Turn him out in the winter's cold, and on Christmas night, too; when all the merciful angels were moving betwixt heaven and earth. When the bond of brotherhood that linked human beings together was drawn closer, and the rich man's gift and the widow's mite were paid into the same treasury of love, it was impossible! How soundly he was sleeping, poor fellow, lulled by the very fulness of comfort, his sick hunger appeased, and his bones no longer aching with cold. A fair moustache covered his mouth, but Olivia, who prided herself on reading character, soon decided that the chin and lower part of the face showed signs of weakness, but as the thought passed through her mind a pair of deep blue eyes opened full on her face, and gazed at her in bewilderment. "Where am I?" he said, feebly; "oh, I remember, I fainted on a doorstep, and some good Samaritan carried me in;" then in the same weak voice, "Forgive me, madam, but I am afraid to rise." "Lie still--please lie still until my husband comes back," returned Olivia, a little nervously. How ill he looked--the eyes looked preternaturally large in the wasted face. "It is sad to see anyone in such distress," she continued, gently, "and on Christmas night, too." "Yes, I am down on my luck," returned the stranger; but even in his feebleness he spoke a little recklessly; "I was always 'Murad the Unlucky;' it would have been all over with me in a few hours if the doctor had not found me. I was just at the end of my tether,"--but here a hard cough seemed to tear him to pieces. "Lie still and try to sleep again," returned Olivia, hurriedly; then she went out of the room and summoned Martha. When Marcus returned and went in search of her, he found her airing some sheets at the kitchen fire. "Marcus," she said, "Martha has been lighting a fire in that little empty room, where the iron bedstead is; there are the mattress and the two blankets Aunt Madge lent me when I was ill; I am going to make up a bed there for to-night." "You think we ought to keep him, then," returned her husband, looking at her questioningly. "To be sure, I hardly know how we are to turn him out; but if he falls ill on our hands, eh, Livy?" "If he be very ill, you would have to take him to a hospital," she returned, quickly. "We have not got the cruise of oil, remember, and, as Aunt Madge says, we must be just before we are generous--but he has such a terrible cough, Marcus." "Oh, that is from cold and exhaustion, and, as I told you before, he has evidently recovered from some severe illness, probably pleurisy or pneumonia. Well, Livy, I think you are about right; we must do our best for the poor beggar; now and then one must help 'lame dogs over stiles,'" and Marcus, whose bump of benevolence was largely developed, and who believed in practical religion, was sincerely grateful that his wife had fallen in with his views.