flying through the great gate, uttering piercing screams, and threw
+themselves upon the women at the stake.  Instantly they were torn away
+by the officers, and one of them was kept in a tight grip, but the other
+broke loose, saying she would die with her mother; and before she could
+be stopped she had flung her arms about her mother’s neck again.  She
+was torn away once more, and with her gown on fire.  Two or three men
+held her, and the burning portion of her gown was snatched off and
+thrown flaming aside, she struggling all the while to free herself, and
+saying she would be alone in the world, now; and begging to be allowed
+to die with her mother.  Both the girls screamed continually, and fought
+for freedom; but suddenly this tumult was drowned under a volley of
+heart-piercing shrieks of mortal agony--the King glanced from the
+frantic girls to the stake, then turned away and leaned his ashen face
+against the wall, and looked no more.  He said, “That which I have seen,
+in that one little moment, will never go out from my memory, but will
+abide there; and I shall see it all the days, and dream of it all the
+nights, till I die.  Would God I had been blind!”
+
+Hendon was watching the King.  He said to himself, with satisfaction,
+“His disorder mendeth; he hath changed, and groweth gentler.  If he had
+followed his wont, he would have stormed at these varlets, and said he
+was King, and commanded that the women be turned loose unscathed.  Soon
+his delusion will pass away and be forgotten, and his poor mind will be
+whole again.  God speed the day!”
+
+That same day several prisoners were brought in to remain over night,
+who were being conveyed, under guard, to various places in the kingdom,
+to undergo punishment for crimes committed.  The King conversed with
+these--he had made it a point, from the beginning, to instruct himself
+for the kingly office by questioning prisoners whenever the opportunity
+offered--and the tale of their woes wrung his heart.  One of them was
+a poor half-witted woman who had stolen a yard or two of cloth from a
+weaver--she was to be hanged for it.  Another was a man who had been
+accused of stealing a horse; he said the proof had failed, and he had
+imagined that he was safe from the halter; but no--he was hardly free
+before he was arraigned for killing a deer in the King’s park; this was
+proved against him, and now he was on his way to the gallows.  There was
+a tradesman’s apprentice whose case particularly distressed the King;
+this youth said he found a hawk, one evening, that had escaped from its
+owner, and he took it home with him, imagining himself entitled to it;
+but the court convicted him of stealing it, and sentenced him to death.
+
+The King was furious over these inhumanities, and wanted Hendon to break
+jail and fly with him to Westminster, so that he could mount his throne
+and hold out his sceptre in mercy over these unfortunate people and
+save their lives.  “Poor child,” sighed Hendon, “these woeful tales
+have brought his malady upon him again; alack, but for this evil hap, he
+would have been well in a little time.”
+
+Among these prisoners was an old lawyer--a man with a strong face and a
+dauntless mien.  Three years past, he had written a pamphlet against the
+Lord Chancellor, accusing him of injustice, and had been punished for
+it by the loss of his ears in the pillory, and degradation from the
+bar, and in addition had been fined 3,000 pounds and sentenced to
+imprisonment for life.  Lately he had repeated his offence; and in
+consequence was now under sentence to lose _what remained of his ears_,
+pay a fine of 5,000 pounds, be branded on both cheeks, and remain in
+prison for life.
+
+“These be honourable scars,” he said, and turned back his grey hair and
+showed the mutilated stubs of what had once been his ears.
+
+The King’s eye burned with passion.  He said--
+
+“None believe in me--neither wilt thou.  But no matter--within the
+compass of a month thou shalt be free; and more, the laws that have
+dishonoured thee, and shamed the English name, shall be swept from the
+statute books.  The world is made wrong; kings should go to school to
+their own laws, at times, and so learn mercy.” {1}
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII. The sacrifice.
+
+Meantime Miles was growing sufficiently tired of confinement and
+inaction.  But now his trial came on, to his great gratification, and
+he thought he could welcome any sentence provided a further imprisonment
+should not be a part of it.  But he was mistaken about that.  He was in
+a fine fury when he found himself described as a ‘sturdy vagabond’ and
+sentenced to sit two hours in the stocks for bearing that character
+and for assaulting the master of Hendon Hall.  His pretensions as to
+brothership with his prosecutor, and rightful heirship to the Hendon
+honours and estates, were left contemptuously unnoticed, as being not
+even worth examination.
+
+He raged and threatened on his way to punishment, but it did no good; he
+was snatched roughly along by the officers, and got an occasional cuff,
+besides, for his irreverent conduct.
+
+The King could not pierce through the rabble that swarmed behind; so
+he was obliged to follow in the rear, remote from his good friend and
+servant.  The King had been nearly condemned to the stocks himself for
+being in such bad company, but had been let off with a lecture and a
+warning, in consideration of his youth.  When the crowd at last halted,
+he flitted feverishly from point to point around its outer rim, hunting
+a place to get through; and at last, after a deal of difficulty and
+delay, succeeded.  There sat his poor henchman in the degrading stocks,
+the sport and butt of a dirty mob--he, the body servant of the King
+of England!  Edward had heard the sentence pronounced, but he had not
+realised the half that it meant.  His anger began to rise as the sense
+of this new indignity which had been put upon him sank home; it jumped
+to summer heat, the next moment, when he saw an egg sail through the air
+and crush itself against Hendon’s cheek, and heard the crowd roar
+its enjoyment of the episode.  He sprang across the open circle and
+confronted the officer in charge, crying--
+
+“For shame!  This is my servant--set him free!  I am the--”
+
+“Oh, peace!” exclaimed Hendon, in a panic, “thou’lt destroy thyself.
+Mind him not, officer, he is mad.”
+
+“Give thyself no trouble as to the matter of minding him, good man, I
+have small mind to mind him; but as to teaching him somewhat, to that
+I am well inclined.”  He turned to a subordinate and said, “Give the
+little fool a taste or two of the lash, to mend his manners.”
+
+“Half a dozen will better serve his turn,” suggested Sir Hugh, who had
+ridden up, a moment before, to take a passing glance at the proceedings.
+
+The King was seized.  He did not even struggle, so paralysed was he
+with the mere thought of the monstrous outrage that was proposed to be
+inflicted upon his sacred person.  History was already defiled with
+the record of the scourging of an English king with whips--it was an
+intolerable reflection that he must furnish a duplicate of that shameful
+page.  He was in the toils, there was no help for him; he must either
+take this punishment or beg for its remission.  Hard conditions; he
+would take the stripes--a king might do that, but a king could not beg.
+
+But meantime, Miles Hendon was resolving the difficulty.  “Let the child
+go,” said he; “ye heartless dogs, do ye not see how young and frail he
+is?  Let him go--I will take his lashes.”
+
+“Marry, a good thought--and thanks for it,” said Sir Hugh, his face
+lighting with a sardonic satisfaction.  “Let the little beggar go, and
+give this fellow a dozen in his place--an honest dozen, well laid on.”
+ The King was in the act of entering a fierce protest, but Sir Hugh
+silenced him with the potent remark, “Yes, speak up, do, and free thy
+mind--only, mark ye, that for each word you utter he shall get six
+strokes the more.”
+
+Hendon was removed from the stocks, and his back laid bare; and whilst
+the lash was applied the poor little King turned away his face and
+allowed unroyal tears to channel his cheeks unchecked. “Ah, brave good
+heart,” he said to himself, “this loyal deed shall never perish out of
+my memory.  I will not forget it--and neither shall _they_!” he added,
+with passion.  Whilst he mused, his appreciation of Hendon’s magnanimous
+conduct grew to greater and still greater dimensions in his mind, and
+so also did his gratefulness for it.  Presently he said to himself, “Who
+saves his prince from wounds and possible death--and this he did for
+me--performs high service; but it is little--it is nothing--oh, less
+than nothing!--when ’tis weighed against the act of him who saves his
+prince from _shame_!”
+
+Hendon made no outcry under the scourge, but bore the heavy blows with
+soldierly fortitude.  This, together with his redeeming the boy by
+taking his stripes for him, compelled the respect of even that forlorn
+and degraded mob that was gathered there; and its gibes and hootings
+died away, and no sound remained but the sound of the falling blows.
+ The stillness that pervaded the place, when Hendon found himself once
+more in the stocks, was in strong contrast with the insulting clamour
+which had prevailed there so little a while before.  The King came
+softly to Hendon’s side, and whispered in his ear--
+
+“Kings cannot ennoble thee, thou good, great soul, for One who is higher
+than kings hath done that for thee; but a king can confirm thy nobility
+to men.”  He picked up the scourge from the ground, touched Hendon’s
+bleeding shoulders lightly with it, and whispered, “Edward of England
+dubs thee Earl!”
+
+Hendon was touched.  The water welled to his eyes, yet at the same time
+the grisly humour of the situation and circumstances so undermined his
+gravity that it was all he could do to keep some sign of his inward
+mirth from showing outside.  To be suddenly hoisted, naked and gory,
+from the common stocks to the Alpine altitude and splendour of
+an Earldom, seemed to him the last possibility in the line of the
+grotesque.  He said to himself, “Now am I finely tinselled, indeed!
+ The spectre-knight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows is become a
+spectre-earl--a dizzy flight for a callow wing!  An’ this go on, I
+shall presently be hung like a very maypole with fantastic gauds and
+make-believe honours.  But I shall value them, all valueless as
+they are, for the love that doth bestow them. Better these poor mock
+dignities of mine, that come unasked, from a clean hand and a right
+spirit, than real ones bought by servility from grudging and interested
+power.”
+
+The dreaded Sir Hugh wheeled his horse about, and as he spurred away,
+the living wall divided silently to let him pass, and as silently closed
+together again.  And so remained; nobody went so far as to venture
+a remark in favour of the prisoner, or in compliment to him; but no
+matter--the absence of abuse was a sufficient homage in itself.  A
+late comer who was not posted as to the present circumstances, and who
+delivered a sneer at the ‘impostor,’ and was in the act of following it
+with a dead cat, was promptly knocked down and kicked out, without any
+words, and then the deep quiet resumed sway once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX. To London.
