gham more; her admiration and her content made him
angry, until her pretty motions and loving eyes soothed down his
impatience.

"Really, Ruth," he exclaimed one day, when they had been imprisoned
by rain a whole morning, "one would think you had never seen a shower
of rain before; it quite wearies me to see you sitting there watching
this detestable weather with such a placid countenance; and for the
last two hours you have said nothing more amusing or interesting
than--'Oh, how beautiful!' or, 'There's another cloud coming across
Moel Wynn.'"

Ruth left her seat very gently, and took up her work. She wished she
had the gift of being amusing; it must be dull for a man accustomed
to all kinds of active employments to be shut up in the house. She
was recalled from her absolute self-forgetfulness. What could she say
to interest Mr Bellingham? While she thought, he spoke again:

"I remember when we were reading here three years ago, we had a week
of just such weather as this; but Howard and Johnson were capital
whist players, and Wilbraham not bad, so we got through the days
famously. Can you play _ecarte_, Ruth, or picquet?"

"No, sir; I have sometimes played at beggar-my-neighbour," answered
Ruth, humbly, regretting her own deficiencies.

He murmured impatiently, and there was silence for another half-hour.
Then he sprang up, and rung the bell violently. "Ask Mrs Morgan for a
pack of cards. Ruthie, I'll teach you _ecarte_," said he.

But Ruth was stupid, not so good as a dummy, he said; and it was
no fun betting against himself. So the cards were flung across the
table--on the floor--anywhere. Ruth picked them up. As she rose, she
sighed a little with the depression of spirits consequent upon her
own want of power to amuse and occupy him she loved.

"You're pale, love!" said he, half repenting of his anger at her
blunders over the cards. "Go out before dinner; you know you don't
mind this cursed weather; and see that you come home full of
adventures to relate. Come, little blockhead! give me a kiss, and
begone."

She left the room with a feeling of relief; for if he were dull
without her, she should not feel responsible, and unhappy at her own
stupidity. The open air, that kind soothing balm which gentle mother
Nature offers to us all in our seasons of depression, relieved her.
The rain had ceased, though every leaf and blade was loaded with
trembling glittering drops. Ruth went down to the circular dale, into