Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. The servants had left the room. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool.
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