+
+When Hendon’s term of service in the stocks was finished, he was
+released and ordered to quit the region and come back no more. His sword
+was restored to him, and also his mule and his donkey. He mounted
+and rode off, followed by the King, the crowd opening with quiet
+respectfulness to let them pass, and then dispersing when they were
+gone.
+
+Hendon was soon absorbed in thought.  There were questions of high
+import to be answered.  What should he do?  Whither should he go?
+Powerful help must be found somewhere, or he must relinquish his
+inheritance and remain under the imputation of being an impostor
+besides.  Where could he hope to find this powerful help?  Where,
+indeed!  It was a knotty question. By-and-by a thought occurred to him
+which pointed to a possibility--the slenderest of slender possibilities,
+certainly, but still worth considering, for lack of any other that
+promised anything at all.  He remembered what old Andrews had said about
+the young King’s goodness and his generous championship of the wronged
+and unfortunate.  Why not go and try to get speech of him and beg for
+justice?  Ah, yes, but could so fantastic a pauper get admission to the
+august presence of a monarch? Never mind--let that matter take care of
+itself; it was a bridge that would not need to be crossed till he should
+come to it.  He was an old campaigner, and used to inventing shifts and
+expedients:  no doubt he would be able to find a way.  Yes, he would
+strike for the capital. Maybe his father’s old friend Sir Humphrey
+Marlow would help him--‘good old Sir Humphrey, Head Lieutenant of the
+late King’s kitchen, or stables, or something’--Miles could not remember
+just what or which.  Now that he had something to turn his energies to,
+a distinctly defined object to accomplish, the fog of humiliation and
+depression which had settled down upon his spirits lifted and blew away,
+and he raised his head and looked about him.  He was surprised to see
+how far he had come; the village was away behind him.  The King was
+jogging along in his wake, with his head bowed; for he, too, was deep
+in plans and thinkings.  A sorrowful misgiving clouded Hendon’s new-born
+cheerfulness:  would the boy be willing to go again to a city where,
+during all his brief life, he had never known anything but ill-usage and
+pinching want?  But the question must be asked; it could not be avoided;
+so Hendon reined up, and called out--
+
+“I had forgotten to inquire whither we are bound.  Thy commands, my
+liege!”
+
+“To London!”
+
+Hendon moved on again, mightily contented with the answer--but astounded
+at it too.
+
+The whole journey was made without an adventure of importance. But it
+ended with one.  About ten o’clock on the night of the 19th of February
+they stepped upon London Bridge, in the midst of a writhing, struggling
+jam of howling and hurrahing people, whose beer-jolly faces stood out
+strongly in the glare from manifold torches--and at that instant the
+decaying head of some former duke or other grandee tumbled down between
+them, striking Hendon on the elbow and then bounding off among the
+hurrying confusion of feet. So evanescent and unstable are men’s works
+in this world!--the late good King is but three weeks dead and three
+days in his grave, and already the adornments which he took such pains
+to select from prominent people for his noble bridge are falling.  A
+citizen stumbled over that head, and drove his own head into the back of
+somebody in front of him, who turned and knocked down the first person
+that came handy, and was promptly laid out himself by that person’s
+friend.  It was the right ripe time for a free fight, for the
+festivities of the morrow--Coronation Day--were already beginning;
+everybody was full of strong drink and patriotism; within five minutes
+the free fight was occupying a good deal of ground; within ten or twelve
+it covered an acre of so, and was become a riot.  By this time Hendon
+and the King were hopelessly separated from each other and lost in the
+rush and turmoil of the roaring masses of humanity.  And so we leave
+them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX. Tom’s progress.
+
+Whilst the true King wandered about the land poorly clad, poorly
+fed, cuffed and derided by tramps one while, herding with thieves
+and murderers in a jail another, and called idiot and impostor by
+all impartially, the mock King Tom Canty enjoyed quite a different
+experience.
+
+When we saw him last, royalty was just beginning to have a bright side
+for him.  This bright side went on brightening more and more every
+day: in a very little while it was become almost all sunshine and
+delightfulness.  He lost his fears; his misgivings faded out and died;
+his embarrassments departed, and gave place to an easy and confident
+bearing.  He worked the whipping-boy mine to ever-increasing profit.
+
+He ordered my Lady Elizabeth and my Lady Jane Grey into his presence
+when he wanted to play or talk, and dismissed them when he was done with
+them, with the air of one familiarly accustomed to such performances.
+ It no longer confused him to have these lofty personages kiss his hand
+at parting.
+
+He came to enjoy being conducted to bed in state at night, and dressed
+with intricate and solemn ceremony in the morning.  It came to be a
+proud pleasure to march to dinner attended by a glittering procession
+of officers of state and gentlemen-at-arms; insomuch, indeed, that he
+doubled his guard of gentlemen-at-arms, and made them a hundred.  He
+liked to hear the bugles sounding down the long corridors, and the
+distant voices responding, “Way for the King!”
+
+He even learned to enjoy sitting in throned state in council, and
+seeming to be something more than the Lord Protector’s mouthpiece. He
+liked to receive great ambassadors and their gorgeous trains, and listen
+to the affectionate messages they brought from illustrious monarchs who
+called him brother.  O happy Tom Canty, late of Offal Court!
+
+He enjoyed his splendid clothes, and ordered more:  he found his four
+hundred servants too few for his proper grandeur, and trebled them.  The
+adulation of salaaming courtiers came to be sweet music to his ears.  He
+remained kind and gentle, and a sturdy and determined champion of all
+that were oppressed, and he made tireless war upon unjust laws:  yet
+upon occasion, being offended, he could turn upon an earl, or even a
+duke, and give him a look that would make him tremble.  Once, when his
+royal ‘sister,’ the grimly holy Lady Mary, set herself to reason with
+him against the wisdom of his course in pardoning so many people who
+would otherwise be jailed, or hanged, or burned, and reminded him that
+their august late father’s prisons had sometimes contained as high as
+sixty thousand convicts at one time, and that during his admirable reign
+he had delivered seventy-two thousand thieves and robbers over to death
+by the executioner, {9} the boy was filled with generous indignation,
+and commanded her to go to her closet, and beseech God to take away the
+stone that was in her breast, and give her a human heart.
+
+Did Tom Canty never feel troubled about the poor little rightful prince
+who had treated him so kindly, and flown out with such hot zeal to
+avenge him upon the insolent sentinel at the palace-gate? Yes; his first
+royal days and nights were pretty well sprinkled with painful thoughts
+about the lost prince, and with sincere longings for his return, and
+happy restoration to his native rights and splendours.  But as time
+wore on, and the prince did not come, Tom’s mind became more and more
+occupied with his new and enchanting experiences, and by little and
+little the vanished monarch faded almost out of his thoughts; and
+finally, when he did intrude upon them at intervals, he was become an
+unwelcome spectre, for he made Tom feel guilty and ashamed.
+
+Tom’s poor mother and sisters travelled the same road out of his mind.
+At first he pined for them, sorrowed for them, longed to see them, but
+later, the thought of their coming some day in their rags and dirt, and
+betraying him with their kisses, and pulling him down from his lofty
+place, and dragging him back to penury and degradation and the slums,
+made him shudder.  At last they ceased to trouble his thoughts almost
+wholly.  And he was content, even glad:  for, whenever their mournful
+and accusing faces did rise before him now, they made him feel more
+despicable than the worms that crawl.
+
+At midnight of the 19th of February, Tom Canty was sinking to sleep in
+his rich bed in the palace, guarded by his loyal vassals, and surrounded
+by the pomps of royalty, a happy boy; for tomorrow was the day appointed
+for his solemn crowning as King of England. At that same hour, Edward,
+the true king, hungry and thirsty, soiled and draggled, worn with
+travel, and clothed in rags and shreds--his share of the results of the
+riot--was wedged in among a crowd of people who were watching with deep
+interest certain hurrying gangs of workmen who streamed in and out of
+Westminster Abbey, busy as ants:  they were making the last preparation
+for the royal coronation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI. The Recognition procession.
+
+When Tom Canty awoke the next morning, the air was heavy with a
+thunderous murmur:  all the distances were charged with it.  It was
+music to him; for it meant that the English world was out in its
+strength to give loyal welcome to the great day.
+
+Presently Tom found himself once more the chief figure in a wonderful
+floating pageant on the Thames; for by ancient custom the ‘recognition
+procession’ through London must start from the Tower, and he was bound
+thither.
+
+When he arrived there, the sides of the venerable fortress seemed
+suddenly rent in a thousand places, and from every rent leaped a
+red tongue of flame and a white gush of smoke; a deafening explosion
+followed, which drowned the shoutings of the multitude, and made the
+ground tremble; the flame-jets, the smoke, and the explosions, were
+repeated over and over again with marvellous celerity, so that in a few
+moments the old Tower disappeared in the vast fog of its own smoke, all
+but the very top of the tall pile called the White Tower; this, with
+its banners, stood out above the dense bank of vapour as a mountain-peak
+projects above a cloud-rack.
+
+Tom Canty, splendidly arrayed, mounted a prancing war-steed, whose rich
+trappings almost reached to the ground; his ‘uncle,’ the Lord Protector
+Somerset, similarly mounted, took place in his rear; the King’s Guard
+formed in single ranks on either side, clad in burnished armour;
+after the Protector followed a seemingly interminable procession of
+resplendent nobles attended by their vassals; after these came the lord
+mayor and the aldermanic body, in crimson velvet robes, and with their
+gold chains across their breasts; and after these the officers and
+members of all the guilds of London, in rich raiment, and bearing the
+showy banners of the several corporations.  Also in the procession, as a
+special guard of honour through the city, was the Ancient and Honourable
+Artillery Company--an organisation already three hundred years old
+at that time, and the only military body in England possessing the
+privilege (which it still possesses in our day) of holding itself
+independent of the commands of Parliament.  It was a brilliant
+spectacle, and was hailed with acclamations all along the line, as it
+took its stately way through the packed multitudes of citizens. The
+chronicler says, ‘The King, as he entered the city, was received by the
+people with prayers, welcomings, cries, and tender words, and all signs
+which argue an earnest love of subjects toward their sovereign; and the
+King, by holding up his glad countenance to such as stood afar off, and
+most tender language to those that stood nigh his Grace, showed himself
+no less thankful to receive the people’s goodwill than they to offer it.
