"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