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Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn, 1810-1865

"Ruth"

It was irrepressible. He
stepped forward with a proud bearing, and, touching the old man's
arm who had first spoken, Leonard tried to speak; but for an
instant he could not, his heart was too full: tears came before
words, but at length he managed to say--
"Sir, I am her son!"
"Thou! thou her bairn! God bless you, lad," said an old woman,
pushing through the crowd. "It was but last night she kept my
child quiet with singing psalms the night through. Low and sweet,
low and sweet, they tell me--till many poor things were hushed,
though they were out of their minds, and had not heard psalms
this many a year. God in heaven bless you, lad!"
Many other wild, woe-begone creatures pressed forward with
blessings on Ruth's son, while he could only repeat--
"She is my mother."
From that day forward Leonard walked erect in the streets of
Eccleston, where "many arose and called her blessed."
After some weeks the virulence of the fever abated; and the
general panic subsided--indeed, a kind of fool-hardiness
succeeded. To be sure, in some instances the panic still held
possession of individuals to an exaggerated extent. But the
number of patients in the hospital was rapidly diminishing, and,
for money, those were to be found who could supply Ruth's place.
But to her it was owing that the overwrought fear of the town was
subdued; it was she who had gone voluntarily, and, with no
thought of greed or gain, right into the very jaws of the fierce
disease.


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