+ To all that wished him well, he gave thanks.  To such as bade “God save
+his Grace,” he said in return, “God save you all!” and added that “he
+thanked them with all his heart.” Wonderfully transported were the
+people with the loving answers and gestures of their King.’
+
+In Fenchurch Street a ‘fair child, in costly apparel,’ stood on a stage
+to welcome his Majesty to the city.  The last verse of his greeting was
+in these words--
+
+‘Welcome, O King! as much as hearts can think; Welcome, again, as much
+as tongue can tell,--Welcome to joyous tongues, and hearts that will
+not shrink: God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well.’
+
+The people burst forth in a glad shout, repeating with one voice what
+the child had said.  Tom Canty gazed abroad over the surging sea of
+eager faces, and his heart swelled with exultation; and he felt that
+the one thing worth living for in this world was to be a king, and a
+nation’s idol.  Presently he caught sight, at a distance, of a couple
+of his ragged Offal Court comrades--one of them the lord high admiral in
+his late mimic court, the other the first lord of the bedchamber in the
+same pretentious fiction; and his pride swelled higher than ever.  Oh,
+if they could only recognise him now!  What unspeakable glory it would
+be, if they could recognise him, and realise that the derided mock king
+of the slums and back alleys was become a real King, with illustrious
+dukes and princes for his humble menials, and the English world at his
+feet!  But he had to deny himself, and choke down his desire, for such
+a recognition might cost more than it would come to:  so he turned away
+his head, and left the two soiled lads to go on with their shoutings and
+glad adulations, unsuspicious of whom it was they were lavishing them
+upon.
+
+Every now and then rose the cry, “A largess! a largess!” and Tom
+responded by scattering a handful of bright new coins abroad for the
+multitude to scramble for.
+
+The chronicler says, ‘At the upper end of Gracechurch Street, before the
+sign of the Eagle, the city had erected a gorgeous arch, beneath which
+was a stage, which stretched from one side of the street to the other.
+This was an historical pageant, representing the King’s immediate
+progenitors.  There sat Elizabeth of York in the midst of an immense
+white rose, whose petals formed elaborate furbelows around her; by her
+side was Henry VII., issuing out of a vast red rose, disposed in the
+same manner:  the hands of the royal pair were locked together, and the
+wedding-ring ostentatiously displayed.  From the red and white roses
+proceeded a stem, which reached up to a second stage, occupied by Henry
+VIII., issuing from a red and white rose, with the effigy of the new
+King’s mother, Jane Seymour, represented by his side.  One branch sprang
+from this pair, which mounted to a third stage, where sat the effigy of
+Edward VI. himself, enthroned in royal majesty; and the whole pageant
+was framed with wreaths of roses, red and white.’
+
+This quaint and gaudy spectacle so wrought upon the rejoicing people,
+that their acclamations utterly smothered the small voice of the child
+whose business it was to explain the thing in eulogistic rhymes.  But
+Tom Canty was not sorry; for this loyal uproar was sweeter music to him
+than any poetry, no matter what its quality might be.  Whithersoever Tom
+turned his happy young face, the people recognised the exactness of his
+effigy’s likeness to himself, the flesh and blood counterpart; and new
+whirlwinds of applause burst forth.
+
+The great pageant moved on, and still on, under one triumphal arch after
+another, and past a bewildering succession of spectacular and symbolical
+tableaux, each of which typified and exalted some virtue, or talent, or
+merit, of the little King’s.  ‘Throughout the whole of Cheapside, from
+every penthouse and window, hung banners and streamers; and the richest
+carpets, stuffs, and cloth-of-gold tapestried the streets--specimens
+of the great wealth of the stores within; and the splendour of this
+thoroughfare was equalled in the other streets, and in some even
+surpassed.’
+
+“And all these wonders and these marvels are to welcome me--me!”
+ murmured Tom Canty.
+
+The mock King’s cheeks were flushed with excitement, his eyes were
+flashing, his senses swam in a delirium of pleasure.  At this point,
+just as he was raising his hand to fling another rich largess, he caught
+sight of a pale, astounded face, which was strained forward out of
+the second rank of the crowd, its intense eyes riveted upon him.  A
+sickening consternation struck through him; he recognised his
+mother! and up flew his hand, palm outward, before his eyes--that old
+involuntary gesture, born of a forgotten episode, and perpetuated by
+habit.  In an instant more she had torn her way out of the press, and
+past the guards, and was at his side.  She embraced his leg, she covered
+it with kisses, she cried, “O my child, my darling!” lifting toward him
+a face that was transfigured with joy and love.  The same instant an
+officer of the King’s Guard snatched her away with a curse, and sent
+her reeling back whence she came with a vigorous impulse from his
+strong arm.  The words “I do not know you, woman!” were falling from Tom
+Canty’s lips when this piteous thing occurred; but it smote him to the
+heart to see her treated so; and as she turned for a last glimpse of
+him, whilst the crowd was swallowing her from his sight, she seemed so
+wounded, so broken-hearted, that a shame fell upon him which consumed
+his pride to ashes, and withered his stolen royalty.  His grandeurs were
+stricken valueless: they seemed to fall away from him like rotten rags.
+
+The procession moved on, and still on, through ever augmenting
+splendours and ever augmenting tempests of welcome; but to Tom Canty
+they were as if they had not been.  He neither saw nor heard.  Royalty
+had lost its grace and sweetness; its pomps were become a reproach.
+ Remorse was eating his heart out.  He said, “Would God I were free of
+my captivity!”
+
+He had unconsciously dropped back into the phraseology of the first days
+of his compulsory greatness.
+
+The shining pageant still went winding like a radiant and interminable
+serpent down the crooked lanes of the quaint old city, and through the
+huzzaing hosts; but still the King rode with bowed head and vacant eyes,
+seeing only his mother’s face and that wounded look in it.
+
+“Largess, largess!”  The cry fell upon an unheeding ear.
+
+“Long live Edward of England!”  It seemed as if the earth shook with the
+explosion; but there was no response from the King.  He heard it only as
+one hears the thunder of the surf when it is blown to the ear out of a
+great distance, for it was smothered under another sound which was still
+nearer, in his own breast, in his accusing conscience--a voice which
+kept repeating those shameful words, “I do not know you, woman!”
+
+The words smote upon the King’s soul as the strokes of a funeral bell
+smite upon the soul of a surviving friend when they remind him of secret
+treacheries suffered at his hands by him that is gone.
+
+New glories were unfolded at every turning; new wonders, new marvels,
+sprang into view; the pent clamours of waiting batteries were released;
+new raptures poured from the throats of the waiting multitudes:  but the
+King gave no sign, and the accusing voice that went moaning through his
+comfortless breast was all the sound he heard.
+
+By-and-by the gladness in the faces of the populace changed a little,
+and became touched with a something like solicitude or anxiety:  an
+abatement in the volume of the applause was observable too.  The Lord
+Protector was quick to notice these things:  he was as quick to detect
+the cause.  He spurred to the King’s side, bent low in his saddle,
+uncovered, and said--
+
+“My liege, it is an ill time for dreaming.  The people observe thy
+downcast head, thy clouded mien, and they take it for an omen.  Be
+advised:  unveil the sun of royalty, and let it shine upon these boding
+vapours, and disperse them.  Lift up thy face, and smile upon the
+people.”
+
+So saying, the Duke scattered a handful of coins to right and left, then
+retired to his place.  The mock King did mechanically as he had been
+bidden.  His smile had no heart in it, but few eyes were near enough
+or sharp enough to detect that.  The noddings of his plumed head as he
+saluted his subjects were full of grace and graciousness; the largess
+which he delivered from his hand was royally liberal:  so the people’s
+anxiety vanished, and the acclamations burst forth again in as mighty a
+volume as before.
+
+Still once more, a little before the progress was ended, the Duke was
+obliged to ride forward, and make remonstrance.  He whispered--
+
+“O dread sovereign! shake off these fatal humours; the eyes of the world
+are upon thee.”  Then he added with sharp annoyance, “Perdition catch
+that crazy pauper! ’twas she that hath disturbed your Highness.”
+
+The gorgeous figure turned a lustreless eye upon the Duke, and said in a
+dead voice--
+
+“She was my mother!”
+
+“My God!” groaned the Protector as he reined his horse backward to his
+post, “the omen was pregnant with prophecy.  He is gone mad again!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII. Coronation Day.
+
+Let us go backward a few hours, and place ourselves in Westminster
+Abbey, at four o’clock in the morning of this memorable Coronation Day.
+ We are not without company; for although it is still night, we find
+the torch-lighted galleries already filling up with people who are well
+content to sit still and wait seven or eight hours till the time shall
+come for them to see what they may not hope to see twice in their
+lives--the coronation of a King.  Yes, London and Westminster have been
+astir ever since the warning guns boomed at three o’clock, and already
+crowds of untitled rich folk who have bought the privilege of trying
+to find sitting-room in the galleries are flocking in at the entrances
+reserved for their sort.
+
+The hours drag along tediously enough.  All stir has ceased for some
+time, for every gallery has long ago been packed.  We may sit, now, and
+look and think at our leisure.  We have glimpses, here and there
+and yonder, through the dim cathedral twilight, of portions of many
+galleries and balconies, wedged full with other people, the other
+portions of these galleries and balconies being cut off from sight by
+intervening pillars and architectural projections.  We have in view
+the whole of the great north transept--empty, and waiting for England’s
+privileged ones.  We see also the ample area or platform, carpeted with
+rich stuffs, whereon the throne stands.  The throne occupies the centre
+of the platform, and is raised above it upon an elevation of four steps.
+Within the seat of the throne is enclosed a rough flat rock--the stone
+of Scone--which many generations of Scottish kings sat on to be crowned,
+and so it in time became holy enough to answer a like purpose for
+English monarchs.  Both the throne and its footstool are covered with
+cloth of gold.
