with reverberating; solemn melody。 It was the great bell of St。 Paul's
tolling midnightthe Old Year was dead。
〃Straight home!〃 she repeated; with a beautiful; expectant look in her
wild; weary eyes。 〃My little darling! Yes; we are both tired; we will go
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STORIES
home! Home; sweet home! We will go!〃
Kissing the cold face of the baby corpse she held; she threw herself
forward; there followed a sullen; deep splasha slight struggleand all
was over! The water lapped against the steps heavily; heavily; as before;
the policeman passed once more; and saw to his satisfaction that the coast
was clear; through the dark veil of the sky one star looked out and
twinkled for a brief instant; then disappeared again。 A clash and clamour
of bells startled the brooding night; here and there a window was opened;
and figures appeared in balconies to listen。 They were ringing in the New
Yearthe festival of hope; the birthday of the world! But what were New
Years to her; who; with white; upturned face; and arms that embraced an
infant in the tenacious grip of death; went drifting; drifting solemnly down
the dark river; unseen; unpitied by all those who awoke to new hopes and
aspirations on that first morning of another life…probation! Liz had gone;
gone to make her peace with Godperhaps through the aid of her 〃hired〃
baby; the little sinless soul she had so fondly cherished; gone to that
sweetest 〃home〃 we dream of and pray for; where the lost and bewildered
wanderers of this earth shall find true welcome and rest from grief and
exile; gone to that fair; far glory…world where reigns the divine Master;
whose words still ring above the tumult of ages: 〃See that ye despise not
one of these little ones; for I say unto you; that their angels do always
behold the face of My Father who is in heaven。〃
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