A sorrowful majesty, that had something in it of pity and something of anger, gave to her countenance, her movements, and even her speech, a kind of authority.
"Dear mother, do as the beloved and kindhearted Ruth did.

Like you, she married one not of her race and not of her religion.

Even when God had taken him from her, she chose to remain with his people--to leave her own people and abide with his mother.

For this act God blessed her, and all nations in all ages have honored her." "Ruth! Ruth! Ruth! What has Ruth to do with the question?
Presumptuous one! Ruth was a heathen woman--a Moabite--a race ten times accursed." "Pardon, father.

Ruth was the ancestress of our blessed Saviour, and of the Virgin Mary." "Believe not the wicked one, Senora?
She is blinded with false knowledge.