" So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. Mr. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. “I’ll get a towel. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. She did not therefore reveal to him that he had guaged her with accuracy. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch. " "I liked that, too," she replied; "but it wasn't that I had in mind. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly.
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