+
+Stillness reigns, the torches blink dully, the time drags heavily.
+But at last the lagging daylight asserts itself, the torches are
+extinguished, and a mellow radiance suffuses the great spaces. All
+features of the noble building are distinct now, but soft and dreamy,
+for the sun is lightly veiled with clouds.
+
+At seven o’clock the first break in the drowsy monotony occurs; for on
+the stroke of this hour the first peeress enters the transept, clothed
+like Solomon for splendour, and is conducted to her appointed place
+by an official clad in satins and velvets, whilst a duplicate of him
+gathers up the lady’s long train, follows after, and, when the lady is
+seated, arranges the train across her lap for her.  He then places her
+footstool according to her desire, after which he puts her coronet where
+it will be convenient to her hand when the time for the simultaneous
+coroneting of the nobles shall arrive.
+
+By this time the peeresses are flowing in in a glittering stream, and
+the satin-clad officials are flitting and glinting everywhere, seating
+them and making them comfortable.  The scene is animated enough now.
+ There is stir and life, and shifting colour everywhere.  After a time,
+quiet reigns again; for the peeresses are all come and are all in their
+places, a solid acre or such a matter, of human flowers, resplendent in
+variegated colours, and frosted like a Milky Way with diamonds.  There
+are all ages here: brown, wrinkled, white-haired dowagers who are able
+to go back, and still back, down the stream of time, and recall the
+crowning of Richard III. and the troublous days of that old forgotten
+age; and there are handsome middle-aged dames; and lovely and gracious
+young matrons; and gentle and beautiful young girls, with beaming eyes
+and fresh complexions, who may possibly put on their jewelled coronets
+awkwardly when the great time comes; for the matter will be new to
+them, and their excitement will be a sore hindrance. Still, this may
+not happen, for the hair of all these ladies has been arranged with a
+special view to the swift and successful lodging of the crown in its
+place when the signal comes.
+
+We have seen that this massed array of peeresses is sown thick with
+diamonds, and we also see that it is a marvellous spectacle--but now we
+are about to be astonished in earnest.  About nine, the clouds suddenly
+break away and a shaft of sunshine cleaves the mellow atmosphere, and
+drifts slowly along the ranks of ladies; and every rank it touches
+flames into a dazzling splendour of many-coloured fires, and we tingle
+to our finger-tips with the electric thrill that is shot through us by
+the surprise and the beauty of the spectacle!  Presently a special envoy
+from some distant corner of the Orient, marching with the general body
+of foreign ambassadors, crosses this bar of sunshine, and we catch our
+breath, the glory that streams and flashes and palpitates about him is
+so overpowering; for he is crusted from head to heel with gems, and his
+slightest movement showers a dancing radiance all around him.
+
+Let us change the tense for convenience.  The time drifted along--one
+hour--two hours--two hours and a half; then the deep booming of
+artillery told that the King and his grand procession had arrived at
+last; so the waiting multitude rejoiced.  All knew that a further delay
+must follow, for the King must be prepared and robed for the solemn
+ceremony; but this delay would be pleasantly occupied by the assembling
+of the peers of the realm in their stately robes.  These were conducted
+ceremoniously to their seats, and their coronets placed conveniently
+at hand; and meanwhile the multitude in the galleries were alive with
+interest, for most of them were beholding for the first time, dukes,
+earls, and barons, whose names had been historical for five hundred
+years.  When all were finally seated, the spectacle from the galleries
+and all coigns of vantage was complete; a gorgeous one to look upon and
+to remember.
+
+Now the robed and mitred great heads of the church, and their
+attendants, filed in upon the platform and took their appointed places;
+these were followed by the Lord Protector and other great officials, and
+these again by a steel-clad detachment of the Guard.
+
+There was a waiting pause; then, at a signal, a triumphant peal of music
+burst forth, and Tom Canty, clothed in a long robe of cloth of gold,
+appeared at a door, and stepped upon the platform.  The entire multitude
+rose, and the ceremony of the Recognition ensued.
+
+Then a noble anthem swept the Abbey with its rich waves of sound; and
+thus heralded and welcomed, Tom Canty was conducted to the throne.
+ The ancient ceremonies went on, with impressive solemnity, whilst the
+audience gazed; and as they drew nearer and nearer to completion, Tom
+Canty grew pale, and still paler, and a deep and steadily deepening woe
+and despondency settled down upon his spirits and upon his remorseful
+heart.
+
+At last the final act was at hand.  The Archbishop of Canterbury lifted
+up the crown of England from its cushion and held it out over the
+trembling mock-King’s head.  In the same instant a rainbow-radiance
+flashed along the spacious transept; for with one impulse every
+individual in the great concourse of nobles lifted a coronet and poised
+it over his or her head--and paused in that attitude.
+
+A deep hush pervaded the Abbey.  At this impressive moment, a startling
+apparition intruded upon the scene--an apparition observed by none in
+the absorbed multitude, until it suddenly appeared, moving up the great
+central aisle.  It was a boy, bareheaded, ill shod, and clothed in
+coarse plebeian garments that were falling to rags.  He raised his hand
+with a solemnity which ill comported with his soiled and sorry aspect,
+and delivered this note of warning--
+
+“I forbid you to set the crown of England upon that forfeited head.  I
+am the King!”
+
+In an instant several indignant hands were laid upon the boy; but in
+the same instant Tom Canty, in his regal vestments, made a swift step
+forward, and cried out in a ringing voice--
+
+“Loose him and forbear!  He _is_ the King!”
+
+A sort of panic of astonishment swept the assemblage, and they partly
+rose in their places and stared in a bewildered way at one another and
+at the chief figures in this scene, like persons who wondered whether
+they were awake and in their senses, or asleep and dreaming.  The Lord
+Protector was as amazed as the rest, but quickly recovered himself, and
+exclaimed in a voice of authority--
+
+“Mind not his Majesty, his malady is upon him again--seize the
+vagabond!”
+
+He would have been obeyed, but the mock-King stamped his foot and cried
+out--
+
+“On your peril!  Touch him not, he is the King!”
+
+The hands were withheld; a paralysis fell upon the house; no one moved,
+no one spoke; indeed, no one knew how to act or what to say, in so
+strange and surprising an emergency.  While all minds were struggling to
+right themselves, the boy still moved steadily forward, with high port
+and confident mien; he had never halted from the beginning; and while
+the tangled minds still floundered helplessly, he stepped upon the
+platform, and the mock-King ran with a glad face to meet him; and fell
+on his knees before him and said--
+
+“Oh, my lord the King, let poor Tom Canty be first to swear fealty to
+thee, and say, ‘Put on thy crown and enter into thine own again!’”
+
+The Lord Protector’s eye fell sternly upon the new-comer’s face; but
+straightway the sternness vanished away, and gave place to an expression
+of wondering surprise.  This thing happened also to the other great
+officers.  They glanced at each other, and retreated a step by a common
+and unconscious impulse.  The thought in each mind was the same:  “What
+a strange resemblance!”
+
+The Lord Protector reflected a moment or two in perplexity, then he
+said, with grave respectfulness--
+
+“By your favour, sir, I desire to ask certain questions which--”
+
+“I will answer them, my lord.”
+
+The Duke asked him many questions about the Court, the late King, the
+prince, the princesses--the boy answered them correctly and without
+hesitating.  He described the rooms of state in the palace, the late
+King’s apartments, and those of the Prince of Wales.
+
+It was strange; it was wonderful; yes, it was unaccountable--so all said
+that heard it.  The tide was beginning to turn, and Tom Canty’s hopes to
+run high, when the Lord Protector shook his head and said--
+
+“It is true it is most wonderful--but it is no more than our lord the
+King likewise can do.”  This remark, and this reference to himself as
+still the King, saddened Tom Canty, and he felt his hopes crumbling from
+under him.  “These are not _proofs_,” added the Protector.
+
+The tide was turning very fast now, very fast indeed--but in the wrong
+direction; it was leaving poor Tom Canty stranded on the throne,
+and sweeping the other out to sea.  The Lord Protector communed with
+himself--shook his head--the thought forced itself upon him, “It is
+perilous to the State and to us all, to entertain so fateful a riddle as
+this; it could divide the nation and undermine the throne.”  He turned
+and said--
+
+“Sir Thomas, arrest this--No, hold!”  His face lighted, and he
+confronted the ragged candidate with this question--
+
+“Where lieth the Great Seal?  Answer me this truly, and the riddle is
+unriddled; for only he that was Prince of Wales _can_ so answer! On so
+trivial a thing hang a throne and a dynasty!”
+
+It was a lucky thought, a happy thought.  That it was so considered by
+the great officials was manifested by the silent applause that shot from
+eye to eye around their circle in the form of bright approving glances.
+Yes, none but the true prince could dissolve the stubborn mystery of the
+vanished Great Seal--this forlorn little impostor had been taught his
+lesson well, but here his teachings must fail, for his teacher himself
+could not answer _that_ question--ah, very good, very good indeed;
+now we shall be rid of this troublesome and perilous business in
+short order! And so they nodded invisibly and smiled inwardly with
+satisfaction, and looked to see this foolish lad stricken with a palsy
+of guilty confusion. How surprised they were, then, to see nothing of
+the sort happen--how they marvelled to hear him answer up promptly, in a
+confident and untroubled voice, and say--
+
+“There is nought in this riddle that is difficult.”  Then, without so
+much as a by-your-leave to anybody, he turned and gave this command,
+with the easy manner of one accustomed to doing such things: “My Lord
+St. John, go you to my private cabinet in the palace--for none knoweth
+the place better than you--and, close down to the floor, in the left
+corner remotest from the door that opens from the ante-chamber, you
+shall find in the wall a brazen nail-head; press upon it and a little
+jewel-closet will fly open which not even you do know of--no, nor
+any soul else in all the world but me and the trusty artisan that did
+contrive it for me. The first thing that falleth under your eye will be
+the Great Seal--fetch it hither.”
