ings ceased as suddenly as if the whisperers had been stricken
dumb.

Soon there was a general buzz along the corridors, of "The prince! See,
the prince comes!"

Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, trying to bow in
return, and meekly gazing upon his strange surroundings with bewildered
and pathetic eyes. Great nobles walked upon each side of him, making him
lean upon them, and so steady his steps. Behind him followed the
court-physicians and some servants.

Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment of the palace and heard
the door close behind him. Around him stood those who had come with him.
Before him, at a little distance, reclined a very large and very fat man,
with a wide, pulpy face, and a stern expression. His large head was very
grey; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his face, like a frame,
were grey also. His clothing was of rich stuff, but old, and slightly
frayed in places. One of his swollen legs had a pillow under it, and was
wrapped in bandages. There was silence now; and there was no head there
but was bent in reverence, except this man's. This stern-countenanced
invalid was the dread Henry VIII. He said--and his face grew gentle as
he began to speak--

"How now, my lord Edward, my prince? Hast been minded to cozen me, the
good King thy father, who loveth thee, and kindly useth thee, with a
sorry jest?"

Poor Tom was listening, as well as his dazed faculties would let him, to
the beginning of this speech; but when the words 'me, the good King' fell
upon his ear, his face blanched, and he dropped as instantly upon his
knees as if a shot had brought him there. Lifting up his hands, he
exclaimed--

"Thou the KING? Then am I undone indeed!"

This speech seemed to stun the King. His eyes wandered from face to face
aimlessly, then rested, bewildered, upon the boy before him. Then he
said in a tone of deep disappointment--

"Alack, I had believed the rumour disproportioned to the truth; but I
fear me 'tis not so." He breathed a heavy sigh, and said in a gentle
voice, "Come to thy father, child: thou art not well."

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