It will do very well, too.
People will think you are a distant relation." When she told Mr Benson this choice of name, he was rather sorry; it was like his sister's impulsive kindness--impulsive in everything--and he could imagine how Ruth's humility had touched her.
He was sorry, but he said nothing.
And now the letter was written home, announcing the probable arrival of the brother and sister on a certain day, "with a distant relation, early left a widow," as Miss Benson expressed it.

She desired the spare room might be prepared, and made every provision she could think of for Ruth's comfort; for Ruth still remained feeble and weak.
When the black gown, at which she had stitched away incessantly, was finished--when nothing remained but to rest for the next day's journey--Ruth could not sit still.

She wandered from window to window, learning off each rock and tree by heart.

Each had its tale, which it was agony to remember; but which it would have been worse agony to forget.

The sound of running waters she heard that quiet evening, was in her ears as she lay on her death-bed; so well had she learnt their tune.
And now all was over.