Yet she had no idea that any association made her camellia
precious to her. She believed it was solely on account of its
exquisite beauty that she tended it so carefully. She told Jenny
every particular of its presentation, with open, straight-looking
eye, and without the deepening of a shade of colour.

"Was it not kind of him? You can't think how nicely he did it,
just when I was a little bit mortified by her ungracious ways."

"It was very nice, indeed," replied Jenny. "Such a beautiful
flower! I wish it had some scent."

"I wish it to be exactly as it is--it is perfect. So pure!" said
Ruth, almost clasping her treasure as she placed it in water.
"Who is Mr. Bellingham?"

"He is son to that Mrs. Bellingham of the Priory, for whom we
made the grey satin pelisse," answered Jenny sleepily.

"That was before my time," said Ruth. But there was no answer.
Jenny was asleep.

It was long before Ruth followed her example. Even on a winter
day, it was clear morning light that fell upon her face as she
smiled in her slumber. Jenny would not waken her, but watched her
face with admiration; it was So lovely in its happiness.

"She is dreaming of last night," thought Jenny.