 Chapter 26 of Ruth. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Cynthia Lyons. Ruth by Elizabeth Kleghorn Gaskell. Chapter 26, Mr. Bradshaw's Virtuous Indignation. So it was that Jemima no longer avoided Ruth, nor manifested by word or look the dislike which for a long time she had been scarce concealing. Ruth could not help noticing that Jemima always sought to be in her presence while she was at Mr. Bradshaw's house, either when daily teaching Mary and Elizabeth, or when she came as an occasional visitor with Mr. and Miss Benson, or by herself. Up to this time, Jemima had used no gentle skill to conceal the abruptness with which she would leave the room rather than that Ruth and she should be brought into contact. Rather than that it should fall to her lot to entertain Ruth during any part of the evening. It was months since Jemima had left off sitting in the schoolroom, as had been her want during the first few years of Ruth's governorship. Now each morning Miss Bradshaw seated herself at a little round table in the window at her work or at her writing. But whether she sowed or wrote or read, Ruth felt that she was always watching, watching. At first Ruth had welcomed all these changes in habit and behavior, as giving her a chance, she thought, by some patient waiting or some opportune show of enduring constant love to regain her lost friends' regard. But by and by the icy chillness immovable in gray struck more to her heart than many sudden words of unkindness could have done. They might be attributed to the hot impulses of a hasty temper to the vehement anger of an accuser, but this measured manner was the conscious result of some deep-seated feeling. This cold sternness befitted the calm implacability of some severe judge. The watching, which Ruth felt was ever upon her, made her unconsciously shiver, as you would if you saw that the passionless eyes of the dead were visibly gazing upon you. Her very being shriveled and parched up in Jemima's presence as if blown upon by a bitter, keen east wind. Jemima bent every power she possessed upon the one object of ascertaining what Ruth really was. Sometimes the strain was very painful. The constant tension made her soul weary, and she moaned aloud, and, uprated circumstance, she dared not go higher to the maker of circumstance for having deprived her of her unsuspicious happy ignorance. Things were in this state when Mr. Richard Bradshaw came on his annual home visit. He was to remain another year in London, and then to return and be admitted into the firm. After he had been a week at home he grew tired of the monotonous regularity of his father's household, and began to complain of it to Jemima. I wish Farkehar were at home. Though he is such a stiff, quiet old fellow, his coming in the evening makes a change. What has become of the mills's? They used to drink tea with us sometimes, formerly. Oh, Papa and Mr. Mills took opposite sides at the election, and we have never visited since. I don't think there are any great loss. Anybody is a loss. The stupidest bore that ever was would be a blessing if he only would come in sometimes. Mr. and Miss Benson have drunk tea here twice since you came. Come, that's capital apropos of stupid boars you talk of the Benson's. I did not think you had so much discrimination, my little sister. Jemima looked up in surprise and then reddened angrily. I never meant to say a word against Mr. or Miss Benson, and that you know quite well, Dick. Never mind. I won't tell tales. They are stupid old fogies, but they are better than nobody, especially as that handsome governess of the girls always comes with them to be looked at. There was a little pause. Richard broke it by saying, Do you know, Mimi? I have a notion. If she plays her cards well, she may hook Farkehar. Who? asked Jemima shortly, though she knew quite well. Mrs. Denby, to be sure, we were talking of her, you know. Farkehar asked me to dine with him at his hotel as he passed through town, and I had my own reasons for going and trying to creep up his sleeve. I wanted him to tip me as he used to do. For shame, Dick, burst in Jemima. Well, well, not tip me exactly, but lend me some money. The governess keeps me duly short. Why, it was only yesterday, when my father was speaking about your expenses and your allowance, I heard you say that you'd more than you knew how to spend. Don't you see that was the perfection of art? If my father had thought me extravagant, he would have kept me in with the tight rain. As it is, I'm in great hope of a handsome addition, I can tell you it's needed. If my father had given me what I ought to have had at first, I should not have been driven to the speculations and messes I've gotten into. What speculations? What messes? asked Jemima with anxious eagerness. Oh, messes was not the right word. Speculations hardly was, for they are sure to turn out well, and then I shall surprise my father with my riches. He saw that he had gone a little too far in his confidence and was trying to draw in. But what do you mean? Do explain it to me. Never you trouble your head about my business, my dear. Women can't understand the share market and such things. Don't think I've forgotten the awful blunders you made when you tried to read the state of the money market allowed to my father that night when he had lost his spectacles. What were we talking of? Oh, oh, a far cahar and pretty Mrs. Denby. Yes, I soon found out that was the subject my gentleman liked me to dwell on. He did not talk about her much himself, but his eyes sparkled when I told him what enthusiastic letters Polly and Elizabeth wrote about her. How old you think she is? I know, said Jemima, at least I heard her age spoken about amongst other things when first she came. She will be five and twenty this autumn. And far cahar is forty if he is a day. She's young, too, to have such a boy as Leonard, younger looking, or full as young looking as she is. I tell you what, Mimi, she looks younger than you. How old are you? Three and twenty, ain't it? Last March, replied Jemima. You'll have to make haste and pick up somebody if you're losing your good looks at this rate. Why, Jemima, I thought you had a good chance of far cahar a year or two ago. How come you have lost him? I'd far rather you'd had him than that proud haughty Mrs. Denby who flashes her great-gray eyes upon me if ever I dare pay her a compliment. She ought to think at an honour that I take that much notice of her. Besides, far cahar is rich, and it's keeping the business of the firm in one's own family, and if he marries Mrs. Denby, she will be sure to be wanting Leonard in when he's of age, and I won't have that. Try for far cahar, Mimi. Ten to one it's not too late. I wish I'd brought you a pink bonnet down. You go about so dowdy, so careless of how you look. If Mr. Far cahar has not liked me as I am, said Jemima, choking, I don't want to owe him to a pink bonnet. Nonsense, I don't like to have my sister's governess stealing a march on my sister. I tell you, far cahar is worth trying for. If you'll wear the pink bonnet, I'll give it to you, and I'll back you against Mrs. Denby. I think you might have done something with our member, as my father calls him, when you had him so long in the house. But altogether I should like far cahar best for a brother-in-law. By the way, have you heard down here that Dunn is going to be married? I heard of it in town, just before I left, from a man that was good authority. Some Sir Thomas Campbell's seventh daughter, a girl without a penny, father ruined himself by gambling and obliged to live abroad. But Dunn is not a man to care for any obstacle from all accounts, when once he has taken a fancy. It was love at first sight, they say. I believe he did not know of her existence a month ago. No, we have not heard it, replied Jemima. My father would like to know. Tell it him, continued she, as she was leaving the room to be alone, in order to still her habitual agitation whenever she heard Mr. Falkahar and Ruth couple together. Mr. Falkahar came home the day before