slamming the door after him. The master called me in to prayers, but
I can't say I could put my mind to them, for my heart was beating so.
However, it was a comfort to have had an offer of holy matrimony;
and though it flustered me, it made me think more of myself. In the
night, I began to wonder if I'd not been cruel and hard to him. You
see, I were feverish-like; and the old song of Barbary Allen would
keep running in my head, and I thought I were Barbary, and he were
young Jemmy Gray, and that maybe he'd die for love of me; and I
pictured him to mysel', lying on his death-bed, with his face turned
to the wall, 'wi' deadly sorrow sighing,' and I could ha' pinched
mysel' for having been so like cruel Barbary Allen. And when I got up
next day, I found it hard to think on the real Jerry Dixon I had seen
the night before, apart from the sad and sorrowful Jerry I thought on
a-dying, when I were between sleeping and waking. And for many a day
I turned sick, when I heard the passing bell, for I thought it were
the bell loud-knelling which were to break my heart wi' a sense
of what I'd missed in saying 'No' to Jerry, and so killing him
with cruelty. But in less than a three week, I heard parish bells
a-ringing merrily for a wedding; and in the course of a morning,
some one says to me, 'Hark! how the bells is ringing for Jerry
Dixon's wedding!' And, all on a sudden, he changed back again from a
heart-broken young fellow, like Jemmy Gray, into a stout, middle-aged
man, ruddy-complexioned, with a wart on his left cheek like life!"

Sally waited for some exclamation at the conclusion of her tale; but
receiving none, she stepped softly to the bedside, and there lay
Ruth, peaceful as death, with her baby on her breast.

"I thought I'd lost some of my gifts if I could not talk a body to
sleep," said Sally, in a satisfied and self-complacent tone.

Youth is strong and powerful, and makes a hard battle against sorrow.
So Ruth strove and strengthened, and her baby flourished accordingly;
and before the little celandines were out on the hedge-banks, or the
white violets had sent forth their fragrance from the border under
the south wall of Miss Benson's small garden, Ruth was able to carry
her baby into that sheltered place on sunny days.

She often wished to thank Mr Benson and his sister, but she did not
know how to tell the deep gratitude she felt, and therefore she was
silent. But they understood her silence well. One day, as s