She never imagined that the grim warning related to the
handsome young man who awaited her with a countenance beaming
with love, and tenderly drew her hand within his arm.
The old man sighed as he watched them away. "The Lord may help
her to guide her steps aright. He may. But I'm afeard she's
treading in perilous places. I'll put my missis up to going to
the town and getting speech of her, and telling her a bit of her
danger. An old motherly woman like our Mary will set about it
better nor a stupid fellow like me."
The poor old labourer prayed long and earnestly that night for
Ruth. He called it "wrestling for her soul;" and I think that his
prayers were heard, for "God judgeth not as man judgeth."
Ruth went on her way, all unconscious of the dark phantoms of the
future that were gathering around her; her melancholy turned,
with the pliancy of childish years, at sixteen not yet lost, into
a softened manner which was infinitely charming. By-and-by she
cleared up into sunny happiness. The evening was still and full
of mellow light, and the new-born summer was so delicious that,
in common with all young creatures, she shared its influence and
was glad. They stood together at the top of a steep ascent, "the
hill" of the hundred. At the summit there was a level space,
sixty or seventy yards square, of unenclosed and broken ground,
over which the golden bloom of the gorse cast a rich hue, while
its delicious scent perfumed the fresh and nimble air.
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