They did not speak for some time.

“You have not told me what Mr. Bradshaw said.”

“One can’t remember the exact words that are spoken on either side in moments of such strong excitement.  He was very angry, and said some things about me that were very just, and some about Ruth that were very hard.  His last words were that he should give up coming to chapel.”

“Oh, Thurstan! did it come to that?”

“Yes.”

“Does Ruth know all he said?”

“No!  Why should she?  I don’t know if she knows he has spoken to me at all.  Poor creature! she had enough to craze her almost without that!  She was for going away and leaving us, that we might not share in her disgrace.  I was afraid of her being quite delirious.  I did so want you, Faith!  However, I did the best I could; I spoke to her very coldly, and almost sternly, all the while my heart was bleeding for her.  I dared not give her sympathy; I tried to give her strength.  But I did so want you, Faith.”

“And I was so full of enjoyment, I am ashamed to think of it.  But the Dawsons are so kind—­and the day was so fine——­Where is Ruth now?”

“With Leonard.  He is her great earthly motive—­I thought that being with him would be best.  But he must be in bed and asleep now.”

“I will go up to her,” said Miss Faith.

She found Ruth keeping watch by Leonard’s troubled sleep; but when she saw Miss Faith she rose up, and threw herself on her neck and clung to her, without speaking.  After a while Miss Benson said—­

“You must go to bed, Ruth!” So, after she had kissed the sleeping boy, Miss Benson led her away, and helped to undress her, and brought her up a cup of soothing violet-tea—­not so soothing as tender actions and soft, loving tones.

CHAPTER XXVIII

AN UNDERSTANDING BETWEEN LOVERS

It was well they had so early and so truly strengthened the spirit to bear, for the events which had to be endured soon came thick and threefold.

Every evening Mr. and Miss Benson thought the worst must be over; and every day brought some fresh occurrence to touch upon the raw place.  They could not be certain, until they had seen all their acquaintances, what difference it would make in the cordiality of their reception:  in some cases it made much; and Miss Benson was proportionably indignant.  She felt this change in behaviour more than her brother.  His great pain arose from the coolness of the Bradshaws.  With all the faults which had at times grated on his sensitive nature (but which he now forgot, and remembered only their kindness), they were his old familiar friends—­his kind, if ostentatious, patrons—­his great personal interest, out of his own family; and he could not get over the suffering he experienced from seeing their large square pew empty on Sundays—­from perceiving how Mr. Bradshaw, though he bowed in a