To cheer her, Miss Benson began to speak of the future.  Miss Benson was one of those people who, the more she spoke of a plan in its details, and the more she realised it in her own mind, the more firmly she became a partisan of the project.  Thus she grew warm and happy in the idea of taking Ruth home; but Ruth remained depressed and languid under the conviction that he no longer loved her.  No home, no future, but the thought of her child, could wean her from this sorrow.  Miss Benson was a little piqued; and this pique showed itself afterwards in talking to her brother of the morning’s proceedings in the sick chamber.

“I admired her at the time for sending away her fifty pounds so proudly; but I think she has a cold heart:  she hardly thanked me at all for my proposal of taking her home with us.”

“Her thoughts are full of other things just now; and people have such different ways of showing feeling:  some by silence, some by words.  At any rate, it is unwise to expect gratitude.”

“What do you expect—­not indifference or ingratitude?”

“It is better not to expect or calculate consequences.  The longer I live, the more fully I see that.  Let us try simply to do right actions, without thinking of the feelings they are to call out in others.  We know that no holy or self-denying effort can fall to the ground vain and useless; but the sweep of eternity is large, and God alone knows when the effect is to be produced.  We are trying to do right now, and to feel right; don’t let us perplex ourselves with endeavouring to map out how she should feel, or how she should show her feelings.”

“That’s all very fine, and I dare say very true,” said Miss Benson, a little chagrined.  “But ’a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush;’ and I would rather have had one good, hearty, ‘Thank you,’ now, for all I have been planning to do for her, than the grand effects you promise me in the ‘sweep of eternity.’  Don’t be grave and sorrowful, Thurstan, or I’ll go out of the room.  I can stand Sally’s scoldings, but I can’t bear your look of quiet depression whenever I am a little hasty or impatient.  I had rather you would give me a good box on the ear.”

“And I would often rather you would speak, if ever so hastily, instead of whistling.  So, if I box your ears when I am vexed with you, will you promise to scold me when you are put out of the way, instead of whistling?”

“Very well! that’s a bargain.  You box, and I scold.  But, seriously, I began to calculate our money when she so cavalierly sent off the fifty-pound note (I can’t help admiring her for it!), and I am very much afraid we shall not have enough to pay the doctor’s bill, and take her home with us.”

“She must go inside the coach, whatever we do,” said Mr. Benson decidedly.

“Who’s there?  Come in!  Oh!  Mrs. Hughes!  Sit down.”

“Indeed, sir, and I cannot stay; but the young lady has just made me find up her watch for her, and asked me to get it sold to pay the doctor, and the little things she has had since she came; and please, sir, indeed I don’t know where to sell it nearer than Caernarvon.”