The fire had gone down—it was a cold night, and the wind howled dismally outside. The lamps grew dim and flared, casting weird shadows upon the wall. By and by I heard a smothered sob from the corner, then another. I looked in that direction. She had risen from her seat, and oh! the look of agony on the poor, pinched face.
“I can’t believe it,” she sobbed, wringing her thin, white hands. “Oh! I can’t believe it! My babies! my babies! how often have I held them in my arms and kissed them; and how often they used to say back to me, ‘Ise love you, mamma;’ and now, O God! they’ve turned against me. Where am I going? To the poor-house! No! no! no! I cannot! I will not! Oh, the disgrace!”
And sinking upon her knees, she sobbed out in prayer: “O God! spare me this and take me home! O God, spare me this disgrace; spare me!”
The wind rose higher, and swept through the crevices icy cold. How it moaned and seemed to sob like something human that is hurt. I began to shake, but the kneeling figure never stirred. The thin shawl had dropped from her shoulders unheeded. Simmons turned over and drew his heavy blanket more closely around him.
Oh, how cold! Only one lamp remained, burning dimly; the other two had gone out for want of oil. I could hardly see, it was so dark.
At last she became quieter, and ceased to moan. Then I grew drowsy, and kind of lost the run of things after I had struck twelve, when some one entered the depot with a bright light. I started up. It was the brightest light I ever saw, and seemed to fill the room full of glory. I could see ’twas a man. He walked to the kneeling figure and touched her upon the shoulder. She started up and turned her face wildly around. I heard him say:
“’Tis train time, ma’am. Come!”
A look of joy came over her face.
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
“Then give me your pass, ma’am.”