The king’s eye had moistened while she spoke, and an exceeding softness came over his mood. It is known that he was peculiarly alive to gentle and generous impressions. “Your appeal,” said he, “is—” “Not fruitless, I trust,” interrupted Alice, who had beheld with joy the effect of her words upon his countenance. “Far otherwise,” replied Charles; “but ask not your demand as a boon at my hands, urge it as a debt of gratitude due from a son to one who would have saved the life of his parent.” “Call it what you will, my lord, but grant my request.” “Rise, madam,” said Charles, “my debt to you shall be canceled—your husband and father are pardoned.” Alice pressed the hand with grateful warmth, and raised it to her lips. “May the Lord reward you for the blest and healing words you have uttered,” said she. “No thanks my tongue can speak may suitably express my acknowledgments for what you have done. You have yourself, my liege, known what it is to be hunted down by those who would have deprived you of life. And when you first learned that you might again hold your existence without fear, the thrill of happiness you must have experienced may be named as a fair parallel with that you now confer on those two outcasts whose lives and liberty hung upon your word. But there is no criterion by which one of your sex may judge of the blessing bestowed upon a wife in restoring the life and freedom of her husband. May God repay you for the joy you have conferred upon my heart.” “I am already repaid in your gratitude,” said the king. “Besides, let me not forget that I am only returning an obligation.” “I little dreamed,” rejoined Alice, “when I made an effort on account of the late king, that the time would ever arrive when I should urge it to your majesty as an obligation on your part. It was a simple act of compassion, and some instinctive feelings of loyalty toward my unhappy sovereign. But I find I did not misjudge his son when I thought to found on it some claims to his mercy and generosity.” “The circumstance affords an illustration of the truth, that deeds of kindness sooner or later meet their reward even in this life.” “May you live then to reap your recompense for that you have but now performed,” said Alice, terminating the interview, and turning to depart. The king accompanied her in person to the outer door of the palace, and a page conducted her to the gate, where a carriage was in waiting. CHAPTER XVI. Adieu, oh fatherland! I see Your white cliffs on the horizon’s rim, And though to freer skies I flee, My heart swells, and my eyes are dim! WILLIS.