Almost while she spoke, Miss Benson entered, bringing with her Mr. Grey, the rector of Eccleston.  He was an elderly man, short, and stoutly built, with something very formal in his manner; but any one might feel sure of his steady benevolence who noticed the expression of his face, and especially of the kindly black eyes that gleamed beneath his grey and shaggy eyebrows.  Ruth had seen him at the hospital once or twice, and Mrs. Farquhar had met him pretty frequently in general society.

“Go and tell your uncle,” said Miss Benson to Leonard.

“Stop, my boy!  I have just met Mr. Benson in the street, and my errand now is to your mother.  I should like you to remain and hear what it is; and I am sure that my business will give these ladies,”—­bowing to Miss Benson and Jemima—­“so much pleasure, that I need not apologise for entering upon it in their presence.”  He pulled out his double eye-glass, saying, with a grave smile—­

“You ran away from us yesterday so quietly and cunningly, Mrs. Denbigh, that you were, perhaps, not aware that the Board was sitting at that very time, and trying to form a vote sufficiently expressive of our gratitude to you.  As chairman, they requested me to present you with this letter, which I shall have the pleasure of reading.”

With all due emphasis he read aloud a formal letter from the Secretary to the Infirmary, conveying a vote of thanks to Ruth.

The good rector did not spare her one word, from date to signature; and then, folding the letter up, he gave it to Leonard, saying—­

“There, sir! when you are an old man, you may read that testimony to your mother’s noble conduct with pride and pleasure.  For, indeed,” continued he, turning to Jemima, “no words can express the relief it was to us.  I speak of the gentlemen composing the Board of the Infirmary.  When Mrs. Denbigh came forward, the panic was at its height, and the alarm of course aggravated the disorder.  The poor creatures died rapidly; there was hardly time to remove the dead bodies before others were brought in to occupy the beds, so little help was to be procured on account of the universal terror; and the morning when Mrs. Denbigh offered us her services we seemed at the very worst.  I shall never forget the sensation of relief in my mind when she told us what she proposed to do; but we thought it right to warn her to the full extent—­

“Nay, madam,” said he, catching a glimpse of Ruth’s changing colour, “I will spare you any more praises.  I will only say, if I can be a friend to you, or a friend to your child, you may command my poor powers to the utmost.”

He got up, and, bowing formally, he took his leave.  Jemima came and kissed Ruth.  Leonard went upstairs to put the precious letter away.  Miss Benson sat crying heartily in a corner of the room.  Ruth went to her, and threw her arms round her neck, and said—­