ne
was habitually polite and courteous, and was just now anxious to
propitiate his host, whom he looked upon as a very useful man.
Whatever this sense of inferiority arose from, Mr Bradshaw was
anxious to relieve himself of it, and imagined that if he could make
more display of his wealth his object would be obtained. Now his
house in Eccleston was old-fashioned, and ill-calculated to exhibit
money's worth. His mode of living, though strained to a high pitch
just at this time, he became aware was no more than Mr Donne was
accustomed to every day of his life. The first day at dessert, some
remark (some opportune remark, as Mr Bradshaw in his innocence had
thought) was made regarding the price of pine-apples, which was
rather exorbitant that year, and Mr Donne asked Mrs Bradshaw, with
quiet surprise, if they had no pinery, as if to be without a pinery
were indeed a depth of pitiable destitution. In fact, Mr Donne had
been born and cradled in all that wealth could purchase, and so had
his ancestors before him for so many generations, that refinement
and luxury seemed the natural condition of man, and they that dwelt
without were in the position of monsters. The absence was noticed;
but not the presence.

Now, Mr Bradshaw knew that the house and grounds of Eagle's Crag were
exorbitantly dear, and yet he really thought of purchasing them. And
as one means of exhibiting his wealth, and so raising himself up to
the level of Mr Donne, he thought that if he could take the latter
down to Abermouth, and show him the place for which, "because his
little girls had taken a fancy to it," he was willing to give the
fancy-price of fourteen thousand pounds, he should at last make those
half-shut dreamy eyes open wide, and their owner confess that, in
wealth at least, the Eccleston manufacturer stood on a par with him.

All these mingled motives caused the determination which made Ruth
sit in the little inn-parlour at Abermouth during the wild storm's
passage.

She wondered if she had fulfilled all Mr Bradshaw's directions. She
looked at the letter. Yes! everything was done. And now home with her
news, through the wet lane, where the little pools by the roadside
reflected the deep blue sky and the round white clouds with even
deeper blue and clearer white; and the rain-drops hung so thick on
the trees, that even a little bird's flight was enough to shake them
down in a bright shower as of rain. When she told the news, Mary
exclaimed,