While all the feelings and thoughts relating to Jenny
were predominant, Sunday arrived. Mrs. Mason went the accustomed
visit to her father's, making some little show of apology to Mrs.
Wood for leaving her and her daughter; the apprentices dispersed
to the various friends with whom they were in the habit of
spending the day; and Ruth went to St. Nicholas', with a
sorrowful heart, depressed on account of Jenny, and
self-reproachful at having rashly undertaken what she had been
unable to perform.
As she came out of church she was joined by Mr. Bellingham. She
had half hoped that he might have forgotten the arrangement, and
yet she wished to relieve herself of her responsibility. She knew
his step behind her, and the contending feelings made her heart
beat hard, and she longed to run away.
"Miss Hilton, I believe," said he, overtaking her, and bowing
forward, so as to catch a sight of her rose-red face. "How is our
little sailor going on? Well, I trust, from the symptoms the
other day."
"I believe, sir, he is quite well now. I am very sorry, but I
have not been able to go and see him. I am so sorry--I could not
help it. But I have got one or two things through another person.
I have put them down on this slip of paper; and here is your
purse, sir, for I am afraid I can do nothing more for him. We
have illness in the house, and it makes us very busy."
Ruth had been so much accustomed to blame of late, that she
almost anticipated some remonstrance or reproach now, for not
having fulfilled her promise better.
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