Richard Bradshaw left for town. He dropped in after tea at the Bradshaw's. He was evidently disappointed to see none but the family there, and looked round whenever the door opened. Look, look! said Dick to his sister. I wanted to make sure of his coming in to-night to save me my father's parting exhortations against the temptations of the world, as if I did not know much more of the world than he does. So I used a spell I thought would prove efficacious. I told him that we should be by ourselves, with the exception of Mrs. Denby, and look how he is expecting her to come in. Jemima did see, did understand. She understood, too, why certain packets were put carefully on one side, apart from the rest of the purchases of Swiss toys and jewelry, by which Mr. Falkahar proved that none of Mr. Bradshaw's family had been forgotten by him during his absence. Before the end of the evening she was very conscious that her sore heart had not forgotten how to be jealous. Her brother did not allow a word, a look, or an incident which might be supposed on Mr. Falkahar's side to refer to Ruth to pass unnoticed. He pointed out all to his sister, never dreaming of the torture he was inflicting, only anxious to prove his own extreme penetration. At length, Jemima could stand at no longer and left the room. She went into the school room where the shutters were not closed. As it only looked into the garden, she opened the window to let the cool night air blow in on her hot cheeks. The clouds were hurrying over the moon's face in a tempestuous and unstable manner, making all things seem unreal, now clear out in its bright light, now trembling and quivering in shadow. The pain at her heart seemed to make Jemima's brain grow dull. She laid her head on her arms, which rested on the windowsill, and grew dizzy with the sick, weary notion that the earth was wandering lawless and aimless through the heavens, where all seemed one, tossed and whirling rack of clouds. It was a waking nightmare from the uneasy heaviness of which she was thankful to be roused by Dick's entrance. What? You are here, are you? I have been looking everywhere for you. I wanted to ask you if you have any spare money you could lend me for a few weeks. How much do you want? asked Jemima in a dull, hopeless voice. Oh, the more the better, but I should be glad of any trifle. I am kept so confoundedly short. When Jemima returned with her little store, even her careless, selfish brother was struck by the oneness of her face, lighted by the bed candle she carried. Come, Mimi, don't give it up. If I were you, I would have a good try against Mrs. Denby. I'll send you the bonnet as soon as ever I get back to town, and you pluck up a spirit, and I'll back you against her even yet. It seemed to Jemima strange, and yet only a fitting part of this strange, chaotic world, to find that her brother, who was the last person to whom she could have given her confidence in her own family, and almost the last person of her acquaintance to whom she could look for real help and sympathy, should have been the only one to hit upon the secret of her love, and the idea passed away from his mind as quickly as all ideas not bearing upon his own self-interests did. The night, the sleepless night, was so crowded and haunted by the miserable images that she longed for day, and when day came with its stinging realities, she wearied and grew sick for the solitude of night. For the next week she seemed to see and hear nothing but what confirmed the idea of Mr. Falkahar's decided attachment to Ruth. Even her mother spoke of it as a thing which was impending, and which she wondered how Mr. Bradshaw would like, for his approval or disapproval was the standard by which she measured all things. O merciful God, pray Jemima, in the dead silence of the night, the strain is too great, I cannot bear it longer. My life, my love, the very essence of me, which is myself through time and eternity, and on the other side there is all-pitying charity. If she had not been what she is, if she had shown any sign of triumph, any knowledge of her prize, if she had made any effort to gain his dear heart, I must have given way long ago and taunted her, even if I did not tell others, taunted her, even though I sank down to the pit the next moment. The temptation is too strong for me, O Lord, where is thy peace that I believed in, in my childhood, that I hear people speaking of now as if it hushed up the troubles of life and had not to be sought for, sought for as with tears of blood. There was no sound nor answer to this wild imploring cry which Jemima half-thought must force out a sign from heaven, but there was a dawn stealing on through the darkness of her night. It was glorious weather for the end of August. The nights were full of light as the days everywhere save in the low dusky meadows by the riverside where the mists rose and blended the pale sky with the lands below. Unknowing of the care and trouble around them, Mary and Elizabeth exalted in the weather and saw some new glory in every touch of the year's decay. They were clamorous for an expedition to the hills before the calm stillness of the autumn should be disturbed by storms. They gained permission to go on the next Wednesday, the next half-holiday. They had won their mother over to consent to a full holiday, but their father would not hear of it. Mr. Bradshaw had proposed an early dinner, but the idea was scouted out by the girls. What would the expedition be worth if they did not carry their dinners with them in baskets? Anything out of a basket and eaten in the open air was worth twenty times as much as the most sumptuous meal in the house. So the baskets were packed up while Mrs. Bradshaw wailed over probable colds to be caught from sitting on the damp ground. Ruth and Leonard were to go. Therefore, Jemima had refused all invitations to make one of the party, and yet she had a half-sympathy with her sister's joy, a sort of longing, lingering look back to the time when she too would have reveled in the prospect that lay before them. They too would grow up and suffer, though now they played regardless of their doom. The morning was bright and glorious, just cloud enough, as someone said, to make the distant plain look beautiful from the hills, with its floating shadows passing over the golden cornfields. Leonard was to join them at twelve when his lessons with Mr. Benson and the girls with their masters should be over. Ruth took off her bonnet and folded her shawl with her usual dainty, careful neatness and laid them aside in a corner of the room to be in readiness. She tried to forget the pleasure she always anticipated from a long walk towards the hills while the morning's work went on, but she showed enough sympathy to make the girls cling round her with many a caress of joyous love. Everything was beautiful in their eyes, from the shadows of the quivering leaves on the wall to the glittering beads of dew not yet absorbed by the sun, which decked the gossamer web in the vine outside the window. Eleven o'clock struck. The Latin master went away, wondering much at the radiant faces of his pupils and thinking that it was only very young people who could take such pleasure in the delectus. Ruth said, Now, let us try to be very steady this next hour, and Mary pulled back Ruth's head and gave the pretty budding mouth a kiss. They sat down to work while Mrs. Denby read aloud. A fresh sun gleam burst into the room, and they looked at each other with glad anticipating eyes. Jemima came in, ostensibly to seek for a book, but really from that sort of restless weariness of any one place of or employment which had taken possession of her since Mr. Falkahar's return. She stood before the bookcase in the recess, languidly passing over the titles in search of the one she wanted. Ruth's voice lost a tone or two of its peacefulness, and her eyes looked more dim and anxious at Jemima's presence. She wondered in her heart if she dared to ask Mrs. Bradshaw to accompany them in their expedition. Eighteen months ago, she would have urged it