The window was in a square recess; the old strange little panes of glass had been replaced by those which gave more light.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 to 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 flag-stones.

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.