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Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn, 1810-1865

"Ruth"


The worst was, he had won Leonard's heart, who was constantly
seeking him out; or, when absent, talking about him. The best was
some journey connected with business, which would take him to the
Continent for several weeks; and, during that time, surely this
disagreeable fancy of his would die away, if untrue; and if true,
some way would be opened by which she might put a stop to all
increase of predilection on his part, and yet retain him as a
friend for Leonard--that darling for whom she was far-seeing and
covetous, and miserly of every scrap of love and kindly regard.
Mr. Farquhar would not have been flattered, if he had known how
much his departure contributed to Ruth's rest of mind on the
Saturday afternoon on which he set out on his journey. It was a
beautiful day; the sky of that intense quivering blue, which
seemed as though you could look through it for ever, yet not
reach the black, infinite space which is suggested as lying
beyond. Now and then, a thin, torn, vaporous cloud floated slowly
within the vaulted depth; but the soft air that gently wafted it
was not perceptible among the leaves on the trees, which did not
even tremble. Ruth sat at her work in the shadow formed by the
old grey garden wall; Miss Benson and Sally--the one in the
parlour window-seat mending stockings, the other hard at work in
her kitchen--were both within talking distance, for it was
weather for open doors and windows; but none of the three kept up
any continued conversation; and in the intervals Ruth sang low a
brooding song, such as she remembered her mother singing long
ago.


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