on her friend with soft loving entity. Now she was afraid even to propose it as a hard possibility. Everything she did or said was taken so wrongly, seemed to add to the old dislike or the later stony contempt with which Miss Bradshaw had regarded her. While they were in this way Mr. Bradshaw came into the room. His entrance, his being at home at all this time, was so unusual a thing that the reading was instantly stopped and all four involuntarily looked at him as if expecting some explanation of his unusual proceeding. His face was almost purple with suppressed agitation. Mary and Elizabeth, leave the room. Don't stay to pack up your books. Leave the room, I say. He spoke with trembling anger and the frightened girls obeyed without a word. A cloud passing over the sun cast a cold gloom into the room, which was late so bright and beaming. But by equalizing the light, it took away the dark shadow from the place where Jemima had been standing and her figure caught her father's eye. Leave the room, Jemima, said he. Why father, replied she, in an opposition that was strange even to herself, but which was prompted by the sullen passion which seethed below the stagnant surface of her life and which sought a vent in defiance. She maintained her ground, facing round upon her father, and Ruth, Ruth who had risen and stood trembling, shaking a lightning fear having shown her the precipice on which she stood. It was of no use, no quiet innocent life, no profound silence even to her own heart as to the past, the old offence could never be drowned in the deep. But, thus, when all was calm on the great broad sunny sea, it rose to the surface and faced her with its unclosed eyes and its ghastly countenance. The blood bubbled up to her brain and made such a sound there, as of boiling waters, that she did not hear the words which Mr. Bradshaw first spoke. Indeed, his speech was broken and disjointed by intense passion, but she needed not to hear, she knew. As she rose up at first, so she stood now, numb and helpless, when her ears heard again, as if the sounds were drawing nearer and becoming more distinct from some faint, vague distance of space, Mr. Bradshaw was saying if there be one sin I hate, I utterly loathe more than all others, it is wantonness, it includes all other sins, it is but of a peace that you should have come with your sickly, hypocritical face imposing upon us all. I trust Benson did not know of it, for his own sake I trust not. Before God, if he got you into my house on false pretenses, he shall find his charity at other men's expense, shall cost him dear. You, the common talk of Eccleston for your profligacy! He was absolutely choked by his boiling indignation. Ruth stood speechless, motionless, her head drooped a little forward, her eyes were more than half failed by the large quivering lids, her arms hung down straight and heavy. At last she heaved the weight off her heart enough to say, in a faint moaning voice speaking with infinite difficulty. I was so young. The more depraved, the more disgusting you, Mr. Bradshaw exclaimed, almost glad that the woman unresisting so long should now begin to resist. But to his surprise, for in his anger he had forgotten her presence, Jemima moved forwards and said, Father, you hold your tongue, Jemima. You have grown more and more insolent, more and more disobedient every day. I now know who to thank for it. When such a woman came into my family, there is no wonder at any corruption, any evil, any defilement. Father, not a word. If in your disobedience you choose to stay and hear what no modest young woman could put herself in the way of hearing, you shall be silent when I bid you. The only good you can gain is in the way of warning. Look at that woman, indicating Ruth, who moved her drooping head a little on one side, as if by such motion she could avert the pitiless pointing, her face growing whiter and whiter, still every instant. Look at that woman, I say, corrupt, long before she was your age, hypocrite for years. If ever you or any child of mine cared for her, shake her off from you, as St. Paul shook off the viper, even into the fire. He stopped for very want of breath. Jemima, all flushed and panting, went up and stood side by side with one Ruth. She took the cold, dead hand, tongue next to her in her warm, convulsive grasp, and, holding it so tight that it was blue and discolored for days, she spoke out beyond all power of restraint from her father. Father, I will speak. I will not keep silence. I will bear witness to Ruth. I have hated her. So keenly may God forgive me, but you may know from that that my witness is true. I have hated her, and my hatred was only quenched into contempt, not contempt now, dear Ruth, dear Ruth. This was spoken with infinite softness and tenderness, and in spite of her father's fierce eyes and passionate gesture. I heard what you have learnt now, Father, weeks and weeks ago, a year it may be. The time of late has been so long, and I shuddered up from her and from her sin, and I might have spoken of it and told it there and then if I had not been afraid that it was from no good motive I should act in doing so, but to gain away to the desire of my own jealous heart. Yes, Father, to show you what a witness I am for Ruth, I will own that I was stabbed to the heart with jealousy. Someone, someone cared for Ruth that, oh, Father, spare me saying all. Her face was double-died with crimson blushes, and she paused for one moment no more. I watched her, and I watched her with my wild-beast eyes. If I had seen one faltering with duty, if I had witnessed one flickering shadow of untruth in word or action, if more than all things my woman's instinct had ever been conscious of the faintest speck of impurity in thought or word or look, my old hate would have flamed out with the flame of hell, my contempt would have turned to loathing disgust, instead of my being full of pity and the stirrings of new awakened love and most true respect. Father, I have borne my witness, and I will tell you how much your witness is worth, said her Father, beginning low, that his pent-up wrath might have room to swell out. It only convinces me more and more how deep is the corruption this wanton has spread in my family. She has come amongst us with her innocent seeming and spread her nets well and skillfully. She has turned right into wrong and wrong into right and taught you all to be uncertain whether there be any such thing as vice in the world or whether it ought not to be looked upon as virtue. She has led you to the brink of the deep pit, ready for the first chance circumstance to push you in. And I trusted. I trusted her. I welcomed her. I have done very wrong, murmured Ruth, but so low that perhaps he did not hear her for he went on lashing himself up. I welcomed her. I was duped into allowing her bastard. I sickened at the thought of it. At the mention of Leonard, Ruth lifted up her eyes for the first time since the conversation began, the pupils dilating as if she were just becoming aware of some new agony in store for her. I have seen such a look of terror on a poor dumb animal's countenance and once or twice on human faces. I pray I may never see it again on either. Jemima felt the hand she held in her strong grasp writhe itself free. Ruth spread her arms before her, clasping and lacing her fingers together. Her head thrown a little back as if in intense suffering. Mr. Bradshaw went on. That very child and heir of shame to associate with my own innocent children I trust they are not contaminated. I cannot bear it. Were the words wrung out of Ruth? Cannot bear it. Cannot bear it, he repeated. You must bear it, madam. Do you suppose your child is to be exempt from the penalties of his birth? Do you suppose that he alone is to be saved from the up-braiding scoff? Do you suppose that he is ever to rank with other boys who are not stained and marked with sin from their birth? Every creature in Eccleston may know what he is. Do you think they will spare him their scorn? Cannot bear it indeed. Before you went into your