"Come along, Mrs. Still, one has to be reasonable. Seems you were right about Valade. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. “Dear John,” she whispered. This was done, and Austin returned with a crest-fallen look to the table. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying.
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