+
+All the company wondered at this speech, and wondered still more to see
+the little mendicant pick out this peer without hesitancy or apparent
+fear of mistake, and call him by name with such a placidly convincing
+air of having known him all his life.  The peer was almost surprised
+into obeying.  He even made a movement as if to go, but quickly
+recovered his tranquil attitude and confessed his blunder with a blush.
+ Tom Canty turned upon him and said, sharply--
+
+“Why dost thou hesitate?  Hast not heard the King’s command?  Go!”
+
+The Lord St. John made a deep obeisance--and it was observed that it was
+a significantly cautious and non-committal one, it not being delivered
+at either of the kings, but at the neutral ground about half-way between
+the two--and took his leave.
+
+Now began a movement of the gorgeous particles of that official group
+which was slow, scarcely perceptible, and yet steady and persistent--a
+movement such as is observed in a kaleidoscope that is turned slowly,
+whereby the components of one splendid cluster fall away and join
+themselves to another--a movement which, little by little, in the
+present case, dissolved the glittering crowd that stood about Tom Canty
+and clustered it together again in the neighbourhood of the new-comer.
+ Tom Canty stood almost alone. Now ensued a brief season of deep
+suspense and waiting--during which even the few faint hearts still
+remaining near Tom Canty gradually scraped together courage enough to
+glide, one by one, over to the majority.  So at last Tom Canty, in his
+royal robes and jewels, stood wholly alone and isolated from the world,
+a conspicuous figure, occupying an eloquent vacancy.
+
+Now the Lord St. John was seen returning.  As he advanced up
+the mid-aisle the interest was so intense that the low murmur of
+conversation in the great assemblage died out and was succeeded by
+a profound hush, a breathless stillness, through which his footfalls
+pulsed with a dull and distant sound.  Every eye was fastened upon him
+as he moved along.  He reached the platform, paused a moment, then moved
+toward Tom Canty with a deep obeisance, and said--
+
+“Sire, the Seal is not there!”
+
+A mob does not melt away from the presence of a plague-patient with more
+haste than the band of pallid and terrified courtiers melted away from
+the presence of the shabby little claimant of the Crown.  In a moment
+he stood all alone, without friend or supporter, a target upon which
+was concentrated a bitter fire of scornful and angry looks.  The Lord
+Protector called out fiercely--
+
+“Cast the beggar into the street, and scourge him through the town--the
+paltry knave is worth no more consideration!”
+
+Officers of the guard sprang forward to obey, but Tom Canty waved them
+off and said--
+
+“Back!  Whoso touches him perils his life!”
+
+The Lord Protector was perplexed in the last degree.  He said to the
+Lord St. John--
+
+“Searched you well?--but it boots not to ask that.  It doth seem passing
+strange.  Little things, trifles, slip out of one’s ken, and one does
+not think it matter for surprise; but how so bulky a thing as the
+Seal of England can vanish away and no man be able to get track of it
+again--a massy golden disk--”
+
+Tom Canty, with beaming eyes, sprang forward and shouted--
+
+“Hold, that is enough!  Was it round?--and thick?--and had it letters
+and devices graved upon it?--yes?  Oh, _now_ I know what this Great Seal
+is that there’s been such worry and pother about. An’ ye had described
+it to me, ye could have had it three weeks ago.  Right well I know where
+it lies; but it was not I that put it there--first.”
+
+“Who, then, my liege?” asked the Lord Protector.
+
+“He that stands there--the rightful King of England.  And he shall tell
+you himself where it lies--then you will believe he knew it of his own
+knowledge.  Bethink thee, my King--spur thy memory--it was the last, the
+very _last_ thing thou didst that day before thou didst rush forth from
+the palace, clothed in my rags, to punish the soldier that insulted me.”
+
+A silence ensued, undisturbed by a movement or a whisper, and all eyes
+were fixed upon the new-comer, who stood, with bent head and corrugated
+brow, groping in his memory among a thronging multitude of valueless
+recollections for one single little elusive fact, which, found, would
+seat him upon a throne--unfound, would leave him as he was, for good and
+all--a pauper and an outcast.  Moment after moment passed--the moments
+built themselves into minutes--still the boy struggled silently on, and
+gave no sign.  But at last he heaved a sigh, shook his head slowly, and
+said, with a trembling lip and in a despondent voice--
+
+“I call the scene back--all of it--but the Seal hath no place in it.”
+  He paused, then looked up, and said with gentle dignity, “My lords and
+gentlemen, if ye will rob your rightful sovereign of his own for lack of
+this evidence which he is not able to furnish, I may not stay ye, being
+powerless.  But--”
+
+“Oh, folly, oh, madness, my King!” cried Tom Canty, in a panic,
+“wait!--think!  Do not give up!--the cause is not lost!  Nor _shall_ be,
+neither! List to what I say--follow every word--I am going to bring that
+morning back again, every hap just as it happened.  We talked--I told
+you of my sisters, Nan and Bet--ah, yes, you remember that; and about
+mine old grandam--and the rough games of the lads of Offal Court--yes,
+you remember these things also; very well, follow me still, you shall
+recall everything.  You gave me food and drink, and did with princely
+courtesy send away the servants, so that my low breeding might not shame
+me before them--ah, yes, this also you remember.”
+
+As Tom checked off his details, and the other boy nodded his head in
+recognition of them, the great audience and the officials stared in
+puzzled wonderment; the tale sounded like true history, yet how could
+this impossible conjunction between a prince and a beggar-boy have come
+about?  Never was a company of people so perplexed, so interested, and
+so stupefied, before.
+
+“For a jest, my prince, we did exchange garments.  Then we stood before
+a mirror; and so alike were we that both said it seemed as if there had
+been no change made--yes, you remember that.  Then you noticed that the
+soldier had hurt my hand--look! here it is, I cannot yet even write with
+it, the fingers are so stiff.  At this your Highness sprang up, vowing
+vengeance upon that soldier, and ran towards the door--you passed a
+table--that thing you call the Seal lay on that table--you snatched
+it up and looked eagerly about, as if for a place to hide it--your eye
+caught sight of--”
+
+“There, ’tis sufficient!--and the good God be thanked!” exclaimed the
+ragged claimant, in a mighty excitement.  “Go, my good St. John--in an
+arm-piece of the Milanese armour that hangs on the wall, thou’lt find
+the Seal!”
+
+“Right, my King! right!” cried Tom Canty; “_Now_ the sceptre of England
+is thine own; and it were better for him that would dispute it that he
+had been born dumb!  Go, my Lord St. John, give thy feet wings!”
+
+The whole assemblage was on its feet now, and well-nigh out of its mind
+with uneasiness, apprehension, and consuming excitement.  On the floor
+and on the platform a deafening buzz of frantic conversation burst
+forth, and for some time nobody knew anything or heard anything or was
+interested in anything but what his neighbour was shouting into his ear,
+or he was shouting into his neighbour’s ear.  Time--nobody knew how much
+of it--swept by unheeded and unnoted.  At last a sudden hush fell upon
+the house, and in the same moment St. John appeared upon the platform,
+and held the Great Seal aloft in his hand.  Then such a shout went up--
+
+“Long live the true King!”
+
+For five minutes the air quaked with shouts and the crash of musical
+instruments, and was white with a storm of waving handkerchiefs; and
+through it all a ragged lad, the most conspicuous figure in England,
+stood, flushed and happy and proud, in the centre of the spacious
+platform, with the great vassals of the kingdom kneeling around him.
+
+Then all rose, and Tom Canty cried out--
+
+“Now, O my King, take these regal garments back, and give poor Tom, thy
+servant, his shreds and remnants again.”
+
+The Lord Protector spoke up--
+
+“Let the small varlet be stripped and flung into the Tower.”
+
+But the new King, the true King, said--
+
+“I will not have it so.  But for him I had not got my crown again--none
+shall lay a hand upon him to harm him.  And as for thee, my good uncle,
+my Lord Protector, this conduct of thine is not grateful toward
+this poor lad, for I hear he hath made thee a duke”--the Protector
+blushed--“yet he was not a king; wherefore what is thy fine title
+worth now?  To-morrow you shall sue to me, _through him_, for its
+confirmation, else no duke, but a simple earl, shalt thou remain.”
+
+Under this rebuke, his Grace the Duke of Somerset retired a little from
+the front for the moment.  The King turned to Tom, and said kindly--“My
+poor boy, how was it that you could remember where I hid the Seal when I
+could not remember it myself?”
+
+“Ah, my King, that was easy, since I used it divers days.”
+
+“Used it--yet could not explain where it was?”
+
+“I did not know it was _that_ they wanted.  They did not describe it,
+your Majesty.”
+
+“Then how used you it?”
+
+The red blood began to steal up into Tom’s cheeks, and he dropped his
+eyes and was silent.
+
+“Speak up, good lad, and fear nothing,” said the King.  “How used you
+the Great Seal of England?”
+
+Tom stammered a moment, in a pathetic confusion, then got it out--
+
+“To crack nuts with!”
+
+Poor child, the avalanche of laughter that greeted this nearly swept him
+off his feet.  But if a doubt remained in any mind that Tom Canty was
+not the King of England and familiar with the august appurtenances of
+royalty, this reply disposed of it utterly.
+
+Meantime the sumptuous robe of state had been removed from Tom’s
+shoulders to the King’s, whose rags were effectually hidden from sight
+under it.  Then the coronation ceremonies were resumed; the true King
+was anointed and the crown set upon his head, whilst cannon thundered
+the news to the city, and all London seemed to rock with applause.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII. Edward as King.
+
+Miles Hendon was picturesque enough before he got into the riot on
+London Bridge--he was more so when he got out of it.  He had but little
+money when he got in, none at all when he got out.  The pickpockets had
+stripped him of his last farthing.
+
+But no matter, so he found his boy.  Being a soldier, he did not go at
+his task in a random way, but set to work, first of all, to arrange his
+campaign.
+
+What would the boy naturally do?  Where would he naturally go?
