Jenny was asleep.
It was long before Ruth followed her example.

Even on a winter day, it was clear morning light that fell upon her face as she smiled in her slumber.

Jenny would not waken her, but watched her face with admiration; it was so lovely in its happiness.
"She is dreaming of last night," thought Jenny.
It was true she was; but one figure flitted more than all the rest through her visions.

He presented flower after flower to her in that baseless morning dream, which was all too quickly ended.

The night before, she had seen her dead mother in her sleep, and she wakened, weeping.