Ruth Read Online Free

impatience, she began to beat
time with her feet to the spirited air the band was playing. Ruth
could not darn the rent in her dress with this continual motion, and
she looked up to remonstrate. As she threw her head back for this
purpose, she caught the eye of the gentleman who was standing by; it
was so expressive of amusement at the airs and graces of his pretty
partner, that Ruth was infected by the feeling, and had to bend her
face down to conceal the smile that mantled there. But not before
he had seen it, and not before his attention had been thereby drawn
to consider the kneeling figure, that, habited in black up to the
throat, with the noble head bent down to the occupation in which
she was engaged, formed such a contrast to the flippant, bright,
artificial girl who sat to be served with an air as haughty as a
queen on her throne.
    "Oh, Mr Bellingham! I'm ashamed to detain you so long. I had no idea
any one could have spent so much time over a little tear. No wonder
Mrs Mason charges so much for dress-making, if her work-women are so
slow."
    It was meant to be witty, but Mr Bellingham looked grave. He saw the
scarlet colour of annoyance flush to that beautiful cheek which was
partially presented to him. He took a candle from the table, and held
it so that Ruth had more light. She did not look up to thank him, for
she felt ashamed that he should have seen the smile which she had
caught from him.
    "I am sorry I have been so long, ma'am," said she, gently, as she
finished her work. "I was afraid it might tear out again if I did not
do it carefully." She rose.
    "I would rather have had it torn than have missed that charming
galop," said the young lady, shaking out her dress as a bird shakes
its plumage. "Shall we go, Mr Bellingham?" looking up at him.
    He was surprised that she gave no word or sign of thanks to the
assistant. He took up a camellia that some one had left on the table.
    "Allow me, Miss Duncombe, to give this in your name to this young
lady, as thanks for her dexterous help."
    "Oh—of course," said she.
    Ruth received the flower silently, but with a grave, modest motion of
her head. They had gone, and she was once more alone. Presently, her
companions returned.
    "What was the matter with Miss Duncombe? Did she come here?" asked
they.
    "Only her lace dress was torn, and I mended it," answered Ruth,
quietly.
    "Did Mr Bellingham come with her? They say he's going to be married
to her; did he come, Ruth?"
    "Yes," said Ruth, and relapsed into silence.
    Mr Bellingham danced on gaily and merrily through the night, and
flirted with Miss Duncombe, as he thought good. But he looked often
to the side-door where the milliner's apprentices stood; and once he
recognised the tall, slight figure, and the rich auburn hair of the
girl in black; and then his eye sought for the camellia. It was
there, snowy white in her bosom. And he danced on more gaily than
ever.
    The cold grey dawn was drearily lighting up the streets when Mrs
Mason and her company returned home. The lamps were extinguished, yet
the shutters of the shops and dwelling-houses were not opened. All
sounds had an echo unheard by day. One or two houseless beggars sat
on doorsteps, and, shivering, slept, with heads bowed on their knees,
or resting against the cold hard support afforded by the wall.
    Ruth felt as if a dream had melted away, and she were once more in
the actual world. How long it would be, even in the most favourable
chance, before she should again enter the shire-hall! or hear a band
of music! or even see again those bright, happy people—as much
without any semblance of care or woe as if they belonged to another
race of beings. Had they ever to deny themselves a wish, much less
a want? Literally and figuratively, their lives seemed to wander
through flowery pleasure-paths. Here was cold, biting mid-winter
for her, and such as her—for those poor beggars almost a season of
death; but to Miss Duncombe and her companions, a happy, merry time,
when