Mr Benson looked more at his sister's face than at Ruth's; he read her countenance as a book.
Mrs Hughes stood by, crying.
Mr Benson touched his sister, and they left the room together.
"Do you think she will live ?" asked he.
"I cannot tell," said Miss Benson, in a softened voice.

"But how young she looks! Quite a child, poor creature! When will the doctor come, Thurstan?
Tell me all about her; you have never told me the particulars." Mr Benson might have said, she had never cared to hear them before, and had rather avoided the subject; but he was too happy to see this awakening of interest in his sister's warm heart to say anything in the least reproachful.

He told her the story as well as he could; and, as he felt it deeply, he told it with heart's eloquence; and, as he ended and looked at her, there were tears in the eyes of both.
"And what does the doctor say ?" asked she, after a pause.
"He insists upon quiet; he orders medicines and strong broth.

I cannot tell you all; Mrs Hughes can.

She has been so truly good.
'Doing good, hoping for nothing again.'" "She looks very sweet and gentle.