"It is in Mrs. Bradshaw's handwriting;" and, far more
curious than Ruth, she awaited the untying of the close-knotted
string. When the paper was opened, it displayed a whole piece of
delicate cambric muslin; and there was a short note from Mrs.
Bradshaw to Ruth, saying her husband had wished her to send this
muslin in aid of any preparations Mrs. Denbigh might have to
make. Ruth said nothing, but coloured up, and sat down again to
her employment.
"Very fine muslin, indeed," said Miss Benson, feeling it, and
holding it up against the light, with the air of a connoisseur;
yet all the time she was glancing at Ruth's grave face. The
latter kept silence, and showed no wish to inspect her present
further. At last she said, in a low voice--
"I suppose I may send it back again?"
"My dear child! send it back to Mr. Bradshaw! You'd offend him
for life. You may depend upon it, he means it as a mark of high
favour!"
"What right had he to send it me?" asked Ruth, still in her quiet
voice.
"What right? Mr. Bradshaw thinks----I don't know exactly what
you mean by 'right.'"
Ruth was silent for a moment, and then said--
"There are people to whom I love to feel that I owe
gratitude--gratitude which I cannot express, and had better not
talk about--but I cannot see why a person whom I do not know
should lay me under an obligation. Oh! don't say I must take this
muslin, please, Miss Benson!"
What Miss Benson might have said if her brother had not just then
entered the room, neither he nor any other person could tell; but
she felt his presence was most opportune, and called him in as
umpire.
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