She stood in
her white dress against the trees which grew around; her face was
flushed into a brilliancy of colour which resembled that of a
rose in June; the great, heavy, white flowers drooped on either
side of her beautiful head, and if her brown hair was a little
disordered, the very disorder only seemed to add a grace. She
pleased him more by looking so lovely than by all her tender
endeavours to fall in with his varying humour.
But when they left the wood, and Ruth had taken out her flowers,
and resumed her bonnet, as they came near the inn, the simple
thought of giving him pleasure was not enough to secure Ruth's
peace. She became pensive and sad, and could not rally into
gaiety.
"Really, Ruth," said he, that evening, "you must not encourage
yourself in this habit of falling into melancholy reveries
without any cause. You have been sighing twenty times during the
last half-hour. Do be a little cheerful. Remember, I have no
companion but you in this out-of-the-way place."
"I am very sorry," said Ruth, her eyes filling with tears; and
then she remembered that it was very dull for him to be alone
with her, heavy-hearted as she had been all day. She said in a
sweet, penitent tone--
"Would you be so kind as to teach me one of those games at cards
you were speaking about yesterday? I would do my best to learn."
Her soft, murmuring voice won its way. They rang for the cards,
and he soon forgot that there was such a thing as depression or
gloom in the world, in the pleasure of teaching such a beautiful
ignoramus the mysteries of card-playing.
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