ss, wickedness, and violence, have come and
gone--millions uncountable, have suffered, lived, and died--to point
the way before him. Who seeks to turn him back, or stay him on his
course, arrests a mighty engine which will strike the meddler dead; and
be the fiercer and the wilder, ever, for its momentary check!"

"I never did so to my knowledge, sir," said Trotty. "It was quite by
accident if I did. I wouldn't go to do it, I'm sure."

"Who puts into the mouth of Time, or of its servants," said the Goblin
of the Bell, "a cry of lamentation for days which have had their trial
and their failure, and have left deep traces of it which the blind may
see--a cry that only serves the present time, by showing men how much it
needs their help when any ears can listen to regrets for such a
past--who does this, does a wrong. And you have done that wrong to us,
the Chimes."

Trotty's first excess of fear was gone. But he had felt tenderly and
gratefully toward the Bells, as you have seen; and when he heard himself
arraigned as one who had offended them so weightily, his heart was
touched with penitence and grief.

"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