“Ye have heard the words of the master,” he said. “‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ I thank ye, maidens, for your kindness. Most of all do I thank him who hath ministered to me from his own necessity.” He turned to the king as he spake, but Alfred had fallen asleep over his book. An expression almost of adoration passed over the beggar’s face. Over the sleeping form then did he make the sign of the cross while the girls watched him in something like awe. “Whoe’er thou art,” he murmured, “Christ is with thee. For that mercy which thou hast meted to another from thy dire want, may it be returned fourfold. Art thou brought low from high estate? Be comforted. Low though the heavy clouds hang, above the sun is shining. Forsaken it may be that thou art now, but to thy call shall rally hundreds.” He bent before the sleeping form of Alfred, and pressed his lips to the king’s hand. Then drawing his bonnet over his head went slowly from them. “Almost,” said Ethelfleda to Egwina, “could I believe that some saint hath visited us. Glad am I that my father bade me give him the food.” “He is some holy man,” returned Egwina in a low tone. “But how he spake of the king? And how he loves him!” She touched the king’s hand reverently. “How they all love him, Ethelfleda!” “And worthy is he of their love,” returned the daughter, gently kissing his forehead. “My noble father! I care not, Egwina, that he be king; but that he is wise, and tender, and so good. When he speaks, his words are unlying always, and men know that his word requires no oath to bind him. My heart bounds with pride when they call him ‘The Truth Teller.’ There have been many kings before him, but none so great as my father.” “I wonder not at thy love,” said the gleemaiden. “Well doth he merit it. And Ethelfleda, as thou dost feel, so do all his people. Pride in his wisdom, and love for his tenderness, even to the beggar that hath left us. It hath given me new hope, for it is said that a poor man’s wish is better than the gift of a rich man.” “Into my heart, too, hath crept new hope,” said Ethelfleda. “Methinks that soon the days will really become brighter.” At this moment Alfred awoke, and started to his feet. “Methought that a poor man but now asked for food,” he said. “One hath been here,” answered Ethelfleda. “We fed him, and he is gone. Dost thou not remember, dear father, that there was not food enou’ left for all but thou didst bid us bring it to him? He hath partaken of it, blessed thee, and gone.” “He blessed me?” The king’s eyes grew dim. “’Tis strange! And then my dream!” “Didst thou dream, my lord and son?” said Eadburga, entering the room. “I, too, have just dreamed. Speak, and let us hear thine, son.”