He looked at her with unchanged countenance.  Not even the movement of a muscle, denoted that his heart was touched at her pathetic appeal.  His expression was as hard and cold as adamantine, nor did a single feeling of pity move him.  He cared for nothing but money; she could not give him what he wanted, and too sentiment of commiseration, no spark of charity, no feeling of manly regret at her sufferings entered his bosom.

“Be charitable,” she continued.  “I have prayed night after night to God to relieve my necessities; I have walked the town through and through in the effort to procure work, but my prayers have been unanswered, and my efforts have proven unavailing.  At times the thought of the maelstrom of woe into which I am plunged, has well nigh driven me to madness.  My brain has seemed on fire, and the shrieks of the maniac would have been heard resounding through the walls of this room, but my children would come before me, and the light of reason would again return.  But for their sake I should welcome death as a precious boon.  Life has but every charm for me.  In the pale and alternated woman before you, none could recognize a once happy wife.  Oh, sir!” she continued, with energy; “believe me when I tell you that for my children’s sake alone, I now appeal.  Hear me, and look with pity on a mother’s pleadings.  It is for them I plead.  Were I alone, no word of supplication would you hear.  I should leave here, and in the cold and turbid waters of Pearl river, find the rest I am denied on earth.”

“This is a very unaccountable thing to me,” said Mr. Elder.  “You make an agreement to leave as soon as you fail to pay your rent, and now that that hour has arrived, instead of conforming to your agreement, I am beset with a long supplication.  My good woman, this effort of yours to induce me to provide a home for your family at my expense, cannot be successful.  You have no claim upon my charity, and those who have, are sufficiently numerous already without my desiring to make any addition.  As I mentioned before, you must either find money to pay the rent, or vacate the room.”

“Give me time,” she said, speaking with an effort; “give me but two days, and I will endeavor either to obtain the money, or to procure somewhere to stay.”

Mr. Elder knit his brows again as he answered.  “I cannot give you two days, for I intend renting the room by to-morrow.  You can, however, remain here until this evening, at which time you must either be prepared to leave, or find money to pay for the rent.”

“It is well,” she replied.  “I will do as you say.”

“Then you may expect me here this evening at dusk,” he said, and turning towards the door left the room muttering; “when will I ever get rid of this crowd of paupers, who, it is always my luck to rent rooms to.”

“God of Heaven aid me!” exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth, as she closed the door in the receding form of Mr. Elder, and sank on her knees before the bed on which Ella lay in a high fever.