THE DEATH OF RUTH For all her joy and all her prettiness, Naomi was a burden which only love could bear.

To think of the girl by day, and to dream of her by night, never to sit by her without pity of her helplessness, and never to leave her without dread of the mischances that might so easily befall, to see for her, to hear for her, to speak for her, truly the tyranny of the burden was terrible.
Ruth sank under it.

Through seven years she was eyes of the child's eyes, and ears of her ears, and tongue of her tongue.

After that her own sight became dim, and her hearing faint.

It was almost as if she had spent them on Naomi in the yearning of dove and pity.