She asked the girl to fetch Mr. G. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. " "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase.
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