racter and looks by his severe illness. He grew tall and thin, and
the lovely child was lost in the handsome boy. He began to wonder,
and to question. Ruth mourned a little over the vanished babyhood,
when she was all in all, and over the childhood, whose petals had
fallen away; it seemed as though two of her children were gone--the
one an infant, the other a bright, thoughtless darling; and she
wished that they could have remained quick in her memory for ever,
instead of being absorbed in loving pride for the present boy. But
these were only fanciful regrets, flitting like shadows across a
mirror. Peace and thankfulness were once more the atmosphere of
her mind; nor was her unconsciousness disturbed by any suspicion
of Mr Farquhar's increasing approbation and admiration, which he
was diligently nursing up into love for her. She knew that he had
sent--she did not know how often he had brought--fruit for the
convalescent Leonard. She heard, on her return from her daily
employment, that Mr Farquhar had brought a little gentle pony on
which Leonard, weak as he was, might ride. To confess the truth, her
maternal pride was such that she thought that all kindness shown
to such a boy as Leonard was but natural; she believed him to be

A child whom all that looked on, loved.

As in truth he was; and the proof of this was daily shown in many
kind inquiries, and many thoughtful little offerings, besides Mr
Farquhar's. The poor (warm and kind of heart to all sorrow common
to humanity) were touched with pity for the young widow, whose only
child lay ill, and nigh unto death. They brought what they could--a
fresh egg, when eggs were scarce--a few ripe pears that grew on the
sunniest side of the humblest cottage, where the fruit was regarded
as a source of income--a call of inquiry, and a prayer that God would
spare the child, from an old crippled woman, who could scarcely drag
herself so far as the Chapel-house, yet felt her worn and weary heart
stirred with a sharp pang of sympathy, and a very present remembrance
of the time when she too was young, and saw the life-breath quiver
out of her child, now an angel in that heaven which felt more like
home to the desolate old creature than this empty earth. To all such,
when Leonard was better, Ruth went, and thanked them from her heart.
She and the old cripple sat hand in hand over the scanty fire on the
hearth of the latter, while she told in solemn, broken, homely words,
how h