he great pagan East, and was nothing
to the land that owned her--to the people that were her people. She was
dead to the life and world to which she had been born.

The family of her guardian, together with some of their pupils, had
removed to a little village up the side of the mount to spend a few of
the hottest weeks, as was their custom. The mail was regularly brought
up by a young Arab riding a mule. One evening, when Ruth had gone to sit
alone on one of the grassy terraces overlooking the sea and the
luxuriant foliage and vegetation below--a thing she liked, though it
usually made her pensive and a little sad--a young Syrian girl ran down
and gave her a letter. It was Mrs. Tascher's, and I will take the
liberty to transcribe a part of it here:

"Aunt Ruby has furnished me with a good many surprising items in regard
to the fortunes and actions of our old associates. Bruce (he was a
splendid fellow--wasn't he?--solid, practical and all that), who, you
remember, had a good deal of means, has built himself a house, something
quite elegant. It stands on that little knoll on the other side of the
town, overlooking the river. I mean to go over and take a look at it
some day: it is said to be beautifully furnished, and is kept by an old
maiden aunt of our friend. Bruce, by the way, is in Europe, though what
took him there I cannot conjecture, unless he means to bring home a
European exportation in the shape of a wife. I wish, my dear, _you_ had
taken a fancy to him: I always thought he admired you. You don't mind my
probing an old wound--do you?--because I want to speak of some of the
others. Miss Custer's fortune, as it turned out, was extremely limited.
She had, I believe, enough to furnish a small rented house here, and she
and the doctor immediately went to housekeeping. But time, which settles
all things and places them in their true light and relations, has
brought to the notice of this precious pair that they are very ill
adapted to each other: it is even said that they quarrel. The coarser
gossips affirm that Mrs. Ebling is lazy and shiftless, and that the
doctor is disheartened and neglects his business. I have seen him once,
and can judge something of his state by his bearing and looks. He is
certainly not the sort of man I once thought he would make. Whether
there is better stuff in him than what we see developed, or whether he
owes what he is entirely to circumstances, is an unsolvable question. I
am inclined