“Jist as you say, yer honor,” replied the man, as he bowed himself from the room.

“And now, my good woman,” remarked Mr. Elder, “you will perceive the necessity of removing your children and whatever articles you may have here to some other place at once.  I cannot be induced to grant any further time, and lose tenants by the operation.”

“Great God, sir!” exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth, “where am I to go to?  I know of no place where I can find a shelter this night.  You cannot, must not, force me to leave.”

“I trust you will not put me to the necessity of having you ejected by force,” remarked Mr. Elder.  “You are fully aware that by the arrangement entered into between us, when you first rented the room, that I am doing nothing illegal in requiring you to leave.  You will save me both trouble and pain by doing as I have requested.”

“I cannot,” she replied, pressing her hands to her forehead, and then bursting into tears she exclaimed appealingly:  “For the sake of God have pity, sir!  Let not your heart be so hardened, but turn and befriend a soldiers wretched wife.  There is scarce a beast but contains some touch of feeling, scarce a heart but vibrates in some degree, and beats with a quicker pulsation at the sight of poverty and misery.  Let me hope that yours contains the same feeling, and beats with the same sorrow at the miserable scene before you.  Look around you, sir, and see the destitution of my family; go to the side of that lowly bed and press your hand upon the burning brow of my child; call that little boy and ask him how long he has been without food, look at a wretched mother’s tears, and lot a gracious God remove the hardness from your heart, and drive us not homeless from this roof.  Think not that the ragged, woman who now stands before you, weeping and pleading, would have thus supplicated without a cause.  There was a time when I never dreamed of experiencing such suffering and hardship, such bitter, bitter woe.  Oh! sir, let pity reign dominant in your heart.”

He was unmoved.  Why should he care for the misery of strangers?  Was he not of the world as man generally finds it?  The exceptions to the rule are not of this earth.  They occupy a place in the celestial realms, for, if even they may have committed sins in early life, their deeds of charity blots out the record, and they enter Heaven welcomed by the hosts of angels who dwell there, while their absence from this creates a void not easily filled.

Mr. Elder answered her not for several minutes.  He stood there with his arms folded, silently gazing upon the thin form of Mrs. Wentworth, who, with clasped hands and outstretched arms, anxiously awaited his decision.  But he gave no promise of acquiescence, no hope of pity, no look of charity in his features—­they looked cold, stern, and vexed.