Mrs Bellingham swept into her son's room as if she were unconscious what poor young creature had lately haunted it; while Ruth hurried into some unoccupied bedroom, and, alone there, she felt her self-restraint suddenly give way, and burst into the saddest, most utterly wretched weeping she had ever known.

She was worn out with watching, and exhausted by passionate crying, and she lay down on the bed and fell asleep.

The day passed on; she slumbered unnoticed and unregarded; she awoke late in the evening with a sense of having done wrong in sleeping so long; the strain upon her responsibility had not yet left her.

Twilight was closing fast around; she waited until it had become night, and then she stole down to Mrs Morgan's parlour.
"If you please, may I come in ?" asked she.
Jenny Morgan was doing up the hieroglyphics which she called her accounts; she answered sharply enough, but it was a permission to enter, and Ruth was thankful for it.
"Will you tell me how he is?
Do you think I may go back to him ?" "No, indeed, that you may not.

Nest, who has made his room tidy these many days, is not fit to go in now.