thou so
disquieted within me?
O put thy trust in God: for I will yet thank him, which is
the help of my countenance, and my God.
And when he had finished he shut the book, and sighed with the
satisfaction of having done his duty. The words of holy trust, though
perhaps they were not fully understood, carried a faithful peace
down into the depths of his soul. As he looked up, he saw the young
couple standing on the middle of the floor. He pushed his iron-rimmed
spectacles on to his forehead, and rose to greet the daughter of his
old master and ever-honoured mistress.
"God bless thee, lass; God bless thee! My old eyes are glad to see
thee again."
Ruth sprang forward to shake the horny hand stretched forward in
the action of blessing. She pressed it between both of hers, as
she rapidly poured out questions. Mr Bellingham was not altogether
comfortable at seeing one whom he had already begun to appropriate as
his own, so tenderly familiar with a hard-featured, meanly-dressed
day-labourer. He sauntered to the window, and looked out into the
grass-grown farm-yard; but he could not help overhearing some of the
conversation, which seemed to him carried on too much in the tone of
equality. "And who's yon?" asked the old labourer at last. "Is he
your sweetheart? Your missis's son, I reckon. He's a spruce young
chap, anyhow."
Mr Bellingham's "blood of all the Howards" rose and tingled about
his ears, so that he could not hear Ruth's answer. It began by "Hush,
Thomas; pray hush!" but how it went on he did not catch. The idea of
his being Mrs Mason's son! It was really too ridiculous; but, like
most things which are "too ridiculous," it made him very angry. He
was hardly himself again when Ruth shyly came to the window-recess
and asked him if he would like to see the house-place, into which
the front door entered; many people thought it very pretty, she said,
half timidly, for his face had unconsciously assumed a hard and
haughty expression, which he could not instantly soften down. He
followed her, however; but before he left the kitchen he saw the old
man standing, looking at Ruth's companion with a strange, grave air
of dissatisfaction.
They went along one or two zigzag, damp-smelling stone passages, and
then entered the house-place, or common sitting-room for a farmer's
family in that part of the country. The front door opened into it,
and several other apartments issued out of it, such as the dairy,
the state bedroom (which was half-parlour as well), and a small room
which had been appropriated to the late Mrs Hilton, where she sat,
or more frequently lay, commanding through the open door the comings
and goings of her household. In those days the house-place had been a
cheerful room, full of life, with the passing to and fro of husband,
child, and servants; with a great merry wood fire crackling and
blazing away every evening, and hardly let out in the very heat of
summer; for with the thick stone walls, and the deep window-seats,
and the drapery of vine-leaves and ivy, that room, with its
flag-floor, seemed always to want the sparkle and cheery warmth of a
fire. But now the green shadows from without seemed to have become
black in the uninhabited desolation. The oaken shovel-board, the
heavy dresser, and the carved cupboards, were now dull and damp,
which were formerly polished up to the brightness of a looking-glass
where the fire-blaze was for ever glinting; they only added to the
oppressive gloom; the flag-floor was wet with heavy moisture. Ruth
stood gazing into the room, seeing nothing of what was present. She
saw a vision of former days—an evening in the days of her childhood;
her father sitting in the "master's corner" near the fire, sedately
smoking his pipe, while he dreamily watched his wife and child; her
mother reading to her, as she sat on a little stool at her feet. It
was gone—all gone into the land of shadows; but for the moment it
seemed so present in the old room, that Ruth believed her actual life
to be
disquieted within me?
O put thy trust in God: for I will yet thank him, which is
the help of my countenance, and my God.
And when he had finished he shut the book, and sighed with the
satisfaction of having done his duty. The words of holy trust, though
perhaps they were not fully understood, carried a faithful peace
down into the depths of his soul. As he looked up, he saw the young
couple standing on the middle of the floor. He pushed his iron-rimmed
spectacles on to his forehead, and rose to greet the daughter of his
old master and ever-honoured mistress.
"God bless thee, lass; God bless thee! My old eyes are glad to see
thee again."
Ruth sprang forward to shake the horny hand stretched forward in
the action of blessing. She pressed it between both of hers, as
she rapidly poured out questions. Mr Bellingham was not altogether
comfortable at seeing one whom he had already begun to appropriate as
his own, so tenderly familiar with a hard-featured, meanly-dressed
day-labourer. He sauntered to the window, and looked out into the
grass-grown farm-yard; but he could not help overhearing some of the
conversation, which seemed to him carried on too much in the tone of
equality. "And who's yon?" asked the old labourer at last. "Is he
your sweetheart? Your missis's son, I reckon. He's a spruce young
chap, anyhow."
Mr Bellingham's "blood of all the Howards" rose and tingled about
his ears, so that he could not hear Ruth's answer. It began by "Hush,
Thomas; pray hush!" but how it went on he did not catch. The idea of
his being Mrs Mason's son! It was really too ridiculous; but, like
most things which are "too ridiculous," it made him very angry. He
was hardly himself again when Ruth shyly came to the window-recess
and asked him if he would like to see the house-place, into which
the front door entered; many people thought it very pretty, she said,
half timidly, for his face had unconsciously assumed a hard and
haughty expression, which he could not instantly soften down. He
followed her, however; but before he left the kitchen he saw the old
man standing, looking at Ruth's companion with a strange, grave air
of dissatisfaction.
They went along one or two zigzag, damp-smelling stone passages, and
then entered the house-place, or common sitting-room for a farmer's
family in that part of the country. The front door opened into it,
and several other apartments issued out of it, such as the dairy,
the state bedroom (which was half-parlour as well), and a small room
which had been appropriated to the late Mrs Hilton, where she sat,
or more frequently lay, commanding through the open door the comings
and goings of her household. In those days the house-place had been a
cheerful room, full of life, with the passing to and fro of husband,
child, and servants; with a great merry wood fire crackling and
blazing away every evening, and hardly let out in the very heat of
summer; for with the thick stone walls, and the deep window-seats,
and the drapery of vine-leaves and ivy, that room, with its
flag-floor, seemed always to want the sparkle and cheery warmth of a
fire. But now the green shadows from without seemed to have become
black in the uninhabited desolation. The oaken shovel-board, the
heavy dresser, and the carved cupboards, were now dull and damp,
which were formerly polished up to the brightness of a looking-glass
where the fire-blaze was for ever glinting; they only added to the
oppressive gloom; the flag-floor was wet with heavy moisture. Ruth
stood gazing into the room, seeing nothing of what was present. She
saw a vision of former days—an evening in the days of her childhood;
her father sitting in the "master's corner" near the fire, sedately
smoking his pipe, while he dreamily watched his wife and child; her
mother reading to her, as she sat on a little stool at her feet. It
was gone—all gone into the land of shadows; but for the moment it
seemed so present in the old room, that Ruth believed her actual life
to be
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