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 next 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 bed-chamber and came staggering
back looking broken-hearted, and saying he had expected to find that
the boy had returned and lain 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.
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