sin you should have thought whether you could bear the consequences or not. Have had some idea how far your offspring would be degraded and scouted till the best thing that could happen to him would be for him to be lost to all sense of shame, dead to all knowledge of guilt for his mother's sake. Ruth spoke out. She stood like a wild creature at bay, past fear now. I appeal to God against such a doom for my child. I appeal to God to help me. I am a mother, and as such I cry to God for help, for help to keep my boy in his pitying sight and to bring him up in his holy fear. Let the shame fall on me. I have deserved it, but he, he is so innocent and good. Ruth had caught up her shawl and was tying on her bonnet with her trembling hands. What if Leonard was hearing of her shame from Common Report? What would be the mysterious shock of the intelligence? She must face him and see the look in his eyes before she knew whether he recoiled from her. He might have his heart turned to hate her, by their cruel jeers. Jemima stood by, dumb and pitying. Her sorrow was past her power. She helped in arranging the dress, with one or two gentle touches, which were hardly felt by Ruth, but which called out all Mr. Bradshaw's ire afresh. He absolutely took her by the shoulders and turned her by force out of the room. In the hall and along the stairs, her passionate woeful crying was heard. The sound only concentrated Mr. Bradshaw's anger on Ruth. He held the street door open wide and said between his teeth, If ever you or your bastard darken this door again, I will have you both turned out by the police. He needed not have added this if he had seen Ruth's face. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 of Ruth This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Cynthia Lyons. Ruth by Elizabeth Clegg Horngaskel. Chapter 27 Preparing to stand on the truth As Ruth went along the accustomed streets every sight and every sound seemed to hear a new meaning and each and all to have some reference to her boy's disgrace. She held her head down and scutted along dizzy with fear lest some word should have told him what she had been and what he was before she could reach him. It was a wild, unreasoning fear but it took hold of her as strongly as if it had been well founded. And indeed the secret whispered by Mrs. Pearson whose curiosity and suspicion had been excited by Jemima's manner and confirmed since by many a little corroborating circumstance had spread abroad and was known to most of the gossips in Eccleston before it reached Mr. Bradshaw's ears. As Ruth came up to the door of the chapel house it was opened and Leonard came out bright and hopeful as the morning his face radiant at the prospect of the happy day before him. He was dressed in the clothes it had been such a pleasant pride to her to make for him. He had the dark blue ribbon tied round his neck that she had left out for him that very morning with a smiling thought of how it would set off his brown handsome face. She caught him by the hand as they met and turned him with his face homewards without a word. Her looks, her rushing movement, her silence awed him and although he wondered he did not stay to ask why she did so. The door was on the latch. She opened it and only said upstairs in a horse whisper up they went into her own room. She drew him in and bolted the door and then sitting down she placed him. She had never let go of him before her holding him with her hands on each of his shoulders and gazing into his face with a woeful look of the agony that could not find vent in words. At last she tried to speak. She tried with strong bodily effort almost amounting to convulsion but the words would not come. It was not till she saw the absolute terror depicted on his face that she found utterance and then the sight of that terror changed the words from what she meant them to have been. She drew him to her and laid her head upon his shoulder hiding her face even there. My poor boy, poor boy, my poor darling oh would that I had died, I had died in my innocent girlhood. Mother, mother, sobbed Leonard, what is the matter? Why do you look so wild and ill? Why do you call me your poor boy? Are we not going to Skarside Hill? I don't much mind it, mother, only please don't gasp and quiver so. Dearest mother, are you ill? Let me call Aunt Faith. Ruth lifted herself up and put away the hair that had fallen over and was blinding her eyes. She looked at him with intense wistfulness. Kiss me, Leonard, she said. Kiss me, my darling, once more in the old way. Leonard threw himself into her arms and hugged her with all his force and their lips clung together as in the kiss given to the dying. Leonard said she at length holding him away from her and nerving herself up to tell him all by one spasmodic effort. Listen to me. The boy stood breathless and still gazing at her. On her impetuous transit from Mr. Bradshaw's to the chapel house her wild desperate thought had been that she would call herself by every violent coarse name which the world might give her. That Leonard should hear those words applied to his mother first from her own lips but the influence of his presence for he was a holy and sacred creature in her eyes and this point remained steadfast though all the rest were upheaved, subdued her, and now it seemed as if she could not find words fine enough and pure enough to convey the truth that he must learn and should learn from no tongue but hers. Leonard, when I was very young I did very wrong. I think God who knows all will judge me more tenderly than men but I did wrong in a way which you cannot understand yet. She saw the red flush come into his cheek and it stung her as the first token of that shame which was to be his portion through life. In a way people never forget, never forgive you will hear me called the hardest names ever can be thrown at women. I have been today and my child you must bear it patiently because they will be partly true. Never get confused by your love for me into thinking that what I did was right. Where was I? said she, suddenly faltering and forgetting all she had said and all she had got to say and then seeing Leonard's face of wonder and burning shame and indignation she went on more rapidly as fearing less her strength should fail before she had ended. And Leonard continued she in a trembling sad voice this is not all the punishment of punishments lies awaiting me still it is to see you suffer from my wrong doing yes darling they will speak shameful things of you poor innocent child as well as of me who am guilty they will throw it in your teeth through life that your mother was never married was not married when you were born were you not married are you not a widow asked he abruptly for the first time getting anything like a clear idea of the real state of the case no may God forgive me and help me exclaimed she as she saw a strange look of repugnance cloud over the boy's face and felt a slight motion on his part to extricate himself from her hold it was as slight as transient as it could be over in an instant but she had taken her hands away and covered up her face with them as quickly covered up her face in shame before her child and in the bitterness of her heart she was wailing out oh would to God I had died that I had died as a baby that I had died as a little baby hanging at my mother's breast mother said Leonard timidly putting his hand on her arm but she shrank from him and continued her low passionate wailing mother said he after a pause coming nearer though she sought not mami darling said he using the caressing name which he had been trying to drop as not sufficiently manly mami my own my own dear darling mother don't believe them I don't believe them I don't I don't I don't I don't he broke out into a wild burst of crying as he said this in a moment her arms were round the boy and she was hushing him up like a baby on her bosom hush Leonard Leonard be still my child I have been too sudden with you I have done you harm oh I have done you nothing but harm cried she in a tone of bitter