She could not go on standing, she was so
sick and faint; she staggered back to the broken sand-bank, and
sank down, and covered her face with her hands.
"My dearest Ruth! are you ill? Speak, darling! My love, my love,
do speak to me!"
What tender words after such harsh ones! They loosened the
fountain of Ruth's tears, and she cried bitterly.
"Oh! did you see her--did you hear what she said?"
"She! Who, my darling? Don't sob so, Ruth; tell me what it is.
Who has been near you?--who has been speaking to you to make you
cry so?"
"Oh, Mrs. Mason." And there was a fresh burst of sorrow.
"You don't say so! are you sure? I was not away five minutes."
"Oh, yes, sir, I'm quite sure. She was so angry; she said I must
never show my face there again. Oh, dear! what shall I do?"
It seemed to the poor child as if Mrs. Mason's words were
irrevocable, and, that being so, she was shut out from every
house. She saw how much she had done that was deserving of blame,
now when it was too late to undo it. She knew with what severity
and taunts Mrs. Mason had often treated her for involuntary
fallings, of which she had been quite unconscious; and now she
had really done wrong, and shrank with terror from the
consequences. Her eyes were so blinded by the fast-falling tears,
she did not see (nor, had she seen, would she have been able to
interpret) the change in Mr. Bellingham's countenance, as he
stood silently watching her.
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