"Hush, hush, lass! Remember, he has my promise."
"But not mine. Oh, father, do not be so cruel."
A step sounded in the lower passage. Ruth grew pale as she listened. The footsteps paused near the stairs, and a voice called out, "Ruthy! I say, Ruthy!"
Ruth sprang from the bed with a little cry of joy, and flinging open the door, looked over the banister.
"Is it you? Is it only you, godmother? Come up, come up!"
Mrs. Mason accepted the invitation, planting her feet so firmly on the narrow stairs that they shook under her.
"Of course, I know he is better by the look of your face," said the dame, pausing to draw a deep breath before she entered the sick man's room. "You need not trouble yourself to ask; all is going on well at 'The Rest.' The young master walks across the room now, and lies on the couch near the window, looking out as if he pined for the free air again, as who wouldn't, after such a bout of illness?"
Ruth did not speak, but her face flushed, and her eyes sparkled through the droop of their long lashes. She knew that the window her godmother spoke of looked across the flower-garden to their own cottage, and her fond heart beat all the faster for the knowledge.
"So, at last, an old friend can win a sight of you," said dame Mason, crossing over to the bed where Jessup lay, and patting the great hand which rested on the coverlet with her soft palm; "and right glad I am to find you are looking so well."
Jessup looked at Ruth, and smiled.