The roaring of the storm, the bellowing of the cattle, the creaking of the window shutters and the moaning of that old woman made it sad and lonesome.
I was sitting there, thinking of what an awful thing it is to be poor and homeless and sick and friendless,—thinking of the wrong and misery, the cruelty and crime that is going on in the world against the weak and helpless,—when for some reason I looked toward the window, and there was the face of the most beautiful little girl I ever saw, looking in just over the sash. Her face seemed to shine, it was so bright. Her hair was the color of gold. I couldn’t speak.
That face (for the face and shoulders were all I could see) seemed to float in at that window, and for a minute stood still, like a humming-bird in the air, in the middle of that room, with its eyes steadily fixed on the old woman. Then it moved slowly and quietly downward and lit on the bed beside Betsy, and, pushing back the hair of the sick woman, leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. At that Betsy opened her eyes and clasped the little girl in her arms, saying:
“Oh, my child!”
The head said, “Mamma.”
They held each other there a minute or so, when Betsy all of a sudden threw her arms in the air, half rose up and screamed at the top of her voice:
“See! see! Look yonder! Your father’s burning! Go, child! Go!”
The little girl turned her head, and they both looked toward the west wall a second, as though they saw something terrible to behold. Then the child rose as quick as thought, and, like a flash, went out at the window, screaming in a tone that made the chills run over me, “Oh, my papa!”
Betsy fell back upon the bed, and seemed to be greatly troubled and in much pain.
I had set there possibly an hour, watching the sufferings of that poor woman, and thinking of that little girl, when all of a sudden I looked toward the window, and there again was the face of that little girl and the face of an old man. The little girl was pointing with her chubby finger toward the sick woman; the other arm she had around the old man. He was looking to where she was pointing, troubled like.