bounds by which she surmounted obstacles, the quick perception and ready adaptation of truths and first principles, and her immediate sense of the fitness of things.  Her delight in what was strong and beautiful called out her master’s sympathy; but, most of all, he admired the complete unconsciousness of uncommon power, or unusual progress.  It was less of a wonder than he considered it to be, it is true, for she never thought of comparing what she was now with her former self, much less with another.  Indeed, she did not think of herself at all, but of her boy, and what she must learn in order to teach him to be and to do as suited her hope and her prayer.  If any one’s devotion could have flattered her into self-consciousness, it was Jemima’s.  Mr. Bradshaw never dreamed that his daughter could feel herself inferior to the minister’s protegee, but so it was; and no knight-errant of old could consider himself more honoured by his ladye’s commands than did Jemima, if Ruth allowed her to do anything for her, or for her boy.  Ruth loved her heartily, even while she was rather annoyed at the open expression Jemima used of admiration.

“Please, I really would rather not be told if people do think me pretty.”

“But it was not merely beautiful; it was sweet-looking and good, Mrs. Postlethwaite called you,” replied Jemima.

“All the more I would rather not hear it.  I may be pretty, but I know I am not good.  Besides, I don’t think we ought to hear what is said of us behind our backs.”

Ruth spoke so gravely, that Jemima feared lest she was displeased.

“Dear Mrs. Denbigh, I never will admire or praise you again.  Only let me love you.”

“And let me love you!” said Ruth, with a tender kiss.

Jemima would not have been allowed to come so frequently if Mr. Bradshaw had not been possessed with the idea of patronising Ruth.  If the latter had chosen, she might have gone dressed from head to foot in the presents which he wished to make her, but she refused them constantly; occasionally to Miss Benson’s great annoyance.  But if he could not load her with gifts, he could show his approbation by asking her to his house; and after some deliberation, she consented to accompany Mr. and Miss Benson there.  The house was square and massy-looking, with a great deal of drab-colour about the furniture.  Mrs. Bradshaw, in her lackadaisical, sweet-tempered way, seconded her husband in his desire of being kind to Ruth; and as she cherished privately a great taste for what was beautiful or interesting, as opposed to her husband’s love of the purely useful, this taste of hers had rarely had so healthy and true a mode of gratification as when she watched Ruth’s movements about the room, which seemed in its unobtrusiveness and poverty of colour to receive the requisite ornament of light and splendour from Ruth’s presence.  Mrs. Bradshaw sighed, and wished she had a daughter as lovely, about whom to weave a romance; for castle-building,