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 thou 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

Who would hurt thee; there is none here but loves thee. Thou art better now;

thy ill dream passeth — is't not so? And thou knowest thyself now also — 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, oh my king, and save thee long to bless thy land!'