Chapter V.
RUTH.
"Hey, what is it?" the Collector demanded, slewing himself to the half-about in his chair.
The girl stepped forward into the candle-light. Over her shoulders she wore a faded plaid, the ends of which her left hand clutched and held together at her bosom.
"Your Honour's pardon for troubling," she said, and laying a gold coin on the table, drew back with a slight curtsy. "But I think you gave me this by mistake; and now is my only chance to give it back. I am going home in a few minutes."
The Collector glanced at the coin, and from that to the girl's face, on which his eyes lingered.
"Gad, I recollect!" he said. "You were the wench that pulled off my boots?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, upon my honour, I forget at this moment if I gave it by mistake or because of your face. No, hang me!" he went on, while she flushed, not angrily, but as though the words hurt her, "it must have been by mistake. I couldn't have forgot so much better a reason."
To this she answered nothing, but put forward her hand as if to push the coin nearer.