self reproach no mother said he stopping his tears and his eyes blazing out with earnestness there never was such a mother as you have been to me and I won't believe anyone who says it I won't and I'll knock them down if they say it again I will he clenched his fist with a fierce defiant look on his face you forget my child said Bruce in the sweetest saddest tone that ever was heard I said it of myself I said it because it was true Leonard through his arms tight round her and hit his face against her bosom she felt him pant there like some hunted creature she had no soothing comfort to give him oh that she and he lay dead at last exhausted he lay so still and motionless that she feared to look she wanted him to speak yet dreaded his first words she kissed his hair his very clothes murmuring low in articulate and moaning sounds Leonard said she Leonard look up at me Leonard look up but he only clung the closer and hit his face the more my boy said she what can I do or say if I tell you never to mind it that it is nothing I tell you false it is a bitter shame that I have drawn down upon you a shame Leonard because of me your mother but Leonard it is no disgrace or lowering of you in the eyes of God she spoke now as if she had found the clue which might lead him to rest and strength at last remember that always remember that when the time of trial comes it seems a hard and cruel thing that you should be called reproachful names by men and all for what was no fault of yours remember God's pity and God's justice and though my sin shall have made you an outcast in the world oh my child my child she felt him kiss her as if mutually trying to comfort her it gave her strength to go on darling of my heart it is only your own sin that can make you an outcast from God she grew so faint that her hold of him relaxed he looked up affrighted he brought her water he threw it over her in his terror at the notion that she was going to die and leave him he called her by every fond name imploring her to open her eyes when she partially recovered he helped her to the bed on which she lay still wand and death like she almost hoped the swoon that hung around her might be death and in that imagination she opened her eyes to take a last look at her boy she saw him pale and terror-stricken and pity for his affright roused her and made her forget herself in the wish that he should not see her death if she were indeed dying go to Aunt Faith whispered she I am weary and want sleep Leonard arose slowly and reluctantly she tried to smile upon him that what she thought would be her last look might dwell in his remembrance as tender and strong she watched him to the door she saw him hesitate and return to her he came back to her and said in a timid apprehensive tone mother will they speak to me about it Ruth closed her eyes that they might not express the agony she felt like a sharp knife at this question Leonard had asked it with a child's desire of avoiding painful and mysterious topics for no personal sense of shame as she understood it shame beginning thus early thus instantaneously no she replied you may be sure they will not so he went but now she would have been thankful for the unconsciousness of fainting that one little speech bore so much meaning to her hot irritable brain Mr. and Miss Benson all in their house would never speak to the boy but in his home alone would he be safe from what he had already learned to dread every form in which shame and appropriate could overwhelm her darling haunted her she had been exercising strong self-control for his sake ever since she had met him at the house door there was now a reaction his presence had kept her mind on its perfect balance when that was withdrawn the effect of the strain of power was felt and a thwart the fever mists that arose to obscure her judgment all sorts of willow-wiss plans flittered before her tempting her to this and that course of action to anything rather than patient endurance to relieve her present state of misery by some sudden spasmodic effort took the semblance of being wise and right gradually all her desires all her longing settled themselves on one point what had she done what could she do to Leonard but evil if she were away and gone nowhere knew where lost in mystery as if she were dead perhaps the cruel hearts might relent and show pity on Leonard while her perpetual presence would but call up the remembrance of his birth thus she reasoned in her hot dull brain and shaped her plans in accordance Leonard stole downstairs noiselessly he listened to find some quiet place where he could hide himself the house was very still miss Benson thought the proposed expedition had taken place and never dreamed but that Ruth and Leonard were on distant sunny score side hill and after a very early dinner she had set out to drink tea with a farmer's wife who lived in the country two or three miles off Mr. Benson meant to have gone with her but while they were at dinner he had received an unusually authoritative note from Mr. Bradshaw desiring to speak with him so he went to that gentleman's house instead Sally was busy in her kitchen making a great noise not unlike a groom rubbing down a horse over her cleaning Leonard stole into the sitting room and crouched behind the large old fashioned sofa to ease his sore aching heart by crying with all the prodigal waste and abandonment of childhood Mr. Benson was shown into Mr. Bradshaw's own particular room the latter gentleman was walking up and down and it was easy to perceive that something had occurred to chafe him to great anger sit down sir said he to Mr. Benson nodding to a chair Mr. Benson sat down but Mr. Bradshaw continued his walk for a few minutes longer without speaking then he stopped abruptly right in front of Mr. Benson and in a voice which he tried to render calm but which trembled with passion with a face glowing purple as he thought of his wrongs and real wrongs they were he began Mr. Benson I have sent for you to ask I am almost too indignant at the bare suspicion to speak as becomes me but did you I really shall be obliged to beg your pardon if you are as much in the dark as I was yesterday as to the character of the woman who lives under your roof there was no answer from Mr. Benson Mr. Bradshaw looked at him very earnestly his eyes were fixed on the ground he made no inquiry he uttered no expression of wonder or dismay Mr. Bradshaw ground his foot on the floor with gathering rage but just as he was about to speak Mr. Benson rose up a poor deformed old man before the stern and portly figure that was swelling and panting with passion hear me sir stretching out his hand as if to avert the words which were impending nothing you can say can up braid me like my own conscience no degradation you can inflict by word or deed can come up degradation I have suffered for years at being a party to a deceit even for a good end for a good end nay what next the taunting contempt with which Mr. Bradshaw spoke these words almost surprised himself by what he imagined must be its successful power of withering but in spite of it Mr. Benson lifted his grave with his eyes to Mr. Bradshaw's countenance and repeated for a good end the end was not as perhaps you consider it to have been to obtain her admission into your family nor yet to put her in the way of gaining her livelihood my sister and I would willingly have shared what we have with her it was our intention to do so at first in the course of time at least as long as her health might require it why I advise perhaps I only yielded to advice a change of name an assumption of a false state of widowhood was because I earnestly desire to place her in circumstances in which she might work out her self redemption and you sir know how terribly the world such as have sinned as Ruth did she was so young too you mistake sir my acquaintance has not lain so much among that class of sinners as to give me much experience of the way in which they are treated but judging from what I have seen I should say they meet with full as much leniency as they