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Updated: June 13, 2025
"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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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