oad, is it,
Ruth?"

"Yes, sir, just over the bridge, and up the hill where the elm-trees
meet overhead and make a green shade; and then comes the dear old
Grange, that I shall never see again."

"Never! Nonsense, Ruthie; it is only six miles off; you may see it
any day. It is not an hour's ride."

"Perhaps I may see it again when I am grown old; I did not think
exactly what 'never' meant; it is so very long since I was there, and
I don't see any chance of my going for years and years, at any rate."

"Why, Ruth, you--we may go next Sunday afternoon, if you like."

She looked up at him with a lovely light of pleasure in her face at
the idea. "How, sir? Can I walk it between afternoon service and the
time Mrs Mason comes home? I would go for only one glimpse; but if I
could get into the house--oh, sir! if I could just see mamma's room
again!"

He was revolving plans in his head for giving her this pleasure, and
he had also his own in view. If they went in any of his carriages,
the loitering charm of the walk would be lost; and they must, to
a certain degree, be encumbered by, and exposed to, the notice of
servants.

"Are you a good walker, Ruth? Do you think you can manage six miles?
If we set off at two o'clock, we shall be there by four, without
hurrying; or say half-past four. Then we might stay two hours, and
you could show me all the old walks and old places you love, and we
could still come leisurely home. Oh, it's all arranged directly!"

"But do you think it would be right, sir? It seems as if it would be
such a great pleasure, that it must be in some way wrong."

"Why, you little goose, what can be wrong in it?"

"In the first place, I miss going to church by setting out at two,"
said Ruth, a little gravely.

"Only for once. Surely you don't see any harm in missing church for
once? You will go in the morning, you know."

"I wonder if Mrs Mason would think it right--if she would allow it?"

"No, I dare say not. But you don't mean to be governed by Mrs Mason's
notions of right and wrong. She thought it right to treat that poor
girl Palmer in the way you told me about. You would think that wrong,
you know, and so would every one of sense and feeling. Come, Ruth,
don't pin your faith on any one, but judge for yourself. The pleasure
is perfectly innocent; it is not a selfish pleasure either, for I
shall enjoy it to the full as much as you will. I shall like to see
the places where you spent your childh