h a look of spite at me, 'about
my poor Ruth's love for you, to feed your cursed vanity. Because a
set of asses call you the finest man in England; there is no maid (I
suppose) who is not in love with you. I believe you are as deep as you
are long, John Ridd. Shall I ever get to the bottom of your character?'

This was a little too much for me. Any insult I could take (with
goodwill) from a white-haired man, and one who was my relative; unless
it touched my love for Lorna, or my conscious modesty. Now both of
these were touched to the quick by the sentences of the old gentleman.
Therefore, without a word, I went; only making a bow to him.

But women who are (beyond all doubt) the mothers of all mischief, also
nurse that babe to sleep, when he is too noisy. And there was Ruth, as I
took my horse (with a trunk of frippery on him), poor little Ruth was
at the bridle, and rusting all the knops of our town-going harness with
tears.

'Good-bye dear,' I said, as she bent her head away from me; 'shall I put
you up on the saddle, dear?'

'Cousin Ridd, you may take it lightly,' said Ruth, turning full upon me,
'and very likely you are right, according to your nature'--this was
the only cutting thing the little soul ever said to me--'but oh, Cousin
Ridd, you have no idea of the pain you will leave behind you.'

'How can that be so, Ruth, when I am as good as ordered to be off the
premises?'

'In the first place, Cousin Ridd, grandfather will be angry with
himself, for having so ill-used you. And now he is so weak and poorly,
that he is always repenting. In the next place I shall scold him first,
until he admits his sorrow; and when he has admitted it, I shall scold
myself for scolding him. And then he will come round again, and think
that I was hard on him; and end perhaps by hating you--for he is like a
woman now, John.'

That last little touch of self-knowledge in Ruth, which she delivered
with a gleam of some secret pleasantry, made me stop and look closely
at her: but she pretended not to know it. 'There is something in this
child,' I thought, 'very different from other girls. What it is I cannot
tell; for one very seldom gets at it.'

At any rate the upshot was that the good horse went back to stable, and
had another feed of corn, while my wrath sank within me. There are two
things, according to my experience (which may not hold with another man)
fitted beyond any others to take hot tempers out of us. The first is
t