"If you knew," said Trotty, clasping his hands earnestly--"or perhaps you do know--if you know how often you have kept me company; how often you have cheered me up when I've been low; how you were quite the plaything of my little daughter Meg (almost the only one she ever had) when first her mother died, and she and me were left alone; you won't bear malice for a hasty word!" "Who hears in us, the Chimes, one note bespeaking disregard, or stern regard, of any hope, or joy, or pain, or sorrow, of the many-sorrowed throng; who hears us make response to any creed that gauges human passions and affections, as it gauges the amount of miserable food on which humanity may pine and wither; does us wrong. That wrong you have done us!" said the Bell. "I have!" said Trotty. "Oh, forgive me!" "Spare me," cried Trotty, falling on his knees; "for Mercy's sake!" "Listen!" said the Shadow. "Listen!" cried the other Shadows. "Listen!" said a clear and child-like voice, which Trotty thought he recognized as having heard before. The organ sounded faintly in the church below. Swelling by degrees, the melody ascended to the roof, and filled the choir and nave. Expanding more and more, it rose up, up, up, up; higher, higher, higher up; awakening agitated hearts within the burly piles of oak, the hollow bells, the iron-bound doors, the stairs of solid stone; until the tower walls were insufficient to contain it, and it soared into the sky. No wonder that an old man's breast could not contain a sound so vast and mighty. It broke from that weak prison in a rush of tears; and Trotty put his hands before his face. "Listen!" said the Shadow. "Listen!" said the other Shadows. "Listen!" said the child's voice. A solemn strain of blended voices rose into the tower. It was a very low and mournful strain--a Dirge--and as he listened, Trotty heard his child among the singers. "She is dead!" exclaimed the old man. "Meg is dead. Her spirit calls to me. I hear it!" "The Spirit of your child bewails the dead, and mingles with the dead--dead hopes, dead fancies, dead imaginings of youth," returned the Bell, "but she is living. Learn from her life, a living truth. Learn from the creature dearest to your heart, how bad the bad are born. See every bud and leaf plucked one by one from off the fairest stem, and know how bare and wretched it may be. Follow her! To desperation!" Each of the shadowy figures stretched its right arm forth, and pointed downward. "The Spirit of the Chimes is your companion," said the figure. "Go! It stands behind you!" Trotty turned, and saw--the child! The child Will Fern had carried in the street; the child whom Meg had watched, but now, asleep! "I carried her myself, to-night," said Trotty. "In these arms!" "Show him what he calls himself," said the dark figures, one and all. The tower opened at his feet. He looked down, and beheld his own form, lying at the bottom, on the outside: crushed and motionless.