“After dinner, you must go and lie down, my dear,” said she, untying Ruth’s bonnet-strings, and kissing her.  “Sally goes to church again, but you won’t mind staying alone in the house.  I am sorry we have so many people to dinner; but my brother will always have enough on Sundays for any old or weak people, who may have come from a distance, to stay and dine with us; and to-day they all seem to have come, because it is his first Sabbath at home.”

In this way Ruth’s first Sunday passed over.

CHAPTER XV

MOTHER AND CHILD

“Here is a parcel for you, Ruth!” said Miss Benson on the Tuesday morning.

“For me!” said Ruth, all sorts of rushing thoughts and hopes filling her mind, and turning her dizzy with expectation.  If it had been from “him,” the new-born resolutions would have had a bard struggle for existence.

“It is directed ‘Mrs. Denbigh,’” said Miss Benson, before giving it up.  “It is in Mrs. Bradshaw’s handwriting;” and, far more curious than Ruth, she awaited the untying of the close-knotted string.  When the paper was opened, it displayed a whole piece of delicate cambric muslin; and there was a short note from Mrs. Bradshaw to Ruth, saying her husband had wished her to send this muslin in aid of any preparations Mrs. Denbigh might have to make.  Ruth said nothing, but coloured up, and sat down again to her employment.

“Very fine muslin, indeed,” said Miss Benson, feeling it, and holding it up against the light, with the air of a connoisseur; yet all the time she was glancing at Ruth’s grave face.  The latter kept silence, and showed no wish to inspect her present further.  At last she said, in a low voice—­

“I suppose I may send it back again?”

“My dear child! send it back to Mr. Bradshaw!  You’d offend him for life.  You may depend upon it, he means it as a mark of high favour!”

“What right had he to send it me?” asked Ruth, still in her quiet voice.

“What right?  Mr. Bradshaw thinks——­I don’t know exactly what you mean by ‘right.’”

Ruth was silent for a moment, and then said—­

“There are people to whom I love to feel that I owe gratitude—­gratitude which I cannot express, and had better not talk about—­but I cannot see why a person whom I do not know should lay me under an obligation.  Oh! don’t say I must take this muslin, please, Miss Benson!”

What Miss Benson might have said if her brother had not just then entered the room, neither he nor any other person could tell; but she felt his presence was most opportune, and called him in as umpire.  He had come hastily, for he had much to do; but he no sooner heard the case than he sat down, and tried to draw some more explicit declaration of her feeling from Ruth, who had remained silent during Miss Benson’s explanation.

“You would rather send this present back?” said he.