+Well--argued Miles--he would naturally go to his former haunts, for that
+is the instinct of unsound minds, when homeless and forsaken, as well
+as of sound ones.  Whereabouts were his former haunts?  His rags,
+taken together with the low villain who seemed to know him and who even
+claimed to be his father, indicated that his home was in one or another
+of the poorest and meanest districts of London.  Would the search for
+him be difficult, or long?  No, it was likely to be easy and brief.  He
+would not hunt for the boy, he would hunt for a crowd; in the centre of
+a big crowd or a little one, sooner or later, he should find his poor
+little friend, sure; and the mangy mob would be entertaining itself
+with pestering and aggravating the boy, who would be proclaiming himself
+King, as usual.  Then Miles Hendon would cripple some of those people,
+and carry off his little ward, and comfort and cheer him with loving
+words, and the two would never be separated any more.
+
+So Miles started on his quest.  Hour after hour he tramped through back
+alleys and squalid streets, seeking groups and crowds, and finding no
+end of them, but never any sign of the boy.  This greatly surprised him,
+but did not discourage him.  To his notion, there was nothing the matter
+with his plan of campaign; the only miscalculation about it was that the
+campaign was becoming a lengthy one, whereas he had expected it to be
+short.
+
+When daylight arrived, at last, he had made many a mile, and canvassed
+many a crowd, but the only result was that he was tolerably tired,
+rather hungry and very sleepy.  He wanted some breakfast, but there was
+no way to get it.  To beg for it did not occur to him; as to pawning
+his sword, he would as soon have thought of parting with his honour;
+he could spare some of his clothes--yes, but one could as easily find a
+customer for a disease as for such clothes.
+
+At noon he was still tramping--among the rabble which followed after
+the royal procession, now; for he argued that this regal display would
+attract his little lunatic powerfully.  He followed the pageant through
+all its devious windings about London, and all the way to Westminster
+and the Abbey.  He drifted here and there amongst the multitudes
+that were massed in the vicinity for a weary long time, baffled and
+perplexed, and finally wandered off, thinking, and trying to contrive
+some way to better his plan of campaign.  By-and-by, when he came to
+himself out of his musings, he discovered that the town was far behind
+him and that the day was growing old.  He was near the river, and in the
+country; it was a region of fine rural seats--not the sort of district
+to welcome clothes like his.
+
+It was not at all cold; so he stretched himself on the ground in the lee
+of a hedge to rest and think.  Drowsiness presently began to settle upon
+his senses; the faint and far-off boom of cannon was wafted to his ear,
+and he said to himself, “The new King is crowned,” and straightway fell
+asleep.  He had not slept or rested, before, for more than thirty hours.
+He did not wake again until near the middle of the next morning.
+
+He got up, lame, stiff, and half famished, washed himself in the river,
+stayed his stomach with a pint or two of water, and trudged off toward
+Westminster, grumbling at himself for having wasted so much time.
+ Hunger helped him to a new plan, now; he would try to get speech with
+old Sir Humphrey Marlow and borrow a few marks, and--but that was enough
+of a plan for the present; it would be time enough to enlarge it when
+this first stage should be accomplished.
+
+Toward eleven o’clock he approached the palace; and although a host of
+showy people were about him, moving in the same direction, he was not
+inconspicuous--his costume took care of that.  He watched these people’s
+faces narrowly, hoping to find a charitable one whose possessor might
+be willing to carry his name to the old lieutenant--as to trying to get
+into the palace himself, that was simply out of the question.
+
+Presently our whipping-boy passed him, then wheeled about and scanned
+his figure well, saying to himself, “An’ that is not the very vagabond
+his Majesty is in such a worry about, then am I an ass--though belike I
+was that before.  He answereth the description to a rag--that God should
+make two such would be to cheapen miracles by wasteful repetition.  I
+would I could contrive an excuse to speak with him.”
+
+Miles Hendon saved him the trouble; for he turned about, then, as a man
+generally will when somebody mesmerises him by gazing hard at him from
+behind; and observing a strong interest in the boy’s eyes, he stepped
+toward him and said--
+
+“You have just come out from the palace; do you belong there?”
+
+“Yes, your worship.”
+
+“Know you Sir Humphrey Marlow?”
+
+The boy started, and said to himself, “Lord! mine old departed father!”
+ Then he answered aloud, “Right well, your worship.”
+
+“Good--is he within?”
+
+“Yes,” said the boy; and added, to himself, “within his grave.”
+
+“Might I crave your favour to carry my name to him, and say I beg to say
+a word in his ear?”
+
+“I will despatch the business right willingly, fair sir.”
+
+“Then say Miles Hendon, son of Sir Richard, is here without--I shall be
+greatly bounden to you, my good lad.”
+
+The boy looked disappointed.  “The King did not name him so,” he said to
+himself; “but it mattereth not, this is his twin brother, and can give
+his Majesty news of t’other Sir-Odds-and-Ends, I warrant.”  So he said
+to Miles, “Step in there a moment, good sir, and wait till I bring you
+word.”
+
+Hendon retired to the place indicated--it was a recess sunk in the
+palace wall, with a stone bench in it--a shelter for sentinels in bad
+weather. He had hardly seated himself when some halberdiers, in charge
+of an officer, passed by.  The officer saw him, halted his men, and
+commanded Hendon to come forth.  He obeyed, and was promptly arrested
+as a suspicious character prowling within the precincts of the palace.
+ Things began to look ugly.  Poor Miles was going to explain, but the
+officer roughly silenced him, and ordered his men to disarm him and
+search him.
+
+“God of his mercy grant that they find somewhat,” said poor Miles; “I
+have searched enow, and failed, yet is my need greater than theirs.”
+
+Nothing was found but a document.  The officer tore it open, and Hendon
+smiled when he recognised the ‘pot-hooks’ made by his lost little friend
+that black day at Hendon Hall.  The officer’s face grew dark as he read
+the English paragraph, and Miles blenched to the opposite colour as he
+listened.
+
+“Another new claimant of the Crown!” cried the officer.  “Verily they
+breed like rabbits, to-day.  Seize the rascal, men, and see ye keep
+him fast whilst I convey this precious paper within and send it to the
+King.”
+
+He hurried away, leaving the prisoner in the grip of the halberdiers.
+
+“Now is my evil luck ended at last,” muttered Hendon, “for I shall
+dangle at a rope’s end for a certainty, by reason of that bit of
+writing.  And what will become of my poor lad!--ah, only the good God
+knoweth.”
+
+By-and-by he saw the officer coming again, in a great hurry; so he
+plucked his courage together, purposing to meet his trouble as became a
+man.  The officer ordered the men to loose the prisoner and return his
+sword to him; then bowed respectfully, and said--
+
+“Please you, sir, to follow me.”
+
+Hendon followed, saying to himself, “An’ I were not travelling to death
+and judgment, and so must needs economise in sin, I would throttle this
+knave for his mock courtesy.”
+
+The two traversed a populous court, and arrived at the grand entrance of
+the palace, where the officer, with another bow, delivered Hendon into
+the hands of a gorgeous official, who received him with profound respect
+and led him forward through a great hall, lined on both sides with rows
+of splendid flunkeys (who made reverential obeisance as the two passed
+along, but fell into death-throes of silent laughter at our stately
+scarecrow the moment his back was turned), and up a broad staircase,
+among flocks of fine folk, and finally conducted him into a vast room,
+clove a passage for him through the assembled nobility of England, then
+made a bow, reminded him to take his hat off, and left him standing in
+the middle of the room, a mark for all eyes, for plenty of indignant
+frowns, and for a sufficiency of amused and derisive smiles.
+
+Miles Hendon was entirely bewildered.  There sat the young King, under
+a canopy of state, five steps away, with his head bent down and aside,
+speaking with a sort of human bird of paradise--a duke, maybe.  Hendon
+observed to himself that it was hard enough to be sentenced to death
+in the full vigour of life, without having this peculiarly public
+humiliation added.  He wished the King would hurry about it--some of the
+gaudy people near by were becoming pretty offensive.  At this moment
+the King raised his head slightly, and Hendon caught a good view of his
+face. The sight nearly took his breath away!--He stood gazing at the
+fair young face like one transfixed; then presently ejaculated--
+
+“Lo, the Lord of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows on his throne!”
+
+He muttered some broken sentences, still gazing and marvelling; then
+turned his eyes around and about, scanning the gorgeous throng and the
+splendid saloon, murmuring, “But these are _real_--verily these are
+_real_--surely it is not a dream.”
+
+He stared at the King again--and thought, “_Is_ it a dream . . . or _is_
+he the veritable Sovereign of England, and not the friendless poor Tom
+o’ Bedlam I took him for--who shall solve me this riddle?”
+
+A sudden idea flashed in his eye, and he strode to the wall, gathered up
+a chair, brought it back, planted it on the floor, and sat down in it!
+
+A buzz of indignation broke out, a rough hand was laid upon him and a
+voice exclaimed--
+
+“Up, thou mannerless clown! would’st sit in the presence of the King?”
+
+The disturbance attracted his Majesty’s attention, who stretched forth
+his hand and cried out--
+
+“Touch him not, it is his right!”
+
+The throng fell back, stupefied.  The King went on--
+
+“Learn ye all, ladies, lords, and gentlemen, that this is my trusty and
+well-beloved servant, Miles Hendon, who interposed his good sword and
+saved his prince from bodily harm and possible death--and for this he is
+a knight, by the King’s voice.  Also learn, that for a higher service,
+in that he saved his sovereign stripes and shame, taking these upon
+himself, he is a peer of England, Earl of Kent, and shall have gold
+and lands meet for the dignity.  More--the privilege which he hath just
+exercised is his by royal grant; for we have ordained that the chiefs
+of his line shall have and hold the right to sit in the presence of the
+Majesty of England henceforth, age after age, so long as the crown shall
+endure.  Molest him not.”
+
+Two persons, who, through delay, had only arrived from the country
+during this morning, and had now been in this room only five minutes,
+stood listening to these words and looking at the King, then at the
+scarecrow, then at the King again, in a sort of torpid bewilderment.
