Ruth's soft, yet dignified
submission, touched Sally with compunction, though she did not
choose to show the change in her feelings. She tried to hide it
indeed, by stooping to pick up the long bright tresses; and,
holding them up admiringly, and letting them drop down and float
on the air (like the pendent branches of the weeping birch) she
said: "I thought we should ha' had some crying--I did. They're
pretty curls enough; you've not been so bad to let them be cut
off neither. You see, Master Thurstan is no wiser than a babby in
some things; and Miss Faith just lets him have his own way; so
it's all left to me to keep him out of scrapes. I'll wish you a
very good night. I've heard many a one say as long hair was not
wholesome. Good night."
But in a minute she popped her head into Ruth's room once more--
"You'll put on them caps to-morrow morning. I'll make you a
present on them."
Sally had carried away the beautiful curls, and she could not
find it in her heart to throw such lovely chestnut tresses away,
so she folded them up carefully in paper, and placed them in a
safe corner of her drawer.
CHAPTER XIV
RUTH'S FIRST SUNDAY AT ECCLESTON
Ruth felt very shy when she came down (at half-past seven) the
next morning, in her widow's cap. Her smooth, pale face, with its
oval untouched by time, looked more young and childlike than
ever, when contrasted with the head-gear usually associated with
ideas of age.
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