"Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
"Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be;
Never, never can it be!
"And can He, who smiles on all,
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird's grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,
"And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast?
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant's tear?
"And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
Oh! no; never can it be;
Never, never can it be!
"He doth give his joy to all;
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too."
In the midst of the last soft strain Eva's hands paused on the keys, her sisters ceased singing, and her father and mother lifted their faces to listen; for a loud gamut of bells outside had run up the first stroke of the fire-alarm. At the last stroke, Mr. Willian started up and went into the entry for his hat. Not a word was said as he went out; but the girls gathered about their mother, and stood with the breath just hovering on their lips, counting the alarm over and over, hoping against hope. But, no; they had counted rightly at first. The loud clear strokes through that silence left no room for doubt.
The girls drew nearer their mother, their faces losing color.
"I can't bear the suspense, Eva," she said. "Get our bonnets, and we will go down-town. Don't cry, Josie! You children all stay here and say the rosary while we are gone. We will soon be back, and perhaps we shall bring good news."