+ These were Sir Hugh and the Lady Edith.  But the new Earl did not
+see them.  He was still staring at the monarch, in a dazed way, and
+muttering--
+
+“Oh, body o’ me!  _this_ my pauper!  This my lunatic!  This is he whom
+_I_ would show what grandeur was, in my house of seventy rooms and
+seven-and-twenty servants!  This is he who had never known aught but
+rags for raiment, kicks for comfort, and offal for diet!  This is he
+whom _I_ adopted and would make respectable! Would God I had a bag to
+hide my head in!”
+
+Then his manners suddenly came back to him, and he dropped upon his
+knees, with his hands between the King’s, and swore allegiance and did
+homage for his lands and titles.  Then he rose and stood respectfully
+aside, a mark still for all eyes--and much envy, too.
+
+Now the King discovered Sir Hugh, and spoke out with wrathful voice and
+kindling eye--
+
+“Strip this robber of his false show and stolen estates, and put him
+under lock and key till I have need of him.”
+
+The late Sir Hugh was led away.
+
+There was a stir at the other end of the room, now; the assemblage fell
+apart, and Tom Canty, quaintly but richly clothed, marched down, between
+these living walls, preceded by an usher.  He knelt before the King, who
+said--
+
+“I have learned the story of these past few weeks, and am well pleased
+with thee.  Thou hast governed the realm with right royal gentleness and
+mercy.  Thou hast found thy mother and thy sisters again?  Good; they
+shall be cared for--and thy father shall hang, if thou desire it and the
+law consent.  Know, all ye that hear my voice, that from this day, they
+that abide in the shelter of Christ’s Hospital and share the King’s
+bounty shall have their minds and hearts fed, as well as their baser
+parts; and this boy shall dwell there, and hold the chief place in its
+honourable body of governors, during life.  And for that he hath been
+a king, it is meet that other than common observance shall be his due;
+wherefore note this his dress of state, for by it he shall be known, and
+none shall copy it; and wheresoever he shall come, it shall remind the
+people that he hath been royal, in his time, and none shall deny him his
+due of reverence or fail to give him salutation.  He hath the throne’s
+protection, he hath the crown’s support, he shall be known and called by
+the honourable title of the King’s Ward.”
+
+The proud and happy Tom Canty rose and kissed the King’s hand, and was
+conducted from the presence.  He did not waste any time, but flew to his
+mother, to tell her and Nan and Bet all about it and get them to help
+him enjoy the great news. {1}
+
+Conclusion. Justice and retribution.
+
+When the mysteries were all cleared up, it came out, by confession of
+Hugh Hendon, that his wife had repudiated Miles by his command, that
+day at Hendon Hall--a command assisted and supported by the perfectly
+trustworthy promise that if she did not deny that he was Miles Hendon,
+and stand firmly to it, he would have her life; whereupon she said,
+“Take it!”--she did not value it--and she would not repudiate
+Miles; then the husband said he would spare her life but have Miles
+assassinated!  This was a different matter; so she gave her word and
+kept it.
+
+Hugh was not prosecuted for his threats or for stealing his brother’s
+estates and title, because the wife and brother would not testify
+against him--and the former would not have been allowed to do it, even
+if she had wanted to.  Hugh deserted his wife and went over to the
+continent, where he presently died; and by-and-by the Earl of Kent
+married his relict. There were grand times and rejoicings at Hendon
+village when the couple paid their first visit to the Hall.
+
+Tom Canty’s father was never heard of again.
+
+The King sought out the farmer who had been branded and sold as a slave,
+and reclaimed him from his evil life with the Ruffler’s gang, and put
+him in the way of a comfortable livelihood.
+
+He also took that old lawyer out of prison and remitted his fine. He
+provided good homes for the daughters of the two Baptist women whom he
+saw burned at the stake, and roundly punished the official who laid the
+undeserved stripes upon Miles Hendon’s back.
+
+He saved from the gallows the boy who had captured the stray falcon, and
+also the woman who had stolen a remnant of cloth from a weaver; but he
+was too late to save the man who had been convicted of killing a deer in
+the royal forest.
+
+He showed favour to the justice who had pitied him when he was supposed
+to have stolen a pig, and he had the gratification of seeing him grow in
+the public esteem and become a great and honoured man.
+
+As long as the King lived he was fond of telling the story of his
+adventures, all through, from the hour that the sentinel cuffed him
+away from the palace gate till the final midnight when he deftly mixed
+himself into a gang of hurrying workmen and so slipped into the Abbey
+and climbed up and hid himself in the Confessor’s tomb, and then slept
+so long, next day, that he came within one of missing the Coronation
+altogether.  He said that the frequent rehearsing of the precious lesson
+kept him strong in his purpose to make its teachings yield benefits to
+his people; and so, whilst his life was spared he should continue to
+tell the story, and thus keep its sorrowful spectacles fresh in his
+memory and the springs of pity replenished in his heart.
+
+Miles Hendon and Tom Canty were favourites of the King, all through his
+brief reign, and his sincere mourners when he died. The good Earl
+of Kent had too much sense to abuse his peculiar privilege; but he
+exercised it twice after the instance we have seen of it before he was
+called from this world--once at the accession of Queen Mary, and once at
+the accession of Queen Elizabeth.  A descendant of his exercised it
+at the accession of James I.  Before this one’s son chose to use the
+privilege, near a quarter of a century had elapsed, and the ‘privilege
+of the Kents’ had faded out of most people’s memories; so, when the Kent
+of that day appeared before Charles I. and his court and sat down in the
+sovereign’s presence to assert and perpetuate the right of his house,
+there was a fine stir indeed!  But the matter was soon explained, and
+the right confirmed.  The last Earl of the line fell in the wars of the
+Commonwealth fighting for the King, and the odd privilege ended with
+him.
+
+Tom Canty lived to be a very old man, a handsome, white-haired old
+fellow, of grave and benignant aspect.  As long as he lasted he was
+honoured; and he was also reverenced, for his striking and peculiar
+costume kept the people reminded that ‘in his time he had been royal;’
+so, wherever he appeared the crowd fell apart, making way for him, and
+whispering, one to another, “Doff thy hat, it is the King’s Ward!”--and
+so they saluted, and got his kindly smile in return--and they valued it,
+too, for his was an honourable history.
+
+Yes, King Edward VI. lived only a few years, poor boy, but he lived them
+worthily.  More than once, when some great dignitary, some gilded vassal
+of the crown, made argument against his leniency, and urged that some
+law which he was bent upon amending was gentle enough for its purpose,
+and wrought no suffering or oppression which any one need mightily mind,
+the young King turned the mournful eloquence of his great compassionate
+eyes upon him and answered--
+
+“What dost _thou_ know of suffering and oppression?  I and my people
+know, but not thou.”
+
+The reign of Edward VI. was a singularly merciful one for those harsh
+times.  Now that we are taking leave of him, let us try to keep this in
+our minds, to his credit.
+
+FOOTNOTES AND TWAIN’S NOTES
+
+{1}  For Mark Twain’s note see below under the relevant chapter heading.
+
+{2}  He refers to the order of baronets, or baronettes; the barones
+minores, as distinct from the parliamentary barons--not, it need hardly
+be said, to the baronets of later creation.
+
+{3}  The lords of Kingsale, descendants of De Courcy, still enjoy this
+curious privilege.
+
+{4}  Hume.
+
+{5}  Ib.
+
+{6}  Leigh Hunt’s ‘The Town,’ p.408, quotation from an early tourist.
+
+{7}  Canting terms for various kinds of thieves, beggars and vagabonds,
+and their female companions.
+
+{8}  From ‘The English Rogue.’  London, 1665.
+
+{9}  Hume’s England.
+
+{10}  See Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull’s Blue Laws, True and False, p. 11.
+
+NOTE 1, Chapter IV. Christ’s Hospital Costume.
+
+It is most reasonable to regard the dress as copied from the costume
+of the citizens of London of that period, when long blue coats were the
+common habit of apprentices and serving-men, and yellow stockings
+were generally worn; the coat fits closely to the body, but has loose
+sleeves, and beneath is worn a sleeveless yellow under-coat; around the
+waist is a red leathern girdle; a clerical band around the neck, and
+a small flat black cap, about the size of a saucer, completes the
+costume.--Timbs’ Curiosities of London.
+
+NOTE 2, Chapter IV.
+
+It appears that Christ’s Hospital was not originally founded as a
+_school_; its object was to rescue children from the streets, to
+shelter, feed, clothe them.--Timbs’ Curiosities of London.
+
+NOTE 3, Chapter V. The Duke of Norfolk’s Condemnation commanded.
+
+The King was now approaching fast towards his end; and fearing lest
+Norfolk should escape him, he sent a message to the Commons, by which
+he desired them to hasten the Bill, on pretence that Norfolk enjoyed the
+dignity of Earl Marshal, and it was necessary to appoint another, who
+might officiate at the ensuing ceremony of installing his son Prince of
+Wales.--Hume’s History of England, vol. iii. p. 307.
+
+NOTE 4, Chapter VII.
+
+It was not till the end of this reign (Henry VIII.) that any salads,
+carrots, turnips, or other edible roots were produced in England.  The
+little of these vegetables that was used was formerly imported from
+Holland and Flanders.  Queen Catherine, when she wanted a salad, was
+obliged to despatch a messenger thither on purpose.--Hume’s History of
+England, vol. iii. p. 314.
+
+NOTE 5, Chapter VIII. Attainder of Norfolk.
+
+The House of Peers, without examining the prisoner, without trial or
+evidence, passed a Bill of Attainder against him and sent it down to the
+Commons . . . The obsequious Commons obeyed his (the King’s)
+directions; and the King, having affixed the Royal assent to the Bill by
+commissioners, issued orders for the execution of Norfolk on the morning
+of January 29 (the next day).--Hume’s History of England, vol iii. p
+306.
+
+NOTE 6, Chapter X. The Loving-cup.
+
+The loving-cup, and the peculiar ceremonies observed in drinking from
+it, are older than English history.  It is thought that both are Danish
+importations.  As far back as knowledge goes, the loving-cup has always
+been drunk at English banquets.  Tradition explains the ceremonies in
+this way.  In the rude ancient times it was deemed a wise precaution
+to have both hands of both drinkers employed, lest while the pledger
+pledged his love and fidelity to the pledgee, the pledgee take that
+opportunity to slip a dirk into him!
