The Prince and his Deliverer

           AssoonasMilesHendonandthelittleprincewereclearofthemob,theystruckdownthroughbacklanesandalleystowardtheriver.TheirwaywasunobstructeduntiltheyapproachedLondonBridge;thentheyploughedintothemultitudeagain,HendonkeepingafastgripuponthePrince’s—no,theKing’s—wrist.Thetremendousnewswasalreadyabroad,andtheboylearneditfromathousandvoicesatonce—"TheKingisdead!"Thetidingsstruckachilltotheheartofthepoorlittlewaif,andsentashudderthroughhisframe.Herealisedthegreatnessofhisloss,andwasfilledwithabittergrief;forthegrimtyrantwhohadbeensuchaterrortoothershadalwaysbeengentlewithhim.Thetearssprangtohiseyesandblurredallobjects.Foraninstanthefelthimselfthemostforlorn,outcast,andforsakenofGod’screatures—thenanothercryshookthenightwithitsfar-reachingthunders:"LongliveKingEdwardtheSixth!"andthismadehiseyeskindle,andthrilledhimwithpridetohisfingers’ends."Ah,"hethought,"howgrandandstrangeitseems—IamKing!"

           Ourfriendsthreadedtheirwayslowlythroughthethrongsuponthebridge.Thisstructure,whichhadstoodforsixhundredyears,andhadbeenanoisyandpopulousthoroughfareallthattime,wasacuriousaffair,foracloselypackedrankofstoresandshops,withfamilyquartersoverhead,stretchedalongbothsidesofit,fromonebankoftherivertotheother.