When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. " "I wish I could have foreseen. ” “I am afraid,” she murmured, “that it would be difficult. She covered herself with her arms. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge.
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