+
+NOTE 7, Chapter XI. The Duke of Norfolk’s narrow Escape.
+
+Had Henry VIII. survived a few hours longer, his order for the duke’s
+execution would have been carried into effect. ‘But news being
+carried to the Tower that the King himself had expired that night,
+the lieutenant deferred obeying the warrant; and it was not thought
+advisable by the Council to begin a new reign by the death of the
+greatest nobleman in the kingdom, who had been condemned by a sentence
+so unjust and tyrannical.’--Hume’s History of England, vol. iii, p. 307.
+
+NOTE 8, Chapter XIV. The Whipping-boy.
+
+James I. and Charles II. had whipping-boys, when they were little
+fellows, to take their punishment for them when they fell short in their
+lessons; so I have ventured to furnish my small prince with one, for my
+own purposes.
+
+NOTES to Chapter XV.
+
+Character of Hertford.
+
+The young King discovered an extreme attachment to his uncle, who
+was, in the main, a man of moderation and probity.--Hume’s History of
+England, vol. iii, p324.
+
+But if he (the Protector) gave offence by assuming too much state, he
+deserves great praise on account of the laws passed this session,
+by which the rigour of former statutes was much mitigated, and some
+security given to the freedom of the constitution.  All laws were
+repealed which extended the crime of treason beyond the statute of the
+twenty-fifth of Edward III.; all laws enacted during the late reign
+extending the crime of felony; all the former laws against Lollardy or
+heresy, together with the statute of the Six Articles.  None were to be
+accused for words, but within a month after they were spoken.  By
+these repeals several of the most rigorous laws that ever had passed
+in England were annulled; and some dawn, both of civil and religious
+liberty, began to appear to the people.  A repeal also passed of that
+law, the destruction of all laws, by which the King’s proclamation was
+made of equal force with a statute.--Ibid. vol. iii. p. 339.
+
+Boiling to Death.
+
+In the reign of Henry VIII. poisoners were, by Act of Parliament,
+condemned to be _boiled to death_.  This Act was repealed in the
+following reign.
+
+In Germany, even in the seventeenth century, this horrible punishment
+was inflicted on coiners and counterfeiters.  Taylor, the Water Poet,
+describes an execution he witnessed in Hamburg in 1616.  The judgment
+pronounced against a coiner of false money was that he should ‘_be
+boiled to death in oil_; not thrown into the vessel at once, but with
+a pulley or rope to be hanged under the armpits, and then let down into
+the oil _by degrees_; first the feet, and next the legs, and so to boil
+his flesh from his bones alive.’--Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull’s Blue Laws,
+True and False, p. 13.
+
+The Famous Stocking Case.
+
+A woman and her daughter, _nine years old_, were hanged in Huntingdon
+for selling their souls to the devil, and raising a storm by pulling off
+their stockings!--Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull’s Blue Laws, True and False,
+p. 20.
+
+NOTE 10, Chapter XVII. Enslaving.
+
+So young a King and so ignorant a peasant were likely to make mistakes;
+and this is an instance in point.  This peasant was suffering from this
+law _by anticipation_; the King was venting his indignation against a
+law which was not yet in existence; for this hideous statute was to
+have birth in this little King’s _own reign_. However, we know, from the
+humanity of his character, that it could never have been suggested by
+him.
+
+NOTES to Chapter XXIII. Death for Trifling Larcenies.
+
+When Connecticut and New Haven were framing their first codes, larceny
+above the value of twelve pence was a capital crime in England--as it
+had been since the time of Henry I.--Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull’s Blue
+Laws, True and False, p. 17.
+
+The curious old book called The English Rogue makes the limit thirteen
+pence ha’penny:  death being the portion of any who steal a thing ‘above
+the value of thirteen pence ha’penny.’
+
+NOTES to Chapter XXVII.
+
+From many descriptions of larceny the law expressly took away the
+benefit of clergy:  to steal a horse, or a _hawk_, or woollen cloth from
+the weaver, was a hanging matter.  So it was to kill a deer from the
+King’s forest, or to export sheep from the kingdom.--Dr. J. Hammond
+Trumbull’s Blue Laws, True and False, p.13.
+
+William Prynne, a learned barrister, was sentenced (long after Edward
+VI.’s time) to lose both his ears in the pillory, to degradation from
+the bar, a fine of 3,000 pounds, and imprisonment for life.  Three years
+afterwards he gave new offence to Laud by publishing a pamphlet against
+the hierarchy.  He was again prosecuted, and was sentenced to lose _what
+remained of his ears_, to pay a fine of 5,000 pounds, to be _branded on
+both his cheeks_ with the letters S. L. (for Seditious Libeller), and to
+remain in prison for life.  The severity of this sentence was equalled
+by the savage rigour of its execution.--Ibid. p. 12.
+
+NOTES to Chapter XXXIII.
+
+Christ’s Hospital, or Bluecoat School, ’the noblest institution in the
+world.’
+
+The ground on which the Priory of the Grey Friars stood was conferred
+by Henry VIII. on the Corporation of London (who caused the institution
+there of a home for poor boys and girls). Subsequently, Edward VI.
+caused the old Priory to be properly repaired, and founded within
+it that noble establishment called the Bluecoat School, or Christ’s
+Hospital, for the _education_ and maintenance of orphans and the
+children of indigent persons . . . Edward would not let him (Bishop
+Ridley) depart till the letter was written (to the Lord Mayor), and then
+charged him to deliver it himself, and signify his special request and
+commandment that no time might be lost in proposing what was convenient,
+and apprising him of the proceedings.  The work was zealously
+undertaken, Ridley himself engaging in it; and the result was the
+founding of Christ’s Hospital for the education of poor children. (The
+King endowed several other charities at the same time.) “Lord God,” said
+he, “I yield Thee most hearty thanks that Thou hast given me life thus
+long to finish this work to the glory of Thy name!”  That innocent and
+most exemplary life was drawing rapidly to its close, and in a few days
+he rendered up his spirit to his Creator, praying God to defend the
+realm from Papistry.--J. Heneage Jesse’s London:  its Celebrated
+Characters and Places.
+
+In the Great Hall hangs a large picture of King Edward VI. seated on his
+throne, in a scarlet and ermined robe, holding the sceptre in his left
+hand, and presenting with the other the Charter to the kneeling Lord
+Mayor.  By his side stands the Chancellor, holding the seals, and next
+to him are other officers of state.  Bishop Ridley kneels before him
+with uplifted hands, as if supplicating a blessing on the event; whilst
+the Aldermen, etc., with the Lord Mayor, kneel on both sides, occupying
+the middle ground of the picture; and lastly, in front, are a double row
+of boys on one side and girls on the other, from the master and matron
+down to the boy and girl who have stepped forward from their respective
+rows, and kneel with raised hands before the King.--Timbs’ Curiosities
+of London, p. 98.
+
+Christ’s Hospital, by ancient custom, possesses the privilege of
+addressing the Sovereign on the occasion of his or her coming into the
+City to partake of the hospitality of the Corporation of London.--Ibid.
+
+The Dining Hall, with its lobby and organ-gallery, occupies the entire
+storey, which is 187 feet long, 51 feet wide, and 47 feet high; it is
+lit by nine large windows, filled with stained glass on the south side;
+and is, next to Westminster Hall, the noblest room in the metropolis.
+ Here the boys, now about 800 in number, dine; and here are held the
+‘Suppings in Public,’ to which visitors are admitted by tickets issued
+by the Treasurer and by the Governors of Christ’s Hospital.  The tables
+are laid with cheese in wooden bowls, beer in wooden piggins, poured
+from leathern jacks, and bread brought in large baskets.  The official
+company enter; the Lord Mayor, or President, takes his seat in a state
+chair made of oak from St. Catherine’s Church, by the Tower; a hymn
+is sung, accompanied by the organ; a ‘Grecian,’ or head boy, reads the
+prayers from the pulpit, silence being enforced by three drops of a
+wooden hammer.  After prayer the supper commences, and the visitors walk
+between the tables.  At its close the ’trade-boys’ take up the baskets,
+bowls, jacks, piggins, and candlesticks, and pass in procession, the
+bowing to the Governors being curiously formal.  This spectacle was
+witnessed by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in 1845.
+
+Among the more eminent Bluecoat boys are Joshua Barnes, editor
+of Anacreon and Euripides; Jeremiah Markland, the eminent critic,
+particularly in Greek Literature; Camden, the antiquary; Bishop
+Stillingfleet; Samuel Richardson, the novelist; Thomas Mitchell, the
+translator of Aristophanes; Thomas Barnes, many years editor of the
+London Times; Coleridge, Charles Lamb, and Leigh Hunt.
+
+No boy is admitted before he is seven years old, or after he is nine;
+and no boy can remain in the school after he is fifteen, King’s boys and
+‘Grecians’ alone excepted.  There are about 500 Governors, at the head
+of whom are the Sovereign and the Prince of Wales.  The qualification
+for a Governor is payment of 500 pounds.--Ibid.
+
+GENERAL NOTE.
+
+One hears much about the ‘hideous Blue Laws of Connecticut,’ and is
+accustomed to shudder piously when they are mentioned.  There are people
+in America--and even in England!--who imagine that they were a very
+monument of malignity, pitilessness, and inhumanity; whereas in reality
+they were about the first _sweeping departure from judicial atrocity_
+which the ‘civilised’ world had seen.  This humane and kindly Blue Law
+Code, of two hundred and forty years ago, stands all by itself,
+with ages of bloody law on the further side of it, and a century and
+three-quarters of bloody English law on _this_ side of it.
+
+There has never been a time--under the Blue Laws or any other--when
+above _fourteen_ crimes were punishable by death in Connecticut.  But in
+England, within the memory of men who are still hale in body and mind,
+_two hundred and twenty-three_ crimes were punishable by death! {10}
+ These facts are worth knowing--and worth thinking about, too.
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prince and The Pauper,
+Complete by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
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