Ruth | Page 5

or show any outward manifestation of
sleepiness. They only sighed a little when Ruth told Mrs. Mason the
hour of the night, as the result of her errand; for they knew that, stay up

as late as they might, the work-hours of the next day must begin at
eight, and their young limbs were very weary.
Mrs. Mason worked away as hard as any of them; but she was older
and tougher; and, besides, the gains were hers. But even she perceived
that some rest was needed. "Young ladies! there will be an interval
allowed of half-an-hour. Ring the bell, Miss Sutton. Martha shall bring
you up some bread, and cheese, and beer. You will be so good as to eat
it standing--away from the dresses--and to have your hands washed
ready for work when I return. In half-an-hour," said she once more,
very distinctly; and then she left the room.
It was curious to watch the young girls as they instantaneously availed
themselves of Mrs. Mason's absence. One fat, particularly
heavy-looking damsel laid her head on her folded arms and was asleep
in a moment; refusing to be wakened for her share in the frugal supper,
but springing up with a frightened look at the sound of Mrs. Mason's
returning footstep, even while it was still far off on the echoing stairs.
Two or three others huddled over the scanty fireplace, which, with
every possible economy of space, and no attempt whatever at anything
of grace or ornament, was inserted in the slight, flat-looking wall, that
had been run up by the present owner of the property to portion off this
division of the grand old drawing-room of the mansion. Some
employed the time in eating their bread and cheese, with as measured
and incessant a motion of the jaws (and almost as stupidly placid an
expression of countenance), as you may see in cows ruminating in the
first meadow you happen to pass.
Some held up admiringly the beautiful ball-dress in progress, while
others examined the effect, backing from the object to be criticised in
the true artistic manner. Others stretched themselves into all sorts of
postures to relieve the weary muscles; one or two gave vent to all the
yawns, coughs, and sneezes that bad been pent up so long in the
presence of Mrs. Mason. But Ruth Hilton sprang to the large old
window, and pressed against it as a bird presses against the bars of its
cage. She put back the blind, and gazed into the quiet moonlight night.
It was doubly light--almost as much so as day--for everything was

covered with the deep snow which had been falling silently ever since
the evening before. The window was in a square recess; the old strange
little panes of glass had been replaced by those which gave more light.
A little distance off, the feathery branches of a larch waved softly to
and fro in the scarcely perceptible night-breeze. Poor old larch! the
time had been when it had stood in a pleasant lawn, with the tender
grass creeping caressingly up its very trunk; but now the lawn was
divided into yards and squalid back premises, and the larch was pent up
and girded about with flagstones. The snow lay thick on its boughs, and
now and then fell noiselessly down. The old stables had been added to,
and altered into a dismal street of mean-looking houses, back to back
with the ancient mansions. And over all these changes from grandeur to
squalor, bent down the purple heavens with their unchanging
splendour!
Ruth pressed her hot forehead against the cold glass, and strained her
aching eyes in gazing out on the lovely sky of a winter's night. The
impulse was strong upon her to snatch up a shawl, and, wrapping it
round her head, to sally forth and enjoy the glory; and time was when
that impulse would have been instantly followed; but now, Ruth's eyes
filled with tears, and she stood quite still dreaming of the days that
were gone. Some one touched her shoulder while her thoughts were far
away, remembering past January nights, which had resembled this, and
were yet so different.
"Ruth, love," whispered a girl, who had unwillingly distinguished
herself by a long hard fit of coughing, "come and have some supper.
You don't know yet how it helps one through the night."
"One run--one blow of the fresh air would do me more good," said
Ruth.
"Not such a night as this," replied the other, shivering at the very
thought.
"And why not such a night as this, Jenny?" answered Ruth. "Oh! at
home I have many a time run up the lane all the way to the mill, just to
see the icicles hang on the great wheel; and, when I