deserve they do not I know there are plenty of sickly sentimentalists just now who reserve all their interest and regard for criminals why not pick out one of these to help you in your task of washing the black or more white why choose me to be imposed upon my household into which to intrude your protégé why were my innocent children to be exposed to corruption I say and Mr. Bradshaw stamping his foot how dared you come into this house where you were looked upon as a minister of religion with a lie in your mouth how dared you single me out of all people to be gulled and deceived and pointed out through the town as the person who had taken an abandoned woman into his house to teach his daughters I own my deceit was wrong and faithless you you can own it now it is found out there is small merit in that I think sir I claim no merit I take shame to myself I did not single you out you applied to me with your proposal that Ruth should be your children's governess and the temptation was too great no I will not say that but the temptation was greater than I could stand it seemed to open out the path of usefulness now don't let me hear you speak so said Mr. Bradshaw blazing up I can't stand it it is too much to talk in that way when the usefulness was to consist in contaminating my innocent girls God knows that if I had believed there had been any danger of such contamination God knows how I would have died sooner than have allowed her to enter Mr. Bradshaw you believe me don't you asked Mr. Benson earnestly I really must be allowed the privilege of doubting what you say in future said Mr. Bradshaw in a cold contemptuous manner I have deserved this Mr. Benson replied but continued he after a moment's pause I will not speak of myself but of Ruth surely sir the end I aimed at the means I took to obtain it were wrong you cannot feel that more than I do was a right one and you will not you cannot say that your children have suffered from associating with her I had her in my family under the watchful eyes of three anxious persons for a year or more we saw faults no human being is without them and poor Ruth's were but slight venial errors no sign of a corrupt mind no glimpse of boldness or forwardness no token of want of conscientiousness she seemed and was a young gentle girl who had been led astray before she fairly knew what life was I suppose most depraved women have been innocent in their time said Mr. Bradshaw with bitter contempt oh Mr. Bradshaw Ruth was not depraved and you know it you cannot have seen her have known her daily all these years without acknowledging that Mr. Benson was almost breathless awaiting Mr. Bradshaw's answer the quiet self-control which he had maintained so long was gone now I saw her daily I did not know her if I had known her I should have known she was fallen and depraved and consequently I did not fit to come into my house nor to associate with my pure children now I wish God would give me power to speak out convincingly what I believe to be his truth that not every woman who has fallen is depraved that many how many the great judgment day will reveal to those who have shaken off the poor sore penitent hearts on earth many many crave and hunger after a chance of virtue the help which no man gives to them help that gentle tender help which Jesus gave once to Mary Magdalene Mr. Benson was almost choked by his own feelings come come Mr. Benson let us have no more of this morbid way of talking the world has decided how such women are to be treated you may depend upon it there is so much practical wisdom in the world that its way of acting is right in the long run and that no one can fly in its face with impunity unless indeed they stoop to deceit and imposition I take my stand with Christ against the world said Mr. Benson solemnly disregarding the covert allusion to himself what have the world's ways ended in can we be much worse than we are speak for yourself if you please is it not time to change some of our ways of thinking and acting I declare before God that if I believe in any one human truth it is this that to every woman who like Ruth has sinned should be given a chance of self redemption that such a chance should be given in no supercilious or contemptuous manner but in the spirit of the holy Christ such as getting her into a friend's house under false colors I do not argue on Ruth's case in that I have acknowledged my era I do not argue on any case I state my firm belief that it is God's will there to trample any of his creatures down to the hopeless dust that it is God's will that the women who have fallen should be numbered among those who have broken hearts to be bound up not cast aside as lost beyond recall if this be God's will as a thing of God it will stand and he will open away I should have attached much more importance to all your exhortation on this point if I could have respected your conduct in other matters as it is when I see a man who has deluded himself into considering false right I am disinclined to take his opinion on subjects connected with morality and I can no longer regard him as a fitting exponent of the will of God you perhaps understand what I mean Mr. Benson I can no longer attend your chapel if Mr. Benson had felt any hope of making Mr. Bradshaw's obstinate mind receive the truth that he acknowledged and repented of his connivance at the falsehood by means of which Ruth had been received into the Bradshaw family this last sentence prevented his making the attempt he simply bowed and took his leave Mr. Bradshaw attending him to the door with formal ceremony he felt acutely the severance of the tie which Mr. Bradshaw had just announced to him he had experienced many mortifications in his intercourse with that gentleman but they had fallen off from his meek spirit like drops of water from a bird's plumage and now he only remembered the acts of substantial kindness rendered the ostentation all forgotten many happy hours and pleasant evenings the children whom he had loved dearer than he thought till now the young people about whom he had cared and whom he had striven to lead a right he was but a young man when Mr. Bradshaw first came to his chapel they had grown old together he had never recognized Mr. Bradshaw as an old familiar friend so completely as now when they were severed it was with a heavy heart that he opened his own door he went to his study immediately he sat down to study himself into his position how long he was there silent and alone reviewing his life confessing his sins he did not know but he heard some unusual sound in the house that disturbed him roused him to present life a slow, languid step came along the passage to the front door the breathing was broken by many sighs Ruth's hand was on the latch when Mr. Benson came out her face was very white except the two red spots on each cheek her eyes were deep, sunk and hollow but glittered with feverish lustre Ruth exclaimed he she moved her lips but her throat and mouth were too dry for her to speak where are you going asked he for she had all her walking things on yet trembled so even as she stood that it was evidence she could not walk far without falling she hesitated she looked up at him still with the same dry glittering eyes at last she whispered for she could only speak in a whisper to Helmsby I am going to Helmsby Helmsby my poor girl may God have mercy upon you for he saw she hardly knew what she was saying where is Helmsby I don't know in Lincolnshire I think but why are you going there hush he's asleep said she as Mr. Benson had unconsciously raised his voice who is asleep asked Mr. Benson that poor little boy said she beginning to quiver and cry come here said he authoritatively drawing her into the study sit down in that chair I will come back directly he went in search of his sister but she had not returned then he had recourse to Sally who was as busy as ever about her cleaning how long has Ruth been at home asked he Ruth she has never been at home since morning she and Leonard were to be off for the day somewhere or other with Embrajo girls