"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."