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?”