ry broad, Cousin Ridd. I thought that you would eat me.
But I have come to know, since then, how very kind and good you are."

"And will you come and dance again, at my wedding, Cousin Ruth?"

She nearly let the bottle fall, the last of which she was sloping
carefully into a vessel of bright glass; and then she raised her hand
again, and finished it judiciously. And after that, she took the window,
to see that all her work was clear; and then she poured me out a glass
and said, with very pale cheeks, but else no sign of meaning about her,
"What did you ask me, Cousin Ridd?"

"Nothing of any importance, Ruth; only we are so fond of you. I mean to
be married as soon as I can. Will you come and help us?"

"To be sure I will, Cousin Ridd--unless, unless, dear grandfather cannot
spare me from the business." She went away; and her breast was heaving,
like a rick of under-carried hay. And she stood at the window long,
trying to make yawns of sighs.

For my part, I knew not what to do. And yet I could think about it, as
I never could with Lorna; with whom I was always in a whirl, from the
power of my love. So I thought some time about it; and perceived that it
was the manliest way, just to tell her everything; except that I feared
she liked me. But it seemed to me unaccountable that she did not even
ask the name of my intended wife. Perhaps she thought that it must be
Sally; or perhaps she feared to trust her voice.

"Come and sit by me, dear Ruth; and listen to a long, long story, how
things have come about with me."

"No, thank you, Cousin Ridd," she answered; "at least I mean that I
shall be happy--that I shall be ready to hear you--to listen to you, I
mean of course. But I would rather stay where I am, and have the air--or
rather be able to watch for dear grandfather coming home. He is so kind
and good to me. What should I do without him?"

Then I told her how, for years and years, I had been attached to Lorna,
and all the dangers and difficulties which had so long beset us, and
how I hoped that these were passing, and no other might come between
us, except on the score of religion; upon which point I trusted soon
to overcome my mother's objections. And then I told her how poor, and
helpless, and alone in the world, my Lorna was; and how sad all her
youth had been, until I brought her away at last. And many other little
things I mentioned, which there is no need for me again to dwell upon.
Ruth heard it all without