"
"Wait one moment," said Mollie; "I will go down and let you in."
She closed the window and flew down-stairs, opened the house door
softly, and beckoned.
Miriam entered. Ten minutes later, and they were safely closeted in the
young lady's cozy room.
"Sit down, Aunt Miriam, and take off your shawl. You look cold and
wretched and half starved."
The woman turned her hollow eyes mournfully upon her. They were indeed a
contrast--the bright vision in the rose silk dress, the floating amber
curls, the milky pearls, the foamy lace, and the weird woman in the
wretched rags, with sunken cheeks and hollow, spectral eyes.
"I am cold and wretched and half starved," she said, in a harsh
voice--"a miserable, homeless outcast, forsaken of God and man. My bed
is a bundle of filthy straw, my food a crust or a bone, my garments rags
from the gutters. And yet I accept my fate, since you are rich and well
and happy."
"My poor, poor Miriam! Let me go and get you something to eat, and a
glass of wine to refresh you. It is dreadful to see any human being so
destitute.
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