"Oh, there are water-lilies!" said Ruth, her eye catching on the
farther side. "I must go and get some."
"No; I will get them for you. The ground is spongy all round
there. Sit still, Ruth; this heap of grass will make a capital
seat."
He went round, and she waited quietly for his return. When he
came back he took off her bonnet, without speaking, and began to
place his flowers in her hair. She was quite still while he
arranged her coronet, looking up in his face with loving eyes,
with a peaceful composure. She knew that he was pleased from his
manner, which had the joyousness of a child playing with a new
toy, and she did not think twice of his occupation. It was
pleasant to forget everything except his pleasure. When he had
decked her out, he said--
"There, Ruth! now you'll do. Come and look at yourself in the
pond. Here, where there are no weeds. Come."
She obeyed, and could not help seeing her own loveliness; it gave
her a sense of satisfaction for an instant, as the sight of any
other beautiful object would have done, but she never thought of
associating it with herself. She knew that she was beautiful; but
that seemed abstract, and removed from herself. Her existence was
in feeling and thinking, and loving.
Down in that green hollow they were quite in harmony. Her beauty
was all that Mr. Bellingham cared for, and it was supreme. It was
all he recognised of her, and he was proud of it.
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