I remember the exact words, but
he said something like that."

"My dear! your gown is dripping wet! it must have dipped into the
tub; let me wring it out."

"Oh, thank you! Never mind my gown!" said Jemima, hastily, and
wanting to return to her question; but just then she caught the sight
of tears falling fast down the cheeks of the silent Ruth as she bent
over her child, crowing and splashing away in his tub. With a sudden
consciousness that unwittingly she had touched on some painful chord,
Jemima rushed into another subject, and was eagerly seconded by Miss
Benson. The circumstance seemed to die away, and leave no trace;
but in after-years it rose, vivid and significant, before Jemima's
memory. At present it was enough for her, if Mrs Denbigh would let
her serve her in every possible way. Her admiration for beauty was
keen, and little indulged at home; and Ruth was very beautiful in her
quiet mournfulness; her mean and homely dress left herself only the
more open to admiration, for she gave it a charm by her unconscious
wearing of it that made it seem like the drapery of an old Greek
statue--subordinate to the figure it covered, yet imbued by it with
an unspeakable grace. Then the pretended circumstances of her life
were such as to catch the imagination of a young romantic girl.
Altogether, Jemima could have kissed her hand and professed herself
Ruth's slave. She moved away all the articles used at this little
_coucher_; she folded up Leonard's day-clothes; she felt only too
much honoured when Ruth trusted him to her for a few minutes--only
too amply rewarded when Ruth thanked her with a grave, sweet smile,
and a grateful look of her loving eyes.

When Jemima had gone away with the servant who was sent to fetch her,
there was a little chorus of praise.

"She's a warm-hearted girl," said Miss Benson. "She remembers all the
old days before she went to school. She is worth two of Mr Richard.
They're each of them just the same as they were when they were
children, when they broke that window in the chapel, and he ran
away home, and she came knocking at our door, with a single knock,
just like a beggar's, and I went to see who it was, and was quite
startled to see her round, brown, honest face looking up at me,
half-frightened, and telling me what she had done, and offering me
the money in her savings bank to pay for it. We never should have
heard of Master Richard's share in the business if it had not been
for Sall