without actually submerging his head, and to regain the
The old woman had not yet returned from church, or from the weekly gossip or neighbourly tea which succeeded. The husband sat in the kitchen, spelling the psalms for the day in his Prayer-book, and reading the words out aloud--a habit he had acquired from the double solitude of his life, for he was deaf. He did not hear the quiet entrance of the pair, and they were struck with the sort of ghostly echo which seems to haunt half-furnished and uninhabited houses. The verses he was reading were the following:--
"Why art thou so vexed, O my soul: and why art thou so disquieted within me?
"O put thy trust in God: for I will yet thank him, which is the help of my countenance, and my God."
And when he had finished he shut the book, and sighed with the satisfaction of having done his duty. The words of holy trust, though, perhaps, they were not fully understood, carried a faithful peace down into the depths of his soul. As he looked up, he saw the young couple standing in the middle of the floor. He pushed his iron-rimmed spectacles. on to his forehead, and rose to greet the daughter of his old master and ever-honoured mistress.
"God bless thee, lass! God bless thee! My old eyes are glad to see thee again."
Ruth sprang forward to shake the horny hand stretched forward in the action of blessing. She pressed it between both of hers, as she rapidly poured out questions. Mr. Bellingham was not altogether comfortable at seeing one whom he had already begun to appropriate as his own, so tenderly familiar with a hard-featured, meanly-dressed day-labourer. He sauntered to the window, and looked out into the grass-grown farmyard; but he could not help overhearing some of the conversation, which seemed to him carried on too much in the tone of equality. "And who's yon?" asked the old labourer at last. "Is he your sweetheart? Your missis's son, I reckon. He's a spruce young chap, anyhow."
Mr. Bellingham's "blood of all the Howards" rose and tingled about his ears, so that he could not hear Ruth's answer. It began by "Hush, Thomas; pray hush!" but how it went on he did not catch. The idea of his being Mrs. Mason's son! It was really too ridiculous; but, like most things which are "too ridiculous," it made him very angry. He was hardly himself again when Ruth shyly came to the window-recess and asked him if he would like to see the house-place, into which the front-door entered; many people thought it very pretty, she said, half-timidly, for his face had unconsciously assumed a hard and haughty expression, which he could not instantly soften down. He followed her, however; but before he left the kitchen he saw the old man standing, looking at Ruth's companion with a strange, grave air of dissatisfaction.
They went along one or two zig-zag damp-smelling stone passages, and then entered the house-place, or common sitting-room for a farmer's family in that part of the country. The front door opened into it, and several other apartments issued out of it, such as the dairy, the state bedroom (which was half-parlour as well), and a small room which had been appropriated to the late Mrs. Hilton, where she sat, or more frequently lay, commanding through the open door the comings and goings of her household. In those days the house-place had been a cheerful room, full of life, with the passing to and fro of husband, child, and servants; with a great merry wood-fire crackling and blazing away every evening, and hardly let out in the very heat of summer; for with the thick stone walls, and the deep window-seats, and the drapery of vine-leaves and ivy, that room, with its flag-floor, seemed always to want the sparkle and cheery warmth of a fire. But now the green shadows from without seemed to have become black in the uninhabited desolation. The oaken shovel-board, the heavy dresser, and the carved cupboards, were now dull and damp, which were formerly polished up to the brightness of a looking-glass where the fire-blaze was for ever glinting; they only added to. the oppressive gloom; the flag-floor was wet with heavy moisture. Ruth stood gazing into the room, seeing nothing of what was present. She saw a vision of former days--an evening in the days of her childhood; her father sitting in the "master's corner" near the fire, sedately smoking his pipe, while he dreamily watched his wife and child; her mother reading to her, as she sat on a little stool at her feet. It was gone--all gone into the land of shadows; but for the moment it seemed so present in the old room, that Ruth believed her actual life to be the dream. Then, 'still silent, she went on into her mother's parlour. But there, the bleak look of what had once been full of peace and mother's love, struck cold on her heart. She uttered a cry, and threw herself down by the sofa, hiding her face in her hands, while her frame quivered with her repressed sobs.
- up the steps, depositing her there with her back to the
- I craned from the window, searching the platform right
- Man's beautiful partner, and I counted the interview one
- that kind. If we have tea here, no doubt we can learn all
- of the Eurasian. She turned and faced him, threw up both
- From the time of the bank affair up to the moment when
- passed between us. This was the situation when the train
- eyes dulled in tearless agony—have I not said that it
- In three strides he found his foot splashing in water.
- The work of the modern journalist had many points of contact
- it. Day and night we were watched by those ghastly yellow
- cab, bound for Euston, I sat back with a long-drawn sigh.
- For three weeks Hanson had remained. During this time he
- thought of the project; I wondered if I should ever live
- time to embark upon an expedition patently burglarious!
- might have spoken of her husband's unwise investments!
- in all the finer points of big game hunting. Of an evening
- Might I not, by my mere presence in that place, unwittingly
- Yes! He travelled home as Ahmadeen—the only time he
- The word was unnecessary, for I was staring fixedly in
- his boys had deserted, for a hunting party from the bungalow
- I could scarcely believe that any man, single-handed, could
- Kentish hop gardens, amid a rural peace unbroken. My companion
- the Oriental traveller stepped out on to the platform.
- one of our party was unable anywhere to purchase either
- that his house, Uplands, was near H—, for which I was
- minutes to eleven upon the H— platform, watching the
- But a man who has selected the career of a war correspondent
- of an ancient tertiary epoch) of which these islands are
- me where to find Hassan of Aleppo, I won't even ask you
- it became a question of terms. I can repay you by helping
- I had not seen him enter. But, suddenly looking up, I met
- bivouacked near us. They had no shelter during the rain.
- at the extreme edge of the thicket. I looked out over a
- I had not seen him enter. But, suddenly looking up, I met
- had spread on to the pathways and contested survival with
- about the premises by night. He came and went as he saw
- that tea should be served in the pretty garden which opened
- Having reclosed the door, he turned and leaned in through
- There is an inn, she said, about a mile ahead, where
- pouring into the cave of the dragon through the open door
- Hassan of Aleppo, the most dreadful being I had ever encountered
- she abruptly removed the apparatus, and, stooping to the
- the blackened panels applied an ingenious little instrument
- the moving ray. Inhaling sibilantly, Max leaped after her.
- When upon the right I heard a faint rustling I started,
- silence, and, save for a couple of farm hands, without
- floor beside me. With her wet garments clinging to her
- Behind a great flowering shrub Hanson lay gazing at the
- Very well, she said, and rested her elbows upon the table