Ruth by Elizabeth Gaskell Read Free Book Online

which she felt to be productive
of no good, and partly to have some ideas to dwell upon during the
coming week beyond those suggested by the constant view of the same
room, she would carry her Bible, and place herself in the window-seat
on the wide landing, which commanded the street in front of the
house. From thence she could see the irregular grandeur of the place;
she caught a view of the grey church-tower, rising hoary and massive
into mid-air; she saw one or two figures loiter along on the sunny
side of the street, in all the enjoyment of their fine clothes and
Sunday leisure; and she imagined histories for them, and tried to
picture to herself their homes and their daily doings.
    And before long, the bells swung heavily in the church-tower, and
struck out with musical clang the first summons to afternoon church.
    After church was over, she used to return home to the same
window-seat, and watch till the winter twilight was over and gone,
and the stars came out over the black masses of houses. And then she
would steal down to ask for a candle, as a companion to her in the
deserted workroom. Occasionally the servant would bring her up some
tea; but of late Ruth had declined taking any, as she had discovered
she was robbing the kind-hearted creature of part of the small
provision left out for her by Mrs Mason. She sat on, hungry and cold,
trying to read her Bible, and to think the old holy thoughts which
had been her childish meditations at her mother's knee, until one
after another the apprentices returned, weary with their day's
enjoyment, and their week's late watching; too weary to make her in
any way a partaker of their pleasure by entering into details of the
manner in which they had spent their day.
    And last of all, Mrs Mason returned; and, summoning her "young
people" once more into the parlour, she read a prayer before
dismissing them to bed. She always expected to find them all in
the house when she came home, but asked no questions as to their
proceedings through the day; perhaps because she dreaded to hear
that one or two had occasionally nowhere to go, and that it would be
sometimes necessary to order a Sunday's dinner, and leave a lighted
fire on that day.
    For five months Ruth had been an inmate at Mrs Mason's, and such had
been the regular order of the Sundays. While the forewoman stayed
there, it is true, she was ever ready to give Ruth the little variety
of hearing of recreations in which she was no partaker; and however
tired Jenny might be at night, she had ever some sympathy to bestow
on Ruth for the dull length of day she had passed. After her
departure, the monotonous idleness of the Sunday seemed worse to
bear than the incessant labour of the work-days; until the time came
when it seemed to be a recognised hope in her mind, that on Sunday
afternoons she should see Mr Bellingham, and hear a few words from
him, as from a friend who took an interest in her thoughts and
proceedings during the past week.
    Ruth's mother had been the daughter of a poor curate in Norfolk,
and, early left without parents or home, she was thankful to marry
a respectable farmer a good deal older than herself. After their
marriage, however, everything seemed to go wrong. Mrs Hilton fell
into a delicate state of health, and was unable to bestow the
ever-watchful attention to domestic affairs so requisite in a
farmer's wife. Her husband had a series of misfortunes—of a more
important kind than the death of a whole brood of turkeys from
getting among the nettles, or the year of bad cheeses spoilt by a
careless dairymaid—which were the consequences (so the neighbours
said) of Mr Hilton's mistake in marrying a delicate, fine lady. His
crops failed; his horses died; his barn took fire; in short, if he
had been in any way a remarkable character, one might have supposed
him to be the object of an avenging fate, so successive were the
evils which pursued him; but as he was only a somewhat commonplace
farmer, I believe we must