not answer for
myself."
"I will take care and not tell again, sir," said Ruth, in a low
voice.
"Nay, Ruth, you are not going to have secrets from me, are you? Don't
you remember your promise to consider me as a brother? Go on telling
me everything that happens to you, pray; you cannot think how much
interest I take in all your interests. I can quite fancy that
charming home at Milham you told me about last Sunday. I can almost
fancy Mrs Mason's workroom; and that, surely, is a proof either of
the strength of my imagination, or of your powers of description."
Ruth smiled. "It is, indeed, sir. Our workroom must be so different
to anything you ever saw. I think you must have passed through Milham
often on your way to Lowford."
"Then you don't think it is any stretch of fancy to have so clear an
idea as I have of Milham Grange? On the left hand of the road, is it,
Ruth?"
"Yes, sir, just over the bridge, and up the hill where the elm-trees
meet overhead and make a green shade; and then comes the dear old
Grange, that I shall never see again."
"Never! Nonsense, Ruthie; it is only six miles off; you may see it
any day. It is not an hour's ride."
"Perhaps I may see it again when I am grown old; I did not think
exactly what 'never' meant; it is so very long since I was there, and
I don't see any chance of my going for years and years, at any rate."
"Why, Ruth, you—we may go next Sunday afternoon, if you like."
She looked up at him with a lovely light of pleasure in her face at
the idea. "How, sir? Can I walk it between afternoon service and the
time Mrs Mason comes home? I would go for only one glimpse; but if I
could get into the house—oh, sir! if I could just see mamma's room
again!"
He was revolving plans in his head for giving her this pleasure, and
he had also his own in view. If they went in any of his carriages,
the loitering charm of the walk would be lost; and they must, to
a certain degree, be encumbered by, and exposed to, the notice of
servants.
"Are you a good walker, Ruth? Do you think you can manage six miles?
If we set off at two o'clock, we shall be there by four, without
hurrying; or say half-past four. Then we might stay two hours, and
you could show me all the old walks and old places you love, and we
could still come leisurely home. Oh, it's all arranged directly!"
"But do you think it would be right, sir? It seems as if it would be
such a great pleasure, that it must be in some way wrong."
"Why, you little goose, what can be wrong in it?"
"In the first place, I miss going to church by setting out at two,"
said Ruth, a little gravely.
"Only for once. Surely you don't see any harm in missing church for
once? You will go in the morning, you know."
"I wonder if Mrs Mason would think it right—if she would allow it?"
"No, I dare say not. But you don't mean to be governed by Mrs Mason's
notions of right and wrong. She thought it right to treat that poor
girl Palmer in the way you told me about. You would think that wrong,
you know, and so would every one of sense and feeling. Come, Ruth,
don't pin your faith on any one, but judge for yourself. The pleasure
is perfectly innocent; it is not a selfish pleasure either, for I
shall enjoy it to the full as much as you will. I shall like to see
the places where you spent your childhood; I shall almost love them
as much as you do." He had dropped his voice; and spoke in low,
persuasive tones. Ruth hung down her head, and blushed with exceeding
happiness; but she could not speak, even to urge her doubts afresh.
Thus it was in a manner settled.
How delightfully happy the plan made her through the coming week!
She was too young when her mother died to have received any cautions
or words of advice respecting
the
subject of a woman's life—if,
indeed, wise parents ever directly speak of what, in its depth and
power, cannot be put into words—which is a brooding spirit with no
definite form or shape that men should know it, but which is there,
and present
myself."
"I will take care and not tell again, sir," said Ruth, in a low
voice.
"Nay, Ruth, you are not going to have secrets from me, are you? Don't
you remember your promise to consider me as a brother? Go on telling
me everything that happens to you, pray; you cannot think how much
interest I take in all your interests. I can quite fancy that
charming home at Milham you told me about last Sunday. I can almost
fancy Mrs Mason's workroom; and that, surely, is a proof either of
the strength of my imagination, or of your powers of description."
Ruth smiled. "It is, indeed, sir. Our workroom must be so different
to anything you ever saw. I think you must have passed through Milham
often on your way to Lowford."
"Then you don't think it is any stretch of fancy to have so clear an
idea as I have of Milham Grange? On the left hand of the road, is it,
Ruth?"
"Yes, sir, just over the bridge, and up the hill where the elm-trees
meet overhead and make a green shade; and then comes the dear old
Grange, that I shall never see again."
"Never! Nonsense, Ruthie; it is only six miles off; you may see it
any day. It is not an hour's ride."
"Perhaps I may see it again when I am grown old; I did not think
exactly what 'never' meant; it is so very long since I was there, and
I don't see any chance of my going for years and years, at any rate."
"Why, Ruth, you—we may go next Sunday afternoon, if you like."
She looked up at him with a lovely light of pleasure in her face at
the idea. "How, sir? Can I walk it between afternoon service and the
time Mrs Mason comes home? I would go for only one glimpse; but if I
could get into the house—oh, sir! if I could just see mamma's room
again!"
He was revolving plans in his head for giving her this pleasure, and
he had also his own in view. If they went in any of his carriages,
the loitering charm of the walk would be lost; and they must, to
a certain degree, be encumbered by, and exposed to, the notice of
servants.
"Are you a good walker, Ruth? Do you think you can manage six miles?
If we set off at two o'clock, we shall be there by four, without
hurrying; or say half-past four. Then we might stay two hours, and
you could show me all the old walks and old places you love, and we
could still come leisurely home. Oh, it's all arranged directly!"
"But do you think it would be right, sir? It seems as if it would be
such a great pleasure, that it must be in some way wrong."
"Why, you little goose, what can be wrong in it?"
"In the first place, I miss going to church by setting out at two,"
said Ruth, a little gravely.
"Only for once. Surely you don't see any harm in missing church for
once? You will go in the morning, you know."
"I wonder if Mrs Mason would think it right—if she would allow it?"
"No, I dare say not. But you don't mean to be governed by Mrs Mason's
notions of right and wrong. She thought it right to treat that poor
girl Palmer in the way you told me about. You would think that wrong,
you know, and so would every one of sense and feeling. Come, Ruth,
don't pin your faith on any one, but judge for yourself. The pleasure
is perfectly innocent; it is not a selfish pleasure either, for I
shall enjoy it to the full as much as you will. I shall like to see
the places where you spent your childhood; I shall almost love them
as much as you do." He had dropped his voice; and spoke in low,
persuasive tones. Ruth hung down her head, and blushed with exceeding
happiness; but she could not speak, even to urge her doubts afresh.
Thus it was in a manner settled.
How delightfully happy the plan made her through the coming week!
She was too young when her mother died to have received any cautions
or words of advice respecting
the
subject of a woman's life—if,
indeed, wise parents ever directly speak of what, in its depth and
power, cannot be put into words—which is a brooding spirit with no
definite form or shape that men should know it, but which is there,
and present
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