for dinner not here any rate I can't answer for what she may have done at other places and Leonard where is he how should I know with his mother I suppose Least Ways that was what was fixed on I have enough to do of my own without routing after other folks she went on scouring in no very good temper Mr. Benson stood silent for a moment Sally he said I want a cup of tea I can and some dry toast too I'll come for it in ten minutes struck by something in his voice she looked up at him for the first time what have you been doing to yourself to look so grim and gray tiring yourself all to tatters looking after some knot I'll be bound well well I'll make you your tea I reckon but I didn't hope as you grow older you have grown wiser Mr. Benson made no reply but went to look for Leonard hoping that the child's presence might bring back to his mother the power of self-control he opened the parlor door and looked in but saw no one just as he was shutting it however he heard a deep broken sobbing sigh and guided by the sound he found the boy lying on the floor fast asleep but with his features all swollen and disfigured by passionate crying poor child this was what she meant then thought Mr. Benson he has begun his share of the sorrows too he continued pitifully no I will not waken him back to consciousness so he returned alone into the study Ruth sat where he had placed her her head bent back and her eyes shut but when he came in she started up knowing she said in a hurried way nay Ruth you must not go you must not leave us we cannot do without you we love you too much love me said she looking at him wistfully as she looked her eyes filled slowly with tears it was a good sign and Mr. Benson took heart to go on yes Ruth you know we do you may have other things in your mind just now but you know we love you and nothing can alter our love for you you ought not to have thought of leaving us you would not if you had been quite well do you know what has happened she asked in a low horse voice yes I know all he answered it makes no difference to us why should it oh Mr. Benson don't you know that my shame is discovered and I must leave you and leave Leonard that you may not share in my disgrace you must do no such thing leave Leonard you have no right to leave Leonard where could you go to to Helmsby she said humbly it would break my heart to go but I think I ought for Leonard's sake I know I ought she was crying sadly by this time but Mr. Benson knew the flow of tears would ease her brain it will break my heart to go but I know I must sit still here at present said he in a decided tone of command he went for the cup of tea he brought it to her without Sally's being aware for whom it was intended drink this he spoke as you would do to a child if desiring it to take medicine eat some toast she took the tea feverishly but when she tried to eat the food seemed to choke her still she was docile and she tried I cannot said she at last putting down the piece of toast there was a return of something of her usual tone in the words she spoke gently and softly no longer in the shrill horse voice she had used at first Mr. Benson sat down by her now Ruth we must talk a little together I want to understand what your plan was where is Helmsby why did you fix to go there it is where my mother lived she answered before she was married she lived there and wherever she lived the people all loved her dearly and I thought I think that for her sake someone would give me work I meant to tell them the truth said she dropping her eyes but still they would perhaps give me some employment I don't care what for her sake I could do many things said she suddenly looking up I am sure I could weed I could in gardens if they did not like to have me in their houses but perhaps someone from my mother's sake oh my dear dear mother do you know where and what I am she cried out sobbing afresh Mr. Benson's heart was very sore though he spoke authoritatively and almost sternly Ruth you must be still and quiet I cannot have this I want you to listen to me your thought of Helmsby would be a good one if it was right for you to leave Eccleston but I do not think it is I am certain of this that it would be a great sin in you to separate yourself from Leonard you have no right to sever the tie by which God has bound you together but if I am here they will all know and remember the shame of his birth and if I go away they may forget and they may not and if you go away he may be unhappy or ill and you who above all others have and have from God remember that Ruth the power to comfort him the tender patience to nurse him have left him to the care of strangers yes I know we ourselves are as strangers dearly as we love him compared to a mother he may turn to sin and want the long forbearance the serene authority of a parent and where are you no dread of shame either for yourself or even for him can ever make it right for you to shake off your responsibility all this time he was watching her narrowly and saw her slowly yield herself besides Ruth he continued we have gone on falsely hitherto it has been my doing my mistake my sin I ought to have known better now let us stand firm on the truth you have no new fault to repent of be brave and faithful it is to God you answer not to men the shame of having your sin known to the world should be as nothing to the shame sinned we have dreaded men too much and God too little in the course we have taken but now be of good cheer perhaps you will have to find your work in the world very low not quite working in the fields said he with a gentle smile to which she downcast and miserable could give no response nay perhaps Ruth he went on some time no one may be willing to use the services you would gladly render all may turn aside from you and may speak very harshly of you can you accept all this treatment meekly as but the reasonable and just penance God has laid upon you feeling no anger against those who slight you no impatience for the time to come and come it surely will I speak as having the word of God I say when he having purified you even as by fire will make a straight path for your feet my child it is Christ the Lord who has told us of this infinite mercy of God have you faith enough in it to be brave and bear on and do rightly impatience and in tribulation Ruth had been hushed and very still until now when the pleading kindness of his question urged her to answer yes said she I hope I believe I can be faithful for myself for I have sinned and done wrong but Leonard she looked up at him but Leonard he echoed ah there it is hard Ruth I own the world is hard and persecuting to such as he he paused to think of the true comfort for this sting he went on the world is not everything Ruth nor is the want of men's good opinion and the esteem the highest need which man has teach Leonard this you would not wish his life to be one summer's day you dared not make it so if you had the power teach him to bid a noble Christian welcome to the trials which God sends and this is one of them not to look on a life of struggle and perhaps of disappointment and incompleteness as a sad and mournful end but as the means permitted to the heroes and warriors in the army of Christ by which to show their faithful following tell him of the hard and thorny path which was trodden once by the bleeding feet of one Ruth think of the saviour's life and cruel death and of his divine faithfulness oh Ruth exclaimed he when I look and see what you may be what you must be to that boy I cannot think how you could be coward enough for a moment to shrink from your work but we have all been coward hitherto he added in bitter self accusation God help us to be so no longer Ruth sat very quiet her eyes were fixed on the ground and she seemed lost in thought at length she rose up Mr. Benson said she standing before him and propping herself by the table as she was trembling sadly from weakness I mean to try very very hard to do my duty to Leonard and to God she added reverently I am only afraid my faith may sometimes fail about Leonard ask