He's a spruce young chap, anyhow."
Mr. Bellingham's "blood of all the Howards" rose and tingled
about his ears, so that he could not hear Ruth's answer. It began
by "Hush, Thomas; pray hush!" but how it went on he did not
catch. The idea of his being Mrs. Mason's son! It was really too
ridiculous; but, like most things which are "too ridiculous," it
made him very angry. He was hardly himself again when Ruth shyly
came to the window-recess and asked him if he would like to see
the house-place, into which the front-door entered; many people
thought it very pretty, she said, half-timidly, for his face had
unconsciously assumed a hard and haughty expression, which he
could not instantly soften down. He followed her, however; but
before he left the kitchen he saw the old man standing, looking
at Ruth's companion with a strange, grave air of dissatisfaction.
They went along one or two zig-zag damp-smelling stone passages,
and then entered the house-place, or common sitting-room for a
farmer's family in that part of the country. The front door
opened into it, and several other apartments issued out of it,
such as the dairy, the state bedroom (which was half-parlour as
well), and a small room which had been appropriated to the late
Mrs. Hilton, where she sat, or more frequently lay, commanding
through the open door the comings and goings of her household. In
those days the house-place had been a cheerful room, full of
life, with the passing to and fro of husband, child, and
servants; with a great merry wood-fire crackling and blazing away
every evening, and hardly let out in the very heat of summer; for
with the thick stone walls, and the deep window-seats, and the
drapery of vine-leaves and ivy, that room, with its flag-floor,
seemed always to want the sparkle and cheery warmth of a fire.
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