All the keen pleasure of the day, the warm, bright sights and sounds, coarse and homely though they were, seemed to fade into the deep music, and make a part of it.
Yet, sitting there, looking out into the listening night, the poor child's face grew slowly pale as she heard it.

It humbled her.

It made her meanness, her low, weak life so plain to her! There was no pain nor hunger she had known that did not find a voice in its articulate cry.

SHE! what was she?
The pain and wants of the world must be going up to God in that sound, she thought.

There was something more in it,--an unknown meaning of a great content that her shattered brain struggled to grasp.