" The yellow rose had
clambered up to the window of Mr. Benson's bedroom, and its
blossom-laden branches were supported by a jargonelle pear-tree
rich in autumnal fruit.
But, perhaps, in Ruth herself there was the greatest external
change; for of the change which had gone on in her heart, and
mind, and soul, or if there had been any, neither she nor any one
around her was conscious; but sometimes Miss Benson did say to
Sally, "How very handsome Ruth is grown!" To which Sally made
ungracious answer, "Yes, she's well enough. Beauty is deceitful,
and favour a snare, and I'm thankful the Lord has spared me from
such man-traps and spring-guns." But even Sally could not help
secretly admiring Ruth. If her early brilliancy of colouring was
gone, a clear ivory skin, as smooth as satin, told of complete
and perfect health, and was as lovely, if not so striking in
effect, as the banished lilies and roses. Her hair had grown
darker and deeper, in the shadow that lingered in its masses; her
eyes, even if you could have guessed that they had shed bitter
tears in their day, had a thoughtful, spiritual look about them,
that made you wonder at their depth, and look--and look again.
The increase of dignity in her face had been imparted to her
form. I do not know if she had grown taller since the birth of
her child, but she looked as if she had. And although she had
lived in a very humble home, yet there was something about either
it or her, or the people amongst whom she had been thrown during
the last few years, which had so changed her, that whereas, six
or seven years ago, you would have perceived that she was not
altogether a lady by birth and education, yet now she might have
been placed among the highest in the land, and would have been
taken by the most critical judge for their equal, although
ignorant of their conventional etiquette--an ignorance which she
would have acknowledged in a simple, child-like way, being
unconscious of any false shame.
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