Mason's returning footstep, even while it was still
far off on the echoing stairs. Two or three others huddled over
the scanty fireplace, which, with every possible economy of
space, and no attempt whatever at anything of grace or ornament,
was inserted in the slight, flat-looking wall, that had been run
up by the present owner of the property to portion off this
division of the grand old drawing-room of the mansion. Some
employed the time in eating their bread and cheese, with as
measured and incessant a motion of the jaws (and almost as
stupidly placid an expression of countenance), as you may see in
cows ruminating in the first meadow you happen to pass.
Some held up admiringly the beautiful ball-dress in progress,
while others examined the effect, backing from the object to be
criticised in the true artistic manner. Others stretched
themselves into all sorts of postures to relieve the weary
muscles; one or two gave vent to all the yawns, coughs, and
sneezes that bad been pent up so long in the presence of Mrs.
Mason. But Ruth Hilton sprang to the large old window, and
pressed against it as a bird presses against the bars of its
cage. She put back the blind, and gazed into the quiet moonlight
night. It was doubly light--almost as much so as day--for
everything was covered with the deep snow which had been falling
silently ever since the evening before. The window was in a
square recess; the old strange little panes of glass had been
replaced by those which gave more light.
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