"What! Now o' God's name what art thou, then?"
"It is a secret—mark thou reveal it not. I am an archangel!"
There was a tremendous ejaculation from Miles Hendon—not altogether unprofane—followed by—
"This doth well and truly account for his complaisance! Right well I knew he would budge nor hand nor foot in the menial service of any mortal; but lord, even a king must obey when an archangel gives the word o' command! 
"GOD MADE EVERY CREATURE BUT YOU!"Let me—'sh! What noise was that?"
All this while the little king had been yonder, alternately quaking with terror and trembling with hope; and all the while, too, he had thrown all the strength he could into his anguished moanings, constantly expecting them to reach Hendon's ear, but always realizing, with bitterness, that they failed, or at least made no impression. So this last remark of his servant came as comes a reviving breath from fresh fields to the dying; and he exerted himself once more, and with all his energy, just as the hermit was saying—
