A little distance off,
the feathery branches of a larch waved softly to and fro in the
scarcely perceptible night-breeze. Poor old larch! the time had
been when it had stood in a pleasant lawn, with the tender grass
creeping caressingly up its very trunk; but now the lawn was
divided into yards and squalid back premises, and the larch was
pent up and girded about with flagstones. The snow lay thick on
its boughs, and now and then fell noiselessly down. The old
stables had been added to, and altered into a dismal street of
mean-looking houses, back to back with the ancient mansions. And
over all these changes from grandeur to squalor, bent down the
purple heavens with their unchanging splendour!
Ruth pressed her hot forehead against the cold glass, and
strained her aching eyes in gazing out on the lovely sky of a
winter's night. The impulse was strong upon her to snatch up a
shawl, and, wrapping it round her head, to sally forth and enjoy
the glory; and time was when that impulse would have been
instantly followed; but now, Ruth's eyes filled with tears, and
she stood quite still dreaming of the days that were gone. Some
one touched her shoulder while her thoughts were far away,
remembering past January nights, which had resembled this, and
were yet so different.
"Ruth, love," whispered a girl, who had unwillingly distinguished
herself by a long hard fit of coughing, "come and have some
supper.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27