'Jenny, darling,' he feebly whispered, as she bent low to catch the faintest word, 'they have broken my heart. Ah, why did they keep me thus captive?'
'Oh, do not die!' she moaned; 'think how lonely I should be in this wide world without you.'
'If I were but free, we should be so happy again, love,' he said, gasping painfully for breath as he spoke.
'I will release you,' she cried, and strove with all her strength to unfasten the prison door, but in vain—it resisted all her efforts.
'What shall I do? what shall I do? He will die, and I cannot help him,' moaned forth the poor Wren in accents of despair.
'My sweet one,' he murmured, 'do not grieve so bitterly. Death were better far than life if separated from you; but, before I close my eyes for ever upon this world which the good God who loveth us hath created so beautiful, bring me just one spray of those little blue flowers.'
'I know them!' she eagerly cried; 'a cluster grew beneath our nest.'
'Yes,' he continued; 'and when I used to return home I could see them afar off, and would think, "Jenny is there, and their blue eyes are looking upon her." Bring me one tiny spray, darling, and if I die when you are from me, we shall not seem so very far apart, for those sweet flowers will whisper to me of you.'
She waited no longer, but flew rapidly away to bring the blossoms on which he wished to look once again; but she had not long gone when a young girl came to the cage, and saw the poor captive bird as Jenny had found him—still and motionless as though dying, and her heart was filled with tender pity, that its brief life should thus be so soon ended.
'Poor birdie! I fear it is dying,' she said. 'I will unfasten the cage; perhaps the fresh air will revive him, and bring back his failing strength.'