Now and then a murmur issued from the parched lips, and one might have heard, had he been very near, the words—
"Mercy! mercy!"
And still from the window above, the bird-like voice caroled out its sweet song, and merry voices joined in the chorus.
Now a little child, with broad, expansive brow, and sweet, soul-lit eyes, parts the rich damask curtains, and pressing his little face closely against the window-pane, gazes out into the frosty night.
"How brightly the gleaming stars shine! I wonder how long have they shone? I wonder are they really all little worlds? and people in them? I wonder—" and here the child stopped, for the bundle of rags beneath the window gave a convulsive heave, and his quick ear had caught the words despair had uttered:
"Mercy! mercy!"
"Oh! papa—dear papa, Gertrude, John, oh, come!" and with heart of pity and winged feet, little Charley darted through the dining-room door, out into the wide hall, and down the steps to the bundle of rags whence the sound issued.
The eyes had closed again, the head had drooped, and the poor thin, outstretched hands fallen hopelessly down upon the frosty pavement.
"Run in, Charley," said John; "the air is bitter cold. Move away, dear, and let me take this poor creature up."
It was a light burthen, that bundle of rags, though the heart beneath it was so heavy.