But now the green shadows from without seemed to have become
black in the uninhabited desolation. The oaken shovel-board, the
heavy dresser, and the carved cupboards, were now dull and damp,
which were formerly polished up to the brightness of a
looking-glass where the fire-blaze was for ever glinting; they
only added to the oppressive gloom; the flag-floor was wet with
heavy moisture. Ruth stood gazing into the room, seeing nothing
of what was present. She saw a vision of former days--an evening
in the days of her childhood; her father sitting in the "master's
corner" near the fire, sedately smoking his pipe, while he
dreamily watched his wife and child; her mother reading to her,
as she sat on a little stool at her feet. It was gone--all gone
into the land of shadows; but for the moment it seemed so present
in the old room, that Ruth believed her actual life to be the
dream. Then, 'still silent, she went on into her mother's
parlour. But there, the bleak look of what had once been full of
peace and mother's love, struck cold on her heart. She uttered a
cry, and threw herself down by the sofa, hiding her face in her
hands, while her frame quivered with her repressed sobs.
"Dearest Ruth, don't give way so. It can do no good; it cannot
bring back the dead," said Mr. Bellingham, distressed at
witnessing her distress.
"I know it cannot," murmured Ruth; "and that is why I cry. I cry
because nothing will ever bring them back again.
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