Three People | Page 4

he came to a cellar stairs, and then he stopped short in the midst of rain and wind, such a pitiable sight met his eye, the figure of a human being, fallen down on that lowest stair in all the abandonment of drunkenness.
"This is awful!" muttered John Birge to himself. "I wonder if the poor wretch lives here, and if I can't get him in."
Wondering which, he hurried down the stairs, made his way carefully past the "poor wretch" and knocked at the door. No answer. He knocked louder, and this time a low "come in" rewarded him, and he promptly obeyed it. A woman was bending over a pile of straw and rags, and an object lying on top of them; and a squalid child, curled in one corner, with a wild, frightened look in his eyes. The woman turned as the door opened, and John Birge recognized her as his mother's washerwoman.
"Oh, Mr. Birge," she said, eagerly, "I'm too thankful for anything at seeing you. This woman is going so fast, she is; and what to do I don't know."
Mr. Birge set down his umbrella and shook himself free of what drops he could before he approached the straw and rags; then he saw that a woman lay on them, and on her face the purple shadows of death were gathering.
"What is it?" he asked, awe-struck. "What is the matter?"
"Clear case of murder, I call it. Her man is a drunkard, and a fiend, too, leastways when he's drunk he is--and he's pitched her down them there stairs once too often, I reckon. I was goin' to my work early this morning, and I heard her groaning, so I come in, and I just staid on ever since. Feelings is feelings, if a body does have to lose a day's work to pay for 'em. She lies like that for a spell, and then she rouses up and has an awful turn."
"Turn of what? Is she in pain?"
"No, I reckon not; it's her mind. She knows she's going, and it makes her wild, like. Maybe you can talk to her some, and do her good--there, she sees you!"
A pair of stony, rather than wild, eyes were suddenly fixed on Mr. Birge's face. He bent over her and spoke gently.
"My poor woman, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing at all," she said, stolidly. "My heart's broke, and that's the end of it. It don't make no difference what comes next, I'm done with it."
"But, my poor friend, are you ready for what is coming to you?"
"You mean I'm dying, I s'pose. Yes, I know that, and it makes no kind of difference. I've had enough of living, the land knows. Things can't be worse with me than they are here."
And now John spoke eagerly.
"But don't you know that they can be better, that there is a home and rest and peace waiting for you, and that the Lord Jesus Christ wants you?"
"I don't know anything about them things. I might, I s'pose, if I'd been a mind to. It's too late now, and I don't care about that, either. Things can't be worse, I tell you."
"It's not too late; don't ruin yourself with that folly. The Lord is all powerful. He can do anything. He doesn't need time as men do. He can save you now just as well as he could last year. All you have to do is to ask him; he will in no wise cast out; he 'is able to save to the uttermost.' Believe on him, and the work is all done."
It is impossible to tell the eager energy with which these words were poured forth by the man who saw that the purple shadows were creeping and the time was short; but the same stony look still settled on the listener's face, and she repeated with the indifference of despair--
"It's no use--my time is gone--it don't matter. My heart's broke, I tell you, and I don't care."
"He will save you if you will let him; he wants to. I can't tell you how much he has promised to hear the very faintest, latest call. Say 'Lord Jesus forgive me' with all your heart, and the work is done."
A sudden change swept over the sick stolid face, a gleam of interest in the dreary eyes, and she spoke with eagerness.
"Do you say he can do everything?"
"Everything. 'Whatever ye ask in my name, believing, ye shall receive.' These are his own words."
"Does he believe in rum?"
"No!" promptly replied the startled, but strongly temperate John Birge.
"Then I'll pray," was the quick response. "I never prayed in my life, but I will now; like enough I can save him yet. You folks think he can hear everything that's said, don't you?"
Strangely moved as well as startled, her