Ruth's waking resolutions.
It was caused by the falling of the steel blade which her sudden movement had displaced from the folds of her cloak; there, glittering dazzlingly bright in the sunshine, it lay upon the floor.
Spell-bound, Ruth gazed at it, much in the way that people are forced, in spite of themselves, to stare at some poisonous brilliant-eyed reptile crossing their path. Yet this was not altogether Ruth's case. If anyone could have looked into her face then they would have seen in it no vacant, helpless stare, but a dawning, deep thoughtfulness, whose perplexity yielded gradually to an expression of strong determination, as though she had come to a decision on some knotty point she had been discussing with herself.
Only the clock, however, striking seven roused her from her abstraction. So late! and approaching the window she opened its panes and let in the pure morning air. Then she proceeded to make a fresh toilette. With a little sigh yesterday's gay tiffany was laid aside, poor, crumpled, bedraggled stuff that it all looked now, and she put on a gown of gray camlet, from beneath whose skirts, just reaching to her ankles, peeped forth a pair of little feet, in a pair of stout plain black leathern tagged shoes; just the very things for rough country roads and boggy lanes. The neat-fitting bodice was finished by a kerchief of spotless lawn gathered close about her neck, and though fashionable ladies would no doubt have vowed it an odiously grand-mothery sort of thing, it was none so unbecoming. Indeed as Ruth proceeded to fasten that black silk caped hood beneath her little round chin, it was quite a matter of nice taste, whether Queen Ruth, rosy as her regal robes and crown, and bright as her gay dancing glances could make her, or this demure, pale little Ruth, clad in sober gray, and with great wistful eyes, somewhat heavily shadowed, indeed, with purple lines, were the prettier.
A morning visit.
Small doubt of Master Rumbold's opinion on the matter did there seem to be, when ready equipped, even to a large basket upon her arm, she stood before him with the black jack of ale, that always made his breakfast. "Now thou look'st thyself, Ruth," he said, his brooding brow lightening as he gazed at her. "Why dost thou sigh, child?" he went on, taking the jack and putting it to his lips.
"Did I sigh, father?" and all unconsciously poor Ruth sighed again, for never in her life had it seemed to her that she had felt less herself.
"Ay, didst thou. Well, well. Thou'rt thy father's own daughter now: kiss me then," he went on, setting down the empty jack and wiping his lips. "And where art thou bound for so early?" he added.
"Nether Hall, father."
"Nether Hall! why, 'tis but a round o' the clock that thou wert there," he said, opening his one eye more in surprise than displeasure.