y much out of tune;
but as he had no ear, and no diffidence, it pleased him very much
to hear the fine loud sound. He was a tall, large-boned, iron man;
stern, powerful, and authoritative in appearance; dressed in clothes
of the finest broadcloth, and scrupulously ill-made, as if to show
that he was indifferent to all outward things. His wife was sweet and
gentle-looking, but as if she was thoroughly broken into submission.

Ruth did not see this, or hear aught but the words which were
reverently--oh, how reverently!--spoken by Mr Benson. He had had Ruth
present in his thoughts all the time he had been preparing for his
Sunday duty; and he had tried carefully to eschew everything which
she might feel as an allusion to her own case. He remembered how the
Good Shepherd, in Poussin's beautiful picture, tenderly carried the
lambs which had wearied themselves by going astray, and felt how like
tenderness was required towards poor Ruth. But where is the chapter
which does not contain something which a broken and contrite spirit
may not apply to itself? And so it fell out that, as he read, Ruth's
heart was smitten, and she sank down, and down, till she was kneeling
on the floor of the pew, and speaking to God in the spirit, if not in
the words, of the Prodigal Son: "Father! I have sinned against Heaven
and before Thee, and am no more worthy to be called Thy child!" Miss
Benson was thankful (although she loved Ruth the better for this
self-abandonment) that the minister's seat was far in the shade of
the gallery. She tried to look most attentive to her brother, in
order that Mr Bradshaw might not suspect anything unusual, while she
stealthily took hold of Ruth's passive hand, as it lay helpless on
the cushion, and pressed it softly and tenderly. But Ruth sat on the
ground, bowed down and crushed in her sorrow, till all was ended.

Miss Benson loitered in her seat, divided between the consciousness
that she, as _locum tenens_ for the minister's wife, was expected
to be at the door to receive the kind greetings of many after her
absence from home, and her unwillingness to disturb Ruth, who was
evidently praying, and, by her quiet breathing, receiving grave and
solemn influences into her soul. At length she rose up, calm and
composed even to dignity. The chapel was still and empty; but Miss
Benson heard the buzz of voices in the chapel-yard without. They were
probably those of people waiting for her; and she summoned courage,
an