Mr. Benson had tutored his sister well; and, although Miss
Faith's face was swollen with crying, she spoke with almost
exaggerated cheerfulness to Ruth. Indeed, as they all stood at
the front door, making-believe to have careless nothings to say,
just as at an ordinary leave-taking, you would not have guessed
the strained chords of feeling there were in each heart. They
lingered on, the last rays of the setting sun falling on the
group. Ruth once or twice had roused herself to the pitch of
saying "Good-bye," but when her eye fell on Leonard she was
forced to hide the quivering of her lips, and conceal her
trembling mouth amid the bunch of roses.
"They won't let you have your flowers, I'm afraid," said Miss
Benson. "Doctors so often object to the smell."
"No; perhaps not," said Ruth hurriedly. "I did not think of it. I
will only keep this one rose. Here, Leonard darling!" She gave
the rest to him. It was her farewell; for having now no veil to
hide her emotion, she summoned all her bravery for one parting
smile, and, smiling, turned away. But she gave one look back from
the street, just from the last point at which the door could be
seen, and, catching a glimpse of Leonard standing foremost on the
step, she ran back, and he met her half-way, and mother and child
spoke never a word in that close embrace.
"Now, Leonard," said Miss Faith, "be a brave boy. I feel sure she
will come back to us before very long.
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