and it shall be given unto you that is no vain or untried promise Ruth she sat down again unable longer to stand there was another long silence I must never go to Mr. Bradshaw's again she said at last as if thinking allowed no Ruth you shall not he answered to learn no money added she quickly for she thought that he did not perceive the difficulty that was troubling her you surely know Ruth that while faith and I have a Ruth to shelter us or bread to eat you and Leonard share it with us I know I know your most tender goodness said she but it ought not to be it must be at present in a decided manner perhaps before long you may have some employment perhaps it may be some time before an opportunity occurs hush said Ruth Leonard is moving about in the parlor I must go to him but when she stood up she turned so dizzy and tottered so much that she was glad to sit down again immediately you must rest here go to him said Mr. Benson he left her and when he was gone she leaned her head on the back of the chair and cried quietly and incessantly but there was a more patient hopeful resolved feeling in the heart which all along through all the tears she shed bore her onwards to higher thoughts until at last she rose to prayers Mr. Benson caught the new look of shrinking shame in Leonard's eyes as it first sought then shunned meeting his he was pained too by the sight of the little sorrowful anxious face on which until now hope and joy had been predominant the constrained voice the few words the boy spoke when formally there would have been a glad and free utterance all this grieved Mr. Benson inexpressibly the beginning of an unwanted mortification which must last for years he himself made no allusion to any unusual occurrence he spoke of Ruth as sitting overcome by headache in the study for quietness he hurried on the preparations for tea while Leonard sat by in the great arm chair and looked on with sad dreamy eyes he strove to lessen the shock the new Leonard had received by every mixture of tenderness and cheerfulness that Mr. Benson's gentle heart prompted and now and then a languid smile stole over the boy's face when his bedtime came Mr. Benson told him of the hour although he feared that Leonard would have but another sorrowful crying of himself to sleep but he was anxious to accustom his joy to cheerful movement within the limits of domestic law and by no disobedience to it to weaken the power of glad submission to the supreme to begin the new life that lay before him where strength to look up to God as the law giver and ruler of events would be preeminently required when Leonard had gone upstairs Mr. Benson went immediately to Ruth and said Ruth Leonard has just gone up to bed secure in the instinct which made her silently rise and go up to the boy certain too that they would each be the other's best comforter and that God would strengthen each through the other now for the first time he had leisure to think of himself and to go over all the events of the day the half hour of solitude in his study that he had before his sister's return was of inestimable value he had leisure to put events in their true places as to importance and eternal significance Miss Faith came in laden with farm produce her kind entertainers had brought her in their chandry to the opening of the court in which the chapel house stood but she was so heavily burdened by the shrooms and plums that when her brother opened the door she was almost breathless oh Thurston take this basket is it such a weight oh Sally is that you here are some magnum bonums which we must preserve tomorrow there are guinea fowl eggs in that basket Mr. Benson let her unburden her body and her mind too by giving charges to Sally keeping treasures before he said a word but when she returned into the study to tell him the small pieces of intelligence respecting her day at the farm she stood aghast why Thurston dear what's the matter is your back hurting you he smiled to reassure her but it was a sickly and forced smile no faith I am quite well only rather out of spirits and wanting to talk to you to cheer me Miss Faith sat down straight sitting bolt upright to listen the better I don't know how but the real story about Ruth is found out oh Thurston exclaimed Miss Benson turning quite white for a moment neither of them said another word then she went on does Mr. Bradshaw know yes he sent for me and told me does Ruth know that it has all come out yes and Leonard knows how who told him I do not know I have asked no questions but of course it was his mother she was very foolish and cruel then said Miss Benson her eyes blazing and her lips trembling at the thought of the suffering her darling boy must have gone through I think she was wise I am sure it was not cruel he must have soon known that there was some mystery and it was better that it should be told him openly and quietly by his mother than by a stranger how could she tell him quietly as Miss Benson still indignant well perhaps I used the wrong word of course no one was by and I don't suppose even they themselves could now tell how it was told or in what spirit it was born Miss Benson was silent again was Mr. Bradshaw very angry yes very and justly so I did very wrong in making that false statement at first no I am sure you did not said Miss Faith Ruth has had some years of peace in which to grow stronger and wiser so that she can bear her shame now in a way she never could have done at first all the same it was wrong in me to do what I did I did it too as much or more than you and I don't think it wrong it was quite right and I would do just the same again perhaps it has not done you the harm it has done me nonsense thirst and don't be morbid I'm sure you are as good and better than ever you were no I am not I have got what you call morbid just in consequence of the sophistry by which I persuaded myself that wrong could be right I have lost my clear instincts of conscience formally if I believe that such or such an action was according to the will of God I went and did it or at least I tried to do it without thinking of consequences now I reason and weigh what will happen if I do so and so I grope where formally I saw oh Faith it is such a relief to me to have the truth known I am afraid I have not been sufficiently sympathizing with Ruth poor Ruth said Miss Benson but at any rate our telling a lie has been the saving of her there is no fear of her going wrong now God's omnipotence did not need our sin they did not speak for some time you have not told me what Mr. Bradshaw said one can't remember the exact words that are spoken on either side in moments of such strong excitement he was very angry and said some things about me that were very just and some about Ruth that were very hard his last words were that he should give upcoming to chapel oh Thurston did it come to that yes does Ruth know all he said no why should she I don't know if she knows he has spoken to me at all poor creature she had enough to craze her almost without that she was for going away and leaving us that we might not share in her disgrace I was afraid of her being quite delirious I did so want you faith however I did the best I could I spoke to her very coldly and almost sternly all the while my heart was bleeding for her I dared not give her sympathy I tried to give her strength but I did so want you faith and I was so full of enjoyment I am ashamed to think of it but the Dawson's are so kind and the day was so fine where's Ruth now with Leonard he is her great earthly motive I thought that being with him would be best but he must be in bed and asleep now I will go up to her said Miss Faith she found Ruth keeping watch by Leonard's troubled sleep but when she saw Miss Faith she rose up and threw herself on her neck and clung to her without speaking after a while Miss Benson said you must go to bed Ruth so after she kissed the sleeping boy Miss Benson let her away and helped her to undress and brought her a cup of soothing violent tea not so soothing as tender actions and soft loving tones End of Chapter 27